View source for Bread and Ancestors

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*Title: Bread and Ancestors
*Emitter: Seldan
*Characters: Seldan, Azog, Ezil, Cryosanthia, Kira, Caim
*Place: A10: Temple District
*Time: Saturday, February 29, 2020, 1:58 PM
*Summary: Seldan and Azog are working out in the temple district when Ezil and Cryosanthia come by on business. Kira is leaving the Healer's temple with some fresh food. Azog and Kira discuss charity, and who deserves it, after Kira gives out some free bread and stew. Cryosanthia is curious about Seldan's sword, and wants to talk with it. The Paladan acquieses, and the sith quizzes the ancestors in the weapon about their experience and perspective while they seem fascinated that a lizard is talking to them. Caim arrives, and the acts of ancestors shifts to Azog's. Azog speaks about their deaths. Cryosanthia speculates what everyone present would be like in the future, if they were weapons, and Caim discusses the devices he currently uses to make himself better in battle. People have things to do, and wander off, and Cryo promises to look for Azog at the colosseum to try his machine out again.</div>

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The air of solemn, heavy divinity in the area is often broken by laughter. The dual presence of the deities Althea and Daeus, man and wife, stand towards the center, with their children and their children's temples positioned around them. The presence of the divine is felt not only by their temples, but also by the actions of their worshipers. The great plaza is as a social center, paved in brilliant, white flagstones and covered in benches and sitting areas. Priests, acolytes, and servicefolk of all stripes roam the plaza, going from one task to the other.
 
At the front of the temples of Daeus and Althea, at the Plaza's centermost point, rests a great fountain, the cheerful waters reflecting the Sun during the day, and the Moon and Stars at night. The fountain is strategically centered, and is oft a place for wisdom and lesson-giving. It is not uncommon for a priest of some stripe or the other to stand there, surrounded by the curious and faithful, delivering messages of hope or contemplation. At other times, it and the plaza become a landscape of celebration of the holy holidays.
 
Few vendors are seen in the plaza--the nearby temples provide most food or services. Towards the west, the great Bridge stretches across the river, and towards the east, the Redridge mountains. The plaza rests in the midst of it all, the temples massive and grand on the Alexandrian scale. 

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

<pre>-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Red-blonde Eldanar man wearing Eluna's colors and symbol.
Azog         7'0"     350 Lb     Orc               Male      A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot.
Ezil         5'11"    175 Lb     Human             Male      An armored man with dark skin, and grey-blonde hair.
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.
Kira         5'0"     120 Lb     Human             Female    A young blonde woman wearing simple robes.
Caim
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=</pre>

Finally, some decent weather. The sun shines brightly, the day is warmer than it has been, and Seldan had apparently decided to take his daily workout outside. Now finished, he strides across the Temple plaza and past the fountain, clad only in sweat-drenched shirt, trousers, and boots, his swordbelt in his hand. His hair is held out of his face by a thin silver headband.

Azog is also just finishing his workout, which generally tends to be outdoors regardless of weather. He, too, is over by the fountain, where a cupped hand full of water is poured over his mostly-bare scalp. Unlike Seldan, though, Azog works out in full armor. Fight like you train, train like you fight. "Good afternoon," he calls to Seldan.

Ezil walks today, having the company of a white Sith-Makar. They are talking as they walk south toward the temple plaza, Ezil's laugh heard first. He's shaking his head at something, though his words soon can be heard. "I was rather amused with meeting, Poc.... but his issue does bother me a bit. I have not heard of these 'red' cloaks." the man in the middle of a conversation with Cryosanthia. "I hope he finds what he's looking for."

"You mean Goblintown?" Cryo laughs, "He seems nice. I think he needs some help, amd Merek gave him a map. It should work out. Oh you were right, there is Seldan. And Azog."

She calls out loudly, "Peace on your nest Seldan, Hello Azog!"

