Ill Met in the Market
Log Info
- Title: Ill Met in the Market
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Aya, Braelnoir, Cryosanthia, Merek, Molly, Rumbo, Sabina, Serene, Stjepan
- Place: A07: Lower Alexandria Market District
- Time: Wednesday, October 28, 2020, 9:54 PM
- Summary: Madah'Chern Akorinil ferch Belvade yun Lithrinil dem Kenduis, Priestess Akorinil from here on out, is part of the Charnese delegation to Alexandria and out slumming in the lower markets. The city has changed since she last was here. Various adventurers come by and interact with her, with violent incidents nearly occuring three times. Akorinil seems to recognize and is knowledgeable about many of the adventurers, making them even more suspicious of her, which it should. She has some questions for them, but one of those incidents aborts any answers. She at least makes a new friend. Muls should stick together.
-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: Lower Alexandria Market District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=-
Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks.
For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world.
Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.
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-=-=- Madah'Chern Akorinil ferch Belvade yun Lithrinil dem Kenduis -=-=-=-=- Akorinil 4'5" 98 LB Shadow Elf Female Diplomatic Delegate, Priestess of Taara, NPC -=--=--=-- Aristocrat of the family Belvade of House Kendui =--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Aya 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Molly 5'1" 122 Lb Half-Elf Female An ash skinned half-elf with red glasses Rumbo 3'2" 35 Lb Goblin Male A gun-toting gobber with a wooden peg-leg. Sabina 5'4" 130 Lb Human Female Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes Serene 6'2" 175 Lb Eldanar/Charn Female Glacier meets granite meets strawberries. Stjepan 8'0" 534 Lb Giantborn Male Big, blonde jotun. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
"What a /lovely/ city this is," says a voice. The accent is strong enough to command attention, to be sure. Thick and Charnese. Whoever she is, she is flanked in either side by Alexandrian soldiers, watching her every move.
There's been rumors of a Charnese delegation. Perhaps this is a member?
She is, of course, a Shadow Elf. Her dark skin and ginger hair are easily enough to give that way, and she seems to be overlooking a very nervous fruit vendor's fruit. She plucks an apple from his stall and holds it up against the fading evening light with a smile.
Merek was walking about in the Lower Market District while he makes a way along, his dark attire on along with the beltcape which he wears, a rod upon the hip for magical use, dragonspitter in another. He seems to be watching the woman that speaks, noticing the delegation while he nods a bit that way.
Randolf pushes his plate away, wiping his mouth on the back of a hairy fist as he lets loose a rumbling belch. "Mmh... fine supper, as always," he says, washing his meal down with a hefty gulp from the mug at his side. He digs into his breast pocket for his pipe and tobacco pouch, busying himself with filling the bowl. He pauses as he sees the curious delegation making their way through the city, his shaggy red brows lofting in surprise. "Beards o' me fathers," he mutters. "Dinne see -that- every day, do ye?"
"It does have its own sort of charm, does it not?" notes another voice in agreement from just beyond arm's (or weapon's) reach of both the likely delegate and the soldiers. Aya was not readily apparent, at least to some, a moment past, but was keeping one or more eyes upon the Charneth mul'niessa. They are untrustworthy and suspect, of course; Aya knows this perhaps better than most.
Yes, now there are two of them. That's sure to delight the guards.
Braelnoir, herself finishing some business with an alchemist to replenish some of her personal inventory, as well as accomidate some reagents for a side project, finds her attention drawn to the familiar ambiance of a lockstep march. Ahh, nostalgia. The Korite turns, considering the procession in some thoughtful regard, manifesting a hooded mantle of oilcloth through one of her little toys, to obscure the gleam of hair and brand.
Rumbo wanders the market with, of course, a hand on his dragonspitter. It does appear that he is learning the social niceties of Alexandria and rather than spinning it around his trigger finger the Gobber has kept the firearm in it's holster as he browses the market stalls and instead contents himself with his fingers tapping as his hand rests atop the grip.
