Café de Nuit

NeoTiamat wrote:“Do you need help setting the stand?” Katja said. She had followed along, though with a look at the Reniers, she seemed to be re-thinking the wisdom of that.

"Oh, merely set the folding table here and your part is done," Mercator said politely. "Many thanks, mademoiselle. If you would use your exalted position to my advantage, monsieur Renier, I could use some assistance in hanging the banner." Setting down the two camp stools under his arm, he opens his satchel and removes a roll of black cloth. Unrolling it, he fishes out a cord attached to one end and threads it through a dull grey sphere about an inch across with a hole running through it, ties it off, and then tosses the sphere up to Bertrand, letting the banner unroll and flutter in the gentle breeze. "If you would just let that down the other side?"

The banner is perhaps five feet high and two across, with a sun-and-moon face at its center. The faces are ringed by five small silver spheres, which are in turn surrounded by a ring of many-pointed stars. "Excellent," Mercator says, smiling broadly. "We are open for business." Seating himself, he takes a small black bag, a small black book, and a lead pencil from an inner pocket of his coat and jots a few notes.

Somehow, 'Was Sebastian okay?' eluded Tomas while they were walking. His mind has been wandering. Oh good, more Hazlani, Tomas thinks, rubbing the sore spot on his left elbow and remembering fighting that army of crocodile men. And then he sees a potion marked 'Powder of Dragon's Breath' and has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

So much for plan 'let the wizards talk.' He's got to say something. "What kind?" Tomas asks, pauses, and clarifies. "Of dragon's breath."

"Sçegh," Lia greets the Hazlani - 'If that is what you are,' she adds in thought. She quickly peruses the list of potions and raises an eyebrow. "Who is - or was - Ilsabet?" she asks. "And what is the function of this 'potion of unquenched life'?"

"Oh, how enchanting!" Celeste reacted to the interior of the Emporium like a kid would to a candy store, or, as the case may be, a teenager in a divination tent. The examination didn't involve any touching, of course--she was cognizant enough of the dangers of arcane study to know that poking ritual equipment was sometimes a bad idea--but it was comprehensive none the less. It ended with Inky herself; at this point, Celeste defaulted to "meeting a new friend at a cocktail party" mode.

"It is an unalloyed pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mlle. Halvari--and what a surpassingly harmonious dress! I have always been quite enraptured by the pastoral style, you understand; one recalls the pristine fields of the Borcan countryside. Ah, memories! You must tell me where you acquired it, Mlle. Halvari, if I may presume to discuss millinery upon such a brief acquaintance." Celeste did not remark on Inky's tail, because that would have been gauche.

"Ah, but as to our purpose!" She gathered herself somewhat. "I am Celeste Mirielle Viardot, of Bienassis--and I come this night upon a matter of some arcane importance, good mademoiselle, being apprised of your expert familiarity with the realm of the spirits." Celeste paused, not exactly sure of the best way to ask about revivifying a recent incarnation of Death.

Okay, well, here was one: "On this particular matter, I shall first defer to my more knowledgeable comrades." She gestured pleasantly enough in Kerrian and Agale's direction.

1 Days, 23 Hours, 35 Minutes
Kasim al-Darwish's Pavilion, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Tomas wrote:So much for plan 'let the wizards talk.' He's got to say something. "What kind?" Tomas asks, pauses, and clarifies. "Of dragon's breath."

“Is fire, noble master.” Kasim al-Darwish said with a broad smile that nevertheless kept his lips pressed shut. Al-Darwish had a strange kind of lisp, never opening his mouth very wide as he spoke. Nevertheless, he gestured for Tomas to observe, and withdrew a tiny packet of waxed paper. “Is sample, for demonstration.”

The Hazlani ripped the package open, then swallowed it. Whatever was inside the little packet reacted with his breath, and the merchant breathed forth a tongue of flame some three feet long. All from a packet of paper no large than a man's fingernail.

“Is alchemical creation of this one. It has in it sulfur, other things, is a very secret recipe. Reacts with moisture and life's breath.” Al-Darwish said, then smiled again. “That is sample, very small. Full packet, size of hand... breath of death.”

“If you need, this one can make casting forth of acid, or poison, or lightning, but will take time and slightly greater expense. Fire, fire is ever popular.”

Powder of Dragon's Breath

Lia wrote:"Sçegh," Lia greets the Hazlani - 'If that is what you are,' she adds in thought. She quickly peruses the list of potions and raises an eyebrow. "Who is - or was - Ilsabet?" she asks.

“Ilsabet! That one is good little worker. Is employee, you might say.” Al-Darwish said, rising from his chair and dodging into his luxurious tent for a moment. When he returned, he came bearing a large glass jar, the inside of which contained a twig, and a great deal of spiderweb. Al-Darwish tapped the glass with a long, clawed finger, and Lia could see a tiny grey-and-black spider scuttling in the jar. The creature was miniscule, no more than an inch across, with a mottled appearance. “This is Ilsabet. From Kislova, very rare.”

