Bedpans and Boomsticks
Log Info
- Title: Bedpans and Boomsticks
- Emitter: Cryosanthia, Aryia
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Aryia, Seyardu, Verna, Braelnoir
- Place: A02: Lower Trades District, A06: The Soldier's Defense
- Time: Tuesday, November 02, 2021, 11:49 AM
- Summary: Cryosanthia is in the Lower Trades district, commissioning a scrying mirror-bowl, chosing a pair of smiths at random, Rhunon and Bhazti. She wants something in silver, with her name, her arcane mark, snowflakes and a white dragon around the border and sides. Not vain at all. Lily makes brass rings with the khazadi smith while Cryo finalizes details with the wild-elf smith, and then she departs to the Soldier's Defense. She's looking for Verna, an acquaintance who assisted with some scrying a year prior, which was very memorable in how badly it ended. She discovers Aryia, who was injured by an undead spider; and Seyardu, also injured by undead, and looking like she crawled out of the grave. This is actually, very accurate, as a ghost buried her. Cryo catches up on these details and Verna arrives. The mourner agrees to show the whitescale how it's done. Doing it, is a very long casting time, during which Aryia wanders off, Cryo nearly falls asleep on her feet, and Seyardu reads some salacious stories. Finally the spell takes effect and they locate Aryia, who is light-painting flowers in the garden. Cryo contacts her with a Message cantrip, causing her to teleport in, and the scrying bowl to feed-back horrible as it repeats their conversations and picks up its repitition. A new scry target is chosen, Braelnoir, and she is found outside Alexandria, experimenting with a scroll and in some sort of trouble. Cryo teleports to aid her, which gets the whitescale outside, and then she flies the rest of the way and brings her scale-sister back. Braelnoir is laid out on the bed, and the scry spell once again goes into screech mode, with Lily cancelling it by flipping the bedpan onto the floor. Another round of explanations of just whta is going on occur, and the group decides it was a successful effort, but that they will look into Seyardu's kin at a later date.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A02: Lower Trades District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Lower Trades District is the home of the working man of Alexandria. The Lower Trades is divided, unofficially, into two parts: that controlled by the gobbers, and that controlled by the khazad. The two areas stand in contrast, one with a strong, almost formal architecture and a predilection for blacksmiths, the other a mixture of propped-up rubble and gunpowder. The latter's started to grow however, and take form with the aid of the more structured Arvek Nar. Still, the two stand as uneasy neighbors, though the oruch more easily work both sides, often in the spirit of a friendly, if competitive, warriors' competition that's unique to Alexandria, itself.
Here, the "khazad section" boasts a number of blacksmiths, glass smiths, artifice shops, and basic taverns, as well as any number of trades shops and eateries. The sweet tinge of oil, iron, and spiced BBQ is everywhere. Shrines to Reos, or marks of the same, are found over most doorways, in homage to the khazad Mountain Father and World Smith.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= In the Lower Trades -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At the Soldier's Defense -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Verna 4'5" 98 Lb Half-Elf Female Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Little Fang, 'Lily' Kobold Female A pinkscale youngling in travelling gear. Rhunon Wild-Elf Male A sun-kissed, auburn haired, delicate smith. Bhazti Khazadi Male A forge-seared, black beared, solidly built smith. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Lower Trades
Outside of Goblintown, Khazadi district.
A white-scaled sith'makar stands tall with her toes turned in, looking around, her tail swaying slowly back and forth behind her. She's wearing her swashbuckling gear, mithril and leathers, a cape and a corset. The corset let out quite a bit on her rounded midsection. Her youngling, a pink-scale, sits on a small pack on her shoulders, legs hugging around her Ssassa's neck.
"Thasss...Tha-THSsss oness." Lily points.
"Hmmm... It's hard to tell which would be best..." Cryosanthia says. She's choosing a smithy. Which silversmith is best.
There's a small shop that Little Fang points out. Perhaps it's the slightly different design that makes it stand out. A strange blend of Khazadi architecture with some Sylvanori designs splashed in.
Or maybe it's the fact that a stall is all but attached to the forge, various jewelry on display as a tan skinned Sildanyari man with long auburn hair cringing at every beat of a loud hammer that clangs a rhythm not more than a stones under toss away. A Khazadi man with a black beard smashing away at a war hammer across an anvil, the former yellow hot.
The whitescale looks at the pair, both fall colours, with evidence of some skill on display, and nods. "Oh he would be able to do my name properly." Cryosanthia always writes hers in Sylvanori script, it's very flattering to the curves of the letters. She tugs the bottom hem of her corset, wriggles her shoulders and heads over to the stall.
"Peace on your Nests, and Heat to your Hammers. Are you available for commissions? This one is seeking a scrying bowl, of this dimension," She spreads her hands roughly an arm's length, "mirror finish on the interior, obviously, for scrying, and my name and snowflakes on the exterior, and... perhaps a dragon. A white dragon."
The elven man, clearly of Sylvanori descent, sighs in relief as someone approaches. He smiles. "Peace on your nest," he greets warmly. "Yes, of course we are open for commi-"
"Ohoho I can make ye a mirror ya can smash stuff wit' *and* check yerself out afta! Won't even stain it!" the dwarven smith grins broadly, pausing his work to flip the hammer over.
The elven man pinches the bridge of his nose. "... please. For the love of the Tree. Let me have this one," he grumbles before turning to Crysoanthia, him resting on the stall and splaying his fingers out. A breath to recenter. "I could certainly do something of the sort. Do you want that dragon with ivory as the inlay for the white or painted with a slightly corroded silver?"
There is a sign hanging above him from within the stall. It reads: 'Don't ask: I lost a bet.'
Little Fang is looking around, a wide grin, and she bats at some of the hanging jewelry. This gets a momentary glance from her Ssassa, her youngling has been known to have sticky fingers. Her hands are empty! She waves them at the khazadi, then looks to the elf, "Betsss... you lossse betsss."
Cryo puts a hand on Lily, rubbing her back, "Oh! Oh, an Ivory inlay would be lovely. That would enhance and contrast the silver nicely, this one believes. Oh, and this one is Cryosanthia."
She holds out her hand to shake his, extending it also to the dwarf. "This one does appreciate combat options, but does not plan to use it during combat."
She gazes at the man for a moment, attempting to imagine just such a scenario. It would be... involved.
The sun-kissed elven man practically deflates as the little one points it out. "Please do-"
"OOH YES HE DID!" the smith bellows with joy over the sounds of the forge. "Owes me a hundred sales, they do!"
The silversmith thuds their head against the wooden support beam on their stall. "Eighty seven..."
"Thirteen more ta go!" the smith beams.
The elf retreats from his self inflicted head smacking to take the scaled hand, him shaking it gently. "A pleasure, Cryosanthia. I am Rhunon. And that there is-"
The smith pulls off a heavy glove and thuds on over, taking the offered hand and shaking it with a strong grip. "Bhazti! At yer service! Shame ya don' wan' somethin' li' that, sure it'd suit yer stature well!" he grins before stepping back a few to move the hot metal into a quenching barrel.
Seeing that his... business partner was occupied, Rhunon continues, pulling out a small piece of paper to fill out the request. "That can certainly be done, ma'am," he nods.
Cryosanthia is careful, gently shaking the elves' hand, ending it with a slight squeeze. Feeling casual she leans all her weight onto one hip, slanting it out. "A pleasure also Rhunon."
With a smile, a discrete one with her nose dipped to shield her many teeth from view, she turns to face Bhazti. A short pirouette, with her tail sweeping to counter the rotation, followed by a slight bow. "A pleasure also."