Sabina had been amusing a small group of children with some minor tricks of juggling as well as minor magics. Her peacock on her shoulder adding too the allure along with her coyote half mask. But once she spies the stranger and her guards she quickly shoos the children off and away to a chorus of 'awws' and at least one 'boo'. She smiles at this as she does the newcomer to the city. She leans against a building and continues to watch.
"Perhaps it doesn't have all the charm of home, sister, but there's something to be said for fresh."
The Shadow Elven woman in her robes takes a bite of her apple and clearly enjoys it. Afterwards, she's putting it into her pocket. "My first time in Alexandria in decades. Not since the halcyon days of the Crown Wars, when the witch queen ruled with an iron fist. Of course, she turned against Charn in the end, but you know... these things happen." A dismissive wave of her hand. Treachery as expectation.
Merek looks to the woman, then to Aya while he seems to think about it. He then would listen and watch, not exactly getting really involved while he would look to the people he knows which were about, nodding to Brae a little bit as well.
Randolf watches the curious procession a moment longer, then shrugs his broad shoulders. He tucks his pipe in the side of his mouth and makes a grandiose flourish with his hand. Snapping his fingers, he conjures a spark of flame that he uses to light up his pipe. Once he has a warm glow kindled in the bowl, he banishes the flame with a snap of his wrist. He settles back in his seat, puffing contentedly, though still watching the goings on with curiosity.
Braelnoir gives that a few more moments of observation, then turns back to finish her business, only to catch sight of Merek's nod. She returns it, then goes back to her business long enough for coins to be exchanged with vials, themselves soon tucked into pockets of her bandolier. That done, she drifts closer to the Seer, "Hey, luv."
Rumbo spies Randolf through the crowd and smiles broadly. The gobber wanders through the markets towards the wizardly looking dwarf and watches as the pipe is lit through magics. "lare thuroz var yol ka'az" Rumbo offers in friendly greeting and adds, as he draws the dragonspitter from his holster with a twirling flourish, "ghoran turnuroz kron nad dharok lon ov got karr'a kron drakna lad" The gobber then busies himself loading the dragonspitter with powder and... was that a pinch of tobacco? <unknown>
Bina.. being who she is, moves from her leaning post and slowly towards the strange duo and their guards. Careful not to get too close, of course. Always the smile on her face and hands clasped behind herself as she walks. She eyes them in detail before falling in pace with them, albeit a few spans off.
Aya ahs softly at the revelation from her 'sister' as they converse. "I never had the opportunity to visit this city during that time, though I did hear tell of countless tales on the subject when I was young. My attentions were then monopolized by the ... charms of home for several decades, so my arrival was rather recent." A brow arches at the other mul. "Is your visit, now, a result or cause of special occassion?"
Having finished loading the dragonspitter Rumbo brings it up and fires the thing into the air with a loud BANG! that echoes around the markets. Directly following the Gobber leans his face into the cloud of smoke and inhales deeply from the barrel before smiling with bliss to Randolf.
Randolf looks up as Rumbo approaches. The burly dwarf tenses up a bit, a look of concerned worry creasing his features. "Och. Hello there, Rumbo. Are..." He trails off, his eyes getting wider and wider as the gobber loads powder and tobacco into his firearm. "Now see here, ye canne -possibly- mean te--" He yelps as the gun fires, nearly pitching over in his seat. He takes a moment to right himself, staring at the gobber. "... er... ye know, a pipe would probably be easier," he says at length, clearing his throat with a harrumph.
"Madah'Chern Akorinil ferch Belvade yun Lithrinil dem Kenduis." Which, for those for those familiar even slightly with Charnese naming patterns indicates she is an aristocraf of the family Belvade of House Kendui.
"Here on a diplomatic mission, of course." She puts her hands together behind her head, turning her eyes towards the associated others moving about their business. "So ... cosmopolitan," she offers. Her tone indicates she may not find that as endearing as some others might, however.