Kira exits from The Healer's temple, basket slung over her shoulder and an iron kettle carried in hand. A smile is her other notable accessory, not counter the scents of fresh bread and hot stew that waft along with her.

"Fair day, Azog," Seldan greets in response to the oruch, changing his direction to seat himself on the edge of the fountain, one booted foot on its edge, the other dangling off, the sword coming to rest on the stone beneath him although still in one hand. "A fine day for some time spent at ...." Before he finishes the thought, someone calls out, and he looks up. "And upon yours." The answer is more automatic, his eyes still roaming and taking a moment to lock on Cryosanthia and Ezil.

Azog nods a greeting as Cryosanthia calls out. "Hello!" He peers at Ezil, glances over at Kira. To Seldan, he replies, "Yes, the weather has turned nice," he agrees. "Hopefuly winter is done with us for another year," he says, then snorts at himself. "I am turning more Alexandrian by the day. This was nothing like winter up in Dran," he explains. "I think the city has made me weak."

Ezil nods to Cryosanthia, smiling when she hails Seldan, and gets a response. "Well it was a good guess then." smirking as he notes Azog with a subtle nod in greeting. It's that fresh bread and Kira who gets his next glance, dipping his head in greeting to the woman too. "Ma'am." his tone soft as he pauses near the fountain. "I find the longer I am here, the more it feels like home... and the charm wears off." musing to Azog as he hooks a thumb in his swordbelt.

"My sympathies Azog, your home must be rough. Am'shere has some challenges but I've never run into as many there as here. Or such cold weather. Solid water is such a treat!" Cryosanthia says, although there might be some natural adaptations in play. She waves at Kira, not recognizing her, and makes a small curtsey, "Peace on your nest, I'm Cryosanthia, a Speaker of the Sith Makar."

She sits on the edge of the fountain so she can look around, and lets her tail hang over into it.

Kira's smile widens as she approaches the fountain, and those at it. "Hello! Is anyone hungry?" The basket of bread and kettle of stew are for the hungry, afterall. She dips her head to the Sith, and the familiar greeting, if not greeter, "Peace on yours, as well."

"Or stronger," Seldan points out reasonably. "Doubtless your ancestors well knew the winter that is Dran, but I doubt they knew so well the summer that is Alexandria. Each place holds its challenges, does it not? Or so I am told." He leans his forearm on the upturned knee, but only for a moment as Kira arrives with food. "You are kind indeed, and I will not say you nay. I trust that the day finds all of you well?"

Azog shrugs about his home being rough. "Challenging," is the word he suggests. "Similar to how AmShere is challenging, though more for cold and villains and less for trackless jungle filled with jaguars." He'll accept Kira's offer of food, taking a loaf of bread and biting into it. He peers at Seldan, but says, "You speak truly, it does not get as muggy in Dran as it does down here. Each region has it's peculiarities."

Ezil raises a hand to decline Kira's offer. "It is kind, but I broke fast already." keeping his smile, and seeming to delight in the smells. "Fresh bread the best scent, and tempting it is." glancing to Cryosanthia, and noting her introduction to Kira. "I am Ezil, Sentinel, and All-Friend. It's a pleasure." following suit, and shifting on his feet to regard the others. "So we'll go from cold to sweltering soon enough I'm hearing?"

"Oh yes!" The sith-makar leans forward, grinning widely with a mouth full of sharp teeth, a gesture that says 'hungry' very effectively. She eagerly holds out a hand to take a loaf. She breaks off bits of it, as if feeding pigeons, very large pigeons, and pops them in her mouth instead. There's a swallow and little chewing.

"The jaguars are nasty. They still give me nightmares." Break piece, bite, swallow.

"Seldan, can I talk with your sword? Everyone in there sounds really neat. I thought I could do something nice for it too while I'm talking so I brought along some polish so I ..." She stops speaking. She has a strange expression, familiar to any polyglots, where she's comparing what she imagines she's saying to the words she's chosen to do so. She is frozen in place, holding a broken off loaf piece, while her head rocks from left to right. "I think the translation has multiple meanings. So I can't say."

