Blood is Thinner than Water

Yelrona cheerfully skips out of Tarien's Temple, singing a catchy hymn... then stops, stares at the spot where the portal opened last night, and carefully gives it a wide berth.

Towards that spot, a sith-makar is walking. He moves slowly and deliberately, his expression determined. He carries a great jar over his shoulder. The jar sloshes faintly as he walks. He pauses as he nears the other and stops. Offers a thump of his tail as he upends the jar over the messy residue.

Yelrona watches, skeptically. "You're not summoning demons, right?"

A flash of grin; the barest show of teeth before the sith-makar lifts the bottom end of the pottery higher. Pours it onto the earth.

It creates a sizzling, popping noise. Almost burbling, when it contacts and for a moment, there's the acrid smell of burning pus.

Yelrona steps back. Then she steps back again. It was so satisfying she does it again. "Do I even want to _know_ what you're doing!?!" she shouts from across the yard, over the sound of sizzling whatever-that-is.

"Holy water," he says roughly, a voice not wont to long speeches. Though, it sounds more damaged than anything else, more damaged than tough-guy grunt and some scarred face. The sith-makar looks up, and one might recognize the look. A hunter's look. A look of satisfaction when after a long run, you've found the prey in your jaws. ...or see it just over the horizon. Some inquisitors have it. Some paladins. Some hunters. "The priessts are in the. Templess, praying," he says, and lowers the pottery to the earth. "You--ssa," he says, face clearing. "You were. There?"

Yelrona seems reassured, and steps closer. "Yeah. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever been involved with. And I've eaten at the Ox." She regards the holy water as it pours out over the clearing. "That's brilliant. Had I thought of it I would have suggested it to the Luckbringers." She pauses a moment, does some math in her head. "And not cheap," she adds. "Even if the priests are giving their labor away, holy water isn't cheap to make. Is there someplace in particular I should be donating to defray the costs?"

"No," he says warmly. Contentedly. "Thiss is the. Temple Disstrict. One iss glad to. Contribute." The tail thumps heavily, once. "The Vardamen are. Upsset," he says and perhaps. Just perhaps, that might sound like the understatement of the century.

Yelrona laughs. "Well, that's reassuring. If the Vardamen were delighted, I would think them -- well, stranger than I already do. But why the Vardamen in particular?"

Words. One can see the reptilian struggling as he stills, as he gazes off into space. Seeing nothing, for a while. "...their clerk," he says at length. "Their..." a wave of the claws, "Ssecrets. Vardama, Thul, alwayss opposed." "Sssome monthss passt, they disscovered an abandoned. Thulian sshrine at the basse of the mountainss. Near Vardaman crypts. Abandoned ssince the. ...the realignment." The words and thoughts connect, but do not flow well. He grimaces faintly, apparently aware of this. Then leans down, and lifts the pottery to his shoulder again.

"Ah. I see." She watches the hissing, finding it soothing. "And they... disturbed it, I take it? Is this also related to the Thulian creature who was recently... feted into submission? The Maggot Man? Thul seems quite active, of late."

Razen has connected.

The sith-makar lifts the vessel onto his shoulder, again. On the ground, the ...whatever it is, or was, continues to burble and hiss faintly. It smells not unlike burning pus. And brimstone. "He hass. Reassons. The...the alliansse with the Tyrant and Avarisse. Iss always in. Hisstory but. One ssuspects he would have enjoyed the power while it. Lassted," the sith-makar says with difficulty. And then he smiles, a faint movement of scale. Scale, not designed to move. "Ssa. The Maggot Man. One hass only heard he iss hungry. And...there were other wordss, but." And he looks frustrated. Svarshan gives his head a shake. "You are. Hunting him?"

For the second time in as many days Razen leaves the temple of Angoron. It almost seems fateful considering their conversation, and he hears it right away. "Svarshan, Yelrona." He nods to each of them, curiosity evident in his expression as he glances to the ground and then to the vessel on the sith-makar's shoulder. "That demon has everyone talking now."

Yelrona shakes her head regretfully. "I am not, sadly. Too many different quarries, not enough time to pursue them all, however worthy they are of being targets. But as I understand it, _that_ one at least has been quieted for a time. But, yes. The Tyrant. And -- oh!" she says, making a sudden connection, "that reminds me. A friend suggested you would be a good person to talk to about recent events in Charn, having to do with your people, and the Mictlan, and slavery, and draconic magic?" She loooks up pleased at Razen's voice. "Good to see you!" She looks him over carefully, counts ostentatiously to four on her fingers, nods in approval. "And, yes. No shortage of demons, it seems."

"The...the People, ssa," the reptilian says with difficulty, and apology in his tone. He looks to Razen then, and thumps his tail. "Peasse to your nesst," he says, and then turns his attention back to Yelrona. Pauses. Turns it to both of them.

Razen stares at Yelrona for a moment and has the grace to look embarassed. He nods politely to Svarshan. "Pleased to see you again too friend. It's been awhile. What has you involoved with this demon?" He's going to ignore Yelrona counting his limbs.

Yelrona nods. "The People," she echoes, wondering -- not for the first time -- whether she would find the Sith easier to understand if she learned their language. She doesn't say a word about Razen not saying a word about her counting, but is clearly amused. She'll undoubtedly tire of this joke before she dies of old age. Of course, Sil live a LONG time.

The reptilian gives himself a shake, after a time of thinking. "The Charneth and magess have hunted uss for ssome time. They sseem to be...be the phrasse iss 'sstepping up' their. Attackss. Who mentioned. Draconic magic?" he asks, words difficult and slow, but addressing both of them. The pottery rests easily on his shoulder. It smells better than the fading, burbling blurp on the ground. If one could smell past the... Yeaaaaah...

