Alexandria Acclimation 101
Log Info
- Title: Shoulder of Giants
- Place: W02: Mictlan
- Summary: Seyardu meets Harkashan in mictlan as she is making her rounds delivering food. The new makari makes the cleric pause in her work, and the two discuss the various difficulties in living outside of Am'shere, and how best to handle them going forward.
Mictlan, early afternoon.
It was in the general lul of midday when Seyardu was making her rounds about the camp, a break for lunch for those not still out in the forest on whatever tasks they saw to.
The rather small, silver makari, was carrying an almost comically large cast iron cauldron of stew in one hand, and a large basket of bread in the other, with bowls to serve them with. Dressed in leathers common to Mictlan, the cleric went about their rounds, seeing to everyone who was still to busy to make their own ways to the cooking fires.
GAME: Harkashan rolls Herbology: (4)+Herbology: 4
GAME: Harkashan rolls 4 + 7: (13)+4+7: 24
There's been a bit of talk in the camp, on the arrival of a particular Sith-makar. Though someone else of her age may not be as familiar with the name being spoken of - being a Cleric, she very well might. A respected older Sith-makar, in as far as closer to 150 years of age is 'old' amongst them, has recently arrived on this side of the rift.
Harkashan, a name known to those who have been active in the war against the Charneth simply for the amount of burials he assisted in, happens to be approaching her. Certainly not the tallest Sith-makar himself at almost two meters, a crimson one seems to be approaching her. By the greys of his cloth and armor, it should be obvious he is a Death Singer, but there's something else there. Color. Lava stones knit and laced into his armor, and a larger one hanging between his crown of horns. A variety of muted, but beautiful, colors that mark the male's armor.
He comes to sit across from the silver makari, his tail curling a bit around his feet as he settles in. Pulling a satchel at his side, he reveals a few bundles of herbs that are certainly harder to come by during this season. He offers some of them out to the silver one. Flavors to help improve the stew, if she so wishes.
Notably, he doesn't speak during this. Instead, there's just this constant growly rumble from his breath, like one might expect from a dragon.
The small makari wandering the camps continued their work, and eventually their path led them to where the older cleric too a seat. Seyardu set the cauldron down gently on the ground, and reached to take the offered herbs, tail swaying behind them.
"Peace on your nest, shaman. This one thanks you for your harvest, it should improve the stew quite substantially" The silverscale greets. "This one knows most of the faces here by now, but not yours. AS such, it is a good day to make your acquaintance."
Harkashan inclines his head into a respectful nod, as she speaks to him. "Peace on your Nest, Shaman." He answers her, as his tail curls a bit closer to the fire. Warmth eminating from him clearly, even within the protection of the dragon's bones that form the edges of Mictlan. Notably, his way of talking isn't as 'Makari' as most. Less hisses, signs of a Speaker in these lands. Yet she would be certain, this one is welcomed as a Shaman.
"I am (...) This one is Death Singer Harkashan." It seems he's adjusting himself a bit back when being in this camp however. Correcting himself to speak more in a manner that fits his own culture. It's a word that translates rather directly into 'Inferno'. A rather fitting name, for someone with such a lava-like scale pattern.
But certainly, knowing the Shamans, there is more to that name than just looks.
"Who doesss this one have the pleasure of speaking to, honored silvren one?" He then inquires.
The silver makari takes the bundles of herbs to inspect them, before tearing them apart to add to the stew. "This one always tells those in Mictlan, this one does not see themselves any different from the color of their scales, since they look no different to any other." The cleric rumbles in laughter. "I did not wish to assume, but this one thought you may be the Harkashan spoken of in camp. It is good to meet the one behind the name. You offered your findings for the meal, would you like some, then? It is for all to partake who need it, of course."
Harkashan rumbles, "You know very well, our peoples' takenness with those of silvren scales." The Sith-makar points out to the one before him. "So, I speak with respect." Certainly, she may not be 'different' from them, but she has her own ways of standing out regardless.
He then nods his head. "Regardless, I would still ask for your name." As it has gone without being spoken. "And please, I would appreciate some of this meal when the herbs have had their time to join the flavor of the broth." He adds. There was a nod in regards to being the Harkashan spoken of in the camp, but much like she noted that she looks no different of any other, he simply accepts the statement with just that - a single nod. Acknowledgement, but not looking to draw particular attention to it himself.
