The Seawell Curse has started at Outside Arx - Lyceum near Nilanza - Small Islands off the East Coast of the Lyceum.

Last time: After receiving a lead about a tribe of shav's that desired help with a medical problem you arrived on the island occupied by the Redbeech tribe. After receiving a welcome, and investigating the situation, you determined that the cause was some kind of poison. As the poison takes time to reach a high enough dose to cause the levels of sickness seen, and because it effected the livestock first, it was decided that the cause is somewhere in the environment but you are not yet sure where that is. During the investigation you also discovered that many of the tribe members believe it to be down to a curse Rodal Seawell, the head of a neighbouring tribe, cast at a wedding several decades ago. Sceptical some of the group investigated the plausibility of it being down to sabotage rather than an actual curse and discovered evidence that someone has, in the recent weeks, been secretly sailing to the Redbeech island, but right now have no more clues. The day ended when the light ran out and you retreated to the cottage granted for your use to spend the night.

This episode: The day dawns grey and cloudy with rainclouds looming on the horizon. Despite this suggestion of ill weather to come the crew of Thea's ship, the Seas the Day, seem happy to be gathering ropes and sail in preparation for the coming hop across to the island of the Seawell tribe.

Haakon made a point of mentioning to Thea, "If we'd taken a *Longship*, we could have run right up on the beach, without any of this 'take a boat to board a ship to cross the straits, so we can get on the small boat again and row to shore' shit," as the merry band took their launch to the Seawell lands.

Drake doesn't know very much about the different boats. He's just kind of happy to be a part of all this. He still has a slightly bruised eye from losing a fight yesterday to a thrashing patient. And the salty sea air and its edge of rain chill is doing the bruise a bit of good, really. At least he got a little rest as he disembarks onto the Seawell lands... though he certainly at the moment wishes it were more.

"Aw, I though you /liked/ boarding," Neilda says sidelong to Haakon, grinning.

Thea shifts her gold-flecked green eyes to Haakon, muttering,"I'm shoving you fucking overboard. You can swim home." Take THAT HAAKON! The Malvici steps over to make sure she has everything before boarding the smaller boat, snorting at Neilda. Thea then checks on the rest of the group, double checking,"You all have everything?"

Akamos is beside himself with joy. On a boat, on an adventure, this is exactly what he signed up for. "This big boat is a lot fancier than I'm used to!" He seems happy to get stuck in and help the crew with their necessary preparations, even if it is mostly carrying heavy stuff here and there. He's got confident sea legs, and is clearly comfortable on the water.

Medeia eyes Neilda with a slight shake of her head as she double checks her satchel and then eyes Thea. It's gonna be one of /those/ days, apparently. "I think I'm good."

Desma is a morning person, so it's no surprise that she's bright-eyed and full of energy as she shimmies down the ropes into the smaller boat and helps working with getting them all to shore. She wears her dark leathers, her hair bound into one long dark braid that falls down the centre of her back. "Thea! Don't be so horrible to Haakon! And yes... I have everything." Splinter, having travelled much of the crossing in the rigging of ship, now circles overhead the small party, a black dot against the skies.

Haakon sniffs in dry humor to Neilda, "I like boarding we enough when there's a fight and plus der to be had after boarding. Without that, what's the purpose, aye?" A low chuckle rumbles in his throat at Thea's rebuttal. A short nod, and he's ready. Armor donned, shield on his back, harpoon in hand, he'll hop over the side into the shallows to help run the boat up onto the beach. "Aye Thea, stop being horrible," he paraphrases Desma.

The Seawell tribes island is roughly the same size as the one occupied by the Redbeech only with less arable land and more beach. The fishermen spot you from quite a distance out, as you would expect, but unlike the Redbeech, who welcomed you, this tribe seems far more suspicious. By the time you get close to landing most of them have already vanished deeper into the waters. The harbour here is in a lagoon cut off from the rest of the ocean by a spit of sandy land which actually enables you to get a good distance in before you need to change from the Cog to smaller boats in order to land. Its on this approach that you spy the reason that the Seawell tribe have their name. At the point where the spit joins the island proper a curve of rock has been hiding a deep sinkhole. Who knows what might be hiding down there.

You also find half a dozen leather and spear clad men and women and three archers waiting for you on the beach. Suspicion etched on their sun-darkened faces.

