The Omon Great Hall (IC Chat)

Valrakas seems to have regained his high spirits after the briefbout of melancholy brought on by Hadari's toast to the Soul of the Sea. The minotaur speaks little it, but the former pirate has let slip a few times that it was a shipwreck that brought him to dry land.

Back to his usual, loud self Valrakas lauds each song by banging his tankard on the table and roaring with approval. And so it continues deep into the night. At one point the minotaur himself sings a humorous song about a fat fishwife, a stick-thin Abbot, and a pork sausage.

The next day...

It is early morning, with the sun barely risen above the sand dunes. The desert looks perfectly still but if one knows to look, it is teeming with activity: lizards and bugs are scrambling to collect precious dew before it dries up. A lone scorpion tracks across a gravel bed dragging the body of the mate it just killed. Jackals and rodents, redolent after another night of hunting, and in some cases, feasting, lounge in the dwindling shade. Birds take flight, riding the thermals spiralling up from the salt flats. Feng, the young aarakocra monk, takes it all in, as he soars higher than even the desert falcons, reveling in the bracing morning air while it lasts. Soon enough the sun will climb higher and hotter and the Kamatayan desert, true to its name, will be a killing field. This is nothing like his mist-shrouded mountain home, where the air is crisp and clean and devoid of dust. Here in the demesne of Lady Tsira, all must fight daily to survive, and the buzzards take the rest. And yet there are true treasures in this, the Omon Treasure Hoard - Feng has made friends here. And there are pricelesd lessons to be learned in a places like these.

A dust devil spirals by. The air begins to shimmer as the sands heat up. It is time to shelter. Feng banks his wings and flies back to the keep for his morning meditation and exercises.

Qiora is at breakfast, dressed plainly in a simple robe and leggings. Her sleeves are rolled up as she enjoys a breakfast stew with hot cider and bread. While at the table, a brush appears to be moving on its own through her hair. Throughout the meal, Qiora's hair braids and ties itself neatly with ribbon.

The halfling sets her empty mug on the table. A nearby ceramic pitcher is lifted by an unseen servant and pours a new round.

After leaving the Great Hall last night without a word of response to Qiora's request, Hadari was nowhere to be found. Yet in the morning he strides into the hall with an air of self-ascribed purpose. He sits across the long table from Qiora, holding a clear bottle full of seawater, a small piece of driftwood, and a clam shell shaped like a bowl. He draws a long breath that demands attention as he looks unblinkingly at Qiora.

With a simple motion, he places the driftwood in the clam bowl. Then he reaches for the seawater bottle and begins to pour it into the clam.

"This is Setharis," he says with utmost conviction. "He is the torrent that crushes the weak. He is the flood that devours the prideful. He is the storm that lays waste to evil and falsehood."

When he finishes speaking, he stops pouring. The driftwood flails at the base of the clam bowl, held down by the force of the flow, until that force abates and it rises to the water's level.

"This is also Setharis," he whispers reverently. "He is the ship that cradles the worthy. He is the harbor in times of great trouble. He is the drink that slakes our greatest thirsts."

Finally, Setharis pours more seawater until the driftwood escapes the bowl, and water spills over the longtable. At this Hadari nearly tears up, overcome with the joy of his faith.

"He is tide that carries us to greatness beyond what we can imagine. He is the rain that washes our souls clean. He is the sweat that cools us in our times of greatest toil."

After a brief pause, Hadari stares into Qiora's eyes, no longer staring at the water he has cast around the hall.

"Do you see? Do you understand?"

"Oh yes," Qiora purrs, almost blissfully. "Definitely, that's spot on. That's good."

Then she blinks as the water spreads over the table. "Oh, sorry! Fabio was giving me a morning massage." She cricks her neck and gestures idly to the seawater. "Fabio, be a dear and clean that up. Hadari seems to have spilled something." Qiora's Unseen Servant begins to mop.

"You were saying?"

Hadari stomps back out of the hall, leaving damp, indignant footprints as he goes.

Qiora watches the genasi stalk off. "Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" she calls out after him, pointing to the clam shell bowl and driftwood.

Qiora leans forward for a better glimpse of Hadari's demonstration. "Odd diet," she murmurs aloud before sitting back in her chair. "Must be vegetarian."

Rhograx passes Hadari in the hallway and comes into the common room of the Great Hall, surveying the mess.

"Did the poor fellow make a mess? I think we have something to cure a weak bladder!"

"Wow, with everyone gone, things are a little quiet around here." Rhograx says pacing back and forth.

"Shut up you fool! We are safe and fed here, no need to travel about and possibly die!" Jorkus snaps.

"True," says Qiora, rising from her chair. "But, as I have guard duty now, it'd seem that death can reach us even here." She flashes a grin and skips away to change into her gear, before heading to the parapet at the main gate.

Tsira eats a piece of hard jerky and some boiled water for breakfast while sitting in the hall.

"I don't know what's worse, the weather or the food out here. Hopefully we can get some chickens out here, I miss eggs."

"Excuse me ma'am, we have a visitor seeking our help." Rhograx does a sweeping motion with his arm and brings in the sprite.

At the mention of eggs, Feng looks up from his breakfast. He, too, misses eggs, but not in the same way that Tsira does. The remark made him think of his home. His reverie is broken, however, when Rhograx brings in the sprite. Feng cocks his head curiously.

Valrakas notices Feng's reaction to Tsira's egg remark. He guffaws loudly, and is about to give the birdman a slap on the shoulder when Rhograx enters with a curious little critter. Valrakas turns his great horned head to gawk.

Tsira slowly chews a piece of jerky as she examines the visitor.

"Well, go on."

The sprite back stiffens, and he introduces himself.

Y-yes! My name is Nalu, I'm from the forest- er, you might know it as the Kamatayan Forest."

He goes on the recite his elder's message, stumbling over some of the more complex words.

"Our forest has been polluted by the h-hallucinogenic properties of m-myconids. Our society is falling apart, as fey are susceptible to the spores. I'm one of the few who are resistant to the spores, so they sent me there to get help.

Tsira ponders for a moment, then downs her drink.

"Hmm, it would be nice to get on the good side of the fey... Stay here for the moment, Nalu, and have some food while you wait!"

Qiora briefly makes an appearance, passing through the great hall on her way to the washroom, followed by a trip to the kitchen.

The bard hums a tune to herself as she returns, crossing the hall back to the parapets at the main gate, this time holding a plate of fruit and tomatoes.

"And that," Rhograx sweeps his arm around, "is the grand tour of this wonderful place! Any questions Nalu?