[Realms #469] Remember Me?
"I see none of us who needs assistance," Saelus said with a nod to the bearded human. The war mage did not want to show any form of weakness in front of an unknown race... particularly not one that carried so many greatswords and halbards. "Though a question comes to mind: have you seen a spidership come by?"
"A spidership?" the robbed man said as he maneuvered the ship closer to Morier and Saelus through some inexplicable means. "A neogi vessel?" he asked and the githyanki in the boat seemed to grow suddenly agitated. Saelus merely pointed at the dead umber hulks.
"We fought off the away team, but the ship got away, unfortunately," he said as if it were all in a day's work. The boatman stepped away from the crystal and put a foot up on his boat's gunwale. He leaned on his knee and peered at the detritus of lashed bodies. His eyebrows went up.
"Just the two of you?" he asked, clearly surprised. Grandfather Plaque shot upward and closer to the man.
"Two?!?" the stone face said irritably. "I helped!" The boatman drew back in surprise from the flying construct and Morier saw several of the githyanki tighten grips on their weapons.
"Yes!" Morier jumped in. "Grandfather Plaque was instrumental in our victory." The boatman nodded.
"Even so... three against a neogi vessel and their slaves," he said and whistled appreciatively. "No mean feat there. You are clearly not men... or constructs... to be trifled with." The albino nodded.
"And how is it that you've crossed our path?" he asked and the man stepped back from the gunwale and gestured around at the astral expanse.
"Salvage!" he said with pride. "Lots of stuff gets lost in the astral sea... some fool puts a portable hole inside a bag of holding... an archmage breaks a staff... You'd be surprised what ends up just drifting out here."
Morier glanced at Saelus and Grandfather Plaque and decided that he probably wouldn't be all that surprised, really.
"So you and your crew fly around looking for lost junk?" Saelus asked and the boatman chuckled.
"It's not all junk, my friend," the bearded man said. "Most of it is magical gear, truth be told. And I'm not talking about potions and scrolls, either. I'm talking the good stuff! Rods, amulets, cloaks... Why Gisir Okemocik has an entire wall decorated just with weapons that folks have recovered from the void and brought to Akiv-tchai over the years."
"Akiv-tchai?" Morier asked. "Where's that..." He paused realizing that he'd never learned the man's name. The boatman smiled and bowed slightly.
"I am Olimir Frisig," he said. "And Akiv-tchai is a githyanki trading outpost... well, really it's THE githyanki trading outpost, at least the only one this close to the Chain of Tears."
"The Chain of Tears?" Saelus asked and Olimir shook his head, bemused.
"You folks are new to the astral, aren't you?" he asked. "The Chain of Tears is Buomman territory. It's a bunch of floating rocks mainly. The githyanki go in there looking for driftmetal every now and again, until the Buommans chase them out. It's not worth the trouble if you ask me."
"Now umber hulk carcasses..." Olimir added, angling his head at their burden. "Those could fetch a tidy sum at Akiv-tchai... if you were looking to unload them, I mean. I'm heading back that way... I'd be happy to give you a tow."
"I am right to assume the towing would not be for free," Saelus asked. "After all, you're a business man and I don't think you would be going the same way for free, no?" Olimir smiled.
"In truth, I am going that way. On the astral sea there are many directions to head, but not many places to go," he admitted. "But yes, a small travel fee would be appropriate, I think. Say... 10% of the profit from your sale of the umber hulk corpses?" The boatman put his foot back on the gunwale and leaned over the side to nod at the two companions. Morier nodded back.
"We'd be happy to pay you a percentage of whatever we can barter for their sale in exchange for the ride," the albino said, looking to Saelus. The war wizard regarded Morier with a strange expression that was obscured by the Eyes of the Eagle that he wore. "What's a fair price, Saelus?"
Saelus looked as if in thought. He took the glasses off for a second and thoughtfully worked his temples, then he said, "I think 6% would be more then enough." With that he extended his hand to indicate he was haggling and expected a slap on his hand from the boatman with a counter offer as he'd seen done in certain bazaars in Elcaden. Instead, Olimir bent low and grasped his hand in a firm shake.
"Done!" he said. "Attach your ropes to the stern and we'll be on our way. It shouldn't take long, but I must concentrate to pilot the ship."
After some time, they reached Akiv-tchai. The outpost was built in, and projecting out from, a roughly spherical piece of astral debris they judged to be 200 feet or so in diameter. Four towers jutted out from the central section at roughly symmetrical angles while a fifth projection, longer and thicker than the towers, was topped by a bulbous sphere with four smaller towers jutting out near the edges of a large set of double doors — the only apparent route by which to enter the complex. And it was toward this that Olimir guided the longboat.
Without the largest of the projections, the outpost closely resembled a jack, of the sort used in the “ball and jacks” game played by children on Orune. But a sinister jack, to be sure, decorated everywhere with iron spikes and riveted metal plates.
As their boat neared the double doors, Olimir slowed its progress and two of the githyanki flew from the ship to the portal and, heaving mightily, pushed the valves open so that the dimly-lit interior of the stone sphere became visible, lit dimly by Everburning Torches. Their flickering light illuminated several mooring platforms that jutted from the far side of the hollow sphere, pointing like wooden fingers toward the huge double doors. There was another ship docked at a far platform, but Olimir deftly steered their boat toward one of the center docks. The other pair of githyanki grabbed mooring lines and secured the ship.
"Welcome to Akiv-tchai," Olimir said as he turned from the crystal and stretched his back.
This chamber was spherical, about 100 feet in diameter and decorated everywhere with reliefs of githyanki warriors and huge fire-breathing dragons laying waste to strange humanoids with heads that looked entirely like octopi. The large set of double doors thudded closed behind them on the outside wall as the first pair of githyanki moved to rejoin them. A smaller set of double doors were on the opposite wall evidently leading deeper into the outpost. Four 10-foot-wide passages lead away from the sphere, each of them a 30-foot-long corridor down which the silvery light of the astral plane flickered. Judging by their placement around the place, Saelus imagined that they were actually the inside of the smaller towers they had seen when approaching the place.
"It seems awfully empty for a trading outpost," Grandfather Plaque asserted as he floated around.
"Don't worry," Olimir said. "I sent word ahead that we'd be arriving."
As if on cue, there came a loud clunk from the double doors at the front of the chamber as a bar was drawn away. Then they opened and a squad of githyanki floated into the room in a tight, regimented formation. They bristled with weapons and wore baroque armor that glittered with filigree in the light from the Everburning Torches. They immediately spread out into a loose cluster as a pair of githyanki flew out, their armor slightly more elaborate than the others. They were followed by a third whose armor was more impressive yet, and it became apparent at once that he was in charge of this group. He sneered imperiously at Olimir and his passengers.
"Wait here," the boatman said to Saelus and Morier. "There are some protocols that need to be followed." He favored them with a thin smile and drifted toward the cloud of grim-faced githyanki. But instead of speaking with their leader he simply joined their ranks and smiled back at Saelus and Morier once more.
"Well, Morier," a voice said from the rear of the group, "We meet again." A figure was there and he moved forward as the githyanki parted to make room. He was a man dressed in black with a white goatee and he bore a staff with a loupe of gold at its apex.
"Dr. Akerman?" Morier sputtered, incredulous.
"Indeed," the loremaster said, grinning. "And I believe you have something that I want."