Neilda just squints at Haakon and goes about sailing, then - when hostile shavs are spotted, offers: "Ask and you shall receive." She won't be boarding with that axe, but she checks that it's at her hip anyway, and patiently waits for diplomacy work, which she may have learned at some point is preferable to lead with, itchy as she can be.

Desma shields her eyes with her hand, and squints towards the villagers waiting for them. "Well that's an unwelcoming looking welcome party if ever I saw one. Her own bow is strung and ready for use, worn strung upon her back, and her xiphos is sheathed in its scabbard, easily reached should occasion call for it. She's not going to push herself forward to make the first move however, not when there's better diplomats than her in the part. In fact, she quite the un-diplomat, or so she's been told.

There's a squint at Desma then at Haakon. "You both are the list. I'm taking the twins instead,"tying up her belongings. Kopis? Check. Dagger? Check. When shavs are spotted, she's a bit relieved she's relieved she has both. "Deia, I think it's safe to say if you need backup, we got you." Since you know, sometimes violence isn't always the way. Thea WILL however be braced, awaiting if needed.

Once Haakon has the smaller boat settled, Medeia holds a hand out to still the rest of the group and disembarks. With a polite smile and her hands uot, empty, she steps forward just enough to greet the 'welcoming' party at a conversational distance. "Hello, I'm Medeia, a medic. My friends and I are looking into an illness. We were hoping we might be able to speak with Rodal Seawell to learn more." She keeps it simple, for now.

Akamos rolls his shoulders and shakes out his arms. Is he limbering up for a swim or a fight? Yes is the answer. Over his shoulders loom the handles of his oversized weapons. He hasn't drawn them yet, but they're there. Unlike when he's around the city, he has his long black hair tied back with leather. It's business time. Until he's needed though, he'll help with mooring the skiffs, which he does seem to be good at. Practice.

Drake has his sword at the ready, obviously, if it comes to a fight. But he'd rather not kill any today or deal with the possibility of arrows fired in his own direction if he can possibly help it. He's not far behind Medeia, and clearly armed, but he's also not terribly intimidating by presence alone, at least with his helm off. He does his best to look friendly while the lady speaks.

Haakon is just the sort of figure a native might be worried to see land on their beach: heavily armed and maille clad, he is every inch the Mourning Isles reaver as he moves a step beside and behind Medeia. So. Not here to START a fight.

Neilda also hangs back; that's a lot of armor, even if the dimples start and end fights independently of her actions.

For every step that Medeia takes more of those suspicious eyes focus onto her until all but one of them is watching her. The other, an older archer with the scars that suggest he might actually have seen combat, wisely keeps his eyes on the scarier guys behind her. A young man, barely in his twenties, seems to be the leader of this mob because they all wait for him to talk. "We not sick. We not trade. Go away."

Drake takes a couple steps forward - yeah, he's armored, but he's friendly and breezy. He doesn't speak the local language and so his attempt to communicate may come across as kind of naive but he's obviously giving it a shot anyway. "Ah, no, hey, we aren't here to trade, just looking in to some local contaminations we heard there were signs of. We aren't here to, ah, slaughter you, or anything, so this greeting party seems a tad aggressive." He's not going to get in the way of anyone else speaking, but if something hostile happens he wants to be in front.

Akamos is aware that he's a fairly imposing figure, so he's mostly keeping the shallows, busying himself with boat stuff, and trying not to loom. He reckons he's in good flanking distance if he needs to make a mad dash. Until then though, it's just smiling and nodding as the talky people do their thing. Smile and nod.

Scanning the group quickly before meeting the eyes of the younger leader-sort, Medeia keeps her expression as pleasant as possible. When Drake steps forward, her eyes widen a smidge, but she lets him speak for a moment before reaching a hand out to gently place her fingertips on his upper arm and encourage him to step back. "Please," she says, as much to Drake as to the 'welcoming party,' "I believe your chief would want to hear about the situation, and may have vital information. We mean no harm. Perhaps you would admit just a few of us?"

Haakon waits quietly for the Shav to respond to Medeia. He holds his own words to see if the locals bend.

Oh fine. Neilda smiles, full dimples. NOT THREATENING, see? She does not have the subtlety to avoid a pained look darted at her sister at the suggestion of sending /just a few of them/ into hostile territory.

