Pathfinder Meeting

[rubyrubyruby]

The Hawsepipe Tavern usually caters to those that work at the Docks and ships that harbour there. It is well supplied in spirits and high caloric meals, with nothing getting too fancy. The menu is not high gastronomy but it doesn't pretend to it. The tavern and its back rooms have been rented out for a couple of days for the Pathfinder Corps. Staff has been retained and paid to slings drinks at the bar, cook up uncomplicated mass-quantity meals and keep a beady eye on the particular patronage. The tavern is usually given over to multiple scattered tables for waitstaff to rove between. Today these have been mostly pushed to the edge of the room. A set of four have been pushed together at the center and hold a large parchment map of Amber with spokes of sea routes and paths that lead (sometimes more aesthetically than accurately) to Golden Circle realms. The edges of the big parchment are weighed down by an assortment of knives and tankards. Objects sit on certain realms like monopoly pieces, and Ruby's bias towards the different GC realms is blatant.

Those entering will be welcomed by a scent of pipesmoke, alcohol and meats that have sazzle. The beams of the ceiling have been inundated by a blue haze of the aforementioned puff-puffs. There's no one to take hat or coat but plenty of places to hang or fling once out of the dockside weather. It's sporadically populated by perhaps two dozen other individuals.

Cela Eno, roving reporter for the Lower City Gazette, is in attendance tonight. Her membership with the RPC and intentions thereof may be suspect. Then again? Newshounds, like children and puppies, need no excuse. At least she is set up one or two tables away from the main attraction, which shows some restraint. She makes an attempt at waving excess smoke away even if it accomplishes nothing, then turns the wave into a friendly hail to various familiar personages as they put in an appearance.

Wynter steps inside from without, pulling back the wool coat that fends off the damp and chill from outside air with a small wince. She keeps heading deeper into the common room towards the spoken for tables and nods to the reporter as she takes a seat. Ruby is noted and nodded too in a nuetral sort of way.
She tilts the chair back on two legs just so, keeping balance and remaining comfy while waiting on a server to wander by. The smells within the place causing her stomach to growl despite it's normal fare. After so long on the seas and in shadow a normal meal seems most welcome.

While the knives and tankards holding the map down certainly are tempting, Clive opts to stay far, far away from the center of the room. Back in a corner closer to the entrance, the Minosian captain leans against the wall with a cigar between two fingers of a hand gripping an unlabeled bottle of rum. In between puffs on the cigar and tugs on the bottle, he reaches over for a sizable leg off of some manner of roasted bird.

Melina has only slightly more business here than cela might with a royal appointment to tout should anyone press, she is the diplomatic equivalent of a newshound. she makes some approach to the center as if drawn by sight of the map, but forces herself hang back a bit, taking note of others present

Cale is seated on the top of the back of one of the sturdy, well - used (and oft - abused) thick oaken chairs that accentuate the decor of The Hawsepipe Tavern, his knees drawn up beneath his elbows and his feet resting against the back of the chair itself. You'd imagine that to be a precarious or even an unstable perch, but Cale is managing okay. In fact, for him, it's got a number of distinct and worthy advantages. Being quite young, and small for his age, Cale's not outweighing the chair by much. Or at least not enough to tip it over, certainly. And the lofty perch does mitigate his shortcomings in terms of height. Allowing for a clearer vantage, which Cale, perforce, then puts to use. Cale cranes his neck to peer across the tables in the central area, scanning the sets of "monopoly pieces" and puzzling out the updates that they each might represent.

Ruby is covered up quite a bit. Usually more comfortable showing off a bunch of skin to advertise the scars and ink, she's gone conservative and obscures flesh. She wears a fresh set of about-town clothing. A vest worn over an understated blouse, thick belt about her waist, and comfortable leggings. It's really only her forearms and flesh from the neck up that is showing. Tattoos on her forearms have a melted look, and some have bled into each other.
The assortment of others masticate some sammiches and debate around pipe stems or croonchy pickles. Some appear to be Captains, and some appear rather well-travelled striders. Ruby pushes off from the bar after a stiff drink. As she approaches the big map-table, she grips central beams and the backs of chairs enroute. Wynter is given and searching gaze before she's trying to read the others in the room with too hasty a glance. She clears her throat and leans her knuckles on the parchment. "See some familiar faces, an see some less familiar. Tha's good." She raises a hand and lightning ba-bonks the tabletop with a set of knuckles. "I see some 'o you fortifyin yourself with drink an meat. Tha's good too. Because I gonna give out good news an bad news..." She knuckles the table again when the little clockwork nightmare clown figurine over Begma has a teensy bit of wind-up spring allow it to squeaka-sqreeee with half a goose-step. "...You wants tha good news or bad news first?"

