The Story of Sufri'gan

Log Info

• Title: The Story of Sufri'gan
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Seyardu, Sjach, Durrankar
• Place: W02: Mictlan
• Time: Thursday, April 15, 2021, 6:19 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia is visiting Mictlan to see if she can find a Shaman who can assist her with her issue. Seyardu is recently arrived from Am'shere, via the portal and Alexandria. Sjach returns from hunting with his swiftclaw and is immediately beset by Little Fang. Durrankar arrives to much deference, and approaches Cryo, haven't heard she needs him. The whitescale is reluctant to discuss her issues and instead Durrankar regals the two, to him, newcomers Sjach and Seyardu with the story of how Sufri'gan was sent by the Death Singing Dragon to defend Mictlan against Charnese assault, using the sith'makar's own younglings against them. Happier times are about, the holy land tranquil now, and Durrankar offers Candy Meat to the other sith. Eventually the silverscale and whitescale are left alone, and discuss clothing and colour choices, where Cryo discovers that Seyardu is chromatically blind, seeing only shades of grey, white and black. She offers to help with clothing selection, and leads her to the Shaman-Caste tents, then seeks Un'eth on her own.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* 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  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Seyardu      5'6"     150 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint.
Sjach        7'0"     268 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      Lithe emerald and charcoal sith male.
Durrankar    7'0"     398 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      Silver Sith-makar with blue eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  NPCs of Note  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Little Fang 'Lily'               Kobold            Female    A carnation-scaled kobold foundling, Cryo's daughter.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The sky is cloudy. Grey, with a low fog just about the treetops that blocks direct sunlight and simply glows instead. Nothing casts a shadow. There s a mild southwest wind.

Mictlan, inside the magic wards, is warmer than the surrounding early spring. While not Am'shere jungle temperatures, there is a distinct shift to a higher one more amenable to most of the People.

Only a few struggle with it, one is present now. A Whitescaled Sith'Makar woman who hasn't visited for a while. She wears a flamboyant swashbuckling outfit and carries a non-descript looking backpack. With her is a carnation-scaled youngling, who runs back and forth across her path.

There is a pace to Mictlan which never changes, and is easy to slip back into. She seems to be trying to do just that.

Seyardu had been pleasantly overwhelmed by her first foray out of the jungles, and into the lands of Alexandros. But while enjoyable, there was already a creeping homesickness, one she hoped would pass. Rumors and comments alerted her to the presence of a small area north of the city, where mmany Sith-makar gathered, including many Shaman. Hoping to meet more who have grown accustomed to the lands, she began her trip out into the wilderness, looking for the mentioned area.

The silver sith-makar found herself inside the wards of the area, visitng as well. She happens across the white sith-makar and the small child with her, stepping much closer than most would before she offered a wave of greeting.

Making his way up the path to Mictlan, under the great bones that rise to surround this place is a green-and-black Sith makar, tall and lean and wiry, he is not quite so burly as many of his kind. But, that doesn't stop him from making his way into the camp with a fresh catch for the cookfires, a young buck slung over his shoulders. At his heels is a young Swiftclaw- though she is perhaps bigger than the last time Cryosanth and the young Kobold saw her.

Sjach offers glances of recognition at some of the other warriors and hunters he knows as he makes his way further into the supernaturally warm Mictlan. Eventually reaching a spot oft used for the butchering and dressing of game. He unburdons himself of the buck, leaning forwards to drop it to the ground, and then settles in on tail and haunches, pulling out a sharp shard of obsidian, wrapped partly in lever cord, to begin the process of turning his catch into meat and other useful products.

"Peace on your Nest," the whitescale hisses in draconic, looking directly at the silverscale. She adds, "Give greetings, Little Fang."

The pink youngling stops running around long enough to look up at Seyardu, "Peace on your nessst. Are you money?" Then she spots the hunter and his swiftclaw, "Sssjach! Sssjach!" She bounds off without waiting for an answer.

"This one is Cryosanthia, Speaker-Caste." The whitescale says, adding, "Cryo in emergencies. Apologies for my young one. We don't know many silvers. Are you direct or distant relation to the Silver Empress?"

Seyardu looked down to the youngling, but before she could respond they had already ran off. She shook her head and turned her attention to the person in front of her, squinting slightly while appraising the much taller sith-makar, but smiling slightly from the antics of the child.

