A Storm Approches

It was around 11 o'clock, and the weather remained pleasantly rainy. In fact, there was a joke that the local Eelmen had over 20 words for rain in their language. This was a particularly false statement, as the weather was not a common topic of conversation, polite or otherwise. Why discuss something that rarely changed? In fact, discussing someone's health was also not a very common topic of conversation in a society that came from predator-scavengers.

A fairly large ship was ushered into the port. It was hardly a marvel, standing only four stories tall in it's gondola, but the long and sleek nature of the balloon and gondola hanging below marked it as a racing ship. A classic too from the look of it and it's custom tailoring and detail work. This ship had been someone's pride and joy.

A pity the person who currently owned it was only vaguely interested in the thing. Count Perry Fairfax was a practical sort of person and found the little details added to turn the ship into a classic were quite bothersome. As stylish as it was, the money spent on it would have been better put into funding new equipment and making old equipment safer. If fact, if it had not belong to his father (and his mother insist that he keep it), he most likely would have sold it immediately. Something about it being a symbol of status, something that had to be asserted subtly at every opportunity possible.

Once the ship and landed and been grounded, Perry was quick to head off the vessel, taking a long, quick stride of a man with purpose. He paused once he a few feet away from the entrance and return to grab a grey umbrella. His strawberry blond hair had already been soaked from the short time he spent outside and had been washed out of his neat parted style. With a frustrated groan the lord retrieved a cloth from his pocked and wiped off his oval glasses.

With a look back in the ship and a very poor attempt to holding his dignity despite the improvised bath, he glanced back at his companion. He said in his Coxish accent, "I plan to give the man one more chance to surrender before I hint him down like the dog he is. I honestly do not expect him to show up, though perhaps he has gained some wisdom and has realized he is not going to get off this island before I find him. We will wait until one, then start hunting him down. We can discuss the details of this factory my father has allegedly been planning on helping you build as we wait."

His companion, a short, slim, and rather well dressed individual, opted to have one of the two burly gents following him hold his umbrella for him. His features are hidden by a wide brimmed stovepipe hat, but his voice, a gravely interpretation of a Coxish accent easily betrays a forign nature, "I still dont quite grasp this 'alleged' business, Lord Fairfax. I understand you humans are far more fragile than my kind, but this 'amnesia' ailment my guards told me of is difficult to wrap my head around, especially considering your quick recovery." One of the guard shoots Perry an apologetic look, while the other maintains a studious focus on making sure the umbrella provides maximum coverage for the man. "We had an agreement that you would provide the technology, and assist in the funding, and I would provide the remainder, as well as the manual labor, in return for equal share in profit and product. The pale sodium will be in huge demand back in Xeyrhep, and I must be the supplier."
The man produces an odd gurgling sound as he casts his gaze around the street. "Now, while I am happy to assist you in punishing this man we are after, I am still confused as to what product he was supposed to provide. You mentioned something about communicating with yourself, but that seems pointless. Was this to be some cure for this 'amnesia' ailment?"

A hint of scorn appeared on Perry's face as he gave the nokklug a weary look. "I am not suffering from any form of amnesia. I understand you might not understand the higher sciences well enough to properly identify a mental condition, but I assure you my mind works perfectly well. I will continue my father's work with you if your contract is fair to us both. I should like to see it with my own eyes however."

Toryc releases the gurgling sound again, these frail humans never ceased to annoy him. 'What frailty causes you to loose your experiences?' He thought to himself. 'Still, at least hes willing to admit to dealing'
"Of course I have the contracts, Lord Fairfax. It would probably be best for us to go to whatever den youve prepared for us before getting into too much detail. Would you like my men to assist in delivering your ultimatum to this... faux mage (he says with easily recognizable venom) or have you already made him aware of his timeline?"

