A Silver of Insight

Log Info

• Title: A Silver of Insight
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Un'eth, Vaera, Geir
• Place: The Wilderness
• Time: December 28th, 2021
• Summary: On the main path to Mictlan, on a fair weather yet snowed day, Skielstregar is busy clearing the trail of fallen debris. A Dire Wolf casually approaches from up the trail, Shaman Un'eth inspecting what is going on. Skiel seeks some advice, sharing about the strange phenomena of him growing in size as well as his shedding scales. The latter, Un'eth surmises, is Skiel taking control of his affliction and bending it to his own whims finally. Vaera shows up, spooking Skiel for a moment before they get to sharing words about his scales falling off, and how itchy he was. Geir comes along, pondering along with this conundrum before it is is revealed there are tiny silver scales growing on the half-undead makari! Vaera and Skiel go celebrate with food as Geir heads his way to the city itself.

The Wilderness, a half hour out from Mictlan. Noon.

There is a break in the chilly weather. The sun is out, filtering through the branches of leafless trees and illuminating the woods from the blanket of snow. Dazzling, and different than the norm as the shadows were banished, leaving just distant cracks of wood or a braying of an animal in the distance.

A lumbering figure in a cloak and breastplate, armed with his array of weapons is busy shoving a dead tree off the main trail between Wilderness Pointe and Mictlan. The tarnished scale huffs at the work, eventually moving the dead log off to the side. A foot raises to scratch at the other leg, knocking off a handful of flaking scales before it goes back into the snow of a light crunch. "... why was there a goldscale there...?" Skielstregar wonders to himself, idly looking to the sky as if it held answers...

The chill of the season is nothing new here, and some have become quite acclimated to such. Admittedly, fur is far more effective against the cold than scales. Thus the rather large lupine lumbers onto and along the trail.

The movement ahead is spied, with the toil and toiler both recognized soon after. As she nears with casual inconspicuousness belying her size, the white-furred one rumbles out, "Peace on your nest." <draconic>

Skielstregar quits his musings, shaking his head and looking to the ground. "Twas odd..." he rumbles, before he looks up to spot a large canine approaching casually. At this point, the makari is able to hazard a guess that it was- "Shaman Un'eth. Peace on your nest," he greets warmly in the same tongue. "It is good to see you once more. How do you fare?"

Dire Wolf looses a light snort. Once she reaches a more compressed portion of the trail near the other, she pauses. "I am well, Mictlan is well, Ea is well. You are well?" She then clears errant snow or other debris from her fur via the typical method: a brief but vigorous shake.

Skiel chuffs at the shaking, an amused rumble in his chest. "That is good to hear."

Though, the question poised makes him sigh, and he sits down on the felled log he just shoved aside. He scratches his upper arm. "Ah, well... this one is... fine? They think? There has been some developments as of late. Honestly, your guidance would be most welcome. The other day, this one was cutting trees. They grew very tired, then, without warning, they grew big! Twice as tall!" he explains him stretching his hands far out to the sides as if that would help elaborate how massive he claims he became. "It did not last long. But this one is confused on how it came about."

Oddly enough, the flaky tarnished scale no longer exuded that deathly scent.

With nostrils cleared, Un'eth sniffs at him. Once. Twice. Three times the inhalation. "You have changed... and not only in your size nor only briefly." A pause for thought. "The magic within you. You now mold it, not it you." An opinion, most likely, though it is not stated as such. Neither does she clarify precisely what she refers to.

Skielstregar bobs his head slowly. "Vaera mentioned much of the same," he notes after being inspected. Though, his brows pinch some. "... you think so? This one is... worried that it might be doing something else. They have been, well, 'letting loose' so to speak on their own terms to get a better handle on it. It has helped, but after being large, they worry some if it is... they do not know if it is weal or woe."

He scratches at his arm again. A few more scales flake off. "... and not to mention their scale condition is getting worse. So itchy..."