Kira happily hands out the small, fresh loaves from the basket to any who wish. "I have stew, also," she adds. After a moment, she blinks and realizes she overlooked manners. "Oh! I'm sorry." She dips in an abbreviated curtsey. "My name is Kira, Sentinel in service to The Healer. I do hope that the season will change soon. So many go cold and hungry in the lean months."

Seldan, too, takes part of a loaf, transferring it to his other hand. "The stew would be welcome. Yes, summer here on the water is hot and stifling," he tells Ezil, but Cryosanthia's request seems to take him aback. He lays the back of the hand holding the bread on the scabbard, surprised. "You wish to speak with ...." 

The sword seems to be much more amenable, though. "Someone wants to speak with us? We can hear you well." The nasally older woman is first to speak, but a chorus of agreement follows close on its heels. There is one objection, though, the irascible old man. "And who ... what ... are we supposed to be speaking to?"

Azog peers at Ezil, but nods. "It is so," he agrees about the sweltering. "Though a bit less oppressive than in Am'Shere. There is breeze here that you don't get in close jungle." He nods about the jaguars being nasty, too. He blinks at Cryo wanting to polish Seldan's sword, but assumes it's just his own Tradespeak being poor. He says to Kira, "If they are cold and hungry, then they have done so willingly. The Temple of Garganos Behemoth," he uses the Dran name for Angoron, "turns none away." They -do- put people to work, though, and pretty hard work, which makes it one of the less popular temples to go begging at.

Ezil nods his head to Kira's words, letting out a sigh. "It's not just here. I saw the poor and destitute in Tref. It's been a rough winter. Too many demons causing trouble, and the children are the one's who are paying." something in his tone shifting. A dour note, though he forces his smile. "It will get better, and the Temples do their share. If you ever need a hand, I don't cook, but I have a vardo that can haul." offering his services. 

To Cryosanthia, Ezil raises a brow, her words sparking a question, but one he doesn't ask. He simple watches the exchange between her, Seldan, and that sword.

The sith-makar leans towards the sword in Seldan's scabbard. Her half eaten loaf held in her lap. She addresses the last, the irascibly old man. "Hello, I'm Cryosanthia, a Speaker of the Sith-Makar. I talk with people, and I'm probably a lizardpeople to you. You can't see, I guess, like Munch's Reaper? So, I'm taller than Seldan, nearly a whole foot, and heavier... fifty pounds. Yes, fift pounds, and I have white scales. Do you remember what years you were alive in, and where?"

She also makes a quick smile at Kira, "I would love stew."

Finally another nod with Ezil and an exhale, too many demons. "Oh, hot and a breeze? That will be something to look forward to. Much better than watching moss and mildew grow."

Kira blinks at the talking sword, and conversation with it. She feels obliged to at least say hello, but also doesn't want to interrupt. Instead, she nods to Ezil, "Yes, there are hungry everywhere, and not all are able to work," she adds to Azog, "but I am grateful that many temples help, however they feel they should." The offering by Ezil brightens her smile, as well. "Thank you! That would be very helpful."

Without a word, and with a suddenly impassive expression, Seldan sets aside the loaf of bread on his knee and draws the blade from its scabbard. It is finely made, in an out-of-date style, without being ostentatious, although half a dozen tiny gemstones are threaded into the wrapping around the hilt. 

"Seldan, it's all right," the nasally female voice says. "We don't mind, and we can see you perfectly well, dear. Thank you, that does help." 

As for the irascible old man, he answers, a little testily. "Yes, I can see you just fine," he agrees. "But I've never seen a sith-makar. You look like a lizard."

"KANIAN! For the love of the gods, can't you be polite for -once-?" That's the nasally female again. 

"Both of you, please." A third voice, a contralto woman, chimes in. "Cryosanthia, forgive this lot. We are of different times, and we .... disagree on occasion."