Slaughter. Such an innocent word when taken in context. Not the greatest choice when dealing with people who don't quite share the same language. Three of them start talking all at once. One even goes so far as to gesture with spear in hand towards them. The old one studies Drake. The young one listens to Medeia for a few moments before snapping irritably at those in his party for silence. Some of them visibly sulk but they all obey. "Just you." the young leader says begrudgingly. "Tie weapons. Crew we kill if leave boat."

Desma remains in the shallows fairly close to where Akamos is. Being an archer first and foremost, she doesn't exactly need to be close to her targets and she'll be able to hop onto the prow of the rowboat for a better view should things erupt. Her focus is steady as she watches the interactions, and scowls when the leader indicates that only Medeia will be spoken with.

Thea just stands there, dressed in all her red leathers finery. Her medical supplies close to her hip. Does she look imposing? Possibly. Maybe. Lifting her eyebrow a touch at the young leader, Thea says nothing. She does assure him with a tight smile,"They will remain."

Drake finds the terms of peacebond perfectly acceptable here, but his house blade, which he does carry on any mission where something strange might happen, IS a strange one, and he has to do the ties himself. He doesn't hold back on doing so however, if it will smooth matters over.

Neilda grumbles something inaudible and darts a look to Drake, but looks like she'll comply with the peacebond thing if that's the way the wind is blowing - wind direction weirdly determined by Medeia, at the moment.

Medeia nods agreeably. "Thank you," she says, turning to look at everyone in her group, ensuring agreement. "We accept those terms."

Haakon gives a small nod to the Shav's decision, and rumbles, "Good choice." Aside to Thea, he advises, "Tell your crew to kill any who try to board the ship."

Desma realises with not a little relief that the whole of the landing party was included in the 'just you', so sets to quickly binding her weapons so they can't easily be drawn. Bonding in place she splashes through the shallows and joins the main body of their party.

Akamos doesn't have much difficulty binding his broadsword. The trident he has a little more issue with, since it's not like it has a sheath. Nevertheless he is able to secure it to its lashing with some leather. After which he takes off his helmet, since he's sure that with the plume and the face covering it looks far more menacing with it on

"You act like they don't already know that,"Thea smirks aside at Haakon. Glancing over at Neilda and Desma, the two she KNOWS are probably getting antsy, she offers them a slight grin. "Desma, your bird doing alright? I don't want it to get shot with some random arrow...,"sounding a bit concerned for her cousins feathered child.

Desma eyes Thea. "Splinter knows enough to keep out of the way. Until he's needed, that is. He's cleverer than a LOT of people I know."

Closer inspection of the guards suggests that they may not actually be guards at all. Only two of them have armor that seems to actually come from the same set and most of them dont seem to know not to stare. Eventually the young man gives a grunt of begrudging approval at the peacebonds and gestures for everyone to follow him. The rest of the guards soon fall away as they come into a village not dissimilar from the one they just left. Its basically just a huddle of stone cottages around a central well with the largest building serving a double purpose as home and meeting hall. He knocks, ducks inside, and then gestures for you all to follow through a low doorway that will knock half of the group unconscious if they forget to duck. Inside the hall is dark but for the light of three oil lamps and unoccupied by anyone except for an older man with one of those narrow faces most uncharitably described as weasel-like. Crisp words are shared between the youth whocould be the elders grandson or nephew and the leader himself before the younger man sneers and exits.

There is silence for a long moment and then the old man asks "What do you want?"

Haakon gives a tight grin aside to Thea with a snort. "Lycene ship. Mayhap they'd try to.. throw a party or some shit." He moves along with the band to stand before the old man, once again leaving words to the fairer speakers.

How do you even peacebind? Neilda doesn't particularly seem to know the right way to do it, given the number of knots she puts on her dang axe. Maybe it's just not her thing. She mutters darkly, which does seem to be her thing.

Ducking is also her thing. At least she noticed that low doorway. She folds her arms and tries not to tap her toe in impatience while she occupies herself with studying the way in, the layout, the environment, the people. Having done such a bang-up job tying up her weapon, she embraces her new role as Noticer of Things.

