Trade Winds

[Cherish]

Trade Winds history

Lastra has been a well known name in the city of Abestat for generations now. It started when Haphtar Lastra took over the export business with his one boat,
"The Silver lining." His business boomed after he discovered in Nexus a craftsman with a knack of priceless jewelry. With the money he got from the business drawn from the dominate market of the fine jews, he bought another boat. He sent this one in the other direction. Soon he had Merchant guilds in all the cities and was making a profit in Abestat from his finds. All the while he had married, a young woman from Zerdargia, Ame Lastra. They had two sons. When he died, he left his business to his eldest son, Nayus Lastra. Haphtar's second son, Garth Lastra become a well known bard.

The control of the city grew as Nayus began buying out other businesses and putting other Merchants in Abestat on his pay roll. Nayus married, but his wife Amber died while giving birth to his daughter, Christyn Lastra. He refused to marry again. He became a cruel, black hearted soul. He was a ruthless businessman, bringing the small businesses to their knees with his "members" fees of the Merchants guild. He was lost at sea with his daughter, on the "Siren's Call", his prized merchant ship. Garth inherited the business then. Though he was by no means a business man, he tried to keep things in order for his
family's sake. He had married also, Haley of Daltina. They had five children, three boys, two girls. Enamere the oldest and first son, Rein the second son, Jasmine the third child and first daughter, Bacnare the fourth child and third son, and lastly Candance the fifth child, second daughter.

When Enamere came of age he began out on the merchant ships, as his great great grandfather had. He soon proved to his father at the mere age of twenty-five that he could
run the Lastra empire. He has been referred to the lost uncle Nayus Lastra many a times. He bought his greedy brothers out of their shares and has had full ownership for 12 years.


The Office

The beautifully crafted two story building sets on the far eastern side of the Mercantile district. It's dark stained wood sides stand out among the drab stone buildings. In the middle of the building sets a medium sized black sign with gold letters stating the Corporations name in large bold letters. When entering the building you may find yourself standing aside as three merchants walk out. This place of business is always busy. On the door hangs a neatly placed small wooden sign, it reads "All who wish to do business with the Trade Winds please check into the desks upon arrival." The reception room has a high cathedral ceiling with a soft light blue carpet. Many windows line the walls of the room, navy blue curtains hugging their frames.

To each side of the room sets two large dark colored desks, with a receptionist and a secretary behind each desk. A large stair case spirals up to the second floor to a loft area. Four offices are there. Behind the stair case is a door to the file room. Here there are box after box of parchments of orders, received shipments, lists of Merchants apart of the guilds, lists of the shops owned and run by the Trade Winds. There is an endless amount of information belonging to the Trade Winds in the room.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

Baknar, having just arrived in Abestat the previous day, was ignorant of the impressive history behind the Trade Winds merchant and trading empire. All he knew was what Oriel Screhent and Cole, the barkeep at the Bloomsbury, had told him, and that was not much. But Oriel had said to come here and meet with Enamere Lastra, and Baknar, as he'd said he would, had complied.

So now he stood outside the grand, two story building. He stepped inside, brushing past one of the many merchants who undoubtedly frequented the building during its business hours. He made his way to one of the desks (whichever one had the prettier receptionist) and made his greeting.

"Serale, serale. My name is Luthar D'Val...I believe I am expected."

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by AGM Xeno

The secretaries are both young women, one a human with shoulder-length chestnut hair bedecked in a tasteful but prim little outfit in somber colors, touches of lace and understated silver jewelry accenting her finely-tailored uniform. The other is a half-elf with short but not unfeminine red-blonde hair in a puffed-out style, wearing a pair of slacks and a silken blouse of myriad contrasting colors, mainly yellow and blue. Something about the comparatively outspoken style of this second one attracts your advance, though to be fair the other was engaged in some serious-looking filing activities at that moment and probably would not like to have been disturbed.

"Serale," the half-elf chirps back to you, offering a perky smile. Her milky blue eyes are wide and expressive, giving her a constantly cheery appearance. "Mr. D'val, you say? I thought that sounded familiar."

One long-fingered hand toys idly with a dry quill pen, pink lacquered nails tapping against the expensive ebonwood desk as she flips through a small appointment book propped up nearby.

