Party 7

"Thank you," Jasper says as he accepts a cup and saucer. Tea in hand, he paces slowly around the study, pawing at books and trinkets on the shelves. "I wonder if our hosts might have a map of the area for us to see, and if they would be so kind as to let us make a copy so we may find our way."
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

Ismark nods approvingly at Clover before shaking his head. "It's not a problem, this ol' kichen is a bit too big for just me anyway." Flashing a slight smile he's out the doorway; the others can see him quickly turn a corner and head up the grand staircase at the front of the house, before coming back down with an empty bucket and heading out the door.

A little while after Ismark wanders his way back into the kitchen with a full bucket of water, placing it on the counter with a bit of a huff. "Alright, that should be enough for now," he says as he wipes his brow, before looking over to the prepared tea. "You prepared it quicker than I thought, that's quite impressive," he pipes up, scrambling around for a few spare teacups to help bring out. "You mentioned something about citrus? Unfortunately I don't think we have any fresh stuff here though I might be able to scrounge up some dried herbs or something if you really want."

In the room where they were seated Jasper finds a number of miscellaneous books and similar things, the kind of topics you'd see displayed just to show that one was educated. However they were notable in the fact that many of the subjects, mostly historical in nature, were unfamiliar. Some of the titles include:

"Migration of the Dusk Elves"
"Ways of the Wildfolk"
"Political Theory in Dismal Days"
"On the Horses of Nova Vaasa"
"Sons of Tyranny"
"A Voice fit to Rule: A History of the Meistersingers"
"The Dead Man's Campaigns, Vol 1"

Alongside that a few trinkets are presented along the walls, including a decorative longsword and what appears to be a circular holy symbol of some sort. Ismark brings whatever he could carry out of the kitchen and helps distribute them to the party. "I might have to pop back upstairs to check on Pops, but hopefully this will keep you occupied in the meantime. You mentioned something about a map? I can try to see if we have anything we can spare, though the road to Vallaki is easy to navigate at least -- as long as you stay on the main road. Just... dangerous." He looks around curiously at the group. "You won't find it too much of a bother, will you? We can probably pay a bit in advance if you need traveling supplies, or to purchase the medicine from the apothecary. I hope he hasn't raised the prices since the last time."
 
Clover pours tea for everyone and states, "Taste can be added by a cantrip if you don't mind it being illusory."

The elf then demonstrates with her own tea, "I'm fond of raspberry-lemon, if anyone would like to try?"
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Oh, you're practiced in magic?" Ismark pipes up, glancing curiously at Clover. "That's very interesting, I once knew a few people that studied back at the university but could never pick it up myself. I think Ireena might have been interested at one point actually," he notes, rubbing his chin. "I should've asked her if she'd like to come down for a chat, but I didn't want to disturb them since it seemed like Pops was trying to get to sleep."

After a moment he adds, "... Can I try whatever you're having? It's been a long time since I've had raspberry."
 
Clover nods and casts the prestidigitation cantrip at Ismark's tea adding the requested flavor, "It can add any flavor you want, but if you were adding the flavor of medicinal herbs, it wouldn't impart any of the effects - except perhaps if you were attempting to make a purgative. That said, you can also do the opposite: If, for instance, the medicine we're to retrieve for your father were exceptionally distasteful, we could make it taste of honey and mint so as to be more palatable without dulling its healing qualities. Feverfew, for instance, is good at dulling fevers as the name implies but is quite bitter."
 
Marcon looks betwen Jasper and Ismark as they discuss maps, his mouth wide open. Once Ismark's attention is firmly back to tea he hisses at Jasper. "I bought a map this morning from the shop, remember?! It wasn't cheap, either. You did pick it up, right?!"

Sighing, he slumps into a chair. "Can you do chamomile flavor?" He asks Clover. "I could at least pretend it's helping with the stress..."
 
Jasper shrugs. "Oh yeah, I'm sure it's with me here somewhere." He pats himself down, feeling for the rolled up paper before triumphantly pulling it from a breast pocket.

"I seem to be a bit absent minded today. It feels as if this morning has been dragging on for weeks." He shakes his head a bit as if to clear it. "Still, I've never heard of these places. Borca? Nova Vaasa? Hazaan?"
 
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Carrac has been sitting quietly, eyes closed to the world around him. His mind trying to trace through the familiar patterns that he learned long ago. The ones that block out pain, so that you can push beyond your limits no matter how close to death you become.

