Speaker Dance
Log Info
- Title: Speaker Dance
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Gregor, Cryosanthia, Wyniko
- Place: W02: Mictlan
- Time: Tuesday, February 18, 2020, 1:56 PM
- Summary: Cryosanthia is taking dance instruction from the Speakers, as Wyniko and Gregor arrive with the products of their hunting around Mictlan. Game is scarce, so their gift is small. They are given food for their trouble. The dancers are in a heated space, to increase their flexibility and limberness. This is rough on all of them and they frequently have to exit the dance arena to cool down. Cryosanthia is affected more often, and goes so far as to lie in the snow outside Mictlan weather barrier. While Cryo is on her cool-downs, she talks with Gregor about hunting, demons, and snow snakes.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* W02: Mictlan *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.
The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Gregor 6'2" 248 Lb Hobgoblin Male A six-two Arvek with brown hair and a thick build. Cryosanthia, 6'7" 245 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos. Wyniko 4'9" 85 Lb Eaglefolk Male A short Egalrin with a male kestrel coloration. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The weather is terrible. Sleet and freezing rain fall from heavy clouds, adding ice to the thick snowdrifts which developed over the previous days. This has turned into a hard shell on the snow, thick enough to walk on, but sufficient weight or vigor will break through and drop a person to the waist, or deeper. Everything takes on a silver hue in the icy grey light, and the a raw wind cuts deep.
At least, that's how it is surrounding Mictlan. Within, the Shamans have moderated the temperature to levels comfortable for sith-makar. The ground is clear and visible, the wind howls around but does not penetrate. Light levels remain low, but overall the conditions are pleasant.
And for certain activities, they've gone a step further. The speakers have been practicing dance moves. Actual dancing, but also stretching and limbering efforts to take full advantage of their bodies flexibility. This means a localized hotter area where the dancers work out, more akin to the temperatures in the jungles of Am'shere, and very moist. Hot Yoga, if they had the concept. This loosens their bodies, and puts them dangerously close to overheating at times. So as well as being stretched, twisted and pushed, the instructors watch and occasionally tell a student to leave the area to cool down. A better solution than trusting people not to drop dead on their own.
GAME: Gregor rolls survival: (5)+8: 13 GAME: Wyniko rolls survival: (8)+8: 16
Sleet and freezing rain do not stop Gregor from his tasks, and he's out in the Wilderness, riding his horse, bow in hand, looking for anything to bring back for supper. So far, it's been slim pickings, but he's got two rabbits in a game bag hanging from his saddle. His warhorse, Traveller, stomps through the crust of the snow without too much problem, but he's glad to make it back to camp with the few bits of meat that Gregor's been able to hunt up today. He'll leave his horse with the other mounts, giving him a pat on the nose, and head on over to the cooks with his quite modest contribution. "I was trailing a deer, but it got away," he admits to the cooks.
"The deer are skittish around Mictlan", the cook replies, taking the contribution, "this one is grateful for your efforts. There is warm food ready, I will add this to the pot."
The Egalrin has no horse and takes longer to reach Mictlan. Coming through the barrier after Gregor, his catch looks to be exactly the same, two rabbit. Both are tied to the feathered man's belt and are taken to the cooks with a raised eye to the Arvek he's yet to meet. "Good catch. Weather bad." an approving nod cast as the bird seems to act as if he belongs, looking about Mictlan after dropping off his catch and adjusting his wet cloak. "Peace, and nests." he calls to any who might look his way, even the cook. His tradespeak... not so good.
Gregor hrms to the Elgarin, then shrugs. "I might've overhunted the one area, I'll check a different one next time. But yeah, the weather's pretty miserable, and everyone with sense is huddled in their burrows. Nice here, though." Gregor nods to the cook, collects a bowl of warm food for himself, and sits back to watch the dancing sith dance. He doesn't really understand much of the cultural business, but it's better than staring at his feet.
Cryo is kicked out of the dance arena more often than most. Her white dragon heritage means she is even better at retaining heat than most other sith, and comfortable at a lower body temperature. Ejected dancers usually go a short distant sit, a few go further, far enough outside of Mictlan to flop in the snow and cool down that way. Cryo is definitely one of the later, and several lizard-like snow-angles came from her. She is flopped in the snow currently.
