Rocky Returns

Log Info

• Title: Rocky Returns
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn, Rocky
• Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
• Time: Sunday, May 17, 2020, 9:09 PM
• Summary: While Zeke is off on a hunting trip with his kin, Cryosanthia is taking advantage of the ressurection reward for defeating the Queen of Endless Winter. Faranmidahn is along to provide her sister with support. Cryo has the scales of the hunting party that perished in Charnath, and looks through them deciding who to bring back. Once again, faced with being unable to save them all. She selects a grey scale from a warrior who died not long after their capture. The Sunguard of Daeus arrives, performs the ceremony, and River Stone aka 'Rocky' is restored to his full quarter ton self. Rocky is glad to be alive again, and stunned by the changes in Cryosanthia. She does her best to catch him up on three years of history. Alexandria, the City of Mists, has returned, he's in it and there is a treaty recognizing the clans of Am'shere as a nation. Many sith-makar live near this softskin city in a place called Mictlan. Also, that she has a cihuaa who is suffering from his time with the Fae Queen. She will help him as best she can, but must devote her time to Zeke and hopes that Big Brother will stand on his feet quickly and have her back.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple of Daeus *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The temple of the Sun Lord glitters golden beneath the same. Rather than walls, the majority of the temple is composed of what appears at first blush to be a raised round platform made of one of the largest slabs of marble likely in existence. Columns rise into the air as if to hold some massive ceiling, though instead of a normal ceiling, one finds the deep blue sky, studded by a disconcertingly close canopy of bright stars. One should not worry, however, as the rain never falls, and the wind never blows on this particular temple, but for a gentle breeze, whatever the weather outside may be.

Despite the austerity of the columns, warmth suffuses the grounds. A grand, marble statue of the Shining Knight stands a the center, a hand outstretched in benediction. Beside Him, the statue of Althea, their hands clasped in love. The central position of the temple to the others gives view to all of their children, and the two look upon one another with the solemnity of love that has been the center of so many tales and legends.

Masterfully designed mana lamps provide further soft, golden lightning where needed, their pedestals carved in the form of the Dragons of Light, over which Daeus is said to have dominion in His form of Draco Solis. Majesty, justice, and welcome suffuse the temple grounds. Around the central temple are a series of smaller buildings, each with a simple function and form. One houses the sacred book depicting some of the earliest known translations of the Laws of Light, which pilgrims from near and far come to visit. Another houses the well-appointed quarters of the Sunguards, and among all the ground bristle the Sunblades.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     267 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider
Rocky        6'8"     460 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

In the temple complex dedicated to Daeus, there are many smaller buildings dedicated to single functions. One, off to the side but still within view of the grand marble statue of the Shining Knight, is dedicated to returning the dead to life. Outside it is similar to the others, inside the decore is strange due to its combined function as a funerary and healing place. It is both sombre and well lit. A large bed-like altar, or altar-like bed dominates the room. There are storage closets for varied decorations, meant to match the forms most important to the worshipper. The sith-makar representations of the diety's form as Dracos Solis have been set out. The Dragonfather, as well as symbols representing the Silver Empress and Am'shere. A chair, robe, and facilities for the recently returned are waiting to the side.

Cryosanthia is also waiting, watching the doorway and holding the bag around her neck. She rolls the bag between her fingers, listening to the scales grind against themselves. Something she's done as a worried and contemplative habit for years. The Temple of Daeus offered a free resurection as a reward for her assistance in slaying Salina. She never thought she'd achieve this, an opportunity to bring back one of her older, lost friends from her first mission. Just one, and now she must choose. She undoes the drawstring, spreading the scales out across her hand, looking over their colours. Each one a friend, each one a name. The priest or priestess will be arriving soon. It's time to choose.

Another seeking the power of resurrection, though sadly bereft of remnants from which to work, arrives on request of her sister. She is once more clad in her formal black silk dress, the Purple Rose clasp affixing her cloak in place, hood drawn up over her features as she idly strokes the fuzzy little coconut upuff in her palms. Once properly directed, she makes her way to the chamber and, on sight of Cryosanthia, offers a sad smile and a respectfully quiet, "Hello, Cryo. How.... how are things...?"