"He has already gotten his notice," Perry replied, beginning to lead the way into the city. The tall buildings around them were much, much taller than any Perry had seen in Coxland, reaching to the sky like burn trees in a forest. The constant charge in the air was wrecking havoc on Perry's hair despite the extra macassar oil he had thrown in it, the charge leaving strands to float in the air. He was quite dwarfed by the tall and skinny eelmen that populated the streets, leaving Toryc looking even smaller than normal.

When the arrived at the hotel he said he was going to meet Alistair in, Fairfax left his name with the attendant, heading back to a meeting room. The perpetual look og annoyance remained on his face as he spotted a small plate of snack, none of which were familiar to his picky tastes and none of which were even remotely Coxish. Who made fish into finger food?

He sat at the table and adjusted his simple cravat, asking, "So, what is this about a factory?" He asked, steeling his hands and looking down his glasses.

Toryc enters the room immediately after Perry, bieng largely unconcerned with the layout of the building, that bieng the guards job after all. As he enters, the two guards take post, the one with the umbrella inside the room, the other right outside the door. At Perrys question, Toryc reaches into his jacket and pulles out a collection of scrolled papers, which he spreads out on the desk, the elder Fairfaxes signiature bieng visible in a number of places. "These are the contracts you asked for, Lord Fairfax. The factory itself was to produce that wonderful pale sodium substance you were kind enough to demonstrate for me. Between our resources, we should be able to produce at least a tonne a day, if estimates are right."

"I believe you may be thinking of my father. I have not signed anything or demonstrated anything," Perry replied, glancing over the papers. He couldn't help but look impressed by what he was seeing however. A tonne a day of something previously though impossible to make synthetically. He was going to have to look more over the process.

"This, however, is an impressive process I see. Did you help with it, or are you simply a provider of resources?" He asked.

Toryc, rapidly growing annoyed with having to repeat an entire meeting, simply states, "The origional synthesis procedure was created on your end, however, I recalled studying the blueprints of a factory that produced a similar subtance in my homeland. I passed a replica of them to our workers, and the overseers assure me of these projections."

"And your homeland is where exactly?" Perry asked skeptically. He had never heard of pale sodium mass produced before. Not in any legitimate form that did not involve some sort of unproven magic ritual.

Torycs skin darkens, very slightly. "Very far distant from here, which is precisely why I chose to set up shop in this region. I do still hold concerns about applying the magic (theres that venom again) to the machinery, but the enchanters (the word is almost spat out) assure me that they will be monitering for the slightest deviance in the production line, and their contracts quite clearly state what will happen should they fail us."

"You seam to have a vendetta against magic users. Is there a reason for that?" Perry asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Where his father hardly cared for the motivations of others and prefer for things just to get done, Perry remained a scientist at heart. While people were something he didn't understand anywhere near as well as machinery, he did find himself curious how they worked. In the dissecting sense over any sort of loving sense.

Toryc shade notably pales, the guard at the door looks rather uncomfortable, though weather thats because of Torycs reaction or Fairfaxes words is difficult to say. When Toryc speaks, his voice has shifted into an almost breathy quality, like the words are notes bieng pushed through some form or woodwind instument. "Casterscausedalargedealoftroubletomyspecies,andcontinuetodoso. Thisbusinesswouldbeagreatboontonotonlymyself,butmyrace." Toryc starts slightly, as though noticing something unpleasent. He pauses for a moment, unreadable face totally blank, skin returning to its standard shade, then he continues in his usual tone. "Casters have proven themselves to be a danger to my people, and that proof has been repeated ad nauseum with every race we meet capable of the practice. My species never learned the technique to it, this puts us in an unfortunate way on the occasions where we come into contact with enemies possesing the skills."
At the return to the normal tone, the guard relaxes, but maintains a weary watch of his employer.

Perry stared at Toryc, trying to intrepid the alien sounds he was making. creature indeed, the man in front of him was more beast than man with those strange vocalizations. He found himself both repulsed and curious by the act. He wanted to know more about these creatures, and how they learned to speak English and just what they were.