Azog falls silent as Ezil discusses carrying food in his wagon and Cryo talks with Seldan's sword. He nods to Kira about not everyone being able to work. "That's so. But many do not that could." Then he watches Seldan's sword arguing with itself. "I can fix that for you," he whispers to Seldan.

"This is true, Azog. However it is not for us to judge. What might be seen a laziness might also be something else. I try not to judge those I come across." Ezil's soft tone given, but he shrugs. "There are always fakes, and liars, but the world takes all sorts. An act of kindness can often sway the heart." pausing then, and casting a glance to Cryosanthia. "Well... except Jerboba. I've come to understand that was pretty much a lost cause. Though an oath... is an oath."

"Yes! I do look like one, it's ok." Cryosanthia says, swishing her tail behind her, and nodding, "It must be difficult, each remembering the same places, differently. You have a painting in time of everything. Do you discuss how this led to that, how what you might have feared did or didn't happen? Did Seldan explain everything he's come to know? You must all together have a fantastic perspective on how things changed. So there is Kanian, well met! Do you all have different ways to say hello?"

She seems engrossed, perhaps she is managing to track the discussion of work and charity, although it's not likely. She seems to have forgotten her bread and the bowl of stew she asked for. She does repeat, "An oath is an oath," however.

This time, it is the elderly woman who speaks. "I was Fallia in life. You may hear also Golain, and you have heard Tisa already." 

"That is so," the contralto woman agrees. "There are others, but I think Zainrew has fallen silent for now, and some have not yet acknowledged Seldan. That will come." 

"I cannot say that we have discussed such, among us. In truth, we have slept for ... some time. The one thing that we all hold in common is that young Seldan is our descendant." Fallia takes back over the explanation. "He has said much, and we hear what is said to him. So long as he keeps to the path of his ancestors, and opposes the denizens of the Hells, we will aid him as we can. I cannot say that we fully understand all that we have seen, here in this place, and none of us have seen Bryn Myridorn since last we woke. He doesn't always listen to us."

Still loosely holding the blade in one hand, Seldan rescues the bread balanced on his knee, and leans in to listen to Azog, peering at him curiously. "What have you in mind?"

Azog gives Ezil a kind of primitive look that implies he feels he's entirely suitable to judge who's slacking and who's not. He listens to Cryosanthia talking with the voices in the sword, eyes Seldan, and puts a hand meaningfully on his adamantine earthbreaker. His solution implied, though hopefully not enough to get the attention of the sword. "Though if they are your ancestors," he says, unhanding the earthbreaker, "then perhaps you do not wish it."

Ezil nods to Azog's glance, looking away and moving to find himself a seat on the fountain's edge a bit away from Seldan. He goes quiet, mostly listening now to Cryosanthia and Seldan's sword as they discuss things. He gives up on trying to push at Azog. "It is a nice day." he does note, letting the topic drop.

"Peace on your nest, Fallia, and Tisa, and Golain if we have spoken and heard each other. I apologize Zainrew, if I'm not someone you would wish to discourse with. So..." Cryosanthia's tail curls in against one of her thighs, her fingers tapping on her bread. She breaks off another piece to eat, a swallow and respite turns to relentless and she dives back in, "...I honour my ancestors, but I'd be afraid to meet them. They might be disappointed. I might be. Mine... might not be pleasant. I don't fully understand softskin thought patterns but I would be greatly nervous to be watched and judged by ancestors. I think it's great that Seldan has you for advice and persepective, but I imagine it's difficult. And heh, I haven't understood half of what I've seen in Alexandria, so I completely understand you there. And who is Bryn Myridorn? This one apologizes, I have little schooling in important persons outside of my home. What might it mean that he sleeps or stays silent?"

Seldan swiftly answers Azog, with a silent and firm shake of the head. "It is an heirloom from my ancestors," he tells the oruch. "I will not see it harmed." He takes a bite of his bread with his other hand, listening in silence to the conversation with the sword he holds loosely between his hand and the fountain. Only at the last does he put in to Cryosanthia, "Bryn Myridorn is the capital of the Kingdom of the Lion and the seat of the High King of Myrddion, were there one," he explains quietly. "It is my home and from whence my family hails." 