Wynter gains hold of food and drink. A stew that looks like it's been simmering all day, thick and hearty. To drink a pale and wattered down ale sits before her. She give Ruby a nod and then can't help but a cough into her spoonful of food as the tall one speaks of 'good and bad' news.
The Pathian looks about the table to those gathered and raises a brow. "Does it mater which is which? I'd soon as have the bad first but that's just me."

"Oh! Good news, always first!" sings out Cela in ready opposition to Wynter. Her eyes are a little overbright, though, probably from the smoke, but also probably not. She has discretely laid her trusty notepad on her lap, raised with one leg crossed over the other. "That is my vote, if I have a vote. If there must be bad news to spoil the good, let it be in the aftertaste rather than the appetizer," she offers more gently with an encouraging smile for Ruby. So far, she seems intrigued by this newly self-conscious Ruby persona.

At the mention of drink and meat, Clive lifts his bottle up toward Ruby and then brings it right back in for another swig. A big bite of meat is taken and he's munching away on it as he snorts at the replies to the question posed. With the barest whisper of a grin present, he looks between Wynter and Cela. "'Spose most might want a chaser to follow the shot. All the same in the end, by me though." One more large bite finishes off what is left on the bone, which is then discarded onto a chair beside him. The hand gets a quick wipe on his pants before he takes up his cigar to renew that cloud of smoke about his person.

Melina hms i suppose the bad might require a bit more attention and thought. Best to do that before the drink shuts down the grey matter completely" she offers in a pragmatic even tone

"Bad news first, please." up - votes Cale, from his perch atop the oak chair. Always good to get the problems and the conflicts out there in the open so that they can get addressed as such. The things that require thinking and planning do well, in Cale's opinion, to be given exposure, giving time for thoughts and plans to develop while the "Good News" waits. No one plans much for those happier surprises. There is no need to, after all. Cale, for his part, also looks as if he might well have some more news of his own to share. He holds onto those longer thoughts, though, waiting his turn to speak and address those things in all due course.

It's possible that Martin may or may not have always been there, but in any case he's arrived just in time to hear the news. He lounges in the back for the moment, so as not to interrupt.

Ruby squints and tries to take in the preferences. After that dies down she lifts her chin and starts in. "Tha Cibolan path is stable again. Trade should be safe tah resume. Tha artery with Cibola be an important one for both it an Amber. There be some tha say it more than just brain-bendin medicinal ingredients or them giant bananarrrs. Some smarter femmes than meself say tha ~tether~ be good for Amber in all sorts 'o eso-teric ways. Way I see it, if Amber be a hub, an these paths be spokes, then tha wheel be made up 'o all these Golden Realms. If we want a smooth ride through all tha rubbish ~out there~ then tha wheel...circle...whatever, it'll need tah be in good workin order. Don't ask me what tha wheel be attached to or if there be a wagon because I'd rather kiss tha gunner's daughter than contemplate."
Ruby grunts. "After investigation, it seems tha Node got crippled by too much...traffic, in a short amount 'o time. Was bleedin out, see? An reflections 'o Cibola were getting ripples 'o this. 'Opefully now tha it be 'ealed so tah speak, tha will spread tah these other reflections an echos. This is a win. As we strive tah fix tha ~big three~ path problems an keep Amber safe an stable, this is an important start."
The tall woman reaches for the glass near Cibola and taps it against the notation of the Cibolan path with the bottom. She raises it up before her. "I 'ave some practical thanks tah 'and out tah each person individually, but for tha immediate 'ere an now... A toast tah all tha bravery, courage an endurance 'o those tha put in effort with tha bloody shadowpath. An those tha couldn't be 'ere, in recovery or beyond recuperation."

