Naming Day

This Meetup celebrated a sith-makar Naming day for several hatchlings.

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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 ceremonial pyre. 

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. The sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse.

EXTRAS: +view                                 

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Jibbom          Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night.               3m   12m

Kojot           Toned half-orc of partial Veyshanti descent           1m   2h

Silmeria        A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and 4m   2d

Iuitl           Short sith, mottled black scales, tired green eyes    11m  23h

Durrankar       Silver Sith-makar with blue eyes                      6s   41m

Xiuhcoatl       Tall, lithe, savage looking blue scaled Sith-Makar ma 43s  23m

Renfrey         Half-elf with a black braid and short beard.          13m  1h

Ssylrath        Green lizardman, short and wide, with a Swiftclaw.    1m   49m

Svarshan        Demons: BBQ with Spice                                0s   1w

Cesran          A tall dark-skinned man                               4m   6m

Mikilos         Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.        2m   1h

Sandy           Sandy is wearing petticoats.                          2m   2d

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Naming Day Desc

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Through Woods <TW>        

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Naming Day Desc(#2138)

Today, Mictlan's dragonbone landscape is ready for festivities.

Above, colorful trinkets and warding symbols clatter in the wind. Mictlan's bones are decked in colors and its centre wreathed in Fire. The sacred space stands ready for celebration.

Its central Fire roars brightly, and is the center of social activity. A mixture of ages may be found here, and mixture of species. Local druids and shamans, a few others from the City...and many, many sith-makar all rub shoulders around the larger Fire, and many smaller ones. Several spits turn slowly with roasted meat. All ages of scaled children dash about. They leap and practice roars. They play-fight, and work to avoid the studious and sometimes stern gazes of their elders. They're dressed in simple rags or cloth, all brightly dyed for the occasion.

A Naming day.

A NAMING day.

So few days among the sith-makar are as bright or as celebrated. Solemn, sure. Firey. Angry. Today though, is a day for celebration, for the beginning of life and the triumph of the tribes over life's struggles. The proof that Life can survive. HAS survived.

The central Fire roars brightly, hilighting the bright colors and honor to Life and Ancestor. The smell of roast permeates the atmosphere, the laughter of children and the talk of adults paramount.

To the side, near-unseen, the flaps of the shamans' tents flutter. Occasionally, smoke escapes from where these vision-questers have been locked away for most of the morning. By tradition, by custom, they've been partaking of vision quests throughout the morning, to see what the future may hold for the tribes' newest members.

GAME: Cesran refreshes spells.

GAME: Cesran casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 15 DC: 19

GAME: Cesran casts Shield. Caster Level: 15 DC: 19

GAME: Cesran casts Protection From Energy. Caster Level: 15 DC: 21

Color? COLOR! Mictlan is in a rare mood, with decorations and color. Today, it celebrates Life, celebrates the tribes. Celebrates survival of a hatchling's first year.

And the sith-makar tribe hosting it, the Atoyaatl, are in a grand mood. Food is everywhere, so are fires. And Fire--the great, powerful column in the center of Mictlan.

Members of the Union are here, too. Mictlan was gifted from them to the druidic sith-makar for safekeeping. Here, their presence is probably due to that, and the Treaty, too. You know, the thing the Empress recently signed with Alexandria that bound sith and Alexandrians into recent alliance.

In any case, it's a varied crowd--made all the more so by the ribbons, the food, the bright colors. Trinkets with the symbols of various heroes, deities, and spirits tinkle overhead, and the atmosphere is loud with talk. It's almost impossible to be heard.

You might have to SHOUT!

Mikilos wanders slowly, taking in the various sights and sounds. The wizard hasn't done much for this event, spirituality isn't really his thing. But he certainly respects the occasion.

Renfrey is excersizing one of his most acomplished skills, one he has been training for all his life and has turned into an artform that few can duplicate. Some may consider it rude or uncouth but the rogue seems to care very little for the opinion of other as only as an intense desire drives him. Thats right, he's stuffing his face with food.

Of course Jibbom is here. The winged halfling is as energetic as ever, buzzing about and fully embracing the cheerful mood which pervades the day's events. "Citizens, behold!" He announces to no one in particular. "It is I! Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night, Alexandrian Hero! I am here to honor your ceremonies!"

Mikilos has partially disconnected.

A young woman, all of nineteen years, stands at five feet seven inches tall. Her blond hair and ocean-blue eyes, along with her pale complexion, gives her an almost ethereal quality. Treasured in the realms from which she hails, her beauty is of an uncommon nature, even as her figure remains a ways off from that of a fully-matured woman.

Godwyn is currently wearing something entirely different, as she is dressed in her temple's traditional garb. A Hearthguard's robes adorn her figure, along with white gloves and the crystal blue rose charm around her neck. The robes are silken, all light blue with silver scrollwork along the front side of the cassock and a pellegrina around her shoulders, the celestial emblem of the Evening Star sewn in silver on either side of the front. The fascia around her waist is lined with silver and decorated with roses in said same color, but the same robin's egg blue prevails in the background. Last but not least, the hood, worn on her head or not, completes the set with the same silver trim on the edge.

Among the crowd, a few members of the Union are here. One is announced by the fact that there's a tree following her. Ferawyn is watching from the Branches of said tree.....which is a pretty good spot.

"Pork! Owlbear!" one of the sith-makar, wearing the Empress' armband, roars from the side. She holds a shank aloft, the juices dripping and running downwards her arm. "Pork! Owlbear!"

Bright colors are everywhere, with trinkets and tokens marking different patrons, gods, and spirits.

The smoke from the shaman-tent continues to rise, though it has begun to thin. If asked, any of the tribe present will say it means the shamans are arriving towards a conclusion.

"Oooh, owlbear!" Jibbom eagerly accepts ome of the shank, biting into it greedily as soon as he gets a chance. "Mmm. Tastes like demon."

Ssylrath is standing off to one side, not really taking part in the festivities but observing with interest. He holds the half-cooked leg of some sort of large bird in one hand and eriodically tears off a chunk with his teeth. His expression is of wary curiosity.

