Member
Ti
jasbraqEvander Fino Synesti
Primitive:
Hurdles and Naked Secrets
(Present)Hurdles and Naked Secrets
Location: Torragon Dune Sea
Peeps: Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos, Pan [@Piroutte], Marci @Force and Fury
Chaos. A normative sight to behold now a days. His eyes lifted to the sky, always testing aren't you? Evander spoke into the wind of the rising dust.
Which god would listen?
Which god cared?
The sand storm approached, turning and twisting the hands of fate round and round. The party split in different directions, Evander looked ahead.
A test or a death sentence?
If he ran there was a chance he'd be caught in the storm. If he stayed and sheltered up, there was a chance it'd be awhile before the storm dissipated, moved on, or broke through. He had some knowledge in temporal, but his skills did not allow him to teleport. In the distance in front of the sandstorm was an old ruined house. If he was quick enough, he could seek shelter there. It lasted this long, it must be strong enough, Evander thought.
It was his second year at Ersand'Enise. If he learned one thing, never back down from a trial. Each one was only going to make those who accepted the challenge - stronger. There were too many forces he had witnessed last year that prepared themselves to take out the next. Short cuts and bow outs were not rewarded in this world. He bent his knees, lifted the heels of his feet, twisted his toes into the sand to get a strong connection with the sand. He decided, He decided, "I will beat you," before he launched himself like a sprinting hurdler at the Avincian Olympics.
Sky walking on air, pouncing from height to height, punching his way up as fast as he could. Reaching over 1,000 feet, he shot down at his target... fast. The winds had kicked up dust reducing his vision. The beginning of its wave consumed Evander into its fold while tossing animals and objects in his way. Evander's perceptive skill and nimble abilities helped him evade, landing in the ruins before the sandstorm completely embraced the desert with its overwhelming arc of shimmering sand.
Evander was now safe... for now...
His eyes scanned the new environment as the storm roared and raged with wrath outside. Feeling his way around, he uncovered a trapdoor. A door that took him into a cellar where he unlocked a hidden gate. A gate that revealed tunnels. Tunnels that revealed a city. A city that revealed a people, the Cazenax.
"They...are," Cazelui allowed. "They're Cazenax and one is King Stazen and... you're really not from around here, are you?" She let out a low whistle and her eyes seized upon the gathering.
After having emerged from a trapdoor, Fiske, Desmond, and Evander found themselves confronted by a Sirrahi. A slender less-appealing one than Selena Disska, but one none the less. Her reaction was as surprised as the four tunnel rats standing before her. She talked about the Cazenax, King Stazen, and for a long moment, they met the eyes of Potés-Palix.
She glanced down at the four and looked mortified. "Wait a second! You came from the tunnels!?" Hastily, she dropped into the midst of the group, thumping the door shut with her tail and brushing sand all over it. "Are you working with the Sirui Hé!?" she demanded.
They seemed stunned into silence, or else they did not know how to answer. Cazelui's entire demeanour had changed. She fairly bristled with fear and... something else. "Are you!?" she repeated, eyes large as people began to take notice.
"What is the Sirui Hé?" A response of utter confusion radiated from Fiske. "Please calm down.. I do not understand what you might mean."
Desmond realized something when Cazelui answered his question, 'Wait. Humans and Sirrahi interact here? That can't be'. In that same moment he realized this was something else as Cazelui nearly pushed them into the tunnel again as she slammed the trap door shut and now questioned them if they knew the...Sirui Hé.
Desmond took a second to try and think in her shoes, there may have been only once she has heard that name, so she may have messed it up. It could have been a different thing all together, but Desmond decided to air on the side of caution and assumes she meant the Sirrahi. It seemed Fiske was in the same slight confusion as he seemed to ask the question Desmond was thinking as he added in, "Do you mean Sirrahi?"
She was in a near-panic. "Sirrahi?" she questioned. "Is that another way to say it?" Her voice lowered. "The Free Partners: the liberators."