Clive gives one more nod at the end as Ruby gets going again. Stepping back away from this minor spotlight he pulls the bottle back in and lifts it for a long tug, disappearing back against the wall. A red hot ember lights up at the end of his cigar as he swaps between vices. Maybe he's mulling over the losses or perhaps it's the prospects of what is next being discussed that has a frown beginning to form.

Wynter makes no comment about the 'bad' news or is it the good in disguise? She simpley raises her brows. "Ripples?" But then nods. She is quick to reach for the cup of ale in front of her and raise it for the toast, staring at the cup in her hand rather then about the room or the folks in it.

"I would daresay the Cibolans *are* thrilled to be tied to Amber once more," remarks Cela after listening agreeably to the lady commander's summary. Her eyes are downcast half the time, checking on her neatness in jotting down Ruby's speech in a form of shorthand. Even so, she quickly enough darts out her other hand to grab for the glass of cidery ale, served earlier and saved for this moment.

Leaning against the wall, Clive listens in to Ruby's speech, giving a nod of agreement every so often. Once he sees what this toast is for, the salty Selkie pushes off the wall with a shoulder, pulls his cigar from his mouth, and holds his bottle up high to join in. Wearing a deadly serious expression, something one might only be able to discern through experience with the subtle nuances that distinguish it from the usual, he keeps his eyes locked on Ruby and pipes up, "A lotta fine sailors paid the price. They knew the score'n sailed anyway. Can't ask for anything more from a crew."

Martin nods, seeming to agree with what Ruby's diagnosis of the problem was. He gives her an approving look. You've done well, grasshopper! "The shadows close to Cibola got affected, she means." He explains. "Ripple effect means that things will stabalize around Cibola eventually."
Melina looks to the back of the room at the sound of martin's voice with a smile, having avoided drink to this point, she quickly finds a glass to raise to both the dead and living who served

Cale obligingly raises his own drink in concordance with the proposed toast. Cale bows his head respectfully, then takes a long and proper swig . . . from a oddly - shaped glass bottle incongruously labeled "Cake" and decorated with a swirly hour - glass - looking 'swoosh' of sorts in silver - white. Whatever Cale's been drinking is dark and somewhat bubbly. Not rum, not wine? He takes a swig, and sets it down when the toast's complete.

Ruby doesn't try and meet Clive's gaze on this, but the drink in her hand is swept the Selkie's way like she was holding a microphone out. She attempts to politician by riding Clive's wake. "Truth. Better said than I could say." She takes a quick drink and it doesn't go down completely the right way and she wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Aye, an there be no sweetenin tha sourness 'o tha price paid. Bringin back a balance means different scars tah bear. It is me 'ope tha other paths, or new paths we lay down, won't need tha kind 'o sacrifice seen at tha Bloody Node. For Kitezh an Pathi, or wherever efforts are needed...Would rather we lay down waypoints or buoys 'o power derived from artifact or..." Shiver. "...ritual."
Ruby takes another sip and sets her glass down, leaning heavily on the table with one arm. "Movin forward, any Pathfinders sailin these paths, stable or not, need tah keep their eyes, ears an nose 'oles open. It be crucial tha if you spot ~anything~ odd, if you get a concerned word from a sensitive arcanist or Walker along for tha ride, you gotta take 'eed. If you spot openins in tha sky or whirlpools tha dog you...if you spot a ship not flyin a flag you recognize as bein part 'o tha Golden Circle or Ambah...you 'ave tah get word back. Birds, trumps or flippin arrows...I don't care. Information more valuable than gold. You 'ear me?"

Wynter takes deep sip for the toast and then another afterwards before returning to her stew. The warnings Ruby gives voice too seem all too familiar as the Captian counts them down one by one. "Don't forget walking prow ornaments, dreaming whales or altered humans." She says in a near whisper. More to herself then to anyone at the gathering. A spoonful of the fine stew is brought up and cooled before savoring it's taste.

