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Artur had quickly grown weary of hearing his own voice and silenced his own mumbled ballad, content to watch and listen as more entered the tent. It was difficult to discern who was stranger, the living statue, the carapaced insect with a crested horn that loosed a distorted chitter than might've passed for laughter or the cloaked axeman that laughed along with it. Then came the elf, horse and all - for that he perhaps felt a brief pang of sympathy for the mule he'd left outside, even beneath a canvas - followed by a leathery old crone hunched against a walking stick with her stomach laid bare, etched with all manner of scars. 

Furrowing his brow, Artur couldn't help but find something perculiar behind her. Behind the yellowed bones, talismans and totems... a [i]Kaimerian?[/i] In all his years of warring, Artur had never seen one of their kind so old as this, let alone a [i]woman[/i] of their breed. But the form was too distinct to be anything [i]but[/i] their kind, and he wagered it would only be a Kaimerian crone mad enough to venture out into a place as rabid as the Bone Sea, alone.

Or was she alone? The vigil he'd kept for raiders on the journey south came to mind. [i]No,[/i] not even the Kaimerians would have business here - they were not the sort to hide behind crones either, as far as he knew - too bold for that. Nonetheless, Artur found himself drawn to keeping an eye on [i]that one[/i] - if only for a time.

It seemed as though the others were steadily losing patience, if the disconcerted grimaces and furrowed brows were anything to go by - and eventually it was clear that the representative's had worn thin, snatching away the map from the would-be scribe. Shifting his weight forward, Artur listened to Tisa Iruve with a muted expression, his brow briefly arching as she warned of the Queen's willingness to cast agitators off the edge of her floating kingdom, then once more as she stated the terms of entry.

[i]Telportation?[/i] Artur misliked that, if only on principle. Place land or sea beneath his feet and he would've traversed the breadth of Deadwood - he had, for that matter. But to have his form subjected by unknown magics - it made his back bristle ever so slightly, even knowing what he'd been walking into. But truth be told, he was more wary of relinquishing his sword - though not for sentimental reasons, as any good steel could serve the same purpose - and gave thought to the other blades on his person. He kept a dagger concealed beneath his cloak and a hunting blade on his person that had served for general use, perhaps those he could've hidden.

Except, these were sorcerers and witches, mages and spellcasters. A dangerous lot to play such games with. Giving it further thought, Artur decided he would adhere to their law - for the time being. He'd taken a gamble already in coming this far, why render that wasted? 

[color=9ecff9]"Aye, I'll agree to those terms."[/color]

Besides, it wasn't often that royalty could meet face-to-face.

The arrival of Ari did nothing to dampen his spirits, though Artur found something particularly uncanny about the walking mushroom's features and how they didn't quite match the words slipping loose from its form. Though, if any would have need of its kind, the Exusians would. So, with a brief grunt, Artur shrugged - he meant the creature no ill and he'd seen his share of strange folk well before he'd been a man grown to be so repulsed here. [color=9ecff9]"I'd wager they'll find use for you yet, little mushroom."[/color] 

[i]Even if that use was in the cooking pot.[/i]

[color=9ecff9]"The dust storms will be upon us if we don't make haste"[/color] Artur finally motioned, [color=9ecff9]"Unless any of you mean to refuse the woman's terms, we should make ready."[/color] It was less a suggestion than it was a command.