"Ah, yes - Oriel was very insistent about you," she said, as if deliberating something. You have no trouble imagining that the trader is quite insistent about a whole gamut of things, and wonder what it bodes for you cause. The young secretary looked up at you with a slightly plaintative expression. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Lastra was called away on urgent matters this morning. All his appointments have had to be postponed."

Her eyes dart down to the counter and then back to you after a short pause, the beaming smile re-emerging on her soft-featured face slowly.

"I'm sure one of the general managers could meet with you if you would prefer not to wait." Without waiting for you to answer, she looks over her shoulder at a posted calendar with various colored pins jabbed into it, honing in on the current date.

"Let's see ... Mr. Lastra is gone, Mr. Screhent is ill ... bad fever ..." she begins to enumerate the current fates of the various upper-level figures in Enamere Lastra's organization, sounding a trifle amused as she speaks about the man you met in the Bloomsbury.

"There's always Mr. Vrant," she determines eventually, her voice radiant with cheer. "He would usually be the one to handle a situation like this. He's very skilled, and he already knows all about you ..."

She leans in a little, sparkling eyes darting inquisitively over your face.

"Well, as much as any of us know, anyway. His office is the third on the left upstairs - but you would know that anyway, his name is on his door."

The receptionist taps her crimson-plumed quill daintily into the inkwell at her elbow, preparing to scratch something into the appointment roster if necessary.

"Unless you would rather wait a few days for Mr. Lastra ..."

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

The human woman, though pretty enough, seemed a bit too prim and proper for Baknar's taste. The half-elf, on the other hand, seemed more outgoing, if her clothes and hair style were any accurate indication. Besides, the first one looked pretty busy anyway.

Baknar frowned slightly upon hearing the news. "That is unfortunate," was all he said before the woman continued, giving him further options.

"A bad fever, you say? Well, give him my sincerest wishes for his speedy recovery to good health," he said, a smile playing on his face.

It widened slightly when she leaned in towards him. He liked her eyes, and the fact they were currently focused on him made him like them, and their owner, more. Never one to forego even the smallest window, he leaned in slightly closer to her as well.

"Hmm...well, if you're interested in learning more, I'm sure I could squeeze you into my busy schedule," he said, smile turning into a grin, still friendly.

"Anyway...I suppose it couldn't hurt to talk to this...Mr. Vrant, is it? Third door on the left, you said? Thank you very much."

On impulse, he gave her a wink before heading down the hallway towards Mr. Vrant's room. He stopped, checked to make sure it was the right office, then knocked lightly on the door.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by AGM Xeno

"I'm sure that'll just thrill him," she replied to your wishes for Screhent's health, clearly surpressing a little peal of laughter. "He sent someone along this morning to say he wouldn't be in. Apparently he nearly burned up in the night, but I'm sure he'll be back on his feet before long ... he was healthy enough to include a few complaints in his message. Something to do with a salad," she concluded, her bright blues eyes practically glowing with some inside joke she could not help but hint at.

"I might take you up on that, Mr. D'val," she told you in a coy little voice as you moved on to the near and dear subject of your offer. "But first we should see how you do with Mr. Vrant. I wouldn't be working in this office if I didn't find successful mercantiles oh-so-appealing."

She gave you a little wave, playfully urging you on to your more practical business all the faster perhaps so you could hurry to return and lavish more attention upon her - but then again, it could easily have been the product of an overactive draconic imagination.

As you move on you are able to take in more of your surroundings than before; the stairway which leads to the managerial offices is a swooping spiral of pine polished to a high sheen and covered symetrically in the center by lush red carpeting with gold threadwork reminiscent of nobile chic. The banisters, a dark and richer color, terminate with opulent spherical knobs at the ends, either made of gold or plated heavily, and engraved in neat cursive with the text "Executive offices." The one on the left, corresponding to the left side of the corridor, lists such affluent surnames as Lastra, Screhent Vrant, and Zeikram.

Proceeding up the grand, sweeping staircase and scanning down the long hallway you see that it is equally impressive, the plush carpet an inviting off-white shade. The walls are lined at regular intervals with various expensive decoration; vibrantly painted artworks of wondrous vistas, mountains and cityscapes, heavy plaques with striking heraldic incisions, even a few stands with glass-encased sculpture stand between the offices, each piece mesmorizing in its beauty and individuality yet leading to an equally impressive cohesive whole. At the end of the hall, which curves off to both the left and right, a suit of full platemail armor replete with halbred stands to divide one direction from another.