Lily holds onto Cryo's horns, riding the movement, then crawls over the haversack and down her Ssassa's back, launching from tailbase to ground.
"Not too close Lily, you're not fireproof." The whitescale warns. Actually... her left hand traces gracefully through the air, and her scales twinkle and light up, a pattern of light swirling from her chest out along her arm until a glittering burst surrounds the little kobold. "Now you are, but still, don't get too close."
Facing Rhunon once more, she tilts her head, "Do you wish to see how I write my name?"
Bhazti turns, finding a little kobold in the sanctity of his forge. There's a squint. Was this such a good idea to let a small one into the dangers of a hot for-
"'ere, if ya gonna be in here gonna make ya useful. Hold dis." The dwarf hand Lily a set of tongs and points towards a small stack of very small discs of brass. "Get a couple o' dem and put 'em in the crucible. Ain't fired it yet, gotta do it cold."
Rhunon nods, watching Lily slide off and the movements of the arcane show. He perks up. "Certainly, miss. If you wouldn't mind," he chirps, glad to have an order underway as he turns the pad of paper around and sets the quill down for her to write.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls profession/scribe: (8)+20: 28 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls craft/calligraphy: (18)+20: 38
Lily takes the tongs. They are immense compared to her, she has to hug the tool to operate it properly. Carefully, the little pinkscale picks up one of the small disks and transfers it. 'clink'. She picks up another, moving with her whole body from the stack to the crucible and drops another in. "Likess. thaaaTHSss?"
Cryo watches her youngling, and even when she looks away Lily is still in the corner of her eye. She takes the quill and writes out her name. Each letter expertly and carefully looped, her penmanship is impeccable, even while standing and free-writing on the pad. She examines it, "Not my best work, but the Mistress isn't here."
She follows with another quick cast, one that leaves her arcane mark. A dragon's eye, formed out of the curving letters of her name. "That seems appropriate for a scrying bowl also." Her clothes shift, taking on a snow flake pattern, "This is the type of snowflake I like. You are familiar with what a white dragon looks like?"
The smith grins, letting the little one take their time. "Ayup. Like that." He bends down to scoop up the crucible with ease, him setting it into the hot smelter and closing it off with a twist of a latch. "Good. Now we gotta work on somethin' else while tha's meltin'. Gotta make lil' things now. Up ya go." Bhazti scoops up the kobold and plops her on the anvil, then drops a handful of brass wires next to the hatchling. He picks one up, bends it into a rough circle, then drops it in a box next to him. "For th' maille on a helmet later. Ain' gonna protect, is for show."
The elven man blinks as he takes the pad of paper back, his brow raising. "... with all due respect ma'am, the Elders don't even write this neat," he mumbles. Even murmuring something about 'should be in a gallery' under his breath in his native tongue. He shakes his head, affixing her with a somewhat strange expression. "... yes, I do. I'm not 'that' young," he mentions, glancing over the pattern and scribbling it down as well. Some more writing, drawing, then he turns the page around to show. "Something like this?"
Drawn on the page is an oval, oblong mirror that could fit in the crook of a forearm. Half of the frame was a rough outline of a white dragon chasing after its own tail, the other half snowflakes wafting from it in its wake. True to elvish design, tilting the head one way would show snowflakes, the other was Cryo's name spelled out. And in the center, under what would be the glass, is the arcane mark shown before, faded and a ghost, barely there, but watching.
Lily sits on the anvil, legs swinging, tail sticking out behind her, very secure and unlikely to fall. She takes up one of the wires and struggles to bend it. Kobolds aren't that strong. She finally manages by using her whole hand to wrap the wire around a finger. "Thiss rrightss?" She holds it up for inspection.
"Thank you," Cryo smiles at Rhunon again, "this one had much practice."
Her sapphire eyes glitter and light up as she examines the proposed design, "that is beautiful! Oh yes, even better than this one imagined. Yes."
The dwarf nods with a little smirk. "Aye, tha's right. The forge'll even 'em out. B'sure ta switch hands, else ya gunna hurt yerself. Get don wit' ten of 'em and you'll get a sandwhich and a few coins."
Rhunon looks over, scowling. "... you didn't pack a sandwhich today."
The Bhazti whistles as he works, pretending not to hear.
The tired elf groans, turning back to catch the praise. That eases some of his woes away. "Excellent. I'll get started on it. Seeing as how you speak of such things, I am going to assume you know this is not a cheap endeavor."
"Of course." Cryosanthia says, gesturing at herself, a sweeping motion using both hands. She has very expensive clothing, and while her mithril armour is hidden by much of it, a smith would easily recognize the metal. Compared to most lizard folk, she is extravagantly over-dressed, as close to gaudy as vanity will go without over-doing it. "This one is familiar with masterworks. The expense will be worth it."
Lily hisses happily, her small tail wagging, "Okaaayss!" She very diligently, and slowly, bends the brass wires into loops. She alternates hands. It's her palms that start to hurt before her fingers do, although both ache. She counts as she finishes each one.
The wood elf gives a nod, eyeing the expensive armor and clothes. "Very well. I will get to work on this right away." He turns, pulling out a small dagger and scratching in a notch in the wood post next to him. There's a lot of tally marks on there. Not a hundred just yet.
The smith is quick to work, him finishing as the little kobold does. He picks her up and sets her back on the ground. Sore pink hands are replaced with a small bag, as well a couple of silver pieces. "Fer yer work," he winks."
"ThansssKSsssss." Lily hisses happily, her eyes going wide as she stares at the coins, then even wider as she looks in the bag. "Oooo!"
Rhunon has a delightful lunch. Had.
Cryosanthia holds out her arm, letting her youngling climb to her riding position, hearing her treasure clink into the haversack. She counts out several gold pieces, a lot of gold, handing them to the wild elf, "the deposit, this one will send more upon completion. I will be at Mictlan, the following can also get in touch with me." She writes out a small list of names.
Her head turns, she glances at the notch marks, "to your eventual century. I will send others to you should I hear of a need. Peace on your Nests, both of you. This one must meet some friends."
The whitescale bows again, and desparts.
Rhunon takes the coin, him scribbling down the names. "I will send a missive to Wilderness Pointe if I cannot reach you. It should take a few days." His green eyes soften, and he mouths 'please do, I want out of here'.
"Peace on your nest," the elf politely voices, giving a small bow.
The smith grins, hands on his hips. "Thank ya for yer patronage!"
As they leave, Rhunon turns to his business partner. "Can this one count as two....?"
"Nope!"
"Tree take me.."
Soldier's Defense
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A06: The Soldier's Defense *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
This hospital is composed of rock from the surrounding Redridge, which lends it a comfortable feeling of solidity. Inside, frescos line the walls. They depict warm, cheerful scenes intended to encourage healing among the sick and ailing. A small fountain towards the back of the foyer is fed by the nearby river, and a number of benches surround it, providing a place for conversation.
The entrance to the hospital is guarded often by Sunblades, its interiors tended to by the Hearthguards. Older Hearthguards tend to patients and oversee its operation, while for the younger it is an opportunity to practice their skills and hone their trade. The servants garb themselves in Althea's colors, with a stole representing the City of Alexandria on the outside, to recognize their service to both.
The building itself is quite large, though built in a way to make it appear to be a collection of smallar buildings rather than one large one. The Soldier's Defense is known for its ability to feel "like home." While it is still a hospital, it arguably accomplishes this feeling of peace and serenity better than many counterparts, with the benefits passed on to its patients. Across one of the walls are a series of paintings depicting the hospital's many benefactors over the years. The first in line is the painted face of an unknown soldier, who the hospital was first dedicated to.