"Home does have its Charns."
Oh god. Did she really just say that.
GAME: Aya rolls knowledge/local: (12)+4: 16 GAME: Randolf rolls knowledge/local: (6)+5: 11 GAME: Merek rolls knowledge/nobility: (6)+8: 14
Braelnoir reacts to the report of a Dragonspitter in a perfectly rational way; She looks about for the source as she shifts to a proper killing grip on her scythe.
GAME: Braelnoir rolls int+2: (6)+int+2: 8
The gun goes off and Bina jumps just a tad bit. The peacock on her shoulder lets out a cry, darn near as loud as the gun. "SHhhh... Emp. Come on. Shhh.." She tries to soothe the bird and in a few moments manages to achieve the feat. She looks over at the shooter and recognizes them and then sighs rolling her eyes behind her mask. But then her grin comes back out.
Merek looks to the shadow elf and nods a bit to the woman. The man really likes puns, that was great. "Merek." His own family was nobility a long time ago, which had little meaning anymore. The man would look to the place while he seems to think about it. "I imagine you are on political business?" Then a look to Brae, "It's nice to even see you about, I'm glad you are doing well, I'm managing alright."
Aya starts slightly at the detonation of the firearm, though her reflexive glance is first to the guards, not the source. They are nearer and likely already unhappy and/or tense. When she realizes the source is a Gobber, it is a sign that all is ...well, as can be expected. The play on words is overlooked in that moment.
"Ayaxandraea fa Rrostoavae da Kalis," the other mul'niessa responds formally. She holds no proper title amongst her family, house, or further, likely due to her absentia status. There was also that matter of a past 'delegation,' with an aging human warlord of The Tyrant attempting to claim her as betrothed. Emphasis on attempting. "Dare I inquire of your efforts? Have the Alexandrosians not already acceeded to an accord?"
Braelnoir shrugs a bit, "Day ta day, y'know." the merc replies. The pun isn't much to prompt a twitch, but she vaguely remembers Charn cultivating that sort of humor in certain circles. As no one takes another shot, or, not even the guards seeming to take note, the Korite relaxes and reindexes the scythe blade as she props it back over her shoulder.
Rumbo's gunshot and then fluent Khazdul has Akorinil turning to study him with a vague hint of bemused incredulity. "Hmm," she says.
"Well, they did tell me to expect ... oddities upon odditiies. This city has quite changed, but I will be endeavouring to stay for some time. My daughter and I have *much* catching up to do and the work of my Goddess never ends. All that lives, wants, as you all well know." She eyes Braelnoir a moment, thoughtfully, and then Merek when he offers his name.
"Weren't you in the hells?" She asks, curiously, before turning back to Aya, "I'm familiar with the family name, I think, but not you specifically. Still, we dwell in the Shadow together."
Randolf goes back to watching the shadow elves, puffing quietly at his pipe. Though he does steal a wary glance towards Rumbo from time to time. Just in case.
"Indeed," Aya dips her chin to Madah'Chern in a nod, gesturing vaguely to the suroundings and those immediately present. "It may well take time to become accustomed, though it is helpful to have a familial face present. I imagine she'll be quite overcome at seeing you. Yes, I am quite familiar with Her unending works and the unending wants." She leaves it at that, especially as Merek comments, introduces himself, and draws some interest.
Merek would look a little like, well like someone would have just hit him. "I... Was," the man notes, then he watches the shadow elf, while he seems to think about it for a little bit. "Pleasure to meet you." Then, it's back to the memories that brought up while he nods a bit to Brae. "I escaped, after months being there."
Braelnoir gives a little dip of a nod as the Mul'iessan dignitary notes her, but doesn't have a lot to offer on either score in animous or awe. Merek's nod her way draws her eye, trying to school a neutral over her concern.