"This one does, even if they do not understand it. Nor is there a wish to be put on a pedestal for unimportant reasons." The cleric laughs. "Of course, and apologies, while this one does their best to know everyone else, they oftentimes forget to introduce themselves. This one is Seyardu, shaman caste, and servant to the celestial nest-mother." She continues, taking the ladle in the cauldron to give it a stir. "This one is always lucky to have the chance to meet experienced shamans such as yourself."
Harkashan repeats her name; "Seyardu." His tongue flicking out for a moment. Almost like he's tasting her name - or perhaps just taking in the scent of the stew being made. Whichever it may be, it seems he takes to appreciating her name.
He then lets out a dire rumble; "Experienced in burying the dead. But lacking in many ways still. Which is why this one has come here. To see if he can help make a difference here." The male expresses towards her, while taking a moment to better take in the shape of this one. Taking particular note of the vines on her arm - staring just long enough she might notice.
"Though as of yet - too lost to know where to best move to garner that information."
"There is much wisdom to be gained in such tasks. Even if it is a repetition, you are still honoring the death singer with your rituals, just as much as your kin." The silverscale smiles. A strange expression for a sith-makar, uncommon, and somewhat unsettling to softskins in spite of the intent. "But, this one understands your desire to seek out knowledge and provide elsewhere. It is what brought them out of the jungles for the most part."
The look at their arm does not go unnoticed, and the cleric stretches out their arm to make it more visible. "If you are curious about this, this one is as well still. It is believed to be a sign of their connection to the celestial mother, and a reminder of those to protect and aid those in need, much as a garden needs care to flourish and provide."
He hrrms thoughtfully. He wasn't complaining. He takes great pride in the burial rituals he partakes in. But there is more than that to his task as a Death Singer. And what's more, this one is also accepted by the Speaker caste, and it is his wish to sing the silver empress' song to those beyond their borders.
"What have you found so far, beyond the jungles?" Harkashan asks - part of which she answers in turn about the celestial mother. Speaking of gardens and green.
A slow nod follows. "This one hears tale of Green coming alive, and being corrupted as of late. With a connection such as that, it must be worrying you."
"That is a good goal, Harkashan." The Cleric nods back slowly. "Our people are less known outside of the jungles, so there are always those needed to spread the word of our arrival, and make our value known to the others."
The silver cleric considers the question for a moment, stirring the stew again as they think of what to say.
"This one has found many things beyond the jungles. While the landscape is wildly different, it is, much safer, here, in most regards. The young here grow, and there are less deaths to disease and beasts. But at the same time, it is not a life for those who miss the jungles, either."
"As for the people, you will find most are simply trying to go about their lives, or kind and helpful to those offering aid. Not all softskins are like the charneth, and not even all mul'niessa are like those of charn. In fact, one of this one's closest friends in the city is one, and they would trust no one more. Many here are those seeking a life away from those across the sea."
The small makari looks to their arm, and shakes their head. "This one is not worried of such a connection. It was some time before the forests came alive, and through them, this one is able to channel further healing to those in need. Although, perhaps this one should investigate further, so they are not caught off guard."
Another rumble of acknowledgement follows as the Cleric speaks of spreading the word if the Sith beyond the jungles. But it isn't long after that she shifts to a more risky topic.
"There is less danger, yet more danger. The dangers of the jungle are high, but oft known. Here, fools seek to gain coinage through stealing from others. Empires war and negotiate amongst eachother, lacking a common foe and understanding." He retorts. Words that one might expect from a follower of the teacher. Yet...
He nods as she notes that not all softskins are like the Charneth. "I would not be here, were it not for one of those very softskins. Though the idea of trusting one of Charn is still... alien to this one." He points out to Seyardu with some measure of concern. After all, it's not beyond the Charn to run a plan to get on the inside - some kind of 'long con'.
It's a healthy bit of suspicion though, rather than coming from somewhere more hateful.