"Peace on your Nest." the silver sith-makar replied. "It is a fortunate occurence to find this place, though I should not be surprised to find speaker-caste here. I am Seyardu, shaman-caste. As to any relations, distant or direct, I cannot say for certain. I am myself."

Sjach looks up from his grizly work at the sound of a familiar voice, nictitating membranes blinking slowly and the spines on his head twitching slightly. "Peace on your nest, Little Fang." he offers her on her approach. His Swiftclaw scrapes at the dirt impatiently nearby, making known her intent with a flare of her nostrils. Sjach shakes his head, and reaches into the buck's mouth to slice off its tongue and toss it to the swiftclaw, who snaps it cleanly out of the air.

"Is little fang here with her mother, today?" he wonders of the carnation colored youngling, looking up a moment to glance around and see if he can't spy the whitescale.

"Yesss." Little Fang answers, circling around the swiftclaw and staying away from her mouth. She remembered that lesson. She smiles up at Sjach, and points. "Ssassa iss there."

Cryosanthia stands a little ways away, speaking with a silver-scale. "Welcome Seyardu. There are many shaman here. This one came to see, a personal issue. The cook-fires are here, all may eat. Do you need a guide, introductions? This one is known."

"Your welcome is greatly appreciated Cryosanthia, and I wish you well on your personal matters, though if it is that requiring a shaman, I may be able to help. Perhaps a guide would not be a bad idea, as some assistance navigating the area and those here would be appreciated." The silver sith-makar replies.

Sjach responds to little fang's toothsome smile with one of his own, and then says, "Ah- here." and he sets down his knife a moment. He wipes his hands clean on his trouser leg and then reaches into his pack, fishing for a moment, he produces some strips of jerky- offering one to the youngling. "I will greet your ssassa. It has been some time." he says then, picking up his dagger again and rising up. He eyes his catch for a moment, and the swiftclaw nearby. Noticing his conundrum, one of the other hunters offers to take over preparing the beast- and keeping it out of reach of glutonous swiftclaws. Sjach offers an appreciative nod, and moves to begin heading towards Cryosanthia and Seyardu.

There is a thumping of a tail...and the second thump of a staff as another silver walks his way into Mictlan. If the nearby sith-makar are not busy, they actually bow to this particular silver as he walks his way through. He walks with a slow step, but seems more concerned with getting to the cooking fire than anything else, which happens to be near Cryosanthia, Sjach and Seyardu.

"Thankssss." Little Fang hisses, taking the time to tear a strip from the jerky and eat it slowly. Before she might have gobbled it all down as fast as possible to prevent theft. She watches the hunter's knife move around, then dogs behind him as he heads over to the two women.

Cryo remains somewhat formal in her stance, tall and a little on the stiff side. This forces her to look down at Seyardu, although she seems unwilling to change her posture. She asks cautiously, "Are you familiar with... transformations? The wild-shaping? This one intended to speak with Un'eth or her Cihuaa... oh! There he is, the Warden of Mictlan, Shaman Durrankar."

Oddly, the whitescale doesn't bow. She turns carefully, calling, "Peace on your Nest, Warden."

"Only what I have heard from other shaman-caste in story and history. The realms of druidic magic are not my own specialty, apologies. That lies withing restorative magics and the studies of the divine." The silver sith-makar replied.

Where the whitescaled sith-makar was formal to the point of stiffness, Seyardu was casual in her stance, even if she needed to look upwards to meet Cryosanthia. She looks over to the others who have grown closer, not bowing either, but offering a wave of greeting accompanied with the perpetual, appraising squint.

"Thiss one has found something that belongs to you." Sjach offers once he draws nearer to Cryosanthia, stepping aside for a moment to reveal the youngling following along behind him. He glances towards the keeper, and offers a dip of his head- not a proper bow, perhaps, but a sign that he is at least beginning to develop his manners some after spending so much time alone in the wilds.

"Peace on your Nests." Sjach offers all assembled, now that he's interjected himself into their ongoing conversation.

"Peace on your nests." Durrankar says in draconic, "You have been seeking me, Speaker?" He says to Cryosanthia...then looking to the....rather small silver...then to Sjach. "I have not seen either of you before.....Welcome to Mictlan..."