Sabina continues to keep her pace along side the dinitary and her guards. Not too close and not too far. She does wince as Merek's time in hell is brought up but clips her sigh and continues to smile, nodding to a passerby.
Rumbo frowns as one of the city guards interrupts the Gobber's smoking and is whisked off for a stern talking too.
"I thought so," replies Akorinil. "A word of advice, if I may: don't truck with the demons, dear. Hard to get that smell out. It just clings to everything." She glances back towards Aya with a faint smile, a slight nod. Sabina and her masked face has been noted, of course. "Oooohhh," she says.
"That is a *lovely* mask. Come here." She crooks a finger at her, welcomingly. The two Alexandrian guards with her, her escort, heavily sigh. Indeed, the ginger Shadow Elven woman is now taking another fruit from the stall and the nerovus merchant behind it. An orange, this time.
Stjepan frequents the market district. It is known -- especially one of his appetite. So it's no real surpise, and maybe a happy accident, when he ends up in the same stall. He just wants his fruit, though. At least to start.
Sabina makes a 'who me?' motion with her hand, knowing full well that the woman means her. She steps closer once having looked to the guards. "Yes? Can I assist in some way?" She grins over to Aya and waves. "Greetings, Aya." The bird on her shoulder fluffing out his feathers and then soothing back down to something nrea normal.
Braelnoir glances over toward Sabina as the visitor seems to take interest in her mask. She gives a cordial upnod the Tarienite's way and gently pats the back of her knuckles against Merek's arm. As things keep percolating, Brae continues to observe in a rather businesslike fashion.
Merek nods a bit, "I will keep that in mind," would be noted, while the man would take a moment to thank Brae with a little look and a pat, then he watches the people in thought.
At the moment, there is a Shadow Elven woman with red hair standing in front of a fruit vendor. She is flankeqd by two guards. Alexandrian guards, who are watching her every move. She's casually chatting with adventurers present, having what is apparently, to her, a fascinating conversation with them. "And *you* are with the fancy bird and masks?" she asks of Sabina, her voice warm and friendly. She can do that well, it would appear, if it's not authentic.
Stjepan starts buying some fruit of his own, slowly assembling a basket. He watches the red-haired Mul'niessa curiously, a little quizzical frown on his face.
Sabina chuckles. "I am a priestess of Tarien. He of laughter and leasons learned. Welcome ..hmm Welcome back to the city. I hope you are finding it more to your liking this time then the last? Or at least more amusing." The bird on her shoulder gives the red-headed Mul a head-canted look.
"Oh, a Priestess! I can imagine we can have some very fun theological debates!" So, Akorinil is looking curiously at Sabina. "What's with the *bird*, however?" she asks,, giving it a smile.
"Oh! Hello," she tells Stjepan, peeling her orange nimbly. A slice is offered over to Merek.
Stjepan nods down to the Mul', "Hello," he replies. A frown. "You remind me of an old acquaintance." He just seems puzzled.
"The bird?" Sabina asks and then smiles wider. "This is Lord Emp. He's my familiar. I'm also something of a caster of spells arcane as well. And as far as theological talks go I could try to keep up. My duty, as I see it, is to keep smiles apon faces no matter where I go. Part of my personal faith." She keeps back as mch as she can, knowing the visitor has more the a few yes on her and speakers speaking at her as well.
"Lord Emp! How lovely a name for such a lovely bird," replies the red-headed Mul standing neear the fruit vendor. She passes an orange slice to the bird, should it want one.
Then she's eyeing Stjepan. "Oh, you know how it is. You've seen one Shadow Elf, you've seen them all, hm?" She wiggles her fingers.
"You'll be seeing more of me, I'm sure. A great deal is going on in this city that's of interest to me."
Stjepan shakes his head. "No, that's not it, but nice try." He folds his arms across his chest, letting the bag dangle. "Do tell."
Creaking leather, jingling buckles and then the impact of her booted feet upon the stones of the road mark Serene's arrival as she dismounts and loops the reins of her horse about a hitch near the very fruit vendor hosting the unusual visitors. She takes a moment to be sure the animal has water, then she turns about to regard the mixed group.