Drake stops for a moment... thinking, while he's peacebonding, thoughtful suddenly about his sword as he remembers to tie it. But whatever struck him, he doesn't necessarily mention. As he walks up following the rest, now he keeps quiet. His duty as a bodyguard may not be useful here but his presence still carries enough weight - it might take a second longer but he could fight back if he had to. Fortunately, he doesn't neglect to duck, dipping under the awning. He's already gotten one foolish injury from all this, best avoid another.

Neilda checks perception and alchemy at easy. Neilda is marginally successful.

Neilda checks perception and occult at hard. Neilda marginally fails.

Tying all the knots, peacefully. Peaceknots, GET IT? Moving on, Thea follows the others, eyes habitually checking her surroundings.

Desma follows the rest of the others through the village, taking note of the various landmarks and the layout of the place, then ducks through the doorway into the meeting hall. She gives her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmed interior then moves to one side, lurking in one of the darker shadows with her hands knotted in the small of her back.

Akamos is well used to ducking through doorways, once inside he smiles wide and broad, "Nice place you have! It's cozy." Instictively he finds himself drawn over toward the fireplace, where he quite literally sniffs around. He's always hungry.

Stepping easily through the door, Medeia cuts a very non-threatening figure as she approaches the older man. She gives a slight curtsy of greeting. "Rodal Seawell? I am Harlequin Medeia Saik, a medic and midwife. My friends and I are investigating an illness affecting the Redbeech tribe nearby." She quickly introduces the group, motioning to each as she mentions them. "General THea Malvici, Lady Neilda Saik, Lady Desma Magnotta, Lord Haakon Eswynd, Lord Drake Wyvernheart, and Akamos Cyrto'ani." Another gesture back to Thea. "If you would be so kind as to hear about the illness, Thea can tell you more." Her hands come up in a peaceful, open gesture. "I know that relations between Seawell and Redbeech are tense, but I believe you might be able to help us."

After Medeia finishes talking Rodal's eyes swivel to Thea.

Neilda does manage not to tap her foot, but it is by pacing instead. Not a lot of room for that; she puffs, murmurs something sidelong to Medeia. Can she be quiet? Probably quiet enough not to disturb Thea's recounting of the illness at least. Maybe it's something like 'this is a giant waste of time' or 'why'd we have to peace-tie our stuff' or 'how do you say eye-strain in shav'. Probably... none of those. Probably she noticed something. But she has the aura of annoyance anyway, probably because she screwed up tying her axe.

Thea nods her head to Rodal in a respectful way, trying to keep the peace. Until she has speak. Right, well--clearing her throat, she begins. "Right well, I was able to spend time with,"glancing over to Drake, dipping her chin toward the Wyvernheart,"Lord Drake there, with many of the sick. At the sickhouse. I do believe it is poison, but it's a poison that is--building up over time." There's a politeness to her demeanor as she continues,"It hit's the smallest worse, the sympotms growing worse over time." Thea watches the man steady, her eyes unwavering,"I do NOT believe it is any sort of curse, but I DO believe it is something in the ground. I was able to ease their pain a bit, to slow the process before I left, buying them time. But I'm afraid it isn't a cure. It'll just continue until the source of the poisoning can be found."

Drake gives a bow when introduced, and then finds himself a seat for now just out of the way of the conversation. He's listening carefully, though. When Thea calls his name, he gives a little wave. "They thrash around a bit," he adds, his tone level. "Honestly... it's hard to watch."

Rodal's eyes narrow with suspicion. "What does this have to do with me?"

Haakon draws a slow breath through flared nostrils as he eyes the old Shav chieftain. When he speaks on the heels of Thea's words, it is in his Island Shav tongue and it in the tone of one who is saying 'the sky is blue'. "Before you answer them in their tongue, hear this.. I know how you survive against the Arvani: you avoid being noticed. You keep to your waters, when their fleets move through you hide, or flee. You survive by being left alone. By not getting so big or troublesome that they have to notice you." A slow breath drawn. "These fancy ladies have come for a cure to what ails the folk across the water. Goddess only knows why they care, but there you have it. I don't give a dead pig's shit for why this poison is afflicting them, or why the Arvani care. But you've been noticed, now. Pretty it up however you need to, deny whatever you need deny, but get the ladies what they want.. or there will be more Arvani ships coming than you can count shells on your shores. And we both know what happens to you and yours, then."


