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* Nacheyla unlocks the door. "Hall's Open" * Jaret walks in, in deep blue jacket, breeches, and short cape. His rapier is belted at his side, and he's carrying a long slim box under one arm. "Well met, Nacheyla! A goblet of Arabellan Red, if you please." * Nacheyla pours Jaret a glass of wine. <Nacheyla> Here you are, Lord Jaret. * Temire walks in through the door. She's dressed in black leather breeches, and a loose black shirt, with an undyed cloak. She has a rapier belted to her hip. <Jaret> Thank you! ::sets the box down at his side. He raises his glass to Nacheyla:: To your health! * Zoya enters and settles herself at the bar. "Evening, Jaret, Nacheyla." <Temire> Hello Nacheyla, Jaret. ::Temire hangs her cloak by the door and heads over to the bar.:: <Nacheyla> Good evening, dear... can I get you something to drink? * Nacheyla turns to Jaret. <Jaret> Ah, Temire. Come over here, please, after you get whatever you'd like. <Nacheyla> Well, you're in cheerful spirits tonight... <Zoya> I'll have a cider, if you would. * Nacheyla pours Zoya some cider. <Zoya> Thank you. ::takes a deep drink:: How does this evening find you? * Temire spends several moments examining the taps, "Hmm...I think something sweet, but not syrupy." <Nacheyla> Very good, Priestess... my great-great grand nephew is in town... * Nacheyla looks at the taps for a while and pours Temire a glass of some dark brown liquid. She adds some milk and a bit of something cream colored. <Nacheyla> Here, try this... * Zoya pulls a piece of chalk out of her sleeve and diagrams a truncated relationship tree. "You keep track that far removed? I'm impressed." * Nacheyla smiles. * Temire sips the drink. "Thank you Nacheyla, this is wonderful." <Zoya> So what's your ...nephew doing in town? <Nacheyla> Well, yes... I have several distant relatives... I try and keep up with them, but it's not always easy. There's at least a hundred of them... * Temire takes a seat next to Jaret. "You wanted to talk to me Master Jaret." <Jaret> Yes, Temire. ::reaches down and hefts the box onto the counter between himself and Temire:: <Nacheyla> He came to study... <Jaret> I recently acquired this on my travels, and I realized that I never had given you a graduation present, in acknowledgment of the rather advanced studies you succeeded at. So, whenever you and Yohko feel that you're ready for it, this is yours. ::he gently pushes the box closer to Temire:: <Zoya> Oh? Good for you, studying. ::smiles:: What's he studying here? <Nacheyla> Psionics... * Temire looks at Jaret with some surprise, then gently opens the box. <Zoya> Ah! With Tyl'gainia's academy? * Nacheyla nods <Zoya> I'm glad to hear word is starting to spread. * Temire gets a look of reverence on her face and gently lifts a rapier out of the box. The blade flashes in the light, and the guard is made from a polished conch shell. * Temire spends several moment staring at the rapier in wonder. "Master...Master Jaret...This must have cost you a fortune." * Alranis slips through the door, and wanders to the far end of the bar. <Jaret> It's a gift, Temire. It's not prudent to ponder what the cost, if any, was. <Nacheyla> Good evening, Alranis... Weiders? * Zoya spots Alranis and nods in his direction. <Marten> ::A man of medium build, with shaven head and peppered-grey beard enters the Hall. He is wearing well-traveled pants, a work shirt and coat, and walking boots. At his side is a large knife, and he shivers to work off the cold:: * Temire gently puts the sword down then hugs Jaret, "Thank you." * Jaret returns the hug. "You're welcome. Just put it to good use." * Temire releases Jaret and blushes to the roots of her brown hair. Looking sheepishly at the floor, "I'll try." * Alranis nods. <Nacheyla> Good evening stranger... get you a drink, sir? <Jaret> It will let you breathe and fight underwater, but it works perfectly fine on the surface world. Just so you know some of its abilities. * Nacheyla looks over at Jaret. <Nacheyla> Nice piece of work, Lord Jaret... ::smiles:: * Alranis nods at Zoya. "Good even." <Temire> Thank you Jaret. ::Temire sits back down and begins examining the blade more closely.:: * Zoya smiles at Alranis. "Haven't seen you around, lately. Been busy?" * Zoya looks over the newcomer as she takes a drink of cider. * Nacheyla pours herself a mug of light brown beer. * Marten looks around slowly, then nods to Nacheyla. "Aye. An ale, if you will." The man proceeds to walk to the bar, and sit on a stool close to the door. * Alranis shrugs. "Been here and there." He grimaces. "Lots of things to do." * Nacheyla pours the stranger a mug of ale. <Nacheyla> Here you go, sir. First one's on the house... I'm Nacheyla, bartender * Temire suddenly cries out in a voice filled with fear "No..." then vanishes along with the sword Jaret gave her. * Nacheyla knocks over her beer <Nacheyla> What the hell? * Alranis blinks. <Marten> ::smiling as he takes the ale:: Thank you, milady. Most call me Marten. I'm just traveling through Marsember, on my way to Waterdeep. * Zoya narrows her eyes slightly at Marten, shrugs, and- sputters into her cider as Temire disappears. <Zoya> What the... * Jaret stands in a flash. <Jaret> Temire! * Marten jumps, and instinctively places a hand on his big knife, and uses the other to clench his ale. * Zoya