Wyniko peers about at what the Sith-Makar are doing, noting the yoga, and looking back to the Arvec with a nod. "Balance, yes? Circles broken without care. Forest, boon if taken care of." seeming to agree, giving a bobbing nod. It's when Cryo gets kicked out that his eyes turn towards her, narrowing in their odd way as his head slants to one side. "Cryosanthia that one is. Markings do tell." speaking of her white scales, and then offering the Arvec his rough hand. "This one Wyniko, Hunter. Friend of forest?"
Gregor is outside of the hotter areas, himself. At once used to cooler climes than the sith and not bothered to take off his cold-weather clothes, it's more comfortable just to stay in the less hot areas. "Good afternoon," he calls to Cryo as he watches her making snow angels. He peers at Wyniko, but looks blank at the bit about balance and broken circles. "I know Cryosanthia," he replies. "Nice to meet you, Wyniko. I'm Gregor Augustin. I don't know about a friend of the forest, though. I just work here. I'm a cavalry scout by trade, so I help out where I can. Here and Tref, mainly."
Cryo's head pokes up from where she is lying in the snow, she looks around when she hears her name. She takes a handful of snow and places it on her head. She waves, but stays where she is for the moment.
Wyniko watches as his hand is ignored, taking it back. "Spoke for one's self. Not for Gregor Augustin." noting some distinction, but not taking offense. "White scales draw eyes. Different." he notes, looking away and offering a shrug. "Like white rabbit in burrow of brown." stepping away from the man and smirking as he just seems to take in Mictlan. "Place of strength. Place of mighty. Soldier could learn much here."
Gregor wasn't actually ignoring the hand, just that his hands were full with his meal and he wasn't quite paying attention to the Elgarin, with the sith ritual going on. "Ah, sorry," he says, and he'll put down his bowl, wipe his hands clean on a rag, then offer his hand, now clean and slightly presentable. As far as the strength and power, he says, "Well, you'll learn -something- here. But not envelopment tactics or how to break a shieldwall. Not formally, anyhow."
The white-scaled sith, who is looking rather silvery in the current light, climbs out of her snowbank. She packs together a large snowball which she uses as a hat, and carries a second against her chest. She walks over to the pair, "Peace on your nests."
"Good to see you again Gregor, and Wyniko."
Wyniko smirks as he takes that hand as it's offered, leaning to give it a shake. "Formal you are." the Egalrin seeming to preen that he was met with a shake. "Apologies. Interrupted soup." knowing what he did it seem, and letting the man resume his meal.
"Peace, and nests." Weeny notes in responses to Cryosanthia, his picking on Gregor seeming to cease, though he regards the Arvec with a smile. "Might. Learned from all things, even Lucht." he says with a passive tone, his gaze fixating more on the Sith-Makar. "Hot head?" his puffy-cheeked smile showing as he's amused with himself, and her snow.
Gregor replies to Cryosanthia, "Peace to you also. It's good to see you. You all doing some kind of ritual?" he presumes, eying the snow with some puzzlement. He can only offer a shrug to Wyniko about being formal. He -is- Arvek, and a soldier besides. Shaking hands, then returning to his meal, he watches the exchange between Elgarin and Sith with a clueless expression. Cryosanthia grins, breathing heavily as she holds an armful of snow, and her snow-hat slowly melts. She pants, "Dancing. Stretching. Speaker training. It's hot there to make it easier but I don't cool down well. So snow. Heh."
Wyniko nods, giving the Sith-Makar a strange glance, and pointing to the cook. "Many rabbits. Gregor bring too. Eat food. Rest. Will visit again." something seeming to draw the Egalrin away, moving to leave, but pausing to speak to Gregor before he takes leave. "Would like... discussion of tactics someday." noting this and then continuing to take his leave. "Peace, and nests. This one must go!"
Gregor watches the Elgarin go with a puzzled expression, and he asks, "You know him? Or her? I can't really tell, I guess?" He shrugs. "I just met him and what he said is just confusing." As far as dancing being hot work, he says, "I can imagine. It'd be too hot for me, too, I think. Particularly with my coat and everything on."
"Yes. I've met him. His tradespeak is a little broken. The dancing is very hot." Cryo is still panting a little, even going to far as to eat some of her snow, which otherwise is melting rapidly in the heat. She's wearing a relatively simple skirt, wrapped around and tied above her tail. Her tattoos are quite visible without her typical armour on. "It's a bit like fighting, worse in some ways."
Gregor nods about the broken tradespeak and about the dancing being hot. "I can see that, it was very energetic, and it's quite warm over there." He smirks about fighting, and says, "Yes, fighting is over quickly, if you can help it. The longer a fight drags out, the better chance that you get skewered."