GAME: Vaera rolls stealth: (15)+11: 26

"You could be molting," Un'eth suggests simply as she eyes the bronze critically. It could also be that he is now somehow rotting from the outside in, but she does not immediately offer that as an alternative. "You are what you are, and also what you choose to be."

GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (4)+8: 12

Skielstregar frowns slightly, and gives a small sigh. "... but this one doesn't regrow their scales. If they molt, then they will look like a silly softskin. Oh, the jokes that will be had at his expense!" He's being a bit playfully dramatic, though its tinged with a hint of actual worry.

Vaera was nearby in the forest, and keeping an eye on Skielstregar as he went to gather the wood. And she continued her hunting nearby until the bronzescale was meeting with a large dire wolf. She was likely spotted by the druid, and decides to make her presence known.

"Good day, shaman Un'eth and Skielstregar." She greets. "It is good to see you, I hope you are both doing alright this day."

Her presence known was still not noticed by Skielstregar. Not until she spoke. The large man yelps, flails a bit, then falls off the log and into the snow with a soft >Paff!<

Skiel lightly groans, him getting back up and shaking the snow off, a tinge of embarrassment coming from him. "Hello Vaera, peace on your nest. This one is well, for the most part. Shaman Un'eth here thinks that... change the other day is due more in part of this one getting better at controlling their issues rather then the issues controlling them."

Vaera chuffs and runs over when Skielstregar tumbles into the snow, and she offers a hand to pull him back up. "Careful, Skiel." She says, before she sighs at the news shared. "That is, good. Wonderful. I am glad it is not things going more out of control. I have heard of sorcerers who have a penchant for that."

she waits a moment, before pulling the bronzescale into a hug. "I am glad it is alright. Thank you for your guidance, shaman Un'eth."

Skiel takes the hand readily and carefully pulls himself to his feet. He nods in thanks, then smiles lightly. "Yes, this one... may have to try it again in the future, just so they don't end up like sorcerers that do that."

The hug surprises him. He blinks a bit stupidly before carefully wrapping Vaera in both arms. There is a light >crunch< that comes between them.

Embarrased, the man pulls away and rattles at his clothes, even more flakes of scales falling out. "... apologies."

Vaera chuffs and steps back at the crunching noise, and seems worried for a moment. "No, it is alright, it is my fault for trying to hug you." The redscale sighs, seeing the scales falling away. "Are you sure you are doing alright? That is sudden, and I know your scales do not grow like others do. Perhaps you should take a soak in the river? The cold should not bother you, and it will help."

Skielstregar coughs into his fist, and shakes his head. "No no, you didn't know. Shaman Un'eth thinks this one is molting. Which... would be bad. They would be a softskin," he weakly chuckles. The man holds up an arm, the tarnished scales starting to flake around the edges.

He shrugs, looking down a bit. "This one could. It is... really, really itchy," he says while making good on that, scratching at his arm as more flakes drift free. "Though, this one is uncertain how much it will help."

"it will help, if they are falling off." Vaera advises, watching Skielstregar for a moment, before she turns to Un'eth. "It is a possibility, but do not worry about it, as it seems a very slim one. You told me it was only certain scales which do not grow back. And if that is the case, we simply find a way to restore them, if it truly does become necessary. For now, focus on easing the process. And letting them soak will help with that."

The Sith in grey plods slowly along the trail, his armor jingling and clanking as one would expect of metal scales moving against each other. He pauses to pull up his hood, to keep the chill from running down his neck. "Such a chill would be a harsh surprise in Am'shere.", the copper-scale mutters to himself.

His progress continues, step-step-lean, the long spear in his right hand useful in navigating the snowy terrain.

Skielstergar blinks at Vaera. "... this one never said it was certain scales. /None/ of this one's scales grow back." He points to patches on his neck and his forearms, as well as some odd ones around his legs and upper arms. Places that would get a decent bit of abrasion from daily living. He scratches at a large scale on his shoulder, and the whole thing peels off. Skiel winces, and rubs at the spot. Said spot looks a little bumpy.