"They're... improving. One hopes. Seldan has taken Zeke hunting. Acedia made a breakthrough. They have not returned yet. I'm sorry about your mother, and Kira. I hope to get to that. There is so much." The whitescale sith looks somewhat rested, but still moves with a certain tiredness of stress. She lays the scales in her hand out on the cloth covering the bed altar. She stares at the line of them.

"I hope this works. Which one to save. Not all of these were after death..." She draws her finger along to help her focus, touching each one and thinking of the sith-makar it represented. Her finger stops on a grey scale. A small grey scale that on closer inspection has speckles of green, white and black. It resembles granite, looks like a flat pebble on the huge bed-altar. "River Stone", she whispers in Draconic, then repeats, "Rocky. He liked his tradespeak nickname."

"He was good and strong. He never made it to Charnath. He fought with the slavers from his cage and they tired of it and killed him. Necacoehua bit him after, pretended to try and eat him to tear off a strip of skin. He secreted the scales to us. It should be him, he suffered the least, will come back strong, not terrorized."

Faranmidahn shakes her head slightly, "That is..." she sighs, "I don't know...." There's a pause and she steps closer as Cryo begins to explain herself, her choices, and the Lucht reaches out to embrace the sith as the coconut puff, in fact a spider, crawls up to her shoulder. "Cryosanthia... you've born this alone for so long..." Faran's burden is more recent, "I would not question your choice in this. That you loved them enough to hold on for so long, can still think of this after everything you've gone through... I'm.... proud."

Cryosanthia picks up the other scales, places them in her drawstring bag. She has a distant, unfocused expression, staring at nothing at all. Her hand squeezes them, hearing the quiet grinding. She whispers, "I promise, I'll get the rest of you. When I can trust myself to reach someone broken. When I'm not falling apart too. I need..." Her voice trails off.

The small grey scale sits alone on the large plateau. Cryo shifts it to the middle, where it seems even smaller. She forces a hopeful smile, looks down at her lucht sister, "I'm so glad you're here. I have to try. To undo... to hope that it's not always failure, that there's a chance. Rocky will help me with the others. You'll like him, I'm sure." She smiles at memories, inhales, exhales a long sigh, grins, "Well, fingers crossed, kink your tail."

The lucht leans in, hugging her more tightly, "I... I'd like that, too." Faran looks to the little scale, so little left of this 'Rocky', but enough.... More... so much more than she has of <Father...> a whisper in the halfling tongue, a foreign word to some ears, but the tone is easy enough to read. She closes her eyes and quirks the corners of her mouth a little, "Get me a tail, first." she tries.

"I'll find you a potion to grow you one." Cryo winks, swishing her tail behind her. A nearby sound makes her straighten up.

There's motion at the doorway and a Priest of Daeus walks in, resplendant in white and gold robes. A human, but with a draconic mitre as suits the occasion and a golden staff. He makes a bow, spreading his arms wide. He's a stout fellow with a round face and a greying beard. "Be blessed and walk in his golden light. Cryosanthia? And family?" He looks down at Faran, but doesn't remark further. Turns to the bed-altar and takes out small golden notebook. He reads, commits details to memory, then starts his incantation.

"Dragonfather and the Death Singing Dragon, River Stone was taken too early and his family requests you return him from your care and choir. His sword and song are needed. Cryosanthia, clutch-sister, calls for him if he is willing, to return and walk in the light." He gestures with his staff and hand, tracing glowing lines and sigils in the air, the symbols of Daeus, then he taps the scale and steps back. He says quietly, "If he is willing he will return."

The scale ripples and spreads, like water spreading across a rock, though the rocky like scales blend slightly with the stone altar. Nearly covering the altar surface, the pool of scales starts to inflate, blowing up like a baloon, quickly forming definition and features; body, tail, limbs, head, the body of a young sith hatchling. The body ages rapidly, growing and firming, muscles hardening as skin thickens and tightens, making for a natural armor. In moments, a massive sith-makar lays on the altar, young, barely an adult, but massive in size. Not tall (certainly not laying down) but thick and broad. For a moment, the body lays still, a corpse, young, fallen too early. And then, a breath, slow an deep, the air of life filling fresh lungs once again.

The priest immediately follows up with a second spell, a waving of hand and staff, "Cleanse the pall of the other side, restore him to fullness of life." A warm glow envelopes the greyscaled sith-makar.

