Date: Second of July, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: the gates of Chedal.

Job Arseoth eyes the four guards standing at attention at the gate, looks down at his disheveled and travel stained appearance, and sighs in dismay.

“Aren't we a sorry lot to see. Here I am, pants more brown then black, shirt faded to gray, neither hat nor hood for my head, and leaning on a staff with as many nicks as it has smooth surface left. What say we pool our resources and find a shop once we convince these guards to let us in? I for one could use a change of clothes or three. .”

Blue rolls her eyes heavenwards in relief. “Prestidigitation does wonders for dirt and stains but can't re-add color bleached away. Mending, likewise, is great for rips and tears but can't replace treads frays to dust on the wind. This used to be a well-made evening gown. Now just look at it.”

Job looks, and finds himself impressed at how Blue holds herself. The top half of her dress covered no more then a vest, revealing tanned arms wrapped in lithe runner's muscles. Its lower half had once trailed to the ground in flowing waves, but now was only shin length and split to mid-thigh to facilitate walking long distances. The whole ensemble, once been a magnificent midnight blue, was now a serviceable ruddy blue and covered in more crude Mending-stitch marks then Job could count.

Job nodded in agreement, “Court dress fairs poorly on the road, but with nothing to replace it...”

Blue dipped her head in instant agreement, “at least it is still decent, and my belts, bag, and quiver strap hold it in place well enough.”

Candle snorts with magnificent, noble panache, “I, on the other hand, am as immaculate as always. The benefits of being awoken to a service long destined, I suppose.”

Blue tossed a pebble at Candle, “you mean of glamoured armor. Raiment or not, you need clothing for other occasions too. Not to mention undergarments.”

“Hey! I've got a tail to account for now and I haven't had the time to sit down with a tailor to get something suitable crafted up.”

Blue just rolls here eyes, “why don't you just call up clothing out of your storage the way you used to do?”

“I have some of my old spells, true, but my storage went down with my tower. Along with the ritual-activated enchantments that went with it. If any of it survived the implosion it's now scattered halfway across the Ethereal Plane.”

Job claps his hands, “Ladies, less bickering and more planning, please. I don't know the first thing about Chedal beyond the basic almanac information: port city on the trade routes between the Jeweled Republics and Althiem, multi-racial but human-dominant, dependent on agriculture, tourism, and trade, low presence of manufactoriums and guilds. The Guild excepted of course.”

Blue flicks one tanned hand in a throwing-away gesture, “a fair assessment, and about what I would expect of a trade-route city, but I admit that I am not the most knowledgeable about the small places of the world. Candle?”

Candle bounces in excitement, “not much to add, just that Chedal is the home of Elci's, so what supplies the Guild won't sell, Elci's will. Legitimate goods only, of course, and nothing heavily enchanted, but they've got mageweave at least. Possibly runecloth or embersilk, though that might be a bit pricey.”

Job rolls his eyes, “we agreed to go by ship, so we should have some money to spare. Let's pool our coin and split it up now. I've got 350 gold to put in the pot.”

Blue winced, “only fifty seven gold here, and eighteen silver.”

Candle grinned, “220 gold here. Looks like you are going to lose out Job.”

Job shrugs off his loss while pouring out coins.

“That works out to 209 gold and six silver each, so you lose out too Candle.”

“Rats!”

Blue laughs softly, “we'll go shopping as a group. Wouldn't want the street rat to get ripped off after all.”

Job rebags his remaining coins and leads the way towards the gate guards.

“Halt and state your business in Chedal!”

“Adventurers, leaving the ruins of what was the Jeweled Republics, bound for Althiem.”

“Bear ye any word of what happened down there?”

“Nothing more then the passing ships might tell you: a storm-wave from the dark side of the nine hells wiped out pretty much everything. Armageddon reef, Ebony, Ruby, Sapphire, SiDiabolo Tower, it's all just gone. We didn't see many other survivors, perhaps one in a thousand.”

“One in ten thousand more like. How'd you make it out?”

“We were headed up Carrion Road, two days out of Sapphire. Heard the wave before we saw it. Turned back to look for anyone or anything and found only ruins. Scrounged up a few cans, mostly bread and beans, and then hit the road for Althiem.”

“Why Althiem? And why by ship? Seems to me like you'd want to avoid the oceans just now, what with the gods having just swept five whole cities away.”

“Returning home to Trebor really, not like I have anywhere else to go. May we pass?”

The guard shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sure, sure. Be careful not to be swiping anything, especially the cat. Either of 'em. Folk are on edge at the moment.”

