The Hook and the Harpoon

Log Info

• Title: The Hook and the Harpoon
• Emitter: Ebonne
• Characters: Ebonne, Sandy, Cryosanthia, Braelnoir, Edinaz, Hades, Merek
• Place: A05: Warehouse District
• Time: Saturday, January 30, 2021, 10:40 PM
• Summary: It's night. Ebonne is lost at the Docks, attempting to find the Hook and Harpoon Tavern using the wrong map. Sandy is in the area, carrying a large amount of cloth. Cryo, disgused as a blackscaled sith'makar, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for someone. She steps out to assist the war-golem, whom she recognizes from the day before. Imane moves to assist Sandy. Braelnoir, then Edinaz arrive in the area, both heavily disguised. Edinaz in particular resembling a gutter-drunk. An odd dance follows, where Cryo bumps into Braelnoir, then Edinaz, and backpacks are apparently switched twice. The destination, 'the Hook and Tavern', is taken from Ebonne's quest. Ebonne questions Sandy regarding a chainmail bodice, concerned that anything lighter will be ripped from her, per the warnings of the Crimson Pen. Braelnoir and Edinaz leave as Cryo returns to Ebonne. Hades and Merek arrive, Hades asks if Ebonne is seeking customers, mistaking her and Cryo for prostitutes. The two start to leave, Hades follows, a second golem, the Knightmare, arrives. Cryo tells Hades to stop following and directs him to another Inn. Ebonne takes that as directions for the Hook and Harpoon. Sandy leaves with her cloth, Merek leaves after gardening, Cryo instructs the Knightmare to help Ebonne, then slinks off. The two Golems discuss existing among the fleshy.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ebonne       6'10"    252 Lb     War Golem         Female    Tall slender feminine styled warborn, top knot w/ long silvery tail.
Sandy        5'0"     136 Lb     Llyranesi         Female    Purple haired, plump elf. Presumably irritable.
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Imane        5'6"     105 Lb     Dawn Elf          Female    A very pale Elf in black shiny leather.
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. 
Edinaz       6'10"    296 Lb     Half-Orc          Male      Grey-skinned half-oruch, extensive black ink.
Hades        6'0"     170lbs Lb  Half-Elf          Male      A simple-looking young man with a trident in hand.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Knightmare   6'4"     294 Lb     War Golem         Female    A knightly construct on the hoof bearing heraldry of lost Dragonier.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The docks.

At night.

Probably not the safest of places, but then again, with so many warehouses full of valuable goods necessary for the life of the city it likely wasn't the least safest area in the city. The warehouses might be the target of some nefarious happenings with goods being stolen, guards being bribed, or who knows what else but no, the source of our story begins with a tal and slender war golem walking through darkened streets, in and out of lamp light, under which she stops each and every time to read a map.

Presumably it's a map of the city as she is looking for landmarks and street signs and who knows what else. Eventually though she stops outside one of the taverns and lifts her helmeted head up to look at the pictogram sign then compares it to one on her map. Her expression if she could even manage one is of course hidden but the way her feet shift and start to turn one way, then the next, the poor golem is giving off some definite 'I AM LOST' vibes. Even with the map.

So there's an elf! And that elf is carrying a huge bundle of cloth that's obscuring her vision. It looks like expensive cloth, too, no doubt acquired from oine of the many warehouse holders here in the, you know, warehouse district. Where there are warehouses. A lot of them, actually.

Anywayy, what all this means is that she's about to walk straight into someone.

Imane still wears her hair with red on the ends to conceal the last time these circumstances took place, though she too seems to have come for the warehouses.

It's not the place one wants to encounter shadowy figures, especially when they suddenly step out of the darkness into a pool of light, as one does near the war-golem. It's a Sith'makar, tall and lean, with black scales and the curled forward horns that hang below the jaw, suggestive of a black dragon heritage. There's a small mask across the face, and leather armour with a lot of straps. Black, on black, of course.

"Hey, are you lost?" The voice is female. She steps closer to Ebonne. She seems aware of the elf with the many bolts of cloth, and while the sith isn't watching her she is moving to be out of her way.

Of course, there's not a lot of attention devoted to it so the avoidance dance may not be successful.

