[Post here first!] The Harbor

Roarin steps off the boat and looks around blearily. His voice is hoarse and angry as he mutters to himself.

"Where da bloody hell am I and why is it so fukin hot."

The old man grumbles, even more, when he finds he is without a flask. What in the burning hells had happened? The last thing he remembered was ceding Carmela Island to Gauldin and then he'd... Gotten very, very drunk. Apparently, his bender had been epic enough for memory loss because he didn't know where he was or how he got there. Just that he'd woken up in the belly of a ship not five minutes ago. The old man looks around for someone who looks like they have their head outside there ass.

"Oi, were da bloody hell am I?"

Roarin looks at the priestess confused. Normally the lecherous mayor would have his hands all over the pretty girl, but he had bigger concerns now. For example figuring out what he was going to do.

"Sakand? How in the blue blazes did I wind up in Sakand?"

Roarin lets out a groan then as his body spasms in pain. Every muscle contracting painfully at the same time, Shit he was sobering up, never a good thing in his condition. He begins to paw at his pockets for a flask of something anything, but he is absolutely tapped out. He looks for his portable hole but that's gone as well. The only thing he has are the clothes on his back, his wineskin of Demon's Roar, a vial of Mortal's Coil, and a vial of Angel's Tears. And the stone, of course, the damnable stone never went far from his possession, even when he was black out drunk.

Looking at the pretty woman he opens his mouth to ask where the nearest ale house is when another spasm strikes, sending the old man tumbling to the ground. His face contorts in pain and his body spasms painfully, but he doesn't make a sound. Roarin was far too old to do something as undignified as scream, even if he was dying.

The charm against minor pain didn't help much, but it did let him get out through gritted teeth.

"Muscle...relaxant..."

This was bad, the pain had always come in waves of varying intensity. The ailment that plagued him being part biological and part magical was very temperamental. This, however, was an attack more potent and painful than any before. The pain wracking through his body in waves that kept him from slipping into unconsciousness. He can feel himself being lifted and hopes that it's more than one man. Roarin may have been short, but he was wide and he was still mostly muscle. One man would probably have a lot of difficulty carrying him over any great distance.

Roy stepped off the ship, squinting in the bright sunlight. He'd have to be careful out here. If it weren't for his enchanted floating parasol, he'd be burned to a crisp for sure. He sighed, looking at the list of exotic spices his uncle had told him to purchase. He really did have to learn how to say no to his uncle's extravagant errands. Last time he'd gone to get ingredients for his uncle, he'd almost been eaten by a dragon! He sighed, and looked around the harbor. Where was he supposed to get spices, anyways? He didn't even know what Poivre Peppers looked like.

"Heh?"

Roy was taken aback by the sudden appearance of the super friendly priestess. People certainly were...welcoming around here. He smiled awkwardly at the priestess, inadvertently showing off a mouthful of pointed white fangs. Perhaps she would be able to help him, she seemed to be the helpful sort.

"Er...Hello! Thanks for the welcome...I'm Roy. I'm looking for somewhere to buy spices...do you know where I could get these? I don't know what these things are..."

He handed her a piece of paper with the following list written on it:

Poivre Peppers

Pyramid Anise

Desert Nutmeg

Azúcar Leaf

Dolce Root

Miel Essence

Roy nodded patiently. Of course, she had a job to do. He pocketed the list and headed towards the gate, out of the docks. Perhaps he'd be able to find someone who could read his list. He didn't know what a Azúcar Leaf was supposed to even look like. If only Uncle Renalt had drawn pictures or something.

A caravel flying the personal standard of Ryden Greyiron, chancellor of Isra came to a halt harbourside, as a plank was thrown to bridge the gap between the ship and the land. Specially modified to be manned by only twelve or so men, the caravel was commissioned by Ryden personally, and was used for the majority of his long-distance diplomatic work.

As the plank came down, the chancellor disembarked from the watercraft, taking a moment to reorientate himself to hard stone being beneath his boots. Once he found his way, though, he looked up and around at the sights of Sakand, whilst taking in the sounds of the city. Dressed not in his formal apparel, nor his armour, he stood, comfortable and easy, in an understatedly tasteful, yet clearly expensive tunic over black trousers. Despite the lack of bodily protection, he kept his ancestral sword safely sheathed by his side. Unlike his armour, he was not content to let one of his accompanying personal guard carry his blade.

Alongside two of his guard, Ryden waited on the dock for an official representative to come and admit them to the city.

It did not surprise Ryden that the Lady of Sakand herself was not present to welcome him. To act as such would be... unbefitting of the reputation that he had heard of, and he was glad to see that his information was not entirely wrong. He would be content to wait until she was ready to receive him. Once they reached that stage, though... all bets were off.

The young priestess offered her compulsory affection towards Ryden, though seemingly with a degree more intent than usual, and, to match her sentiment, the chancellor winked at her, his implication clear to see to those who were paying attention. His accompanying guards remained statuesque despite the beautiful young women tending to them.

After the women were dismissed, Ryden turned his attention to Ambassador Sashriq, assessing the man, briefly, before considering his question. In reply to the bow, he offered a typically deep nod of respect.

"My thanks for your welcome, Ambassador. I will be pleased to join you on a tour of the sights of the city until the Lady is ready to receive me. After you, please."

Ryden gestured forwards, allowing the ambassador to lead him. Despite his warm smile and affable tone, his intention was perfectly clear. If Lady Fairuz was going to make Ryden wait to see her, then he would wait in the company of her ambassador as he served him with a guided tour of the city. As they began to walk, they would be accompanied by four of his guard, while the rest of his entourage would stay aboard the ship until further orders. The chancellor decided to wait to disclose the ace in his hand for when he met the lady Fairuz herself. There was no point in wasting it on the ambassador.

"My journey was as pleasant as can be expected, thank you. There is only so much joy a man of the land can derive from a being at sea, no matter his destination or the comfortability of his cabins."

Of course, being a custom outfit, the chancellor's caravel was in fact exceptionally comfortable, and, except for the occasional turbulence of the water they were sailing through, there was barely any discernible difference between being at sea and on land, but Ryden had never enjoyed the water, and so was nothing short of relieved to be back on dry land.

Ryden, and, subsequently, his guards, kept pace with the initial long strides of Sashriq. He was no stranger to walking in such a manner, which was a fact that would not change any time soon. "I would hope so. After all, I am here primarily to speak with her, and it seems clear that her work on the city is... effective. As early an audience as possible would be preferable." They continued on through the side-door in the great wall, smoothing down to single file to fit through. 

Whilst his accompaniment expressed their surprise by briefly and imperceptibly stiffening and recoiling, before relaxing as they realised the previously-unknown elephants posed no threat, the chancellor registered no shock, but instead a marked degree of satisfaction. He had read about the creatures when he looked into the region before his trip, and was quite interested to see what they looked like. He presumed they were young, or stunted, as they did not nearly match the sizes cited by his atlas.

Quite elegantly and without aid, Ryden stepped up and onto the elephant's platform, taking the seat on the far side. He looked back to the ambassador who would presumably follow him in, considering the bronzed man once again. He was... an interesting sort, fairly boring as ambassadors went. He had offered no sort of interesting or intriguing conversation in the time they had spent together thus far, and had been plenty enough time to do so. After the younger man climbed in, Ryden would turn to face forward, accepting a goblet, if it was offered to him.