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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Isida Kep'Tukari" data-source="post: 3192420" data-attributes="member: 4441">"Of course Whiteskin," he says and gestures for you to walk with him.  He circles back near the dock, taking a roundabout path, eventually coming to the berth of a ship called the Bloody Fin.  A half-dozen other darfellans drop down from the rigging or boil up from below when Shooki!alui calls out to them.  People around you start covering their ears when the greetings get a little piercing.  It's been a while since you've been able to converse in your own tongue exclusively, and the change is a pleasant one.  There are two women and four men, all of them experienced sahaugin hunters.  They're the remnents of a particularly small clan, the Wavebearers, now acting as their own miniature clan after the deaths of their kin.  Of Fee, they've only heard rumors, mostly that she was heading towards the Earth Wall.  However, the Bloody Fin is currently docked for repairs, so they aren't in any shape to follow her for another week.  Of the Kingdom of Knowledge they know little.  They would very much like to consult the weirds as to the best place to strike next, but finding an appropriate offering can be difficult.  They haven't heard anything of the upheavel.  The void genasi looks bored throughout Nissa's speech.  Then again, a void genasi always tends to look bored; they never waste energy on expression.  As Nissa delivers her ultimatim, however, a curious change comes over her face.  A knowing and wise expression, a quality of animation quite alien to her type, enters her visage.  "You are an excellent actress, little Nissa.  However, even if you were Chronotrypsis himself, I would not tell you a thing.  Please, come upstairs, we need to speak more freely," the woman says, and suddenly points to a spiral staircase in the corner.  If Nissa chooses to climb up them, she finds herself in due course in a comfortable sitting room.  Mellow orange flames crackle merrily in a tapestry on the wall, and a spongy red-orange floor seems to provide the seating, as the only other furniture is a large, low table and a large rug under it.  Sitting across the table is an elderly man, slender, wizened, perhaps of some fey heritage, given his pointed ears and violet eyes."Little Nissa," he says softly, "Oh child, what danger have you brought with you!"   Shobrakka's entire carriage lifts in excitement, and he extracts something from his robe.  Extending a gloved hand, he unwraps a handkerchief, revealing a sliver of obsidian inside.  At Trey's and Lupaz's nods, he doodles another smile in the dirt, and waves a hand.  Suddenly sound returns; nothing obvious, just the faint whispers of breezes, Lupaz's breathing, the faint noises from the street outside.  The Dreammind takes out a small flask from his robe, along with quill with an iron feather.  He acts as if he were talking into the bottle, then takes up the quill and pretends to write something short onto it, tapping the obsidian shard as he does.    "Both, actually.  But trading items directly leaves less of a trail to follow.  What have you to trade?" the man says pleasently.</blockquote>

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