You come without issue to the office, its smoky window marked in bold black lettering with the name and title, "CEDRIS VRANT - General Manager". Like all the others, his door is heavy, impressive, and subtly imposing. To the sides of his entrance are two wonderfully-detailed banners depicting idealized scenes from the inspiring region of the Lylles Kingdom of Lauryl, particularly Mystique. The colors are deep and dark, and the details so lovingly picked out that you could look at them all day without believing yourself to have seen it all.

Your knock is answered by a low, masculine voice with a deep timbre, putting you in mind of the reverberations of an earthquake. There is a slight accent, but at first you find it difficult to place within the Empire.

"Yes? Enter," the voice, presumably belonging to the aforenamed Cedris Vrant, invites you.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

As Baknar headed up the stairs and down the hallway to Mr. Vrant's office, he took a good look around. The polished pine staircase, the rich, almost kingly carpeting that covered the hallway, obviously expensive pieces of art-all were obviously meant to be subtly imposing; they accomplished their task quite effectively.

He stopped in front of the door, clearly marked as belonging to 'CEDRIC VRANT- General Manager.' After admiring the banners for a few moments, he knocked, answered by the low, rumbling voice of what he assumed to be Cedric Vrant. He recognized an accent; but he could not place it specifically.

Hearing his invitation, Baknar opened the door and entered inside.

"Serale," he greeted. "Mr. Vrant, I presume?"

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by AGM Xeno

As the door swung gently closed behind you you found that the office was hugely spacious, as gradiose in structure and design as the rest of the interior thus far witnessed, though reflecting a somewhat different taste in decor. Vrant appeared to be fond of arcanic artifacts, if his walls were any clue to wager on; his collection included bulky staves with indecipherable runic inscription, a sundry assortment of "enchanted" items with woodwork plaques describing their history and effect, and miscellaneous pieces of weathered parchment from magical tomes - though some of these, on closer inspection, were in fact replicas of old Imperial government documents and mercantile charters from Abestat, some dating back many eras to the founding of the city or before.

The room itself could easily have doubled as a small museum, but there were a few hints that business of a more mundane nature actually was conducted here on a reasonably regular basis. Entering, one could see sturdy filing cabinets to the right and left of Vrant's impressive ivory-inlaid desk, on which two good-sized piles of paperwork composed of either incoming or outgoing invoice forms and the like sat awaiting attention. The stacks were highly organized, and gave a meticulous impression.

Vrant was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man who rose slowly from his seat as you entered. He was unusually tall and broad of shoulder for a trader, though his finely-tailored white and gray clothes made him appear slightly less bulky than he probably was. The window behind him looked out on a picturesque scene of the lively trade district of Abestat, adding to the bright disposition of the surroundings. Sunlight streamed through the glazed glass rather pleasantly.

"I am Vrant," he said in his unusual voice; what you had pegged before in his speech is not so much an accent as a manner of tone, a rather flat lack of inflection that puts you in mind of an echo. The man does not seem disturbed by your entry, you soon realize; it's just the way he talks. He gives you a cursory inspection with a flick of his eyes before asking, "Who might you be, sir?"

At first, it had appeared to you that sprawled upon the wooden-panneled floor in front of Vrant's desk was a majestic fur throw rug the color of somber gray stormclouds, but you now come to realize, as it raises its head toward you, that this is in fact a very large dog. Its black-tipped ears rotate around to your direction and it peers at you through lazily-lidded eyes which blaze like hot embers even though you can see but twin slits at the time. It occurs to you that this animal is only a few steps away from being an actual wolf, one of them hopefully being that it had no reason to acquire a taste for blood.

It regards you dispassionately for a moment before returning to its vaguely sedate, protective crouch, eyes closed but overlarge black nose still twitching faintly at something, quite possibly you.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

The hallway had been subtly imposing in its opulence; there was nothing at all subtle about the room he'd just entered. He had a small museum's worth of artifacts, everything from staves with strange runic inscriptions to pieces of parchment seemingly taken from certain magical tomes. There were a number of more business-related things as well; a fine ivory-inlaid desk and the customary mounds of paperwork.

His eyes fell on Vrant as the man rose slowly from his desk. Before he could respond to the man's query, he saw something that almost caused him to lose his composure. What he'd taken for a large rug was, in fact, a large dog, and one that looked to have quite a bit of wolf in it. Baknar watched it as it seemed to lethargically study him before returning to its quasi-comatise like state on the floor. Baknar noticed its nose twitching; he could only hope that the dog wouldn't become any more curious.

