[h3]Unexpected Connections[/h3] [i]Stormy and I[/i] "You there! You look like the sort of lass who could appreciate a luminescent guar statue to light up your stoop! No? How about this blanket that is always pleasantly cool?" Raznog gro-Malak called out to a passing pair of elven women, who only spared a moment's consideration to the wares the bespectacled Orsimer was enthusiastically presenting. Shazali's eye lingered on her companion for a pregnant moment, noticing that even with scaled back attire given the muggy climate, the Orc seemed to try to look somewhat presentable, and perhaps failing via half-measures. A sleeveless vest covered his powerful torso, the vest missing its paired undershirt, and the fine mahogany coloured trousers were rolled up to his knees with a fancy broach on either pant leg to pin them in place, the look being rounded out with his axe pendant and a pair of crocodile leather sandals he had purchased from this festival only being a few shades darker than his complexion. He wore it proudly and his grooming was as ever on-point, so the Alfiq gave him a pass, turning her attention back to the Investigator Vale novel she was currently enraptured with. Raznog shrugged as the two prospective clients sauntered off towards the Altmer's perfume stall a few spaces down from where the unlikely duo were set up. He set the blanket down on the bench he had some of the items for sale with their wooden price placards set just-so to the left and folded it with practiced hands. He tapped the stained glass chimes, watching as the elemental enchantments in each pane lit up; the pale blue pane reacted with a flash of lightning, the red a flash of flame, and the white one frosted over before quickly melting again. He slumped down in his wicker chair again, large meaty hands folded on his lap. "Damn shame; I thought the blanket would have been gone immediately in this climate." he grunted, pulling a stone container from the box next to his chair and pulling a large chunk of fire salt free, setting it into a tray beneath a kettle to boil the water. "It is only the first night, Raznog; Shazali does not doubt your talents as a salesman. Besides, those two probably couldn't afford my crafts." the Khajiit pointed out, the soft glow of telekinesis encasing a clawed toe that turned the page. "Probably not." Raznog agreed with a smile, leaning back into his chair, regarding his companion affectionately. "So, has the good Investigator made any leeway in solving the case?" Shazali shook her head. "No, but if she stopped making bedroom-eyes at the assassin, the Baroness would probably still be alive." Shazali sighed, her head slumping down into a paw to regard Reznog more readily. "This one can't say she cares overly much for the humidity, or the insects that are nearly as large as her, or the fermented meat drink." "Rotmeth?" Raznog offered. "[I]Eecth.[/I] That is the one. It is good you brought your own supplies, but you may wish to stock up at the festival. The Bosmer will probably get somewhat pissy if you start eyeballing their flowers." Shazali sighed. "Do you think if a Khajiit were to grow Moon Sugar cane in Valenwood, the Bosmer would claim it is a part of the Green Pact? No wonder our people used to fight each other all the time before the Dominion." she pondered absentmindedly. Raznog shook his head, smiling as he turned his attention to the steam beginning to emerge from the kettle’s funnel. “You know, Shazali, you always grumble about something whenever we go somewhere new, but you always secretly love the new experiences. When we close up for the night, we’ll take a look around and see what strikes your fancy, yeah?” The Alfiq looked away defiantly. “So presumptuous! Shazali may not be a lightwell of cheer that you are, but she will have you know that Valenwood needs more dry sands and sweet-meats to be tolerable. How do these people make due without spices and real wine? Shazali fears their society will collapse if someone were to offer their King a salad. Would it be considered a threat, an assassination attempt?” she giggled. “Maybe the cherry tomatoes would be seen as his slain children. The horror!” she gasped. “More likely,” Raznog grinned conspiratorially with his companion. “They’d find a small little cat such as yourself to be a delicacy, what with a lifetime of marinating in moon sugar. You’d be their little sweet meat.” Shazali pouted with narrow eyes. “There is a darkness to you, Raznog. Shazali will have you know she is too gamey for consumption. More likely, they’d take their tree and run away. Who’s going to chase a walking tree? Simply ridiculous.” She said, returning to her book. [hr] Was Fjolte already that high? That drunk? He’d not long arrived at the festival and already the strange happenings were… Happening. There was no way that he could believe what his eyes were trying to tell him. He’d been making