"Possibly." Ebonne's voice is a harmonious range of timbre's, obviously inhuman, and relatively soft and light, lacking deeper ranges that would suggest a more masculine sound but who can say with a golem? It works for her body styling though and helps promote the 'gender' of the genderless being. At least physically.

Sapphire and silver eyes look from the map over at the dark scaled Sith-Makar and she takes a step back when she notices the elf with all the cloth held and blocking her vision. "Is that wise?" She asks of the elf porter(?), "Maybe a cart would be helpful." She hmms and then her mask turns towards the black scaled Sith again, "I am looking for a tavern that has the sign of a hook and a harpoon crossed. Do you know where it is?"

Briefly, Sandy is confused. She hearws the voice of someone asking if they're lost and then stops to peer in that direction around the pile of clothes she's holding. Thus, she does not walk into either of them! It's quite the pile of cloth and she looks irritated to be even bothering with it.

The golem gets a once over, curious.

Imane approaches the closet of people near the lost golem and asks once close to Sandy, "Need a hand?"

"Yes, I know where it is," comes the reply from the blackscale, "It's along the receiving docks on the edge of the Tornmawr. It used to be a warehouse. Approach the south bridge, take the steps down to the bankside, then walk north."

"Are you looking for work? It's a rough place." The sith'makar keeps looking at Ebonne, glancing at Imane as she gets closer then whispering to the golem, "We met yesterday. I'm disguised, waiting for a friend."

Perhaps even up to no good!

Ebonne looks over at Imane and Sandy when the two stop quite nearby as Sandy almost ran into them. She looks at her map again, holds it up to the street lamp trying to get a better view of it maybe but then is distracted by what the black scaled Sith-Makar says to her, "Oh you do?" She lowers the map and anyone familiar with the city can tell by one look at the map that the golem has a map that is completely made up, or at least not for this city.

Ebonne's voice brightens up, "That would make sense I, I think, repurposing buildings makes sense." She nods once and then her head tilts to the side, "I did?" She questions the Sith-Makar, not speaking in a quiet voice completely not getting the idea of social subtlety, "Work. Yes. I need to have coin to get a chainmail bodice made. I do not wish it ripped off my armor." She nods once.

Succinctly.

Trusting much?

Cryo and Braelnoir are moving around, disguised, going into places, switching their disguises to look like someon else and then leaving. Occasionally doing so separately so they'd be harder to track. MAC-B1G, Edinaz and Baz da Ork participate, when available, in on the task: playing a person version of the shell game with the shard.

Moving with a casual cadence, Braelnoir, hooded and clad in humble winter wear, huddled in just a smidge for the chill, moves along the way with an understated alertness suitable for the time and area.

"Oh," says Sany, distracted by Imane's presence near to her. She then agrees and proceeds to start offloading bundles of tied off cloths to her. Seems she's going to get some help after all!

This gives her a clearer shot of Ebonne. "Huh," she says, thoiughtfully, as she critically inspects the golem.

Edinaz walks along, muffled in a big, dirty robe and leaning on a walking stick. He looks more like a war-scarred, down-on-his-luck veteran than anything else. The colours he's in are sufficiently gutter-brown to make the eyes slide.

Imane is buried under a pile of cloth.

The haversack is in a regular, very common backpack. They all have one, and are swapping them when they meet, doing disguise changes when they can hide. The wooden mask and their magic clothes going a long way.

The blackscale appears anxious. It's typically hard to tell with the lizard-folk, but she is looking all around, staring after something and her tail won't stay still. 'Hunting', it might be termed. "Warehousing is suitable for a golem as you can labour tirelessly. The pay is paltry. It's steady but earning enough for a chainmail bodice would take some time."

"There is an Explorer's Guild, that offers high pay, high risk assignments, of the sort that would suit your design. It's also not too far from here. Your map... seems... to be of somewhere else. Or very old..."

If the identity of the verbose Sith'makar wasn't clear, it's becoming so the more and more (and more) she speaks. Motion makes her head twitch to stare at Braelnoir, another headflick towards the brown-slicked veteran, "I could take you therr... There's my friend. You going to be ok?"