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It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood. For amphibians, perhaps, given the deluge of chill rain.
A beautiful day to be a neighbor. To those who are in varying stages of injury, illness and recuperation from the same... or those in the closed Vardamen tents who will not be recuperating.
Verna emerges from one such enclosure and approaches the gathering of the living patients, possibly to follow-up with one or more of her prior patients (yes, she does tend to those still breathing on occasion).
Won't you be my neighbor?
It's a short walk from the Khazadi district over to the Soldier's Defense. The whitescale is not bothered by it, nor the rain, at least not as much as the crumbs of her youngling's lunch which are making their way down her back. Lily is hunched over to eat her sandwich, appreciating the fruits of her labour and being paid for services. She's attempting to keep the rain off. Soggy bread sucks.
Cryosanthia looks around, asks after Verna and is given directions. A thought strikes her, and she asks after Seyardu as well and is surprised to find the silverscale was injured.
She ventures inside. This is a building with bad memories for her. It's where she discovered she was being constantly scryed by her mistress.
After her mistress froze everyone inside the Soldier's Defense to death, to demonstrate that she was. The target chosen specifically because Seldan revealed his mother was being treated here, in the whitescale's presence. She was never considered trustworthy after.
The Soldier's Defense makes for an ironic location for her request.
One of the prior patients is that of a mul'neissa woman, a black facemask draped over her eyes to keep the light out as she rests on a cot. She's dozing off, an arm dangling off the bed as her side is bandaged expertly. Aryia looked like she had a tussle with something big.
Seyardu was hard to pin down, at least looking for them normally. Her scent was still there, and perhaps on purpose her own cot was near to Aryia's. But it was hard to confirm it was Seyardu, as she looked completely different from normal. Her scales were a tarnished brown, peeling and falling off in other places, and she was splayed out on her stomach. It seemed she had had visitors already, who had dropped off a vase of flowers and a basket of muffins, untouched yet as she was reading a book.
Cryosanthia stops in her tracks when she sees the silver-now-brownscale. The floral scents mask the ones of decay. She swiftly moves to the other woman's side, "Seyardu? What happened? Is that... mummy rot?"
Her sense of smell is enhanced, and she ends up covering her nose discretely.
Lily is not discrete, "Ewwww! Ssshe sstinkss!"
"Little Fang. Be polite." The whitescale instructs, then spots her mul'niessian friend, and her youngling's new auntie. "Aryia? You too? What has happened?"
Indeed, it is towards that particular pair of patients that the petite practitioner proceeds. "I am pleased to see you both still focused upon rest," Verna notes as she reaches the feet of Aryia's and Seyardu's cots.
She looks to the door and entrants after, the brightly colored (or color-free) scales promptly catching her notice; nor are they less conspicuous as infrequent visitors, so far as she can recall. "Peace on your nests," she greets the pair in the appropriate tongue. "What aid do you require?" It appears obvious that they do not require her services as a Mourner, which is just as well.
Aryia shifts a bit at the familiar voices, an ear twitching as her name is called out. She yawns, but doesn't move or peel off her self-made blindfold. A hand raises. "I hate zombies." Fair enough.
She gives a thumbs up toward Verna. Not resting meant not getting back to beating people up sooner. Still, she found it welcome to focus on meditating on certain aspects that revealed themselves as of late. <Handspeech>
Seyardu yawns and sniffs at the aor a few times before she rolls onto her back and sits up to meet the guests with another yawn. The response from Lily only gets an amused chuff. "It isss alright, thiss one knowsss they look horrible, and sssmell worse." She replies with much more of the sibilant accent than usual. "It isss a ssstory. Druid ghostsss outssside of the city."
"Peace on your nesssts, what bringsss you here, yesss?"
"Zombiesss." Lily partially translate for Cryo, giving her enough to fill in. She nods, she's dealt with zombies before. That's sort of how it goes. "Druid Ghosts?"
Followed by, "Do they glow green instead of white?"
She looks at Verna, and bows, then replies to her friends. "This one wants to hear your stories, please tell. I was seeking Verna." Focuse on the Mourner once more, "This one was hoping you could show me how to scry? This one planned safer targets than last time. Friends."
She was actually planning on scrying Aryia, maybe Seyardu as well. With both of them here she considers others... the Seer? Braelnoir? Someone that wouldn't get upset.
Verna is already lifting a hand at mention of scrying, though it pauses at the clarification that follows. They both may well have had similar concerns and/or recollections. "I understand. I can aid you, though scrying is not my specialty." She looks between the two patients among many. "Admittedly, neither is healing."
Aryia snerks at the idea of a glowing green spooky ghost, her grunting as she sits upright. She pulls the mask off, her yawning one more time and rubbing at her blazing eyes. She gives a wave to Cryo, then pats the pinkscale on the head. "Peace on your nest," she motions slowly, standing up to carefully stretch. A look to Verna, and shakes her head with a silent chuckle. She pats the Mourner's shoulder. "I'm going to go on a walk. Won't leave the gardens, promise."
Without waiting to be cleared, she dons a verdant jacket and shoves her hands into her pockets. The mute strolls out, needing some fresh air. <Handspeech>
"No, it jussst lookss, very ghosstly. No green" She explains flatly. Mention scrying gets a brow raised, and her book is closed and dropped into her satchel hanging up nearby, title 'Salacious Stories of Sith-Makar', with a crimson pen emblazoned in a corner.
"You are, attempting to ssscry? I am sssure Verna could asssisst."
"You face! What wrong you face? Mask why?" Lily signs at Aryia, then says, "Tia Aryiassayass goings walksss. Gardenss."
"What was it you signed?" The gesturing was caught. The pinkscale grins, "Ssayingss Hi."
Cryosanthia doubts it, somehow, and bobs her head regardless. "I see. This one hopes you will recover soon then, you do not look comfortable."
The whitescale looks around, for something to sit on perhaps, or judging the space for the proposed activity. She places her hands on her lower back and arches, stretching, a move that emphasizes the curve where she carries her eggs. She straightens and smoothes over her corset, adjusting, hiding nothing. "Well, this one has never done it, so anything you show will help, Verna. I planned to look at Aryia. I've ordered a scrying mirror bowl."
Verna watches Aryia venture off, if briefly. "That is recommended," is her only comment to the mul. Should she go push herself too hard... well, she will be the first to know. Back to Cryosanthia, she turns and nods. "A wise choice if you intend to do so often, though any reflective surface will typically suffice. You may be able to keep your choice of target, afterall, as well."
Her remaining patient's movement brings her attention to Seyardu. "We still need to see your scales fully restored. Ideally before any salacious activities in which you may or may not wish to indulge. On that note, it is my understanding that there are several blatant anatomical errors in the second and fifth novelettes," she nods towards Seyardu's satchel. "Is that correct?"
Ah, yes, back to Cryosanthia. "We should first locate a suitable temporary viewing surface."
There was nothing wrong with Aryia's face (aside from the usual), the mask she held in hand was just a small half face mask, one that would cover the noes and mouth. "I'm fine, don't worry," Aryia signs to Little Fang, patting her head as she heads on out before others speak of her. <Handspeech>
"Yes, there are. This one did not write those." Cryosanthia says, before her brain catches her mouth and tells it to stay closed. It quickly feeds a clarifying comment to be spoken, "This one... ahh.. understands the stories typically exaggerate features and abilities."