To the others he most likely appeared to be sleeping, if not for the beads of sweat on his forehead. Indicators of the hidden strain on his mind. Stretching out beyond his current senses, he tried to feel this place, where ever it was...
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Some mornings are just like that, huh?" Ismark chuckles slightly at Jasper, before tilting his head at his questions. "Well Borca is to the west, Nova Vaasa to the northeast somewhere past the mountains. Hazlan -- there's an 'L' in there -- is south somewhere. From the way you dress it doesn't seem like you folks are from these parts... which would make sense I suppose, huh?"

Looking to take a break from the conversation he turns away, taking a small sip of his own tea and looking pleasantly surprised at the flavor. "Wow, tastes just like the real thing," he notes, before looking back at Clover. "The medicine tastes like most other flowers I imagine, but I'm sure a touch of magic never hurt anyone too much. Oh right," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small folded slip of paper which he then unfolds and squints at to read.

"The apothecary person, a certain Dr. Lorenzo da Valaseno, should be making his rounds with a few bunches of Caldura Rose, a medicinal plant only grown in Borca. They say it's one of the most effective remedies especially for long term ailments -- but its potency very quickly fades if the stem is cut," he intones, as if reading directly from a script. "Because of that, we'll need you to transport a live plant back here, in the pot and all. Helps that there are multiple of you to take turns," he notes with a nod. "Sound reasonable?"

As he looks around gauging a response, he looks over curiously at Carrac who seems to be completely zoned out. He waves a hand in front of his closed eyes and, after getting no response, shrugs and steps back to the others. "I think your friend here needs a nap," he whispers, lowering his voice.

-------------------

The conversation does not reach Carrac's ears, or if it does it is blocked by the sheer concentration that he is willing himself into. Sensations dull -- the pleasant scent of the tear wafting in the air, the stale yet oddly comforting cushioning of the chair he had taken for his own, the still lingering phantom stings from the acid burning his flesh, courtesy of those insectoid abominations. None of that distracted the monk from his thoughts and his musings, searching for an epiphany in the depths of his consciousness.

It was faint, but there was an extraordinarily slight, imperceptible sense that something was... off about this place. Not Ismark's house -- it may as well be heaven sent compared to the deadly experience of the night before -- but Carrac's training to tap into the energies of the world around him, as was taught to him, touched an similar yet uncannily different atmosphere around him. It could be nothing, just a chill down the spine or a hint of deja vu... but it left Carrac doubtful, left him wondering if this land had more hidden beneath its surface than it was letting on.

After all, a freaking house tried to kill them. That wasn't normal... right?
 
"Two sugars. Uh, actually make it three, please." Marcon thought this might help calm his nerves.

Trying to sound nonchalant Marcon turned to Ismark. "You've mentioned it being dangerous outside a few times now and this house has clearly been attacked by... wolves?" He couldn't bring himself to say 'werewolves'. "Are they what we have to guard against on the road?"

"Oh and..." He found asking about money distasteful, but that was why they were here, right? "How much do you think... ah... would you be willing to pay for fetching the plant?"
 
Clover supplies slightly more sweetness to Marcon's tea, waiting for his nod of approval before sitting down to pour her own tea.
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Wolves, bandits, all sorts of things that go bump in the night," Ismark says with a hesitant shrug as he turns back to Marcon. "At least we're a bit far from the western border else you might have been dealing with refugees, or any less reputable folks coming over from there. With a group you should be relatively fine I think, especially if you have people trained in the arcane with you," he notes with a slight nod in Clover's direction.

"As for payment... well, last I heard the flowering plants sold for about ten gold wolf-fangs apiece, maybe a bit more considering how late it is in the season," he says, rubbing his chin. "We'll want at least three or four fully grown plants, maybe more if they still have more stock. I'm not certain on the financials yet but I think I could probably offer you fifteen fangs per plant delivered? Purely delivery fee of course, I'll forward you the money for paying the merchant."
 
Jasper stands and claps his hands in front of him. "Sounds great. Unless anyone has something further to ask, " and he glances back at his companions, "I think we can get out of your hair and on the road."
 
Hearing something outside, Jasper freezes. He steps quietly to the door and looks out the peephole. On the front porch stands a young man, arguing to himself about something.

Jasper turns to Ismark and mouths a question to the man, "who's that?"
 
Clover watches Jasper at the door with faint interest, more concentrating on adding vanilla and orange blossom flavors to her tea.
 
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