"Let me know if you wish to go and investigate there. Though my arts of healing may not be as powerful as your own, I may be able to be of assistance." He bids to her.
At that, the small cleric sighed, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I would not go as far to say that this place is not without danger, from from that, in fact. The people go about their lives, but they are not as quick to help as kin are, and most expect payment for their aid. It is important to keep gold, copper and silver coins on hand should you spend any time in the city, in order to make sure you have enough to eat and a place to sleep. Should you need food however, the temple of Althea always has it's door open, and a hot meal given freely. This one thanks you for the offer Harkashan, abilities mean little when sometimes the necessary course is just a different mind and view on a matter."
"I understand, and can not expect everyone to feel the same as I do." She nods slowly again. "Nor would I wish that, as Charn is dangerous, and not to be taken lightly. And Alexandria has a very shaky truce with them. Enough to not let this one act without evidence being abruptly in their faces."
There was some anger their, creeping into their demeanor, but it passed with a puff of air. "Do not count on the guard to be of aid if you need it, but do not outright oppose them, either. If any give you trouble, do not hesitate to seek this one out. Mictlan will not harbor kin who are criminals, but the city and the people sometimes have differing ideas of what constitutes a crime."
Anger around the topic of the Charn is something that is hardly alien to Harkashan, or anyone else of Sith-makar who have lived within the jungles for long enough. When she mentions the guard, his brow furrows though. The idea of a Warrior-castle - the guard - somehow deciding to turn a blind eye when aid is needed bothers him.
"One would think that they would be more united, after so many years of calamity incurred upon them. As well as the Sith-makar's aid during the matter of Thul's cold blooded ones assailing this region." The Death Singer answers her with that heavy deep growl in his voice indicating some amount of concern.
A small shake of his head. The idea of there even being a _truce_ between Charn and Alexandria does cause him to bristle a bit. "I suppose it is a lack of understanding of 'community' - or a different point of view - as you mention." But he's not here to philosophise about such things. It's hardly like the Sith-makar are perfect in their own right.
"It is not their fault, at least, not entirely. Most of the guard is helpful, but, there are those in charge who can have their own purposes." The cleric explains with another slightly irritated chuff. "This city and most softskin ones revolve around the trade of gold pieces for goods and services rendered. The guard needs gold to pay for their equipment, training, and wages, so those who give said gold need to keep giving them gold, which can lead to various favors enacted on whatever scale."
"Charn is too powerful to oppose outright. Some feel it best to not antagonize them, so they might keep an eye on what they are doing, rather than it be hidden."
"Alexandria has it's problems, but many are not the problems of the people. This one has hoped that the further they help in the city, the more change they can make. Perhaps that will come, in time."
/me rumbles a sound of understanding. "Indeed." He bids to her. "Gold does seem to be rather important. I understand its function. But it certainly seems to... spread a problem around." Not one he knows how to solve. The barter system isn't exactly fair at all times either. But then, the sense of 'fair' is completely different to the Sith-makar.
"And I do not envy their position. Having beings like us approach them, asking them to aid us against the Charn. One might say this is not their war..." Even if the Charn have plagued Alexandria plenty.
A small shake of his head. It's all so big. Though the Sith-makar have repelled the Charn quite succesfully within their own jungles, that doesn't mean they've turned the war upon them either.
"It is a problem and a solution in equal measure, and one ingrained into softskin society to the point it would not function without it. One gets used to it, in time." The cleric rumbles in laughter. "If you find yourself in need of gold in the city, there are always jobs to be done. The docks are always looking for those to load and unload the ships coming and going, and makari, other than outliers such as myself, tend to be well equipped for such transport. A days work until sundown there is usually enough to make sure you have enough for food and shelter."
"Yes, we have our own troubles with Charn, but they are still not to be trusted. Much like how the city turned their attention away from dragonier during it's fall, until the undead were enroaching on their own walls. Some will not see a threat until it is staring them in the face, and one can only hope that they will not be caught unable to do anything when that time comes." The cleric muses, leaning to sniff the stew and seeming pleased with it, as they ladle out a bowl to hand over. "If you are looking for further work, one might seek out the adventurer's guild, but I would warn that it is quite dangerous. One must always be as prepared as possible before seeking work there, as injury is commonplace, and worse not unheard of."