Little Fang accelerates as she closes the distance, runs up Cryo's tail, digs her toes in her belt then uses invisible handles and climbs higher, ending up standing on the whitescale's shoulders and holding herself up by hanging onto her swept-back horns.

Cryo winces through this, "Ow, Little Fang... never mind. Ssstay there." She hunches forward a little, and dips her head towards Sjach, "Thank you for returning her."

Faching Seyardu once more, Cryo continues, "Thank you for the offer then. This is another friend, Sjach, Hunter-Caste. Seyardu is Shaman-Caste, new to Mictlan."

The whitescale moves stiffly, even moreso with a youngling riding on her shoulders, to face Durrankar. "Yes, this one was. This one is... stuck. It can wait, if the others have questions. They should know..." She gestures upwards at the bones.

Seyardu can't help but chuckle slightly as Little Fang scrambled up Cryosanthia and ended up on her shoulders. They turn their attenction to Sjach and Durrankar, taking stock of the two that were know there.

"Peace on your nests. Cryosanthia is correct, I am new to Mictlan. And Alexandros in general. Yet despite that, this place feels familiar. Welcome like any tribe I came across in my travels."

"There are different ways with each tribe that you could learn, but your connection is likely because of our connection to the ancient ones." Durrankar says to Seyardu. "A little knowledge on why there is a connection, goes a long way." He says as he begins to walk in a particular direction....despite giving some strips of meat to another...smaller silver. "COok these the way I taught you. We shall return, little one." The silvered female nods and begins to cook, as instructed.

Sjach dips his head again, at the introduction, "Yess... this place is... welcoming." he says, slightly haltingly, as though chosing his words carefully. Though he seems pleased enough to describe Mictlan as such. "This one has found a home here." he adds. He glances back towards his own little one, the swiftclaw, bothering the hunter who had taken over dressing the carcass, and he clucks his tongue. "Thiss one musst return to his task. There will be venison, later, if you like it. And horns and hooves, if you need them." he adds, mostly for the benefit of the Shaman-class.

With that, he turns and begins to head back over, chirping at the swiftclaw to get her attention, and then scolding her for being a nuisance- in a nevertheless fond tone.

Cryo's horns sweep behind her head and are like handlebars. An aspect exploited by her pink youngling who leans her weight from side to side. The whitescale obligingly turns this way or that, steered in small circles and wandering nearby.

Little Fang makes the occasional, 'psshwwww', 'psshwwww', noise. Cryosanthia objects, "No, Ssassa is not using her breath weapon. Ssassa is not a goblin anti-airship canon." This does not dissuade the pink youngling.

When she is turned bck to face the other sith'makar, seeing how far they have moved, she runs to catch up. "We might need a horn, to practice carving," she tells Sjach as she passes him.

Re-joining Durrankar and Seyardu, she bobs her head, listening and following along for now. Except when her pilot takes her off course, of course.

"I am pleased to hear that you have been able to find a home here. If there is food offered, then I would not turn down a meal, though I have little to offer, other than succor for the injured and ill. I will interrupt you no longer, though. Perhaps we can speak more when your work is done." Seyardu replied. She squinted even more, seeming to look at a few places around the camp, where several had bowed before. "You are correct, all tribes have their own ways, knowledge to learn from them. I am surprised to hear of such a colony in the area. but it is a pleasant place. And please forgive me, but I noticed how your scales caught the light, and the acts of deferrence I believe shown towards you, Durrankar. Should I be acting with similar tact?" she asked the shaman.

"I have been told it has something to do with my scent. I do not smell anything strange about me." Durrankar says with a completely straight face. "You act how you think you should, Shaman." he says as he continues to walk in a certain direction. "There are many tribes here. However, some have adopted the 'Mictlan Tribe', as their wish to stay on this side of the portal....as their desire to live in, and protect Mictlan."

After a few moments of walking and talking...he stops...pointedly. He even places his staff on the ground....and it begins to glow.....as does the light catch upon his scales...and some markings upon his scales begin to show a more....ancient pattern. Durrankar seems to be unaware of this.

He gestures towards a pyre that some seem to be guarding. "The Warrior caste protect this fire, and keep it lit with their own personal flame. As long as this flame is lit....this area is kept safe from those that would do our people harm. It has been the dedication of myself and my Cihuaa, Un'eth to keep this area safe from those that would enslave us. And the spirit of Sufri'gan protects us in Mictlan....and Sufri'gan is a welcome friend to rest among us."