*** Haakon has called for an opposing check with Pasquale. ***
Haakon checks command and leadership at easy. Haakon is successful.
Pasquale checks charm and manipulation at easy. Pasquale is marginally successful.
*** Haakon is the winner. ***

After Haakon has finished talking Rodal looks as if he just took a bite of something extremely bitter and unpleasant. This time when he turns his attention back to Thea its with slightly more respect. "My people are not healers."

Akamos continues his hungry poke around the kitchen, not being so rude as to make himself something, but just curious as to what these islanders eat. Or perhaps don't eat. Anything in their food habits that seems a little bit strange maybe. Or perhaps just looking for recipe inspiration.

Drake has no idea what Haakon just said exactly, maybe a word here or there, but the tone of it sounded cool and intimidating, so it was probably something cool and intimidating. He decides to address what the man said to Thea, instead. "Right, well, we have two great healers here, and the problem is that they seem to have traced the source of the illness to some kind of contamination that they sourced here. Is that right?" He looks at Thea again. "I'm not too understanding of the particulars, but I guess if a taint gets into the grasses and food and so-on, it can cause an illness, and there's always the possiblity, it might spread to your people as well. We'd like to prevent that. Of course the... possibility did occur to us that it was the result of some more deliberate sabotage, but if so, we assume you aren't the one responsible."

They seem to prepare there food at the central firepit within an iron cauldrom that sits there. There are some pots around which seem to contain ground meal, herbs, and the like and a paste that smells very strongly of fish. Rodal stares at Akamos for as long as he's poking around the central fire but hisses a low. "Respect my privacy" when he tries to move away towards the curtained off areas at the back.

Thea actually looks to Haakon and THANKS HIM with a nod of her head before looking back to Rodal. "Lucky for you, you have two in this group that are willing to help you. Myself and Lady Medeia,"her hand gesturing toward the lady herself. Basically--she just confirmed everything Drake said.


*** Drake has called for an opposing check with Pasquale. ***
Drake checks charm and diplomacy at easy. Drake is successful.
Pasquale checks charm and manipulation at easy. Pasquale is successful.
*** The rolls are tied. ***

After Drakes harsh words, Rodal glares at him. "Deliberate sabotage." he repeats slowly and bitterly. "Why would we care what happens to the Redbeech?"

Desma cocks her head to one side, and pushes herself away from the post that she'd been leaning against. She wanders Thea's way and whispers something quietly in her ear.

At Neilda's muttered words, Medeia slowly turns to scan the dimly lit space - focusing her attention on a specific point briefly in the purposely-made-to-seem-innocuous motion. If she noticed anything amiss from what Neilda mentioned, it wasn't enough to bring comment. Her gaze lands on Haakon as he speaks, her brow creasing before looking at Drake, brow creasing further. When Thea motions at her, she looks back to Rodal. She doesn't quite manage to stifle the sigh that passes her lips. "Why should you? They are your closest neighbors. They /should/ be your closest allies. Trade, defense, and so on. Your rivalry? It harms you both." Her eyes meet the man's, expression just containing her exasperation. "You know, I'm sure, that they think you've cursed them. Perhaps you did. Though, I suspect this has a more mundane explanation." Her eyes dart back to Haakon. "Whatever threat he issued? It needn't come to pass. Help us help them, and we leave."

Desma grumbles at Thea's response to her. "You know I'm bad at diplomacy." Then turns to listen to what Medeia says, a frown creasing her brow.


*** Medeia has called for an opposing check with Pasquale. ***
Medeia checks charm and diplomacy at easy. Medeia is successful.
Pasquale checks charm and manipulation at easy. Pasquale is successful.
*** Medeia is the winner. ***

Rodal's eyes swivel between the two big heavily armored men who both made a point of dropping their threats in ways both subtle and not before he looks back to Medeia with a twist of his mouth. "And what if I do know something about this curse. What do I get for helping you?"

Neilda's eyes - in a demonstration of her lack of restraint - tick upwards, upwards, upwards, like at each degree of the florid eye-roll she is trying to stop the thing from happening. Nothing for it. "Why I don't try," she says sidelong to Drake. A flash of a smile, suddenly, and she adds: "Let's try the kind you're good at later." Fistplomacy.