Cesran coming walking up with his staff in hand on on top of his head he is wearing one of this baby sith-makar hats of Sandy's make. He nods politely to those that he knows and he hmms, "I'll take some pork please." He casts a spell and holds the meat with a mage hand so he doesn't get the grease on himself, but he does bring it up to eat some tearing some off in a primal manly sort of way.

Mikilos accepts a token of meat, but mostly just carries it. The thin elf isn't a big eater. He does ask a lot of questions, about what various trinkets mean, who made them, and things of that nature. He's curious.

She said she'd come. She'd promised.

Now she's here, but some may not recognize her from the fact that a hood is over her head. Then again, some may not recognize her from the fact that she's not wearing her armor, or her weapons. In fact, Godwyn Sylvan looks very much like a Hearthguard.

Althea's blue and silver covers almost every part of her besides a pair of travel boots. A pair of white gloves cover her hands, and the crystal blue rose charm on a mithral chain hands from the nape of her neck.

She takes in the usually somber scene turned festive, and grins. "All right, party time." She glances around for a moment, trying to spot someone she knows... and look, there's Ssylrath! Godwyn walks over and clears her throat. "Dragon's wings shelter, good knight. A good day for a Naming, huh?"

The blue sith-makar, Xiuhcoatl, stands out from the other sith. He keeps his arms crossed, moving amongst the shamans and other eyeing the preparations critically. He is suddenly aware of young sith underfoot and stiffens, tail twitching the right.

Aldean has disconnected.

Renfrey is ear deep into a haunch of owlbear as he approaches Cesran, grease smeared across his face "Ever been to one of these before? You know the naming whatzits... thing. Hope they get good names, like Renfrey."

Ssylrath nods a greeting to Godwyn gravely. "Peace on your Nessst, Godwyn. I do home that you enjoy yourssself, that seems to be part of the idea." He looks bemusedly around at the partying. "Not quite the way it was for usss..."

Myrana is very happily walking with Mikilos, eating one of those skewers of liberally slathered with chimchurri. Dressed in bright blue with her copper jewelry polished up bright and sparky, she cheers. "Tiny peepy babies!" She's been saying: "Yessss"

Sandy is here! Of course she's here. She's also giving Myrana the stink eye because she's Myrana. She's had herself a seat, though, and appears to be waiting. She smoots her Myranaesque dress. That' the reason for the stink eye.

The smoke near the shamans' tent continues to thin. Yet, it has not ceased. It will, soon.

As it does, several of the tribe elders lift baskets and begin to go among you. One of them stops near Cesran and Renfrey, as one of the hosts is handing out the pork. She waits until the vendor is done, before speaking up.

"Here. It will sshow honor if you accept thiss," one says. She holds a wood-trinket up towards the two men. "Etch a hatchling'ss name on it, when the Names are given. We will toss them into the Fire at the end."

A few other aged scarleg follow suit, whispering words in broken trade. The trinkets are primarily of wood, and carved with simple care. They come with bits of charcoal for marking.

A few of the softskins are eyed uneasily, but the trinkets get passed out.

"Owlbear!" goes one of the hosts, again. Jibbom is given several. Xiuhcoatl and Ssylrath several more.

...a lot, actually.

Crow has arrived.

Jibbom is quite happy to gobble down all the owlbear he is fed. His bottomless stomach lives up to the legend, at least. Same for his utter lack of table manners.

Mikilos grins. "I am curious what Names will be given. The etymology I can follow, but the cutural relivances remain beyond me..." He accepts a wood trinket, peering carefull at the offered charcoal, idly curious if it's significant as well.

Myrana swallows the bite of owlbear she had in her mouth only after sort of full-mouthedly going 'wor foky' in assent and accepting the stick. Shit! CHEW CHEW CHEWWWW.

Renfrey accepts the trinket happily, looking at it as he twirls it between his finger. "In the fire? Seems like a strange thing but I am sure it means something important."

Godwyn takes in a breath. "...So I've heard." Her smile fades just enough. "This is a good thing though, I think. Levity in the face of adversity. There's plenty enough of the second and not enough of the first." She glances over her right shoulder as one of the elders makes her way toward her. "Thank you, Honored One." She takes a trinket and places it around her neck as well. Then she turns her attention back to Ssylrath. "I'm glad you're here all the same. So... where is Svarshan?"

Myrana tries to figure out what to do with her meat skewer, which takes up one too many hands.

Svarshan and Vthria wait anxiously near the shamans' tent. They pace and watch. Svarshan takes one of the owlbear festivities, and turns it over in his hands.

Crow comes in, looking practically healthy now. The glow that his skin normally has is back, the dark circles under his eyes are gone, and he barely has to lean on the staff at all. The horse doesn't accompany him this time. The little ferret, however, rides happily on his shoulder, curious nose sniffing at everything, beady eyes sweeping around the clearing, only occasionally diving into the man's cloak hood.

The little druid nods politely to those he passes, moving easily through the crowd of people, making his way over to Svarshan slowly, giving the sith a bright smile. "Blessings upon you, friend."

Myrana finally just pushes her skewer into the hand of a passerby, tugs off one glove by biting delicately at the fingertips, and holding the stick up starts writing something with the tip of one sooty black finger.

Cesran moves off to the side and he happily eats the pork that he can. His staff looks around, "So what's the big deal with the naming." Cesran hmms, "It's an important tradition I would expect you to respect if. If not for tradition you would not be here."

Xiuhcoatl is still around some of the other sith. He takes the tokens but doesn't etch them. Instead, he checks the meat, wanders over to the drinks and other hospitality. Taking a moment, he hisses at a young sith-makar who is having trouble getting meat out to the guests. The young one nearly drops the meat as he snarls a warning, getting the young sith on his way.

Aldean has connected.

Sandy, of course, is taking the time to see about marking one herself. She's got a few name ideas of her own, and she wants to submit them for approval! Also while glaring at Myrana.

Silmeria takesp aldean=:has frozen and not even posed in. >.< So many people.

Myrana feels Sandy's glare on her back and gets a cold shudder without knowing /why/.