Then, there were voices, and fingers pointing their way. It was clear that these people were not human, even if they were something like humans. A preteen boy who seemed to be missing both legs squeezed out from between two others and scanned the new arrivals. Dozens seemed to regard the four with wonderment and then... a small, vigorous young man with bright red skin, gold hair, and luxurious dark robes joined them. "He is the king," Cazelui hiss-whispered. "Bow." She coiled herself atop the trap door and brought action to her words.
"And as I have long promised!" King Stazen declared, striding confidently toward them as the crowd parted, "Visitors from afar shall come to know our lands, to trade and exchange, to partake of our culture and traditions, to learn from us and to share wonders of their own!" Arbitrarily, he chose Fiske's hand to take and to raise, and the crowd cheered. Somehow, they could understand him. His eyes found theirs and issued something between a plea and a warning. They seemed to say, "just go along with it, okay? Work with me here!"
They bowed. Evander did not.
"Pardon my ignorance," Evander politely spoke with soft eyes. He would give this 'thing' the benefit of the doubt, a tact approach was best. "Cazelui graciously pronounced you as a king," Evander looked at Calzeui, then back to Stazen, "but, I am not familiar with your rule, would you be so kind as a merciful king to share your story and that of this prophecy you've foretold, so that I may be more inclined to bow my head as a Noble of Constantia and recognize your rule in full for what it is."
Evander's posture was warm, non-threatening, and with arms wide open. He was demonstrating friendliness, humility, and a nod to the standards that befit two 'Nobles' who meet at a similar social station. His motivation was to gather a better picture of this land, the people who stood in front of them, where they were, and who was about to start commanding their movement based on his own prophetic agenda.
There was silence, then...
He laughed...
And laughed...
Like a nervous fool.
Evander waited, patiently.
The snarl remarks blew from Stazen's mouth. He deflected by using the excuse of his current responsibilities, used his people as a safeguard, and then called their party late and rude. What did it matter when they arrived? It didn't. The loose words of a king projecting dominance by suggesting those he was addressing were in the 'wrong'. A little odd considering they all just met. A little odd considering he had just made grand proclamations to the crowd about their arrival. Evander was puzzled by this outburst. Was this king threatened by him? Taking a look at Stazen, I guess if I were him, everything would feel threatening.
Evander tilted his head at Stazen, "I didn't ask for you to educate me or for your forgiveness," Evander kept a firm gaze, "I asked for trust." The fact that this king couldn't see past his own nose was obvious, and that made Evander uneasy. There was a scent of insecurity wafting from Stazen's leathery flesh. How could he trust a king who felt the need to be defensive against a polite and warm 'visitor'. One, moments ago, he was touting in his own honor.
Of course as expected from the coward. This Stazen character never acknowledged Evander's question. Instead, he indulged himself in drink, but before he did, Pan tested it.
"Poison..." She let slip in the quietest of tones. The scent of the sweetwater had already begun to distort with whatever was inside and her trained nose could smell it. Her stomach burned but it wasn't due to the poison but rather the rapid burn of calories to regenerate the damage the poison was causing. It would eventually thin out but she'd need to eat a hearty meal soon as she'd be entering starvation soon. She backed away closing the cap, deciding against dumping it as it might have caused too much of a scene. Instead, she opted to detract more from the rising tension. "A sour cactus, your majesty. Our little one will need to buy a new one..." She turned, shaking the bottle and raising it. "Aaaah it was free at least!" The Cazenax crowd laughed. "We should go pay boy so he can buy new, fresh cactus, your majesty." She ran her thumb over the cap and considered... Well... she was right earlier... The foreigners would bring excitement.
"Thank you for sparing me a foul drink, Exquisite One." Cazelui bowed deeply before Pan and the king, but something was wrong. Marceline's eyes, meanwhile, found those of Evander and Fiske.