pulls a small ball on a chain from under her cloak and raises one hand, pulling in magical energy. * Nacheyla pulls her sword hilt from her belt... there is no sword attached... * Jaret looks around in rapid, quick motions, circling, trying to see where Temire might've gone to. <Zoya> ::in a voice resonant with magical energy:: Jaret, what happened? <Jaret> I have no idea! I used that blade for almost a month while I was... away. Nothing like that ever happened! * Nacheyla turns slowly... where the blade of her sword would be there is a pale, glowing light * Marten drinks his ale quickly, and stands nervously, edging himself toward the door. "I... I don't want to add any fuel to the fire, so I think I will be making my way out." * Zoya begins chanting. A small, bluish shape forms just beyond her outstretched hand. When it has grown to approximately the size of a small melon, it begins poking around the room. * Jaret catches a glimpse of Marten. <Jaret> ::and freezes:: * Zoya frowns. "She was recently returned from the dead, was she not?" <Marten> ::Marten's eyes go wide with the mentioning of 'returned from the dead', and fumbles in his pocket for some gold coins:: * Nacheyla continues turning slowly, as if looking into the distance * Jaret , still in a semi-crouched ready stance, quick-steps around the room to Marten. * Marten starts fumbling more quickly as Jaret approaches, finally deciding to just drop the first coin his fingers find onto the bar. "I... I must be going, I'm sure..." * Jaret tries to get between Marten and the door. "Where... where are you going?" * Marten looks at Jaret, and then looks to the floor quickly. "I'm just getting out of the way, so you can find your friend. I don't mean to cause any trouble..." * Zoya decides, despite not getting an answer, that she has remembered correctly. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again, they are glowing eerily green. <Jaret> I don't think you need to be leaving just yet, sir. You're not causing any trouble, I assure you. Please, why don't you sit down. <Marten> ::to Jaret, shaking his head:: Nay, you seem to have more to worry about here than the hospitality of some stranger. I will return on my way back from Waterdeep... * Zoya drops her hand and the exploring blue light slowly fades. Zoya chuckles, and the green glow subsides, though it doesn't disappear altogether. "I've found her. She doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger." <Jaret> I just have one question for you, stranger. Answer it, and I will stand in your way no longer. <Marten> ::nods, and looks up at Jaret:: Of course, I will answer. Ask your question, and let me take my leave of you... * Glossaria enters the Hall, one hand emerging from a voluminous grey cloak to push the hood back from her shockingly green hair. "Merciful heavens, it's colder than stone out there!" * Jaret points, and asks in a grimly serious tone. "Where did you get Moon Dancer's klaive?" * Zoya rolls slightly glowing eyes toward the door. "Glossaria? Is that you? I require a recitation, please. Communication with beings in the ether." <Marten> ::looks confused, and shakes his head at Jaret:: Who? Whose what? I... I'm sorry, but I don't understand. If you think I stole something, I can assure you that I have only the most basic of worldly items to my name... <Glossaria> Certainly, Mistress Zoya. What class of creature do you wish to contact, and would you prefer to cast the spell yourself, or have me do it? <Zoya> Human, living. If possible, you cast the spell and anchor it to me so I may speak. * Glossaria removes her cloak quickly, hanging it on a peg by the door before crossing to Zoya's table. Her ever-present notebook emerges from somewhere under several more layers of clothing than seem quite necessary. <Jaret> I understand you are of limited possessions, so I will attempt to be clearer. The large blade you have at your side is of a type that a close friend of mine called a 'klaive.' In fact, I recognize some of the markings on it as those that my friend had on his klaive. His name is Moon Dancer. He has been some time out of my sight. I therefore ask you, where did you come by that ::points at the knife:: <Glossaria> ::nods and flips through the notebook, licking her finger and turning pages rapidly:: Just human? And alive, in the ether? Interesting....oh, here it is! ::rips half a page out of the book, checks to make sure the back is blank, and then rolls it into a small ball and pops it in her mouth, chewing slowly:: <Marten> ::looks at the blade at his side, and defensively puts his hand on it:: Surely you must be mistaken. Other than the clothes on my back, this is the only possession I have. Perhaps the blade you remember was merely similar? * Marten looks over at Glossaria, raises an eyebrow and jumps in surprise, then turns his attention back to Jaret. * Alranis gazes curiously, but noncommitally, at Marten. * Jaret looks at the blade closely, and slowly shakes his head. "I wish that it was so. But that is definitely his. That notch there, right by the hilt, was acquired when he stopped a demon's claw from striking me unawares. Please, tell me where you acquired it. If you purchased it from a secondhand seller, tell me who. If you found it, tell me where. Please." * Glossaria moves slightly closer to Zoya and touches a finger lightly to Zoya's