Xiuhcoatl takes a moment to glance around at people he knows. There is a nod quickly to others he recognizes. His tail flicks to the left twice, eyeing the crowd.

Unusually backgrounded and quiet for him, Aldean's sitting off to one side amid the gathering, but his easy good humor is very much in place -- he seems content to listen and to watch for the most part, drinking in the sights, smells, and sounds of a wholly unfamiliar, ritual place. He does wear armor, and bears signs of recent travel; his adventuring gear, however, has been courteously left at the edge of the clearing as a nod to the peace of the place and the gathering.

"With thankss," Svarshan replies. He has to pause, to gether his words. It's a big event for them. A BIG event! He thumps his tail just after Vthria, the two of them...almost in unison. Almost, but not quite. "And Dragon'ss wingss shelter. Thank you for. Coming. We--"

The smoke ceases.

A leanly muscled sith-makar shaman moves to take the stage. Her arms and legs marked with scars; scars hang as ropes, thick and heavy. She raises them for silence. "NAMING! Today, we call upon the Ancestors to quicken the Blood, to welcome our newest lives into our tribe!" She goes quiet for a moment...and then thumps her tail once, the muscle hitting the earth like a great, heady drum.

The flap of the tent opens. Smoke emerges, but also several figures holding smaller ones--each shaman carries one, sometimes two hatchlings a piece. The hatchlings cough and rub at their faces as the smoke clears--they also stare at you. Yes, you, eyes wide and unsure at this strange new world in front of them.

"Sshamans! We part the ssmoke, we welcome you! Hatchlingss, we prepare the Fire, we welcome you! Come now and among uss!"

The beat of the drums begin. Drum, tail, and stick--anything the tribesfolk can grab onto.

"I have no idea," Myra admits to Mikilos once she's done. Then she leans over and tries to get a peek at the stick he's written on.

Ssylrath takes his wooden token, refusing more than one. He holds it in one hand, hidden from view, and watches what everyone else is doing, particularly the Shamans and hatchlings at the front.

Godwyn glances toward the commotion... and falls silent as the shamans speak. She places a hand on her chin for a moment and glances toward her stick... before carving a name on it. She too keeps hers hidden from others. The smile returns in full bloom, not the half-measure she'd given Ssylrath.

Sitting next to Aldean, Silmeria seems to have found another use for the gown she'd worn to the ball. Gray patterned silk, bustled skirts, all in terrible danger of being ruined by the setting, and her spirits are so high she simply doesn't care. Turning over the wood token in her hands, she leans in to whisper to the bard. "This is really quite exciting, you know... I'm usually only present for the other end." As the shamans exit the lodge, she perks up, eyes bright and watching closely.

That's when she realizes it:

OH NO.

Myrana looks at Mikilos' blank stick and then back at her stick, which has a name on it. And that name is 'Strong Big Teeth' in trade. Hurriedly, she hides it behind her back as the shaman begins speaking.

Mikilos watches intently. None of his books have any details on the actual events of a Sith Naming Ceremony. That will be corrected by tomarrow.

Kojot goes OOC.

Kojot has left.

Cesran smiles as Ral-sara huff a bit and then the staff leans forward as the hatchlings come out, "Oh they are so cute, look at them Cesran." He nods, "Hey are adorable." He starts to gently tap the staff's end against the ground.

Sandy just /glares/ at Myrana. Just glares! And then she moves toawrds Svarshan. She moves over towards him and just gives him a /look/.

"Svar," she says.

Tump. Tumptump. Tump. Tumptump.

The sound grows louder as Durrankar walks slowly out of the tent, and the smoke, and the sound that is being made, is from him hitting the end of his staff on the ground. As more of him can be seen, it can be seen that he's hitting the staff once, then twice on the ground, then passing it to his other hand, before repeating the same rhythm.

Once out of the smoke, Durrankar doesn't give out any names.....for he steps to the side of the tent entrance.....

and waits.

Although Aldean flashes Silmeria a good-natured grin, he doesn't answer immediately, looking up as the shaman's speak. Unconsciously, one of his feet begins to tap -- not in the actual pattern of the drums, but in the tempo behind it. His small hand drum sits by his feet, but he doesn't pick it up yet, to join in.

Damn these fashionably buttoned sleeves! Why oh why did she have the tailor make them so nicely fitted?! Myrana tries to get the stick up one sleeve at the wrist from behind the small of her back but fails miserably while watching the proceedings with a sort of desperate, manic intensity.

Jibbom is unusually quiet and respective, beyond the annoying intermittent flapping of his wings. Perhaps he's actually interested in seeing the ceremony unfold. Or perhaps his mouth is just too stuffed with owlbear meat to jabber on like normal.

Renfrey watches with a wide grin. Its all very mystical and magical and he has no idea whats going on. None the less he carves a name into the end of his stick, surely it will be something good and not Renfrey Jr.

The blue sith carves into his tokens with a dark talon. His arms fall to his side, cracking his nexk to the side as he moves into the crowd towards the guests, offering a moment for guidance and answers to quick questions.

Crow takes one of the sticks, writing down a name on it in a neat and elegant hand, tucking it into his cloak for now. But as the shamans come out and begin the ceremony, the little druid falls quiet, stepping back and observing the ceremony.

Tump. Tumptump. Tump. Tumptump.

The same rhythm, from a weaker source. Coming from the tent is Iuitl, who is dressed in ragged fur skirts and a fairly tribal top. Her feathers are painted red, and she has red and ashen Draconic symbols decorating anywhere her scales are visible. Her wrists and ankles are decorated with trinkets, and the head of her longspear is decorated with an arrangement of crude trinkets representing the Sith-Makar gods. This is not a modest occasion. She dressed like a proper shaman from the jungles for this, as opposed to her incredibly subdued attire.

She takes up a position opposite of Durrankar, on the other side of the tent entrance. Her green eyes gaze out at the crowd of Sith and softskins, passively observing from her short vantage point.

Silently.

Mikilos tsks softly, and smiles, calmly taking the trinket from the flustered Myrana. Absently wipeing it with his fingertips, he hands back the perfectly clean and unmarked item. "Don't worry, I'm sure a bit of owlbear grease wouldn't have been a problem. Now be still, you're distracting."