"As he says," Fallia answers Cryosanthia as well. "He has thus far done well enough, unlike his brother Emerind. We would not have awakened for him, I think, just as we did not awake for Baram, and had no intention of doing so." 

Seldan looks up in surprise, and down at the blade, halfway through chewing.

Azog peers at Ezil, but lets the discussion drop. He'll take some soup from Kira, since she offered, though he'll offer a handful of silver as a donation. He knows the soup is free to those who need, but he's got coin, if not as much as he's used to having. He'll have to earn more quickly. To Cryosanthia, he says, "Meeting ancestors is not the same among all of us who you call softskins. My ancestors might aid me, but I would dishonor myself by asking them, and they may refuse for that reason, even if they were otherwise disposed to aid me. They certainly have their own issues without me pestering them. But human ancestors are different." He eyes Seldan, nods. He can, sort of, understand not wanting one's ancestors harmed. "I have seen other's swords which seemed to exist only to annoy. Yours, at least, seems reasonable."

"I know little about my ancestors. The Faring Folk keep stories, but I only know of my father, and his father. Before that it is a haze that has weaved it's way into the tales." Ezil notes with a pondering tone. "Though my great grandfather was married to a Phurai Dae, and she was supposedly beautiful among both people. She's the one who taught my family to navigate The Vast." shrugging, and looking back into the fountain, keeping himself occupied. "We are all different. Though that's what makes it fun."

Cryosanthia listens carefully to Azog, nodding slowly at his explanation of the oruch ancestors, their viewpoint, his viewpoint of them. It's not an unfamiliar perspective, particularly among Warrior Sith, about needing aid, looking weak, rendering it without making the other look dependant. Although she's sure she's missing a lot of the sentiment, she feels she's at least got an understanding to build on. "Thank you for the perspective Azog. I never considered that aspect."

The sith takes another bite of bread, "I was slipping into flights of fancy. There is a person, people, in there. That could be us in hundreds of years. You Azog, as a crushing and blunt Earthbreaker, wanting to tell your descendant to not choke up so much and put his or her back into it, but understanding the must do the work themselves. Or you Ezil, a blade so oathbound you could be barely drawn. I think I would be one of the annoying ones. I'd have to be a rapier or something flexible," She wriggles her tail as a demonstration, "and cleaned regularly. I'd be so unhappy if I was a lumbering greatsword. I would likely talk all the time."

She turns to Seldan, "This one is understanding, that your brother Emerind did not rise to their standards, and Baram... I sense there is something there. You should go on a pilgramage to Bryn Myridorn, to see, to know your roots."

<pre>GAME: Seldan rolls will: (11)+22: 33</pre>

"They reached out to me," Seldan explains simply, his eyes lowering. "It is said that the blade would wake for one it found worthy, a family legend. Emerind ..." He lets that fall silent. "Baram is my father, and dismissed the weapon as a wall ornament. In truth, when first it was given me, it was blunted as one." There is something he isn't saying. 

"Of course we're reasonable." Fallia remarks, as if Azog had said water was wet. "We have to be, or Seldan will ignore all of us and do as he pleases." 

"He will anyway, Fallia, and well you know it." Kanian pipes up again. "It isn't as if he listens to any of us unless he wants to." 

"A new voice pipes up, a gruff one with a khazadi sound to it. "You don't listen to much of anyone, either, Kanian. He gets it from you." 

"WHAT? Why, I never..." And the sword promptly erupts into what sounds like a cacophonous argument among at least half a dozen voices, none of whom are fully intelligible. 

Finally, Seldan steps in. "ENOUGH." The argument promptly turns on him, and he's just become involved, but it does not last long. Finally, the sword subsides, and he sheathes it for good measure with a *snap*.

