Telamon Comes to Town

Log Info

• Title: Telamon Comes to Town
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Telamon, Un'eth
• Place: Southern Bridge over Tornmawr
• Time: October 10th, 2021
• Summary: Telamon, a new face to town, comes into the city late after misreading a map. He encounters Aryia and Un'eth while his donkey Raspberry complains about the long trek. Aryia and Un'eth give the man some pointers on where to go, what places are good, which are bad, Un'eth dives off the bridge and Aryia just shrugs. Telamon goes to find a place to rest his head.

Southern Bridge over Tornmawr, Late afternoon.

A chilly wind blows from the west, driving dark clouds before it and blotting out the sun in patches overhead on this morning day. Traffic across the bridge this day is scattered, the setting light doing its best to cut through the low hanging, sparse fog that the cold brings.

Upon the bridge, off to the side near the railing is a figure in a heavy grey cloak, them holding out a book to a Khazad man. He harrumphs, and crosses his arms. "Aye. Know the lot. Whadda 'bout 'em?"

The book receedes, and a slinged arm akwardly holds the tome as pen flicks across the pages before returning to its presentation towards the man. He reads, stroking his short fiery beard.

"Ya sure? Well, no skin of m'back. Ri' so, they been running back ta 'by'ssa. Lot of 'em ain't been doin' so hot. Lookin' for someone missin' or somethin' like that. Tryin' ta track 'em down," he recounts, looking over his shoulder. They give a sigh, then pat the short figure on the shoudler. "Watch ya'self out there."

The Khazad gives a dip of his head and heads off, leaving the woman alone as she shuts her book. Her scarred face peeks out from under the hood, them squinting up at the daylight and how much was left of it. They sigh, opening their journal once more and scribbling down some things.

Odd for a mul'neissa to be here, to those that don't know her.

Well, they can't ALL be clear days. But this fog is the sort of thing that makes one hunch your shoulders a little, like you're under a too-low roof.

At least, that's Telamon's opinion. Ambling across the bridge, his usual attire augmented with a heavier cloak to ward off the chill, he looks like he fits in even less than a mul does with his cheerful, I'm-not-concerned expression. Like -everything- is going to come up right eventually.

He turns to his companion, and says cheerily, "See? I told you we'd get here with no fuss! It's -Alexandria-, all roads lead here." Of course, his companion is a sturdy donkey with a long-suffering expression that suggests it's had to listen to his optimism for a very long day.

The cloaked hood raises some from their tome, head tilting to the side at the man speaking with his donkey. Was the donkey Un'eth again? She scratches her head. No, it couldn't be, Un'eth wouldn't be jabbed at pointlessly for so long.

Another sigh. Looks like a new soul. She remember a similar position she was in some months ago, and she approaches.

A slight whistle comes from the grey cloaked woman, her raising a calloused hand to garner their attention.

"Oh now... don't be like that." The donkey has decided to come to a stop, thankfully off to the side and not in the middle of the road. Telamon's entreaty only earns him a snort from the beast, and rolled eyes. "You're as lazy as I am," the half-sil jokes, scratching the donkey behind the ears. "Alright, we'll stop and catch our breath..." Then someone whistles at him?

That's new. He doesn't usually get whistled at. But then, this is all new to him! Telamon turns in a circle until he sees the cloaked woman raising a hand to him, and he smiles broadly. See, the afternoon is looking up already! He tries to give the lead of the donkey a tug, but it appears the animal is not quite done with its break yet. He gives the woman a rather embarrassed look, and tries another tug. No dice.

The woman approaches, and she pulls her hood down. A scarred mul'neissa woman with shimmery milk eyes peer up at him, head tilted one way sharply with her face in a neutral expression. She holds up a finger, opens her journal, then scribbles something down before showing it. Written in practiced Tradespeak is:

"Are you lost?"

As she looks up, there's a nasty, but old scar across her throat.

The donkey regards the mul'neissa with the same lugubrious lack of excitement it would probably show to anything short of a dragon. This is made up for by Telamon, who seems remarkably fascinated by this turn of events. He scans the short line in the journal, then responds, "Oh! No. Well. Not any more. There was a small detour that Raspberry and I took. It didn't delay us THAT much." He then slaps his forehead. "Where are my manners? Clearly left on the road. Telamon d'Atlon, originally of Ylvaliel, ma'am. May I know your name?"