In the meantime, Stazen turned to his mother and whispered, "Find him, and bring him to the Omenaxan, alive, preferably." With that, he turned to the crowd. "Well then, I guess you get what you pay for, folks, eh?" He let out a laugh, but then he shook his head. "And we are told that the 'real thing' is better than what we can craft from the Vozas? Further proof, my friends and people!"
With that, a handful of figures slipped out from the crowd and began moving aggressively.
Evander puzzled at the word, Omenaxan, what creature inhabit the tunnel city that signaled to others judgment and punishment?
Marci glanced at Fiske and was just about to speak when four of the guards stepped forward, interposing themselves between the king, who was quickly moving along, and the group of four foreign teens. "It'll be easier if you answer some of our questions without making a scene," warned the old woman as they began to surround the quartet and their stuzé accomplice.
Pan would turn to eye the foreigners, narrowing her gaze in suspicion. She didn't anticipate this, instead wanting to insert her way whatever the foreigners were up to. Taking the drink was an innocent enough way to join in but now... poison? Who would have thought. Was Cazelui involved? The foreigners? Or somebody else? She'd linger close to King Stezan, her nose working to sniff out something she may have missed.... Nothing.
Fiske was starting to put one and two together around his scaley acquaintance. blending the trapdoor they arrived from with the rest of the ground, seeing as it seemed rather important to Cazelui. His gaze then turned to the old woman. softening his voice so it could mostly be kept between the two of them. "Questions to people that are from lands so far away that this nation was unknown to us." The Huulisch boy then pointed to his eyes and ears. "Even if I was not part of this, I think my abilities can be very much of use to catching the ones trying to poison your king."
Cazelui waved near-frantically for Pan to come over. They were at least acquainted, for what it was worth, and the cazenax slid in towards her warily. "The Omenaxan!?" she hissed. "What is going on? What's Potés gotten himself into this time?" She swallowed. "What's he gotten me and these humans into?"
Evander turned to the old woman with a perplexed look on his face, "it'll be easier if you tell us why you want to question us." The audacity of these people, first, his question was deflected, and now they expect him to answer their questions? Not until they start explaining themselves.
Pan kept a tight grip on the bottle of poisoned sweetwater. She thought about finding someway to figure out how it was poisoned but she only knew how to cook food, not really how chemistry worked. Her mind began to wonder who could help before Cazelui's hiss for her attention. Pan slipped to the side of Cazelui, cautiously. They were familiar due to Cazelui being the one to clean the griddles most times. She did good work and Pan had cooked for Cazelui sometimes as a means of thanks. Although there wasn't a strong bond to put her above suspicion. It may have been fair that Cazelui wanted to know what may have gotten unwittingly into but at the same time, why did she need to know. "How familiar are you with the humans and you didn't look like you were eager to take a drink. What are you currently into, Cazelui?"
Marci had been about to speak when Evander took the words right out of her mouth. "I, too, am curious" she added, "also as to what's going on here. It was difficult to miss the abrupt change in tone: from feted to questioned at the drop of a hat." Her eyes slid in Pan's direction, "Or a bottle, perhaps?" Cazelui was working to calm herself. How could this be happening!? She couldn't betray her people, but... "I met them when they came out of the Sirui Hé trap door that's literally right below me," she whispered, radiating anxiousness with every word and action. "I move, I get incriminated in whatever they were involved in, especially as a stuzé!
Whatever Evander and Marci had said, it was lost on the Dowager Queen. She regarded Fiske with narrowed eyes, which flicked the way of the other two and then came to rest on Cazelui who shrak back somewhat at her gaze. "It is as you said." She nodded. "Perceptive, I will admit, but how do we know that you and this stuzé -" she made a face of distaste "were not part of the plot?" She twisted to take in Pan. "Had this young lady - whose abilities are well-known - not gotten involved, my son would be dead or dying right now." She spread her hands. "I am not accusing you outright, but you are a new element appearing at a very precise place and time. You must admit that, were you in my position, you'd be foolish not to at least investigate the possibility."
