This Wretched Heat

The Fernwood, afternoon

The height of Aestry in Alexandros means summer. Summer means high temperatures. A light rainstorm earlier this morning lasted just long enough to wash the dust out of the air, but also covered the land in a thick, oppressive blanket of humidity. Most of Alexandria's citizens are indoors to beat the heat however they can.

Old Dirk Stormgrip is no exception. He's seated at the bar upon one of the dwarf-height stools, propped up with his elbows on the bartop. His broad shoulders are slumped in exhaustion and his shaggy white head is bowed. One hand grips a tankard, while the other holds his pipe. He lets loose a quiet sigh around a gust of sweet cherry pipe smoke, before tipping back his mug to drain the contents. "Oy, barkeep, gives us another, aye?" he asks wearily, pushing his mug over to be refilled. He glances up and around at the Fernwood, quietly pulling at his pipe as he looks to see if anyone else is just as miserable as he is.

Even those mortals lucky enough to enjoy some kind of resilience in the face of the summer heat are feeling it. And sometimes, you don't need the sun to get hot under the collar. The door of the Fernwood bangs open, and Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon stalks inside, his expression like a thundercloud. He seems to realize the look on his face could terrify someone, and with a visible effort, he regains his composure, pasting on a small smile before adjusting his cream-colored light cotton tunic, over lightweight breeches and soft leather shoes. His starry eyes flash as they fall upon Dirk, and he gives the old dwarf a grin.

Ambling over, he claps a hand on Dirk's shoulder, before taking a seat. "One thing after another, huh Dirk?" he says a with a bit of levity, albeit forced. He sits down at the bar next to Dirk, "A glass of the house cider, please," he requests of the bartender, before turning to Dirk. "Long day?"

Indeed, nearly everyone seems to be just as affected by the heat as Dirk is. Dripping with sweat, Dolan isn't all that far behind Telamon, and takes similar actions, catching the door behind Telamon and reopening it with a jerk of his arm. "That sounds like a damned good idea," he tells the bartender from behind the pair. "Tel, brightest of days. You look like you're about to kill something. What's up?"

He, too, is dressed in lighter gear, sleeves rolled up on a light shirt and dusty brown trousers tucked into boots. "Brightest of days to you too, Dirk. I'll take one of those house ciders myself," he adds to the bartender, walking over to Dirk's other side and putting the both of them on his left.

Dirk is also dressed lightly, wearing only shirtsleeves with the collar left unlaced, his blue waistcoat left unbuttoned, and trousers with his buckled black shoes and stockings. Given his red face and the glaze of sweat dripping off him, he might even be tempted to wear even less than that. But that would be -horribly- indecent of him.

His head perks up at Telamon's arrival, and his weary expression brightens to a warm smile. He straightens in his seat, reaching out to return the shoulder-clap. "Telamon, laddie, so good tae see ye!" he says, managing a low chuckle. "Aye, long enough, I'll warrant. Managed tae make it two hours in the marketplace afore I decided this bloody heat can fuck -right- off. So I found a nice, cool stable fer Thistle an' scurried here. Thought maybe a couple pints might help cool me down."

As Dolan enters, the old snowbeard offers the Corona a smile and a wave over his head. "Brightest days to ye, Dolan. Come an' have a drink!" He glances over at the bartender. "Put those ciders on my tab, if ye'd be so good." He looks back to his friends, turning in his stool so he can face them both, leaning one elbow up on the bartop. "Well, aside from this wretched heat, how've the pair of ye been keepin'? I hope Cor'lana and Andalena both thrive."

Telamon chuckles softly. "Lana sends her affection, of course. She's fine. I had some business today, but had to stop in here to... well, cool off. Not from the heat." He rubs his chin, as the ciders arrive, as well as Dirk's next round. "Here, let me do this..." He grasps each tankard, one at a time, chilling them down. "Always better cold," he advises with a grin.

Leaning past Dirk a bit, he smiles at Dolan. "Her light on your way, Dolan. Never thought I'd be wishing for winter this soon. And for one fellow to freeze solid in it." His smile turns down into a sour expression. "Otho Redwater, a vintner and winemaker with delusions of grandeur, is trying to palm off some recent unpleasantness on me and I'm not having it. Little bastard is being sued civilly and he's trying to claim it's my fault for not selling him a book."