Razen frowns. "I wish I could do more for your people Svarshan." He had thought that the demon might have something to do with it, but now... "Have you learned anything more about their plans? Perhaps a way to more actively act against them?" He didn't know anything about draconic magic.

Yelrona tries to remember where she heard that, going through recent conversations in her mind. She pulls out her ubiquitous notepad, flips along pages. Ah. "A monk from Charn, Aya, mentioned she'd heard rumors that the Charnith slave raiders were experimented upon by those seeking the magic of their draconic ancestry. I have no idea how reliable her sources are. And I've heard from a few sources that the Charneth are... please forgive me for saying so... using the People's bodies as weapons. Explosives, apparently. But it's all rumor and speculation. Actually, I was hoping you might clear things up somewhat."

A long pause. Longer pause.

Slow intake of breath. "One knowss of the Taaran. Sshe assaulted one'ss people and. Promotess our ensslavement, hunter. Arguess it iss a 'betterment of the. Rasse.' Her mentioning the magic. Putss one'ss people at rissk," he says, and silence stretches. "I wass not aware sshe had thiss. Knowledge. As well. You undersstand that ssome things are kept. Clossely guarded becausse--"

He thumps his tail at Razen's words then, and looks towards the earth, lost in thought. "There wass a noble, who came to our ssanctuary here, in your Heartlandss. In Mictlan. The keeperss are working to uncover more of. Him but one ssuspects..."

"...one hass heard rumorss through casste. Thesse rumorss match what you ssay, hunter. They alsso ssuggest mixing our kind with their. Monsstrossities though one hass not. Confirmed it perssonally. Ssome of our warriors," he says, looking to Razen, "are sharpening their bladess. But thiss one hass focused on keeping the demonss from. Esscaping into the Portal as the Dragonfather bidss me do."

Yelrona nods grimly. "Of course. I had not realized this was a People's secret, or that she was an enemy. Or a Taaran. I... wish I were more surprised," she adds, sadly. "Do your warriors need assistance?" she adds after a minute.

Razen shudders. "Everything I hear about what is happening to your people makes me understand why your warriors are sharpening their blades. Though... I have learned of late how important keeping demons bound is." He glances toward the temple of Angoron. He has been here often of late, far more often than he had ever considered he might be. Razen shakes his head again and grins at Yelrona. "Yes, or you Svarshan? I begin to think that perhaps... this is more important than sharpening blades."

"..." Svarshan lowers his muzzle. Raises it. "You are. Tricksster?" he asks.

"...ssuggest our blood iss diluted, hunter. Help sspread thosse rumors. If one were knowledgable. One would sspread rumors and sspread falsse mages' books."

"The Dragonfather hass given me blade but the. Sstrongesst weapon iss...iss one permanent in a different way. Tricksster," he says, lowering his muzzle towards Yelrona. Then, looks to Razen. "They only need directed towardss the prey. But iss...iss difficult to dissguisse sscaled as. Nonsscaled," he says with slow, warm and wry humor. Looks back to Yelrona, then Razen again. "And warriorss are blade. More than blade."

"Alsso very good at. Flexing near hot ssprings," he adds. Scaled humor. Gods save them all from its awfulness.

Yelrona nods, and grins. "THAT, I can most assuredly do," she says, thinking about how many different excuses she can find to complain loudly about the ineffectiveness of Sith blood as an alchemical reagant, playing how many different roles.

Razen clearly doesn't get the humor, but his serious expression seems to mean he is thinking heavily on what he might be able to do to help, and if Svarshan's suggestion is something which he might be able to do. "I will do what I can too. Everything and anything." He nods to Svarshan once more. "If I find anything of use I will let you know."

"One suspects you are very good. Warrior," Svarshan says with warm humor. Then, "The Hero's warriors are known in Am'sshere as the. Bravesst. And mosst determined. When war iss fought on multiple frontss they--"

Words.

Gorram it. WORDS!

He thumps his tail in frustration. "...Creative? One iss ssure you would know a better word. Warrior. And that you will grow even sstronger." He spreads his hand, palm up. The other holds the pot, balanced. And he grins at Yelrona. "If one were Charneth. One would be consserned for. Tricksster's Grin."

Yelrona's grin grows wider. One might even call it manic. "One of my earliest teachers, when I started on this path, told me that joy comes in many, many forms, and they are all beloved of Coyote, but perhaps none so much as the joy of the hunt."

From the first of Svarshan's words Razen stands a little straighter, and by the end he's grinning again. He clasps Svarshan gently on his free shoulder and laughs deeply at Yelrona's words. "We will have your people free yet Svarshan. Every day sees our side a little stronger, and I am certain that there are more yet that will aid us in our endevor."

A longer look at Yelrona's smile. One could almost hear the thought, 'One is glad she is not a gobber' hanging in the air, or 'does that smile really reach up to her eyebrows?' or, 'why is it curling on the sides?'. Except there's just quiet. Quiet thoughtfulness.

A thump of the tail, with warmth. "The Light iss blessed," he says warmly, perhaps while still wary of this idea of a gobber Trickster with gunpowder. "We will not sstand. Alone." Svarshan then gives the pottery a hoist. "Though one musst return to the temple. For more--"

A gesture at the still-smoking, melty-maggot-pile on the earth. "--Holy water."

Yelrona nods. "LOTS more holy water." She makes a note to suggest that Tarien's Temple do the same thing.

Svarshan has left.

Yelrona waves to Svarshan as he departs, then looks at Razen. "Speaking of aiding our endeavor... there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. Come with me," she says, taking the warrior's arm and heading towards the Warehouse District.