Finally, he answered Vrant. "I am Luthar D'Val," he said. "I was scheduled to meet with Mr. Lastra, but I was informed he is unavailable at the moment and was told instead to meet with you."

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Kit'Arieal Tenderclaw

The wood felt comforting, if not cool, under his feet as Kit stepped into the building. He held his notebook close to his side as he moved; bright, wide eyes scanning the place with every step. With his tail wrapped about his waist like a belt, Kit made his way to the first available assistant.
"Serale." He said softly, attempting his best to appear innocently nice, if not a little cute should the assistant be female.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by AGM Xeno

Baknar

A moment of utter, absolute silence passes after you introduce yourself, during which your host acquires a blank expression and the only sound you can discern is the rusty rasp of breathing from the beastial canine snoozing on the floor. Cedris Vrant examines your face, bringing his eyes across your stolen countenance with a series of slow sweeps of his pellucid blue eyes, mouthing some disbelieving syllables under his breath before he utters a husky, "... Luthar."

His previously emotionless, reverberating voice is filled with a surge of warmth as he repeats, "Luthar! Luthar, Luthar, Luthar D'Val. We were sure that you had died!"

He quickly strides out from behind the desk, his pet lifting its head off its forepaws and snapping its eyes open as its master walks past it to where you are standing. Without waiting for a response, the towering man takes you in a crushing, brotherly embrace. The animal beyond his shoulder surveys this scene with continuing coiled intensity, but does not seem motivated to take to his feet just yet.

"Leaving like that to find your fortune in the desert!" he chides, still jubilant, holding you out at arm's length. "You should have stayed with us," he says firmly, then releases you. "But at least it looks like the Arakmatian mist hasn't treated you too harshly. Perhaps you have come back to your senses."

Laying a hand on the surface of the desk, he walks back around to his post and seats himself, eyes on you nearly the entire time. The dog, on the other hand, has sat up and adopted a nearly statuesque stillness, staring remotely, making only a single murmur of discontent when Vrant released you a few seconds before.

"There will be time for catching up later," he declares. "For now, take a seat where I can see you, and tell me - what brings you here? Surely you did not return to reclaim past benefits ...?"

His voice allows the tiniest strain of incomprehension besides the florid disbelief which may work to your advantage. Apparently this man had been some acqauintance of the apparently simple highwayman you waylaid and murdered for your present form. This is a precarious situation indeed, and without further details to go on, you will have to make use of your gut reactions to steer you through.

There are three lightweight chairs with robustly carved arms and legs sitting to your left, placed just far enough from the wall to be unlikely to damage any of Vrant's exhibits. Apparently he does not get many visitors who he encourages to sit down, and expects you to bring one of the chairs over before his desk and sit within kicking distance of the dog, who is lying down once more but does not appear to be sleeping, merely making itself comfortable for a long wait.

Kit

There were two female attendants, though at the moment the half-elven woman, with her reddish-blonde pixie cut and outspoken silk outfit, was concerned with sorting through the contents of one of the room's many filing cabinets, having picked up the search for a particularly elusive document that had wended its way through the administrative cracks that such churning economic bureaucracy creates.

This left the human receptionist, a girl with shoulder-length hair an autumn brown shade, wearing a slightly prissy outfit in dark tones. The way her face lights up as she sees you suggests that this may be the younger and more gullible of the two. Though everything about her manner of dress suggests she is trying to present a proper air, her faux seriousness dissolves slightly as she turns to see you, silver earrings flashing as she sets you with a kind smile.

"Serale there," she coos, laying her tiny hands on the desk. "May I help you?"

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Kit'Arieal Tenderclaw

Kit's tail moved from around his waist, uncurling as it did so, and began to move smoothly from side to side behind him. Kit seemed unaware of his tail's movements as he tilted his head to the side and gave an almost 'pathetic' smile.
"Well, I don't know if you can help me at all." He shifted his eyes to her own, "But I'll give it a try anyway. Never get anywhere without giving things a shot right?" The tigron blinked once, his tail whipped up and slung itself over his shoulder, it stopped there, only the black tip could be seen from the front.
"I was wondering whether you know how to get in contact with Garth Lastra. Word that he was a better than decent Bard reached me as I entered the city. Tell me you know where I can meet him. Tell me I haven't wasted my time..." Kit leaned forward as he spoke, clutching his notebook close to his stomach, his paws crossing in front of his self. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes sparkled slightly as he did so.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

Baknar shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to make of the silence that followed his introduction. He could see Vrant studying him closely, those blue eyes holding a hint of disbelief as they absorbed his appearance.