“Her web, is very toxic. In one's blood, it destroys nerves. Very painful, brain melts from inside.” Kasim al-Darwish smiled. “In nature, web has tiny barbs, injects little venom, kill fly. This one takes and dissolves little bit in solutions, herbs so one's blood does not clot. You put on big barb, on sword or dagger, catch something bigger than flies.”

The Hazlani seemed to be enjoying this too much.

Diluted Ilsabet's Kiss

Lia wrote:"And what is the function of this 'potion of unquenched life'?"

“One drinks it, one is harder to kill. Does not bleed so much, does not die so easy.”

Potion of Unquenched Life 1 Days, 23 Hours, 35 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Nathan of the FoS wrote:"Excellent," Mercator says, smiling broadly. "We are open for business." Seating himself, he takes a small black bag, a small black book, and a lead pencil from an inner pocket of his coat and jots a few notes.

“Wonderful. Now if you'll excuse me.” Bertram drawled, then began to rather ostentatiously snore on his tree branch. Bertriz rolled her eyes, and in a few moments her brother stopped. The other Renier sat on the grass by the tree to wait, while Katja, too full of energy to merely stand at attention if there was no need, began to patrol about the ground near the Century Oak.

It did not take very long for a customer to in fact arrive at Mercator Melanchthon's stall. He was a well-built man of indeterminate age, his face covered with a plain white mask, his clothing aristocratic. His hair was golden blond and fell in curls as the man peered at the banner hanging from the tree, then at Mercator.

“Ah... I understand there's a physician in residence? A Dr... ah... Melanchthon?” The man had a hesitant sort of voice, clearly not wanting to be a bother, equally clearly having a problem. He pronounced Mercator's surname perfectly, however. “If it's not too much trouble, I don't suppose I could have a few minutes of your time? Oh, compensated, of course. There's a young lady at my stall who's become very ill, could you help?”

It took Mr. Agale several moments to piece together what was going on. His usually dour face positively flushed at the implication. He shot Petrik a sharp look. He could easily guess the price that would be asked, should this Halvari possess what their group required.

To his credit, the Borcan proved he was capable of smiling should the situation merit it. "A genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance madam," With a grand gesture, he took a sweeping bow, taking the woman's hand in his own and bestowing a light kiss.

Inky wrote: "What would you like me to do for you?"

Treacherous. It is a fine line we walk here indeed. "We perhaps would have interest in a spell capable of extricating a tangle of spirits from an unfortunate mortal shell." he said offhand. Better to begin negotiations from a nonchalant position rather than reveal one's hand. "Also, I am quite curious as to what the sand is for?"

Mercator stands and bows, puzzling over the phrasing of the request. A young lady at his stall... Could this be the slaver Dior? An unpleasant thought, and a situation producing a nest of potential complications. But perhaps it is something else entirely...one may always hope.

"I am Doctor Melanchthon, monsieur, at your service. May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing? And is the young lady presently in danger of her life?"

"These are fine and powerful potions," Lia says with a respectful nod to the Hazlani. "However... do you have other brews not on this list? I am in the market for magics that can revivify undead flesh, and scatter spirits meshed together into their individual selves, as was theorized in the Easan Document published by the Red Academy three years ago. Can you provide such a thing, monsieur?"

"Also...well...what would you need to talk to a dead person, and how much of the definition of person do they need to fit?" Kerrian suddenly asked, ignoring the merchant's amorous intentions towards Mr.Agale for the moment. Of course, what he could be blathering on about with fitting the definitions of person was anyone's guess.

1 Days, 23 Hours, 27 Minutes
Kasim al-Darwish's Pavilion, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Lia wrote:"However... do you have other brews not on this list? I am in the market for magics that can revivify undead flesh, and scatter spirits meshed together into their individual selves, as was theorized in the Easan Document published by the Red Academy three years ago. Can you provide such a thing, monsieur?"

There was a pause as Kasim al-Darwish tried to interpret Lia's words through his tenuous grasp of Mordentish, before venturing, a little more hesitantly than before. “Revivify...one wishes to raise the dead? Necromancy? This one may provide, has potion, creates zombi by Souragnien recipe. Is very difficult potion to make properly, requires fish imported from afar, very expensive.”

“We don't need a zombie.” Remy said, very firmly.

“Then you wish to raise... ah.” Al-Darwish said, shaking his head. “Honored scholar, to raise the dead to true life is the sole province of the gods and the unspeakable ones. This one, to his eternal good fortune, is neither. The rest... this one does not understand what you wish. To scatter spirits...?”