Evander's brows furrowed, "Again, I am unsure of who your son is, and who you are." His lips pursed and mouth tightened forming a thin line, he was annoyed. "What would any of us gain from seeing your son dead when we don't even know who he is, seriously?"
Marci looked with annoyance at Evander and gave him a small signal with her fingers. She knew that Fiske had already worked his magic and she had to trust it now. The lanky youth was quieter as he maintained the spell. "Seriously, this... snake person said he was the king around here when she almost fell on us, and he's clearly someone important." She rolled her eyes. "Does it really matter? They think we were in on poisoning him or something." She turned to the Dowager Queen. "Look, your majesty. I don't mean to sound rude or disrespectful, but we're complete strangers here. What possible reason would we have for getting involved in your internal politics? We were in the wrong place at the wrong time and you can see my friends here are completely clueless. Why would anyone want to assassinate him?" She blinked a couple of times and smiled helpfully. "We'd be happy to assist in finding the true culprit, though, as a gesture of good will." She gestured in Fiske's direction.
The Dowager Queen looked at Marci, at Evander, and at Fiske but, once more, her eyes settled on Cazelui. They narrowed. "Perhaps I believe you," she admitted. "You are hardly inconspicuous as assassins, after all." She was looking at the sirrahi, however, almost glaring. "You," she commanded, "move."
Cazelui bowed her head and stumbled for words. "I'm very sorry, your magnificence, if I've caused any trouble..." Then the others noticed it. She was drawing. She was doing it slowly, but she was drawing, and it was a lot. "For it certainly wasn't my intention. Truly, you must believe me when I say that I was innocent in all of this. Circumstances have conspired to make it appear the opposite..." Still, she drew, and it was clear that she was preparing for either a fight or a flight. "I was and remain a loyal subject. This was pure coincidence and ill fortune. I shall of course move, but -"
Then, the Dowager Queen brandished a wand. "I said move, demon!" It flared with energy and Cazelui let out a small scream, freezing in place and clutching at her chest. Robotically, as if against her will, she slithered off of the trap door and all around her who knew of its existence held their collective breath.
Pan had heard Cazelui talked about the trapdoor but from where she stood, she could not see anything. Perhaps if Cazelui moved and she opened her mouth to address this before the Dowager Queen graciously inserted her way into the conversation, bringing the foreigners along with. "A small thing, your grace. I was doing what any good Cazenax would do."
Then Cazelui was demanded to move and Pan's eyes shifted to the spot where Cazelui lay cowled, flinching slightly at the Dowager Queen's more forceful method of removal. The stuzé was removed and....
Nothing but the ground. At this point Pan felt a rush of confliction. Cazelui spoke sincerely and yet... it seemed like nothing was there. A lie or a truth? "What might you be expecting moving the coiled one, Queen Mother?" Pan asked innocently enough in a convincing tone to sound like she really had no idea what the Dowager Queen was intending.
Evander knew what he witnessed. He had faced it before... and always won. This, old woman used COMMAND magic. Evander noted.
The old woman seemed annoyed. She hid it well, but... very much so. She scowled, releasing Cazelui, who slumped over with a small yelp. "Very well then." The Dowager forced a tight smile and even inclined her head graciously in Evander's direction. "I appear to have been mistaken and you have my apologies for the inconvenience." She glanced Pan's way and her face seemed to say, "come now, girl, truly?" She may have missed the door thanks to Fiske's clever illusion, but it was painfully clear that something had been hidden.
She addressed the others. "We have guards on the job already, of course, but it would go a long way towards publicly demonstrating your goodwill and gaining our trust if you would join them in seeking out the perpetrator of this attempted regicide." She smiled and, while it was likely meant to be pleasant, it was not. "You will find such good faith amply reciprocated, particularly should you prove successful. One must always be on guard for the disruptive elements and desperate criminals within a society." She continued to regard Cazelui with suspicion for a moment longer before looking imperiously away. She did not see the way that the stuzé rose up momentarily and glared daggers at her back before shrinking away once more, rubbing at her chest.