Azog nods approvingly to Ezil, who knows the stories of his ancestors. "My greatfathers were hunters and herders," he explains. "No stories of great wonder, though I have an uncle that was killed fighting a bear, and my grandfather was killed by a mountain lion. Two other uncles killed in duels." He hrmphs at Cryosanthia, and says, "If my grandsons need me to teach them how to fight, then they have failed, and I would not let them dishonor my name by pulling them along." He peers at Seldan as he ends the discussion, and he nods approvingly.

"Whats this an oruchs not knowing how to fight? Someone call the clergy, it is one of the end times. Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria!" Caim says as he looks to Cryosanthia. "So what are we talking about, Seldan's magic sword which has split personality syndrome?"

Ezil looks up to Azog. "Your family is.... full of tough ones, huh?" surprise in his tone, and smiling once more. "The duels are interesting history. No, that's a lie. It's all interesting. Fighting a bear?! Did that happen on accident, or did the fight get picked?" yes, those are not uninteresting stories. More the opposite. "Azog, maybe your grandsons don't need you to teach them. Maybe ..." his words ceased as he notices Caim, and sighing as he mentions Seldan's sword. "It's a marvelous thing, but as when you have too many in a confined space. It can be volatile?" glancing to Seldan then. "I find them as Cryosanthia does. Interesting. I would of liked to of met my ancestors."

"Yes. This one caused an Argument. Apologies Seldan, and Seldan's ancestors. I think Peace be upon your Scabbard would be a better greeting for you." The white-scale sith says. She nods to Azog, semi-understanding.

"I forget which one you prefer Caim. Peace or Hello."

"You caused no such thing," Seldan smiles at Cryosanthia, an expression meant to be reassuring. "They ... are oft at odds." His eyes lower again. "I ... hear more than just they, at times. I know some by name. Others by purpose, and I suspect that some know me as well. I can but strive to be worthy of it ... though I do not always understand." He studies the bread in his hand, not yet looking up at Caim. "Mine ... have done many things. I took the time to learn of it, when first I sought to understand whence came my magic."

Azog peers at Caim, and says, "And I agree that is an unlikely thing as well." He says to Ezil, "The bear was hugry and came to my uncle's tent and slashed it apart. My uncle fought the bear long enough that the alarm could be raised, and the bear was killed finally. My grandfather was hunting in the mountains, and a lion decided he wanted the deer more, and my grandfather was not going to give up his prize. We did not find his body for weeks, but the deer and my grandfather had been picked clean by lions by then." He shrugs. "But none of that bears on much, down in the city. All the bears and lions belong to uppity druids."

Ezil nods slowly to Azog, his tone dropping. "Condolences then. Brave men, all of them." though yes, that's another topic he is going to drop for now. It was interesting, but not in the way he had been thinking. More gruesome. "I haven't met many of the druids. 
Actually, I don't think I have met one at all. An archer, but... no. No denizens of the forest." thinking on the thought for a moment.
Cryosanthia listens quietly to Azog's stories. She wants to say something, but can't conceive what. Her tail slowly drops to lie behind her, and she scratches absently as her forearm. There's probably a joke in there too! She opens her mouth... no, Cryo no! She closes it again. "Yes, not many bears or lions in the city. The men sound, very determined."

She turns to Seldan, "Well, this one can help with negotiations, if you see the need."

"Either works for me." Caim says with a smile to Cryosanthia. "Come on folks, lighten up. Today is a good day." He says as he looks to the others and he looks to Azog. "Dont worry point break, considering oruchs like fighting I think your grandsons will know how to fight...If nothing else they will be as charming as you are." He then looks to Ezil= My ancestors werent that great to be honest. Long long lineage of snarkiness and calculating intelligence." He says with a shrug.

"A fine example to live up to," Seldan agrees with Cryosanthia, still looking at the bread in his hand. "Your offer is kind, and I shall remember it should I find the need. I cannot say that I have gotten to know druids, myself, although I have traveled with them at times." Picking up the sword in its scabbard, he hefts himself off of the fountain. "For now, though, I should return to my studies. Perhaps if you would learn more, we can talk later."