Martin somehow has a drink, it's one of those things. His eyes settle on Cale as he speaks but he doesn't respond to his words. He raises his glass to Ruby to respond to her toast. "It was quite the battle. I wasn't able to participate directly in the action as I had to concentrate, but I could see the results." He looks over towards Clive and offers him a grin. "We should meet up at some point, I've heard good things about your efforts." He looks back at Cale, mulling over his words, then back to Ruby. "Is official business over, Ruby?" He asks. "I can't help but feel like there's more to discuss as to our next steps."

Ruby is reaching for another drink and gets a refill from a pitcher. It's weight temporarily missing from part of the parchment, it threatens to try and roll up over Sukho's sea route and the wee wooden outrigger that courageously tries to keep that edge weighed down. "I think we're good on Cibola, though it moight be wise tah 'ave a few trips down tha path if busy-ness can be a parallel goal tah some Captain or merchant. I suspect busy-ness be better an Navy Picket ships on tip-toes." Ruby touches lightly on Caine's recent run-in if strange ships. "Though I'd would loike tah 'ear concerns an ideas. We've...lost...some ships. Deep shadow vessels an recon intah troubled paths, an forgotten routes, shadowcracks, some 'o which were just rumours an such tha intrigued some Pathfoinders. There always myths 'o secret ways an secret seas 'o Minos out there. They overdue an I 'ope tah Bog they just delayed only, but I think a search an rescue in order."

Cale listens carefully to all the updates brought up today. "Hey guys!" Cale waves, comfortably, from his perch atop the chair, once the 'official business' of the evening comes to a close, pending more discussions on the 'morrow. "Couple things, might be of interest . . . Found the 'Godseye Maelstrom,' far on out in Deepest Shadow. Can share the Walk out to it, aye, if any others want to have a look at that. Second: Spent a bunch of time out scouting . . . tracking down that song that had been making the rounds out in the Shadows that Amber's called upon in times long past. There's a nasty bunch behind that bitt, stirring up old unhealed troubles. Visited about twenty Shadows where it'd taken hold and grown some roots. They're organized. And the cadence of the song has got 'encoded' within it a 'countdown' of a unique sort. So, that would make it seem quite likely that our Trouble's just beginning. Thirdly: rescued a bunch of refugees from a plague and Shadow War. Got 'em fed and housed, if temporarily. I'm pretty sure they'll be approached, though, and tempted to join in with the Troubles. So I'm talking some, and listening more. Trying to forestall all that, if I can think of how to do that. It helps they've seen that those who Pattern - Walk know how to give, as well as take. But I don't know how that will go. Any ideas how to proceed on that? Without the use of violence?" Cale asks.

RPG: Melina accepts a Trump call.

Melina says, "don't bring the baby, no"
Dirk appears suddenly, grasping Melina's hand.
Dirk has arrived.
Dirk pops in and hugs his wife.

The front door of the Hawsepipe Tavern opens and Ashby de'Mandrake whooshes on into the main room in a sudden burst of energy that stands in stark contrast to the current setting out there. From the private meeting room, all that can be heard is a brief moment of increased volume on the other side of the door as the Mons greets the patrons as boisterously as ever and asks a barmaid where he might find the Pathfinder meeting. Contrary to what many believe, the colorful Duke of House Chantris *is* able to be quite quiet. Discrete, even! As the door between the main room of the tavern and the one for the Pathfinder opens, this skill is on full display as he slips on inside with a snifter of brandy in one hand and a bottle in the other. Blue eyes light up as they dance about the room, pausing on familiar faces while he nods to each of them with a wild grin breaking out. Still quiet as a mouse, he finds himself a seat and listens in to the goings on.

Melina silent smiles and nods of greeting to both her husband and the duke, apparently waiting for someone with an actual ship to offer aid in the matter of the missing vessel

Cool! That sounds quite exciting, actually. An adventure. And a Search - and - Rescue! Rescuing people's always good . . . And Cale's been itching to get back to Sea, ever since that last trip out with Gerard & co. Cale leans forward on his seat and looks around the room a bit, ears alert to any hint of which ships could be set to go. And, yes indeed, the phrase is "on his seat" not "in his seat," as Cale is once again sitting quite precariously, balanced up on his perch atop the back of one of the heavy, sturdy oaken chairs that dot the decor in the tavern, knees drawn in beneath his elbows, feet against the seatback planking.

