Distressing Dawn [22 Nivvem 4385]

[sythyry]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Distressing Dawn [22 Nivvem 4385]

Jagraton sat up in bed as dawn gave him new cley. This was somewhat remarkable, as (1) he was now able to move his own body, without interference or even residual clumisiness from the paralysis; and (2) he was no longer drunk, though he was enjoying one of the most vicious hangovers of his whole life.

“Ho there, foreign Sir Mister. Are you awake now?” asked the tall Orren woman in the next bed.

“I am — oh, I am! Do you know what has become of Prince Rastomil?” asked Jagraton, who had not as yet assembled the story in his mind quite so coherently as it has been presented thus far.

“Sir Mister, I don’t know who or what your Prince Rastomil is or might be. was he also teleporting around, blind drunk? ’cause if he was doing that, that’s not a good idea in Hanija, Sir Mister.”

Jagraton got out of bed and engulfed two quarts of water. He had been stripped and re-dressed in the night, and he was wearing a pleasing peach nightgown. “I hope he wasn’t, then. Where am I, and where are my clothes and equipment?”

“You’re in the Bipothzing Residence. I’m Ropaf Bipothzing, at your service,” said the Orren woman. “Your clothes and weapons are off in the laundry-room, hanging to dry. I have never seen so many weapons in one fumbergine’s clothes! Not that I often have call to strip a fumbergine naked and dress him and put him to bed and count his weapons, mind you, for I’m not that sort of a girl.”

“Well, allow me to thank you for saving my life. I was just about out of tricks,” said Jagraton.

Ropaf curtsied. “Quite welcome! I’m a poor boat-woman, and you’re a wealthy fumbergine, but I’m the one to pull a Rassimel out of a canal when he needs it most!”

Jagraton collected his weapons and proper clothes, got directions, and gave Ropaf a respectable reward, and, lacking any useful ideas, headed back to Strayway.

Helping the Prince [22 Nivvem 3485]

Jagraton returned to Strayway, having lost Prince Rastomil, and nearly his own life. He didn’t have much hope that the Hanijan city guard would be terribly helpful at poking at a member of the greater nobility. So he asked us for help. This would have gone better if he had made himself well-loved in the skyboat beforehand.

“Ah, Grinwipey, my good man…” said Jagraton to the first adventurer sort of person he found on board.

Grinwipey is not the best target for that. “Foh! I’m your good man now? Years and years I spend with Sythyry and Castle Wrong, fending off advance after gleensnigging advance from all these porkydotting traffs, and suddenly! With no notice at all! I’m your man! And your good one, at that! Without even being asked if I’d rather have your piffipoker in my snoodberry, or whether I’d prefer it in my gunders! A fine frottle of frogs this is! Even Inconnu’s not half so rude!”

“No! That’s not what I mean…”

There is little escape from Grinwipey when he’s in a mood. “No? No? You’re spurning me? You’re rejecting me? You’re out-and-out flobbering breaking up with me? After all our time together, all those evenings of squelchy romance, all our adventures! You’re just sending me off with just a ‘not what I mean’? You lout, you vundrel, you pile of gromp’s shomps! I’m just burnt squid eggs on toast for you to take up when you want me and feed to your pet geese when you don’t, am I?”

“It’s an emergency!”

“Oh, that’s what you all say, you two-legged pluffers. You get all sweet and seductive, with them words all dipped in malt syrup. Then when I’m all seduced and everything, ready to render up the virginity that I’ve preserved so carefully through four marriages — and you’re all “it’s an emergency!” and toss me off like a used-up squirtie-hankie. What’s this emergency of yours you’re making up? You met yourself a flousy floozy, one what can actually find your dingerdong under your fur and can pretend to enjoy the nine seconds between intromission and extrohaustion, and that’s the sort of emergency to dump me?”

“Nothing of the sort! Prince Rastomil has been kidnapped or murdered!”

“Well, ain’t that the whip’s tips! You’d better go goggle off to the prince’s loyal bodyguard, the one what won’t let the prince out of his sight for a minute on account of he’s so dorbitty concerned with the prince’s safety and well-being, and ask him about it. Much more efficient than making those passes at the ship’s tailor what never did anyone a flea’s worth of harm.”

Jagraton stomped off to find me, with Grinwipey floating behind. He actually found Phaniet, since I was busy with that morning’s work.

“Phaniet! I need your help!” cried Jagraton.

“Oh, he does, he does. He’s gotten himself all erunct and horniry over me, and I sure as sheepwrack won’t shimmer his shindig. So who does he go looking for, but Sythyry? Probably needs a finding-spell, he does,” noted Grinwipey helpfully.

“Shush, Grinwipey. What’s wrong, Jagraton?” Phaniet kept her voice carefully cool and professional. She doesn’t actually like Jagraton very much.

“The prince! He’s been kidnapped or murdered or something!”

Phaniet nodded. “That could be unfortunate, or even sad. Tell me more?”

“Can I please see Sythyry and Vae?”

“Not unless you persuade me it’s important,” said Phaniet. “As of now, you look like a Rassimel imitating an Orren in a wild rush.”

So the bodyguard told Phaniet a chopped-up and scrambled version of the story. After which, Phaniet said, “Well, you were certainly quite drunk. The rest of the story will take some checking. It doesn’t sound all that plausible, even from you.”

“Quickly! Quickly!”

