Sayer awakens with a start, the feeling all too familiar as of late. Failing to find much company to share drink aboard the Callehad this evening he had retired early (well.. by swashbuckling standards anyways). With their purpose renewed, the elves were poor company. He resolved to get some air.
He found it quiet topside, dark. Though the deck of the Callehad certainly had it’s familiarities; the thick scent of timber and the creaking of well oiled rigging, he could never be at home here. Missing was the gentle caressing of the sea, the soft spray of her roiling waves.
Standing at the port side he scanned over Boros, the city settling into a sleep that so evaded him. With a crooked grin he conceded that the Harpy never had a view quite like this.
Noticing a light casting him in shadow from behind, Sayer turned to see who else couldn’t find sleep.
Before him stood the slight form of an elven maiden, adorned in a shining gossamer slip of robes. She was painfully beautiful, even by Aelostrian standards. Radiant white hair fell in swift layers around her delicate face. In her eyes could be found a deep sadness. She stared up at Sayer, no more than three paces from him.
Sayer found himself frozen in place; words alluded him. The light he discerned came from no torch. It framed her, seemed to emanate from her soft, delicate skin. Before he could say a word, the young elf raised a hand, offered to him a thick fold of paper. Her eyes seemed to be pleading. Raising an eyebrow Sayer accepted the missive and just as he opened his mouth to speak there was a flash of light. A brisk wind blew in from the bay, carrying with it the salt of the ocean.
Once again he stood alone on the deck.
Awaking his friends, the companions open the parcel, finding therein four exclusive tickets to the Bacchanal of Oddities and Antiquities. Calling on Castien, they venture forth some way from town to a staging area, their thoughts on their absent friend Akasha Delithrang. Finding a tent with apparent magical properties, they each hold their ticket and step forth. Without a ticket for himself, Castien seems unable to continue, confirmed some time later through rigorous trial and error.