"Ha! I'm still working on the last part" Cryo arches and moves her snowball, showing off a patch with out scales across her midsection. "Demon. Big one. Bled blood fire and read minds."
Gregor winces about the demon and the patch without scales. "Ouch, that sounds bad. Never faced a demon, just regular enemies, I guess. Trolls, that sort of thing. They're pretty rough, too, but not as cool as demons, I guess."
Cryosanthia nods, "I'm running into rather a lot of them. I've never fought a troll. The scales will come back, soon-ish, I've been bugging our Shamans and they said they would help. There is a cool demon, an actual Ice Demon called Yukia. She's in the mountains, freezes people. I don't know if you go that far. Demons read minds too, so you need to be careful about that. I think if you think of their names, they know about you. So... um.. sorry for mentioning a name."
Gregor shrugs about the demon thing. "If it attacks, I'll fight it. Or if the Guild sends me after it. Past that, I don't think too much about fights I'm not involved in. He points over to his lance, though. The metal lance-tip is adamantium. "If that won't go through it, though, then probably nothing will."
"That is a neat lance. Oh! You must have one of the horses I see around. I've seen so much since I arrived, the Adventurer's Guild was very helpful. Thanks for telling me about it." Cryo's ice has mostly finished melting. She flicks away the droplets. "I've got a rapier, it works pretty nicely."
Gregor smiles about the lance. And about the horses. "Traveller!" he shouts out, and one of the horses looks up over at us, then, when there's nothing more, goes back to what it was doing. "No problem," he says about the Guild, "I'm glad it's working out for you."
"I need to learn how to ride those, or lizards, or something. I've been sitting in carts and it hasn't worked well. After I get better at dancing!" Cryo grins. "Thanks also for bringing in the food, it smells delicious. I'd eat, but that wouldn't help on the floor. I should head back, I think I'm cool enough now, again. Not feeling dizzy anymore."
Gregor nods about the riding. "Swiftclaws are traditional, and much better suited than horses to your homeland. Traveller is not happy there. Though he perserveres." He nods about the food. "Hunting was poor, but I brought a bit."
Cryosanthia laughs, raising her eye ridges, "I'll learn how to ride a swiftclaw one day. Peace on your nest, I'm going back to the dance."
The palescale turns and runs off to the dance arena. It's possible to see the exact moment she crosses the barrier, as the increase in heat makes her stop. Shaking her arms she bows to the instructor, strides over to a place in line, and throws herself into the calesthenics and motions. Two other dances, regular coloured sith, are pushed out to cool down but don't go as far as leaping in a snowbank. Instead they walk and breathe, and continue to watch the practice.
Gregor finishes his own meal, brings the bowl back to the cooks, and will head into one of the longhouses, where he can take a nap.
The dancing is not a routine. At this stage it is body practice, seeing how far one can kick, bend, twist, stretch. Balancing on toes, using the tail as both a counterbalance, a support, and for some moves a rail to help the body roll. Other things, such as a complete body rotation while the head remains fixed, only for it to whip around at the last moment, are also done. One way, then the other. The two dancers who left to cool down, return. Cryo is told to rest again, and another sith goes with her. A green-scale, with some yellow and orange. The pair collapse backwards into the snow, which hisses even as they do the same, relaxing and gasping.
"Rough," says the green-scale. "Yes," says the white-scale. Both are brushing snow over themselves, although the white-one is moving a lot more of it. The two remain sprawled, sinking slowly as their overheated bodies melt the snow. <draconic> A few more minutes pass. The green-scale sits forward. The wind is raw here, stealing heat. Essentially naked except for the dancing skirt, she's moved from cool-down to cold. "I'm going back Cryo, don't stay too long." <draconic>
"The cold does not bother me." The white one laughs, spreading her arms and legs, wriggling them under the drift. <draconic> "This one knows! It makes you look lazy." The green-scale waggles her hips as she walks away, tailtip pointing in an accusatorial fashion. <draconic>
Cryo thumps her head back into the snowbank. She wipes her arms, legs and tail, making a sith snow-angel as a way to cool herself faster. Finally she is completely covered in a second layer of white, and satisfied with her body temperature rolls forward and walks back. A slight stagger as she enters the warmth of Mictlan, a much stronger one as she returns, dripping, to the dance arena. She takes her place again, soon writhing and whipping like the other sith-makar.