Harkashan listens to her speak on more of the softskin society. It is in many ways, not his problem. But at the same time, being here <makes> it his problem. So far, the Sith-makar favor contacting and speaking with the druidic circles. But if he's going to understand and draw more forces, more alliances into this matter, he's going to have to get used to their ways. Learn more of them.
He accepts the bowl offered to him, and then settles back again. "This one has heard much of the Adventurer's Guild. Another place that relies on money to get things done. It's rather curious, in a way. This one suposes it is a force capable of moving quicker than their armies - bound by their 'red tape'. Requiring more unusual and specialized forces." Yet still driven by money.
Indeed. He will have to get used to it.
"This one will consider speaking to the Adventurer's Guild for more details." He then turns to her for a moment, as he begins to taste the stew. It tastes good. The herbs definitely do help.
"Yes, they are for jobs posted by the city the guard can not handle or choose not to handle, or private requests made by citizens as well. They pay well in comparison to normal work, but they are dangerous, and the work is much less reliable." The silver cleric nods. "They are used by the city when they wish for deniability on various matters. They have earned a bit of ire from the city for many reasons, some false, some with truth to them, so one must be mindful of how they present themselves on such jobs."
"And, this is strange, being here and offering someone new advice. It was not that long ago, perhaps a few years now, that this one was in the same place." Seyardu chuckles. "A word of advice, if you do end up taking their jobs. Keep a few weapons on hand. Those treated from alchemical silver or forged from cold iron. If not for yourself, then for those you are working with who did not. There are many strange beasts, especially with the forests acting so strangely, and some will barely be injured by steel or volcanic glass."
"You are not the first to recommend I ensure I bring something with alchemical silver or cold iron with me. Especially since the problems in the Felwoods seem to be of a fiendish or fey nature." Harkashan remarks with a bit of bemusement. "Would you have any recommendations on who to speak to? Shops or people who might be able to arrange such weapons for me?" After all, as she may have noticed at his side, is just a singular Khopesh. The weapon favored by those of Vardama...
But it doesn't look like it's very special, beyond just being rather well made.
"I very much appreciate the words of wisdom. As much as it may only have been a short time since you received such wisdoms yourself, it very well may mean the difference of life and death for me."
"This one did not receive such wisdom in the past, though, it may have saved many troubles if this one did." Seyardu chuckles again, ladling out some more stew for herself. "I am glad that others are aware of such dangers now however, and you are right. It is not always possible to flee, so one must make sure they are capable of meeting what challenges they may."
"The adventurers guild have various contacts for supplies, but the best place to start would be in the lower trades district. On the western side of the Tornmawr, it is not far from the markets. More obscure weaponry such as a blade like those used by the mourners are often made to order if one would require one in a specialized material."
"Tornmawr." Again, there's that flit of the tongue. Memorizing the name. Lower trade district, so he imagines it must be in Alexandria. "Very well." A nod of his head. He takes note of the term 'mourners', and is quick to relate it back to Vardama. A touch of his hand to the blade at his side, glancing at it for a moment to convey his understanding, then looks down to his bowl of stew and begins to work on it a bit more quickly.
"This one finds that fleeing has so rarely been an option." What with Charn's rather relentless tactics. "So the better this one can protect my allies, and aid them in the battles to come... well... the better." He considers for a moment what other common tools he might need to go dealing with the Adventurer's Guild's 'quests'. "Any other materials you might recommend I ensure I bring?"
"Ah, right. Mourners, followers of the death singing dragon in softskin tongue." The cleric notes, seeming to make some connection to the way the other makari was processing terms. "Their temple is in the mountains east of the city, should you need to seek them out."
"As for tools and equipment for work with the adventurer's guild?" The cleric asks and considers, resting their chin against one hand before they continue. "If there is one constant, it is that you can never be certain what exactly you might need. At least one alchemical potion for staunching wounds never goes amiss, even as a follower of the gods. When one finds themself spent, even an inexpensive brew may stabilize one long enough for them to recover. This one imagines you do not need tools for starting a fire, but it never hurts to bring a coil of rope, more than one, and supplies for climbing. You will not always need them, but jobs can send you to many places you would not expect to be."