The bird, Emp, takes a long hard stare at the offering and then slowly takes it from the visitor's hand as if it were just that. An offering to a supreme being. Making short work of the friut and then casting a baleful look apon the offerer. Bina sighs and shrugs. "Familiars..."
Cryosanthia is moving through the Lower Market with purpose, clearly with a destination in mind. It's not so urgent however that she can't detour a little in space and time. Lord Emp draws her attention, her friend's familiar is well known, and 'Bina seems to be with a small group. Merek, a familiar hooded form, her recent acquaintance Stjepan, a mul'niessa she doesn't recognize and a lot of guards. That could mean trouble.
Coming up behind Braelnoir, she asks quietly, "What's going on?"
Merek looks over to Cryosanthia and to Brae, "It's just delegation from the Charn nobility," then he would look to people, and nods a bit to the woman.
Braelnoir cants her head a smidge in the hood, turning her chin a bit to Cryo's side as things progress and she murmurs, "That's all." She glances to Merek a moment, then turns more fully to give the Sith a concerned look and reaches out to lightly touch her forearm.
"Why, hello again, Serene," says Akorinil, the red-headed priestess is now paying attention to Serene, of course, even. Apparently, she knows the famed Paladin, yes, but then why wouldn't she? She smiles at Merek when he accepts the orange slice and adds, "You really ought to focus on your strength! The hells can take a lot out of you. More orange slices, I suggest." She then is drawing her eyes toiwards Sabina and Braelnoir, curiously, before nodding to the former.
"It's a lovely bird," she informs them. Stjepan is nodded at. "Well, you know. I'm sure you'll figure it out," with an encouraging smile.
"So many veterans of so many battles here! It's a pleasure to meet all of you."
"Oh." The icy sith'makar answers Merek, her demeanor switching from 'spring thaw' to 'endless winter'. Brae can feel her arm muscles tremble and tense as everyone around Cryo feels the temperature suddenly drop several degrees. A radius that includes the mul'niessa delegate interacting with Merek and Sabina. Warmth, not that there was much on a brisk autumn day, leeches away and frost forms on the cobblesones around her feet.
Braelnoir turns back to the scrutiny, though her hand lingers on Cryo's arm, giving a little squeeze as the coldsnap starts, the gesture hopefully shielded by her body as she affords the Mul'iessa a belated, "Evenin', yer ladyship." Her fingertips miss her scales in short order for the chill.
Bina steps back and away from the visitor and over to those she knows better. Namely Cryo and Braelnior. "Ahh! Hello again. It's good to see you again so soon, Braelnoir and Cryosanthia, I've missed having you about the Tarrace my friend." She grins at them both in a festive mood for no particular reason.
One young half-mul is out making her rounds, and currently making her way through the markets. And she's bought a bottle of imported red wine; something to enjoy later, it would seem.
Molly does a double-take upon sighting the Taarite priestess, however.
Now that, just can't be ignored. Despite her trepidation, the young priestess of Navos changes course, circling in towards the gathering around the worshipper of a goddess she herself once idolized. Nothing to say from her, yet; it's just time to take a look.
Serene's lips press into a line at the Taaran priestess's acknowledgement, but the paladin does tip her head slightly. "Do try not to bother the delegate too much," she advises, her calm tone carrying well. "Best to remember at all times who her patron is, and treat her accordingly."
Meanwhile while Cryosanthia would make the place colder, Merek makes it all infinitely more arcane charged. He is a powerful sage, and his palm would make a fist until there's blood drawing along from it to fall upon the ground, while he takes a bite from the orange, "Thank you." There's a look to his two friends next to him, while he seems to be shaking a little bit, trying to control himself. All the memories of that place come back to him. It doesn't make it any better with an angel on his shoulder literally. The ambient cold which that Sith-Makar was creating would flow into him easily. He seems to be hurting himself solely through keeping that power in check.
