An Elfragation, part 2
Log Info
- Title: An Elfragration, part two
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Ashes, Jinks, Kard, Vaera, Lyme, Mikilos
- Place: A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District
- Time: Saturday, February 26, 2022, 11:20 PM
- Summary: Evrani, ambassador from Llyranost is in Alexandria, seeking answers. He encounters Lyme, Ashes, Vaera and Kard, who have no idea who he is or what he wants, and Mikilos and Jinks, who do. Evrani berates Mikilos for his actions in Llyranost which resulted in the loss of the veil. Mikilos explains that the Veil has been dying since Animus did, and it chose as it did. Jinks suggests that the ambassador take advantage of the knowledge and skills present, and not simply berate the elf and criticize adventurers. People go their separate ways.
-=--=--=--=--=--<* A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District *>=--=--=--=--=--=-
The city is divided, unofficially, into Upper Alexandria and Lower Alexandria. The Upper resides further up on the slope of the mountain, and rests to the east of the great river. The Lower resides to the west of it, and if the Lower could be said to have a heart, this verdant park might be its center.
Amid all the bustle of the Lower City, its Gardens District provides a peaceful respite. The warmth of Althea holds sway here, and though Daeus receives the occasional nod, this is clearly Her domain. She shares it with Dana, in the verdant green of this area. Vines and trees, remain green no matter the season and numerous flowers bloom along the park's walkways. Faerie-light lanterns hang from branches and along hedgerows.
A number of shops may be found here, most notably the city hospital, for which the park was originally built. Though now open to the public, the gardens by and large, remain underneath the hospital's care. However, in the Althean tradition, much of the work is provided by volunteers.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Kard 6'4" 179 Lb Human Male Tall and painfully lean for a human, usually behelmeted. Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature. Mikilos 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Evrani Dawn Elf Female A diplomatic envoy from Llyranost. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Today, Alexandria's weather is proving an unpleasant impediment. The icy northwest wind is biting hard and causing people to seek shelter from time to time to just get *out* of it, even as they've business to conduct.
Of course, *some* people appear unmoved by the weather, like that elf over there who's being escorted by a pair of city guards. He's dressed in robes that somehow appear to both threaten to drag along on the ground for their length and yet never quite do it, always *just* seeming to never get so much as a speck of dirt on it.
It's elf magic. Or maybe he just moves with that elven grace. Or maybe it's just an enchanted robe, or an illusion. Either way, he looks like a muckity-muck and a very unhappy one at that. His fine features are contorted into something of a disdainful grimace as the hired hands stay nearby. Mercenaries, it'd seem, from the Guild. Hired to escort this fellow, no doubt, either by him or contracted through the city.
Mikilos has no guards, but is elsewise much the same, though one can be sure his painfully Grey robes are quite magical. He's also quite a bit more cheerful, enjoying the brisk weather as he strolls the Gardens. The fellow elf draws some mild attention from the wizard, but not as if they're rare in Alaxandria.
Kard is wearing his gear of course, but under it a warm set of woolens. He was out for a walk when he spotted the elf and followed along expressly out of curiosity.
Lyme comes out of the Defence, dressed in street clothing, a big canvas bag of gear over his shoulder. He moves carefully, like someone recently recovered from healing, and so slows down rather than stops dead at the sight of the lord-high-muckity-muck approaching.
Vaera was set out near the paths of the garden district, where she was carving something new into her dragonbelcher, while the metal parts laid in a state of semi-disassembly. And next to them was a surprisingly large swiftclaw that was noisily dozing under the tree. She stops and looks up at the strange procession, and snorts before returning to her work. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and when a rich or noble elf did not prepare their own entourage, they had no one to blame about their guard but themself.
That wind, which is so mightly, blows those few who will not lay low through the city. One such being is a hobgoblin in grey, whose thick hair is heavy enough to resist the gusts, though a well aimed parasol passing as a wind break assists. The hobgob, a female with a skull for a face and funeral vestments, walks sedately with heavy steps. Her sensible cavalry boots clonking along.
She has no guards, but she does have a floating disc following her like a hungry dog. It carries a bunch of small boxes, which are strapped down under netting. She is expressionless, her facial tattoo hiding all emotion, though she glances in the directions of the elves.