He opened his mouth to speak-and promptly shut it again, the man's next words stealing his ability to speak as completely as if his tongue had been cut from his mouth. It was if he'd been punched in the gut; he was incapable of action, unmoving even as the other man embraced him in a way that suggested great closeness between the two.

Get ahold of yourself! a voice in his head commanded emphatically. He reminded himself he was in a precarious position, and by the time Vrant released him, Baknar had regained his composure, and no sign of his own disbelief at the situation remained.

Though outwardly calm, his mind still reeled from the mental blow the events of the past thirty seconds had unleashed upon him. He used the time spent fetching a chair to bring in front of Vrant's desk to bring it under control, and also to put it to work, analyzing just how to use this situation to his best advantage. He would have to rely on instinct, as usable information was something he lacked at the moment, though he resolved quickly to find out as much about the real Luthar D'Val as he possibly could. The one thing that stuck out in his mind was that while Vrant had recognized the name right away, Oriel Screhent had but vaguely half-remembered, which suggested that perhaps D'Val was more a friend of Vrant than an important member of the organization. Of course, it could mean something completely different as well.

He took a seat. "Thought I'd died, huh?" he asked, a smile playing on his face. "Surely you didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of me?" He chuckled. "Why am I here? A badly-needed change of climate," he said. "There's altogether too much sand out there in the desert."

His smile widened. "Tell me, though, what have I missed?"

[Cabbit]

Baknar

Vrant let out a hearty chuckle at your comment, the sound of his laughter rolling and full. His fingers steepled, he peered at you for another long moment before beginning to speak.

"To tell the truth of it, not much has happened, my friend," he began. "The balance of trade remains in the city, though the time nears when we hope to make that less significant." There was clearly a double entendre here, but the meaning was hidden well enough not to be immediately obvious. Vrant's tone was slow and deliberate, though it was returning somewhat to the wintery standard you had heard from him before he pinpointed your assumed identity.

"A little after you left, the wretch Medron Maynard betrayed us," he provided, passionate disgust at this memory suddenly rallying in his tone and then vanished without a clue to where it had passed. "Some insisted that your disappearances might be related, but I believe I have made it safe for you now. That fool, he is caged up under Rein's eye, but we have recovered well without him. I never trusted him, you remember how he was. All that drinking was nearly inhuman."

The tall man stands up again and takes a few steps out to watch the window, scenes of the daily life of Abestat far removed from the carnage and subtle politics that the merchant lifestyle has engendered in the port city. Below, everything was peaceful and free, but Baknar was still keenly aware of the potential danger to his person. So far, however, so good.

"It would be a great asset to have you back with us when we assert what is ours," he begins, but before he can get any further a cunning distraction makes itself known. Arising with a loud bark, the hound left at your feet rears up to inspect you vigorously with its nose, letting out a rusty growl meant for your ears alone. The cacophony puts you in mind of the generations of hunter-killers that must have lived to spawn this near-demon beast, their instincts as willful within it as they had been in the tameless wilds, only awaiting the smallest provocation to come snapping to the fore.

"Zaar is awake!" Vrant exclaims, turning quickly. "I have kept him for you this whole time ..."

The dog could be playing or could be preparing to preparing to maul you, but all things considered it would seem there is an expected reaction to this situation. The fiendish creature is practically shoving its nose in your face - though really, it's more like investigating your throat - and has its monolithic front paws near your legs.

Kit

The girl seemed entraced by the dancing of your tail, and her soft brown eyes followed the movements of the prehensile katta limb as you twirled it from place to place. After listening to your whole story, her gaze traced up to the tip of your tail before alighting on your face again.

"Nonono, you haven't," she tells you quickly, but looks pensive as she considers the unusual question. "You won't find him here, though, and they haven't told us where he is since management changed over. I would guess he lives in one of the estates on the eastern side of town these days." She paused, trying to come up with something more palpable for you. "You could ask one of the managers, but they're all very busy today. I'm sure there'll be someone at the docks who can tell you for certain ... bards spend lots of time there ... right?"