Idle time appears over for the blackscale, she starts to move off.

Half listening to the blackscaled Sith-Makar, and half studying Sandy while Sandy studies her, Ebonne does listen and comprehend, "I do not wish to be a laborer. It is not the purpose for which I was created. It is also false that we can labor tirelessly. We do require some measure of rest to recover ourselves fully." When the Sith-Makar starts to head off, the war golem moves to follow her, "The map is wrong? That is..." One can hear the disappointment in her voice, "What is the right word, angry? No. Distressing? Yes. That is it." She nods politely to Sandy and begins to follow the blackscale.

When she catches sight of Edinaz, her gaze slides right off him, likely as his clothing intended, but she pauses for a moment, "Do you know how to make bodice's of chainmail, or only cloth?" She asks Sandy, "cloth is to fragile, but I need a bodice." She looks back towards the leaving sith-makar and takes another half-hesitant step in that direction.

Imane heads off with the cloth.

The shrouded one sees the approach of the dark Sith, and she takes a curious note of their companion. A peculiar look takes her eye for a moment, but she doesn't alter her stride. A scan of gait, the artisanry of the golem's construction and weapons, and Brae glances about, though her reliance on the ambiance of the mana lamps limits her range, and knowing others are about is about all her human eyes can manage. Sandy's sends Imane off with some of the cloth, appreciative of her assistance. Now freed of the labor, the elf turns towards Ebonne and squints at them, curiously, on the approach. She's definitely going to have a look now.

"You must be new,' she decides, after a moments observation. It's definitely apparent to her, anyway, even as she's studied in turn. Edinaz shuffles along, maybe looking for a place to set up. At least a place to sit down. His eyes, though, move around alertly enough -- it would figure for a veteran, maybe.

She is blackscaled at the moment, but not black-hearted. Cryo notices Ebonne trailing after her and isn't about to abandon the war-golem. Still, her current task must be completed. The common looking backpack she was wearing was shrugged off her shoulders and slipped under one arm. She has no trouble in the dark, or even with her eyes closed, for near distances. She's spotted the Shrouded one and closes, bumping into her. At the contact, the non-descript backpack is exchanged for an identical one. "Hook and Harpoon Tavern," she whispers.

"I won't leave you," The blackscale says clearly to the war-golem, although she seems to be doing so as she changes direction immediately. "Wait there."

The Sith'makar heads over to the veteran, gets close. She's holding a pack in her hands, then she's still holding a pack in her hands. Did she exchange it? Does the veteran have one? These contacts are happening in the shadows between the Mana-lamps, it's difficult to see anything for sure. The blackscale whispers again, "hook and harpoon tavern."

Now she's returning to Ebonne.

"I am." Ebonne harmonizes to Sandy, "My question, can you make a bodice of chain or shall I look elsewhere? I am attempting to find someone who can make such a thing so I know how many coins I will need." She nods towards the blackscale Sith-Makar and seems unconcerned when the dragon leaves to go take care of other business in the shadows between the lamps. Silver and sapphire eyes turn back to Sandy. "This city is large, yes? Certainly many are new?"

Braelnoir takes the bump smoothly, and the pack is held to her side as it was on her approach. Amber eyes sweep the golem talking to Sandy on the close-in, but she moves along being as reasonably unobtrusive as she can, before finding an intersection to continue along her way. Edinaz grunts, and scowls, glancing suspiciously as he clutches up a pack. HIS pack. He mutters to himself as he finds a place to rest his aching bones for a moment. He digs in a pouch at his waist and pulls out a flask, and unscrews it slowly, glaring around.

"...ah, well. I suppose I can," says Sandy aft3er a moment, "with the help of an armorsmith. I can weave the chain into the bodice." She blinks her eyes at her. "But why would you want a chainmail bodice?" She looks a little confused.

"You know hwat, forget I asked. I probably don't want to know the answer to that." She shakes her head, dismissive of more information. War Golems are weird.