As Lyme steps out of the Soldier's Defense and into her path, she lays a hand on his shoulder. This is followed by an intense glare, and an tingling from the contact which is unpleasant, then relieving, when she lifts her hand away.
A gobber in mourner's robes follows along behind the taller 'nar. His light-brown skin is heavily freckled and his friar tuck haircut is complete with two long, draping and scrap-decorated braids hanging in front of his long ears. He hefts a last box onto the invisible disc trailing behind Ashes and double-times the last few steps to catch up.
The goblin's form goes plastic, stretching down into pink motes that slough off and fade quickly back into the Weave. Jinks is there, then, and the humble cleric's garb illusion forsaken for his formidable finery. While Ashes looks to Lyme, the minstrel steps back and lifts a glittering hand at the overtall Sildanyari wizard.
"Coyote laughs, tallman," the gnome greets Mikilos. "How's your houseguest keeping?"
Mikilos is immediately noticed by the elf. An eyebrow arches. He stares, then steps towards the elven mage. His guards audibly groan but manage to keep at least a semblance of decorum.
He stops in front of him and stares.
"I do not think I know you," he says after a moment. "You have been away from our homeland too long."
A thin smile forces its way onto his face.
Mikilos smiles, nodding to Jinks. "Hello Shortstack. Keeps with company. Have a few cousins dropped by, staying in the guest rooms. What are you up to today?" He inquires, glancing at the disc of boxes. As the other elf approaches, the wizard nods politely. "I'm not sure the two are directly connected. Plenty in SilverMoon I didn't know when living there. Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, archmagus and current resident of Alexandria. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir...?"
Kard is enough of a country rube to gawk at mystical elves. At least the helmet keeps his expression mostly unreadable.
Lyme turns, suddenly, and locks eyes briefly with the hobgoblin. "Thank you." He straightens up, and pauses. "I won't tell the people who just spent a month making sure my insides fit back together that you did that." A grin shows sharp teeth. Then he looks over towards the elves. "Oooh, lateral violence." It's more or less sotto vocce, but he's not /that/ subtle.
The hobgoblin Mourner is drawn into the conversation with Mikilos, and by extension the other elf, through her assistant's efforts. Unlike him, she does not transform into something else. She remains a drab grey, young, witch. She nods once more at Lyme, "They don't like when I visit," then turns to watch the encounter while keeping her parasol aimed into the wind.
She's aware of Mikilos, though can't recall hearing his full title in a while. The other high elf seems to be someone of importance as well. Both far from home and playing the 'don't recognize you' game.
Should be fun.
"WhooOoooOoooo?" An eerie warble comes from Ash's shoulder. A tiny screech owl, asking for introductions. This is great. She replies to Lyme, "Could be."
Vaera looked up from her work again, mostly because the large swiftclaw at her side was suddenly looking up and around at the noise from the owl. The red makari whistles and pats the swift claw on the flank. "No hunting in the grounds Wyrmere. That owl is likely with the person whos shoulder it is on." She states, with the green swiftclaw huffing and dragging a talon against the dirt, while keeping an eye on the arven-nar and the owl on their shoulder.
"My name doesn't fill the page like an author's forward," Jinks tells Mikilos with a laugh, emphasizing the first word as he speaks with the elf. He nods at the news of the elf's guest and gives a little wink "You'll spend twice as much of you life addressing me by that sobriquet."
The gnome tilts his head towards the mourner and then waves generally towards the empty boxes. "I'm into the Harpist for a big favor. A song now and again for a decade along with some community service-- when Her lot aren't entirely sick of my company."
Another laugh and his smile surrenders its lopsidedness, going wide instead. Solid-black eyed narrow subtly at the out-of-towner elf followed by a glance at the one he's known through four lives, now. A short exhale of amusement escapes his nostrils and he cants his head up at Kard, tilting it to indicate the fellow should come on over.
The owl and its friend, the Hobgoblin, get a steely eyed glance from the elf. He doesn't say anything but it's clear he's not terribly familiar with seeing Hobs out and about in the city, such as it is.
"He says hello," he adds to Mikilos, head tilting, as if hearing something from a far.
"And that you should know who I am referring to."
There's an edge to that smile. A very sharp edge.