Durrankar lifts his hand higher.....to show more than the lit pyre...

....The bones of a long dead dragon....

Cryosanthia follows, carrying her backpack, occasionally steered off course by a whistling youngling. When she's aimed in the correct direction, she sprints and keeps up. She moves awkwardly, as if she's in pain and only semi-successfully hiding it.

Her nostrils flare, she smells a lot of things, but scents have never been her strong suit and they were deliberately dulled for a time. She watches, as the staff glows, as Durrankar's ancient patterns show through.

Her gaze follows the flames up, to the bones.

Seyardu had her attention torn between the white scaled Sith-makar that kept being veered around, and the shaman who was leading the way. She struggled at times to keep up, clearly measuring many of her movements. A pause was over long as she noticed Cryosanthia being in pain more. The delay long enough to put her behind enough to make her sprint to catch up, leading to the sith-makar tripping over the ground, and falling with a grunt. She picks herself up as if nothing happened, jogging at a much more controlled pace to catch up.

Seyardu looked more confused than anything by the way Durrankar spoke and the shifting appearance of his scales.

"It sounds like a great effort has gone through to develop this area, I did not know there was such a place on the other side of the portal. Are there truly such worries here as well, about risks such as that? The land has seemed quite peaceful, from what little I have seen." The sith makar asks as she dusts off her clothing.

"Charn has gone through the portals to take our eggs, and use the hatchlings as slaves. Thus, we rarely trust those on this side of the portal. For we only knew ourselves, and those that would take us away." Durrankar then turns to Seyardu. "We had Charn attack here once...using slaves...meant to explode when they got close to our borders. In that time...." He then gestures with his staff. "The Death Singing Dragon heard our plea for help....and returned Sufri'gan to us....to protect us once more. We are distantly related to the dragons, who themselves, are messengers of the Dragon Gods....such as angels." He seems to take a breath at that. "The dragons are very important to our people....and we honor our dead as well." He says gesturing to the ribs...pointedly...where there is some darker grey spots than others. "Those whom have died and returned to Mictlan.....are burned.....and their ashes placed on Sufri'gan.....to join him in his rest."

"There are... a lot. Oh, be careful! Are you okay?" Cryo bends a little to help, then decides against it when Seyardu is swiftly on her feet. "Keep up with Durrankar, I'll catch up. Little Fang can't really steer me."

Little Fang is doing her best to do so, standing off one of Cryo's shoulders, pulling and saying, "Turn! Ssasaa! Turn"

Obligingly, the whitescale runs a very spiraled path, "This one wishes she had seen that. This one has helped return the dead." Long distance to Whirlpool: Cryosanthia nods, "Ah, ok."

"I am just fine. Do not worry about it. I'll continue on in that case." Seyardu dismissed quickly, giving Cryosanthia and Little Fang a smile to dismiss any worries as she continued to jog up to the shaman, catching the tale he was spinning. She turned her gaze skyward, a sigh escaping her with an accompanying frown.

"I see, the Charn trouble this side as well, that is a troubling thought. I wish I could have been around, to help. But I can only take some solace in knowing that the gods were listening, to provide what aid they can."

"They help when they can, but they cannot directly intervene. I imagine they do not, because it would be hard to bring down a god as a mortal...no matter how powerful tou think you are. Also...handle their messengers with care." Durrankar then looks to Seyardu. "So....you are standing in a holy site. Made sacred by Un'eth and myself to protect against those that would do us harm, to provide a home to the tribes that came through the portal...and a place to grow our own food." He then gestures towards a patch of ground. "Do not go near those. Unless you like very very very spicy peppers."

"Ceinara, only watches." Cryosanthia says, nodding to Durrankar's tale. "Both sides of the Am'shere portal are guarded. Here is safe."

"Alexandria... less so." She exhales, staring upwards, directing Little Fang's attention towards Sufri'gan's bones. She adjusts her hold on her backpack, changing her grip on the straps.

Seyardu says, "Of course, the dealings of mortals should be the dealings of mortals, but it does not reflect on their lack of care. If that was the case, I would not be standing here to hear your stories, nor would I have been able to help those that I have." Seyardu replies, reaching to clutch the neck of her vest, and something beneath. "I know that at very least, the mother approves of what you do here most likely. I did not know the city so dangerous though, I will remain on my guard there."

