An Interesting Visit

Before the Swan-ship
The waves crash and shatter against the rough stone that forms the coast here, exploding into tall plumes of foam that stretch to the skies and fall back to the seas again to join the chaotic mass of cascading salt water. This shelf of naturally formed stone, however, seems untouched by the deadly caress of the Blood Sea and its malevolent onslaught, protected by powerful druidic magics which keep this harbour amazingly calm. Two slender towers reach into the air, their bases of solid dwarven design which melds into a tall elf turret. Facing each other with stone arms raised in peace, the glorious statues of both a Quendi Elf and Khazad Dwarf crest the towers, a memorial of the magnificent bridge which once spanned the sea to touch the soils of Irrybis on the other side, and the collaborative effort of both dwarf and elf which accomplished this feat of architecture and sorcery. Rocking gently in the water at her pier, the Tinu Elena awaits passengers seeking the home of the Quendi, a beautiful vessel crafted in the form of a graceful swan.

Another ship turns away from the pier of Irrybis, gliding over the choppy waves of the Blood Sea, its large hull banking the waters as it changes direction. The pier is small, not really a port and not exactly busy. There are more hobbits than elves roaming about the shelf that made up the pier while the Elf guards stationed near to the dock used by the Tinu Elena look on with a grim slitted expression at a halfling trying to set up a fruit stall next to one of the pier posts. [Israfel]

The Tinu Elena herself glides up on the dark still waters churned slightly by the enroaching currents of the surrounding Blood Sea and docks, a ramp is lowered from the ship to the pier; a few slim figures dressed in greens or whites descending from it. [Israfel]

A small vessel arises from the depths, all shimmering fins and gaudy colors. The ship itself seems little more than a racing yacht, owned by some rich, and likely colorblind sea-elf. Once on the surface, the vessel slows to a crawl and weighs anchor, as if waiting. [Ashandra]

An Elven guard looks up at the newest ship that arrived, the emergence of that vessel from the depths labeling it immediately as one from the Aerandir. But his attention is swept back to the Elear Israfel who is the last to disembark from the Tinu Elena, a few missives scrolled and held in one of his hands, and he also notices the presence of the sea elven ship, the poor taste of its color scheme definitely an eyesore against the deep black-blue waves. [Israfel]

Music began ringing out from the Aerandir ship, echoing over the waves and floating to the ears of all not distracted with other tasks. In contrast with the poor taste of the ships colors, the music is haunting and guided by a different set of rules than most. The song almost sounds like the call whales use over great distances. In fact, that may be what it is, a call to the shore to announce the presence of the gaudy craft. [Ashandra]

The hobbits or the said hobbit attempting to set up his fruit stall freeze in their motion, crates of bruised apples grappled in their chubby hands, as they turn towards the source of the ethereally odd music. Israfel stashes his missives away in that folder he is carrying and with much pragmatism on his face, shakes his head at the guard standing at attention next to him, murmuring "Inform the Tari we have visitors now, from the Aerandir."

He, himself, strolls towards the parked, singing craft with much intent and purpose, wondering why it is here at such short notice after the Quendi had cleansed their Island from the Pixie King's taint. [Israfel]

Eventually the music fades, followed by a bit of scuffling below decks. A man in a white uniform emerges from below decks. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor and pleasure to…" the man shouted and suddenly ceased as he was greeted by an unanticipated sight. "Ehhh? What are we…" he mumbles, looking back over his shoulder to his maps. [Ashandra]

Israfel's very pale eyebrows arch up in a mild notion of surprise, not exactly all unpleasant but all that fanfare for something so wretchedly ridiculous? He walks up to the man in white, not to harangue him but perhaps, very politely ask why (in all of the Gods' names) is he here. And there appears the Elear, as he passes by the makeshift fruit stall with a quite frightened hobbit staring up at the tall elf from their half-stacked pyramid of oranges, right infront of the uniformed male, bowing > just barely in courtesy. [Israfel]

"Ah well, a good salesman is always where he needs to be." the man mumbles to himself, turning once again to his new hosts. He nearly jumps out of his skin once he realizes he is staring at a high ranking elf, likely with a pixie assassin nearby. [Ashandra]

"A good salesman?" Israfel's eyebrow dwells even higher and his blue eyes peer like rain lancing puddles at the uniformed man. "So." The Elear comes to much deduction at the man's garb and the obvious slip in his words; "You are a trader?" [Israfel]

"Aye sir, that I am, a pernicious purveyor of goods, a peddler of sweets, and authorized by the speaker herself to help achieve the dreams of costumers in any corner of the globe." the man chanted, likely something he had said hundreds of times before, and something he would say again. As his head began to clear he noticed the only people under 4 feet present were hobbits, no pixies in sight. "What might I get for you today sir?" [Ashandra]

That sounds highly suspicious enough, a sea elf peddler driving up an ostentious looking submarine lookalike and attempting to sell sweets to the general Elven populace while they are in the middle of attempting to end a war? Israfel draws his intial remark into a polite cough. Behind him, some halflings are nudging each other in curiosity, attempting to get a better look at the salesman. "So." He attempts once more unhelpfully. "You are selling sweets only?" [Israfel]

"I have a few other things sir, if you name your wish I may be able to find it below decks." the man says helpfully. "Say, things are rather calm here." [Ashandra]