"And just who do you consider your enemies?" Perry asked with a poker face, trying to determine if he was going to be handing an enemy to the Coxish empire a weapon to use against them.

The inscrutable creatue shifts his entire focus on the young man, "The ones we consider enemies are the ones who refuse to treat amicably with us. We have little desire for warfare or violence, such is the perview of barbarians, lesser biengs. We enjoy commerce, those who would trade with us, have little to fear."

"Then, if you don't mind, I need to look over these contracts and plans a bit more. I would prefer to look over these documents a bit more," Perry replied standing up. He stopped once he was standing however, a thought hitting him. It was his father that had signed these before him. He had no reason to believe he did not look them over thoroughly before he signed the contracts. That just just the sort of man he was, a perfectionist.

Perry moved to sit back down again, adding, "Actually, I don't believe I need to look these over again. If my father promised you assistance, as I have been assured he had, then I have no reason not to trust you. I promise to provide the resources and factory needed as soon as my business with Mr. Fairchild has been concluded."

Torycs expression is still difficult to read, but hes voice does have a slightly musical quality as he speaks, "This is acceptable, Lord Fairfax. If youd like, the serfs and I could accompany you, to ensure against further misdealings. I believe you are bieng too lenient on the swindler, but in the spirit of good will, I shall help you in enacting your own system of justice." Unknown to Perry, in most other situations, Toryc would have charged for the offered assistance, but here, a number of circumstances converged to make him uncharictaristically charitable. 1) He was desperate for the Pale Sodium, and is banking on the engendered goodwill coming to his aid in later negotiations. 2) His species bias against both casters and deal breakers gave him hope that, with the offer of aid, Lord Fairfax might also let him choose the method of punishment. Finally 3) While Nokklugs despise weakness of any sort, the apperant ailment that Lord Fairfax was suffering, this 'amnesia' sillyness, struck a chord with Toryc, "What would it be like to loose my memories" he thought, pityingly to the young man.

With a bit of an anxious look, Perry disengaged the conversation for a moment to retrieve his pocket watch from his jacket's pocket. He casually flipped the face open and examined it with some anxiety. "I don't believe their presence would be required, though they would be welcome." A small smile appeared on his face, though it lacked any sort of warmth or genuine joy. "Funny you should say that, I have been hearing the opposite from both my peers and mother."

The young count moved to stand again. "If you will excuse me, I have been waiting here long enough for Mr. Fairchild. I believe I need to seek him out myself. You're free to accompany me in my pursuits if you want, though I imagine they will be a great bit duller than the world's fair that is currently going on here."

Toryc waves its hand and makes a slight whistling sound, "I am largely uninterested in this 'fair' the slimers have set up, seems just an excuse to hide their marketing to me. Besides, I wish to ensure that no further harm comes to you, nor any further setbacks to the factory, so I shall accompany you." With that he stands, politely waiting for Lord Farifax to lead the way. The thug at the door opens it, and exchanges some words with the one outside, who can be seen walking off through the space in the door. The interior thug then positions himself to open the door fully at the approach of either Lord Fairfax, or Toryc himself.

Lord Fairfax nodded to Toryc, politely mentioning, "Very well, though my affairs will involve quite a bit of waiting. I know where Mr Fairchild is likely to show up, but not when."

With that he exited the room in a quick, determined pace, a walk with a purpose. He knew exactly where he was going next, though he honestly could not say how long he would spend there. The convict had left Phiah on a little ship known as the Heat, and he was more than certain that that was where he was staying at the moment.

Toryc watched the young man get a bit of a head start, then, shaking his head and releasing a gurgling sound, set off after him with his hencman in tow. The other caught up with them just as Toryc hit the door, carrying a small bag with some of the local cuisine stored inside. Both the thugs knew that the quickest way to the bosses heart was through his stomach, and they figured theyd need a way to keep him calm while the Lord was dealing with this swindler. And with that, they set off into the rain.