Dirk is hugging Mellie and being quiet.

Martin nods thoughtfully at Ruby, "You know what I'm up to and how much of my attention that's taking." He drinks down his glass to finish his salute. "That being said, if you need help or advice, you know you can contact me." Officially, he's a consultant. He takes in others at the meeting but he doesn't acknowledge anyone directly, more of a general yep, I see you, cheers! "It's truly a remarkable thing to organize such an effort to get that shadow path working again, Ruby, I can't begin to tell you how proud I am. People working together is really the only way any of this will get fixed. Is there anything you need from Rebma I can pass on to the Queen? I have some underwater teams that could be sent with people to help locate some of the missing ships that fell through the cracks."

Wynter continues to eat her food in silence. Each spoonfull of stew savored, perhaps overly so. As Martin speaks she pales in the light of the tavern and lays her spoon down. Picking up her mug of ale she just sits in stillness, looking into the darkened surface of the liquid.

Whatever she was busy doing that kept her away, Maereina comes into the tavern late for the meeting. It doesn't take much effort to find them though. She walks over and leans against the wall near the group.
Ruby drinks deep, though there's a moment where a gag reflex almost ruins things with the bringing up of the shadow song. A bit of thumping on her own sternum touches upon a wound and she winces. She nods at Cale and rasps, "Make sure you introduce yerself, Captain or captain, strider or civvie. Aye, someone whispered in me ear you be Kyle...wait, Cale is it?" She coughs and blinks away extra moisture from her eyes. "I not tha best tah speak on dip-lomacy, but there be royals an roight good souls in attendance tha moight 'ave some advice. Femmes an blokes with foine tongues an more morals than they know what tah do with."
Martin's kind words have her taking another more successful drink, mostly to obscure her expression with the glass tumbler. Mention of the Queen has her trying to suppress an anxious flinch. "If I wasn't able tah draw on favours an rely on real 'eroes, it would 'ave been a different story. Others probably bled worse tah make sure it worked, Truth. Toime will tell whether there could 'ave been a better way." she offers a bit guiltily. "Certainly Won't be deaf tah alternative opinions an advice on tha other paths an problems, Truth."

Lost ships! That's his cue, right? Mid-sip of his brandy, Ashby surges to his feet and holds up a hand, pointing into the air with a flourish. "If you can scrounge up the bodies for a crew, the offer of help from House Chantris still stands! To that end and..." His hand sweeps across and gestures about in the direction of Martin and his words of praise, "In recognition of both this tremendous feat and your own elevation at Court..." Stomping a boot on the floorboards sends the signal to two aides out in the main room. The door opens and the pair carries something in that is covered by a cloth. Once it is set down on the table, Ashby swipes off the sheet in one smooth motion to unveil a model of a ship fit for display in an office or Captain's Quarters! "I present the HMS Princess Incarnate! Fresh off the line and ready for duty with the Royal Pathfinders! You found the right team for the job and led them to do the impossible at least once already! If I can help you to do it again, in any way, I would certainly be honored to do so!" One might be able to notice that the figurehead bears a striking resemblance to a certain Princess in the room.

Melina hms "Diplomacy I can do. It's proper ken of shadow I don't have. I don't quite understand what cale and I witnessed out there as it goes against my previous understanding of such things limited though it is, but I thought a roomful of patternwalkers might clarify, For instance I know that important persons of amber like the princes have replications in other shadows. Can this be consciously be done and doe one have to be of royal blood for this to occur?

Maereina speaks up quietly since she feels she has relevant comments, "One doesn't have to be of royal blood to have a duplicate in shadow but it might be necessary to be close to one. I myself have several duplicates out in shadow, but they seem to all be tied to things that happened when I was dating Bleys."