Fiske, for what it was worth, was quick to agree, and almost obsequiously polite about it.
"Of course, your high ladyship" Pan nodded taking the hint turning back down to the bit of ground where Cazelui had coiled before continuing. "But seems like the slithering sort was merely cowering. Split tongues might not taste well but I hear they smell well. I know not the way Cazelui senses."
Evander looked over to Cazelui who he saw glare daggers at the old woman's back. He approached Cazelui, extended his hand as if to show her he was willing to pick her up from her coiled state. Then, he softly asked, "what was that about?"
As the foreigners offered to take on the case of finding the poisoner, Pan saw her chance to get more involved into this deeper mystery. She would not be on the outside of this for long, she declared internally. "Perhaps..." She stepped pursuing the Lady Dowager, gesturing for her to lean in. "I can keep an eye on the foreigners and the stuze. I'll see what I can find out. Best not to leave them to come up with their own conclusions." She said wily.
Evander looked over to Cazelui who he saw glare daggers at the old woman's back. He approached Cazelui, extended his hand as if to show her he was willing to pick her up from her coiled state. Then, he softly asked, "what was that about?"
She took the hand. "That woman," she hissed quietly, "She smells of sweat, and the bad kind." She shook her head tightly. "Blessing and curse of we stuzé: we never miss a scent, or even a scent within a scent." She rose until she was of a height with the humans and somewhat taller than the cazenax. "Thank you, chivalrous one." She bowed and managed a small, polite smile.
As the foreigners offered to take on the case of finding the poisoner, Pan saw her chance to get more involved into this deeper mystery. She would not be on the outside of this for long, she declared internally. "Perhaps..." She stepped pursuing the Lady Dowager, gesturing for her to lean in. "I can keep an eye on the foreigners and the stuze. I'll see what I can find out. Best not to leave them to come up with their own conclusions." She said wily.
The Dowager blinked. She did not like Pan. The little floozy had corrupted her son years ago. Nobody else saw it, but she did. She scowled. Still, the girl was almost certainly trying to curry favour, and that was near a bad thing, so long as she was made to work for it. "Yes, you go do that. Do not let them out of your sight."
Pan bowed reverently, though partially to hide her widening grin. "Of course, your reverence, I exist at this moment to save the King's life." She said plainly and without context, it would have meant nothing but it was the slightest jab given their history. It wouldn't have done good for either to call out attention to it either. What also would not have benefited Pan would be to call out the certain smell she picked up, weak, but it was there. With the Dowager's departure, Pan continued to work her nose taking the last bit of that certain smell before turning to walk back towards the foreigners.
With the Dowager's permission, Pan turned and wafted her free hand as she approached the foreigners. "We are innocent, yes? Good. Like it or not, I am here to watch and help. Now we find assassin and we are all go away happy, good-good?" She nodded to each of them, even Cazelui.
She pulled the bottle from behind her back and took a smell of the cap now that her nose palette had been cleared. Many years as a cook, she had spent learning chemical magic not for the fancy explosions or tricks but for the subtleties of tastes and aromas. This was an unintentional consequence as she smiled, knowingly. She gestured to the bottle. "You may be wondering how I drink and no sickness? Easy story. I am mana-glutton so I eat-eat-eat, nothing I can't eat."
With that, they started moving, but to where, Marci and the others had little idea. "So," the youngest member of the impromptu squad wondered aloud, "Any ideas where to look?"
What was four became five. Marci, Pan, Desmond, Fiske, and Evander. The party relied on Marci to find them a trail to track. She pointed east, away from the gate. The stuzé took the lead and they followed. Entering a bazaar of spieces, perfumes, smoke, shit, and sweat. The mixes of smells invaded the hairs of their nostrils. In this bazaar there were sirrahi, centaurs, imps, honred demons, golems, and beings of all kinds, oh my! What were all of these creatures doing in a place like this? Children dashed, vendors shouted, coins clinked, laughter split in dizzying directions, and there were exotic, unique, and tempting wares of all kinds.