Akamos drifts closer to Desma, as he was rather disappointed by the cooking area, and mutters to her quietly.

Akamos mutters, "If I cause a distraction, ... you think you could slip through ... curtains ... see what he's ... ... ..."

Thea blinks at Rodal, her signature eyebrow lifting. SERIOUSLY, did he JUST say that?! Murmuring a response to Medeia first then smirking at Desma, she nods subtly,"Neither" Thea glances over to Drake as well---"

Drake completely and totally misunderstands what Nielda is getting at there. He looks at her, then back at Rodal, then back at Neilda again. "Oh, he's not my type, really." Pause. "Oh. Oh you meant with fighting. No I definitely promised I wouldn't do that this time. Tied my sword and everything." (He's being perhaps slightly deliberately annoying now as he picked up on some other muttered conversation.)

After hearing a whisper from Thea, Neilda's mouth twists, and she whispers something back, which may or may not be, "Uh, shav? And weaselly-looking? And probably poisoning them himself, he's hiding gear behind the curtain." But it's definitely a whisper. She gives Drake the flattest look, like he has 2000% missed the point.

Akamos wanders back to the food preparation area and seems to trip on something, a big boot caught on flagstone and over he topples crashing into the pots and cauldron, having to roll to save himself from landing on the hot fire, causing quite the ruckus. Very quickly, and from a prone position on the floor he calls out in a loud voice, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Just very clumsy! Oh deary me, oh I am sorry. Sorry! My mistake!"

Desma has worked her way around the edge of the room towards the curtained off area. She waits for Akamos to fall over and cause a distraction, then flips the edge of the curtain enough to slip beyond it. Hopefully Rodal's attention will be pulled to the other side of the room, he seemed touchy about his personal space before.

Akamos' planned distraction has the exact effect he desired, Rodal looks at him, and whilst Rodal is looking at her companion Desma dives into the private area. This brings Rodal to his feet with an angry "What are you doing!" but theres little he can do to stop a woman fourty years younger than him from rummaging through his things.

As Neilda guessed earlier on there is an alchemical lab in there. It will take a little while for Desma to completely search the area but he certainly has the means to make all kinds of interesting substances.

An interesting library too.

Distracted by the motion of her cousin--who is usually ALWAYS up to something, even if it IS quietly, Thea starts to silently follow her lead. Who said she was much better? She slips in with Desma, hopefully undetected.

Since everyone is sort of... moving around the space, Neilda - arms still crossed - ambles toward the way into the room, just in case the shouts drew angry looky-lous.

Drake springs to his feet as the old man also gets to his feet. If he has to hold him back, he will... after all he just promised he wouldn't use his SWORD, but his hands still work fine. While the ladies decide to disrespect the old man's privacy, he can keep him occupied if necessary.

With the suspicious lab found through Neilda, Thea, Akamos and Desma's investigation, backed up by threats both obvious and subtle from Drake and Haakon, its obvious to Rodal that they think he is, in some part, responsible for the Redbeech' situation. Its earlier Medeia's mention of the curse that ends up giving him something to grasp onto. "Ok. Yes." He says with cunning anger sparking in his pale eyes. "I know how you can end it. Bring me my journal and I will explain."

He sits in his chair again, somehow seeming as if this was all his idea and not something he was forced into. "You will need to make a potion and bring it to me so that the ritual can be conducted." Those too-clever eyes search their faces, looking to see if they bite.

Desma doesn't know the back end of an alchemical lab from the back end of a donkey, but she does have the trained eye of a soldier. She rifles through piles of notes in Shav, and sniffs cautiously at things in pots, but it means very little to her beyond the fact that Rodal's an alchemist. She's leafing through a book as Thea joins her. "Thank goodness you're here."She catches what Rodal says about a journal and looks at the book in her hands. "I've got it!" she calls. She thrusts it at Thea. "Hope you can understand it. I certainly can't." Back out through the curtain she goes.

Akamos and Desma's distractions have Medeia's eyes open wide and she steps back as Rodal rises to his feet. She's less than thrilled at the way the last few moments have gone. However, she's not about to argue with effectiveness when the man reclaims his seat and offers some sort of solution. "Explain? Yes. Do that." She'll listen, and make notes about the potion, wondering if any of the herbs she found the day before might help.