Wizards.

Svarshan looks over, and thumps his tail in welcome at the sildanyari. He steps back, making room for her to see. He and Vthria are tense. Tails quiver. ...then hit the earth as the final shaman emerges!

Myrana freezes... but oh right, its just charcoal. Probably she should have thought of that. She blushes and takes the stick with an embarrassed 'thank you' under her breath.

As the final shaman emerges with the tribe's newest... the tribal Fire responds. It quickens, flame reaching higher in response to the shamans' magic. It roars, reaching high and higher...magic begins a slow thrum, a slow morning's buzz that tickles the air and thrums deeply against the senses.

"Atoyaatl! We present to you your tribe!"

The Fire leaps. Of course it does. It reflects on the scales of the shamans, and the thrum grows stronger.

"We give them Names! We mark them as part of the tribe, we bring them to the Atoyaatl, we give them caste!"

"...though they may not listen to us," a sly, older sith-makar replies. An older female, she tugs at her tokens as she shares a look with the other shamans. Then, "Children of the Flame! Guessts! Tribess! You have in your handss a token of wood! Insscribe a name upon it! At the end, we will commit it to Fire, to tribe, to Blood!"

The female clears her throat, and then turns to the shamans. "Shamans! What have the sspirits ssaid? How sshall our People grow? Who are thesse new oness among uss?"

"Namess!"

"SHAMANS! WHAT HAVE THE SSPIRITSS REVEALED!"

"...Namess!"

"Namess!"

One of them clutches Iuitl's wraps, her head poking out at the crowd and Fire. Another gives Xiuhacoatl a wave, and goes, "RHAR!" A smallish female clings to Durrankar, sitting on the poor shaman's head, and reaching for the staff he carries, as though it's the most fascinating thing in the world, and there ISN'T the most important ceremony of their life about to take place.

Wide. WIDE eyes.

Jonan has partially disconnected.

"Peep peep," says Sandy to Svarshan, casually. She seems more amused than anyhting else. "It's about time. I'm glad to be here for this, you know," she adds. Then she smooths her skirt again (she hates it so) and has herself a seat once more. Also, annoyed. Mikilos exists.

One of the hatchlings is staring DIRECTLY AT Sandy. Because children everywhere cannot resist The Hips.

Jonan has disconnected.

Mikilos smiles politely back to Sandy.

Godwyn smiles. "Names." It's the only repetition she says, almost in a whisper, before moving toward the rest of the group. "Althea watch over this gathering and bless it." Mostly to herself, few others may be able to hear as she approaches.

Rhar has arrived.

Suddenly, Durrankar holds up his hand.......and sets the staff's end on the ground, releasing it. The staff begins to glow and.....remains upright.

It is then that Durrankar reaches up and lifts the female from his shoulders.

"ATOYAATL! WELCOME INTO YOUR TRIBE!"

Pause. that annoying pause.

Matlalihui!

He then sets the female on the ground, and steps back, taking his staff once again, raising it to the sky.....and stamping it on the ground....to make the flames of the pyre rise into the air like someone just poured some accelerant on it.

Durranker then steps back into his previous spot.

Renfrey quickly scribbles the name down on the end of the stick, he doesn;t want to miss out on this!

"Oooh! I've got a good one!" Jibbom scratches his token with a little too much enthusiasm. Worrying.

Renfrey goes OOC.

Renfrey has left.

Mikilos stays quiet and still, watching, listening.

As if on cue, Iuitl steps forward, grasping the clinging hatchling with one arm. A look is given to the young one as they step up. She holds the child up, and puffs up her chest to begin speaking loudly and proudly. "ATOYAATL!! Welcome into your tribe...!"

Another pause. The suspense!!

"Yoli!"

CUBS! Rhar loves cubs. She proves this with waving excitedly. And yelling. And teetering in her crouch from the cubs she's carrying. But maybe not for much longer. "TOY! " A pause. "OILY!"

Suddenly, Sandy has a kid on her hip. It was bound to happen at some point, and she looks somewhat chagrinned. She also glares at Svarhsan. This is, literally, his fault. She makes her way towards where Aldean and Silmeria are seated and says, "Huh. Wasn't expecting to see you here," to the bard.

Xiuhcoatl stops dead as a shaman speaks, then continues to answer questions, and carves idly with a dark claw into the token. His eyes stay on who he is talking to, but it is nice to have his hands busy.

Godwyn covers her mouth with her right hand at Rhar's enthusiasm, hiding her grin. Still, she waits, hoping her chosen name is called out. She maintains silence, focused entirely on the ritual at hand.

Ssylrath watches and listens intently, idly chewing on the legbone he still holds.

As the children are introduced, Silmeria produces a fine-edged chisel, scratching names into the token. "So... a talking cat, honestly?" she asks of the bard, then blinks as Sandy makes her way over, looking up and beaming at the child. "Hello, miss."

Durrankar turns from his spot and gestures towards the remaining two males with him. Taking a deep breath, and lifting one of the children up, Durrankar announces:

ATOYAAL! Welcome to your tribe....

Matlalihui!!!

Another pause, lifting the second up...

Cualli!!!

He seems rather proud of this last name he's given out......

Once he's given out that last name, the fire roars and he turns towards the fire....as if reading it. He even gestures for Iuitl to join him.

Mikilos listens carefully, but doesn't scribble anything down... yet. He plays memory games with himself a lot.

Myrana writes with her fingertip again.

Towards the back, Aldean's been writing names on his own token as they come, listening largely in fascinated silence, toes still keeping time with the thump of the drums. He looks up as Sandy greets them, though, and flashes an easy grin at her. "Aye. Darshan be a friend o' sorts," he explains, charcoal in his hand pausing. "Mind me t'tell ye of the time 'e threw me into a table."

With that, he turns to Silmeria. "Ye ever met Lady Sandiel?" he nods to the sildanyari who just greeted him. "Silmeria, meet Lady Sandiel. Sandy ... Silmeria be a friend o' mine." And still that foot is tapping with the rhythm behind the drums, as if he's counting its time.