Explain! It's necessary to explain! "Merek was nothing like humans are oft described."
Too much! Too much information! "It was... not a salacious encounter. We were swimming."
The whitescale's scents are very carefully controlled now. She's also not moving much. "Yes, a suitable temporary viewing surface. Yes. Let's locate one."
Seyardu says, "Aryia sssayss she will be fine." Seyardu translates for Cryosanthia when Aryia is taking off. Though her attention is jerked back to Verna rather abruptly as her choice of literature is brought up. The embarrassment manages to cut through the scent of decay.
"Thisss one, hasss not read the fifth ssstory yet." She responds to the cleric, with the tiniest of nods. "But yess, Makari can only breathe underwater for an hour at mossst in a day. Even lesss under, ssstrenuouss conditionss."
Her attention turned to Cryosanthia, and the not so silver scaled sith-makar squints. "I undersstand, I think. Thisss one can help look for a mirror. the Altheansss may have some they ussse for patientsss." She offers."
Verna thought it was a perfectly legitimate inquiry and confirmation of her knowledge and/or understanding. Obviously, the sith-makar are more familiar with sith-makar anatomy, abilities, and/or practices than she; thus appropriate fonts of wisdom to tap into.
On matters of wisdom, Seyardu's comment sparks something of an epiphany in the current context. That being Cryosanthia's request, not how long sith-makar might be able to breathe through their gills.
She bends to retrieve a wide pan from under one of the cots to place upon Aryia's formerly-occupied cot. A brief utterance and water fills it perhaps halfway. Temporary reflective surface solved.
Yes, it may be a bedpan, but Verna is not irresponsible. It is a -clean- bedpan. "Your mirror," she notes with words and a gesture.
"This one does not have the mirror. It is being made." Cryosanthia says, "I had hoped there was a sufficient one around, or we could use the one we used last time."
She glances at the bedpan, so any bowl of water will do. Her did not need to be so fancy or have the mirror built in.
Although as a possession she plans to use often, it might just.
"Asss far asss thiss one isss aware, either a pool of water, or a sssilver mirror will work. Perhapsss, a ssssilver mirror filled with water, will prove even more reliable." Seyardu chuffs when she sees the focus "Perhapsss even thisss one would function, with enough polisssh, and if thisss one did not look like a corpssse freshly dug."
"This should suffice for now," Verna notes, "though Seyardu's suggestion is valid... and an intriguing thought." She does not immediately clarify whether she refers water in a mirrored bowl, or the sith's own scales. The Mourner has not forgotten about the latter, however.
After stepping back from the l'eau de toilette of impromptu clairsentience instruction, she reminds Seyardu, "We shall have your scales pristine once more, preferably sooner rather than later." To Cryosanthia, she instructs, "It is a matter of focusing upon your desired target as you invoke the magic."
Lily leaps from Cryo's shoulders onto Aryia's vacated bed, snuggling into the warm sheets and lying on her pillow. It will smell slighly lizardy from this, as the pinkscale was wet from being rained on. She sprawls out and extends a hand towards Seyardu, "Books!"
"No Lily, not until you're older." Her Ssassa shuts that impulse down. The implausible, impractical, and outright ludicrous stories are not for young eyes.
Not for mature eyes either. They had led her astray with the human concepts of love and devotion, which are not the same as how they manifest in the people.
"Okay. Focus on the target. Then what do you do?" Cryosanthia has watched many a scrying. Performing one would seem to be another beast.
"Yesss, Cryosanthia iss right. There are many much better booksss to be read." Seyardu agrees. "Thisss one is jussst looking for variouss reasonsss."
She sighs, and nods to Verna. "I am sssure thingsss will be fine. I wasss looking for Cryosssantia for asssisstance with polisssh, among other thingss."
Verna regards Seyardu a moment longer before nodding. "I will leave the polishing to the experts, in that case." Returning her focus to Cryosanthia, then, perhaps more completely now that she relinquishes some concern for Seyardu, she demonstrates as she explains. "First, the proper gestures." It is a rather simple trio of motions, which she enumerates as they are made, the pattern repeated several times.
"Second, the intonations," she adds, followed by series of three syllables, pause, another three, pause, and a third set of three. This series is also repeated thrice, though more to aid in Cryosanthia's memory than a requirement.
Dutifully, Cryosanthia duplicates the motions and intonations made by Verna. She enjoys books, but it is clear she learns more effectively by doing and verbally demarks her efforts. "Motions, okay. Then intonations."
There's no flickering on her scales as there usually is when she casts. "Do you just keep doing it?"
She looks over her shoulder at Seyardu, "You... your scales will need to recover or replace before a polish would be effective.."
Verna watches as Cryosanthia repeats the motions and sounds, nodding her approval... and as an answer. "They are simple, short, and rhythmic by intent. They must be repeated for some time to focus enough to cross any distance, even if it may be a small one."
On the bright side, one casting is oft enough to burn the sequence permanently into memory for most. On the other hand, Little Fang could easily be napping before it is done. Possibly.
Is that boon or bane?
"Yesss, it isss unfortunate. I am hoping it will not be too long, asss this one was invited to go camping with Sjach." She explains with a slightly frustrated sigh. She reaches over to Aryia's bed, pats the carnation Kobold on the head, and plucks a silvery strand of hair off of the pillow, which she drops into the scrying pool.
"Apologiesss for interrupting, but thisss will make it much eassier to focusss on the correct persson. Unnecessary when ussed to the sspell, and they do not mind the sscrying."
"Oh, thanks. Right." Cryosanthia nods, having seen it done without a focus, but also remembering the list that was brought by her room at the Temple of Daeus. She briefly wonders what happened to that, then dismisses the thought. She has too much on her plate.
She repeats the motion, the intonations. Over and over. Over. and. Over. And Over.
Cryosanthia is in danger of falling asleep by the time it takes to cast the spell. Lily seems perfectly awake, energetic even. Rolling around on Aryia's bed, tangling herself in the covers. Asking Seyardu for something every three minutes or so.
"A camping trip sounds like fun. Let me know when you go, I'll see if I can see you." That isn't ominous at all. "Is this working Verna?"
As the intoning drones on, Verna gives Seryardu a silent yet appreciative nod at the potent addition. While Cryosanthia may or may not have already subverted her own attempts at the spell with her inquiry, Verna does not respond verbally for risk of hampering it, herself. Instead, she points to the pan of water, to her eyes, and back to the water.
"Thisss, ah, perhapss ssseeing through ssscrying another time would be ideal." Seyardu deflects, before the spell continues on, and she is much more busy speaking to the kobold, though what she can do while remaining nearby is limited to assist them.
Cryosanthia continues, standing in place, repeating the motions. Her tail droops until it is resting on the floor, and she shifts her weight all on one leg, then the other, then back again and slowly sinks to a more raptor-ish posture where her centre of gravity is closer to directly between them.
It's a meditation, of sorts, and her mind is wandering temptingly close to sleep. There's a flicker, a pulse along her patterns, a deep blue glow which grows paler, and then turns into cold white sparkles that trace out along her arms.
The water in the bedpan shimmers. There's a dark coalescing, an image on the verge of forming.
GAME: Aryia rolls will-15: (5)+7+-15: -3 (-5 Familiar, -10 Focus, vs Scry)
The image that forms within the waters is a candid sight. Aryia could be seen kneeling in front of a yellow flower, her reaching a scarred hand out towards it. She gently caresses it, a small smile cresting her lips. She looks one way, then the other, then softly sighs. The mute focuses for a moment before leaning in. Her bright eyes grow stronger as she brushes the pad of her thumb long the petals. Pale light, bright as the full moon, smears over it like a bioluminescent chemical. She spends her time painting each of the petals like this, it bright as any torchlight.