"Andie's - well, she's off in Am'shere on a Guild job." Dolan reaches for the chilled tankard, with a grateful grin at Telamon, a hint of worry in his tone. "Thanks, Tel. You're a blessing, no mistake." Instead of immediately drinking, though, he puts the chilled tankard against one side of his sweaty neck for a minute. "Ahhh." So bad is the heat, in fact, that he has eschewed the brace that usually holds his shoulder together, and the armor, opting for only the longsword at his hip.

"He what? You want help finding this bastard?" Dolan's response is immediate. "What did he do?"

Dirk's shaggy white brows arch as Telamon chills off their drinks for them, and he rumbles a deep chuckle. "Och, now -there's- a handy trick, innit? Damn, why couldn't Dana or Gilead let me do -that- one?" He picks up his mug, hefting it towards his friends. "Here's fer yer health, lads," he says, before tipping back a swallow. He lets loose a contented sigh, nodding his head. "Aye, that's -loads- better." Dolan gets a sympathetic wince. "Och, all the way tae Am'shere in -this- heat? Poor lass. Hope she dinnae cook in that armor o' hers."

He looks to Telamon, pulling quietly at his pipe as he listens to his friend's legal woes. His brows furrow, and he grunts softly. "Hrmph. Sounds like a right winner, that one," he grumbles. "An' he's pissed at ye fer nae sellin' 'im a -book-? An' he's takin' ye tae -court- over it?" He looks over at Dolan and nods firmly. "Aye, laddie. Just say the word an' we'll track this shitbird down fer ye. Ye want us tae beat 'is arse fer ye while we're on it?"

Telamon picks up his own tankard, fingers gripping the now-cool surface. "Oh, I know where he is, but that's not the problem. I already had to talk Lana out of chasing him down and turning him into a vegetable." He can't help but smile at the thought.

"I do some brewing of magically-infused wines and spirits, using a book I came across. I've been translating it slowly and taking my time -- it's really more of a hobby than anything else. But Redwater heard about it, and offered to buy the book from me. I said no."

Tel rolls his eyes. "So then Redwater decides to try and go it alone, but while he -is- a good winemaker, he's a mediocre wizard. As near as I was able to tell, he managed to summon water elementals into filled winecasks -- and then the elementals got out. Caused a bit of a mess. Fortunately he'd hired an adventuring team for security and they were able to banish the elementals, but now Redwater's being sued." Tel takes a drink from his tankard. "It's not really a criminal matter, unfortunately, because there's no law against conjuring elementals and it occurred outside of the city proper. But there were several nobles in attendance and they're all mightily pissed at Redwater."

Dolan, too, grins suddenly when Telamon mentions Lana turning someone into a vegetable. "She'd do it, too. I wouldn't mess with Lana." The grin melts away, though, as he listens to the rest. "That so?" he asks, climbing up onto the stool next to Dirk and setting his tankard on the bar top. "And he wants to blame you because he did something damned stupid because you told him you're not selling the book? Nah, Tel. That's bullshit. He's responsible for his own actions."

Dirk draws a steady pull from his pipe, puffing a couple lazy smoke rings into the air. He can't help but chortle at Telamon's description of possible garden variety magical shenanigans. "Hell, he'd be lucky if he were -just- eggplanted or cucumbered," he says. "I seen how fearsome Lana can get." He takes his pipe from his mouth so he can tip back another swallow of his beer. "Well, serves the dozy cunt right, says I," he grumbles. "That's what lazy work ethic gets ye. A batch o' spoilt wine an' a yard full of unruly water beasties. I'm just glad nobody was hurt." He points with his pipe stem at Dolan, nodding firmly. "True talk, laddie," he says, looking back to Telamon. "So we're nae needin' tae strap up on this Redwater lad? Are you an' Lana goin' tae be all right if we just let the courts handle this'un?"

"I know it's bullshit. Hells, even the nobles involved know it's bullshit." Telamon offers Dirk and Dolan a grin. "You know who was at that wine tasting? Lord Mikhail Hazelyard -- he'd mentioned meeting you two. He gave me the name of a good solicitor-advocate, and I'll be turning in a statement tomorrow." He rubs his chin. "Which is good, because soon I'll be taking a trip. Not a Guild job. Sir Seldan has asked me for assistance in a private matter."