<OOC> Merek says, "Absorbing all the ambient cold in the place." GAME: Merek casts Draconic Reservoir/A2. Caster Level: 11 DC: 20
"Please. Just because I follow the Shadow Sorceress doesn't mean I can't stick to my official business while I'm here. This is a /diplomatic/ mission. And, really, whatq's the harm in taking just an orange slice, hm?" she asks of Serene, turning towards Molly. A once over is given to her. "Hm," she adds. Then wshe's handing an orange slice to Bina too. Cryo is noted. A Sith. Ah ha.
Sabina touches Cryo's side, "Let's go."
"Bina," Cryosanthia says, turning her head slowly and looking at her friend. The white sith stands tall, very minimal in her motions, and her breath is visible. "A priestess of the Goddess of Lies and Power Grabbing now knows our name and that we're connected. One who also knows Merek has been in the Iron Hells, which, while not exactly secret one wouldn't expect to be published in Charnath."
She stares in disbelief at Merek. "Why would you take food from someone whose subordinates shot you up? What are you doing with your blood?" Then there's an angel. It's simply too much.
The white sith returns her gaze to Sabina, "Yes, let us go. Before we bother the delegate too much and the guards find something to do." She glances towards Serene, a nod of acknowledgement, then takes Braelnoir's hand.
Molly has been spotted. Well, that wasn't really something she could've avoided, though it's possible she didn't think things through, entirely, from start to finish. The half-mul clasps her hands behind her back, and meanders closer; though thus far, she still doesn't say anything. She glances towards Cryosanthia, listening to the white sith without comment; but her eyes return soon enough to the Priestess of Taara.
Serene's thinly lined lips curl just slightly, a memory of a ghost of a smile, if that, as she tilts her head towards Akorinil, though her gaze does not remain fixed, moving from the Charnish diplomat to Merek. She watches him for a moment, then moves on to consider the others. The guards. Cryosanthia's nod is returned as well. Molly's approach is followed by Serene's gaze for a moment as well, before it returns to the dark priestess and those collected about her. "You test. You wish to find how far you can push your acceptance here. Looking for the cracks. Finding the best places to slip the knife under the guise of gifts and conversation. Whatis the harm in an orange slice indeed."
Braelnoir never was good at 'discrete'. She looks vaguely bemused as she's named, feeling less than reassured by the Mul'iessa's plattitudes, a mindset not helped by the overt mystical/thermal intercourse going on around her. Something about the look in the dignitary's eye as she regards Cryo prompts a quick tally of the guards. The other woman's words coincide and reinforce her own tactical appraisal and she gives a dip of the chin that way in acknowledgement, though her eyes don't leave the Taaran. The hand in hers gets a light squeeze.
Merek seems to think about it for a moment, while he watches that delegate, then he begins to look towards Cryosanthia and Braelnoir, then it's back to the people that are speaking with the shadow elf. "You use the protection of politics, the protection of Alexandria's Guards. You are afraid of us, know that unless you can speak what you talk about upon the battlefield, it's all pointless. You are like a little sister that hides behind her brother and insults people, then expects them to protect you." He steps forward to get into her space along with the Guard's, "I think you are as little and weak as your goddess. Which seems to be common in the Priestess' I've seen recently." Then he would begin to follow along with his friends.
"... while I understand why you feel that way, Serene, I've been here to offer my apologies, amongst other things. I have no interest in causing any harm. While I do not expect you to love or trust me in any sense, I assure you my interest is only in investigating one particular occurrence. Now, what's this about 'my' people doing something? I have no allies or interest in would be Taarans in Alexandria, nor any dealings with them. our church is not what one would call... terribly organized. Many prefer it that way." She shrugs. "But I swear on all that is in my being, on all that binds my people to Her ", that I mean no harm to anyone present." She smiles.