“Ah... perhaps it might be best if I take over for a moment?” Remy ventured, then proceeded to engage the potion-seller in conversation in Vaasi. Al-Darwish still had a strange style of speaking in that language, always keeping his mouth as closed as possible, but in short order the merchant shook his head.

“Now this one understands. Ruh ekliyor, soul-splicing, to separate dead souls from one another.” Al-Darwish said, spreading his hands wide, which would have looked more regretful had they not been tipped with claws the sort a tiger would have been envious of. “This one can do nothing to the dead. This one is an alchemist and brewer of potions, and the dead do not drink.”

1 Days, 23 Hours, 27 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Mercator wrote:"I am Doctor Melanchthon, monsieur, at your service. May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing? And is the young lady presently in danger of her life?"

“M. Armand Dior, at your service.” The white-masked man with the golden hair said. He looked worried. “And I think she is. She's running a fever and has stopped eating. I'm dreadfully worried. Do say you'll come take a look? Please?”


1 Days, 23 Hours, 27 Minutes
Inky's Emporium, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Agale wrote:"We perhaps would have interest in a spell capable of extricating a tangle of spirits from an unfortunate mortal shell." he said offhand.

"Ooooh," Inky cooed in genuine sounding concern, though she blushed and giggled at the attention being lavished upon her. "It has been a while since anyone asked me to exorcise spirits -- or asked me where I got my dress. Oh, but I can remove such things for you, certainly," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. She smiled, before clarifying, "It is more difficult with many spirits than just one. That is very unusual."

She held her tail behind her back, leaning to and fro as she pondered. "You must tell me how such a thing happened! If it is magic, what I do will be different than if it is a group of spirits." She went over to fish her ladle out of the water basin. "And, how many spirits are within this poor mortal? Three? Seven?"

Agale wrote:"Also, I am quite curious as to what the sand is for?"

"It is a mystic sand that aids in healing," Inkeri explained, her tail playfully sneaking forth to brush against Agale's leg. "The grains contain an essence within them. Those who are skilled at aiding others can tap into it, and augment their powers."

Silver Sand

Kerrian wrote:"Also...well...what would you need to talk to a dead person, and how much of the definition of person do they need to fit?"

"Mortals speak most often after death. Other things return to where they came from, to the sea, the earth, and the winds," the Huldra said. "You need something they are connected to, if you wish to call them. Otherwise, they cannot hear. The flesh and bones that housed them is the strongest."

"There are almost-dead who do drink, however," Lia says, not to be dissuaded so easily, "and of course all living things must drink.

Honoured Alchimist, have you ever heard of baltya, Poison For The Dead Who Walk? I had heard that it was a solution which could be imbibed by the undead, and would send them into the afterlife swiftly and painlessly, with no chance of return from that Great Unknown.

As for scattering a tangle of spirits... What if they are tangled about a living soul? Or at least a soul that is alive as yet? Do you have any potions or oils that could free such a person from their unintentional guests, or at least strengthen their body and soul so they do not die from more traditional attempts at exorcism?"

Tomas can keep up for about five seconds of the conversation before the Arcane terms start passing over his head. He hasn't felt this stupid in a long time, and is reminded as to why he left the school in the first place. He makes a mental note to ask about Ed's curse before leaving, however.

"Remy." Tomas instead asks while Lia is Liaing all over the place, lowering his voice noticeably, "Did you talk to Sebastian? I...well, frankly, I wasn't sure if he wanted me around his office right now, and I've been worried about him."

It would seem his fears are justified. Swallowing a grimace, Mercator makes a split-second weighing of the Oath of Asclepius against the Fourth Book of Ezra's injunction against giving aid or comfort to the Legion. Sighing internally, he decides he ought to at least visit her. "If one of you would remain here?" he says, glancing at the Reniers and Katja. "If you would put two coronas on deposit, monsieur, let's away to your stall. I will make an initial examination and then we will revisit the subject of remuneration. Is that agreeable?"

Inky wrote:"And, how many spirits are within this poor mortal? Three? Seven?"

Agale pursed his lips. "Several more than that. Perhaps we are looking at this from the wrong angle. Instead of exorcising a spirit from a mortal body, we need the mortal body exorcised from the mass of spirits. I'm sure if anyone was capable of devising such a feat, it would you." he said, sliding a flirtatious wink in Inky's direction.

"And the person I kind of want to talk to.." Kerrian fidgeted. It was almost adorable, in the way that someone nervous about trying to think of the way to politely state what he was about to could be adorable. "Well, they're not so much a person as maybe death itself, but then things got complicated, and I think things are going really wrong...well, they've already gone really wrong, and I want to make this less wrong, and I'm kind of in over my head?"

That Kerrian though that massive expulsion of words could have clarified anything perhaps spoke to how worldly he wasn't.