Tel takes a long pull off his cider. "It's just an irritating distraction. Part of me wants to fly over to the Redwater Estate and drag Otho out by his ankles, but... tempting as it is, it'd cause new problems. No, we'll play this by the book for now." His expression becomes quizzical. "To be honest, I didn't think you could summon water elementals into wine. If the man wasn't such an ass I'd be happy to trade secrets with him."

"Sure you can, if it's shit wine." Dolan shakes his head, taking another long pull of his cider and resting his bare arm on the bar top. "Yes, I met Lord Hazelyard. Good man. Glad you've got someone to help you out. Jurisprudence ain't my thing." He tilts his head at the mention of a private matter, but decides not to ask, instead looking over at Dirk. "You ever manage to find anything of Rida?"

Dirk perks a bit at the mention of Lord Hazelyard, and he nods his head. "Aye, we helped 'im out a wee bit back," he says. "His golem manservant was kidnapped by some wicked wizard, along wi' a whole other bunch o' golems. Thank the gods we were able tae get 'em all out o' there. But aye, Lord Hazelyard's a good sort. Lovely family." He tips back the last of his beer, rumbling a belch that ruffles his whiskers. He looks back to Dolan, shaking his head. "I've been askin' about, here an' there, as it might be," he says. "But there's been little word out o' Charn. At least, nae word worth repeatin' in pleasant company. Although there -was- one o' the merchants a couple stalls down from me cart." He grunts a bit. "Thought we might get tae have a bit of a natter, but the heat got tae be too much fer us both."

"Yes, but you need -enough- water that it might as well not be wine, but just water cleansed by wine." Telamon looks like he's warming up for a happy discussion, then catches himself. "In any case, as I said it's an irritant more than anything else." At the mention of Rida, Telamon's expression becomes serious, and he listens to Dirk. "Assuming she's there, I doubt she's just wandering the streets. Probably hidden away under close guard."

His eyes shift to Dolan. "I was able to find out where Gale's been whiling away his time in Alexandria. I think we need to have a quiet word with him. I don't know if he'll have anything useful rattling around in his empty head, but..." He shrugs lightly. "We need another lead. Another thread to tug on, as it were."

The mention of water cleansed by wine draws a laugh from Dolan, and he leans forward at the bar to grin over at Telamon. "Why don't you just call it the stuff they serve at the Ox-Strength and be done with it?" This remark occasions a chuckle from the barkeep, and a couple of others nearby. "Unless you'd rather call it manticore piss."

He sobers presently, and sighs. "Yeah. She ain't going to be out and about, if she's even still on this plane, and I wouldn't be shocked if she's not. Gale might know something. Let's have a word with him. Don't know if Andie'll be back in time."

Dirk rumbles a deep laugh, joining Dolan in his brief merriment. "Och, callin' it that's an insult tae manticores -an'- their piss, I'll warrant," he says with a grin. "But we dwarves take our drink seriously. He want tae see some fireworks some time? Watch a couple brewer clans get tae feudin'. Brewin' secrets can be life or death wi' that sort." He nods his head firmly. Dwarf Law has been spoken. He turns his attention back to Dolan. "Well, might could be this merchant I met might know summat. Ye'd surely be welcome tae join us when I meet with 'im next. Gods know I dinnae exactly have the silverest o' tongues."

Telamon snorts at Dolan. "You laugh, but you can actually purify water that way, with strong spirits. It won't taste great, but it'll keep you alive. Uncle Telgari taught me that trick." He grins. "Besides, you think I'd ever drink -anything- in the Ox-Strength? You're lucky if I even show my face in there -- definitely not my kind of tavern."

Tel furrows his brows, considering the question. "I think we'll be okay with just us handling it -- I might see if Lana wants to sit in, but frankly, having the two of us in a business mood might shock Gale into being reasonable. Considering the stakes I am not interested in currying any good feelings out of him."

The half-elf chuckles at Dirk. "Oh, yes. Remember: diplomat's son. And I've dealt with khazadi a time or two." He looks faintly annoyed. "One of my few regrets on that score was not developing a taste for dwarven stouts. They -smell- all right, but they're so damned heavy... ah well."