Evander was rushed by a sirrahi who wasn't paying attention to their own nose. The two crashed and without pause, the sirrahi kept going while tossing some side apologies out into the air as he slithered off. Evander carefully took a scan of his surroundings spotting Desmond and Fiske trailing the tail of the sirrahi, and some cazenax staring at him. "Stupid imps," Evander said under his breath as the two bolted in reaction to Evander's gaze and forward motion, "fearful little tunnel roaches." Instead of pursuing them in a cat and mouse chase, Evander turned to tail behind his classmates.
There were two cazenax who didn't see Evander coming, two that would became alarmed when he made his presence known. They rose to their full height, shorter than Evander, they spoke in cazenax tongue. Evander realizing the conversation wouldn't go far, he tried asking using body language, "What are you two paying attention too?" He thought they were observing their party a little too closely. What he found out was that they were high, offering Evander to join.
Evander without thinking took hold of the strange rolled-up paper. He was in a foreign land, talking to strangers without an ability to understand their language. Maybe this was his gateway to understanding what the hell they might be saying, maybe he could get this stupid investigation over with sooner rather than later if he could understand Cazenax. What better way than participating in their culture. A logic he justified in his head as he slipped the rolled-up paper between his index finger and thumb. Softly raising the dead end to his pursed lips. He figured it wasn't poison since they had been smoking it. He took a drag, inhaling whatever contents were inside. The opposite end illuminated a orangish hue and settled on a deep red after he finished.
It was... pleasant enough, and even relaxing. The pent-up stress of the past day or so started to evaporate. "Me." One of the men pointed at himself. "see." He pointed at his eyes and then at the shed. "Stuzé" He mimed a snake. "Go. Bad." He shook his head. "You know human?" He raised two clawed fingers to indicate the number.
Evander could feel his traps, shoulders, and lower back ease with his exhalation. Smoke drifted from his mouth and nostrils. The taste of the contents inside the rolled-up paper tasted sweet, rather vanilla even. It was surprisingly enjoyable. His face felt relaxed, then he heard the Cazenax speak... no... he could understand them when they spoke.
"What is this stuff?" He pointed to the rolled-up paper.
Evander could feel his traps, shoulders, and lower back ease with his exhalation. Smoke drifted from his mouth and nostrils. The taste of the contents inside the rolled-up paper tasted sweet, rather vanilla even. It was surprisingly enjoyable. His face felt relaxed, then he heard the Cazenax speak... no... he could understand them when they spoke. "What is this stuff?" He pointed to the rolled-up paper.
"Stoagi," said one. "Bacas," said the other. "Bacas. Oasc." They nodded at each other and at him. They didn't seem to be very threatening now.
Meanwhile, a good ways away, outside of the city, a donkey walked in a straight line through the desert, pulling its wagon towards a specific destination.
Evander smiled and repeated, "Stoagi." and "Bacas." He nodded, "I like," as he puffed another hit, "Mind if I snag this one from you two?" He looked over to see Desmond and Fiske disappearing.
Evander smiled and repeated, "Stoagi." and "Bacas." He nodded, "I like," as he puffed another hit, "Mind if I snag this one from you two?" He looked over to see Desmond and Fiske disappearing.
They nodded and waved their hands. You. See. Stuzé. You. Come. Us. Okay?" Said one pleasantly. This was, apparently, a stakeout tradition of theirs. "Go. Small. House." One laughed. "Oasc," says the other with a laugh, slapping Evander on the back and motioning the act of smoking.
Evander made his way inside. Something strange must've been happening with time. By the time he made it in, Fiske and Desmond were crawling through a small door, piling up a stack of wood behind them. He was just on time.
Desmond looks to see Evander had somehow found them as he gestured for him to get to them quick, "Hurry up we are following someone".
