Cryo 1, arrival Alexandria

Log Info

• Title: Cryo 1, arrival Alexandria
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia Level 2, Gregor Level 2,
• Place: Alexandria - Mictlan, Am'Shere Portal
• Time: Tuesday, January 21, 2020, 9:51 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia arrives at Alexandria, meets Gregor.

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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 central Fire.

The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.

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Cryosanthia     A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos 15s  1h
Gregor          A six-two Arvek with brown hair and a thick build.    1m   5m

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Approaching Alexandria, from the portal to Am'Shere. It had been weeks of travel through the jungle for the trade caravan. The distance had not been great, but the going was slow. The goods had to be carried by beasts or on the back because the vegetation was too dense for carts. At best, a howdah on one of the giant lizards could be converted to a carriage once there were trails wide enough. There was a road and a stop-over town on the Am'Shere Portal side, but for the most part the group walked rather than rolled through to Alexandria. Once crossed over, they were met with customs, druids, and decontamination; a review of papers and a washdown with spells intended to protect and detect.

Gregor is generally helping around the area. He's a hunter and a scout, so he often will bring his catch in, and those here who cook will cook it up. Meanwhile, he's chatting about the local conditions and how the winter's progressing with the hunter castes off to one side.

One of the working caravaners hangs out of sight behind one of the howdah beasts. Cryosanthia, a tall and lithe Sith-Makar, was a genial jobber that stood out socially. She was quite conversational, although her topics seemed focused around making herself interesting, and while she would grill the others for unusual stories she didn't seem to attach them to faces and occasionally told them back to their source. She slips a hand up to her necklace pouch, squeezing it and listening to the scales inside grind against each other. Strong exhale, inhale. She tells herself, "Okay, make an impression. She scrambles up the side of the luggage beast. Cryosanthia throws her arms high and wide, standing as visible as possible. "CITIZENS OF ALEXANDRIA! Mark this day! Today I, Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar, arrive as Envoy from Am'Shere to share the wit and wisdom of my homeland. I bid thee welcome me and accept my frienship for your great city."

Gregor looks up at Cryosanthia, then looks back and forth between a few of his fellow hunter-caste members. There is a murmur of acceptance and calls along the lines of 'Welcome, speaker!'. Gregor gives a shrug and joins in a brief applaud. It's as good an introduction as any, and a few of the Sith will introduce themselves by caste and name. Gregor winds up doing so as well after a pause and some pointed looks his way. "Gregor Augustin. Hunter caste, probably." He doesn't do the caste thing normally, but that's probably where he falls.

Cryosanthia taps a list off on her thigh, whispering under her breath, she inhales hard again, runs forward, talons clenching on the edge of the crate then she leaps in the air. Her tail whips to power her through a forward flip, landing on the flagstones with a flourish and wide sweep of her cape. Sunlight reflects off her cape's lining and she searches the quay for clusters of people. Spotting Gregor's group, she waves in greeting, shouts, "Hello! Please cheer my name, Cryosanthia!" and gestures arcanely.

Gregor watches, and offers some applause. The leap was pretty impressive. One or two of the hunters call out, "Cryosanthia!" approvingly. It -was- a good move. He's not generally a shouty person himself, but there is a generally positive response. It was a good flip. He's Arvek, he's a bit out of his element, but the sith seem to view her favorably.

GAME: Cryosanthia casts Ghost Sound. Caster Level: 1 DC: 13
GAME: Gregor rolls will: (20)+1: 21 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

Ghost Sounds erupt behind Gregor's group, a small chorus of voices cheering "Cryosanthia!" Hearing actual cheers as well, Cryo's smile becomes more natural and is followed with more waving. Looking around, she selects another group and repeats her casting. Gregor looks around for a moment, wondering at something, but he shrugs and says to one of the other hunters, "That was a pretty good flip. I've seen fellows fall off a horse, and it can be much worse, let me tell you."

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls athletics: (9)+6: 15
GAME: Cryosanthia takes ten on acrobatics: (10)+3: 13

Cryosanthia skips forward, surging low then launching herself into a backflip, again assisted with a swipe of her tail. It's accomplished, but rough. She lands on all fours, swaying her weight from arm to arm as she waves her body in counterbalance. This is followed by another arcane gesture for Ghost Sound beside her mouth. She creates a roar as loud as four Humans or perhaps three Sith-Makar, to which she adds her own bellowing shout to complete and enhance the illusion.