Satisfied with her work, she leans into catch a scent of it, but ends up getting some of the light on her nose, and she goes cross eyed at it. A hand wipes at it, hoping it would rid it, but only succeeds in further glowing her face up. Aryia flusters at herself for the time being, only succeeding in making it worse. Like a toddler with finger paints, it gets absolutely everywhere
It's an entertaining scrying channel to tune into.
Seyardu finally turns back to the scrying pool when some form of result takes form. She nods, and chuckles a bit after watching it. "That isss quite bright, but it is good ssshe isss keeping up with her practice."
She looks to Cryosanthia, and tilts her head. "Are you going to attempt to messssage her through it?"
"Intriguing..." Verna notes as she looks to the imagery. "I was not aware that she held such an interest in botany, or painting, for that matter..."
"Oh wow. This one did not know either." Cryosanthia gasps in awe as the spell finally kicks in, and she can observe Aryia. Observe her with a flower, finger painting it. Something she would not have expected at all. "Lily, come look, it's working!"
Her youngling jumps up beside the bedpan, without spilling it, and stares into the waters. She reaches out to touch Aryia, and Cryo gentle stops her, "No, not yet. Let's see if we can talk to her."
Her left hand flips through an quick gesture, one well practiced, that ends with her making a little bugle shape with her hand, then pointing at herself, Lily, Verna and Seyardu before the final finger-cock at Aryia.
"Aryia, it's Cryosanthia, can you hear me? We can hear and see you."
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d100: (5): 5 (vs 70%, Message Cantrip through Scry)
Have you ever seen a spooked cat? How high they jump into the air? Well, that happens. Except tenfold. Aryia abruptly leaps into the air, faded after images marking her path straight up into the sky. The sensor tries to keep up, it leaving the gardens before suddenly going right back to where it was before, a wide eyed Aryia looking around briskly. "... wh-t th- f-ck. F-ck-ng wh-t...?"
A blink. Another blink.
The glowing elf is there. Then she isn't. A fading afterimage marking her departure.
The sensor flies through the garden, through the doors of the hospital, then lingers over a tall whitescale, and a Mourner.
Aryia clears her throat, right behind the two of them, her crossing her arms as half of her body was mottled in glowing moonlight. She is at maximum pout.
Seyardu can't keep up with the movement, and she closes her eyes to avoid becoming overwhelmed. When Aryia returns, she sighs, seeming embarassed again. "Ah, peace on your nessst Aryia. Sssorry, we were jussst trying communication through the ssspell."
"I believe that your spell is functioning as it should," Verna advises Cryosanthia mater-of-factly. She then crouches to retrieve something before turning towards Aryia. "Did you enjoy your fresh air? If I may be so bold, you appear to be rested and moving without great discomfort. You also have a bit of something on your face..." She extends an arm and gloved hand towards her, offering a wet washingcloth.
"Wait, what, urrrrf. I'm feeling ill." Cryo says, as the image jumps, and jumps, and finally stabilizes but not before claiming its first Wolfensickness victim. The whitescale is immediately preoccupied by what she sees.
"Is that what this one looks like from behind now? Oh it really shows." The whitescale twists from side to side, examining her profile and silhouette. "I wonder if I'd look better with my pack lower, or the cloak a little longer."
"Oh hi Aryia."
Lily simply claps and waves.
Yes... Cryosanthia definitely wasn't getting a mirror to be vain.
Then, from out of the scrying bowl their conversation repeats.
"Ah, peace on your nessst Aryia. Sssorry, we were jussst trying communication through the ssspell."
"I believe that your spell is functioning as it should..."
"Did you enjoy your fresh air? If I may be so bold, you appear to be rested and moving without great discomfort. You also have a bit of something on your face..."
"Wait, what, urrrrf. I'm feeling ill."
"Is that what this one looks like from behind now? Oh it really shows."
"I wonder if I'd look better with my pack lower, or the cloak a little longer."
"Oh hi Aryia."
It seems there's a delay in the audio coming through. A slight one, that gets shorter, and shorter, until it turns into a high-pitched, feedback whine.
Aryia taps her foot, glaring up at everyone (except Verna, she has to look down a bit,) but she ends up taking the rag with a huff. She tries to wipe it off, but only succeeds in making the rag glow as well. Her face grows red with embarrassment.
She not mad, per se, but a little (lotta) pouty.
The building noise makes the mute flinch, then look pained, her having to cover her sensitive ears.
Seyardu chuckles, and shakes her head. "Your massstery of that ssspell iss much better now. Thisss one can not ssay the same about their wingsss from magic."
"Ssstop and collect yourssself, find a point to undo the magic."
Verna frowns as the audio feedback starts and grows. "You should relocate the-" some of her words are drowned out, even to herself. This is only made moreso as gloved hands lift to cover her ears.
"Off! Off!" Cryosanthia shakes her hands, cancelling her Message cantrip. It's not a spell she turns off, very often.
It doesn't help. The Scrying is hearing itself, because it is focused on Aryia and the mul'niessa is in range of the bowl. The high pitched screech and blur of their voices continues, additional words and phrases joining in.
"Relocatetheyoumassterrystopwingsoff!"
Cryo repeats the earlier motions, hum, followed with a frantic, "Change targets to um..." The noise is making her grit her teeth.
"Tiasss Braeesss." Lily says, shoving her hands into the water. Splashing.
The image is disrupted, the sound warbles and warps.
Then...
It's a cozy spot, wherever she's holed up for the moment, outside the fortress of solitude as she is finally able to swap out as it were.
Autumn leaves are swept from a small firepit dug into the earth heating a small Stromgarde oven near a low profile lean-to covered similarly with the discarded former greenery, likely to make it less obvious.
Several ribbons of wafting smoke dot the area.
The likely reason, Braelnoir herself, is clad in a whole lot of not much black leather, aside from her weapons belt, while most of her equipment is tucked into her shelter.
Likewise smouldering a touch, with a leg draped at the knee over the stump she was probably using for a stool, the Korite is otherwise sprawled flat on her back with fading motes of pixie dust swirling over her, seeming at least momentarily insensate.
Some kind of unrolled parchment is pinned to the dirt by the weight of her nerveless fingers.
Aryia sighs in relief as the spell shifts to something else, her rubbing at her ears and leaning in to peer at the water. She blinks, and tilts her head to the the side.
Worry bubbled up, but soon it went away. Replaced with a tinge of envy. Man... "She looks like she's having fun." <Handspeech>
Seyardu cracked her eyes open as Lily asks for Braelnoir, and she sits up straighter, to see how they were doing. Finding them to be doing alright, Seyardu lets out a sigh of relief. "Sssshe is having fun? Well, I am glad that ssshe isss alright. I wasss worried." The cleric says.
Cryosanthia rubs at her ears, pulling her earfins back into motion and massaging the muscles that lie under her cheek bones. During this break, Lily is doubled over the scrying bowl, her nose so close her snout is almost in the water. She calls "Tia Braessss!"
"She can't hear us." Cryosanthia says, shaking out her arms, then smoothing over her corset. She can't really 'tuck herself in' but that rear view of herself is still on her mind. She leans, looking around her youngling. "This one thinks she is doing better than well."