The hobgoblin may be more intriguing than the elf honestly, which draws Kard's stare once she engages with the situation.
Mikilos chuckles mildly, glancing to Jinks, before refocusing his attention on the other elf. "Seems there is a list of things I fail to do. But I do suspect. In any case, how might I be of service? Whatever my actions or lack, my intentions remain for the greater good."
The owl is with the Mourner, and both are staring at the elves. Neither blinks, they're having a contest. The wind whips around them and Ashes tightens her grip on her parasol.
Briefly, she glances in Kard's direction long enough to take in the man, and then returns to watching elves.
A very long, and large house centipede crawls up out of her shirt. Segment after segment emerge and it zig-zags around to encircle her neck like a living choker. The head fixes in place beneath her chin, like a necklace centerpiece. The centipede is watching too, one might presume. It's hard to tell with the tiny bug eyes.
The hobgoblin doesn't smile, it's generally unpleasant when they do. Her clothes flap in the wind, like abandoned flags.
GAME: Jinks rolls Knowledge/Local: (16)+16: 32
One of the guards finds himself having backed away. Standing near Kard, he says to him, "You ever feel like you're in over your head?"
A wry tone in his voice. Human, red haired, and a little stressed out. That's him.
The elf, on the other hand, is still focused on Mikilos.
"You can return home. Put your skills to work for the Kingdom. Or you can undo what you've participated in. I hope you understand that you're facing severe consequences."
Kard grunts an acknowledgment and drops his voice an octave. "Way of life out on the frontier. Seems like there are times like that here too. Who is this person? And why they ordering people around like that?"
"You two have forgotten to hand out the playbill before the performance started," Jinks advises the llyranesi, glancing between them again. When Kard doesn't respond to the head-tilting, the minstrel lifts a hand to wave him over.
"Kard, this is the Harpist's mourner Ashlee and her entourage," begins the gnome, waving up at the grimly-tattooed witch and her assorted animal accompaniment. "Mikilos, archmage and operator of a rather handy enchanted items shop." Now he nods at the tall elven man he's obviously quite familiar with. "Vaera is one of the city's sith-makar and crafter of fine furnishings," he adds, gesturing with both hands to the redscale.
"I don't believe I've met this particular oruch before," Jinks admits with an apologetic smile at Lyme. "Maybe... the Resurrectionist's new year's celebration?
"And you..." the gnome tilts his head to look out of the corner of his eye at the visiting diplomat. "The light of Draco Solis warm your back, Evrani the estimable. You've traveled quite a ways from both Llyranost and the Kingdoms."
You can return home. Put your skills to work for the Kingdom. Advice and an order Ashes has considered before. Go back to Blar, leave Alexandria, its corrupt and compromised nobles behind, shift from a society with a thin veneer over its flaws to one where the metal gauntlet lacks any disguising velvet gloves. Hobgoblins love orders and falling in line.
Ashes, not so much, but the instinctive pull is there. Her eyes have glazed over as her mind wanders, and Jinks' introduction pulls her back to the living and present. Her head turns, in flat monotone she addresses Kard, "Hello."
Vaera gets a wave as well, she was introduced, then it's back to staring at the lyranost elf. "Right. The Veil."
Vaera looks up as she is introduced, and offers a wave to those present, followed by a glare to the swiftclaw that was still regarding Ashes' owl as some manner of snack. "Vaera, peace on your nest." She adds, before she is taking the weapon she had set out and reassembling it.
Lyme's eyes glaze over.
"No nest." Kard grunts. "But peace to you too." He sees everything here well in hand and shakes his head. "I'll be on my way."
Mikilos smiles wistfully. "I *am* home. A choice made years ago. What was done has moved well beyond me. I understand my own actions were not ideal, but I can't say as I regret them. And consequences? The world is threatening to end, yet again. Any consequences beyond that are of minor consideration." He frowns mildly. "I'm not sure of timing, were you in the city in time to have your dreams disrupted?"
"..it's a whole ass thing, isn't it?" says the guardsman to Kard, glancing towards him as he starts to take his leave. "...and, welp, it looks like it's about to get interesting."
He lets out a breath and glances towards the elven confrontation.