lips. After several deep breaths, she closes her eyes and starts to recite. The words spill from her lips as glowing blue tendrils which those in the know would recognize as magic script. The wisps of light twine through the air and form a necklace about Zoya's throat. Eyes still closed, Gloss nods. * Zoya speaks, but no sound emerges into the Hall. <Zoya> ::From time to time, Zoya "speaks" again. She seems to be conversing.:: <Marten> ::looks confused, and sighs as he wanders back to the bar:: It is, as far as I know, milord, mine. It was one of the few things the monks found on me, aside from a paper or two identifying me. The rest comes from the charity of others, and the hard toil of those of us in the Holy Order. * Glossaria Glossaria keeps up a steady, low-pitched chant, a repetitive pattern of blue light continuing to drift about Zoya's neck, refreshing the runes continuously. * Jaret smiles, slightly, but his hand twitches slightly. "Well, at least now we're getting somewhere. What monks? Where is the monastery?" <Zoya> ::Seemingly involuntarily, Zoya lifts a hand in a placating, soothing manner as she speaks.:: <Marten> ::shakes his head:: I must apologize, but that is something I cannot share with men outside of our order. Let us just say that they are an ancient order, and they have taken me in as one of theirs, a lost soul in need of guidance. If you feel that I should not have this... * Marten reaches to his belt and, reluctantly, removes the knife and places it on the bar. <Jaret> I don't wish to take away from you what is yours, I just wish to find my friend. Perhaps you might know of him, since you have his klaive? His name is Moon Dancer, and he's about... your height, about... your build, and he's prone to wander about in his free time in the wilderness. * Nacheyla puts her sword back. <Nacheyla> How strange. How'd she get over there? * Zoya frowns deeply, as if extremely puzzled and more than a little irritable. <Marten> ::shakes his head:: Again, I must apologize. I know very few men outside of our order. We mostly keep to ourselves, and watch the world around us. On occasion, some of us leave the safety of the order to learn of the world around us, as I have done. <Marten> ::looks at Jaret:: Your concern for your friend is touching, though. If there is any aid I can offer you, to help you find him... <Jaret> Please, just stay here for a moment, sir. * Alranis whispers something to the mug. The mug shakes, almost as if giggling. <Marten> ::nods:: Aye, I can stay. I had planned on staying at least a day, before starting again to Waterdeep. * Zoya looks slightly less irritable, having her silent conversation with the thin air. * Jaret goes to the back of the Hall, and ascends the stairs. After a few moments of quiet, there's a crashing sound from somewhere down the hallway. * Marten looks at his ale, and then picks up a glass and walks down the bar, opposite the taps. He places his glass underneath one, and pours himself another glass of ale. * Nacheyla turns and gives Marten a strange look * Zoya reaches out blindly and grabs Gloss's sleeve. She tugs a few times to get her attention, then pulls a pencil out of her own sleeve and mimes writing. * Jaret comes downstairs, carrying a piece of parchment in one hand. He puts it on the bartop in front of Marten. "This is Moon Dancer" The picture is a charcoal sketch of MD, of delicate detail. There is an elegant swirling signature in one of the corners that is not in the common language. * Glossaria quickly proffers her pad and pen to Zoya. * Lisl enters, cheeks pink with the cold, the scent of the deep forest in her clothing. A brace of rabbits is tucked into her belt. <Marten> ::looks at the sketch of MD, and frowns:: Well, it does seem familiar... But, no. I don't think I've met this man in my travels. ::turns to Jaret:: I'm terribly sorry, milord... <Nacheyla> Ah... good evening Lisl... we're having a bit o' excitement today. Temire's managed to get herself stuck in the ether... * Zoya takes the pad and writes swiftly. Years of practice scribbling notes while her mind is several steps further along keep it mostly readable. "Temire in ether - has been slipping in and out. Frightened but unharmed. Not anchored in Prime correctly, or some sort of curse. Need to study - set up Lab of Mirrors when we get back to the Tower. * Jaret picks up the klaive from the bar, shines the flat of it quickly, and lays it back down on the counter, next to the sketch. "Please, look." <Marten> ::to Jaret, confused:: The knife? Yes, I understand that you believe it was his, and if you are adamant, again you can have it. It is a possession, but no possession means so much to me that I cannot live without it. <Lisl> She wha-- ::stops in mid-sentence, with a sniff:: MOON DANCER? What in the gods' names did you do to your hair, pup? <Marten> ::looks at Lisl, frightened:: I'm sorry? <Jaret> The *reflection*. Look at the *reflection*, please. * Alranis 's smile is only halfway hid by his huddling near his mug. <Glossaria> ::scans the tablet swiftly, and nods:: Ah, I understand! Temire isn't fully...here, then? <Marten> ::turns back to Jaret, completely unnerved:: No! I will not indulge in such vanity. It is foolhardy and unnecessary... * Zoya nods in response to Gloss's comment, then scrawls, "Do you have notes on moving physicals out from the