In the mighty Tornmawr below, a form serpentines across the water to the bank. Eyes, snout, and then the remainder emerge. Once her tailtip is clear of the river, a brief, vigorous shake sheds remaining water from her scales. She then ascends the embankment to the roadway and bridge above.

The woman raises a brow, lips parting slightly in confusion before huffing a tinge in amusement. She plucks a scrap of paper from the back of the journal and holds it out to Telamon. It reads in well worn ink:

"Hello. I am Aryia. Nice to meet you."

She raises a hand in greeting once more. Some scribbling, and showing.

"Detour? Were you supposed to be here sooner? Where is that place you said?"

It appears she tried to spell the name of the town, but scribbled it out a few times.

Eyes flick to the figure emerging, them standing up a bit straighter. Aha! She was right! Raspberry was not who she thought they were!

Telamon, of course, immediately takes Aryia's hand and bows over it before letting go. "A pleasure to meet you, Aryia. Oh, it's a bit of a tale. See, my father wants me to eventually take up diplomatic work. But because I was ascertained to have magical talents, he sent me here to study and develop them." The donkey, Raspberry, lets out a sigh, and stamps his hooves a bit.

"Right. So, we were traveling here from Ylvaliel -- it's the border town of Mythwood Forest -- and they had me helping plot the course. Now, I'm perfectly good at using the stars for direction, but when you hand me the wrong map there's nothing I can do." He spreads his hands helplessly.

Un'eth notes the sil rather promptly; one familiar, one not so. Her tail thumps against the roadstones. "Peace on your nests." She may have caught morsels of the conversation as she notes, "The stars are less helpful guides in the city, this is true."

Aryia's eyes widen as her hand is taken. Calloused fingers twitch as she blinks a few times in surprise. That same hand makes two gestures, a down one then a thumb-index finger extended flipping over. "... that happened."

She shakes her head then listens. Not much else she could do anyways. There's a faint recognition that crosses her visage, then nods.

Her attention goes to Un'eth, her gesturing with familiar motions to the ebonscale. "Peace on your nest." <Handspeech>

Some more scribbling.

"Stars are helpful. Especially at sea. What kind of diplomatic work are you here for?"

A sith-makar! How fascinating! Telamon's not seen many of them. Smoothly, he switches to Draconic, with a good (if slightly high-pitched) accent, "Peace on your nest, sister, and warm be your hearth." before switching back to Tradespeak. "I think he wants me to go into trade negotiations. Being, well, half-and-half, I can see both sides -- and say so." He lightly rubs his chin. "But, you know, there's plenty of time, and I've got so much to learn. Things might change. I might even just devote myself full time to arcane studies and astronomy, assuming I can make a living at it."

Un'eth's head tilts, given that not many softskins learn to speak draconic, aside from... her head rights itself as his words continue. "A talent for many points of view is a blessing for such work," she offers before her snout bobs to Aryia in acknowledgement of the return gestures.

Aryia's eyes start to slowly glaze over at the mention of negotiations, and magic, though comes back at the mention of astronomy. Her brows knit some, a tinge of suspicion crossing her features. One that she doesn't voice.

She adjusts her sling on her neck, face twitching a bit as it smarts. Her slinged arm holds her journal, and writes further with her good hand.

Some more scribbling.

"There's a mage place just south east of the north gate."

Telamon frowns at Aryia's wince, seeing the sling. "I've been most rude, making you write with an injured arm like that. Have you been to the healers, or the priests?" He nods with a smile to Un'eth, before continuing, "Thank you for that. I'll be sure to consult there. Any kind of guidance might be useful." Raspberry makes another one of those snorts. As if to say, 'and he needs all the guidance he can get'.

Un'eth is only now reminded of Aryia's injury. "Is it not yet mended? I can speed thiss, if you wish." She gestures claws towards the sling before turning to Telemon... or, perhaps more to Raspberry. A light hiss of assurance. "Do not worry. He will have guidance." After, to the sil, she adds, "There are many places in the city. Some will suit you. She knows of them more than I."

Aryia chuffs, her finagling the journal again as she starts to write more. Scribble. Present.

"It's been healed by a friend. It needs time to rest. Just because the bones aren't shattered anymore and the muscles aren't torn to shreds, it still is beyond sore. I crashed into a chimney."

She shakes her head at Un'eth's offer. Aryia adds more, grimacing at the though of Un'eth mentioning something about 'amputating'.