Faran, turns her head slowly toward Cryo as she whispers, "They make those?" then straightens as the priest enters and she forces a smile, "Thank you, Sunguard, for doing this." she says softly. Whether she notices, or cares of the registration of dissonance in the fellow's face, she makes no sign. The invocation, seems to drag her down some as she wonders what she could have done differently in the tower, then her eyes widen as the scale begins to regain the fullness of it's former being.

Cryosanthia stares with utter fascination, watching Rocky reform. Not only as she last remembered him, but through all stages of his life. The stages of her life as well. He was known to her, as hatchling, nestling, youngling through to young adult. It pulls to the forefront memories long buried for her under the weight of years. She is so unexpectedly giddy she claps rapidly as if it was a performance and this is the finale. She is bouncing on her feet as if she was eighteen, odd behaviour for a sith-makar in her second century.

"Thank you, thank you!" She tells the Sunguard, bowing to him. "Yes they do." She tells Faranmidahn, sounding very confident, though her attention is on the bed-altar. Carefully she asks, "Rocky? Are you awake?"

Rocky takes another slow breath, and stretches, as if waking up form a perfectly normal nap. A pause, as unfamiliarity sinks in, and yellow eyes open, peering around the room. Not scared, or even particularly anxious, but alert, a touch wary. What little tension is present eases as he spys a fellow sith, loooking to the otehr present before turning his focus to the White Scale. "This one is River Stone, of Warrior Caste." he offers, lowering his muzzle politely. <draconic>

Faran cants her head a little bit as she's not sure how... disoriented Cryo's friend will be after so long absent, she decides treating him like a skittish pony would be the best course, until she sees more out of him: small, slow movements.

'He seems fully restored. I'll leave you to your reunion. Facilities and clothes are there.' The Sunguard gestures, then bows, backing out and managing a heavily accented "Peace on your Nest," as he leaves.

"This one is Cryosanthia, Speaker-Caste. Remember me River Stone?" The whitescale woman says. She's quite unlike what his memory of her would be, with century horns and some rather elegant robes. Similarities in her face, of course, though much older. 'Can you switch to Tradespeak Rocky? This is my sister, Faranmidahn.' <draconic>

Rocky goes still for a moment, then blinks, moving foreward towards the White Scale, low and non-threatening, but rather quick for one not having seen a quarter ton of lizard comming at you. The greyscale stops short, and peers, taking a slow, deep breath of her scent. "....Little Sister? ...how long did this This One sit by the Stream of Waiting?"

Faran again, despite Cryo's presence, tries to keep relatively still as the risen Sith gets his bearings. She slowly lifts a hand to wave with a quiet, "Hello, River Stone, it's nice to meet you. Welcome-" she chokes on the next word, unable to say 'back', as it hits a little close to home, but manages to quickly chime in, "to Alexandria."

"Yesss!" Cryosanthia grins, happy scents wafting off her. She throws her arms around the granite sith male. She is large for a sith but still seems small in comparison to him, much leaner and taller. "Big brother!"

The whitescale pulls back, but keeps her hands on his shoulders, staring into his yellow eyes with her blue ones, "Not long. Three yearsss and sssome. Remember Alexandria? The human city that vanisshed? It came back. Like Faran sssaysss, you're in Alexandria! Thisss one met a Fae Queen, isss why I'm older." Her youthful speaking habits return, Cryo sounds even younger than Faran recalls of their first meeting. Very energetic too, her tail is going all over the place.

Rocky hesitates a moment, then returns the hug, peering about the room with casual curiousity. "The Sssity of Missst? It wassss... wessst, yesss? Wessst of ssslaver landsss." Geography isn't his strong point. He considers a moment. "Fae. Pixie? Kissss of nymph makes young...old isss... ghossst? Dead fae?"

There's a moment or two of thought before the tiny albino wonders, "Cryo, should I give you two a couple of minutes to... reorient?" She forces a smile, though to those familiar with mammal faces, their scents, beneath it she is still deeply hurt, "I can fetch Mister River Stone some food!"

"Yesss, wessst of our landsss." Cryo bobs her head, then struggles to think of a good comparison, "Fae like before Sssildanyari. A Queen. Ssshe kept thisss one in her Tower. Made thisss one more Winter-y. Ssshe isss dead now."