Job nods his head in thanks for the tip, “we'll stop by the Guild first, they'll have a spare stall for a Paladin's Mount somewhere.”

The guard's eys squint in suspicion, “A Paladin? What order, and what Deity?”

Candle pats daughter of Night's flank, “Redemption, and Black Cloak. I'll not be starting any trouble, and Daughter of Night will behave herself if she wants to eat tuna while on the ship to Althiem.”

“Kenus Tiwna Suddiog? Zu'u Fen Ymddwyn Pruzah!”

The guard gives out a relieved belly laugh, “never met a cat that didn't like fish. It'll take a few to feed that one form the looks of her though. Open 'er up guys, no threat here.”

- - . - - . . . - - -

Date: Second of July, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: The Guildhouse of Chedal.

Candle in the Dark of Clan SiDiabolo leads Daughter of Night around the back of the Guild's headquarters in Chedal.

“I know the streets aren't kind on your paws, but it's not much further.”

“I'd rather jump up on the roofs and bathe in the sun.”

“You weigh a ton. Literally. You'd break any building you tried to do that to.”

“Just like those flimsy trees.”

“Exactly. Ah, stablehand! Do you have room for a Paladin's Mount?”

The stablehand in question stands up from where he had been leaning against a post, “Giant Panther, speaks primordial? Sure, I've a stall and feed, down the sunny end of the yard and away from the horses. Be a silver a day for the stall, and four more for the feed.”

Candle handed over a gold piece, “two days then, today and tomorrow. And the same again at the end if I hear a satisfactory report from Daughter of Night.”

The stablehand pocketed the coin, “can do ma'am. C'mon then pretty kitty, let get you settled in for the day.”

Candles waves goodbye and heads for the Guild's martial shop.

“Lets see here, the Guild sells all things martial and adventurous. I need arrows for my new bow, much as I hope to never need them. Backpack, mess kit, quiver, bedroll, waterskin, rope, and some torches should do for a start...”

“Candle, glad I caught you!”

“Headed to the shops too Job?”

“Yeah. Here, catch!”

Job tosses a small iron key to Candle.

“Your room key. 307, pared with Blue. We only have it for the one night, so don't get too comfortable in it. Got your shopping list prepared?”

“For the Guild anyway, yes. Elci's... I'll need to see what they have. Mageweave or better would be nice, but I'm not sure about cost.”

“What's the bother anyway? Simple silk works great in Althiem's summer heat, and even 'mere' cotton works just fine if that's all you can afford.”

“Mageweave is suitable for basic enchantments, runecloth for intermediate ones, and embersilk for advanced ones. Think in-built Mending vs. Glamoured clothing vs. a bound spell of Flight. I don't think we can afford anything actually enchanted, but having clothing that can be enchanted later might be worth the investment.”

- - . - - . . . - - -

Date: Second of July, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: Elci's of Chedal.

Blue lets her eyes grow wide as she stares out across the rows of shelves and displays.

“I expected a tailor's shop, perhaps a clothier's, but this...!”

Job nods, “The pricing will probably floor you too then. Even with oceanic shipping costs, the textile manufactoriums crank out more cloth for far cheaper then can be done by hand. At least for the unenchanted cloths.”

Candle took Blue by the wrists, “Even mageweave is steadily coming down in price as the looms get better and better. Come, female section is over on the right half of the store. Job, try not to be too... drab?”

Job snorts, “A draconic Sorcerer? Drab? You surely jest.”

Blue sniffs and lifts her nose into the air, “I doubt any mere Sorcerer could match the pompous height of the Clerics.”

Job laughs and waves her away, “They have the fancy hats, true, but the dirt stains on the hems of their robes tend to diminish the look. Have fun getting prettied up, but don't forget we have a five thousand mile sea voyage ahead of us, so store anything you don't wand damaged by sea winds.”

Blue leads Candle deeper into the isles, away from Job and the other patrons scattered around the store.

“Five thousand miles? That's almost six weeks of travel! And for only a gold piece each? I'd have thought a trip such as that would cost five hundred gold easily. And your Mount thrice that.”

Candle shook her head, “the cost of ship travel has come down a lot, and the speed has gone up. We'll be in Trebor in just over two weeks after we leave port. Might be a bit more per head for decent quarters, and without the discount for assisting in the defense of the ship if needed, but not too much more. Steam power has changed a lot of things, and looks to keep on doing so.”

“So a steam ship can do fifteen knots?”