plane of ether? I don't want to cross over again if I can help it." <Jaret> Vanity? You can't look in a mirror? Hmm.... I suppose this Holy Order of yours is a pacifistic one as well, yes? <Lisl> ::strides across the room with a smile, tossing the rabbits on the bar as an afterthought before wrapping up Marten in a bear-hug of Lisl proportions:: It's been so long since we've *seen* you, old friend! * Nacheyla blinks a few times, then shrugs and looks over at Zoya... * Marten eyes widen in surprise and shock, shaking his head. "Milady! Unhand me, please! In the name of all that is Holy, set me down!" <Nacheyla> Do you need some help? I can recover things from the ether... <Marten> ::starts to collect himself, and looks apologetically at Jaret:: I meant, yes. Members of our Order do not indulge in such worldly concerns as vanity and possessions. And yes, pacifistic is a word. We prefer removed from the concerns of warring nations and peoples. <Marten> [well, make THAT come after THIS] * Zoya scrawls on the notepad, "Nacheyla - hoping Temire comes back on her own, but if not soon, then may need help. Can you bring living things across safely?" <Nacheyla> Yes... it's an ability of the sword... <Glossaria> ::frowns in thought, and says doubtfully:: I have a spell, but it would be messy, and require something of hers as an anchor. ::smiles at Nacheyla:: It would be wonderful if you could do it. My spell is fairly...umm...old. And rather damaged. ::smiles a bit apologetically:: * Jaret steps a couple paces away and asks over his shoulder, "Do you ever get angry anyways?" <Zoya> ::writing:: Would rather see her roll back over on her own so I can watch magic, but may be necessary. On my word. <Lisl> ::drawing back in surprise:: "Milady"? ::looking to Jaret in confusion:: 'Dancer, what's wrong with you? You can't not know me...can you? * Nacheyla pulls her sword out again... she stared at it. The glowy bit turns a to a dull gray shimmer. * Marten catches his breath, and looks at Lisl cautiously. "I'm sorry, but I think you have mistaken me for someone else. This... Moon Dancer you mention. The one who you say owns this knife, is it?" <Lisl> ::her eyes narrow...under the lashes, there's a distinct gleam of yellow:: Trust me, I *cannot* be mistaken. Something must have taken your memory...who did this to you? <Zoya> [Gee, Lisl, I can't seem to remember... ;) ] <Lisl> [:P] * Glossaria watches Nacheyla, ready to assist if needed. <Marten> ::shakes his head at Lisl:: I'm sorry, milady. I am not who you think I am. I am just traveling to Waterdeep, and stopped in for a meal and drink before continuing on... * Jaret fiddles with something at his side. * Jaret draws his sword, turns, and points the blade at Marten. "I *said*, even though your Order is pacifistic, do you ever get angry anyways." His tone is decidedly terse. * Nacheyla swings her sword, slowly, gracefully. As she does so, a "cut" appears in the air. A cold rush of air pours into the Hall... beyond the cut, a pale orange sky can be seen. <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: Unless you put on Moon Dancer's body to do your walking about, you *are* Moon Dancer. And if you remembered who you were, you'd know why. Jaret...what are you up to? <Zoya> ::scribbles furiously:: Nach - not yet! Think I've got an idea! * Marten stands, and deftly swipes the klaive from the bar, unsheathing it and holding it at the ready in one fluid motion. "Milord, we may be a peaceful order, but we can defend ourselves if need be..." * Jaret grins fiercely at Lisl "Moon Dancer, for all his charms, was never the best conversationalist. Sometimes he thought better with a blade in his hand." * Nacheyla holds the cut at about seven inches long. * Jaret leads off with a quick feint, gauging Marten's reflexes. * Alranis whispers something to his mug. <Lisl> He even stands the same...there's no mistake. Watch yourself, Jaret. * Marten dances slightly to the side, placing his back to the open Hall and facing both Jaret and Lisl. "Milord, this need not turn to bloodshed..." <Glossaria> ::looking at the cut doubtfully:: How will she know how to find that? It seems so small... * Nacheyla is sweating from effort * Marten shifts the klaive from his left hand to his right, slightly shaking his head. "Milord, I urge you to end this now. For both our sakes..." <Nacheyla> Zoya asked me to hold off... but once I start, I have to hold it open... so... I either hold it, or we can't do this again til tomorrow. <Jaret> Hopefully it won't. Let's begin. ::me quickly darts out, pinpoint thrusts aimed to graze Marten's right arm and leg:: * Marten dodges Jaret's blows as best he can, but takes a scrape along the outer side of his right thigh. Wincing, Marten swings with the flat side of the blade, from right to left, then quickly follows with a crouching leg sweep. <Zoya> ::writes in what seems to be the same rhythm as her speech, slow and cadenced.:: "Soon, Nach, one way or the other. Sorry misunderstanding." * Nacheyla nods... sweat drips off her forehead. The little yellow star flits into the cut, then back out again <Lisl> Jaret, if he's been trained in self-defense, this will accomplish nothing...::dodging out of the way of the broad-aimed leg sweep:: * Jaret parries the sweep, but catches the leg sweep in the back of his heels. He rolls back onto his feet, and