"That's right," he says, "the Veil. Thank you." He adds to Jinks. Though there may be fury here, carefully burning behind a controlled expression, he definitely isn't about to fully let it out.
"Please. This place isn't 'home'. You may live here, but it will never be home. You can't be at home amongst these people. You'll outlive them, one and all, and grow more distant with time. It's simply as it is, especially as a wizard. You can't tell me you don't already sense it coming. And, asides, you have work to do. A sin to atone for. The world will not end. We will see to it *again*, despite the meddling in our affairs."
"The veil is broken right?" Vaera snorts, finishing with her weapon and standing up again, with the swiftclaw following suit. "You can go see the Arvek-nar, as long as you aren't going to eat any of her companions." She states to the swiftclaw, who plods up to Ashes expectantly, which was somewhat terrifying, given it was the size of a small horse almost. "Anyways, right. Seems like a bad time to be burning bridges, and retreating insular if you ask me."
Ashlee adjusts her grip on her satchel strap and parasol. She wriggles a bit, as one of her hidden menagerie gets in a bad position. She sleeps like the dead. No dreams, no disruptions, in a casket when there's a spare. It is news to her that the world is threatening to end, but it's also a day ending in 'y'.
Still the foreign elf has a point. What is home, where is home. It's not her childhood, terrible and boring as it was. It's not Blar, nor the villages surrounding it. It's not Alexandria, nor even the temples of Death, although that is where she's found the most comfort. The Grey Halls then, perhaps that is home. She takes a small, silvered branch with five leaves out of her satchel and stares at it. One leaf is darker than the others. She keeps it sheltered from the wind, her token to find her way back. It's safely stored. Her head raises to stare at Mikilos and his frenemy.
Except, she's looking a swiftclaw in the mouth. Now she blinks, and puts a hand to her throat to push Chippen down into her breastplate. Her eyes flick to Vaera, back to the swiftclaw. That's a lot of teeth...
She was contemplating a snake, this jumps things to a whole new level. It's also not going to fit under her clothes. She glances back a Vaera once more, asking in monotone, "For me?"
Lyme comes back from stowing his canvas bag -- it was getting heavy, and some of his insides are still shiny, pink and new -- and runs smack dab into the end of the world. And a swiftclaw. He pauses. "Huh."
"Alexandria-the-city is culpable in this mess, how?" Jinks wonders, stepping around the conversation so he's the third point of the triangle with two elves. Makari hounds and Ashes' forthcoming petnapping attempt are not his concern but he does live here.
"... whether or not Mikilos holds a special place in his heart for the Alexandros region and its peoples, his holdings are here as well as a thriving business. He's obviously fond of the place even if it only amounts to a century-long vacation." The gnome attempts to get past the discussion of what a home truly is or where it can properly be.
"So, with that debate set aside for a later date in a warm room with good spirits: you're here because...?"
Mikilos nods in agreement with Jinks. "Think of it as life amoung vibrant butterflies over drab stone. One may last longer, but that doesn't make life enjoyable. As for sin, that's up to the gods. But again, I ask, how may I be of service? The world hasn't ended yet, but it only takes the once." The wizard ponders. "On the other hand, can be said the world has ended many times, replaced with a new one, but that waxes into philosophical I doubt either of us care to currently discuss."
He looks to Verna. "Missing, not broken, so last I knew. Stolen, some might say. Others would insist on 'escaped'. Sadly, I have no way to verify one way or another. The Veil could be right here in the Garden, but if it doesn't want to be found, I doubt anything I could do would find it." He glances to the Swiftclaw. "What's their name?"
Mikilos clarifies to Jinks. "As for Alexandros involvement, if one counts the Veil as stolen, they likely count Seldan as the thief."
The world ends only once. The world has ended many times and been replaced. Ashlee's ears perk up, and her eyes shift from swifclaw jaws to elfin minds.
And then he doesn't care to -currently- discuss it. Her posture breaks and she slumps a little, less resistance to the wind. "Oh."
"I've worked with Ser Pedrwyn." She states firmly, monotone and without hurry, "he's a paladin not a thief."