"How about something that can kill a big monster?" A hobbit quipped out of his turn from behind the Elear, before Israfel can even open his mouth to ask. The halfling's apron was stained with fruit juice. It is the illegal fruit-stall owner of earlier who attempted to peddle his fruit without permission. [Israfel]

"That I just might!" the salesman cheers as he vanishes below decks. A few moments later he appears again with a spear that seems made entirely of silver in his hands. "If I recall correctly, this would even work on a werewolf." [Ashandra]

The fruit selling hobbit's eyes gleam now that the salesman has appeared with a weapon; but that immediately brought a different reaction from the Elven guards stationed around the pier, their own swords drawn and pointed towards the sea elf trader. "Are you trying to attack us!" One of the guards shouted, fencing his sword in front of him protectively. "This must be an agent of the Doom King, Elear. We must get rid of him." Voices another, hustling aside the drooling hobbits and trying to get to the front of the commotion. [Israfel]

Staring over the crowd, fear runs across the sea-elf's face momentarily, before breaking out into long and raucous laughter. He attempts to speak as the laughter overcomes not only his ability to speak but even stand. [Ashandra]

The laughter from the salesman further angered the nearest Elven guard and he is about the attempt to feint when the white clad arm of the Elear arches out to bar the guard, preventing any semblance of conflict from happening. [Israfel]

"I see you might have more than one of those stored in your ship?" The Elear begins a little slower than usual, fending off the hobbits that have began eagerly crowding around to be part of the excitement. "Maybe we can talk somewhere else, trader, about your real reason for being here." With that, he softly clicks his tongue a little, either in approval or irritation, and turns away towards one of the less crowded piers, expecting the Aerandir trader to follow. [Israfel]

The trader was laughing to hard to notice the danger he was in. He nods as he attempts to follow the important looking elf. Eventually he regains his ability to speak. "Invade… heh heh. Me! Alone against an army of trained killers!" he chuckles, almost collapsing into another fit of paralyzing laughter. He could sense a sale in the making however, and brings to bear all of his will to stifle his laughter. "Please sir, call me Helphyre, and I am willing to procure for you and yours anything within my means." [Ashandra]

"Helphyre?" The Elear glances back behind one shoulder, cocking his eyebrow incredulously. "Fine. I'll call you that. Or I should." The elf shrugs and turns back to note his destination that is visually marked infront of him, one of the lesser-to-unused smaller piers.

He notices out of the corner of his eye, how the hobbits seem to follow the two with a wanton stare, their chubby hands probably eager to get whatever hack and slash stash is in that strange trader's ship. [Israfel]

The trader was still chuckling to himself as he began to realize the implications of his name. "I'm sorry, as you probably guessed this is my first time trading with the surface. I just remembered that name has different meaning in common than at home." he grins. "I assure you I am hardly as threatening as the cargo makes me to be." [Ashandra]

Now that they are alone upon that unused pier towards the end and with the guards barring the curious hobbits away, Israfel looks at the trader closely. "You're hardly as threatening, Sir. But the cargo you bring; you did bring it for a reason, am I not correct?" [Israfel

"I must admit to having other buyers for those items, but given their directions, and reputation I do not think they intended to buy." Helphyre says, once he feels it Is safe to speak again.

"Though I think Gaiar has sent me here when I needed to be. The purpose for me being here is that I just might have something you need." [Ashandra]

That whole explanation had been rather helpful, Israfel thought dryly to himself. "You might have something the halflings need, compared to us." The Elear says emphatically, not exactly keen to let loose of the Quendi's current circumstances. "But tell me then, what do you have?" [Israfel]

The merchant nods. "I just assumed the halflings were always that… curious." he says, continuing to chuckle, and taking a mental inventory of the goods on his ship. "Well, mostly I have deserts and candies from the Coral Kingdom, as well as a few defensive scrolls to help get away from any trouble. Then I have several bundles of moonsilver spears. It was odd… the men wanted me to be very certain they were pure moonsilver, haft to edge." he ponders, scratching his chin. [Ashandra]

"Wouldn't that be the stuff to kill werewolves with?" Israfel folds his arms over his chest and ponders. Then he eyes the trader in pretended confusion. "Why would we need that? There is no werewolf distressing the Quendi. Unless you're telling me that you know something is lurking around here, and I do not know of?" [Israfel]

Helphyre looks quickly behind his shoulder, and mutters a prayer under his breath. "I certainly hope that isn't the case… I couldn't competently use one of those spears to roast a pig, let alone fight off werewolves… but it may not be my good that are important, but the timing. I have a fast ship, and good connections. Your ports seems rather… barren at the moment and in need of more trade." [Ashandra]

"I suppose you are correct. But we are still at war. So I suppose some contract might be arranged regarding certain trade pacts." The Elear replies slowly and casts a glance over at the sea elf craft moored at the pier. [Israfel]

Then he looks again at Helphyre. "Do you work for your Uelma or are you yourself a mercenary?" [Israfel]

"That is a tough question to answer these days." he responds with some thought. "But for me, I am contracted under the Uelma, and am given permission to speak with the council about any trade opportunities that I see." [Ashandra]

"I'll speak of your proposition with the Tari Annale then." Israfel sufficiently promises. He lifts his gaze over the trader's shoulder and at the hobbits clamoring for a piece of news. "You may want to find a place to stay for the night." [Israfel]

The Elear adds, a little not too warningly, "And be careful of the hobbits here, they like to borrow things." [Israfel]

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