Phaniet was not inclined to move quickly. “First of all, did Prince Rastomil come home last night? If he did, that would indicate that he was not kidnapped, and even reduce the likelihood that he was murdered.” But checking with Windigar in the pilot’s chamber found that Rastomil was not on board. “Well — he was supposed to be seeking a dissolute lifestyle. Perhaps he is simply sleeping in with this appealing Lady Noshi — illegally — or even enjoying a second round before breakfast?”

“No! I’m sure it’s worse than that!”

“Oh, dear. You do seem quite jealous. Why don’t you trot ’round to Lady Noshi’s house and ask after him? If he’s been kidnapped, I’m sure someone will want to hand you a ransom note,” said Phaniet.

“They tried to kill me!”

Phaniet flicked her tailtip. “Well, you are an adequate warrior, I believe. Simply don’t let them paralyze you or get you stinking drunk, and you should be fine.”

“I need assistance! The prince’s life is at stake!”

Phaniet shrugged. “I will be glad to assist you save the prince, should he need saving. At the moment I think you are misunderstanding the situation, based on an overload of strong drink and other peculiar Hanijan intoxicants, and, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised, jealousy as well. Still, if you want assistance, ask Jyondre and Yerenthax. They’re usually good for an adventure.”

So Jagraton did. He also collected Bryef (who was his official but uninspired deputy) and Invincible Fire Demon.

Comments

[shurhaian.livejournal.com]

Not being one who had to endure him all this time, I suppose I shouldn't be over-critical of Phaniet's reaction.

Still... this seems like unaccustomed humility from Jagraton. That in itself is a point of concern if viewed from a neutral position. I do hope she didn't completely disregard his message; trying to kill someone's bodyguard, no matter how little-loved that bodyguard is, really should be read as a bad sign for that someone.

[rowyn]

Yeah. It's not like it's Rastomil's fault that Jagraton is a jerk, and Rastomil is the one who's going to suffer for Phaniet not taking it seriously. :( And so far as I know, it's not like Jagraton has a reputation for being the bodyguard-who-cried wolf. :/

[sianmink.livejournal.com]

Well, it's good advice. Jyronde and Yerenthax should be the easiest for an outsider to convince on some rescue mission or other.

Wrongfolks perhaps shouldn't be so dismissive of the super-serious bodyguard who has no prior history of getting soused on the job who claims he was not in fact soused on the job but was in fact poisoned.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

Wrongfolks want Jagraton to do his homework first!

[brynndragon.livejournal.com]

Although, if Phaniet wanted him to do his homework, she would have sent him to people who would go for a fact-finding mission, rather than a rescue mission.

FWIW, I just figure he *really* pissed her off at some point (or multiple points) and she severely doesn't want to have anything to do with him or his prince.

[shurhaian.livejournal.com]

Which would be understandable except that in the situation Jagraton describes, time is of the essence. No, it wouldn't be good to charge off half-cocked, but seriously, an attempt to murder someone's bodyguard generally doesn't bode well for that someone. Brushing him off when he's so unusually agitated, and applying a reasoning that is blatantly out of his character, is grossly unfair to Rastomil, never mind Jagraton himself. And I was under the impression that Rastomil, while not traff, had generally treated the Wrongfolk with enough respect to not be worthy of this contempt.

By the time anyone finds him, Rastomil might be content to stay... if he still lives. But he might not have arrived at that contentment of his own free will.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

Phaniet here. Time wasn't of the essence at that point. It had been the night before. But, by the morning, if Jagraton had been right and they'd wanted Prince Rastomil dead, say, he would have been dead hours before. If they'd wanted Prince Rastomil kidnapped, well, he was kidnapped hours before, and we'd be getting a ransom note shortly.

We certainly were friendly with Rastomil, and wished him well.

Jagraton and Wentalilla had been overbearing, demanding, and contemptuous. We didn't feel obliged to tolerate them much, at that point.

Still, we did wind up being helepful.

[shurhaian.livejournal.com]

There are more subtle and insidious fates than merely extorting a ransom, but I suppose I have to concede the point at least somewhat.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

Phaniet here. Yes, there certainly are -- I know several of them quite intimately -- but relatively few can be done in, say, fifteen hours but not ten, or however long it has been. Jagraton had failed his job, and we were going to have to pull his fingers out of the fire; but we did not have to enjoy it.

[shurhaian.livejournal.com]

Relatively few, indeed. Someone who's using nasty sorts of persuasion - or, say, some sorts of drugs - must defeat the subject's own endurance and will, and that's a great variable. But in most cases, yes, I see what you mean. Especially when there are more potent and surer options available for people who are willing to be that vile(here, there generally aren't; no magic, no such potent drugs), it's probably a safe bet that whatever they want to do to Rastomil, they have done; I'll concede that.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

[Sythyry wishes me to inform you that, although zie does not like to rebuke zir clients in public, zie thinks Phaniet should have been more urgently careful of the fate of our passenger and friend Prince Rastomil. Not that it would have mattered in this case.]

[terrycloth.livejournal.com]

Heeheehee. "The prince has been kidnapped!" "My gods! This sounds like a job for his bodyguard! Fetch him at once!"

[kris-schnee.livejournal.com]

And by the time they find the prince, he'll probably have been moved to another castle.

[arkofeden.livejournal.com]

(...I hate to jump in with random editing, but near the end of the first section Jagraton turns into Rastomil for a couple of mentions. :))

--R&.

[gavinfox.livejournal.com]

Ya, those two names seem to be weird. I have trouble keeping them straight too!

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

[They have the same rhythm, I think. I have trying to call the one "Prince Rastomil" to keep them more separate. -bb]

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

[Apologies! Thank you for telling me.]