"'Drab stone'," repeats the elven ambassador, a dismayed expression crossing his face at Mikilos' description of life amongst the elves. "You truly have lost your way. I feel only pity for you. But be assured, a reckoning will come for you, too, and the choices you have made and the costs you have caused others to incur. Yes, the Veil is not functioning. It must be repaired. Many Alexandrians have risked a great deal to help, if only for the gold, I suspect."
He lets out a sigh.
Then he smiles at Mikilos.
"Ah. Is that right. Thank you."
Lyme scratches at his chin absently, trying to work some things out. The 'who' dies on his lips, and he frowns instead, shaking his head. An aside to Ashes. "I'm guessing those details are somewhat extraneous at this point for the august gentleman over there."
"Or they went because there was a city that lost the protection of their magical wards, where citizens were having their eyes gouged out by enraged fey." Vaera snorts. "You are welcome, by the way."
Her attention is turned to Ashes after, and she shakes her head. "No, Wyrmere was just curious about you, and they are no harm to people that do not need harm. I am trying to get them more used to people."
The swiftclaw in question nudges the arvek with their snout, before taking a step back.
Ashlee nods, to Lyme, then Vaera. She places her hadn on Wyrmere's snout and strokes it slowly, drawing down from between his eyes down to the heat pits. Stroke, stroke. She stares at the Llyranost elf. "I'm here for the bodies."
Gold doesn't really interest her. She continues addressing him, a little of her military training dropping in. It must be the cavalry boots, "Your mission objectives aren't clear. Do you want help, his help, or others, or for him to return for punishment?"
"The Guild will want some details before they throw adventurers at a problem." Usually, kinda, sorta.
"The Silver Guard isn't in the city," Jinks informs Evrani with a little shrug. "I've sought him out at Goddess Dreaming's temple more than once of late and he's nowhere to be found. There was some event where he seemed to step out of time-- ceasing to be-- and then returned to our memories but as I understand it no one has seen him."
The gnome turns to look at Ashes, then glances at Mikilos. When the foreign diplomat accepts the wizard's offhand comment as new information, he can't help but laugh a bit.
"But you're not here for Seldan. More contract for the mercenary's guild? That seems beneath one of your station." The gnome sucks at his teeth thoughtfully. "... pressuring the city for some other sort of aid?"
Mikilos blinks at Evrani. "You didn't know? He was the one with whom the Veil spoke... or he says it did, and I've not known Seldan to lie. I, at that point, was just along for the ride. Briefly put, The Veil is dying. Has been since the death of Lord Animus. It wanted to be useful in saving the world, so went with Seldan. Or took him with it, I'm mildly fuzzy on details. Close proximity to the full power of the Veil was... disorienting. They went off, and I returned here. Where the Veil is now I can only guess."
"I didn't know his *name*, no. No one did." There's a coolness to his eyes at Mikilos.
"I suppose somethings get hidden. Yes, it's true, some of you might be altruistic, even. I have my doubts. Your guild is famously money-grubbing and greedy, and so are many of the adventurers which serve it, out for their own coin purses. A higher purpose might be some of you, but it's not *most* of you. I mean little offense when I say that."
...but he does mean a *little*. The diplomat is angry -- but then -- it seems Alexandrians may well be behind some of their current problems if Mikilos is to be believed.
"I am genuinely curious who is telling you this information." Vaera states, with one brow raised. "As far as I am aware, the guild has been getting an unnecessarily bad reputation from many outside sources. If you want money grubbing greed, nobility district is to the east of here."
Wyrmere on the other hand, is enjoying the attention. Ashes' hand gets pushed higher and higher as the swiftclaw noses it, almost raising it above head height. The swiftclaw's tail was a danger to any behind it with how it was waving back and forth.
Lyme gives a grunt. "Right. Because people should want to do all the things nobody else wants to for a pittance." He turns, and stalks off.
"I'm not." The Mourner says, answering the accusations of greed and altruism. She hasn't done guild work in... a while. Long enough it's hard to remember. Her hand continues to slide on Wyrmere's snout, and now she must reach higher.
She's interested in the dead, guiding them to judgement and their reward. The pesky details of life, getting to that death, don't interest her. Still, she must affirm, "Seldan acts altruistically."
Her head turns as Lyme departs. "WhoooOoooOoooo?", her screech owl warbles.