"Not many who aren't khazad do, my friend. They kick like a mule. You don't drink that to be social, you drink that shit to show you're tough enough, or crazy enough, to stomach the stuff." Again, Dolan's still grinning, and considers the contents of his mug. "Don't blame you there," he goes on, turning to Telamon. "I go there if I want a brawl, not anything to put in my mouth, and I'm getting too old for that shit." This last is said with a sigh. "I'll back you up with Gale. You want to play good guard, bad guard on that?"

Dirk can't help but laugh at that, a deep and rolling sound of mirth that has him slapping the bartop. "Och, you poor lads!" he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh, it's always such fun seein' tallfolk try tae get a proper khazad brew down. Hee hee hee!" He grins up at his friends, eyes bright and merry. It's been awhile since he could enjoy a good belly-laugh like that. "Sure it's an acquired taste, but it's good fer ye! Makes yer beard grow, ask anyone! Might actually get some proper whiskers on those poor, cold chins o' yers!" He glances between the pair. "Think Gale might be any good helpin' us find 'is sister?" he asks.

Telamon laughs softly as well. "Hells, I can't even handle more than a single glass -- a small glass, mind you -- of dwarven whiskey. Stuff just goes right to my head." He looks wry. "Ah well. I'll survive." At the mention of Gale, Tel rubs his chin. "Definitely good guard-bad guard. If you want we can swap back and forth too, keep him off balance."

At Dirk's question, Tel nods. "Hard to say, Dirk. Gale was ensorcelled into being in love with Rida -- and almost wound up being the guest of honor at a sacrifice. I'm hoping he remembers at least some of it, or still possesses some token of hers that we could use to track her. The problem, of course, is that he's a proper twit, the kind that makes you think those fellows who talk about 'abolishing the nobility' might have a point. All the charm and intelligence of a dungheap and even less useful."

"Worse. He's a bully to boot. Thinks he's incredible with a sword. I'd beat his arse in, except that that won't crack that skull of his and let some light in." Disgust fairly drips from Dolan's words, and he finishes his cider, setting it down with a *clunk* on the bar top. "Another round?" he asks of the other two. "Anyway, no whiskers for me, Andie complains they tickle too much. Gale's her brother, by the way, Dirk. Rida's the girl he was ensorcelled to fall in love with. Andie is Gale's only sister."

Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose. "Damn it. That's right," he grunts to Dolan. "Och, I swear, I must be goin' senile in me old age." He shakes his head, puffing quietly at his pipe. "Aye, I'll take another round." He settles himself back a bit. "Sounds like quite the charmer, that Gale," he says. "Glad Andalena dinnae turn out like he did. But if it turns out that he canne help us find Rida, maybe me merchant contact can be of some help. Think we're just about tae the 'graspin' at straws' phase o' the plan."

Telamon nods. "Too damned hot outside. Lana knows where I am, so she's not worried. Want me to cover next round?" While the trio wait for their drinks, Tel continues, "Don't feel too bad, Dirk. Some days you feel like you need a scorecard to keep track of all the players. And it's not like we haven't been running from pillar to post, one task after another." His eyes flick to Dolan. "Which reminds me, thank you for helping me with that errand. Running across Lady Elisabeth was a bonus, of course -- but I was definitely happy to have company."

"No, I've got it." Indeed, even as Telamon is speaking, the necessary coin is set on the bar top to pay for another round for the three of them without another word. "You can get the next one, I'm planning on being here for a tick. It _is_ too damned hot and I've got nowhere better to be until sundown. "My pleasure, Tel. Thanks for having me along. I wonder what she was doing all the way out there, all by herself, though. Seemed damned suspicious to me."

He sits up and looks between the other two. "All it takes is one lead, Dirk, and sometimes that one straw's enough. Let's talk to Gale, and if he ain't know nothing, we talk to your merchant friend. Could probably also try a communing. Zeke might not mind."

Dirk takes up the fresh mug set before him, lifting it towards his friends before tipping back a swallow. "Well, if there's aught else I might be doin', let us know," he says. "It surely couldnae hurt tae ask the gods fer some guidance. Zeke would be handy in the askin', I'll warrant. But maybe we'll get lucky an' Gale actually -will- turn out tae be worth more'n a shitpile. Stranger things have happened."