GAME: Gregor rolls will: (12)+1: 13

Gregor is a bit less impressed with this next move, but someone seems to like it. He's not sure who, but that's a Sith problem and not his. "Are you okay there?" he calls out. "You looked a bit stumbly there at the end?" Not that a bit of entertainment is amiss, it's generally somewhat stoic and serious, at least around him. But he's Arvek, he tends to the stoic and serious, himself.

"I'm fine! Yes, I'm fine!" Cryosanthia grins back, looking around for other clusters of Sith-Makar that are watching, but perhaps not as caught up in her show. Waving, hands up lifting, she attempt to groundswell the sound as she spins around, building to a finish and calling out "I greet thee! Remember me, Cryosanthia!"

Gregor will step back when she says she's OK, and now it's definitely a spectacle thing. The hands waving and such is a bit more excitement than he's used to, but it seems to be going over well enough. Sometimes excitement is fun, and it's better if it's not because a bear is eating someone. Some of the Sith have gotten quite enthusiastic, paarticularly the young ones, who have mostly abandoned their chores to watch.

GAME: Cryosanthia casts Snapdragon Fireworks. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia casts Snapdragon Fireworks. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia casts Snapdragon Fireworks. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perform/comedy: (13)+7: 20
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls sleight of hand: (4)+7: 11

The lithe Sith-Makar leaps to her feet, pirouetting through a short dance of dramatic poses. They are meant to conceal three more castings, but those turn out to be rather obvious as they activate while she moves through her pantomime. A tiny dragon emerges from her cloak and zigzags around before flying upwards and detonates high above the square with a bang and a colorful burst of fire and light, followed by another, then another.

With the final explosion, Cryosanthia stands tall, arms upwards, mirroring her starting pose. Her mouth stretches wide, baring her teeth in a hopeful grin. She holds it, cheeks twitching, listening intently.

Gregor and the rest of the SIth give a round of applause at the finale. Even with the castings pretty obvious, it looked all pretty well part of the dance and show and even the stiff Gregor calls out, "Well done!" as the fireworks light the sky. That's not a spell he's seen before, either, so it's pretty interesting.

Cryosanthia holds her pose, panting heavily and basking in the attention and the applause. Her smile is fixed on her face, warm and genuine, even if there is a tightness around her eyes. She bows, sweeping her arm, the bows again with the other, the tradition stage-left and stage-right, and with a skip looks around for somewhere to exeunt. Over towards Gregor seems the best choice, perhaps because he's the least familiar thing here.

Gregor senses that the show is over, and, well, that was a pretty impressive finale, so he seems pretty pleased. The Sith are all walking amongst themselves and are a bit slow to get back to work, still oooh-ing and aaaah-ing over the impromptu performance. He will shoot Cryosanthia a smile as she exits her stage in his direction. He's not sure how the caste thing works, himself, so he'll simply smile and greet her casually with a, "Good evening to you. That was quite a little performance you gave. I didn't know the Sith had performers at all."

"Thank you, we do, although not many choose to be. I am of the Speaker caste, who are tasked to arbitrate and translate, and absorb and spread culture. It's not the most direct form of diplomacy perhaps, but I want to be approachable and a bit of a show helps." Cryosanthia conceals her heavy breathing, holding her breath to quell any panting. Down to her tailtip, she is very still. She executes a formal bow, "It's a pleasure to meet you Gregor Augustin, Hunter Caste."

Gregor ahhhhs, and he nods slowly. "I see," he says, though he winces at hunter caste. "We Arvek do not do castes as you do. I say it that that so it's less confusing, but it's not the sum of who I am." He shrugs a bit. "I was a cavalry scout in the Blar army before coming to Alexandria, though, so I could be a hunter caste or a soldier caste, but I do more hunting, I think, so here I am."

Cryosanthia nods, staying at enough of a distance from Gregor that she avoids looking down on him, "I understand, and appreciate the explanation. It is helpful to build out details on something familiar. I know our castes do not align with other cultures exactly. This is my second assignment. My first was a mission into Charnath territory..." She glances away at foliage, then her eyes follow the bones of the ancient dragon up, and away into the sky before she returns, "It did not go well. I'm very glad to be in Alexandria instead."