"Do you want some directions to some places?"

Telamon brightens a bit once he's assured Aryia is no more than sore. Soreness fades, eventually, after all. "Well, don't do that. Crash into chimneys, I mean. That just sounds terribly unpleasant." He looks thoughtful. "Actually... yes, that would be very helpful. Mother warned me about wandering off into 'the wrong side of town' and that would be a truly humiliating end to my career, if not my life. I'm not -totally- scatterbrained."

"The wrong side is easily recognized," Un'eth suggests as she points a claw up the ridge to the upper portion of the city. Where the castle, itself, stands, surrounded by the opulent estates of the dubbed Noble's District. Aryia's clarification and decline of further aid is accepted and she speaks no more of it.

Aryia shrugs one shoulder, a ghost of a smile crossing her scarred lips. She scribbles more.

"Can't help it. Sometimes pain is the best teacher."

The shadow elf dips her head. More writing.

"Stay away from the Warehouse district. And where she said. And don't dress so too well on the docks." She points to the indicated directions.

Some more scribbling. Some more vague pointing. "Lower markets have a nice inn. Fernwood. Colloseum district has a nice bathhouse and inn, the TarRaCe. Lot of warriors around there. If you care about the gods, temples are that way." More pointing, her caring a bit less and gesturing more vaguely that way to the north east.

Telamon reads carefully, clearly trying to commit this to memory. "A good bathhouse is a blessing in itself," he remarks. "I may make that my first stop. I assume they have stabling; Raspberry's a calm beast, thankfully, and she doesn't bite. Now, stepping on toes... she's a bit overfond of that." He sounds rueful; voice of experience, and as Aryia noted, pain is the best teacher sometimes. "Stay out of warehouse and the castle districts, dress down for the docks. I think I have it."

"If you wish to bathe," Un'eth now gestures whence she came, "the Tornmawr is near as well. If you seek other needs outside the walls, the gate is there," she waves claws to the north. This may be redundant is it is possibly how he entered the city in the first place.

The comment about the bathhouse makes Aryia's slight smile turn into a lopsided grin. Scribble scribble.

"I can attest to them. They are fantastic. Your animal can be stabled there."

She blinks, then shivers. Scribble.

"Yes, but the river is cold. I don't get how you can deal with it."

Telamon grins. "I... don't think the Tornmawr has good facilities. I'm not overly picky but I don't think the town guard needs to see me charging into icy cold water in naught but my charming smile." He nods to Aryia. "Plus, with the weather turning? Sounds like an excellent way to catch cold, and it's hard to be dashing and charming in that condition." He shakes his head. "No, no, perhaps I'm a bit of a pampered popinjay but I would at least like a towel. I know, terribly disappointing."

Un'eth exhales a light snort. "The river is refreshing. Soon, the winds will bring far more chill than the water. You do not hear the fish complain!" She looks to the two with mild amusement, before suddenly taking three brisk strides to the rail, and leaping over it. Possibly to make her point? She vanishes into the tornmawr below.

Aryia blinks as Un'eth leaps over the rail, only to hear her splash below. Blink. Blink blink. "... it's warm deep under the water. And not everyone can hold their breath that long," her spare hand complains before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. <Handspeech>

She turns back to Telamon, writing in her journal as she does so. A white brow raised high.

"I guess. Anyways, do you need anything else? I'm kind of cold."

Telamon shakes his head. "No, ma'am. You've been most helpful. Is there some place I might seek you out, if I have more questions?" He glances at the splash of Un'eth slipping beneath the water surface, and just looks wry. "I wouldn't want you to think you needed to take a swim as well..."

Aryia squints at Telamon. He may have been charming, but such dashingness smacks across the shadow elf's face bluntly and bounces off, her expression unchanged. One tough cookie, this one.

Scribble scribble.

"Docks or the TarRaCe. I would like to never swim in a cold river again."

"Show me someone who wants to swim in a cold river and..." Telamon pauses, looks over where Un'eth vanished to, and fails to conceal a grin. "... well, then again. Ah well. Thank you very much, Aryia. I won't forget this." He takes up Raspberry's lead, and waves cheerfully. "Until again!" before starting to lead his donkey off.

Aryia gives a small nod, as well as a little bow. One hand slides over the other, closed fists touch with her fingers extended and she points to Telamon as he goes. She mouths the words slowly for him.

"Nice to meet you." <Handspeech>

-End Scene-