Cesran looks at the token and he flips it over, "Sorry Ral-sara looks like it all ready has a name on it. We'll have to wait til the name is called and we go and throw it into the fire."

Only waiting for Durrankar to finish Naming those two male hatchlings, Iuitl comes forward again, and speaks up once more for everyone to hear her words:

"Atoyaatl!! Welcome into your tribe...!"

"Ohtli!" One of the females is gestured to.

"Palti!" Another female hatchling!

Her longspear is thumped against the floor and the fire responds to it by climbing. She looks to Durrankar for a moment, and then to the fire, as if preparing to say something else. That's six of the seven so far...

Rhar doesn't need to write anything down. Even if she did, she wouldn't be able to read it. So she commits them to memory. Which means she'll ask Cyootie later. He always knows the right answer to everything. "Coolie!" Hotlie! Paltry!

Jibbom knows answers. Whether they are the right answers or not depends on one's perspective. In any case, he sidles up next to Rhar, beaming as he joins in her enthusiastic welcoming of the newly named Sith.

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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 ceremonial pyre. 

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. The sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse.

EXTRAS: +view                                 

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Jibbom          Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night.               36s  1h

Aldean          Near-bald human male, dark eyes, sturdy build.        13s  54m

Crow            A young half-sil man with dark hair and blue-grey eye 8m   1h

Silmeria        A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and 2m   2d

Iuitl           Short sith, mottled black scales, tired green eyes    2m   1d

Durrankar       Silver Sith-makar with blue eyes                      5m   2h

Xiuhcoatl       Tall, lithe, savage looking blue scaled Sith-Makar ma 9m   2h

Ssylrath        Green lizardman, short and wide, with a Swiftclaw.    3m   2h

Rhar            A furry lucht. In furs. Baness of Night.              1m   20m

Svarshan        Demons: BBQ with Spice                                0s   1w

Cesran          A tall dark-skinned man                               2m   1h

Mikilos         Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.        2m   1h

Sandy           Sandy is wearing petticoats.                          5m   2d

Myrana          Short young woman with coal-black braids.             5m   1h

Godwyn          Blond, blue-eyed, beatific Sentinel.                  1m   1h

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Naming Day Desc

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Through Woods <TW>        

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As the sixth name is called, Godwyn's eyes widen. She glances down at her stick... and grins. "I suppose I have your good grace today, Matron." She looks at the child with the name she'd picked. "This is so cool."

Durrankar looks to Iuitl, then back to the fire. the fire climbs, then turns blue, crackling for a moment. then Durrankar moves for the seventh hatchling, and holds it up for all to see.

"ATOYAAL! Welcome to your tribe....."

"Xicohten!"

Iuitl gestures with her off-hand to the last hatchling!

Cesran stands up and he brushes himself off, "I think the one we have says Ohtli on it, come on let's go." He says to his staff as he heads up to the fire and he tosses the token into the fire. "Welcome to the tribe Ohtli

As the shamans read the last Name is read aloud, the scarleg from earlier thumps her tail. Others follow suit, filling the air with the sound of drum, and a warm chant--welcoming the hatchlings into Life and tribe.

The chant pervades the senses, bringing joy and tribe, Life and jubilation, a sense of wonder, and the burn of Fire behind it.

It burns brightly, of course. As though waiting. Waiting. For each of YOU.

Meanwhile, the drums THUNDER. Tails thunder. Sticks thunder--anything that can be grabbed is beaten or howled. If Aldean isn't playing, his hands soon ache. The magic near-demands it, with primal fire and rhythm. In the air, the far-away beat of dragon's wings that for a moment, would stretch from the backs of everyone.

...And ache to reach towards the sky. However briefly, Memory summoned from long, long ago touches each of you. ...a memory of Wings and Fire and Flame.

Ssylrath beats time with legs and tail and shouts in welcome to the newly named Sith-makar. He puts down his food on a handy table and makes marks on the wooden token he holds with one claw, starting to move forward from the periphery.

There is a moment as Xiuhcoatl bathes in the atmosphere, eyes closing and nostrils flaring. His shoulders roll back. There is a shudder, a long pause. Hissing, then he throws one of his tokens into the roaring flames, a brief smell of ozone on his heavy breath.

Godwyn glances toward the fire... and her eyes widen as memories that are not hers flash through her. Not an unpleasant sensation, mind. She grins and makes her way toward the fire, tossing her stick in as soon as she reaches the site. Then... she glances toward Ssylrath's stick and blinks. "That's rather interesting. What is it?"

Crow is still quiet. But as the ancient magics start, the smile on the little druid's face grows brighter, closing his eyes and just feeling the flow of the world's energies. The little ferret ducks back into his hood, clearly not knowing what to make of all this light and noise and confusion. But the druid himself welcomes it.

What's almost as good as cubs? STICKS! Rhar has those, and she joins the thumping by hitting her big flat stick with her not-sharp side of her sharp stick. "Cyooten?" She looks to Steel von Ironblood and whoops! "Named after you, Cyootie! More Iron Blood Bane Night!"

Myrana's blue eyes light and the contageous excitement of the noise and jubulation washes over her and she feels more than a little swept up by it. She doesn't shout, but she grins, skin prickling and a crackle of static shivvering over her as she starts to toss her stick. As it leaves her fingers she blinks, taken aback by the brief memory broadcast over everyone present, and despite herself and the celabratory roar filling every mote of air around the fires gives herself a shake to come prudently out of it.

You paged Aldean with 'There's a different name on the trinket. It's his. O:3'

Somewhere in there ... Aldean isn't quite sure where or how ... he's picked up the drum that was sitting by his feet and has joined in as well. Although his rhythm is different, still it blends, like many heartbeats converging in a single place. The token that rested on his leg slides somehow to the ground unheeded ... and abruptly, his hands freeze for the space of about three breaths, eyes not seeing what's in front of him. That quickly, and it's gone, his hands joining back into the drumbeat, melting into it and yet outside of it in a curious way.

Karelin has arrived.

Ssylrath throws his stick into the fire and then mutters something quietly to Godwyn. He backs away quickly, seeming abashed.