his way through the makeshift market row, on his way to find a quiet spot to take a moment to himself; to escape the crowd momentarily, and to ruminate on the events of the trip… Or simply just to let himself catch up with [i]himself[/i]. The lengthy travel through the rough terrain wasn’t sitting well on him. As he shuffled along languidly through the crowd, it was the sun catching the tubes of a wind chime that danced in front of him that stopped him in his tracks and forced his ears to halt and listen too. The uncomfortably tall man turned his head, running a clammy palm through his thick mane of hair to brush back the carefree strands that would have otherwise decided to stick to his forehead. [i]Humidity[/i] he thought to himself in a growl… Maybe he had said it out loud. Something was growling. His stomach perhaps? Fjolte patted one of his hands against it gently as if to encourage it to simmer down. And then he focussed on the sight, a cat was talking which only made him tilt his head marginally so. He’d met Alfiq before. They weren’t so strange and out of place. Not so out of place as… The Orsimer in spectacles and tailored clothing. Now that [i]was[/i] new. It was new, and precisely what he had hoped he might find in Valenwood. A kindly curiosity fell over the Monk as he then turned softly on his heel to walk up to their stall, and quietly he began to admire their wares as they chatted away without yet noticing him. Their very presence was almost enough to ground him from the previous self-inflicted turbulence. Raznog was fully attentive to the kettle at this point, prompting Shazali to toss a small rock that bounced off of his trousers. The Orsimer looked up to the Alfiq, who pointed a dainty paw towards the newcomer. Raznog turned to see a somewhat disheveled and perhaps inebriated Nord inspecting the wares that were for sale. He stood, grinning widely and approached, appreciating that the Nord looked to be a powerful man who simply was enjoying the celebrations in a way Raznog wished he could at that particular moment. “Welcome to Claw & Hammer Enchantments and Crafts, friend! We’ve got something for everyone, and if we don’t, we do enchantment services on site. What kinds of wares interest you?” Raznog asked enthusiastically, showcasing the wares. “We’ve got some more typical things, flaming daggers, frost maces, feather rings if you’re feeling a bit heavy after eating too much, yeah?” the Orc laughed, gently tapping Fjolte’s abs with the back of his hand. “Or maybe you’re in the market for a sweetheart? This dragonfly broach is rather fetching, and it helps mend wear and tear on the body, perfect for long walks without feeling tired! Or if you’re worried about food poisoning in these parts, this band just goes around your wrist and it helps prevent poisoning… I don’t know about you, my friend, but Bosmer cuisine just does not agree with me!” “I won’t waste your time and pretend I have the coin,” Fjolte replied with a chuckle and a half hearted shrug of his shoulders. His eyes, however, did land on the Dragonfly. It was intricate and beautiful, and, the enchantment sounded like something that could in fact be of use to him. He was feeling more sore than ever after this trek — relief in the form of a piece of jewellery he could easily hide away sounded divine. That piece was to be worn proudly though, to catch light and shimmer out with it, not to be stuffed into the shadows. “Only time food has given me any trouble was when there wasn’t enough,” he slurred with a wink in the Orc’s direction. “You make these yourself?” He asked, meeting Raznog’s gaze with his own glazed and sparkling eyes. "Only the pretty woodworking and painted bits; the magic touch is the work of my partner over there with the book." Raznog said with a proud smile, pointing to the Alfiq, who quietly sighed as she closed the Investigator Vale novel. Hopping off the table she was perched upon, she crossed the tent in a non-hurried manner before hopping up in a stool near the front display. "Shazali is the enchanter who is enchanting, yes? She also does custom services if nothing here catches your eye, although would she be wrong in assuming you did not have eyes on the broach, walker?" The Alfiq introduced herself, lifting a paw. The dragonfly took to the air and floated gently towards Fjolte for him to catch. "A simple health and stamina enchantment etched into the separate glass panes. It is weak and unremarkable for adventuring and fighting, but for someone who simply wishes to have their bodies keep up with their ambitions? Perhaps a voracious lover? It is more than suitable, this one thinks." Shazali explained in a tantalizing tone, as if it were both within Fjolte's price range and was absolutely essential for someone with his physique. “It has been quite a few winters now since I’ve given much thought to being a voracious lover,” Fjolte admitted