This last was addressed to her half-elf companion, who glanced over from her work and nodded slightly in confirmation. Now that she had a chance to notice you, she seemed to be as interested in your presence as the other, though she did not say anything other than a confirmatory, "That's right."

"Sorry we couldn't be more help ..." the human lass says sincerely, giving a small, disconsolate shrug. "I hope you find him."

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by Baknar Kaag

Baknar absorbed Vrant's every word, searching for anything he could use to keep his dangerous facade going. He was in an extremely precarious position, and would remain so for some time.

Ah, Medron Maynard. A name, a place to begin... He had already decided that he was going to have to investigate this matter more on his own time, and now he had a potential starting point for it. At Vrant's mention of the man's heavy drinking, he wondered for a moment whether it had been Maynard he had seen in the Bloomsbury the night before. He had been with a crowd of Rein Lastra's men, and he had certainly been drinking enough to fit Vrant's description. He tried to recall what he could of the man's appearance.

Baknar shook his head disgustedly when Vrant mentioned a possible connection between himself and Maynard. "They thought us in tandem? That is...disconcerting, to say the least, not to mention completely ludicrous. I can only imagine all that you have done for me in the time I've been gone, and I thank you profusely," he said, the gratefulness evident in his tone.

It was the hardest thing Baknar had done that day to keep from jumping back when the dog suddenly came alive, giving the dracon a vigorous inspection that he was not at all certain he passed.

At Vrant's exclamation, his head turned. 'I've kept him for you'...you mean to tell me this monstrosity is mine?!?

He returned his attention to the dog, realizing just how easy it would be for Zaar to tear his throat out, its nose inches from Baknar's throat in what he desperately hoped was a rough sign of affection.

Regardless, here was a situation that required a correct response from Baknar in order to keep up pretenses.

A rough grin came onto his face, and he focused completely on the dog, almost as if he had forgotten Vrant was in the room at all. He growled lowly, and, hoping that the move wouldn't get his hands bitten off, brought them against the dog, pushing it back roughly, the grin still on his face. Hopefully, the dog was only looking to play. If not, well, he hoped Vrant would see fit to bring the dog off him before it killed him.

[Cabbit]

Originally posted by AGM Xeno

Baknar

Thinking back to the previous night, you have an outside recollection of the whey-faced Maynard, featured first in the flesh as you took stock of the dining area following Screhent's departure, and then later as part of a much more dignified scene on a portrait in one of the secluded rooms. The human economist was probably in his early thirties, but his sallow complexion added eras to his appearance. He peered out at the world from beady, bloodshot eyes, these an unusual, almost lavender shade not often seen in full humans, yet the rest of his facial structure gave no hint of anything but common ancestry. His black hair was limp and he had not been seen to by a barber in an abnormally long stretch of time, all these factors adding up to equate a man who was surely in a continuous state of ruin.

The portrait had depicted an affluent, thrusting fellow in his prime, but then again, it had been surrounded by lavish representations of those you now know to be managerial Tradewinds staff rather than members of Rein Lastra's corporation. Perhaps something had happened prior to his retirement from Enamere's interests that exacerbated an unhealthy attachment to his chosen vice. With all these realizations in order, however, you cannot ignore the remembered speed with which he was computing a night's worth of debts for an excess of two dozen people, and this while he was certainly not free from intoxication.

Vrant had listened amiably while you thanked him for his imagined aid to your cause, and had watched with a hint of glee as the dog emerged into consciousness and made its presence fully known to you. You shored up to respond to the animal's advances, and as your hands made contact with the shaggy beast you had a glimmer of feeling that a very painful demise was surely forthcoming. However, the hound seemed to react amiably to your playful shove - all things considered, that is - and sat down before you, this time sniffing your hand with another rumble.

"Shall I put him somewhere out of the way, Luthar?" Vrant was asking, glancing this way and that. "I'm certain I could now." This unusual statement is punctuated by a raise of his arm, which he waves toward the heavy magician's stave latched to the wall. Vrant's face is expressionless as the weighty truncheon begins to move into the air, slowly at first but then with increasing rapidity, until eventually it floats a negligible distance from the high ceiling.

"I've been practicing," the now-revealed arcanist said flatly. "I finally passed the trial for my master-level." He turned to you, an uncaring snap of the fingers of his still-extended hand causing the levitation effect to end and the antique to glide back into place without incident.

"Better than your elementalist conjuring, do I lie?"