The whitescale will have to get some of the pixie dust for herself. Oh right. Something for later. Much later. She repeats her earlier gesture, her highlight scales lighting up one by one and flickering out to her hand, and then the room occupants are pointed at, and finally Braelnoir in the image.
"Braelnoir..." She hisses, faking a surprisingly deep voice. "It's me Kor. Why aren't you fighting?"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d100: (100): 100 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Nooooooo. Kor is not amused." <OOC> Aryia says, "Kor himself be like "let warriors rest cryo jeez""
Aryia grins, snickering to herself at the attempt at a joke, as well as Cryo's observation of how well Braelnoir was doing. Damn, she'd have to get some of that stuff as well. She makes a mental note to ask the Korite about that later. The elf is still glowing in mottled splotched like moonlight.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls spellcraft: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Seyardu rolls spellcraft: (16)+5: 21
Braelnoir gives a little groan as she starts to roll over onto her side, the parchment curling up on itself a bit. The woman, herself, seems to think that's a good idea, though she doesn't quite get fetal. The sigil of gleaming, dark red scales spiralling her arm seep crimson that mattes dirt to her arm, and the pixie dust finally fades. She shivers, gnashing her teeth as her eyes clench shut.
Seyardu squints at the scroll, but finding nothing of note, likely too difficult with the color problems. So she just sighs, and looks to the others. "Well, she is doing okay, but may have not heard the message due to sleeping. Still, it is good to know she is well, her work can be difficult at times."
She falls silent, staring at the surface of the water now, and not through it. "I have never seen a scrying spell actually in use, it works much better than expected."
Cryosanthia watches, waiting for a reaction. A groan and her scale-sister rolling over was not quite what she expected. The scroll catches her eye. "Huh. I can't make it out."
Her hands and fingers wave over the bowl, attempting adjustments. She looks over at Verna, "Is there a way to move the 'eye'? Oh." The Mourner has slipped out.
She seems about ready to cast another Message cantrip when she pauses, and examines the area. "Anyone recognize the area? I guess I shouldn't wake her if she really needs the sleep. This is kind of fun though."
An image pops into her head. One of the Fey Queen pouring over a bowl of ice-water for hours and hours, checking up on her and others. It is addictive!
"She does. Very hard. Her leg is looking better. She's got a lot more scales." The whitescale makes a decision, her message cantrip is repeated, she tries again, sans joke. "Psssst. Braelnoir. This is Cryosanthia calling. Can you hear me?"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d100: (23): 23 (vs under 70%)
"C-Cry...!" she hisses, "Think I fu-!"
There is a muffled, vaguely unpleasant sound as Brae convulses, arching her back with a yowl as her legs seem to... lose integrity, flailing from the knees down in an almost serpentine manner with her feet seemingly locked en pointe.
The fairy dust returns, lashing out with shimmering arcs of energy that sear swaths out of her skin, revealing an almost liquid smooth skein of silver much like her shouler brand.
Suddenly, she unleashes a deep, resonant bellow of rage, and she pushes up from one arm, lashing out at the hurtful willowisps with a webbed hand, capped with gleaming silver glaws, but her efforts to get up to her feet come sort....
As the fluke of her comingled limbs refuse to make that leap.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/arcana: (19)+12: 31 GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/arcana: (5)+5: 10
Seyardu squints and stands up proper now, her momentary musing broken by the korite clearly not doing the best. "This does not look good, but you are reaching her, can you speak to make her know it is you for certain?" She asks, growing a bit more panicked.
"Ah! Brae! What are you trying to do?" Cryo grabs the bowl, which sloshes, shaking the image. "I don't you did it right! That's a polymorph! It... ah... um! It's not working. No! Don't Rage, that's not helping!"
"Disspellss?" Lily cries frantically.
"Yes. No. It'll dispel the Scry, not.. whatever she's doing. Braelnoir, where are you? Anyone recognize where she is?"
Aryia's brows shoot up. Damn, it wasn't some fun stuff. Her brows knit, her leaning in towards the bowl. A hand comes up to rest on Cryo's side, her making a calming, "Shhhh..." sound, trying to keep things relaxed.
Braelnoir writhes, lashing out to no real effect against the tormenting spellwork, though her eyes, slit and golden turn toward the sound of a voice.
The Korite buckles as a lash of energy sears a jagged silver line bordered in soot down the side of her neck, subtle parallel slits visible in it's wake.
The transformation of her legs continues, and the leather bits of her lower half rip free amongst the thrashing of Brae's gleaming tail.
More lashes, and the nub of a tiny limb is left protruding from under one of her arms, and at once, she sinks to the dirt, breathing hard and smoking anew as the magic fades once more into the ether.
Her claws retreat under the sheath of her human nails, and in the ensuing silence, the transfigured fighter is left breathing, criss crossed with silver seared into her flesh, and the wind carries the partment out of view the mirrored pool provides.
GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/local: (11)+2: 13 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/local: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/nature: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/nature: Trained Use Only: 0
"I do not recognize the place, it looks like any forest to this one." Seyardu sighs, growing increasingly worried. "I can search for someone to give a more accurate location, but that will take some time."
"Scales!" Cryosanthia peers into the bowl. She can see a small area, roughly one hundred and fifty feet, surrounding her sister. "Wait. I think I recognize that creek, and that's out where the trees get dense. Um, keep watching, keep this area clear."
She gestures at the space between the beds, and takes a long look. She follows, some sort of cast which she weaves with boths hands, twisting. It's almost a dance. Her markings sparkle and she glows with light almost as much at Aryia is.
>Bloop<
Cryo is gone. Not in the room, not in the bowl.
Aryia's brows pinch, trying to remember where the place was. She has an inkling of an idea, her bringing up her hands. "I can go get-" <Handspeech>
Poof.
The glowing elf blinks. She looks to the waters, to Seyardu, then to Lily.
Auntie Aryia just shrugs up to her ears.
Seyardu was almost ready to leave, but it seemed that Cryosanthia beat her to it, much more directly. She sighs and stares at the scrying pool.
"I am sssure thingssss will be alright. Sssstay behind Aryia and me though, jussst in case." She asks Lily, watching for any manner of movements in the room or bowl.
Lily bobs in place, and nods her head. She keeps looking in the bowl, ringside seat so to speak.
On the upside, the angry fairy dust doesn't seem interested in doing an encore.
On the downside, Braelnoir, aside from laying there, half turned into some sort of screwed up merfolk, doesn't do anything more interesting than breathe for the time being.
She's never gonna hear the end of this.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "is the parchment gone?" <OOC> Braelnoir says, "um. roll percentile, under 30 it's stuck in some bushes nearby" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d100: (44): 44
Seconds pass. Minutes pass. If Cryosanthia was trying out for the Guards, she barely beats their response time. It takes a while before she becomes visible, flying into the scene.
She moves strangely through the air, more like she's swimming than flying, and oddly not falling. While swift enough, it's not elegant and as she gets near the semi-merfolk form of her scale-sister she simple stops.
Mid air. Hovering without using her wings. Levitating. She sinks down to the ground.
"It's okay Brae, I got you." She crouches, kneeling beside her scale sister and casts another spell, one that surrounds Braelnoir, "Ok, fly with me."
She turns and takes off, the be-scaled silver merc in tow. The image follows the scry target, showing the pair of them on their return flight. Tress passing beneath them.
It's several more minutes before the Alexandrian city walls pass beneath, and recognizable streets can be seen, far above. As they close on the Soldier's Defense, there's another flash of light, another >bloop< and Cryo and Braelnoir appear in the space between the beds.