Telamon hmmms. "Or I can perform a legend lore casting -- but it'd take time since Rida's not 'on hand' as it were. Works a lot better if you actually have whatever you're researching with that spell." He taps his fingertips on the bar, before picking up his drink. "I do have a thought, Dirk. Keep an eye out for any surprises out of Charn. Harkashan called me to Am'shere briefly for a consultation on some things happening there -- it's not impossible that the Charnese are throwing multiple schemes out to spread us thin. If you think you've run across something serious, let Lana know."

That warning isn't lost on Dolan either, and he, too, takes his mug as it hits the bar top and the coins are swept into the waiting hand of the barkeep. "Going into Charn's a fool's errand if we don't know exactly what we're looking for." He takes a long pull of his mug, and sighs into it. "All of the above might makes sense, but Tel, you're stretched pretty damned thin. How about you let us track down Rida while you handle these other errands, yeah? Andie's gone and, if we're honest, I ain't got much to do. The healers don't want me doing Guild jobs right now, and I've been keeping busy with the furniture and my studies but - not a whole lot else." The last is said with a long sigh.

Dirk nods his head to Telamon. "Aye, I can do that easy 'nough. If Lulu weren't busy bein' a mama owl tae a bonny wee owlet, I'd have her keepin' the eye out as well. But I see all sorts comin' through the marketplace. I'll keep me nose tae the wind an' me ear tae the ground." He looks overe to Dolan, his expression turning sympathetic. "Och, ye'd -think- a great an' accomplished Corona like yeself might have earned some high-powered healin' from the gods," he grumbles. "We need ye fit an healthy. How're ye meant tae do Daeus' good works wi' a busted shoulder? That's what -I'd- like tae know." He harrumps softly, gulping back another swallow from his mug. "Just dinnae seem right," he grumbles softly.

Telamon nods. "I have no intention of going into Charn blindly." His expression becomes guarded, but then he sighs. "We'll see, Dolan. I don't want you or anyone else walking into something I could've helped with. So both of you keep your eyes and ears open and don't hesitate to call for help."

He sighs, shaking his head at Dolan's mention of his shoulder. "I really have to agree with Dirk on this. I've seen you have problems with that shoulder over and over, and I'm worried that you're eventually going to have some permanent damage to it, something even divine healing might be hard pressed to fix."

"It's already happened." Dolan's admission is very, very low and morose, said into his mug. "There's a damned good reason I wear that brace, you two. Divine healing can't fix it completely. They've tried. There's not enough left of the structure to save. The muscle I build in it is damned near the only thing that holds it together, that and the brace."

He breathes out again, a hard breath, as if blowing away self-pity. "But that's a damn good reason to keep fighting. I ain't done yet."

Dirk winces quietly, and he reaches over to rest his hand on Dolan's shoulder. The good one, obviously. "Gods love ye, Dolan. I hate seein' ye suffer so. I -know- ye said ye dinnae want tae look at a magitek replacement, but..." He lifts his hand, making a helpless gesture. "Isn't there -some- sort o' way tae regrow what was lost? Give ye back the bone an' muscle, good as new?" He settles himself back, letting loose a gusty sigh. "It's not right. It's not -fair-," he grumbles. He glances back up at his friends. "An' aye, I know--life isnae fair. But damn it, it -should- be." He tips back another gulp of his beer. "But grizzlin' never mended metal," he says. "So... once you lads have yer chat wi' Gale, Dolan an' I'll go an' talk tae me contact in the markets. There anything else we're forgettin'?"

Telamon stares at Dolan, then shakes his head. "Alright. No. No. I am not going to tolerate that. You're right, Dolan, I'm spread a little thin. But I will -make- time to try and help you, however I can." His voice is firm. "No, I don't plan to research anything unnatural, but you've done a lot for me. It's the least I can do for you."

"I don't think so, Dirk. We've pretty much got our priorities set -- we'll shake down Gale, and you keep your ears open in the meantime." His expression lightens a little. "I need to check on how far Simony's gotten with the ceiling fresco in the living room. She offered to paint something tasteful -- lots of stars, ravens, fey dancing, that sort of thing. She's really quite skilled."