grins. "Nice! You've never done that one before." * Marten drops into a quick roll, butt of Marten's hand thrusting toward Jaret's midsection. * Nacheyla looks over at Jaret and M-whoever he is... with a small effort, she reaches over to the bar and touches a small blue panel. All the furniture in the Hall is suddenly surrounded by a glowing nimbus. * Temire materializes in the Hall right between Marten and Jaret, catching Marten's hand in her face. <Glossaria> [LAUGH] <Marten> [Whoops.] * Alranis smiles at his mug. <Nacheyla> [furniture protection... :)] * Jaret pivots to receive MD's thrust with the basket hilt of his rapier, but instead adjusts to slam the guard into Marten's nose. <Temire> OW! ::Temire rolls and swings from the floor at Marten, trying to cut his belly open.:: * Nacheyla heaves a sigh and drops the cut... * Zoya closes her eyes in relief as Temire slips back through into the correct world. When she opens them again, all traces of the green glow in her eyes is gone. <Jaret> Temire! Leave him to me! <Lisl> Temire, no! <Zoya> ::tries to shout at Temire not to hurt anyone, but her voice is still channeled to the Ether.:: <Nacheyla> ::the glowing furniture moves around the fighters, as small children will do in a schoolyard brawl:: * Glossaria stills the chanting that has been a quiet background to the recovery, the blue sigils fading from around Zoya's neck. * Zoya gestures at Glossaria to let the communication spell drop, then smiles wryly at Nach to indicate that she can let the cut fall closed again. * Alranis glances sidelong at the mug, then makes as if to rise. Reconsidering, he settles back to watch. * Marten takes Jaret's shot in the nose, knocking him off-guard enough to allow Temire's blow to his midsection through. Painfully, Marten clutches his stomach and falls to the floor, bleeding... * Temire looks at everyone with a start, her guard down. * Nacheyla reaches over, peers into her mug, which is empty... she refills it and drinks deeply. <Lisl> Hold! That's enough. ::kneeling beside Marten to examine the cut, bracing a hand against his breastbone:: * Alranis raises his eyebrow, cocks his head at Marten for a moment, then looks expectantly at Zoya. <Nacheyla> Well... ::looks over at the fighters:: * Zoya reaches for her cider and takes a draught. When she finishes, the blue sigils have completely faded from her throat, and she clears it. She looks at Alranis. "What is happening? I've been... concentrating elsewhere." <Nacheyla> I haven't got a clue... I was thinking of other things... I've got the furniture shield up... * Temire drops her sword and puts her face in her hands and starts crying. <Alranis> A fight. Got a little out of hand. <Nacheyla> I don't know why they started slugging it out. The last time I was paying attention, Lisl was hugging that bleeding fellow * Marten clenches his eyes tightly closed. "It did not have to come to this..." * Jaret drops his sword and rushes to Marten's side. "Dammit, Moon Dancer, get angry with me already!" <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow at Alranis:: And you want me to...? * Alranis grins. "You figure it out." * Zoya sighs, and mutters under her breath, "Erdian help me." * Marten hisses, through clenched teeth, "I am ... not ... who you think... I am." Marten then winces and falls unconscious. <Nacheyla> ::looks at Zoya:: Is that safe? Asking for Erdian's help? I've been reading about him recently in the Records <Lisl> HELLS. * Jaret looks at Lisl. "We've got to get him to a cleric." <Nacheyla> Um... all right now, Jaret... why did you pick a fight with this man? And what are you going to do about it? * Zoya sighs again and turns to examine the scene before her, eyes widening as she realizes who Marten is - or at least resembles. * Nacheyla presses the blue tile on the bartop again. The furniture sighs, returns to their original places, and stop glowing * Jaret screams at Nacheyla. "This is Moon Dancer! He's lost his memory, and I was trying to get him to... remember. <Lisl> ::raises an eyebrow at him:: Why? We have at least...::scans the room:: two healers resident. ::looking up at Zoya:: Yes, it IS Moon Dancer. It's his blood, his smell, everything. ::sounding bitter:: Everything but his mind, or his soul. <Zoya> ::to Nach:: Erdian's help is extremely useful, when he chooses to give it, if not precisely safe. The rest of the time - it is no less safe than petitioning any other god. <Nacheyla> <shakes her head> Somehow, Lord Jaret... <Lisl> Zoya, please...would you heal him before any worse happens? He's already lost consciousness. * Nacheyla pulls out a small book from behind the bar. <Nacheyla> I though he was... if he's Moon Dancer... <Lisl> ::one side of her mouth twitching up in a half-grin:: I'm sure Erdian wouldn't refuse an old friend.... <Zoya> ::sighs:: I'll see what I can do. Erdian's strength is not in the healing arts. ::carefully rolls Marten back to reveal his wound, and begins examining his wounds, with both normal and mage-sight:: * Nacheyla pours a goblet of wine, adds something to it and hands it to Jaret. <Nacheyla> Here... * Jaret slowly starts to pour the wine, in very small amounts, into Marten's mouth. <Nacheyla> It should ease any pain he might have, when he comes to... <Zoya> ::somewhat distractedly:: Erdian? He'd refuse nothing to a friend. But healing was never his