There's a familiarity with the temple she mentions. His speech may betray it, but he's not fully alien to these lands. He however still favors the jingles of Am'shere. Though he's not visited the temple of the Mourners in quite a while.
"Potions, I believe they are referred to, yes?" He asks of the cleric before him. "Yes, that would be good. I'll have to see what rate they are going at these days." He remarks. "And you are correct. I usually can start a fire quite well. I have one coil of rope. But no climbing supplies." He takes note of that latter part. Taking mental note.
"The requirements for safety here are very different from whence we come." He observes.
"Yes, potions. There are many that you may find useful, but they can vary quite significantly in price. You should be able to find them in the markets of Alexandria, you'll pass through them on the way to the lower trades district." The cleric nods. "It seems you know some of the city already though, do you not? This one may be assuming, but if you need directions, you can always ask the guards in town. Just do not be offended if they refer to you as miss or madam."
"Well, there are less immediate dangers here, so they manage what they can to keep safe. And softskins are, they are soft skinned. While you may walk bare foot through a jungle, a bad step on a sharp rock may seriously cripple a softskin who is not adequately prepared." The silverscale notes.
"Softskins are softskins." He agrees. There are reasons that the Sith-makar would use traps that targetted the 'footing' of the Charneth in the jungles. Boots of scales, it did not matter to a sharp enough series of sticks or rocks. Primitive, as they would call it, but highly effective.
"I am indeed somewhat familiar with the city. But I am less familiar with my next best steps - so to speak. I have purpose, but I need some threads to start pulling on. Preparing myself is a good first step." He answers the Sith-makar before him. She may be much younger than him, but there is no lack of respect for her. In fact, his expression shows quite easily that he favors her quite a bit thanks to this conversation.
Even old Sith-makar still have much to learn. And when it comes to the battles outside of Am'shere, he may as well be a hatchling.
"It is a good first step. When you are prepared, the unknowns feel a bit less daunting. It never gets easy, but it should not. New experiences in work with the guild should always be treated with caution. If you need healing potions specifically, this one may be able to be of service. This one is capable of brewing some of them. Should you provide the materials, this one would be happy to help. The herbs you provided for the stew were already quite good, and this one is not particularly adept at gathering plants. For their own safety, they would not wish to mix up what they gather and harm someone."
The small cleric finishes off their bowl, and sets it aside. "This one hopes they've been of aid, it is often disorienting to many coming here. And, remember that this is a place uncertain to many kin. Often leave Am'shere for their own reasons, so be understanding to those you find here. Many have had difficult times, and come here seeking a new life."
The male nods at the woman before him. "I can certainly provide you with materials in order to create potions. Though I might need you to tell me about the local variants so I can look them up." He motions at the stew. "After all, these are certainly different spices than those found within Am'shere."
He then slowly begins to rise up, offering her the bowl back. "Thank you for your assistance. I may come back to ask further questions at a later time. But I should try and find my traveling partner. It's said she's somewhere in this camp." He's referring to Leirune, a half-sil.
"If you see a tall, dark green makari named Sjach, speak to him if you have any questions about local plants. They know the area well, and this one often relies on them for any they need." The cleric suggest, seeming happier at mention of them. "I understand, this one is always glad to be of service. This one is around here often, or at the temple of Althea in the city. Travel between the two is quick for this one. If you find them, let them know they are welcome to the food and shelter here as well. I do not know if I have met them yet, but I'll let them know you are looking for them. Granted, you are difficult to miss, in that case."
"This one thanks you." The Sith-makar answers her, taking note of the name given. Again, repeating the name; Sjach. A short name, compared to many of the Sith-makar he's met as of late. A little tidbit he files away for later. "I will let Leirune know if I manage to find her that there is stew to be had. She'll probably appreciate it." He guesses, though there's a bit of... hard to read emotion there.
Unlike the Cleric's response to speaking of the dark green Sjach, his mention of Leirune seems conflicted. Odd, for someone who seems to be seeking out their travel companion. It's not a dislike. More... an uncertainty. A wondering about something.
He nods his head and bids his farewells, and heads on off.