"I've got enough magitek in me, Dirk." Dolan gestures to his right eye, his smile genuine enough. "Oh, it serves well enough, but it's got downsides. The meat one don't fail in an anti-magic field. Better to try to strengthen what I got. I can fight with one eye. I can't fight with one arm." He takes another pull of his mug and sets it down, reaching across to cover Dirk's hand on his shoulder with his. "Thank you. Both of you. Tel, you've done so damned much for me I've lost count. Both of you have. I've quit counting."

"I think Tel's got the right of it. Keep your ears open, and Tel and I will shake down Gale. I'll abide by the healer's orders. It helps. I can still fight if I have to, but we try the sneaky path first, yeah?"

Dirk eyes his pipe and leans over to upend it, knocking the ashes out of the bowl into the ashtray. "Aye, ears open I can do easy 'nough," he says, setting his pipe next to his tobacco pouch upon the bar. "It's a shame Rida's nae hidin' out in the wood. She'd -never- get away from me then. Nor would she see me comin' 'til I was right up on 'er!" He manages a wry chuckle. "But nay, what are friends for, eh? A fine friend -I'd- be if I just stood by an' let ye suffer. Family is blood, but friends are stone."

Telamon nods in agreement with Dolan, taking a sip of his cider. "Magitek, like magic, has it's limits. But... I've never been one to simply accept a situation I don't like." His eyes twinkle. "So I'll keep an eye out. In the meantime -- yes. Guile, sneakiness, brains before brawn on this one. We keep looking for threads and we tug on them till they unravel."

Tel grins at Dirk. "That's probably why she's not in the forest, Dirk. I daresay any fiend or evildoer there, the last thing that passes through their head will be one of your thunderbelcher slugs."

"And that'll happen but quick," Dolan agrees at once. "That thing might be loud, but a stouter warrior with one I ain't seen. We avoid a fight if we can. I'm sure we'll get one eventually, but I say we save our energy and Dirk's ammunition for when we really need it, yeah?"

He quirks half a smile at the both of them. "Look, if there ain't nothing to be done, there's things I can still do. I can still wield the longsword. Been doing that longer than I'been wielding the big sword. I ain't giving up, nohow, and I got still my brains, right?"

Dirk can't help but puff up his chest and preen a bit at Telamon's praise. "Och, that's flatterin' comin' from you, lad," he says with a big smile. "All the things you an' Lana can do... sometimes, it makes my thunderbelcher seem like a wee pop gun, dunnit?" To Dolan, he nods his head firmly. "There's a good lad," he says. "Hope is only lost when we choose tae lay it down. Might mean we're just an idealistic fool, but... I'd rather be that than go through life wi' a black cloud hangin' over me. Mornin' will always come. That's it's job."

"Don't think it's been an easy road. And some of the turns on it have been unexpected." Telamon smiles at Dirk. "But like you said. We're here to carry hope. I once said I was a guardian of travelers at night. I still am. For all my adventures I am still the same lad who came to Alexandria." He laughs softly. "So if you're an idealistic fool, Dirk, then you're in good company. Ea has fools aplenty after all."

Tel studies Dolan again, before his expression softens. "That's true. You're as good with a one-handed blade as you are with a two-hander. With any luck, though, we won't need a blade, at least not for Gale. Rida... well, we'll cross that ford when we get to it." He strokes his chin. "Could be worse. I remember when all the magicians in Alexandria were having nonstop nightmares. That was a pain in the arse, no mistake."

Immediately, Dolan shudders. "Don't remind me. Those damned nightmares." The smile is almost entirely gone, and he pulls down another slurp of his cider. "As for being an idealistic fool, they're the only men who ever accomplish anything. It's a damned good company we're all in, yeah? Just gotta stick together. And you're right. Won't need a blade for him. I hope. He might want to challenge me."

Telamon's eyes flash for a moment, the stars shining. "I'm not interested in playing silly games with him. I won't hurt him, but I'm not going to waste time with some sort of stupid challenge. This is a serious endeavour, not some copper dreadful story." He takes a breath. "Sorry. Sometimes... it's hard to keep my composure." He smiles at Dolan and Dirk.

"But then, I do have some good examples as to how to do that. I'll try and follow your examples."