strength. ::begins a quiet chant, then starts as the chairs in the room begin to echo a quiet bass undernote:: <Nacheyla> You might think of drinking some yourself... it's also a calmative... * Jaret glares. "I'll do without, thank you." * Temire continues to sob. <Lisl> ::looking up, as she presses a hand to the wound to stanch the bleeding:: Temire, calm down. You didn't do anything wrong. <Zoya> ::The tables begin to vibrate very slightly, and glow the palest of pale purples. Suddenly, the glow winks out and there is an instant of silence, and the worst of Marten's wounds begin to knit themselves together:: * Jaret gets up and goes to Temire. "Temire, you did what seemed right when you had a split second to decide. I would have done the same thing in your place." * Nacheyla gives Jaret a long, steady glance, then rolls her eyes... * Zoya gasps with the effort, and looks around the room. <Temire> But...He's your friend and I almost killed him... <Zoya> ::still distracted:: You acted as you'd been taught, Temire, defending yourself in an unknown situation. Besides, I think perhaps... He seeks it, on some level. <Lisl> ::lets out a sigh:: It's working. ::leaning over Marten, slapping his cheeks lightly. Her eyes, as she stares down into his face, are bright yellow:: Moon Dancer. Moon Dancer, wake up. You're alright. * Marten half-opens his eyes, and looks at Zoya. "Am I dead?" <Zoya> ::looks down at Marten:: Do you want to be? * Jaret looks over at Marten, and looks somewhat relieved that things are pulling themselves together. "Did you know it was my friend when you attacked? Or did you simply know that you had been struck, and if you didn't defend yourself, you might be killed?" <Nacheyla> ::the yellow star bounces around M-whoever he is, making some humming noises:: <Marten> ::looks at Zoya:: Not yet, milady. I have ... miles to go before I rest... * Zoya chuckles. "Good. You're still in bad shape, though. Do you object if I continue to assist?" <Temire> I knew I had been struck, and I knew you had your sword out, and I thought the two of you were fighting... * Alranis mutters something to his mug as he relaxes on his barstool. * Jaret gets a sour look on his face. "We were. I thought if I could get Moon Dancer to... become himself, he would regain his memory. More subtle and peaceful techniques weren't working." <Lisl> ::raising an eyebrow as she glances up at Jaret:: You called that subtle? <Jaret> Showing him pictures of Moon Dancer, asking about his klaive, the only personal item Moon Dancer really had? It was more subtle than, say, a bear hug. * Temire starts taking deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm herself, "I've heard Mistress Michelle talk about Moon Dancer. Why wouldn't he remember who he is though?" <Jaret> We have no idea, Temire. <Lisl> Like I was expecting my oldest friend not to remember my very existence? Or his, for that matter? <Jaret> I'm just pointing out that I'd tried reasonably subtle. I didn't want to let him just walk out of here and on the road to Waterdeep without trying everything I could think of to get him back. <Lisl> ::looking down at Marten, eyes still a troubled yellow:: What is it that you're calling yourself? I seem to have missed part of this conversation. ::looking at his clothing:: You're a...monk? <Glossaria> ::moving over to the bar:: Mistress Nacheyla, might I have a glass of water, please? * Temire tilts her head to one side, "Did you try getting him drunk. I seem to remember Mistress Michelle saying that Moon Dancer was the only person besides Lisl that she knew of who could actually drink Mule Kick." * Nacheyla pours a glass of water... * Marten turns his head slowly towards Lisl's voice, keeping his eyes closed, wincing as he turns his head. "Marten Tenbones. A monk suffices, milady. <Glossaria> Thank you. ::coughing lightly and taking a sip:: * Zoya wraps the remaining wounds with a bandage. <Jaret> Ah, I think Moon Dancer cheated a little, when it came to the mulekick. Just giving it to him now wouldn't be the best thing. <Zoya> I suggest, sir, that you not do anything strenuous - such as travel - until that is better healed. <Lisl> ::grimacing:: Wouldn't be the best for me either, for the nonce. But even as I am, I heal better than...wait a moment....Alranis? * Temire picks up her sword and pulls herself up onto a stool. <Marten> ::nods:: I would ... assume as much. I ... I will need room and board, if it's available... <Nacheyla> Um... why don't you stay here tonight, on Master Jaret's tab, of course, so you can rest? <Jaret> I'll pay for whatever room and board you'd like. It's the least I can do, while you're in Marsember. * Temire looks around, finds her forgotten drink, and downs it rapidly. <Lisl> ::snorting:: For that matter, if he is who *we* think he is, he owns the damned Hall. <Alranis> Uh.. what? <Marten> ::nods:: Aye, milord. I will find a way to repay your kindness. * Nacheyla rolls her eyes again... * Jaret gets a quirky smile. "I can think of one such way, but I think it would only lead to more arguments like the one we've been having." <Lisl> Do you happen to have anything like a silver knife on you at the moment? Or you, Nacheyla? <Zoya> ::motions to Lisl and has a quiet word with her off to one side:: <Nacheyla> Why, yes Lisl dear... I always have silver on my person... * Alranis hunts around