“Merchant ships only do between ten and twelve, though they could do fifteen at a sprint. Warships are already pushing twenty knots, give or take. And all of them don't care about the wind direction. At least until a storm blows up and they have to slow down some. So that's ten to twelve knots, day in and day out, for two hundred and seventy six to three hundred and thirty one miles in a single day. But enough nautical nonsense, we're here to go clothes shopping!”

Blues rolls her eyes, “if I knew the first thing about the current fashions, I might find this enjoyable. Instead I have to guess. And I'll invariably guess wrong and make a fool of myself in the Athiem courts.”

“Ah, common, don't be so morose! Screw local fashion and make your own! It always worked for me.”

Blue winces at Candle's enthusiasm, “You can just become a wanderer, I'm planning to live in Althiem and join the court there. I can't show up in rags. Nor in an inferior outfit.”

“Then what about breaking out the old Silithid Empire court styles?”

Blue shakes her head, “I am not a priestess of that court anymore. Wearing those robes would be foolishness of the highest order, perhaps the second or third most foolish thing that I have ever done in my life.”

Candle nodded in agreement, “And the one large silithid community in the world is in Trebor. If no one else remembered the Empire Priesthood, they would. But what about the dresses of the other ladies of the court?”

“I admit, I never did pay much attention to their clothing. I was too busy looking for hidden daggers. And I don't exactly trust you to recall them accurately either: you loved to dress in commoners clothing.”

“Why not? I wasn't part of the court, and they were comfortable and practicable. You'll probably want a peplos for travel clothes anyway, given how you move and fight.”

“Mmh, that is a consideration indeed. And one that should be true for my chosen 'court' apparel as well. Blouse and dhoti, blue of course, with embroidery. What do you think?”

Candle chuckles, “I think that you are going to be quite tanned in short order. The silithids tend to the same style last I checked, although the dhoti is amended on occasion by the few of their more... serpentine members.”

“So that form does still persist?”

“Yes, as do the wings and multiple arms, though they are incredibly rare. Usually only seen on Clerics and Paladins of the silithid trinity, and on the few ex-Branded.”

Blue frowns in frustration, “hmm, so the old theory of those forms being something of a divine blessing seems to be proven.”

“And disproven too, given that it tends to pop up more commonly in half-silithids more then pure-blooded silithids. The old ascension rites are long abandoned, forbidden by taboo, so they are not the source of those... adaptations. Instead it seems to be linked to advancement within an individual's Class, though divine favor, or at lease approval, does seem to play a part.”

Blue shakes her head, “if what you say is true, then there is little wonder that I never gained any of those adaptations during my ascension rites in my previous life. Only the scales and the fangs. But that is eight hundred and ten years dead last I checked, so to the depth of the nine hells with it. I don't see any dhoti here, nor any blouses that suit my needs. You say that they have bolts of cloth for sale?”

“Yes, in the back by the sign for the tailor's service.”

“Then I hope that they have threads and clothier's tools. I think that I will prefer to sew my own court outfits. Sewing and embroidery were some of the few things that I rather enjoyed doing despite their necessity back in the day. Assassination attempts were terribly vexatious. But what about yourself? A peplos won't work with a tail.”

“It could, if I wanted to pin my tail to my legs. Ugh, no thank you. Dhoti and blouse may work for you, but for my casual apparel... nine hells with it, chestwrap, sandals, and a short skirt.”

Blues eyes opened at the last decision, “being a bit daring are we?”

“I have fur and I want to be comfortable. I also need a holy symbol.”

“Why?”

Candle rolls her eyes to the ceiling, “Paladin.”

“Oh, right. What's the symbol.”

“An open eye. Could be worse I guess.”

Blue winced,“could be an actual skeletal hand holding silver scales.”

“True. Which one was that again?”

“The Shadowed Heart. A minor Ascended Outsider, Domains of Undeath, Dominion, and Shadow.”

“Oh, that's her name. Wonder if the necromancer we almost caught on Carrion Road...?”

“Possible. Probably also not a problem. They lost all their minions, their weapon, and fled.”

Candle's tail twitches anxiously, “ehh, necromantic minions tend to be disposable. A quick trip to a graveyard, a Mold Earth cantrip, and you've a new skeleton to work with. They could have even pieced together old Ironbark Company bones if they found enough. It's only been forty years, they are still intact enough for spellwork.”

Blue runs her hand over a bolt of shy-blue mageweave, “Carrion road, and its necromancer, is behind us. Help me pick out a color that will match my eyes here.”