Aryia is just kind of there. Waiting. She does focus a bit on herself, almost able to get the glow off of her after trying to wipe it away with her will. A bit melts away and vanishes, but she only manages to get her face clear of the bioluminceant moonlight before she's spooked from the sudden appearance of Cryo and Brae. She pulls off a blanket for a cot, her walking over to help move her onto the bed.
Braelnoir doesn't put up a fight as she's scooped up in her sister's arms, her scent a unique plend of draconic, human, piscean and... bacon?
Probably the burns.
The transformed human misses the experience as she is literally airborne back to the city.
She's warm, though, so that's something, and her breathing is steady, if a mite shallow.
Seyardu was waiting patiently and watching the scryig, but when Lily did not move, she had to pick up the kobold to set down behind her. And then back to waiting. Until suddenly Cryosanthia is in the room, as is Braelnoir. The not-so-silver scaled makari relaxes after jumping slightly, and helps to bring her to the bed as well.
"I am sure she will be alright, though I do not know the nature of what happened." She states, already trying to figure out what to do.
Lily is picked up and set down behind Seyardu.
This works as well on her as it does most cats. She climbs the parent, or in this case, the brownscale, so she can have a good view of the scrying bowl.
She is not expecting scales to come off under her tiny claws, nor the increased whiffy-ness. "Eewwwww."
Cryo lifts Braelnoir into Aryia's bed, saying, "What? Lily don't climb Seyardu, she's injured."
She steps out of the way, "Do you have any idea of how to help her Seyardu? Should I get another healer?" The whitescale looks at the merc-maid. "Um..."
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls heal: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)
"Yea, I have no idea what to do."
GAME: Seyardu rolls heal: (11)+8: 19
Aryia puts a blanket over Braelnoir, the elf a bit too shiny and lit like a moonlit tree. She turns to Lily, her sighing a bit and picking up the carnation scale off of Seyardu and plopping her on her own shoulders. She was stable enough for the task as she ambles over to the bowl for the little one to peer in.
Braelnoir continues breathing normally, mostly ragdoll until she's laid into the bed, and remains stable as she is convered by the blanket.
One of her tailfins pokes out of the corner, shining in the lamplight.
"Yesss, it iss unpleasant, but I am sure that it will be alright." Seyardu sighs, thankful for Aryia taking care of the small kobold for now. She squints, and shakes her head. "I can not think of any particular things, but she was hurt by the spell, whatever it is. Stable, but injured, and burned."
She squints in particular at the tail for a moment. "I will be right back." She states before taking off, returning with a bunch of wooden planks, and a large treated canvas. "These are often used for patients who need to bathe, it should help with the burns, and the current transfiguration to some manner of mer-person. Could one of you help me to set it up?"
It's a portable bathtub.
The largely unattended scrying bowl starts to repeat the conversations again. "I am sure she will be all right." "Ewwww!" "I have no idea what to do." "I will be right back." "Could one of you help me set it up?"
Faster and faster. Lily knows where it's going. She also knows how it ends. She whips the bedpan with her tail, "Dissspellsss!" Water splashes everywhere, it falls on the floor with a clatter.
The noise is cut off before it reaches its unbearable stage.
"Yes... ah... this one will help." Cryo turns and helps assemble the portable bathtub.
Lily cast dispel magic. Actually, a similar spell known to all young folk: childhood mess. A spell that duplicates many other spells, such as ghost sound, arcane mark, light, spark, dancing lights, message. A spell that allows children to manage implausible things while their parents' attention is elsewhere.
Aryia flinches as her backside is splashed with water. She gives a long sigh, nods, and assists in setting it up while the keeping the kobold steady on her shoulders.
Lily fingerpaints the wall.
Cryosanthia says, "That's never coming off"
Aryia assists.
Cryosanthia feels the weight of motherhood
Aryia is both the strict aunt and the enabler aunt
Lily, who has discovered that supervising is a form of helping, helps. "Attach therresss."
In time, shortly after the Korite is deposited in the bath, there begins a sound... like twisting celery, only muffled and dotted with the odd, muted pop here and there. The silver fluke begins to shrivel and split as the silver scales start to flake off in patches, and soak back into Brae's flesh in others. The contours of the piscean tail gain in complexity as the single limb, returning to it's human hide is starting to drawn into a kind of seam up the centerline.
The web between her fingers starts to fray like a sail left to the mercy of years, while the odd, little.... arm(?) at her side seems to discorporate like silver ink into the water.
In the end, the spell lashed burns remain, though the silvern veneer is subsumed by more normal flesh.
Aryia cringes as that that sound, her clutching her own left arm in a phantom pain. She shudders and steps off, placing the kobold on a cot and fidgets with her own bandages. Carefully pulling them off, having been ruined by water. But she's healed up by this point, clerics do a bang up job.
When the korite turned back, Seyardu, who had been sitting nearby, chuffs and begins pulling her out of the bath that had been filled up by magic. In the process, she looks to Cryosanthia. "You have magic for drying, yes? That is probably best, before I set her down in the bed."
Cryosanthia watches, standing very still. It takes her back to her more medical moments with the Fey Queen. Unpleasant memories which have accustomed her to a lot of biological oddities.
Though it does hurt to see her sister warp with such uncomfortable sounds.
Lily grabs a pillow and balls herself up in the covers, making unhappy noises. Enough that her Ssassa sits on the bed and curls her tail protectively around her, then thrums loud enough to drown them out until the transformation is done.
"Yes, this one does." The whitescale says, moving magically. Her gloves glow. She wipes Bralnoir down with them. She's dry. Cryo picks up the bundle-bold so there's room on the bed again.
Aryia just helps Seyardu with getting Brae onto the bed. Not really sure what to do with herself at this point after getting her bandages off and discarded.
Braelnoir, returning to relative normalcy, even starts to smell proper for the most part. Being dried certainly doesn't hurt.
While her injuries linger, there is enough recovery in the aftermath of the reversion that the Korite's breathing deepens and her pallor improves before she sounds a weary groan, and her eyes start to flutter open, "Mmmmmnng....! W'n'fug....!" she slurs.
Seyardu, seeing Braelnoir start to stir, smiles, but she steps back, bundling up the canvas from the bathtub and lifting it up. "I will be back, but I should not remain here, lest she think herself abducted by undead. There are muffins by my bed, you all are welcome to them, they have chocolate in them, which is nice."
And then she disappears out of the field hospital tent with the large bag in hand.
"Are you okay Braelnoir? What were you trying to do?" Cryo asks, unbundling Lily and placing her on her shoulders. Her head is shaking slightly.
She nods as Seyardu departs, "She's usually better than that..."
"Muzzzzinss!" Lily is feeling better, mining for muffins.
Aryia glances to the offering. She shrugs, and joins in on the muffin looting, her sitting down on the adjacent cot to wait for Braelnoir to properly awaken. She gives a little wave once some lucidity comes back to the Korite's eyes. She nibbles on the treat, keeping her breathing steady.
Each breath erases a smidgen on the glow.
Braelnoir blinks blearily at first, and she looks around in some momentary confusion, trying to push herself up onto her elbows.
By the time she's managed that, there is a certain clarity in her wolfish eyes, "Ah! Shiiiiii.." a glance to Lily perched on her sister's shoulders, "Ah."
Cough, "Heya...." Brae gives another blink and looks around, catching the departing brownscale, "W'the hell are we...?"
A blink, as she notes the condition of, "Aryia... th'hell happen ta you?"