The question was asked, it is not forgotten, in fact Ebonne stands up a little bit straighter. Her voice is pleased, "Oh good, can you tell me how many coins it would cost and their type to have made?" The question Sandy doesn't want answered gets answered as Ebonne pulls out a little red 'Crimson Pen' book, "I am told this is an instructional material on the urges of softer beings. That it describes their mating habits. It is called a 'bodice ripper' as such apparently happens all too frequently. I wish a bodice that will conceal my skin." She taps her breastplate with it's feminine design lightly with a ringing sound, "But I do not wish my bodice to be ripped. It might suggest I am somehow capable of performing mating acts." Her tone suddenly grows more curious, "I am not." Her faceplate tips downwards and she tugs on the top hem of her chain loincloth, "I do wish to fit in better, and I am told I should cover my chest with clothing." The war golem shrugs a little, "I do not mind decoration, but I do not wish it destroyed at someone's," She opens the book to a page, flips pages, finds it and reads, "Uncontrollable desire." She quotes.

The blackscale prances up beside the war-golem, her leather ensemble creaking as she moves into place. She nods at Sandy, smiling, looking ugly. The hide is very close to the skull on a black dragon and living ones all look a little necromantic. The nostrils are sloped and little further back. A smile doesn't improve the impression; it helps that it's dark.

She is utterly deadpan when she says, "Uncontrollable desire is best avoided. Clothing will help you fit in. And it does happen all the time. The bodice ripping."

Edinaz looks up, and his mouth opens and closed. Remember who you're pretending to be, boyo. He swigs from his flask and bites his tongue, and drives his nails a little deeper into his walking stick.

Sandy stares at Ebonne for a long moment. She just stares. This is explaining a great deal to her. There's a little twitch of her lips as she struggles to maintain her composure. Then, as the golem continues, she nods along as if this all makes sense. And then she brings up uncontrollable desire and Cryosanthia responds and soon she's dropped the clothing she's carrying to double over and guffaw loudly. She's cracking up, yes.

Braelnoir is continuing on her trek to other pastures with her pack, but something about 'bodice ripping' and 'uncontrolled desire' from a voice she doesn't recognize as Sandy's gets a choked back snort from the shrouded woman. She knows someone she'll have to give an earful on that, later.

Ebonne turns her head towards the blackscaled Sith-Makar and her masked chin dips in a nod, "I am still not sure why the destruction of one's decorative or protective clothing would be sought after. I do not seek it, and wish to prevent it. It seems very rude to destroy anothers property simply because one desires to mate." She shakes her head, "So That is..." She pauses as Sandy starts to break out in laughter and then she stills and just waits, closing her book and tucking it behind the scabbard on her hip.

"Maybe," Ebonne muses in thoughtful harmonics, "I should not get a bodice at all." She reaches up to tap her chin lightly with light metal ringing sounds, "Perhaps a different garment. One I can still fight in, be properly decorated, and does not invite ripping from uncontrollable males." Clearly, it's the bodice's problem. That must be it.

Cryosanthia is currently disguised as a blackscale in the thiefiest of thief costumes. Resembling either a masked highwayman that might be found in the pages of the Crimson Pen or a Dominatrix available down by the docks, depending on how one ratios the leather to straps to scales. Her sartorial reliability is questionable, currently, even though she seems utterly assured in her opinions.

Of course, a lot of those were informed by perusing the Crimson Pen. Well informed. When Mikilos made her the Mask of a Thousand Tomes, one of them was used was a fragment of a story from those works. It guaranteed that while the item is an odd sort that accesses some meta reality of reference books, she'd be able to get the Crimson Pen reliably.

She has not wasted this opportunity to read when things get slow. The blackscale watches Sandy's uncontrollable laughter, then answers Ebonne, "there are other options. Kimono's are popular. Honestly though, very little disuades uninvited attention."

Hades was dressed in his robes this fine day, with bits and pieces of armor serving as further protection, even as he walked with his trident as something of a walking stick, before he notices everyone seemingly beginning to gather.

"Good day." He greets, a hood covering his face and facial features, with just certain strands of hair being visible...and his friendly grin.

One that Tarien would approve of.

He does seem to look a tad bit confused. "I seem to have missed a funny joke." he states mainly to Sandy, as he watches her apparently laughing herself silly.