- - . - - . . . - - -

Job Arseoth hums as he wanders the displays of Elci's of Chedal. Despite the need to replace his clothing, shredded as it was by the Armageddon Reef fiasco and worn out form far too much travel, Job was a bit excited. He had taken the chance at the Guild to dispose of his battered quarterstaff, top up on travel rations, and acquire a set of ten ivory blanks for carving. It had cost him a total of seven gold, but job considers that coin well spent, as it was ten more memories he could add to his . Job already had plans for the first figurine: a wave breaking over stone, encapsulating the entire Armageddon Reef disaster. Reminded of his , Job runs his hand over its pouch and recalls his friends. Job wishes that he could send a Message cantrip to let them know that he was returning, but it wouldn't carry the distance. He shrugs and decides to pick a set of clothes that they will recognize him by.

The travel clothes section yields up a pair of study yellow leather boots, a pair of brown pants festooned with pockets, and a comfortable shirt with sleeves that only comes to the middle of his biceps. Job nods in satisfaction, then adds on a forest green water-proof rain cloak. The materials are only common leather and cloth, but Job prefers it that way.

Travel outfit selected, he heads for the caster robes section. Along the way Job picks up a pair of soft gray silk pants, sadly without any pockets, and a pair of shiny black leather boots. Satisfied, Job browses for a purple robe. He hopes that he can find a robe similar to the one he wore for Enra's sister's wedding, but finds one better. It's the same deep royal purple, but the brass dragons on the back are in in the process of taking wing instead of clinging to the shoulders. The mageweave features subtle gold thread flames at cuffs, hem, and hood. Most importantly, the robe has a set of interior pockets and is waterproofed.

“Jackpot. Let's just check the price tags... seventeen gold for the lot? Ah, no existing enchantments, that's why. Still perfectly suitable.”

- - . - - . . . - - -

Date: Second of July, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: Chedal Docks.

Job Arseoth frowned as he looked over the ships in the port. Three flew the Althiem flag: a pair of bulk cargo haulers with their slab sided boxy hulls and a sleek-looking naval escort. It was high-prowed and low slung with four steam-stacks and four of the the 4 inch pedestal-mounted cannon Job had seen briefly before leaving Trebor four months ago. It was also as small as a dwarf next to a warhorse compared to the cargo ships.

Blue tugs on Job's sleeve, “Job, what the hell are those metal things floating out there?”

“Steam ships. The boxy ones are cargo ships, capable of hauling a bit over ten thousand tons of stuff. I've taken passage on one of them before. I was hoping the SS Red Oak would be in port, but no luck there. The smaller one is a Royal Althiem Navy ship. That one is from a new class, less than three years old, but the design of their cannons is almost as old as I am. The cargo ships are probably taking passengers, and I'd wager one of them is headed back to Althiem. The RAN ship... I'm not sure where she is headed.”

Blues eyes are huge, “ten thousand tons of cargo? What in the nine hells... the largest ship I've ever seen could only carry two thousand tons. And over half of that was food! Those things can make it for here to Althiem in two weeks without a single sail? And burdened down by all that weight?”

Candle chuckled, “meet the power of steam. I've only been able to gather rumors about Althiem's new naval construction, but they can go two or three times as fast as merchant cargo ships."

Blue shook her head in disbelief, “I don't see any cannon on her, how do you know she mounts four?”

Job pointed, “one there, on the bow. Another there, at the stern. And the last pair are on the broadsides, one each at the back of the raised prow just there. The venerable RAN four inch fifty calibers rifled breach loading cannon.”

“Only four cannon on a ship of the line?”

Job looks at the RAN ship, then at the cargo ships, then at Blue. “She's an escort. The old sailing ship name for the same role would be 'sloop' if I'm recalling my history correctly.”

Candle points to a spot further down the escort's side.

“She could carry more guns, but the RAN is experimenting with something new. Self-propelled underwater mines. It lets escorts like this one pack a surprising punch if they hit. Think we could get passage on her?”

Job shrugs, “probably not. Civilians on a military ship?”

“Althiem nationals returning home after a natural disaster isn't reason enough?”

“We'd get pointed to the Guild's Teleportation Circles or to a merchant ship headed that way.”

Blue sniffs the air and begins to casually wander towards a stack of dockside crates and the gray robed figure sitting on them.

Job eyes Blue's 'amble', recognizing the casual motion of someone arranging an 'accidental' meeting that is, of course, not accidental at all.

“Blue?”

“Thought I smelled something familiar...”