She swallows, a hand rubbing at her throat, as she colors, looking at her body, "I's tryin' ta see if it's possible ta get back where I was..."
"We're in the Soldier's Defense. We were trying out a scrying spell and saw your transformation... not work." Cryosanthia says, straightening a little, smoothing her hands over her front. "It was... concerning."
"Are you feeling better now?" She asks carefully.
Lily waves a half-eaten muffin.
Aryia gives a little smile as Brae starts to get her bearings and some lucidity. "Hey. I'm good. Just, um, mul'neissa magic I'm figuring out, don't worry about it," she harmlessly white lies. She goes back to evenly breathing, slowly getting rid of the light. Just her lower half remaining now. <Handspeech>
"Feel like I one'a them false dragons horked on me again." Brae notes sourly, looking toward one of her burns, "An' had m'ass kicked, but.. I don't feel anymore wierd.... shifting."
A hand extends toward the carnationscale, as she asks with a little smile "Hey, Squirt. Bein' good fer Ssassa....?"
Her attention is drawn back to Aryia's reply as the signs begin and she gives a little nod, "Yeah... know what that's like. Took me a while t'suss out what I got going on after I got... cured I guess?" She shrugs, then considers herself again, wiggling her toes, "Sorry if'n I spooked ya'll.. an'... how the hell'd ya know where I was anyhow?"
Seyardu returned after a moment, or, it was likely Seyardu? The silver sith-makar was a tarnished dull brown, with numerous scales peeling and falling out in several places, and she smelled somewhat like a decaying corpse. Still, she smiles to Braelnoir. "Peace on your nessst. Thisss one will tend to the burnsss soon. Would you like a chocolate chunk muffin? There are far too many for me to eat myssself before they dry out. As for how Cryossanthia knew where you were, she wasss tessting out sssscrying magic. It issss a good thing sssshe wasss."
"Yaaasss." Lily hops into range for Braelnoir to grab and also hands her the other half of her muffin. Her mouth is very clean.
"We were trying out a scrying poo." Cryosanthia gestures towards the bedpan. She coughs and clears her throat, "Pool. A scrying pool. It works sufficiently well, it takes a while to cast."
"Verna showed me how. I had bought a scroll to help out Seyardu, then decided it might be a useful thing to know." Cryo's tail sways slowly behind her. She's not copying the power tactics of her Endless Winter, not at all. She bobs her head convincingly, "just a test, yes."
Aryia nods along as the others explain ."Yes... uh. I get glowing sometimes. Working on it," she mumbles with her hands, the rest of the moonlight gone, save for her eyes. Those don't go out usually. <Handspeech>
Braelnoir turns her attention toward the returning... Seyardu??
"Sey, someone put some hoodoo on ya'r what?" she asks in some concern, forcing herself more upright, "Who needs killin'?"
There's a look to Cryo, brows high, then to the offer of confections and, somewhat derailed by that, she somewhat numbly reaches for one, "Ahh, sure, thanks, luv."
As Lily hopes her way, she makes to catch her into a hug, wincing slightly as a few of those stripes are kinda tender, but she doens't bitch about it, "Good girl." she croons, instead.
She considers her sister as she speaks, snerking some at, "Scryin' poo, huh?" but otherwise clams up for her to finish explaining. Her eyes trail down the palescale's tail, trying to read into the rate of sway, but, "Could b'handy."
She gets a slightly distracted look in her eye for a moment, then suddenly, she's wearing a black leather dress that leaves her branded shoulder bare, "Thanks fer bringin m'back... ahh.. got th'rest o'my gear?"
She tracks Aryia's signs once more and returns, "Tha's.. different. How long's that been goin' on?"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls spellcraft: (4)+7: 11 (vs DC10) GAME: Seyardu rolls spellcraft: (7)+5: 12 (vs DC10) GAME: Braelnoir rolls spellcraft: (8)+3: 11 (vs DC10)
"Ahhh.... no..." Cryo admits, her tailsway slowing to a stop, and a drop of guilt. She smiles, more of an awkward grin, "I can teleport now, really, really short distances. So... I flew, and that takes longer, and I was in a bit of a rush."
"I should go... get the rest of it." She seems like she might.
Seyardu sighs, and nods. "It isss a ssstory, druid ghossst buried me in a grave." She explains, having forgotten how many times she had done so. "I will be fine, eventually."
Seyardu moves to take a muffin, biting into it, which sends a few more scales flaking off. "Yesss, ah, there wasss a ssscroll to help me, I think."
The cleric squints at Aryia. "Jussst applying illumination to a touched surface, it is sssimple, but sstill need to figure out the source."
Aryia rubs her neck, looking off to the side at the question. Her lips purse, blazing bright eyes, squinting at nothing. "... depends on what the start is. A month, maybe? Longer? Me putting lights on stuff was only a few days ago. Can't do it a lot though..."
She purses her lips, looking between the two of them. The elf steps up to Cryo after swiping another muffin. Looks like she'll go as well.
Nest watcher and all that.
She raises a brow, to Seyardu. "... sssimple for you and other mages, maybe. I'd like to know glow like a torch on accident." <Handspeech>
"Sshe likesss glowing." Lily explains with a mouthful of muffin. She's gotten another one, somehow. She will likely retrieve them infinitely until the supply runs out. "Wantss go with."
"Ah." Cryo says, looking Aryia over and briefly considering a larger version of the backpack saddle she uses for Little Fang. Or perhaps, she should not try carrying more people. "This one has another fly spell, which we can use outside. I will be running low after."
She heads out, pulling her wings in to exit the room. Teleportation has its advantages there.
Braelnoir blinks, "Huh." is all she has at first to her sister's new powers, then nods and smiles, reaching out to gently clasp her arm for a moment, then looks to Seyardu as she speaks, absently giving Lily a squeze.
She frowns, but, her experience treating wounds... well, the two have already discussed, but still, "You lemme know if'n ya need something else ta take care of'that, Seya."
She considers Aryia, opening her mouth to say what little she understands about the mojo involed, but, Seyardu beats her to the punch, and she really hasn't got much better than that.
With the exodus, she palms her face a moment, then, with a sigh, glances over to the tarnished silverscale, "Lotsa gossip ta catch up on...." she muses...
Aryia sighs, reaching out to carefully pat the mercenary. "You rest. And you too, Seyardu, she points to the both of them before walking backwards out of the hospital. One final point to Lily. "You. Be good. Stay with Aunt Braelnoir." <Handspeech>
A fly spell? Aryia thinks to herself. What was that like? She wasn't sure what that would feel like, but if it was anything like the flying cauldron she was in, she was prepared to be beyond nervous.
And crash into many things.
She does, in fact, crash into many things.
Outside, Cryo flings herself into the air and tries to miss the ground. Her flying is erratic, as before, as if she's swimming in air. She rises at times when her wings are not sweeping in a way that would give her lift, so she's controlling her vertical some other way.
She doesn't have great control over her horizontal. She flutters, despite her crystal clear focus. Once Aryia grabs onto her tail, all that she can see and hear is whitescale and wind, and Cryosanthia needs a longer skirt. Although it would not have helped in this circumstance; leg armour that went all the way up might.
They fly, over the city, the walls, into the woods and far away to Braelnoir's campsite. Cryo lands once again, vertically, doing so slowly so Aryia doesn't crash. The rabbit stew has finished, the meat tender and soft, only slightly burned to the bottom. The silver-haired merc's equipment is nearby, and her scroll found eventually. It didn't blow too far. With everything gathered up, it's time for the return flight.