"These oranges are delicious." she had a bite. "Actually," she continues, "I was hoping some of you could answer a question for me."
Molly, still not having said anything yet, turns her head slowly to face Merek instead of the Taarite Priestess. "...You didn't just say that," she states. "But you did. You *did* just say that. You *did* just call all priestesses little and weak, along with our gods. Well allow me to educate you; *I* am a priestess, *my* God is Navos, and in his Holiness he is neither small nor weak."
The half-mul draws herself up, sucking in a deep breath. "As for me, whilst I may not yet be a particularly high-ranking priestess, I don't appreciate your comments about those of us who worship and also happen to be women, and so on behalf of women, gods, and priestesses everywhere, I humbly request that you shut your damn mouth."
Merek does look to Molly, thinking about it a moment, "I apologize, I did not mean it that way. It is simply that Taara's Agents sent another Priestess to mentally dominate my friend while having them assault me. I was speaking specifically about Taara and her faithful as a whole, not anyone else."
Akorinil looks stricken! Smote! She puts her hand to her chest and sways back dramatically! Well, okay. Not really. Her head tilts and she offers a sympathetic, "I understand," in a quiet voice. "May your desires guide you to fufillment, but be ware: you have already once trod perilously close to damnnation with them. I understand you will feel this is a threat coming from me. It is not. It is a warning for waht is wrought across your soul: be ware the moment, you may not escape the grasp of the Hells again. Almost no one does." She pauses a moment, her red eyes going from out of focus to back in focus towards Molly, now. "I like you," she tells her. "For what it's worth, I like her too." She gestures at Serene with her thumb.
Her gaze settles on Cryosanthia for a moment.
She tilts her head.
"If it matteres, I bear you no malice, nor any of the Sith-Makar, but I would never begrudge you what must feel when you gaze upon one such as me. But my place here will endanger no one and nothing. In truth, we are all already in a great deal of danger. Danger enough that I've put myself on the line coming here. In addition to the diplomatic mission, of course. But that's for another time." A glance towards Serene. Observes her.
Braelnoir isn't terribly diplomatic, either. It isn't her gift, though as Merek steps up to give the Mul'iessa the business, she retrieves her hand from Cryo's grip and, mindful of the sharp edges, tries to hook her arm around his elbow to draw him off, "C'mon, Mer, let's go. Yer laydyship." She glance to the slighted Navan priestess, bowing her head just a touch. She's worried about Cryo as her other hand is full of scythe, though the blade is indexed down over her back, "C'mon, drinks on me." If she can get them out before the fight starts, great, if the fight breaks out first.... well... then it becomes an article of faith.
Sabina is also attempting to get the group to leave.
Serene had shifted.. not so much a step forward as a slight lean, as if ready to do so.. but then settles back down upon her heels as Akorinil speaks. And makes a bit of a sour face. Being 'liked' by a priest of Taara is clearly not high on her list of favourable things. She returns the delegates glance, contemplating a rejoinder perhaps.. then shakes her head, regretting what she'd contributed already. Braelnoir and Cryosanthia get a short, quick nod. "Yes. Merek.. it is best to leave the esteemed diplomat to her shopping for the evening. If she has any worthwhile information to offer, there will be a time and a place for it. This is not that time nor is it that place."
Cryosanthia feels Braelnoir's light squeeze of her hand. Unfortunately her return grip is much tighter, and colder. It only grows worse as Merek works his spells, then his mouth. After his exchange with Molly, the white lizard glances once more at Serene. Operation Orange Slice a success in two moves.
She moves in with Braelnoir to save Merek, grabbing his arm and lifting with her scale-sister to drag the man off. She issues a cryptic explanation, "We'll take care of him."
She's three steps into half-carrying him away when she's addressed. She halts, exhales.
"This one feels nothing." The icy sith states, speaking without turning to face the priestess. "This one is not socializing. Bring news of Lady Shrulvus if you wish a diplomatic discourse."