She chuckled slightly, looking to where he gestured. "I do like spicy peppers, they bring a brightness to meat and sauces that can improve most things. Though, I know that eating plants found without prior testing is a foolish plan.""

"There is flavor...and there is heat. These peppers are made for maximum heat." Durrankar says as the patterns on his scales begin to fade. "There are a few rules to Mictlan." He holds up one claw. "Protect those of your fellow sith-makar if you can, unless they have done something against you." he holds up a second claw. "If you have comitted a crime in the city....do NOT seek asylum here. It will be the first place they look, and we do not wish to go to war with Alexandros at all. If you have committed a crime and come here looking for asylum, you will be turned into the Alexandrian authorities at the next dawn." He holds up a fourth claw. "Thankfully, this one is a bit less strict: respect your elders. Some come to me for wisdom and....I just ask 'why?'."

Seyardu isn't sure if Durrankar is being confusing with his counting on purpose.

Durrankar is old...... confusing is what he does.

"This one has no wisdom, being a Speaker, this one simply repeats the words she hears." Cryosanthia explains, nodding, "Those are the rules of Mictlan. They are not hard to stay within. Each Caste has their tents, open to all. Some have their own. This one..."

She gazes off at nothing in particular, then looks back at Seyardu, "This one stays in Alexandria. For good reasons."

Seyardu Listens patiently, though she wavers more with each claw held up, until lost herself for a moment of confusion at the fourth claw until she shook her head, chuckling.

"The rules seem fair and just, I would never wish to incite violence against other sith-makar without a good reason and exhausting other possible options. Nor would I want to damage what you have all managed to create here. Though I might think that they wish to speak with you to hear your stories? I have learned quite a lot in a short period of time through what you have shared, and I thank you for it.

She turned back to Cryosanthia, shaking her head. "You speak too little of what you do. A speaker must weigh what they repeat properly, and there is wisdom in that. For even if providing translations, there is more wisdom in bridging the gaps between languages and cultures. I have been staying at an inn in the city, but I will keep that in mind, and hope that I will be welcome to use the buildings here in the future."

"I have been away for a long time, so my stories are far in the past, and have mostly retired from adventuring." Durrankar looks towards the city. "Some things have happened that have shaken my faith....and I do not wish to cause any more harm." He lets out a breath...which causes smoke to come out of his nostrils. "As you adventure....be safe....and you have a home to return to."

"This one... stays in different places. I used to work at the Fernwood Pub when I was much younger," Cryosanthia adds, with a long look at Durrankar. She nods, "there were things that have eroded my faith. This one has given up trying to save the world."

She reaches up, tickling her little youngling, who squirms about. Cryo continues, "or this one's world is much smaller now. My foundling. Eggs. I choose my battles carefully. This one does not rush immediately into battle anymore. There is at least a moment's thought."

She smiles, a glimpse of teeth, a nod towards Seyardu, "This one makes light of the Speaker-Caste role, but this one knows the power of words in the right and wrong place."

"And your stories are good, Warden Durrankar, this one is always interested in learning, or hearing again what she forgot. Who knows, even Little Fang might listen."

Little Fang, hearing her name, briefly considers what was said, then hisses, "Noooooo."

"Durrankar, no matter what you have done, or has happened in the past, it does not diminish the actions of today. I am sure that I will return here again, to hear more from you, if you are willing to share. I have only met you once, but like Cryosanthia, I will look forward to learning more from you." *Seyardu says, giving as warm a smile as she could muster to the elder shaman, before turning back to the white scaled sith-makar, nodding back.

"I do have most of my life ahead of me still. I know I can not save the world, but I can help those where I find myself. Change someone's world, at the very least. I hope I will find my own place on those travels."

"It was my turn to save the world once....it will be your turn in time, Shaman. Just as it was Cryosanthia's one time." Durrankar starts to walk back towards the fires...and the silver that was tasked to cook....walks up to him and offers....meat. Durrankar takes some...and bites into one of the strips. He chews throughtfully, before thumping his tail. "Well done. You have learned well. I look forward to more from you." 'Thank you father.' the smaller female says to Durrankar, before he turns to the other two. "Share with us. She has done well in cooking the candied meat."