His head raises some, it tilting to the side as the half-dead makari spies a blob of grey. He clears his throat, and raises a hand in greeting. "Peace on your nest," Skiel says aloud, speaking in the native tongue.

"None? That is, a bit worrying, yes." Vaera sighs as she looks at Skielstregar. "But I am sure that something can be figured out. Perhaps some magic from Un'eth will assist, or from others. You need to keep yourself safe, and it is a worry to you."

She catches the traveler after a moment, and waves to them. "Good day kin, it is good to see you, Geir. We were just likely on our way to the river, what brings you out here?"

Geir raises a hand in reply, stepping closer before responding in kind. "Peace on your nest.", the copper-scale replies. "Enjoying the winter weather? Quite different from Am'shere, is it not?"

His gaze shifts to Vaera. "Peace on your nest.", he intones. "This one was merely walking."

Skielstregar gives a hefty sigh as he rubs the side of his face. Like a spoon to a fish, the talons pop a few more flaking scales off. The large makari winces once more, rubbing at the bumpy skin underneath. "Perhaps Vaera."

His attention shifts to Geir, the tarnished scale looking like he was molting, as a few flaky scales of his litter the snow, and a large one was in his grasp. "Yes, the weather is wonderful," he mentions a bit more cheerily, scratching at his chest on a spot that his armor doesn't cover. "This one loves the cold."

"It is, draining, but not unbearable. But this one keeps warm in most conditions." Vaera responds with a long sigh. "This one much prefers the warmth of softskin summers, but this season has good points. It is much easier to hunt, and water is never in short supply with a fire at hand."

"You can walk with us, if you wish, join us at the river. And, perhaps you may have insight for Skielstregar. This one does not know any other Makari who do not regrow their scales."

"This one cannot help but notice one is molting.", the copper-scale says with some mirth in his tone. "A bit of a difficult spot here, but at least there are currently no biting insects to pester one, yes?"

Geir nods to Vaera, "Indeed, water is in good quantity." He cants his head slightly. "Scales not regrowing? This is, at best, a rare condition to have."

Skielstregar shifts on his feet some, him clearly embarrassed. He starts to walk towards this river, giving a parting wave to the wolf that was with them. "... this one has not been able to grow scales for some years. But yes, no insects to bite and annoy."

He pauses briefly, a heavy sigh leaving him as he unlatches his breastplate and slips it off. He slings it over a shoulder, then scratches an itch that was building on his chest. "... this one feels like a farm animal, needing a scratching post," he whines.

"It is always a difficult time, but it always passes." Vaera nods to Geir. "But yes, it is a rare condition, and one that, may need to be addressed. But, you worry too much about being a softscale, Skielstregar. This one does not think less of you for your chest, and has many friends who have no scales at all. The river will help, most likely. This one will join you, if you wish. They are not a scratching post, but they can assist."

Geir chuckles, "Molting happens to us all. This one empathizes." The copper-scale frowns then. "This one is curious about scales not growing back, however. This one might inquire about it further." He does follow the two, a few steps behind.

Skielstregar would color a bit if he could, though he buries his face into a hand as they go along. "It is not about being a softskin, it is just they would look so strange..."

The mention of his chest makes him pause, and he sighs heavily. "... you need not join, it'd be freezing for you."

The mental image reminds him of a conversation, and that makes him walk a little faster.

"Uh, there is not much more about it, Shaman Geir. This one died before, and now isn't dead. Their body acts in strange ways due to it, this one thinks."

He hazards hooking a too long talon on the edge of his tunic, he tilts his head aside, and peers down.

The Warrior halts in his tracks.

"... what."

"It will be fine, I am warmer than most, and a dip in the river does wonders for the mind, as long as a fire is there for afterwards." Vaera chuckles. "You are welcome to join as well, Geir."

She does stop, and the redscale looks to Skielstregar. "Is everything alright?" She asks, seeming concerned again in her own way.