The practice moves on from testing the limits of their bodies to some coordinated movements. All line up, raise tails, spin like ballerinas then slink into a low dive to one side, then curling up and through to the otherside. The crew splits, half are drumming, the other half continue to gyrate and leap in synch. On a strong beat, they switch, dancers pulling to the sides, drummers entering the centre. A high paced, synchronized choreography. It's rough, some are slow, some off angle, some move out of position. The drumming likewise, has some reverberations as the tails fail to strike at exactly the same time. The instructors watch, direct the movements, pull some of the dancers and tell them to rest.
Gregor leaves the tent, having caught a catnap. He's used to that, from his time in the Blar army: Sometimes a couple hours is all the sleep you can get. You get what rest you can. But there's still snow, and nothing urgent seems to have come up, so he'll get a cup of hot soup and watch the proceedngs.
One of the instructors says, "Cryosanthia, out", and waves a stick at the white-scaled sith makar. A little bewildered, she takes a few steps from the formation, still trying to move with it. "You're too hot, out!" Comes the command again, and one of the other dancers gives her a shove away from the group. <draconic>
Several steps later, she's out of the dance area, walking randomly along a slow sinusoidal path.
Gregor can't really follow the dancing, nor the comments. He drinks his hot brew and watches curiously, though.
Cryosanthia walks a random path, taking irratic steps. She shakes a hand several times, eventually the tattoos on her arms glow briefly, and a shard of ice, an icicle dagger, appears in her hand. She presses the flat of the blade against her forehead and holds it there, eyes closed. A moment later her focus comes back. She finds herself near Gregor, still holding the dagger to her head. "Oh, hello."
Gregor smiles. "Hello again. Another break from dancing?" he wonders as he finishes his hot drink. "I had a bit of a nap, myself. I thought there was going to be more to do for the hunters, but it looks like not." He eyes the snow. "Seems that not much is abroad in this."
Cryo shakes her head, still holding the dagger to it. "No, beyond the camp barrier the wind is strong. It's unpleasant, a cold and wet I don't like. strong enough I think I'd get frostbite if I stayed out long enough." Her icicle dagger vanishes. She recasts her spell more efficiently this time, and it re-appears. She holds it along the back of her neck.
"I think I over did it this time. Just, gonna sit." She drops, sitting, tail out, legs angled in to keep her up. She holds her knees and rolls her head a bit. "Do they leave tracks, or go under the snow? The things you hunt. Seen any big tracks?"
Gregor ehs, says, "It's both, really. Rabbits mostly go under the snow, and they're light enough the tracks they leave are filled in a handful of minutes later by the snowfall. Deer go on top. And they leave deeper tracks. But there aren't as many of them, and they don't much like the snow, either, so there's not many around to find."
The white sith-makar nods, then leans her head back and opens her mouth skyward and slowly pants. Her icicle dagger vanishes again, and she invokes it a third time, holding it against the front of her throat and partway down her chest. She sighs heavily, looking forward again. "I have to ask. Everytime I ask the others, they say, 'Of course they're real Cryo, you exist'. So I want to know, are they real, Snow Snakes? And they slither along leaving tracks too?"
GAME: Gregor rolls profession/guide: (4)+6: 10
Gregor looks baffled at the mention of snow snakes, and admits, "I've never heard of them, myself. But there's a lot I don't know, so don't take my word as gospel. There's a few trustworthy people to ask, I guess. Mikilos is one. I've heard good things about him. A couple others."
Cryosanthia nods, "Okay. I will ask. I keep seeing their tracks, but I've never seen one. I was curious. Also what they would do in the summer, it does not make sense that they would change skin every other season."
Gregor can only shrug to that. "I'm more concerned with more mundane affairs and less on the private lives of tiny animals. The Sith Druids here would be better able to answer that than I would."
Cryo nods, leaning back, inverting her head and watching the dancers upside down for a little bit. One of her feet keeps tapping along with the beat. "I'll speak with them. I have, a couple. Sometimes the sound a funny, and I wonder if they're joking. I don't know if Shamans joke, if they're allowed to joke."
Gregor is, as you may be starting to notice, not up to speed on Sith society. "Svarshan's probably the closest Alexandria gets to an Elder Statesman type person for the Sith. If he doesn't know it, I don't think anyone would. However, getting words out of him is challenging, I've heard."