Gregor wrinkles his nose about Charn, and he says, "That's never an easy mission." Catching that it didn't go well, he mumbles, "Sorry to heat that. Better luck here in Alexandria. I got a fresh start here just a couple years ago, myself. Nothing so dramatic as that, but there were no wars on and without a war, advancement in the army is slow." Particularly for a 'low-caste' Arvek like himself. It's the plain coloring. "So I came here for a fresh start as well. I've got a few things to show for it, so I think I'm doing well."

"You do have very striking and effective looking kit. That is an impressive breastplate. I am left to my own devices here, to make my way. Any hints on where to start fresh would be appreciated." Cryosanthia smiles again, nodding and glad to move on from the past, "I am finally free of the caravan. I travelled light, so I could carry heavy for them. A place to sleep with new faces is first on my list."

Gregor ehs, "Well, this isn't Alexandria proper," he explains. "This is just the portal. Alexandria's down this road a ways." He points. "I can show you the way if you like?" he offers. "You'll find the city all full of pretty much everything and everyone, but the Explorers' Guild is probably where you'll want to go to get started. They'll find you work and such."

Cryosanthia says, "Yes, I would like that. The Explorer's Guild. Guilds are like castes, but not, yes? More than a short association but not fully defining oneself either? I'm used to asking the elders for work, or being told. I'm looking forward to new ideas." And perhaps, being overwhelmed just a little.

And the two head off into the great city.

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Cryosanthia (https://www.furaffinity.net/view/34708561/)

Cryosanthia is a tall, lithe lizardgirl with flamboyant mannerisms and a flashy style. Her scales are a bright, snow white, complimented by her frills and keratin-scale 'hair' which are the pale blue found in glacial ice. This gleaming tapestry is marred by dark tattoos gouged in her hide, green-black in colouration, which at times have a dark glow. Her snout is long and tapers elegantly. Her legs and tail are likewise graceful, despite being a significant portion of her size and mass. She seems light on her talons and energetic, head glancing quick from side to side. Her eyes are bright and like her frills, the palest of blues with a dramatic slit pupil.

Cryosanthia's clothes are a simple kit of kilted leather armour in white. It is close fitting enough to seem a part of her, but it lacks the lustre of her scales having instead a dull finish. She has sandals that leave her talons free, as well as a hat that is hanging to the back as often as it is on her head. A long blue feather is tucked into the woven band. Finally, she wears a cloak, likewise fashioned from white leather but with a satin interior that matches her eyes. It gleams when the light catches it right. Belted to her hip she has a rapier, a couple of pouches, and a tiny bag on a thong around her long neck.

Gregor This hobgoblin is the image of a recruiting-poster-sharp soldier. Apart from being colored in wrong. He's an arvek, a hobgoblin, so he's over six feet, massively built, and his skin's a grayish brown, a bit paler across the face and nose. An Arvek Nar recruiting poster would have flaming orange skin with blue on the tip of his nose, but that's a mark of distinction and nobility and Gregor lacks anything like that. He does have a chin you could use to moor ships, and light brown hair, clipped short on top of his head, with a pencil-thin mustache. His eyes seem to be colorless, a very faint yellow if you look really closely. His shoulders are quite broad, making his chest massive, ballooning over his waist, though he's pretty thick all-through if one looks closely. Clearly athletic, he has the deep chest of a distance runner, though the arms and legs of a power lifter.

He wears a crisply cut shirt of starched white, with a dark gray suit-coat overtop, cut sharply and well-tailored. The gray coat has leather patches on the shoulders, where the straps of his breastplate press down. The sleeves of the coat are a little fancy, with piping running down the seam from shoulder to cuff, and around the cuff. A slightly darker area on the top of the sleeve marks where some sort of patch was removed. The breastplate is decent steel, with scrollwork across the neck and around the shoulders, with a military logo on the upper left. His trousers are the same dark gray as his coat, with similar piping down the seam, tucked into knee-high cavalry boots. He wears a heavy belt, to which are clipped a flail and a dagger, and he wears a pack on his back, stuffed with provisions and basic camping needs. There is a steel shield across his back, with a fancy heraldic-looking device on the boss, and, when mounted, he carries a lance with a pale blue pennant.