"Yesssss!" Little Fang squeals happily, hearing exactly the words she wants to. She lets go of her Sith'mom's horns and falls down her back, jumping off her tail to land with a roll and pop to her feet in front of the young silverscale. She holds her hands up, "Candy meat! Candy meat. Pleaasssssse."

Cryo jolts a little, remains in her stiff posture, watching her youngling. "Good, you remembered to roll, and say please. This one would also like some." She steps closer.

"Silverguard Serene, Sentinel Kira, Arch-Mage Mikilos. They saved the world. And they died for it." Cryosanthia says, a sadness in her voice, but not a great one. She shakes her head, small motions from side to side. "This one did not do much. Witnessed. Handed out Candied Crickets. Failed to change a mind. The world was saved and this one was there, but..."

The whitescale shrugs, then hides a small grimace reaction, "The candy meat smells lovely."

Seyardu says, "I appreciate your hospitality. I admit, I have never been much of a hunter, but there will be things I can do to repay this, in my own way." Seyardu says as she takes some of the meat offered from the young cook with a smile. But she didn't eat yet, stepping aside instead, farther away from Little Fang.

"But you remember them, and even if I do not, I can be thankful for what they did. And I would ask, is there anything I could do to help you? It pains me to see you have to hide your own condition so." She asked, the squint more questioning in nature now."

"They answered the song of the Death Singing Dragon. I am sure her followers will make sure they rest well." Durrankar says softly. "Cryosanthia may be sad that they answered the dragon's song. Kira's path seemed to be pacifistic which....caused her to be at odds with many adventurers....especially if they were defending themselves. it certainly took her longer than I thought it would to answer her song."

"They... returned." The whitescale says, "She allowed them to come back. That does not mean their passing was painless, or swift. They suffered a lot."

The air seems a little cooler around Cryosanthia, despite the magic of the place, and she exhales heavily. "Serene, her death was swift, the others. No... Kira was most brave. Truly devoted to the Nest-Mother to the Stars. This one heard their stories when they were restored. Serene... she gave up her reward to return. She called us heroes, yet she is one of the best."

Little Fang is tapping on Cryosanthia's knee, holding up a strip of bacon, "eat!" Tap. "Eat!"

"Yes Little Fang, this one will eat." Cryo takes the strip, holding but not biting it, gazing at Seyardu, "This one is most grateful. It's... embarassing and this one does not wish to share more than I have. Un'eth, perhaps, would be the best one for me to speak to. It may simply resolve itself in time." She waves a hand vaguely, "it is an aging issue. I'm told."

Seyardu says, "I understand, or at the very least, I have heard stories of matters such as that." Seyardu replies, pausing to take a bit of the candied meat. "This meat is excellent by the way. Your daughter did a good job preparing it." She calls out to the two near the fire. "And while I am still young myself, but I have spent several years helping others across the jungles, so I might understand. But that is understandable, if you would rather seek aid of someone you know better.""

"Enjoy then." Durrankar says as he turns away. "I shall go and rest for now. Welcome to Mictlan, Seyardu. Share what you can, for we will share with you." And Durrankar heads off to rest....

"She did indeed," Cryo nods to the young silver-scale, grinning as Little Fang runs over for more strips. "Oh!"

She reaches into her backpack and rumages around, then brings out a small tin. She holds it out to Seyardu, "This may be of use to you. Silver Scale polish. It was a gift for my scale-sister... and then she lost her scales. Long story. Anyhow, it does not work for me, or Little Fang. Makes us look like someone sneezed all over us. If it would be useful to you, it's yours, or..."

She glances at Durrankar's daughter, whispers, "She might be too young for makeup."

"I would likely agree, it is not something to worry about too much yet for her." *the silver sith-makar whispered back.

"Your sister lost their scales? I am sorry to hear that. but-oh, ah, that's very kind of you to offer, thank you." Seyardu replies as she picks up the offered tin, opening it up to investigate it as much as she could. The sith-makar looked and sounded just a touch embarassed, and sad as she continued.

"While I am sure that it looks nice, and it would likely look nice on me perhaps, I do not know if I would be able to apply it properly, as I don't know how most things look properly."

"Oh, it's very simple, rub it on with a cloth and keep rubbing." Cryo says, smiling and tilting her head, "it is, as this one understands it, a mixture of alchemical silver, volcanic pumice, and a binding agent that is some sort of beeswax to hold it all together. It buffs the scale surfaces, the alchemical silver is fluid enough it fills in any tiny cracks and the wax eventually is all melted or coating things and then you brush the grit away and you're at lot shinier."