Karelin is there, honest, all dressed up. He actually shined his boots, which is probably why he's so damned late. Took a bath, shaved, did it up right.

Durrankar holds onto his staff and exhales as the ancient magics wash over him, letting steam engulf the area around his feet. Then the magics fade, but the memory does not. Durrankar then puts his hand on Iuitl's shoulder. "And now.....we eat." he says going to get some food in himself....for the first time in two days.

Silmeria 's eyes flutter open as the magic surge leaves her with a.... decidedly unfamiliar half-memory. Loosing a long, slow breath, she rests a hand on Aldean's shoulder for a moment, then takes up his token and hers, moving toward the Fire to answer the call.

Durrankar also takes his token and walks forward towards the flame.

Godwyn turns to glance at Ssylrath for a moment, then gives him a nod of understanding. With her name sent, she heads toward the rest of the party... and nearly bumps into Silmeria.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I... Sil!" She grins. "I haven't seen you since the dance. Have you been all right?"

Tatyannah has arrived.

Rhar goes quiet at the weird fly-y, warm fiery feelings. Swoons. Woobles. Tips. Good thing there's a Cyootie for her to lean on. Or to cushion her fall if she knocks him over. She is a whole five pounds heavier now!

Xiuhcoatl clutches his token in his hand tightly and looks to Iuitl and Durrankar. The clenched fist and token stay over the center of his chest, and his eyes slowly close again in reverence. Standing plainly in front of the fire.

Jibbom wraps an arm around Rhar to steady her as he beams at the ceremony. "It's like seeing what our kids will be like when they grow up." He muses as he watches the namings proceed. "Only they'll probably be less scaly." Probably.

Karelin takes his tokens, makes a surreptitious sign of Kor over them, murmurs, "May you be as brave as your father," over them, before doing the approved part of the ritual. He, then, steps up to the Fire and offers them to it. And then there's food. Food. He's down with it being this kind of party.

Tatyannah zooms in late and in the back. No, no, she wasn't off, doing stuff, acquiring things that are not technically hers, nope, not her. She doesn't do those sorts of things. She does get a thing to be carved. This is quickly inscribed with a name and she goes to stand in line to throw things into the fire.

The Fire surges as each of you give Names to it. As the final Name is given, the tribe-magic settles. It becomes a more contented thing...and eventually, wanes. The thrum of magic continues, but as a backdrop instead of the more immediate thing it had been.

"...owlbear?" says the sith-makar from earlier. He takes a breath as the blood begins to cool. Gets out his basket, again.

The Atoyaatl elders mingle with the crowd, greeting guests, and taking turns holding various hatchlings.

And food.

Lots, and lots of FOOD.

Slowly, conversation begins again around you. The shaman-tent is quiet, and the Fires relaxed. Meanwhile, one of the scarlegs makes her way over towards Xiuhcoatl.

Some of the other shamans make their way towards Crow, Rhar and the other druids. Well, Rhar looks like a druid. Maybe a wolfcub. This is easily confusing.

In the aftermath of the ceremony, Iuitl's stomach rumbles powerfully. She looks up at Durrankar-- UUUUUP because he is much taller than her --and then wordlessly turns to seek out enough food to make up for all of the meals she missed. She drools a bit.

She spares no time for conversation. She had a busy time the past couple of days, and the intense meditation being over has been replaced only with her hunger and primal joy to be among so many of her kind, all feeling connected as their people so emphasize in their rituals and magic.

The blue sith tosses the token in, and eases up noticably. His muscles look fluid again instead of tense as he nods to the shaman that steps forward.

Cesran moves to sit back down after throwing the token into the fire. He picks up his food and he starts to eat it again. He enjoys the sith'makar magic as it swirls around him. Much different from the magic he is used to working with, but somehow feels similar.

Crow nods respectuflly to the druids as the shamans come his way, the little ferret peeking out to see what's caused his perch to move in such a way, little nose sniffing energetically. "Well met, friends," he greets, bright eyes looking them over happily. Then, to Rhar, "To all of you." Because druids are brothers, no matter where they're to be found.

"Oh of course!" Silmeria says to Godwyn, tiny silver coins twinkling amongs her bound-up ringlets. "It's really wonderful to've been invited," she says, casting her token into the fire, then looking down at Aldean's token... and pausing, eyebrows drawing down. "...That's odd," she murmurs, looking back over her shoulder at the bard, expression clearly puzzled.

Godwyn glances toward Aldean as well. "He tends to do that now and then... though this..." She tilts her head to the right. "...may be different." She turns toward Silmeria again. "How have you two been faring?"

The shaman near Xiuhcoatl clasps his shoulder, and leans down, whispering something to the blue. Whatever words are exchanged has the shaman thumping her tail hard against the earth, before catching the blue's shoulders in a brief, if friendly grip.

Near Crow, Jibbom, and Rhar: "Peasse to you, and honor to the Green. Sshaman Crow, it is good to see you among the Green once more." He pauses, and nods towards Ssylrath. "I ssee you brought the Ward with you. You have kept him out of trouble?" The elder's note is teasing.

You paged Xiuhcoatl with 'The shaman's going to say something to the effect: Once you were lost, now you are found. If you ask, we give you Name among the Atoyaatl, and make you ours. Tonight is the sharing of Fire and the strength of Blood. Our lands are open to you.'

From afar, Xiuhcoatl nods to the elder. "I have the name my father has given me, and I must continue his legacy. But I would be honored to join you." (yes, it's something I want to pursue, but Xiu has all sorts of eccentricities that he's working out slowly.)

Durrankar grabs some owlbear, then some more food that was supplied, he pats the shoulder of Iuitl before he makes his way towards Crow. "Peace upon your nest, Crow. Welcome to the naming ceremony for the Atoyaal tribe.....Svarshan's tribe. He then nods his head to Aldean, and gives him a similar greeting.

Karelin gets himself a plate of food, then goes looking for Srrasha. He's all smiles, which always looks a little disconcerting.