At the little luchts request, Cryosanthia turns and scoops her up in a tight, cold embrace. One that also gets her scent all over her. "Yes Faran. Thank you. For being. For seeing. There's hope, for your father, there's hope." To the other sith, "Ssshe little sssissster to thisss one now, little-er sssisster to you too. Ssshe isss amazing." Cryo sets Faran down.

The whitescale gently places her hand on Rocky's shoulder, "The ssslaverss took usss to Charnath. It wasss much worsse. Ssome othersss died on the way. The rest, punissshed. Separated. Tortured. Sssome died with thisss one. This one essscaped. The othersss, thisss one doesss not know."

Rocky dips his muzzle to the as far as he knows perfectly normal lutch. "Faran. Thisss one thanksss you for watching over Little Sssister. Thisss one isss grateful." Looking to Cryosanthia, he falls still again, not moving for several seconds. "All gone? Isss jussst we two clutch-matesss in Sssity of Missst?"

Faranmidahn returns the hug fervently and gently places her lips against the pale scales before she is set down, "Always, Cryo." she says gently, then turns to look up at Rocky. She smiles to him and reaches a hand up in offer of comradeship, "It was mutual, but you are quite welcome, Rocky. Would you like some nice beef, or maybe some fish?"

"Our clutch-matesss, gone. Yesss," Cryo lowers her head sadly, closing her hand around the pouch on her neck, "Their ssscaless, ssstill here. Ssstill hope. But not alone. No. There isss a treaty now, all Am'sshere clansss a nation now! And in the woodsss near here, Mictlan! Sssith-Makar sssettlement. All casstes, large. Blesssed by the Sssilver Empressss. Hatchlingss! They are hatching now! Sssafer than Am'ssshere. Many Sssith! Therre and in City."

Rocky eyes the pouch a moment, and nods. "Waiting, by the Sstream, for the time to return." The warrior closes his eyes for a moment. "It wasss... peaceful." He looks to Faran again, considering. "Thisss One would like beef, pleassse."

A smile, still tinged with her own hurts, and Faran nods, "I'm on it." she says simply, then reaches out to gently touch Cryo's side, "Want anything?"

The lucht's question and touch brings Cryosanthia back to the now. She looks around as if expecting to see someone. She's been avoiding eating in front of Zeke and that's turned into avoiding eating most of the time. "This one is fine with anything, beef, fisssh, chicken. Thank you." She brushes at Faran's back.

The whitescale exhales carefully, looking at Rocky, "Thisss one isss glad the waiting wasss peaceful. Thisss one... wasss not sssure. Charnath wasss a horrorr. The othersss... thisss one killed her owner, took back the ssstolen power. It isss the only way I moved passst. It will be harder for the othersss..." She almost says 'if', then decides no, keep the hope. For her, for Rocky, for Faran. No more ifs, "...when they come back."

Rocky nods slowly. "Charnath... Thisss One isss glad you are not there." Taking a step back, he takes a look around the room. "Thiss iss ssoftssskin hall to the DragonFather?"

The lucht nods, "I'll be back soon with that." The brush at her back brings her up short for a moment and she looks up at Cryo, then to Rocky as she explains, as much to her as to him and she nods. She brings up another smile, despite, and turns to get see to getting her friends fed.

Cryosanthia nods, "Yesss. There isss a Temple complex outssside. Many Sssunguards and Sssunbladess as they call them, are sssith and here. They have the Dragonsss of Light asss ssstatuess." She gets a silly sort of grin, gestures towards the robe, the changing screen, "Clothesss are expected. Sssoftskinsss everywhere. It isss not Am'ssshere. It getsss cold here! There isss snow!"

She smiles, watching Faran exit out the door, and then her smile fades and she smells of sadness. Looking back at Rocky, her visage is so strange. One of a much older woman who still has hints of the girl he grew up with, and signs of inner pain he never saw on her before. "Thisss one will help you, ssshow you around, to Mictlan. Will give coin. Thisss one can not help asss much asss thisss one wisshess. Thisss one'sss cihuaa isss ill. Thisss one attendsss him. Thisss one needsss big brother to be ssstrong, thiss one isss carrying ssso much."

Rocky nods. "Little Ssister, Thisss One will help. Isss much not undersstood, much isss new. Different. But family is alwayssss." He nods to the departing Faran, then blinks, going still a moment before turning back to Cryo. "....'cihuaa'?!"