Cale is at least momentarily distracted by the unveiling of the beautiful new ship. Even the small scale model clearly causes his eyes to light up with joy, appreciation, and keen excitement. Ships are so cool! Cale takes in all its details with a focussed, intense gaze. And while Cale himself does indeed have, on his own, quite a bit of 'ken of shadows,' . . . he keeps silent for the time being, first looking around to the others gathered, listening for the wisdom of their own experience. Maereina's tale draws Cale's rapt attention and Cale makes a note of her thoughts, jotting down a summary and details on a pad of paper. (And: Yes, he's writing this while still balancing on the chair back.) Cale himself has spent a lot of his young life 'out in the shadows,' traveling out quite far and wide. More far than wide, in point of fact, as he's the kind of kid who always tries to push at limits, especially his own. Time to go back to the shadows cast by Minos, maybe? Cale chews thoughtfully at the right hand corner of this lower lip, tapping on the pad of paper with the back end of a charcoal pencil.

Ruby boggle-eyes at the model of the ship and the flourish of presentation. She sets down the drink so she doesn't break the glass, using the table now for support as she peers at the schooner. "I...'avin trouble." Her brain hits a few speed bumps and she looks to Martin for proper way to react. She hisses, "I need 'elp reactin properly tah this." She twitches and then yammers to Ashby, flustered, "Tha's... ...unbelieveable."

Martin glances between Maereina and Melina then looks back to Ruby, his eyes, however, are fixed on the ship model Ashby has displayed. He gives a whistle of approval. "Wow, what a beauty that is! Nice work!" He considers the question from Melina and nods, "Maereina is correct. Anyone can have a multiple possible versions of themselves out in shadow. One can make such shadows 'duplicates' for lack of a better word more real and increase the possibilities of encountering them. That's likely what Bleys did with yours, Maereina. The presence of a royal in a shadow solidifies it for a time as does the frequent visitation of people and places a royal goes to. That is because they are simply expected to be there by that royal. Not all things possible are probable, however and knowing the difference can save you a lot of trouble. Just treat it carefully, Ruby, try two fingers?" He chuckles at her expression. "You're doing fine with the reactions, nobody expects you to stand on ceremony."

Dirk says "That explains a lot of things Martin, thanks."

Wynter turns her pale face towards the dramatic unvieling of the tiny vessel and leans towards it. A ghost of a smile appears on her face as she notes the resemblance to the Princess and looks then to Ashby and giving him a nod. To Ruby she speaks. "A thank you, I think, Ruby. We all know you'll make good use of the ship. And the voyage and mending were indeed a triumph." She shuts her mouth at this point and simpley nods again.

Melina smiles at Ruby's dumbfoundedness and takes her turn at complimenting the handiwork "She is quite beautiful your grace. She then nods a thanks to both Martin and Maerreina "I thank you both for your insight and patience. I don't think what those spreading that song is normal in any sense. We may have to throw probable out the window, but i'll hold other questions in hopes i can ask later. This is a meeting of those tasked with fixing the patern after all, not my lesson on shadow dynamics

Ashby's hand swats back and forth in the air as he shakes his head, "It is the very least I can do, sadly. With a Rear Admiral leading the charge, I've every confidence she'll be put to good use!" A sharp nod is shot at his aides, who take this opportunity to disappear with the cloth, a generous sip of brandy is taken, and a wink is fired off at Wynter as his gaze sweeps on past her toward the model ship. "She's parked down at the Docks right now." Ceremony! If only, Martin! The Legendary cavalier's eyes twinkle at the notion of injecting some pomp and/or circumstance into all of this, but he somehow manages to resist this urge. To a degree. He settles for a modest bow in Melina's direction at her compliments of the work. With just a minor flourish at his side from his free hand. As others go on about the inner workings of the Pattern, he takes this moment to upend his snifter to polish it off, refill it, and take another sip to make it more manageable. "As for the topic of scouting, I'll be traveling soon to Montevalno by way of Begma for supplies and specialists. Should I see anything amiss along the way, I'll report it in right away. Given the level of unrest we've heard of and some orders from the Navy, we ramped up production at the yards a couple of months back. Hopefully, it is just me being too cautious and we'll be back to normal!"