"That's Lyme," she gives the bird a reply, "one of the self-interested mercenaries of Alexandria."
"Gods, do people think we're greedy?" Laughs the gold-plated gnome, enjoying a moment of self-deprecating amusement. He lifts a pinky carefully and wipes the hint of a tear from the corner of his onyx-black eye. A blink and a shake of the head later, he's looking back up at the fancy visitor.
"'True Llyranost' has hidden away from the world and only comes out now to retrieve its lost ward and you're worried about the motivations of sell swords." Marvels Jinks, though he manages to remain even-tongued and a step away from accusation. "One of the world's most accomplished wizards has told you the Veil was damaged and sought reprieve with one of Goddess' Dreaming's greatest champions. The same Goddess Dreaming that warred with Mulria after the death of Animus."
The minstrel smothers his grin, hiding the gesture behind a smoothing of his goatee. "Perhaps it would be more productive to share ideas on how we can best most forward together while spending less time reminding Miki here about how to be a better elf?"
Mikilos nods again. "For a few moments, I didn't recall his name either. Proximity was overwhelming, but did have some benefit. I knew the rest of the world had forgotten his name for a time, but assumed all remembered after a few days. Though I have to wonder, if there remained questions, was I forgotten as well? It's not as if I keep a low profile. Just have to look for the giant glowing sword sticking out of the mountain." The weather makes it a little harder to see at the moment, but still, subtle it is not.
He frowns mildly. "And I hadn't realized the plot to smear the Guild was quite so successful. A plot by a mix of vexed nobility and a demon lord... one killed by Ser Seldan, as it happens."
GAME: Jinks rolls Diplomacy: (16)+22: 38
Jinks' words seem to calm the elven diplomat down, if slightly. He's still angry, but he does eye Jinks a moment, glances towards Mikilos, then snorts once.
"I think some of you need to understand that the Guild is not you and you a re not the Guild. You may work for it, but it is bigger than you. If you think it all but a smear, perhaps you ought to dig deeper on your own, hm?"
A pause, a nod towards Jinks, and then he turns to leave.
Jinks shrugs, "But I am greedy. I'm also worth every penny." The gnome hooks a thumb into his fancy belt and raises a ring-heavy finger as the elf makes to leave. "Welcome to the city, tallman. I know all the good brothels if you get bored..."
Mikilos eyes Jinks sidelong. "You know all the bad brothels as well. The question is, can you tell which are which?"
"The ones that don't shave Lucht to pass them off as People," Jinks asides to Miki.
"I don't work for the Guild." Ashlee states, "If you want my help, ask at the Temple of Vardama."
He's leaving, she's leaving. The Mourner is tired of being smeared for things she hasn't participated in. Although there was that one thing... it ended badly and others had to handle it. It sounds like the Silverguard has it all in hand, or at least that it will land on his head, and he'll handle it again.
Jinks' shaving comment gets a long glance. She adds one more thought to the departing diplomat, "I'm not a swamp witch."
She is really, really, over swamps and sewer assignments for 'the greater good'.
"Says the one who is forcing being of Llyranost on someone. You need to understand that Mikilos here may be of Llyranost, but he is not the place." Vaera chuffs. "You did not answer the question, and as far as I am aware, it is not causing trouble for people. But if I need find that my employers are working in questionable acts, then so be it, wouldn't be the first time I have dug out corruption. And you would not _believe_ some of the stories that have come out of Charn."
Vaera turns, and her attention is instead on the swiftclaw that was enjoying so much attention. She walks up, and offers the beast a pat on the flank. "They aren't a threat if you don't make yourself one." She states. "Seems they do like you, as well."
Ashlee gives Wyrmere a pat on the flank and bobs her head regarding Vaera's instructions. She turns and leans her parasol to catch the wind and pull her along. Dutifully, her floating disc starts up after her, and it's not long before her assistant, the gnome disguised as one of her people, will have to hustle if he wants to catch a ride.
"If I don't forget you, I want some magic." Ashes tells Mikilos, nodding towards the giant sword on the mountain. It's near where her temple is, so not as big a trip as it is for most.
There's a nagging feeling she's forgotten something, but several pats around her body to confirm her passengers eliminate forgetting one of them. Mentally she checks her list, all the relevant things have been said, no one has died.