"Yesss, thisss one hasss. He isss wonderful, patient, sssmart and ssstrong. The Fae Queen broke him with illusssions. He doesss not trrusst what he ssseesss. Hisss sssoftssskin kin, Ssseldan, takess him hunting now. Hopesss it will fix hisss mind. They will be back sssoon." Cryosanthia says, staring at Rocky, then looking away out the door Faranmidahn left through.

"Faran, her mother wasss maimed, her father killed by thisss Fae Queen. She hidesss so much hurt asss well. Thisss one hasss been ssstrong for her. There isss much falling apartsss."

The whitescale hugs the granitescale again, holding him tightly, making a short warble of despair that turns into something more positive. Not quite a happy whoop, but close, "Thisss one isss glad you are no longer waiting. Thisss one needsss a River Ssstone at her back! Family isss alwaysss."

Rocky rumbles softly, but nods. "...cihuaa." Some boy thinks he's good enough for Little Sister? ...well, we'll see. "I am a warrior, better suited for battle than helping those injured. But so long as you will have me, I will stay close. You spoke of a nearby settlement? Mic-land?" <draconic>

"Mictlan. Yes. Nearby. Two hours by Swiftraptor. Longer walking, a half day. Guarded by great dragon bones!" Cryo grins, reading the protective instincts in Rocky's body language. "He is. When he is hale, you will see. This one can get you a room, inn nearby. You should see Alexandria yourself. This one will find time, get you to Mictlan soon. It is near time this one's cihuaa returns. Too many people frighten him right now. This one will have you meet him when he knows where he is. He is coming back, his mind, it takes time. This one is not the skilled healer either." <draconic>

Rocky nods. "Mictland. I can wait, there is no rush." He considers. "Three years you said? What of home? Have you received word of those we left in the village, what bcame of them?" <draconic>

Cryosanthia nods, exhaling. Her breath forms a visible cloud of mist. This is a new thing, as is the cool aura she now seems to have. Mixed in with her white scales are pale, glacial blue ones that form patterns and markings she didn't have when she was younger. It makes her look a little more draconic, "Our village remains, moved further in from the border. They know what happened. This one spoke, to Castes, to Nest-Mothers and Sires. Explained and apologized to each. We grieved. You should send a message. This one would not burn the scales. It kept you Waiting at the Stream, but this one had to hope she could undo her mistake." <draconic>

• WHUMP!* Rocky slams his tail against the ground. "Mistake? What mistake? Go go as the Shamen directed? To act as Speaker? You ddi as you were supposed to do. The end was unfortunate, yes, painful, yes. But not a mistake." <draconic>

Cryosanthia jumps a little as Rocky thumps his tail, then she smiles and shakes her head, "You are right. The lens of time recolours events. It has been many years for this one. Memories simplify, become a single thought. We were inexperienced. Surprised by superior force. That was no fault of ours."

The whitescale pats at the granitescale's shoulder, "You should dress. This one must check if her cihuaa has returned. This one can show you the temple before that." <draconic>

Rocky nods. "I would like to look around, thank you. Hearing where I've come to is one thing, but it won't really sink until until I can see it with my own eyes." <draconic>

The whitescale grins, stepping back with her eyes sparkling, tail swaying, "You will love it when you step outside. The Temple is amazing." Her head nods in the direction of the robe, and the changing screen, "Clothes are there."

She moves over to the doorway, stands in the light shining through, "Close your eyes. This one will lead you out, then open them. It is the best surprise." <draconic>

And next to waking up from the dead, it was.

Rocky
'A large grey rock in armor' tends to be most first impressions of this sith-makar, though a closer look finds his scales are actually a mix of white and black, with a few splotches of green, a look not unlike a granite rock covered with bits of moss. Taller than the average human, he's massively stout, built thick and heavy, not unlike the boulder he resembles. His scales are marked with numerous scars, many small, some quite large and deep, speaking of numerous battles in his past, some perhaps ending quite poorly.

Rocky is almost always armed and armored, heavy plates of metal protecting his major organs, with layers of leather filling the gaps between. A kilt of smaller, flexable plates trails down over his legs, offering protction without hindering movement. He carries a solid wooden shield, and a simple set of weapons, favoring a plain longsword worn on his hip. Several smaller bags and pouches hang from his outfit.

He tends towards stillness, sitting quietly, moving only when there is need.