"Wah ha ha ha ha," is what Sandy does a moment longer. She brings her knuckle to her eye to wipe a tear and then straightems up. She clears her throat, then says, "Yes. Yes, I can do that. Yyou'll need to come by the Prestigous Moon, but I can help you." She seems to find it funny enough to just go with it now that she's done cracking up.

Edinaz isn't looking like himself -- he's in gutter-brown robes, just tucking away a flask. He levers himself upright, and offers towards Ehonne. "It's not the clothes that're the problem -- it's the meat." Then, he starts stomping down the street, clutching his pack and leaning heavily on his staff.

Braelnoir continues off into the night along the street, toward whatever her ultimate destination is. The golem's armor was interesting, perhaps something to look into next time her warchest carries the fund for it.

Hades arrival makes Ebonne take a step away from him and she reaches to place a hand on the pommel of her sword, the other slowly reaching towards her shield, "I have no bodice to rip." Her harmonious inhuman tones are surprisingly firm. She even takes another partial step back in a posture of defensive preparedness.

Her faceplate stays focused on Hades as she asks the blackscaled Sith-Makar, "What is a Kimono?" She asks, attention shifting ever so slightly towards Sandy she asks, "How many coins will this require?" but Edinaz' comment gets her attention to turn fully towards him, "Meat?" She asks, confusion clear in her tone now.

"If you need help with those bolts, we can," the blackscale offers, leaning her hip to one side, leathers creaking. A glance towards Ebonne, "It's like a robe, but more fashionable. There's a bow. They're exotic, from Xian."

"Doesn't solve the attention issue though." As the war-golem pays more attention to Edinaz, she attempts to provide a distraction, "Let the man go home. He's drunk."

Hades is focused on next, forward curled horns and the skull-like face of the Sith'makar aimed at his hood. There is an answer, an explanation, but it's enigmatic, "It's packaging related. Some wrappings are funny."

Hades seems to tilt his head ever so softly as Ebonne seems to think he's there to have a way with them. "I believe you are mistaking me for a customer. I'm glad the truth is far more benevolent. I have no intention of ripping any bodices, thus you may keep your blade in it's sheathe, for I mean you no harm." He answers simply enough.

"It is a great shame I missed the joke, however." He lowers his hood though, revealing a half-elven male with black hair, who looks to be in his youth.

Merek wanders into the area, gazing upwards at the skies. Absentmindely, a cigarette is placed in his mouth, and left dangling. He doesn't light it. He grips his belt, a potion belt, and slides his hands along as he adjusts it, hiking it up against the rest of his dark attire. He looks down, People! A black sith makar, a war-golem, a half-elf and two stacks of cloth with legs.

"Can it be made with chainmail links instead of cloth?" Ebonne asks the blackscaled Sith-Makar. She looks after where the 'drunk' human wandered off to but then her attention is drawn back to Hades, "Customer?" Her tone darkens, "Are you calling me a brothel worker?" Fingertips tap tap tap on the pommel of her sword now. Her tone is.. not happy, some discordance showing in the otherwise harmonious nature of her voice. A low undercurrent of something negative there. "I am insulted. I am crafted for war. Not to sate the needs of base carnal urges."

With a violent shake of her head she starts to turn away from Hades and looks at tavern signs then looks at the blackscaled Sith again, "You said you could show me the tavern I seek?"

It's a fine night for a trot.

Mostly.

In the aftermath of getting her shell properly fitted, a golem akes her way through the city to test how it functions compared to the haphazard salvage she was clad in, before. This is.. kind of -also- salvage, but at least with the extraneous work done, it integrates properly enough that the added mass doesn't slow her any more than she'd been prior.

That is good.

There are a sort of heavy, somewhat sluggish hoofbeats to accompany her jog, plume and tail lashing with the movement. The gathering of figures ahead slows her pace a touch, and the visored gaze considers the figures that enter her field of view. Hmmm. There is agitation, perhaps strife.

The Knight alters vector, then to see if needs dispersal of an altercation.

"I don't know, regarding the Kimono. And I can, the Tavern is this way." The blackscale gestures in the direction of the South Bridge. She doesn't look in Merek's direction. She's shown enough of her face to Hades too, a thought that sinks in when he pulls his hood back. She bobs her head, "Nice to meet you."