She holds out her arm, indicating her own scales. Hers are white, with faint traces of a very pale blue throughout many of them. Highlights, in effect, that form strange patterns which are only visible when the light hits right. "On me it smears, I get silver and white streaks, and just look dirty."

The whitescale smiles, "Most here don't use it, but... this one interacts with the softskins often, and it helps to look impressive. This one had a lot of hopes for how shiny Braelnoir would be."

Seyardu says, "Oh, so there isn't any speficics to its applications? Perhaps I could make it work then. If you are still offering it, then I would gladly accept it." Seyardu says with a sigh, smiling again as she closed the tin, and looking at the arm for a moment. "That sounds interesting, and it would be good to look impressive around the softskins in the city. When I first got here, I got so many strange looks until I found a tailor, I believe it was,to get something to replace the leathers I was wearing."

Seyardu pauses, looking down to her clothes, and back to Cryosanthia. "You seem to understand these matters better than I. Does this look alright, what was suggested to me? I don't even think they mentioned the color, and I don't know if it works properly or not.""

Cryosanthia leans, weight on her back foot, she holds the front of her jaw thoughtfully while she looks Seyardu over. She nods, "The vest and skirt look fine. They are a little plain, which is fine for a warrior. Here, let me demonstrate. This one has magic clothes."

Which she demonstrates with a little bit of concentration. First, nearly everything she is wearing vanishes, except for boots, gloves, a corset and her mithril mail, leaving her with two strange sleeves on her forearms. She concentrates some more, and is wearing an outfit identical to Seyardu's.

"This one would make the grey a little lighter, to more closely match your scale coloure." The colour of her vest and shirt go a shade lighter. "It is possible to get silver thread, which you could use for the hem, some embellishments and embroidery. Not much." As described, some silvery piping appears, as well as shiny cuffs. "Finally, the dragon head you could also get as a symbol." One appears on her chest.

Cryo spreads her hands, "You look fine as is. Leathers are fine. This one still has her leathers from Am'shere. Softskins cannot easily tell us male from female and the men wear leathers; they will assume you one if you wear the rough Am'shere armour. Greys and grey-blues definitely work for your scale colour. Some black would also, white, perhaps too."

Seyardu watches carefully at the explanation, but she squinted more, growing a bit more confused by the shifting clothing.

"I always assumed that I looked alright, but it was strange how so many people looked at me. And you are correct, more than once did someone call me sir,and those who got it correct seemed mostly by chance." she finished with a small chuckle. "So if it was gray mixed with blue, it could work? I can always ask someone about that. Forgive me if I struggle a bit with this, but it's hard when you can't actually tell what blue actually looks like."

"You can't see blue?" Cryo tilts her head, looking at Seyardu's eyes, "Those two go well together, though grey is more a stage of light shading. Most blue and greys will work together. Different races do see them differently... hmm..."

"Well, subtle is usually better than wildly contrasting, but it does depend who you will be seeing, when you will be meeting them. Adventuring it helps to have something that blends with the woods or the underground walls, depending where you wend up."

She crosses her arms, "I usually pick the colours I like, and I have only blended in when there was snow. Oh! We have snow! You will have to wait a year to see it, but it's very interesting. You're... more reflective, you may camoflague better naturally. I gave up all hope long ago."

Seyardu says, "I can not." the silver sith-makar replies, sighing as Cryosanthia looked at her eyes, almost a uniform light silver, almost the same as her scales, with only the slightest three changes of shades all that distinguished the parts of them. "Blue, or anything like that. It's all something between white or black. So it is hard to tell what does and doesn't blend in if it's the same shade. There is, snow here? That does sound interesting, I will look forward to seeing that.""

"Oh." The whitescale blinks, staring, "is... that normal for silverscales? Durrankar has never mentionned it." She glances over at the daughter, who isn't following the conversation. She's occupied with either feeding or fending off Little Fang.

Cryo looks back, "This one sees all colours, even in night and dark sight, though they change from what they are in the light."

She shrugs a little, causing another startled motion from the pain. She exhales carefully for a long time. "Blue, a light blue, is the colour of the sky on a nice day. Which won't help you much, but if you imagine a day you're enjoying, and how the sky seems, I reproduce that in my clothes in the hopes people will be inspired to feel they are enjoying the day when they look upon me."