Xiuhcoatl clasps the elder on the opposite shoulder with an affirmative, and friendly, strong grip. He nods, with a flare of his nostrils. The blue looks down to see the one hatchling who always stands and stares at him doing just that, young Yoli. He kneels down, away from the shaman and meets her gaze, unblinking, and narrowed. There is a long, long pause where one doesn't look from the other. Until a black talon flies from the blue's left hand and taps it on Yoli's surprised snout.

The bard has not gotten up to get any food just yet, and the hand drum, ornately decorated in a city folk style, still rests across his knee. His eyes go to Silmeria as she stands talking with Godwyn, and he's about to get up to find her when Durrankar greets. The sith gets a cheerful grin. "Fair winds to ye, an it's pleased I be t'be here. Ain't expect that." There's something still in him that is resonating with the drumbeat from earlier, though that has begun to fade.

Tatyannah throws her token in, before she heads for Svarshan. She's got her bag, and is digging in it, even as she approaches the sith. She's really not sure what the protocol here is. "Svarshan, I have presents for you, for your kids. Would I, should I give these to you now or would there be a more appropriate time?"

"Fine, fine," Silmeria replies, though distracted by the writing on the token. "Things are rather well, it's just... are you seeing this too?" Holding the token up to Godwyn, she turns it to show how the writing changes, gradually fading from the names called out during the ceremony, to Aldean's own... and the last, not in the same hand as the rest. "I'm not going mad, am I?"

"it issss good to have you hear Aldean." Durrankar says as he tears off a large hunk of meant from a plate he's carrying. At his leg, the newly named Matlaihui clinging to his furs. "Would you like to introduce yourself, little one? Now that you have a name?"

Svarshan thumps his tail towards Tatyannah. The female sith next to him does as well. She steps forward, a half step. "Dragon's wingss honor and shelter you. Thank you for coming," she says. Another thump of the tail. "I am Vthria, cihuaa to Svarshan. It iss an honor to meet you."

Nearby, one of the Named squeals as she runs by--and collides into Godwyn's legs. "Hiiiiiii!" he says.

Jibbom beams widely to the shaman. "Yes, honor to the green! And the purple. And the orange and the blue. They're all good colors, really." Once again, he has missed the point entirely. Jibbom just grins with blissful ignorance and takes another bite of owlbear while keeping Rhar steady.

The shaman thumps her tail towards Xiuhcoatl again, "When you are ready," she says. Another thump, and she heads towards the food--before the two Warriors near the end eat all of it.

Srassha is near some of the other mounts and beasts. It's a little hard to tell--with the bears, and trees, the swifts of a mixture of druidic cultures coming together. She straightens at the sight of a familiar face. Of course--she pretends not to notice Karelin. AT FIRST. Plays coy.

Xiuhcoatl takes a moment to stare at the hatchling and rises, nodding and following the shaman.

Sandy is, of course, doing her level best to avoid Jibbom. Who can blame her? She also hides behind Aldean and, altenratively, Svarwshan. And then finally Myrana. She leans over and mutters to Myrana, "You are going to pay for this. ONE WAY OR THE OTHER."

Iuitl is soon found sitting somewhere off to the side, stuffing food in her face, while entertaining Palti with funny-sounding words in Draconic and Trade. She just keeps doing this word exercise, repeating until the hatchling can say it passably. She even points to symbols seen on her scales that correspond to certain words, more of her scales visible now than usual due to her ceremonial outfit.

Even if the hatchling can't say them properly, Iuitl has fun feeding the little one little scraps of meat.

As the newly Named hatchling reveals herself, Aldean breaks into baritone laughter and finally sets the hand drum aside on the ground next to him, the whole matter of the tokens and the ritual earlier seemingly forgotten as the shaman coaxes the hatchling out. "Mayhaps yer pa'll relax a bit, aye?"

Tatyannah flashes a smile at Vthria, "Hello! It's nice to meet you as well. I, um, it's a tradition in my family, to give a child it's first taste of loot on their name day, so I was wondering if I could do that for yours." She shows off seven gold earrings with seven different semi-precious stones set in each. "Don't worry, it doesn't mean I want them to become pirates or anything. Just - it's a tradition in my family. And Svarshan has been a good companion on several adventures and has probably saved my life. More than once."

Crow nods to Durrankar. "Peace upon your nest as well, friend," he greets the other. "An excellent ceremony. I'm sure the tribe will continue on strongly under the new generation." The ferret turns its nose toward Rhar, sniffing curiously, even as Crow's eyes travel in that direction. "A pleasure to meet you as well," the young druid says.

Oop, there's a Sandy behind her. Myrana jumps slightly in surprise, and looks over her shoulder at the equally short, equally terrible sorceress. "O-Oh?" she says, putting a hand to her cheek. "For what?" Innocent.

"Mat-all!" says the one Durrankar's holding. And makes a sudden grab for the shaman's head! "Mat-all! I Mat-all!" ...one day, he may get the pronunciation down. That day is not today. In the meantime, Durrankar's head is GRIPPED.

Vthria looks towards her cihuaa, and then reaches over to grip his hand. It's horribly mushy. She looks back to Tatyannah. "One iss honored. I--one iss honored. I'm glad to get to know you. Perhapss with the Treaty--"

"Perhapss with the. Treaty. There will be more...Words," Svarshan supplies. Slowly. Struggling with them. Perhaps that's why he looks so wry about it--laughing at himself.

Sandy has reconnected.

Ssylrath surveys the gathering with a smile and then slips away into the trees. A moment later his swiftclaw companion also gets up and strides off in the same direction. Even during a celebration someone needs to keep watch for the safety of all.

Xiuhcoatl nudges Iuitl with his shoulder as he follows the shaman past the table where she is feeding her face and talking with the hatchling. A nod in her direction for a job well done. His nostrils flare, the corners of his mouth tightening slightly, as close to a smile as he gets.

Ssylrath has disconnected.

Durrankar erks as his head is gripped. Thankfully, he's strong enough to lift her to his shoulders and put her there. "This is Matlaihui. The vision I saw for her was that she would be a shaman herself one day." he then tears off another hunk of meat, before he tears off a smaller hunk, and holds it up to the little one.