That stated, she continues her effort to get Merek away from the situation, marching with Braelnoir.
Molly nods once to Merek. "Appology accepted," she replies. "We will let it be water under the bridge, there is no need to speak of it again." She lets her gaze linger on Merek a moment later, before she returns her gaze to the Taarite Priestess. "I..." her brow knits, and she shifts her hands to straighten her attire. "Well. Thank you," she concedes. "I would like to talk to you again," she adds. "My name is Molly Nephenee; and I'm sure you can work out which temple to find me at. All are welcome in the hallowed halls of Navos, afterall."
"The Paladin is correct, as they so often assure us they are," remarks Akorinil, lightly jibing the Paladin.
"Come on, then, Serene. I've got so many more things to buy. I understawnd there's a popular place for gambling none too far from here..."
She doesn't respond to Cryosanthia. She's keeping an eye on Merek, of course, just in case, but she doesn't seem overly concerned at this moment. Her guards, anxiouas all get out, seem eager to be on their way.
Merek looks then to the Priestess, while both of the friends of his begin to try and keep him away from the shadow elf. There's a look to Molly, "I wouldn't trust any of that. Remember always what Taara's people did, even if you welcome them." There's a look to Cryosanthia, and to Braelnoir. He thinks of the woman's words, "I know well the path I need to follow. Don't think that means I won't fight. When he took me, I paid penance, I came to know things even your mind wouldn't be able to comprehend. And now that I'm free? I'm more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
There's a look to both of his friends, while he begins to speak a word of calm, for himself, for the two. If they permit it be used upon them, if not he would let the magic draw away from them. "Cryo. You know well why you shouldn't let her words even come to mind." He's speaking about something she will probably know he means without mentioning in front of the shadow elf. Then he would follow the two away.
GAME: Merek casts Calm Emotions. Caster Level: 12 DC: 16
"Of course, my dear. I'm in the city for an unforutnately extended duration. Hopefully, we can speak again, if you so wish," Akorinil replies, giving her a polite nod. "Perhaps I will come speak to you soon. I'm sure it will be magical."
Cryo is not letting any spells affect her if she has the choice. "Merek, do not speak freely in front of enemies. Do not give away information. Loose tongues cost me..." She cuts off immediately. Perhaps she'll share later, out of earshot, or never. Silence is the best option, she's already given away a lot.
The white sith does her best to get away with Braelnoir, Sabina, and Merek before things turn worse.
Serene closes her eyes briefly, letting her breath out between slightly pursed lips.. and expression suggesting she's asking on high for her patience to be bolstered. Then she opens her eyes, gathers up her horse's reins and sets to follow Akorinil and her assigned guards. At a distance. A large distance.
Molly courtsies to the Taarite Priestess, bobs her head, and smiles. "I will look forward to seeing you," she replies, before she backs off a step. She glances towards Merek once more, and shakes her head. "I haven't seen another Mul'Niessa in quite some time. I grew up amongst my people. I will be fine." She perks an eyebrow upwards, before she makes a swift exit; apparently she has more to do in a short time.
Braelnoir keeps moving along with the others, glancing at Akorinil, then to Selene again, "Sure'nough." she remarks. With her family continuing to poke the tiger, she growls a little bit reindexes the haft of her weapon to the blade out/up position.
Tonight could be the night....
"I know not to speak freely," Merek notes, which is why he'd mentioned no specifics. "Either way, she seems to know enough already. We can learn more when she isn't trying to get people to try and take the bait. She will only try to change our mind with deceptions." If no one takes the magic he wouldn't offer it, he does look to the weapon that Brae keeps. "I want whiskey." There's a sigh, he clearly isn't taking any bait. He's become mentally competent, resisting that wish.
Cryo remains silent. Sabina's offer of the Tarrace is good, and she'll take the Tarienite up on it. A swim would be nice too, and lying on the bottom of the women's pool. She focuses her mind on that, to betray nothing else.