candidly with a sigh. Taking a moment to think about his words, he glanced to the Alfiq and then to the Orc again. Perhaps he could give her something to smile about too, they weren’t the only unusual individuals at the festival. Once more, Fjolte spoke — only in the tongue of the Khajiit, Ta’agra. “I walk over many roads, and on paths that should be unwalked.” When not talking like his kin, his voice softened and his inflections changed — even his accent differed which spoke to the respect that he had for the language and khajiiti culture. He inclined his head to say as much to Shazali too. As he regarded the dragonfly, he sighed. “Beautiful,” Fjolte said, in the common tongue again. “Too beautiful for someone like me, but maybe I could take advantage of those custom services…” Shazali blinked and tilted her head, pleasantly surprised. It was very unlike a Nord to know her mother tongue, let alone speak it so beautifully. It was clear this man had spent time in Elsweyr, and more-so became immersed in its culture. She liked him, she decided. she replied in Ta’agra before transitioning back to the common tongue. “And someone like you surely must know you are beautiful, but your humbleness does you credit. What sort of work were you hoping to have done?” she asked. Raznog for his part regarded Fjolte with curiosity before returning to his kettle, feeling Shazali had it well in hand. The Orc wasn’t the only one with curious thoughts, Fjolte watched him too, thoughts jumbled in his mind between where Raznog had come from and how he ended up here, in the company of an Alfiq. He was an almost immaculate man, and the Nord looked down at his own [i]Goat Herder[/i] apparel with a sigh. “Hmm?” He mumbled out eventually, realising he’d followed a tangent of a thought that had taken him miles from the conversation with Shazali; he began carefully rubbing a plain silver ring on his finger before removing it with great care. It didn’t look like much at all. It was just a simple silver band with some etching into the side. A curly F, M, and H lined up next to each other — with a larger, and curlier S. Truthfully it was a rather gaudy piece but Fjolte handled it as if it were a flawless diamond. “My family ring,” he said happily, gazing deep into the Alfiq’s sparkling eye. “Perhaps… the enchantment from the brooch on this. Do you think it would work?” “Look around you, rhook; Shazali put fire enchantments in wood that does not burn. Tamriel is full of enchanted jewelry; why should yours be any different, hm?” she replied with a warm smile. “She will even do this for nothing more than the cost of the materials and a story about how you came to speak this one’s mother tongue with such grace.” she offered. “I was lucky enough that travels brought me to Elsweyr after a beautiful and mysterious woman pointed me in that direction,” Fjolte explained fondly, moving his hands this way and that, drawing the curvaceous shape of a woman in the space between himself and Shazali. “I met some wandering Monks, and being a hurt and misplaced youth at the time I followed until they let me join in,” he laughed, blinking slowly. “I learned a lot from their simple way of life. To respect the world around me and the like...” There was clearly more to the story, and it was the details he chose to omit that would become the clues to the truth. The truth was too truthful for right now, anyway. Everyone always wanted a [i]story[/i]. “I might push my luck now, on your gracious offer, but I’d like to hear how you met your companion too, if you have the time to tell that tale,” Fjolte found himself leaning against the table lazily, and yet still not allowing his weight to push against it and topple it in -- he was simply enjoying himself in company that already felt so familiar to him. He had decided he liked Shazali too. “There is beauty in simplicity, no?” Shazali replied warmly. “It is why Raznog and Shazali have traveled together for many moons. He left home to find a purpose after his family agreed to sell the business, and this one has a bit heavier of a tale she does not wish to share in polite company, but suffice it to say, family is a complicated matter and being free of its yolk has allowed this one to travel and find her own way.” She looked over to Raznog, who was busy pouring tea into three cups, she took notice of. “The big guy found this one when… well, when she approached him at a particularly unflattering moment of time and she challenged him to a game of cups so she could forget her brother for a few moments. He listened to Shazali, Shazali overshared, and she found that he was pleasant company and made me forget my troubles for a time. Shazali decided to leave the Baandari caravan that took her in to travel with Raznog, because it looked like he could use a companion and we both had room to grow.” she smiled warmly at the thought. “There have been no regrets