Maybe it will come to her.
OOC Houseguests
You paged (Mikilos, Jinks) with 'You can assume N'tssa has been as much trouble as ever but you have been on top of her'
From afar, to (Ashes, Mikilos): Jinks snorts like a child.
To (Ashes, Mikilos), Jinks pages: She's probably too heavy for you to be beneath.
To (Ashes, Jinks), Mikilos pages: ....she shapechanges....
You paged (Mikilos, Jinks) with 'she DOES :)'
To (Ashes, Mikilos), Jinks pages: Is there a compact model?
From afar, to (Ashes, Jinks): Mikilos turned her into a catgirl... well, a female cat. Frog just seemed wrong. She hissed at me and hid under the bookcase.
Underwater
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "He went underwater."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "It's glorious down there."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Sub-lyme."
<OOC> Jinks says, "He wants to know if you're a bad fish, too."
Dramatis Personae
Ashes
She has a skull for a face.
On second glance it is a tattoo, white on her warm grey skin. Her nose is a coal black patch while her hair is a lighter, cooler grey. The hair has wavy, thick strands that clump together. Piercings and other decorations enhance her markings, creating a sugar skull, a festive death. Ashlee Ciaradh is not festive. She is a quiet, somber Arvec Nar. A little creepy. It's the way the hollows around her eyes are emphasized, her stare. The heavy jaw with all the teeth tattoos.
There's a chill around her, one unlike that caused by cold weather. A quietness of the tomb. Her clothes are dark, a short half-jacket over a shirt with dark slacks. She has a very battered bag slung over her shoulder, one that seems older than she is.
Jinks
If you stripped the glittering gnome before you and sold his fine clothes, jewels, and baubles, it's likely you could feed all the poor in Alexandria for a year. But then you'd also have a very naked, body-confident gnome just standing there. Naked.
Jinks carries himself with a casual confidence, wrapped in bright, tailored clothing that flatters his slight frame. The gnome is an average height for his people (standing closer to three-feet tall than four) but often manages an air of being above it all. He slinks through crowds with a dancer's grace, gnimbly managing his way through even the tightest press.
His eyes are large, solid black orbs twinkling with mischief and his thin lips are almost perpetually set into a lopsided smirk framed by an immaculately-trimmed goatee. The hair on his head is shock-white, shoulder-length, and usually worn pulled back into a tight and short ponytail.
Kard
Kard is a lean young man, that much is clear from the taut freckled skin of his forearms and the unweathered fingers protruding from fingerless gloves. He hides his appearance however, presenting the world with a shadowed face under a heavy cowl or the blank steel of a full helm.
Kard is tall as well, for a human, but that is offset by a hunched posture used to carrying a heavy weight and the failure to find musculature to match his height. His frame seems likely to blow away in a strong wind.
He is wearing a tall pair of riding boots, breeches and a home-spun tunic with mid-length sleeves. His clothes are worn with age but carefully maintained. They look comfortable enough that one might assume he is frugal rather than destitute.
A pair of pauldrons, yoked across his shoulders keep him anchored in place. A bulky carapace, like that of an insect covers his back. Two ogre-sized gauntlets depend from either end of the yoke, like buckets of water from a carry-pole, on thick leather straps. They attach to the carapace as well with a reinforced flexible hose of indeterminate material. Across the chest, metal ribs have closed to protect the wearer like a slatted breastplate angled to deflect blows up rather than down.
Vaera
Vaera is quite tall even for a sith-makar, and their scales are a dark red, with bright yellow eyes. There are frills on the side of their faces, and several spines facing backwards to the back of their head.
In most situations, they wear a a long, heavy coat of a dark gray with a navy undershirt that obscures most of their legs, and conceals numerous pockets filled with herbs, and ammunition. A pair of trousers accompany the outfit, though the right leg is cut off for obvious reasons when not obscured by the coat. Their entire right leg from the knee down is missing, and in its place is fitted a hardwood prosthetic. Hinged in several places, it is carved expertly to mimic the shape of a natural leg and foot down to the claw, though the base of the clawed foot is flat to facilitate ease of movement. Even the scales were carved into place, with several patterns inscribed as well, clearly something to which a large amount of work had been put into.