As she starts to lead, and is hopefully followed, she realizes her vector has been compromised. Good news! It's a golem in her path. Bad news! Not one she recognizes.

The blackscale had hoped hanging around the warehouses at night would be lonely, but the crowd has hit 'caper' level and is trending towards 'heist'. She hisses, "Scaless."

Merek does not recognize the sith makar. It looks like the small group is busy. He smiles, "Good evening." A war golem he doesn't know, he looks blankly at it, lifting a brow and watching Ebonne speak, perhaps perplexed.

Hades shakes his head. "I believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot and intentions." he informs Ebonne, before his attention shifts then to the blackscaled Sith. "Tavern?" he questions with a raised brow, looking to the direction of the South Bridge. "Nice to meet you in turn." he says with a soft smile, but wanting to see where this is going, Hades decides to follow along.

Could be interesting.

He does not speak much further, but he does continue onwards.

When Hades starts to follow along Ebonne stops and just lets him follow the blackscale. She says one word in that same discordant tone: "Customer." Then she turns away and starts to move back towards Sandy, "You will help me-?" Her voice returning to it's more harmonious nature again but suddenly cuts off when she spots the hooved war golem that is also approaching.

There is a curious tilt of her head to the side but it soon ratchets back into place and looks back to Sandy, "Get proper decorative garments of the nature we spoke about?" Her original question continued after that brief pause. "We must still discuss payment for said decorations."

"I'm all right. That other elf, Imane, got enough of them."

Sandy tucks the remainder of the bolts under one arm, seeming fine with this for the time being. She's been observing since, given everything, and in fact she took a moment to lean against the wall. She's measuring Ebonne, making notes for the moment. MEntal ones about what might work for the golem.

Knightmare's approach starts to slow as, well, honestly, the signs of overt agitation are gone, but now everyone seems to be moving as a staggered unit. The crunching of her hooves slow to an eventual stop and she scans the group. No hands touch weapons, as the other golem suddenly reorients toward commerce and the Knightmare's head cants to one side.

Decorations?

A look between the half-elf and sith, back to the human, to the fullblood and there comes a tenative, "Is everything in order, here?" in a lilting, hollow voice.

Merek returns to gazing at the stars, thoughtfully lost in thought while he takes a moment to think about things. The man of nods does so now, nodding along to Knightmare, scratching at the stubble of his cheek. He remains distant from the conversation. For now, he seems to be examining flowers.

Flowers of some sort can be found everywhere. In the Warehouse district, in the dark, is not a typical place to go looking. Flowering weeds might be in the less worn cracks in the road, or up against the buildings. Nothing deliberately cultivated, or desired, or really visible to most passers by, yet somehow the man has located some.

The thing about spending all day trying to deceive scrying, avoid observation and lose pursuit is that it causes a certain hyper sensitivity to being followed. The blackscale stops immediately once Hades appears to be doing that. Having Ebonne peel off to resume her conversation with Sandy isn't helping.

She gestures away from the South Bridge, towards the harbour. "The nearest tavern is the Steelbelter Inn, across from the shipworks. The roof occasionally blows off but they have an excellent icebox." Odd qualifications for an Inn, hard to dispute.

"I'm not interested in company and do not want to be followed. Please, pick your path and go." The blackscale stands in the road, unmoving.

When Knightmare approaches, Ebonne turns her attention back to the other War Golem but doesn't answer as the question did not seem directed at her. Everyone else, but not her. She stills for a few moments, perhaps processing, when Sandy responds and Ebonne's attention turns back towards the purple haired elf, "Oh? I do not wish a hand out. If I may pay for the garment in some fashion I would prefer to." She harmonizes gently to Sandy, "I," She pauses, "What is word..." Another pause, "Appreciate, yes, appreciate the kindness you offer but if it will not offend, wish to make my way properly."

The comment about tavern has Ebonne looking back over towards the blackscaled sith-makar and she asks, "Is that the one with hook and harpoon? I will remember it's location. Thank you." Her chin dips towards her chest in a polite nod of thanks.

"Well said." the grim faced golem replies to the artfully clad other.