Cesran finishes off his bit of pork and he smiles as he gets up to meet the hatchlings. He kneels down and the eyes on his hatchling hat have googlie eyes which the hatchlings seem to like.

Iuitl grunts in reply to Xiuhcoatl's nudging, and nudges him back with her elbow, replying with her own smile and a thump of her tail.

Meanwhile, the one that had collided with Godwyn, is holding up his hands. Claws. Hands. "Up!" he insists, in the way only a one-year-old can. Waaaaave. Graaaabie. And, two of them have teleported to Sandy's hips. Because that sort of thing just happens. It's as natural as breathing.

Tatyannah closes the box that the earrings are in, handing it over with a beam, "Good, well, I'll just leave these with you, and not take up all your time. Or I can tackle all your kids and give these to them. The former is probably a better option."

Vthria looks distracted as the box appears. Her wraps and sashes show her as of the merchant-caste, were one to read them. So she looks a little distracted.

Svarshan thumps his tail, and is about to respond when a hatchling goes flying into his legs. WHUMP!!!

A flicker from the fire catches Silmeria's attention. Turning, she directs her puzzled stare to the fire, token turning over and over in her hand. Frowning a bit, she shakes her head as though dispelling the sensation, and tosses Aldean's token into the fire.

Karelin leaves behind a treat for the Princess of All Things, then heads off for Svarshan. He waits for Svarshan to finish, holding a wooden case.

"You know what," was Sandy's parting shot to Myrana over her houlder before she heads back over to Aldean. She combs her fingers through her hair and then glares at them, then eyeballs Tatyannah and her present for the kids. That.. seems to tickle her, actually.

Also, Sandy has two kids glued to her hips. She seems somewhat aggrieved.

Aldean's talking to a sith shaman, one of the two doing the Naming, and who has a hatchling on his shoulder. "So yer look fer what they might could be ... an' Name 'em so?" Interest lights the mobile features as he talks to Durrankar.

Godwyn peers at the token for a moment... then shakes her head. "You're not going crazy. I see it too." She looks up at the inquisitor. "When did this start happening?"

Sandy has partially disconnected.

The tall blue looks around the event heaving a great sigh through a heavy breath. He lingers a bit on people he knows, then fluidly turns and walks off, discussing something delicate with a shaman.

WHUMP! Cualli looks up at his father, not acting at all as his name suggests. He has his dad's leg gripped in the classic 'house shoe' position...and is going to stay there FOREVER, dad.

• GRIP*

Svarshan looks down at his son, thoroughly distracted. It takes his cihuaa nudging him before he looks up, then thumps his tail.

...which suddenly looks very, very interesting to Caulli.

"I may not. Can move," Svarshan confides to Karelin.

Tatyannah slips away while Svarshan and Vthria are occupied. Now, there was something about food, at least what she can smell. One the way over, she heads by Sandy and tickles the two on her hips, or at least Tatyannah thinks she does before she dances out of reach.

Karelin grins at Svarshan. "Father looks good on you, old comrade. I brought them something. If they don't want to use them, they'll look good on the wall." He offers up the wooden case to Svarshan.

Godwyn shrugs as Sil tosses it into the fire. "Well then, I have to go talk to the proud papa, and your date. Would you like to join me?"

Xiuhcoatl goes OOC.

Xiuhcoatl has left.

Crow nods politely to those gathered. "It's been a pleasure," he says, "but it's time for me to go check on Windrunner." The emaciated horse has been getting better, but it still pretty sickly. And with that, he slips off into the forest.

Crow goes Through Woods <TW>.

Crow has left.

Svarshan carefully reaches for the case--about the same time as Caulli starts to reeeeaach for his tail. Which had moved again. "It iss the greatesst. Thing I have. Ever done," Svarshan replies. He sounds warmly at peace...even when the tiny, small claws make that sudden grip.

Karelin nods solemnly. "I can see that." A broad smile, and an affable whack on the shoulder. "It means it was all for something." He itches at his eyesocket scars absently. "More than just the acts themselves." Is that heresy from the Korite? Say it ain't so. He grins at the littles, though.

Once Silmeria throws the trinket--the Fire seems to pause. Then it flares once again, a small echo of former magics, before going quiet again. Around, the quiet thrum and sense of magic continues. Just a light, background effect.

Myrana squeezes through the crowds and comes 'round to where Karelin and Svarshan are talking. Not wanting to interrupt, she sneaks in a highly visible manner around behind Svar and dangles a piece of owlbear meat above the grabby little one's nose.

Durrankar turns, when the youngling allows him, towards Silmeria and lowers his head towards her...as well as Godwyn. "Peace upon your nest." he then looks up. "Would you like to introduce yourself again?"

"It is the. Greatesst gift. Now I know, I had ffelt losst before them." A pause, and then the hatchling is gnawing on his tail. ...or was. Cualli breaks off and watches Myrana as she becomes the Most Interesting Person in the World. Round, round eyes. Reachyhands. His father makes use of the distraction to nod his thanks to the Korite.

As Durrankar turns away, Aldean's about to look back up at Sandy ... but spots the flicker and pause of the Fire. For a moment, it arrests his attention ... but he doesn't say anything before shaking his head quickly and picking up the drum again. He rests it absently across his lap, but still looks up with a grin for SAndy. "They like ye."

"Of course," Silmeria says to Godwyn, bobbing her head and accompanying the Althean back to Sandy and Aldean.

Godwyn glances toward Aldean as he looks toward the fire for a moment... and tilts her head to the right. "Mesmerizing, isn't it?"

The hatching are lizrds and thus a little less ticklish, but that doesn' mean they don't like it. They flail a bit on her hips. Sandy mutters after Tatyannah nd then murderously glres at YMyrana again before finding herself a seat. Still has the kids on her.

"Yes, yes," Myrana is saying, not seeming to be aware that anyone might be able to hear her. "Meat is great. Meat is the best. I know!" Because LOOK AT THE CUTE THING! She keeps giving him pieces of her owlbear.

Myrana goes OOC.

Myrana has left.

Karelin nods. "I understand that, yes." He grins. "Be well. It's got your tail." He steps back, and looks for more food.

Svarshan goes OOC.