Ruby finds her drink empty and so licks her chops of the lingering aftertaste in her mouth. "Aye, we see." And she adds, "Tha last meeting 'ad all sorts 'o insight as well. Can't avoid learnin somethin new or obscure, which must be good. I 'ate tah think 'o duplicates out there, for whatever reason, an repercussions 'o stayin too long in one place. Sounds loike side-effects almost." She contemplates.
Veering back to matters, she frowns, and then Ashby's reputation slides into her headspace and the expression softens. "Good luck in Monte-valno, Duke. I 'ope tha sea lanes are toight but untroubled. Caine lost a good ship recently I 'ear. Can't be a bad thing tah be cautiously pre-pared." She directs a look towards Maereina. "Sorry tah 'ear there was a sacrifice 'o sorts there as well, but real glad 'e survived an won tha day. Prevented worse from 'appenin by quick response I bet."

Maereina purses her lips at the mention of Caine losing a ship but doesn't make a comment about that situation. "I think I've missed rather a lot during previous meetings I didn't make it to. Perhaps there'll be an opportunity for me to catch up later."

Cale nods quickly and readily when Martin speaks, and then, after a thoughtful pause, looks down at his notes with furrowed brow for perhaps a half a second or so. Cale makes some more notes. Full of energy as ever, Cale rocks back and forth on his 'perch' a bit, and chews a bit at the end of the pencil, concentrating, deep in thought. Ashby's news about a trip to Montevalno brings him quickly back from reverie. Hm. Interesting. Cale makes more notes, and thinks more thoughts, having just returned from Montevalno himself only just the week 'fore last.

Martin nods sagely and has another drink. "Yes, good luck." He smile's in Ashby's direction then Ruby's. "Almost like it, but sometimes its actually side-effects that are expected and thus happen."

Ashby adopts a serious expression as he nods in agreement with Ruby, turning downright grave at the mention of what had befallen the Prince. "I appreciate that, Your Highness. I don't have anything close to His Highness' experience at sea, so I'm taking every precaution I can. Both the times we find ourselves in and the destination demand it! Do you have a spare Trump on hand, by any chance? I think I need to get some more drawn, myself..." Amnesia, a polarizing reputation, and Mons vendettas are not something to mix! His glass lifts toward Martin in a gesture of thanks as he bows his head, followed, of course, with another stolen sip. "I suppose acid trips and Pattern walking really aren't normally advised then, hmmm?"

Maereina smirks a little, "I don't know. Some of the hellrides Bleys took me on seemed like they were drug induced even without the drugs. I'd imagine the drugs would make it quite interesting."

Ruby murmers, "Drugs an shadoo-shiftin can be a death sentence if you do it alone." She lowers her hand to her trump deck and feels along the edges of the cards present. "I don't gots spares. I guess it be toime tah seek out some artists again an get some trades goin."

Martin nearly coughs in his drink and sage nods at Maereina. "Remind me to talk to you all sometime about a shadow I went to where we had to rescue the thumb princess. Quite literally a two-D world... and the spork rebellion. Uh... " He rubs the back of his neck. "Worlds on Spinning Tops?" He chuckles. "To answer your question, not generally advised....but not impossible to pattern walk while on acid, no. In the end, no one wins, really, because if the mind perceives it as possible...." He gestures vaguely. "No one really wants to get stuck in two d permanently, however. That would be bad." He clears his throat. "In a nutshell, the more improbable it is... the closer you are to deep shadow and chaos."

Maereina nods slightly as cards come up. "If someone needs one of me, I might have a spare. We can talk about it."

Cale listens intently to Martin again, nodding somewhat more slowly this time, particularly at the phrase: "the more improbable it is... the closer you are to deep shadow and chaos." Seems true enough. But, then, why is the Maelstrom of the Godseye so very very close to chaos? What's so improbable about that place? Cale makes notes to go back there and check it out, his charcoal stylus making 'sktrictching' noises as he jots this down. During the brief lulls in the conversation, Cale also doodles quite a bit, sketching a rendition of the new model ship tidily in the bottom right hand margin of the page. Even here, his energetic personality comes through a bit, the sketch taking shape in very few lines, accentuated with stark shadings.