so far.” “It’s nice to know I’ve tricked you into thinking I’m polite,” Fjolte chuckled as a twinkle of mischief scattered over his eyes. “But please, I will not pry,” he added reassuringly with an easy smile. “I’ve been travelling alone for a while until I met my latest friend, he’s been good company indeed. You… Forget what it’s like to forge a bond,” the Nord admitted, momentarily glancing away from Shazali, there was a hint of heavy regret in his tone that also seemed to take to his body as he slumped forward slightly. “But that is how I live,” he sighed, offering a suddenly wan smile as he looked back up. “I am glad you have each other. It’s clear you make a good team.” Raznog returned, placing a tea cup down next to Shazali, an adorably miniature sized one compared to his own, and he offered another to Fjolte. “Well pal, it’s never too late to reach out to new people and seeing what sticks. When I left Jehanna, I wasn’t exactly all that familiar with Khajiit or expecting to travel with one, let alone when that’s a mite more articulate than my neighbour’s housecat.” “And Shazali never expected to entwine her fate to a dapper flesh atronach.” the Alfiq hissed, although it was clear from her expression she wasn’t actually offended; it was playful ribbings between two close friends that many could relate to. “You’re too kind, Shazali.” Raznog chuckled, taking a sip of the citrus scented tea, the cup seeming comically small in his large hands. “Where’s this companion of yours? Bit of advice; if you’re feeling down about being solitary, maybe try to keep the people you like closeby and share these experiences together. You should go find your friend after you’re done here and see what else this festival offers together” Shazali smiled at Fjolte. “You’re a curious one, Walker, but it’s clear you carry no small amount of weight in your heart… and so does this one, but it does not mean it removes room for letting life fill it. Maybe in these forests and with all of these people your heart will find a new song to sing… and if ever you can’t find your way, you are always welcome here.” the Alfiq said, before transitioning seamlessly back to Ta’agra. , Fjolte answered quietly, placing a closed fist on his heart as a humble gesture to the kindly Alfiq. Then, he carefully took the teacup and directed a nod of acknowledgement towards Raznog too. The drink was delightfully fresh, a much-needed palette cleanser, and something in it was invigorating enough to ease some of the growing pain throughout his body. “We’ll see,” he said between sips. The Orc was not wrong; things were better shared, and so Fjolte smiled thankfully at the advice of both. He felt a sense of gratitude towards them, and validation in that his observation of them had been correct. “I’d imagine young Gwilym is on the prowl for a different kind of companion,” he jested -- immediately feeling like the comment was harsh. He suspected that there was a depth to Gwilym that the Breton hadn’t wished to reveal yet and it had become a wish of Fjolte’s to learn more about him. He sipped thoughtfully from the cup again, “you might not like it if I started to sing,” he said with a half-smile. “I’ve frightened off many a would-be friend that way,” he added with a snigger. The Nord began to straighten up again, “you both have been too kind to me today,” he said, finishing the tea. “I hope you are also here to enjoy this beautiful festival and not just work the whole way through? If there’s a song for me to find, perhaps one for you too, no?” “Kindness is a currency that is shared too infrequently, I think.” Raznog replied. “Besides, you’re more likely to come back with coin when you have a pleasant experience at our humble little enterprise, no?” the Orsimer teased with a playful wink. “But worry not, pal, we intend to take our own time seeing what’s going on around town and mingling with the rest of them.” “After everyone closes up tonight, there’s a community bonfire the merchants are putting on. We intend to be there… and you should join us.” Shazali said, sitting upright with a twinkle in her eye. “It also occurs to Shazali she has never asked you your name…?” “I might just do that,” Fjolte answered after thinking it over, though his attendance depended entirely on how much fun he’d allow himself in the time between then and now. He gave his new found friends a parting wave of his hand, electing to leave behind the family ring on the countertop before him. “Fjolte. My name is Fjolte.” Then, as quietly as he had approached, he disappeared from their stall — not completely, given that he stood practically head and shoulders above most. He simply became another traveler walking on by with the current of the crowd. Shazali picked up the silver band Fjolte had left in her care as she watched him go before piping up to Raznog. “See, Raznog? First customer and it hasn’t even been lunch yet.”