A pause, then Knightmare gives a look anew to the Sith, then to the others in turns as she tries to figure out the dynamics of this.... group is seeming less likely.... scattering of individuals.

Merek is content to watch the gardens. He begins eavesdropping. He pulls out a flask and takes a nice long drink. With a satisfied sigh, he adjusts his clothing and he begins to water the nearest flower.

Gardens? In the docks and warehouses? In the warehouses, a large path of weeds is the only garden that might be found. The tinkling of fluid splashing on the ground can be heard. The flowers are naturally yellow, being Dandelions, but this helps.

"It's not the Hook and Harpoon, but it is a safer place to go, and closer." The black Sith answers Ebonne.

"It's fine," she tells the Knightmare, sounding dismissive at first. This is followed by a more intense examination, noting her posture, general demeanor. "That one, Ebonne, needs location assistance. Someone gave her a bad map."

Then she's back to speaking to Hades, although it's not hard to overhear, and likely a warning for Ebonne as well. "Of course, the sounds of drunken rowdiness, the lights and the sign with the Oxley Ox dragging a stein shaped like Alexandria might make you believe there is a much closer tavern, right there." The blackscale points down the street, to a sign with an Ox on it, and a Stein.

"It's more an open invite brawling arena that serves drinks. A good place to loosen or lose your teeth and sleep deeper than you ever have before. And a much better place to pick a fight than here, provided you don't mind sweeping the floor with your face. It is reinforced so it doesn't fall into the sewers. Again."

The blackscale crosses her arms, leathers creaking and waits until he moves off.

Finished his business, Merek picks one of the flowers, carefully pulling it out to preserve the long taproot. He takes a potion from his belt, who knows what it does. It is quaffed. A clod of dirt next, forcing it down the neck, finally the dandelion root is pushed in, creating a flower-flask. Satisfied, he wanders off with his hand outstretched, examining his new potted plant.

"I will take your words under advisement and weigh them heavily." Ebonne says to the blackscale Sith-Makar her tone is respectful and... warm, or at least harmonious and without a note of discord. Knightmare's comment gets Ebonne's attention and the slightly taller, but less heavily built, war golem studies the other one. "Yes," She agrees, "I hope I did not insult." She glances at Sandy for verification but her sculpted faceplate turns back to Knightmare. "I am determined to be self sufficient. It is my place to be a protector. Defender. Warrior. Not a burden on others."

"No, not insutled," says Sandy, casually, shaking her head. That's al lfrom her for the moment but she is observing Ebonne still, now leaning against a wall and taking a moment to recover from her earlier amusement.

The hooved golem nods slightly after turning her face to the Sith for a moment or two, perhaps taking something in the tone directed her way. The further explanation prompts a pivot to regard the Embonne, "A disagreeable thing, when one would give out a map that cannot be trusted." she muses.

The response from the other golem prompts another nod, a brief, grim smile of sorts by happenstance, but she acknowledges with an affirming, "Best we do so, though knowing assistance can be counted on can be a comfort." She takes a cue from a number of her past companions and offers a hand, "I am Dame Betrys of Dragonier and Knight of the Lost Crown, it is a pleasure to meet you." An overt glance about and, "I am loathe to be intrusive, but I had thought there was some discord here, and originally intended to be of assistance. Well, it seems to merely be a misunderstanding on my part. Good evening to you all."

"Be well," The blackscale Sith'makar says, a warm and friendly tone in her voice as she replies to Ebonne. Her head is also dipped in a defferntial gesture, "The Lady Sandiel will advise you well, she can be trusted."

She nods at the portly elf, indicating her with an open palm as well. Hmm, she thought 'portly'. Well at least it wasn't 'fat', though that might apply too. It's dark and she's far away, hopefully far enough away Sandy isn't reading her thoughts. Dangerous thoughts, for the thinker.

"This one will be going. Peace on your Nests." It would be strange for an average sith'makar not to say that. Of course her disguise would be better served with more sibilation and less words. Oh well, next iteration.

She slips into the darkness that easily swallows her.