Azog says to Ezil, "They died with honor, and all were ... well, my age, more or less." Which is getting old, among orcs. "Do not grieve. That was how they wanted to go, not taken too early, nor by dishonorable means. If I am killed in battle, I will make my way to the realm of Garganos Behemoth and feast and fight at his side forever." Caim just gets a nod. "If they grow to men and do not know how to fight, I may kill them myself," he says.

Ezil stands as Seldan makes his departure, waving to the man. "I... have matters I must attend myself. That reminded me." turning to Cryosanthia, and offering a shrug. "I don't dare leave Jerboba alone too long." offering a firm nod to Azog and Caim. "It is a good way to go, but I hope to at least make it to have some grey in my hair." which is... redundant. His blonde hair is already sun-bleached white. No one would notice.

Cryosanthia waves as Seldan departs, then Ezil. Her gaze returns to Azog and Caim. To the oruch she says, "It's a good ending, a strong conclusion to their life's story, something they would be proud of, and you are. It almost begs, 'What is the best death', which I have no idea. I'd like mine to have some worth, I think, not something stupid like falling down a hole or getting hit by a brick during a bread riot."

The lizard turns her head over to Caim, "Do you have any thoughts on this?"

"Growing up, I have seen old men trying to fight and be unable to make it on the battlefield. I have also seen children be armed because they had no other men to battle for them. In the end, if I have to have a choice, I would rather die in combat, not on my knees." Caim says as he watches the woman. "Everything I create, gives me an advantage on the battlefield." He says with a nod.

"One thing the oruchs dont take advantage of is just because your old doesnt mean your worthless. Strategy and wisdom comes from the elderly. Sometimes the biggest and baddest warrior is the one has survived all his battles."

Azog nods, bids farewell to Ezil. For those that know what to look for, the twenty-something oruch -is- getting old. For an orc. He nods to Cryosanthia, and agrees, "They were good ends. Or as good as one can expect. Not crippled by age or done in by mischance. Mirth," he uses the Dran name for Tarien, "will spin crueler tricks on us with each passing year. But a hungry lion is better than a falling brick." He nods at what Caim says. "I would take that choice as well." He can only shrug about taking advantage of elders. "When age takes you at 45, there is not much chance to be elderly."

Cryosanthia nods. She doesn't know what to look for to tell an aged Oruch. Perhaps that will come in time. She ends up looking at the Temple of Tarien, smiling a little, then looking back. "I should be wary of a cruel joke too. I would prefer a funny one."

She exhales, "Have you thought to go to help out the goblins with their Airship? It may be drawing battles, worthwhile ones. And it is possible to get into the ruins... although that increases the chance for a bad joke, I think."

Cryo tells Caim, "Advantages are good. I tend towards relying on skills and not things, but a well made weapon can't be discounted."

Azog says to Cryosanthia, "The goblins do not need me. They do as they will without regard for what may happen, and I cannot help them when they do that. If they asked, I would help, but I do not expect them to ask. The small races in general pay little regard to honor at the best of times."

"That's true. What about the Arvec Nar, they're more organized, revel in it." Cryo coils her tail about, "It's a complicated situation. I will let you know if I hear anything more. My friends seem desperate to explore Merkabah, or a Plane of Water. I wonder at their minds sometimes."

Azog peers at exploring a plane of water. "Tell them to jump in the river," he suggests. As to the hobgoblins in Merkahbah, he says, "There is a bit more honor in them than in the small ones. I would aid them as well, if they ask. But they rely too much on plans and charts and flags and not enough on spirit and gumption."

Cryo makes a small bow towards Azog, "I have to get to some things. I'll come by the colosseum, I want to see if I've gotten any better. I've been practicing in Mictlan. Enjoy the day!" She waves, as she heads out.

{{LineSkulls|300px}}

[[Category:Logs|Bread and Ancestors]]