for a second. "Uh, yeah." * Temire thinks for a few moments, "If it's a memory problem, maybe Tyl'gainia can help." <Zoya> ::quietly, to Lisl:: It may be best to leave this rest, for the nonce. Sealgair came back, did he not, and restoring his memory killed him. And this might... May be, in fact, a... *version* of 'Dancer, but from another reality. Do you understand? He could be... Not quite the same. <Jaret> Temire, just to fill you in, he says he's part of a holy order, and he won't look in a mirror and won't let a woman touch him. I don't think we can assume that he'll let Tyl... attempt to uncover memories. <Lisl> Either would be fine. ::looking down at Marten:: I assure you, I do not intend to harm you. ::looking back up at Nacheyla, who's prolly closer:: Could you hand-- ::looks chagrined:: um...could you touch the flat of the blade to...Mr. Tenbones's's skin, here? * Temire looks on curiously. * Nacheyla pulls her blade out and lays it on the bar... <Nacheyla> If you want to prove a point, he can pick it up. I'll not be responsible for another injury, if he is who you say... <Lisl> ::nods, and picks the knife off the counter, grimacing slightly as she places it on the floor near Marten's hand:: Master Marten, please, would you humor me and pick up the blade? <Marten> ::halfway opens his eyes, and looks at the blade on the floor:: Aye, I can do that, even though I don't understand your theatrics. ::he picks up the blade, then uses his other hand to prop himself up as he rises to a wobbly stance:: Here, satisfied, milady? ::he places the knife back on the bar:: * Marten sits slowly, tenderly on a barstool. "May I have a glass of water, barkeep?" * Nacheyla puts her blade away * Nacheyla pours Marten some water... <Nacheyla> Here, sir * Marten takes the glass, and slowly sips the water. <Marten> ::turns to Jaret:: Now, sir. I don't believe I caught your name, before you decided to try to run me through. <Lisl> ::watches Marten closely as he picks up the knife, and looks at his hand as he returns it:: But you...::the look on Lisl's face is, frankly, stunned:: ...you're not burned? * Zoya sinks tiredly into a chair at a table. "Our theatrics, sir, have a simple cause: We have some... reason to believe that you are, in fact, our missing friend." ::watching VERY closely for reactions of any sort - mundane or magical:: <Marten> ::looks at Lisl:: Burned? Nay, not a bit. Should I be? Is this a magical blade? <Zoya> The peculiar things done have been... tests, of a sort, to see if we could find even the ghost of our friend in you. <Jaret> My apologies, sir. I am Jaret Malkier, swordsman. ::bows, and retrieves his sword from the floor in the same motion:: * Glossaria sips her water. <Marten> ::looks at Zoya, regretfully:: Aye, I've picked that up, from Milord Malkier here. I've never heard of the man you speak of. * Temire remembers herself, pulls out a rag, and begins cleaning the blood off her sword. <Zoya> ::nods:: I know. But that is often the case, with amnesia. <Jaret> You look exactly like him. You move exactly like him. You carry his items. And you... why do you call my 'milord'? <Marten> ::raises an eyebrow:: Amnesia? The forgetting? <Zoya> Yes. <Lisl> But...but...::looks from Marten to the blade and back several times, gaping like a fish:: Zoya, it *is* him. His scent, his blood, everything. I swear, before Aerdrie and all the gods you can name! * Temire finishes cleaning her blade and curtsies to Marten, "I'm Temire. I'm sorry for wounding you." Temire puts her sword back in its box and closes the box. <Marten> ::looks at Jaret:: Respect, milord. Respect and faoilte, milord. A simple matter of friendship... <Zoya> I know, Lisl. I believe you. But *some*thing is not as it seems here. The question to be discovered is, "what"? <Lisl> ::jaw closing with a click:: Faoilte???? * Jaret snaps his fingers and points. "Faoilte! No one on Faerun uses that word, except those who knew Cean Sealgair!" <Marten> ::nods:: Aye. Faoilte. Friendship. Kinsmanship... * Alranis looks puzzled. "What's wrong with Cead Mille Faoilte?" <Jaret> Faoilte, m'chara. <Marten> ::looks puzzled:: No one uses that word? Odd. I know I've heard it more than once during my travels. Why, I'm sure that I heard it when I was in... ::gets quiet, thinking:: <Lisl> ::head snapping up and turning to Alranis:: Gods above, not you, too! * Temire looks from one person to the other, resigning herself to not understand what's going on. * Alranis smiles a little raggedly. "Uh, it's the name of a band I once heard." <Lisl> ::snorts:: That won't cut it, my friend. <Jaret> Where? Marsember? Perhaps the time you, Lion and I went to Arabel to get a new stock of Arabellan Red for the cellars? <Marten> ::looks at Jaret, and blinks:: No, I don't think I've been to Arabel yet, though I've meant to... <Jaret> Moon Dancer, Lion and I went one summer. 