11th of Vhalar 721
Zemos' needlecraft kit needed some TLC, that much couldn't be denied. It was of poor quality, and he'd already gone through several wooden hooks and needles in the process of forming the pattern that he'd follow to produce the cloth armor he'd want for his expedition into the Scaltoth. More than just an expeditionary robe or long aketon, however, he wanted it to be somewhat fashioanble. So he'd taken some of the cloth he'd gotten from the Daian's, a copious amount of charcoal black material, as well as orange threaded silk and greens. The colors, to his eyes at least, would compliment each other nicely. The dominant dark green and black would provide camouflage of sorts, while the orange thread for the purposes of stitching would look nice when he wasn't about the wilderness.
He held several needles between his teeth as his tarnished brow furrowed over his work. The sleeves were one of the harder parts to assemble. A combination of cutting of cut-resistant silk, and poorly sharpened shears made his task take all the longer to complete. Add to that the difficulty of providing some quilting to the fabric, a technique he was not well versed in, and he had to redo his work several times over to correct his mistakes.
It took him near two breaks to complete his work, by the end of which he wasn't entirely satisfied, but glad enough to have done an average job stitching the fabric. The quilting was done in a diamond pattern, and woven in and out with padded cotton fibers beneath the silk. Cotton that he'd removed the seed from himself. It was long and hard work, but he found tailoring was a rewarding process, and one that he enjoyed. It gave a slight break from his studies anyway, when he needed to turn his mind off.
The Egg had little to say lately, apart from its outburst during the Combat Festival. Zemos was glad for the lack of noise, and enjoyed some solitude, although Motsi was never far from him. The Ose Bori spirit often hovered over, rarely giving more than a slight buzzing sound in reaction to what his Sev'ryn was up to.
Having finished the sleeves, he went back to the greater portion of the work, the body of the aketon, the front and back, and the hem. These he wove his needle in and out through to finish the quilting. A layer of cotton fiber was stitched, sandwiched between the forest green lining and the black exterior. The hem of the garment, or armor as it was intended to be, was slashed with a slightly brighter green than the lining. Stitched throughout with orange silk, before a few breaks passed, Zemos was mightily impressed with his work.
Soon enough, once he was done with the fine-tuning of the stitching and quilting, it'd be ready for wearing and fne fitting to his body. It was important that it fit correctly, as a ill-measured garment and indeed, one that was intended to be armor, would need to fit perfectly in order to fulfill the function of protection and coverage.
Once the sleeves were woven and stitched onto the torso portion, he reinforced the stitch several times over, precisely measuring the thread so that the stitch wouldn't be uneven or frayed. In about a break, after much work at reinforcing and covering over the protective garment, he began pulling it right-side-in as it would need to be worn. Then he slipped into it, as one would a jacket. There were several reinforced straps, pieces of hide or leather that he'd acquired that could be used to cinch the garment in place, and make sure that it fit to his form.
That done, he picked up and paced toward the window of his rented shack. There, he beheld his reflected image, utilizing his compound eyes to make it all the more easy to perceive the reflection in the darkness. He tested the fit with a few arm and torso motions, swinging this way and that. It was a long aketon, coming down below the knees at the hem, and fit perfectly to his torso. There were a few adjustments he had to make in the moment, but he was confident that he'd be able to get those done before the next step in his preparations for the journey into the Scaltoth.
Zemos left his rented shack, and made his way for the Spirit of Adventure shop, where some of his fellow students had informed him that maps of the Scaltoth could be purchased. While the University itself had its share of maps and charts and navigational data, Zemos couldn't very well borrow those for a potentially dangerous excursion into the Scaltoth jungle. There were things that even death feared in such places, and Zemos had no desire to be caught anymore unawares than he had to be.
So, a trip to Friell's quaint shop was in the cards. Zemos arrived some bits after leaving his place, and entered to the smell of sandalwood and vanilla in the main foyer. There was also a distinct scent of dust and mothballs present, that he suspected was meant to be covered by the other scents burning in the air. But no matter, Zemos wasn't of weak constitution enough to worry about such minor concerns as oddball scents.
He began browsing nosily through the shop, picking up this or that odd or end. For a few moments, it appeared nobody would attend him, until he nearly bumped into Friell himself, running up against him as he got to the literary section of the shop, which also appeared to hold several maps of various descriptions.
Zemos smiled broadly at the man, but he just fixed him with a disinterested, cold stare. "What are you here for, my friend?"
Taking that as encouragement, for few would call Zemos friend openly, the Sev'ryn jumped at the opportunity to make his needs known. "I need a map, a map of the Scaltoth. The best map you have here, if there is any."
Friell seemed to scoff at that, and shrugged his shoulders. "Of course I have maps of the Scaltoth. But they do not come cheaply..." Friell seemed to consider his customer, and tilted his head to the side as he took in the sight of his fine, protective silken gambeson.
"Can you afford the map? It's quite pricey... But then we might be able to come to an agreement of sorts."
"Oh yes! Zemos... I have coin."
"The name is Friell, not Zemos." Friell's voice had an edge to it.
"Yes, Friell.. I am Zemos, apologies." Common not being his native tongue, sometimes he had slips of diction or etiquette. He knew that many common speakers often didn't refer to themselves in the third-person.
Friell shrugged, and turned around, pacing a ways down the lane until he found himself by a set of cedar scroll cases, all of them fancifully illuminated on the outside. Yet Zemos knew that covers could be deceiving. Following after the owner of the Spirit of Adventure, he pointed toward one of the more promising scrolls that was labeled Botanical Map of the Scaltoth, "May I have a look?"
Friell shrugged, but then nodded. Then, a door chime rang, as someone entered the shop. It looked like a woman and her young daughter. Friell put on an entirely different attitude at her arrival, and muttered an aside to Zemos. "Let me know when you've decided you want to buy something."
So, Zemos was left alone to examine the map. As he uncased the scrolling map, and removed it from its case, he splayed it out a ways, an dwas treated to a very detailed and beautifully illuminated map of the jungle. There were several features, and it looked to Zemos that it would be very easy to navigate his way from one point of interest to another.
Of specific interest to Zemos, the Dead Wood, so named for reasons that were obscure to the sev'ryn. But obviously it was a place where things either died or where dead things resided. The necromancer in him was thoroughly intrigued. He wrapped the map back up and placed it in its scroll case. Then, twisting the scroll case cap on top, he slung its leather sling over his shoulder, and went over toward where Friell was. A swift nod to him, and wave of his hand, "I want to buy the map!" He smiled at Friell. The man just rolled his eyes in response, and patted the woman customer on the back, saying to her, "I'll be right with you. I have to ring up this stripling."
The rudeness wasn't entirely lost on Zemos, but he ignored it all the same. He only wanted the map, and then he'd be on his way to prepare the rest of what he'd need for the expedition.
The map ended up costing Zemos a considerable fortune, setting him back at least half a season's wage. But pay the man he did, and he was satisfied that he'd at least know where he was going while in the Scaltoth.
Whether he survived, along with his hired protection, was another thing entirely.