"Hmm. Still, this one believes that there should be more information. Surely you are not alone in dying and being brought back.", the copper-scale offers. "This one is the Deathdragon's servant, this one has access to knowledge. This one can inquire." Geir stops as Skiel does, "Hmm? What is it?"

"Uhhhhhhh........"

Skielstregar looks up to the two kin next to him. His dead eyes unmoving. Him still, like a corpse. "... this is... this one... this knows not what to make of this... or how, or... why?"

There's a jumble of emotions coming from him. Worry, excitement, suspicion, fear. He takes a hand, and carefully lifts up his tunic to show his lower torso.

Normally, there would be a lot of scales covering one here. But for Skielstregar, there are all but gone, carved away from many wounds on his chest from a long while ago. Yet, as the sun catches his skin, there's an unmistakable glimmer.

Sparkle.

Dazzle.

Of a metallic silver sheen just starting to emerge from the skin in various spots.

"... this... one..." Skiel mumbles dumbly, bewildered. Eyes wide.

Vaera looks at Skielstregar's stomach, placing a finger on it in a few places, before she chuffs, and looks up, smiling to the not-quite-as bronzescale.

"You do not need to convince people you were silver before, now." She states with a hint of a chuckle. "It seems something has changed. Perhaps that is why your body is ridding itself of the old damaged ones? Your scent has been much lower of late, as well."

The copper-scale hmms? again, and crouches, turning his head to peer at the silver-scale's chest. "This one believes one has little to worry about, at this point. One's molting is successful." Geir offers Skiel a friendly clap on the shoulder, which undoubtedly loosens more of the older scales. "Hopefully the itching will die down over the next few weeks."

The prospecting pokes on his stomach reveal that they are indeed fresh, shiny new silver scales that are coming in.

The tarnished-now-silverscale jostles a bit from the shoulder clap. Some flaking scales coming off with a light crackle and brittle to dust. That also breaks Skiel out of his stupor.

A broad, happy grin splits his face. Without warning, one of the large arms pulls the redscale into a tight hug lifts her up some, and spins her around once. "Ahaha! This is phenomenal! This is good! So good!"

He places the one legged redscale down and returns the clasp onto Geir's shoulder. "This one was worried they would look strange! But now they look forward to it!"

Vaera is, despite her height, easy to be spun around. Especially when they do not mind being hugged or spun, though there is a moment where they hold tightly at the sudden spin. Once she is set down, Vaera chuckles and stretches, looking up to Skielstregar. "Yes, it is good! You are, becoming more like yourself. This is wonderful to see and hear. Which means, that you need to get those old scales dealt with. Let us head to the river! I'll prepare a fire, and we can have fish roasted from it as well. Join us as well, shaman Geir, as this feels like it is worth celebrating, yes?"

The copper-scale ducked away from the swinging red-scale, before straightening. "Hmm. Just so.", Geir says, the corners of his lips curling upwards. "This one is pleased for you. The silvery colour is pleasing in the light."

To Vaera, the copper-scale shakes his head. "This one must be in Alexandria shortly. This one wishes you both a happy celebration. Peace on your nest." Chuckling, Geir moves back to the trail, shuffling along.

Skielstregar blinks as Geir compliments him, the makari smiling bashfully and rubbing his neck. "Ah, thank you, Shaman Geir. Peace on your nest, safe travels."

The man turns to Vaera, him rumbling happily. "... shall we go do that?" he asks, gesturing in the direction of the aforementioned creek. "This is certainly worth celebrating."

"Yes, they do look nice." Vaera agrees, chuckling a bit more. "This one is sorry you can not join, as it would likely leave Skielstregar a bit less embarassed. Have a good day, and a safe journey." She says to the copperscale, before he is on his way.

"Let us be off then, I can carry some of the wood, and I'll set up a fire once we are there."

Skielstregar grins, shoots a thumbs up, and nods sharply despite the growing bashfulness that the compliments continue to have onhim. "That sounds splendid. Let's get going!"

And with that, he marches onward with Vaera.

-End Scene-