Rolzup
First Post
Dinner with Erebus
I was, I must admit, rather surprised that they allowed us all to enter the Palm d’Whorl. It should be understood that I, a man of obvious breeding and distinction, am entirely accustomed to dining in such establishments. My companions, however, are the sort of people who either eat with their hands or poke at their food with little sticks...and such folk are rarely welcome in a gourmet restaurant.
BURNE’S TABLE MANNERS WOULD MAKE A CRAZED WOLVERINE BLUSH AND LOOK AWAY.
Nevertheless, they allowed us entrance, after little more than a few curious glances and whispered comments. Some discreetly passed coins, and a bit of namedropping, allowed us access to the Palm’s head chef, Joachim’s mentor: Johannes du Beouf, aka Spring Veal Jack.
He was relieved to know that Joachim was, so far as we knew, still alive. He professed himself unable to help us in our quest, however, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Johannes had access to neither the funds nor contacts that would further our search. He did have one suggestion, however....
He introduced to a guest of the hotel, a man who -- he intimated -- might be able to help us. The fellow called himself Mr. Erebus, if you can credit it. He was one of the Palm’s most frequent patrons, and had been a guest at the hotel for over a century now. He hardly looked his age, I must admit. He dressed well, if a little too flashily for my tastes, but seemed tired and unfocused. When we approached him, we interrupted him at a game of canasta with a elderly woman, who favored us with a pleasant smile.
He invited us to dine with him, and we cheerfully accepted. It was an oddly unsettling meal. Tasty, I hasten to add! Excellent food, well prepared and charmingly served. But our new companion made it rather difficult to concentrate upon the food. He had a habit of answering questions before they had been asked, and would sometimes do so without speaking aloud. Another Mind Witch, I wondered? But he didn’t look like a Shirac....
To his credit, Mr. Erebus seemed genuinely affected by the plight of Joachim and Delphine. But there was nothing, he confessed, that he could do to directly aid us. Rackhir, I think it was, raised the possibility of enlisting the aid of one of St. Sous’ rivals -- the Magnate Benoit Bodhi, perhaps -- and revealing the situation to him. Spurred on by greed and malice, he could certainly put social pressure on St. Sous, and force the release of Delphine.
Or, at least, provide us with some mercenaries who could aid us in an assault upon the St. Sous estate.
THAT WAS BURNE’S CONTRIUBUTION.
Mr. Erebus actually blanched at this. With such actions, he protested, we would be risking the precipitation of a trade war which could rip Narayan in half. Were we aware of this, and of the consequences that it would have upon CITY as a whole? Well, of course I was....
LIAR.
...but what could you expect from a barbarian like Rackhir?
Fortunately, we were able to convince the archer to listen to reason.
Another idea occurred to me at this juncture. Could we, I asked the assemblage, go to the Lovesworn for aid? Their very purpose was to reunite separated lovers, after all.
I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE SURPRISED IN MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE.
Erebus admitted that this was, in fact, an excellent idea. No surprise, considering the source! But he cautioned us that the Lovesworn have, more than once, caused more problems than they've solved.
The meal came to an end shortly thereafter, with Erebus tendering both his apologies and his card....which was, curiously enough, completely blank.
We left the Palm D’Whorl in reasonably good grace, our stomachs full. Still, however, at a loss as to our next move, we went our separate ways for the time being. I happened to glance at the card that Erebus had given me, and found that it was no longer blank at all....
I was, I must admit, rather surprised that they allowed us all to enter the Palm d’Whorl. It should be understood that I, a man of obvious breeding and distinction, am entirely accustomed to dining in such establishments. My companions, however, are the sort of people who either eat with their hands or poke at their food with little sticks...and such folk are rarely welcome in a gourmet restaurant.
BURNE’S TABLE MANNERS WOULD MAKE A CRAZED WOLVERINE BLUSH AND LOOK AWAY.
Nevertheless, they allowed us entrance, after little more than a few curious glances and whispered comments. Some discreetly passed coins, and a bit of namedropping, allowed us access to the Palm’s head chef, Joachim’s mentor: Johannes du Beouf, aka Spring Veal Jack.
He was relieved to know that Joachim was, so far as we knew, still alive. He professed himself unable to help us in our quest, however, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Johannes had access to neither the funds nor contacts that would further our search. He did have one suggestion, however....
He introduced to a guest of the hotel, a man who -- he intimated -- might be able to help us. The fellow called himself Mr. Erebus, if you can credit it. He was one of the Palm’s most frequent patrons, and had been a guest at the hotel for over a century now. He hardly looked his age, I must admit. He dressed well, if a little too flashily for my tastes, but seemed tired and unfocused. When we approached him, we interrupted him at a game of canasta with a elderly woman, who favored us with a pleasant smile.
He invited us to dine with him, and we cheerfully accepted. It was an oddly unsettling meal. Tasty, I hasten to add! Excellent food, well prepared and charmingly served. But our new companion made it rather difficult to concentrate upon the food. He had a habit of answering questions before they had been asked, and would sometimes do so without speaking aloud. Another Mind Witch, I wondered? But he didn’t look like a Shirac....
To his credit, Mr. Erebus seemed genuinely affected by the plight of Joachim and Delphine. But there was nothing, he confessed, that he could do to directly aid us. Rackhir, I think it was, raised the possibility of enlisting the aid of one of St. Sous’ rivals -- the Magnate Benoit Bodhi, perhaps -- and revealing the situation to him. Spurred on by greed and malice, he could certainly put social pressure on St. Sous, and force the release of Delphine.
Or, at least, provide us with some mercenaries who could aid us in an assault upon the St. Sous estate.
THAT WAS BURNE’S CONTRIUBUTION.
Mr. Erebus actually blanched at this. With such actions, he protested, we would be risking the precipitation of a trade war which could rip Narayan in half. Were we aware of this, and of the consequences that it would have upon CITY as a whole? Well, of course I was....
LIAR.
...but what could you expect from a barbarian like Rackhir?
Fortunately, we were able to convince the archer to listen to reason.
Another idea occurred to me at this juncture. Could we, I asked the assemblage, go to the Lovesworn for aid? Their very purpose was to reunite separated lovers, after all.
I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE SURPRISED IN MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE.
Erebus admitted that this was, in fact, an excellent idea. No surprise, considering the source! But he cautioned us that the Lovesworn have, more than once, caused more problems than they've solved.
The meal came to an end shortly thereafter, with Erebus tendering both his apologies and his card....which was, curiously enough, completely blank.
We left the Palm D’Whorl in reasonably good grace, our stomachs full. Still, however, at a loss as to our next move, we went our separate ways for the time being. I happened to glance at the card that Erebus had given me, and found that it was no longer blank at all....