Ebonne looks at the offered hand with a curious expression.... if she could show expressions at all with that fixed faceplate of her helmet so it is instead a cocking of her head to the side slightly. She is distracted by the blackscaled ones leaving and offers a polite, "Peace be on your kind." Perhaps hoping to give more than just a small 'nest' response, or not knowing the significance of it.

Looking back to Sandy, Ebonne inclines her head again towards her chest, "That is well. I am pleased I did not insult on accident."

Then there's the other golems hand and she reaches out in an identical gesture but doesn't actually try to shake hands, "I have given myself the name of Ebonne. I have no need for more." She introduces herself.

There is a polite dip of the Knightmare's chin as the Blackscale opts to make her departure, "Peace on your nest." she replies in kind. She gently clasps the other golem's hand and gives it a slow shake for demonstrative purposes before releasing again, "It is customary in some parts. It is good to meet you, Ebonne."

Elaborating on her assortment of appelations could perhaps stand until later. She does give a look to the indicated Lady Sandiel and she gives a little bow, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady."

Squinting after the Sith-Makar that's departing, Sandy snorts after a moment and then turns towards Ebonny. "Sandy, that's mne. Owner of the Prestigioius Moon tailory." She pauses a moment, then waves it off. "Honestly, I shoiuld get going, anyhow. This cloth isn't going to deliver itself." She nods towards the north and then starts to head that way.

Looking down as her hand is clasped and shaken in such fashion Ebonne tilts her head to the side again, "I see." She says seriously, "There is much about these cultures I am not aware of. I hope to learn." She turns so that the other golem and Sandy are both in front of her so she can speak with them both without giving her back to anyone. "When should I come to receive the garment and settle payment for the decorative garment?" She asks.

"It comes with time, Ebonne." Betrys replies, herself shifting her hoofing to similarly align her vision on her company. It's after a quick look to Sandy that she wonders, "Do you require assistance, My Lady?"

"Come by tomorrow," calls Sandy over her shoulder, "I'll need to get some measurements and test garments, anyway, to find something that works!"

And then she's off onm her way.

Ebonne inclines her head into a polite nod, "I shall find a better map to learn the location of your establishment and be along then." She looks back to Knightmare and she asks, "You seem focused on assisting others. May I ask why? Surely it should be safe enough for someone to travel to their home or establishment?"

Knightmare takes that as a 'no' and bids the departing Sandy, "Have a pleasant evening!" before her attention is drawn again to the other golem. She considers the question, then, "In my homeland, death and danger are constants, I am... less accustomed to the comparative safety this city affords." There is a moment of further consideration, and, "The Lady was also carrying a burden, and I was uncertain how much strain she endures doing so."

"The burden she originally arrived with was much increased." Ebonne explains, "I believe she will be fine." She considers, "You, have a homeland?" She asks with a curious timber to her harmonizations, "You were created during the wars?" She considers that, "I am young in every way possible. Even by our standards. I am.." She pauses, "Envious of your greater knowledge."

"I was, yes." Knightmare replies, "I was built in Dragonier, though I did not realize my own being for some years. I fought, served and obeyed until the Siege of Feld Mor in 961." Her head lists a little to camber then, "I can offer some some insights I have gained over the decades, but there are some things, especially about the Others that continue to elude me, even now." She shifts her footing once more and, "But, I perhaps can share some with you now, should you wish...?"

"I am grateful for the offer, but I believe it is in my best interests to grow through my own experiences and my own viewpoint." Ebonne offers in response. "Not to make light of your own observations." She pauses, "I have been granted this existence to forge my own path. My own story. It would seem a betrayal to the council that created me to not experience that through experience that is uniquely and wholly mine." She falls silent, "I do not doubt I will make mistakes. I do not doubt many lessons will be hard learned. I may fail entirely but then that failure is mine and mine alone."

She tilts her head to the side, "The time comes when I must recuperate. To that end I must seek out this tavern as directed to me by the scaled one to have the safety of doing so." Ebonne inclines her head again, "I hope in the future we may stand against that which would darken this world side by side." She considers the other war golem, "Your design is interesting and unique in my memories, I am interested in seeing how it performs when that time comes. Until next time we meet." The tall and slender war golem turns and makes her way towards the inn she was given directions to.