She grins, "And snow is very cool. And cold."

"Normal for siverscales? I could not tell you, but I don't believe it is. I am fairly certain that it is fortunately, or unfortunately in my case unique to myself, as I am fairly certain that Durrankar was gesturing to things I could not see. And I would certainly hope that the Silver Empress does not have to view the world as I do." Seyardu explained, looking around. "I could not even tell if he was silver, I only noticed the way light reflected off of his scales."

"That sounds pleasant though, a feeling of a good day linked to a color like that. It wouldn't hurt to use colors that would make people feel more at ease approaching myself."

"Ah," Cryosanthia says, nodding slowly, speaking with some hesitation. "Then, I should say, this one is a white scale, like a Snow or Ice dragon would be, colourless and brutal. Little Fang is closest to a red, though she's more the colour of a kind of flower. 'Lily' is her tradespeak name."

And hearing her name, one of them, Little Fang comes over and hugs around one of Cryosanthia's legs. She stares up, chomping away at the 'candy meat' bacon.

"So, for Little Fang I hope they think of flowers and not dragons. This one will think about colours for you, that remind of good things."

She gestures off in the distance, "Let me show you the Shaman tents, then this one shall seek out Un'eth. Mictlan is not large but finding people can take some time." Reaching down, she picks up Little Fang and holds her in her arms, showing the way.

Seyardu says, "That sounds like a good comparison. Though I will think in the future, until I can figure out something to compare you to rather than a brutal dragon. And I will offer prayers for you, even if your own beliefs waver. They have worked for me in the past." she replied with a smile between Cryosanthia and the child latched onto her leg, before following to the tents.

"I have taken up enough of both of your time, but I thank you and Durrankar for all I learned today. I feel knowing this place, and the people around here, I can face those I find in the city with more confidence.""

They head off.

In memory of Liana Lavoie, who passed away today 8 years ago.

Dramatis Personae

Cryosanthia
Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.

Her clothing is various ensembles. At times she wears a layered robe, a mithril swashbuckling outfit, kilted leather, a loincloth, or nothing. The colours inevitably mirror her own. Brilliant white with shimmering blue highlights, piping and whorls. Snowflakes and dragon-eyes are a common motif.

Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She grew into herself under the Queen of Endless Winter, and struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.

Seyardu
While not as physically imposing as many others of her kind, Seyardu still towers over most regardless. The sith-makar is covered in bright silver scales, with almost metallic, silvery eyes that are usually found in what looks like an appraising squint. Two long, ridged horns curve forward on their face, and a long tail trails slightly on the ground, keeping them balanced. Usually they are seen in town with simple, plain clothes, a simple vest and accompanying gray skirt. A large rucksack is usually slung over her back with most of her worldly posessions, with a large wooden shield, well used but completely bare, save for a rough dark black painting of a dragon's head.

Sjach
This male sith-makar stands at an even seven feet tall, though is considerably longer from tail tip to muzzle. He carries himself with noble grace, not as bulky as many of his kind but possessed of a lean, well-toned physique suited to swimming and running.

His scales are two tone, emerald green and shiny on much of his body, though his belly and chest are charcoal grey and matte. He has Amber eyes, his pupils vertical slits, and possesses translucent horizontal nictating membranes in addition to eyelids, which sometimes open and close independently.

He has ridges of bony spines, which begin above his nostrils, following the contours of his muzzle, framing the top of his eyes, and increasing in length as they crest his head, before merging into a single ridge that runs the length of his spine all the way to the tip of his tail.

He wears a simple unadorned breastplate of burnished bronze, which protects him from throat to hips. He has a length of rope coiled diagonally across his chest, and a quiver hanging from his hip. In more civilised climes, he can usually be found wearing a pair of simple burlap breeches, though tied at the digitigrade knees to leave his clawed feet bare.

Durrankar
Standing 7 feet tall, this sith-makar has dull silver scales running all over his body. He has horns arcing over the back of his head, and tendrils underneath of the horns, earfins framing the tendrils. He has light blue eyes, and is almost constantly breathign out mist from his nostrils...except in cold weather.

He wears numerous tiger skins upon his form and typically carries a walking stick, with his tail sometimes dragging along the ground when he stands fully upright, or just off the ground when hunched over.