Martin nods, "At any rate, you know how to find me, Ruby." He sets his empty glass down. "It can be, if you don't know what you're doing." He frowns as though noticing something. "I've got someone contacting me. I'll have to answer that call shortly.I can send a few trump artists your way if needed, Ruby. I've a few connections." He glances around at everyone. "If there's nothing else, please keep up the good work everyone! Everything you're doing is appreciated even if it might not seem that way at first. All your efforts are being noticed and appreciated."

As full of mischief as ever, Ashby's grin crawls its way back into view as he listens to Martin. His chest shakes with contained laughter while he drains the remainder of his snifter in one smooth and exceedingly well practiced motion. "Well, that certainly makes sense! Expanding the mind has its up sides and down sides ordinarily, let alone when all of reality around you is being affected!" He smacks his glass down next to what appears to be an empty bottle and again waves a hand to dismiss this notion of trading. "I think that Lady Lhasa has one of me, if you ever need to get in touch. I'll relay through someone in the meantime. Should anything come up! Knowing my luck, of late, it will all wind up being routine and I'll miss out on all of the action! Well, I should be off!" Backward steps are taken toward the door as if he were exiting a Montevalnan stage. A few footfalls away he dips into a low bow with a hand sweeping down as the other is tossed out flamboyantly to one side, "Until next time, Your Hignesses! Lady Minister! Everyone! A pleasure meeting you all! Keep up the good work and we're sure to find our way through this!" With that said, he spins about on the balls of his feet and is on out the door with as much gusto as he had entered the Tavern with.

Maereina grimaces at being called Lady Minister and calls after him, "You know, you can still call me Captain even when I'm NOT on my ship!"

As the meeting winds down and things get finished up, the lulls in the conversation grow longer and the content grows sporadic. To keep tuned in and keep boredom at bay, Cale concentrated intently on drawing the ship in greater detail. But when it's clear that things are over, Cale hops down off his 'perch' and wanders over to Maereina. "Hello! You said . . . you had a ship?" Cale inquires, once he's been acknowledged. Cale's bright eyes are happy, hopeful, enthusiastic and keen with interest. Clearly, Cale is fond of ships . . .

Maereina chuckles as Cale approaches her and nods, "Aye. I'm Captain Midnight. My ship's the Twilight's Treasure. And you are?"

Martin nods politely around, "Good evening, all." He drops some coin on the table for his drink and heads out for the evening looking cheerful enough.

"Hi! I'm Cale. That's 'Cale' with a 'C,' so . . . not like the vegetable." Cale bows. "I'd, uh, make an excellent lookout, scout, or rigging rat!" Cale offers, young eyes bright and hopeful. Cale *looks*, at first glance, just barely old enough to be a 'cabin boy' or 'powder monkey' but perhaps he's older and just small for his age? His eyes are intense, confident. And knowing, somehow, subtly. As if he's 'seen some things' and lived some life, despite his age. His hands are small, but worn and calloused. Not the hands of a nobleman. His boots likewise, do seem to have a bit of 'wear' on them as well.

Maereina eyes Cale for a moment then asks, "And just how often have you been to sea aboard a ship, Cale with a C?"
"As often as possible, really." Cale notes. " I like to push the limits." Cale explains. "My own, of course, especially. I've been out to Sea a dozen times, even once I was the Navigator, . . . from Amber to Alhambra's coast. But there is sailing, and there's . . . *Sailing* . . . the latter being the pure Art, the former being . . . just a job. I'd like to learn - by - doing, watching someone who has achieved the latter." Cale puts forth, in earnestness.

Maereina frowns just a little, "Really? I've sailed Alhambra's coast a time or two with my mother. You don't really seem old enough. Something to do with Amber blood?"

Cale takes this doubt in stride. He nods but once, and gives the rundown quickly but with all the details one could ask for: Currents, . . . tides, . . . prevailing winds . . . sounding depths and transit times. He details the whole journey from the harbor to a cliffside cave. Huh. Guess he could have done it, looks like. Cale then amends the story, saying: "But again, I'd want to start out small." . . . with a self - deprecating grin in homage to his own diminutive stature. "Not as navigator, surely. Just a lookout, scout, and rigging - rat! As long as I'm aloft?" Cale queries.
Maereina purses her lips for a moment then nods toward the door. "Come see the Treasure and tell me what you think of her."