Fiske began to slowly pull the door shut with the use of kinetic magic. "If you don't go fast we will leave you behind." The Huulish boy stuck out his tongue, a smug aura emanating from him.
Evander responded to Desmond, "My guy we're good, they only got one way to go, the same way we do." He nearly tripped as he followed the two through the door and chuckled out loud at the absurdity of chasing a stranger through a underground city. Fiske shot his tongue out with a quick lick of words. "We'll leave you behind." Evander tilted his head, raised his Stoagi as he passed Fiske with his mouth open and shoved the Stoagi in his mouth, "Chill, slow is smooth, smooth is fast, puff that and you'll see."
"I don't need that abfall! Smoke it if you'd like but leave scheisse out of my general area!" A face of pure disgust appeared on Fiske's face as he was offered a puff.
"I don't need that abfall! Smoke it if you'd like but leave scheisse out of my general area!" A face of pure disgust appeared on Fiske's face as he was offered a puff.
Evander shrugged, took another hit. His hand came down on Fiske's shoulder, with a polite smile Evander said, "Sounds like you might, but I'll respect ya'." He raised his hand and kept walking forward.
Still going tit-for-tat, they emerged into a midsized room with a low ceiling and three doors. There were two that looked relatively normal - one with heavy wear and tear and the other much less so - and a third that was smaller, barely larger than the one they'd come through. The room itself was quite dark, but... then they noticed the lighting. It was bioluminescent. Desmond, still high on his earlier triumph and master of mushrooms, was the first to investigate. It was fungus, and emitted a cold bluish sort of light. There was little more than a workbench, some crates, and some barrels inside.
Evander shrugged, took another hit. His hand came down on Fiske's shoulder, with a polite smile Evander said, "Sounds like you might, but I'll respect ya'." He raised his hand and kept walking forward.
The laid back version of the stuck-up prick still gave him the chills. "What?... What has this place done to you?.."
Evander laughed out loud at Fiske's comment and then stopped as quickly as he started; looked around, "Wait... where'd the snake go?"
Once again, they found themselves crouching, but this door, as well, had a rudimentary lock.
They felt the door was locked, Evander didn't hesitate; casually waving his hand, the door clicked open. He looked at the others, "smooth is fast." emphasizing his comment earlier to Fiske, "we golden." The door slowly breached open.
Evander made quick work of the lock. Beyond was a short crawlspace and then they emerged into a small room with a table, two chairs, and a bed piled high with bright white pillows and blankets. Light streamed in from a small, slit-like barred window at the top of the room, bathing swirling dust motes in sunset's red-gold light. A small travel sack lay on the floor by the bed.
Then, the massive piled of rumpled sheets moved and...
Boobs.
A young cazenax woman sat bolt upright in bed, tangled, sweaty black hair spilling down the sides of her face and over lean muscular shoulders. She let out a cry and quickly covered herself. "Néts lix nad!?" she exclaimed anxiously, wrapping herself up in the sheets and stealing a glance at her bag.
Then, she blinked and took in that her visitors weren't cazenax. She seemed extremely anxious. "Wh-who are you?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting between them and the bag. "What are you do here!?"
Evander caught headlights as the nearly naked cazenax stumbled out of bed, "Whoa! Just passing through, looking for a friend." His hands came up waving to gesture they weren't a threat. Wait, why was he explaining himself? Evander switched gears and pointed at the travel bag, "Looks like you might be doing the same." He followed up with the same questions she had asked, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
That was the beginning of the interrogation. By the end, lewd jokes were made, frustrations were ignited, and the party would find out this woman, Samaxi, was Potes-Palix. They would also discover leads that may have had a hand in poisoning the drink of the foolish Stazen. Without waiting any longer, the party would begin to follow up on those suspects who were listed by Samaxi.
Grillmasters, Talo-Tecazan-Mostix-Cazui, and maybe some of the Sirrahi who had reason to think Stazen was too slow.