'Twas a fine trip. <Marten> ::nods:: I can imagine. I hear they have an excellent silk trade coming into Arabel from the Eastern lands, too. <Jaret> I bet you like peach pies, too. Goody Beatrice makes the best in the whole city area. Moon Dancer once ate a whole pie by himself. <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: This is impossible...this can't.... <Zoya> ::sighs:: Sir, forgive me for asking, but would you allow me to make a healer's foray into your mind? For... To make sure? <Marten> ::nods:: Aye, Brother Altrucius made an excellent peach pie. Shepherd's pie, too. <Lisl> Wait...one moment, Zoya, let me ask one last thing.... <Marten> ::looks at Zoya:: Into... my mind? How would this be done, exactly? <Marten> ::turns to Lisl, and looks at her:: Milady? <Jaret> Of course, you've probably never been married. Moon Dancer sort of got married once, to a charming, delightful, quiet, meek elven woman named Yb. * Glossaria sips her water absently, scribbling furiously in her book:: <Jaret> [go for the contrast to knock him outta the stupor] <Marten> [ROFL!] <Zoya> ::waves at Lisl to ask her question first:: <Nacheyla> Moon Dancer married YB?? ::pulls out her book:: It doesn't say anything about that in here... * Temire looks at Jaret like he just slapped her. <Lisl> Look me in the eyes, and tell me truthfully that you don't know me. ::stepping over to stand in front of his stool, face-to-face. She blinks, and her eyes are wolf-yellow. <Marten> ::shakes his head, while still looking at Lisl:: Nay, I have not, and probably will never take a bride. It is not something we concern ourselves with. Marriage is, at best, an exercise in vanity... * Nacheyla makes a face... <Nacheyla> Marriage? An exercise in vanity? Hmph. * Nacheyla sits down behind the bar and pours herself another mug of beer <Nacheyla> ::the yellow star jumps up and down excitably:: Will you stop that? :: she swats at it :: <Marten> ::looks at Lisl, exhausted:: Milady, if you have a question, please ask it. It has been a long night, and I would like someone to show me to a room so I can sleep... and heal a bit, as well. <Marten> ::to Jaret:: If you would leave instructions on how to contact you, Milord Malkier, I will arrange payment for my stay here... <Marten> ::turns back to stare at Lisl, waiting:: <Jaret> No, I insist. It is the least I can do for discomfiting you so. <Lisl> All I want is for you to look me in the eye and tell me you honestly don't know me. <Marten> ::shakes his head:: We will discuss it later, Milord. * Zoya nods. "Another time, we'll speak of this mental mapping. You must heal, of course." <Marten> ::to Lisl, staring her in the eye:: I am terribly sorry, but outside of a few moments ago, I would not have known you better than any other citizen of Marsember. I am sorry... <Jaret> Very well. ::places a small stack of gold and platinum coins in the counter:: For our friend's lodging, board, and anything else he might need. If that runs out, send me a courier, and I'll send more funds post haste." <Marten> ::looks at the pile of coins, and blushes:: Milord, I couldn't spend that in a year, if I tried... * Nacheyla scoops up the coins and drops them into the lockbox <Nacheyla> ::gives Marten a quick look:: Don't worry. He can spare it... <Marten> ::turns to Nacheyla, and tries to smile:: And now, milady, if you could show me to a room... * Nacheyla nods... "Upstairs... would you like breakfast in the morning? The lert cooks lovely omelettes" <Lisl> ::nodding, satisfied:: Thank you, Master Marten. You've told me what I wanted to know. <Marten> ::nods:: A late breakfast, if you can. I don't expect to be waking early... <Nacheyla> I'll leave instructions in the kitchen... * Temire looks around, "Zoya, Lisl, who should I go home with?" <Lisl> ::looking somewhat less miffed than she did a bit ago:: And forgive my discourtesy...my name's Lisl Ferinsdottir. Feel free to call me Lisl. <Zoya> ::fixes Temire with a look:: Do you think you can do that trick with the mirror on your own? <Marten> ::nods:: Milady Ferinsdottir, a pleasure. * Temire shakes her head, "I don't know." <Lisl> ::grinning, her eyes reverting to normal:: Not half as much as it is mine. <Zoya> Then I'd rather you come with me, so we can begin to understand what causes this peculiar behavior. <Marten> ::stands, and walks to Temire. He places his hand on her shoulder:: Milady, I would have done the same, if our roles were reversed. <Nacheyla> All right, patrons... shoo... go home... it's late and Master Marten needs his sleep... ::flaps her hands as if trying to shoo chickens:: <Glossaria> Mistress Temire, you really should come back with us. ::glancing at Zoya:: There are a few more things I can look up, in the Library... * Temire looks down at the floor, "Thank you." <Marten> ::looks over the collection of rogues:: Then, on that note, good night to you all. ::begins to walk upstairs:: * Jaret turns and wordlessly leaves the Hall once the stranger is heading up the stairs. * Temire picks up her box, then heads to the door. <Zoya> ::nods to Marten:: I am Zoya, a mage of Chaos and a priestess of Erdian. Do send for me if your wounds trouble you - anyone in Marsember knows how to find my Tower. <Lisl> Go ahead, Temire, I'll let Michelle know you'll not be home. * Temire pulls down her cloak and puts it on. * Lisl settles her wolfskin more comfortably around her neck and makes for the door. <Zoya> ::nods to Lisl:: Thank you, Lisl. Come on, Temire. ::grins:: Try not to roll over again tonight. I'm tired. * Glossaria snags her cloak from its peg, secreting her notebook somewhere in its folds and following Zoya to the door. * Temire follows Zoya out the door. * Nacheyla looks around. "How strange... I didn't see Alranis leave..." Locks the door and puts out the lights. |
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