"Really? I've never had any trouble." Cryosanthia says with genuine surprise. "Sometimes he wants me to elaborate on things for him, and I just know. Warriors and Hunters, I've found, have a lot of knowledge that's hard to put into words, instincts or muscle memory kinds of stuff. And he can be very verbose when he wants, he recited a whole soliquay the other day!"
Gregor hrms. "Perhaps it's a Sith thing, then? I heard it from non-sith, so...." He shrugs. "Clearly, my information is bad, so please disregard it. But then, I can't tell you much about the Sith community here in Alexandria. I'm somewhat new, myself." Cryosanthia leans forward, crossing her arms on her knees, "What brought you to Alexandria?"
Gregor says, "Well, it's supposed to be a city of opportunity. And the wars were winding down in Blar, it looked like a long peace was coming up on us. So, as a soldier, there'd be a lot of nothing to do, and nothing to gain. So I came here, and indeed, I've done a fair amount of stuff. Fought trolls, bought an adamantine lance. Done pretty well, by and large.""
"Did I ask, how to fight trolls? I think I asked. I can't remember." Cryosanthia says, rubbing at her head. "I think I'm still too hot. I need to get some snow. Want some?"
She stands, a little wobbly on her feet.
Gregor will stand and walk with you, though he says, "I'm good, temperature-wise. As for how to fight trolls, fires the big thing. They can't regenerate if you hurt them with fire. Or acid. We had flasks, so when we cut them down, we poured acid on the bodies so they wouldn't regenerate.
"Acid. Fire. Trolls. Okay. A couple of the sith here can spit acid. I don't think... I would enjoy that." Cryosanthia says, walking slowly. Her footfalls are heavy and her tail drags. She looks tired. When she gets to a snowbank she doesn't so much lie down it, as fall into a dive and bellyflop like she's going into a lake. She disappears under the snow with a 'whhmmf' leaving a sith-shaped impression with a tail sticking out. She mumbles under the snow, "Oh this is much better."
Gregor will leave you to your snow-faceplanting. It's obviously a sith thing. "Yeah, I wouldn't enjoy it, either, but alchemists will sell you fire or acid in a vial at a good price, generally."
"I sell ice cubes. Or at lest, I think I could sell ice cubes when it isn't free to cut them out of the river. Except I make them, not throw them up. I should get one of those." Cryo keeps talking through the snow, which dampens her voice. There's a strong exhale which makes a small eruption of snow, presumably somewhere near her mouth. Then she rolls over, makinga section of packed snow, where she lies spread and staring upwards, flexing her ankles and toes. "I should get a couple vials of those, in case, they sound useful."
Gregor nods about them being useful. "I have a vial in my pack right now, for emergencies. If I know I'm going against trolls, I'll syock up."
Cryosanthia suddenly sits straight up from the snow like a spring. She blinks a few times, looking around. "I've been rambling, haven't I? It's so hard to think when I'm overheated. Must remember, stop dancing when can't think."
Gregor huhs? "Rambling? Not as such. You've been making as muck sense as any of the druids here make." Which is damning with faint praise, comng from Gregor.
"Oh... that's... good, I think. The Lore-Keepers can get a bit dense with their concepts." Cryosanthia says, standing up and wiping away the snow that clings to her. She seems to be moving smoothly and with better focus again. She's mostly clear on her front, her back and the backs of her legs have a snowy-slushy coating to them. She gestures at the dance area where a few of the others are still going, "Do you like that at all? Would something make it better?"
Gregor peers at the dancing, shrugs. "We have our own styles of dancing in Blar. It's not a lot like that, but that's not bad. A bit strange to my eyes but I couldn't think of how to improve it. You've got to be you."
"Well we do have a lot of traditions. It would help to get the fundamentals before I explore other cultures' ideas." Cryo muses, wiping at the sides of her legs. "I should go ask the instructors if they have any comments, it looks like we're getting ready to break for today. They might have some things they want me to practice. It's been very nice talking to you again."
Gregor bows his head. "Okay, take it easy. I'm gonna go back to the city, then. I'll see you around." He whistles for his horse, and it looks like it was standing with all the other horses but not actually tied to the horselines. So it can just back up and walk on over. Gregor grabs his lance, mounts up, and takes off back for Alexandria.
Cryosanthia watches the horse come over and the hobgoblin mount up, waves as he departs, then turns and heads back to the dance area. She gets a little more enthusiastic in her step as she gets closer and starts asking, "How did I do today? Any thing I should work on? What did you..."
The sith gets what instruction she can as the hobgoblins rides off. Life goes on in Mictlan.