Neilda looks back over her shoulder, and maybe she should roll with it, but she shrugs expressively, arms unfolding to flare hands. "So. What. We're just... buying this whole potion thing? Like, if he wanted to cure them, he could cook it up himself, couldn't he?" She may not be a genius of social graces, but that doesn't add up.

Inside the journal is a recipe that any alchemist could make, assuming they have the right facilities. Five of the ingredients stand out as things that aren't immediately available:

A blossom blue birthed in a field of ice beneath the griffons shadow
A living stone branch from the well of dreams.
A hundred stamen from a flower purple
Powder from a hundred sheeps foot beetles
Essence of forget-me-not


*** Drake has called for an opposing check with Pasquale. ***
Drake checks perception and manipulation at easy. Drake is successful.
Pasquale checks charm and manipulation at easy. Pasquale is spectacularly successful.
*** Pasquale is the winner. ***

Drake seems skeptical of the old man's words, at first. Is there some agenda he's hiding? But.... the whole thing seems pretty plausible, and the alchemists know better than he does about cures and things, so he decides he will go with this, after a moment of pause.

Thea is in the lab, reading from the journal. She lifts her eyebrow a bit at the ingredient list, lips thinning. Closing the journal, she discreetly slips it into her satchel, silently slipping out from behind the curtain.

Akamos sees the curtain twitch in the distance and manages to flail himself upright. For someone who seems steady on his feet he sure is managing to make quite a scene from this tumble, "Oogt, I am so sorry, like a bull in a pot factory I am, goodness me. Oh, I do hope I didn't break anything. Goodness gracious me."

Desma walks across the hut to Rodal and hunkers down easily before him, putting herself on the same level as him. "Forgive us our intrusion here, and our invasion of your privacy. When we were in Redbeech, we met with an Elder. Bevelle was her name. She spoke of how you and she were very much in love when young, but how things changed. She speaks your name with a sadness in he eyes, and this curse, this illness, eventually will kill her too. For what you and she once were to each other, will you be truthful as to what it is that ails her clan?"

Rodal turns a sullen look onto Desma. "You got your cure already. Now get out!"

Drake, already on his feet, says, "Well, right. Let's get to flower-picking and bug collection then. That Water of Life I've probably had enough of already to last a lifetime. But a blue blossom, I can probably find that."

Neilda checks perception and investigation at hard. Neilda is successful.

Drake checks intellect and agriculture at normal. Drake is marginally successful.

Thea climbs to her feet, wandering about that journal,"Wonder if there's a map where some of these--items are."

Well, THea doesn't necissarily climb to her feet, she's BEEN on her feet. She more starts to step toward the door.

Desma who doesn't have a romantic bone in her body, realises that Rodal also doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. She snake-eyes him with her fingers; pointing first to her own and then to his, before turning to duck out of the hut in the wake of the others.

Medeia looks... disappointed, or miffed, or just generally kind of... off. She had hoped to pull the story from the Seawell chief, and so upon realizing that won't happen, she inclines her head to the man and retreats from the building. She heads back to the shore, and since she seems to be out ahead of the others, she moves to look at the well that caught her attention when they first landed.

Drake has a bit of insight as they head out. "That sheep's foot ... that's a type of plant that grows near sheep... so, we'd be more likely to find it on the other island." Perhaps Richard's gardening lessons are starting to rub off on Drake a little.

Akamos leaves with an apologetic smile at Rodal, that probably falls quite flat. Outside the hut he dusts himself down, "Right. Sheep. If someone rounds them up I don't mind wrestling each shoop to get its foot beetles.

"I'm sure it's all on the level," Neilda mutters with absolute dissatisfaction, moving out and giving smiles to any islanders she passes that are not felt, but you know what: dimples tell lies. "I'm just gonna... go take a peek at their boats," she murmurs to those collected, swinging wide of the path back to their ship where hopefully the crew is neither dead nor cleaning their blades of a slaughter. She toes at one of the boats with rock scrapes, glances back toward Rodal's place. "Yeah," she says, like her diffuse suspicion has been confirmed. She doesn't actually elaborate on what it means to her - but she might be working that out a bit. Maybe while they sail, which is as close as she probably comes to meditating.

Neilda is overheard praising Pasquale.