Snowballs in the Gardens

Althea's warmth, Daeus' light and Dana's greenery hold sway here in the Lower Gardens, perennially free of snow, cold and ice. A green patch amidst the grey and snowy white of Winter. A few people wander the paths, taking respite from the cold, perhaps enjoying a break from work or play, or on their way to one of the pubs or inns nearby.

The faint thrum of a fiddle can be heard from nearby, playing a jaunty tune, taking from an older marching song. Wanderers of the path can't help by find themselves in step to the cheery tune. But try as one might, the player is unseen, though close.

the face of Ous is not one that has been seen much around the city of late. A slight uptick in bar fights, and the fact that the Barkeep at the Ox is perpetually annoyed of late have indicated that the Ranger might be back though. Now it is that the large Aesir makes his way through the streets. Coming into the lower garden district, the large Mastiff at his side. Dressed in his usual buckskin pants, and Thick shirt made of Elk hides and trimmed in Wolf fur, he wears a mottled heavy wool cloak sporting various earth tones. Apparently holding a conversation with the brindled dog at his side as he moves. "Aye'm no th' one what started it this time. Aye gave 'em lots of chances no tae fight. them buggers pressed th' matter."

Dog, for his part just chuffs quietly, still padding along at a comfortable clip beside his partner. before Ous speaks once more. "Ye're prolly right. We'll jes' give rose a bit o time tae cool down. an maybe find one of them wood workin' types tae make her a couple new tables. She'll be right as rain."

Mikilos is less bothered by the cold than most, but the warmth of the Gardens is still plesant, and so it's there the wizard has wandered, reading from a large text as his feet carry him onward.

Pausing at an intersection of path, the elf glances up from his reading, distracted by the sound of music. Then further distracted when the source is not obvious.

Upon one of the greeneries, was standing a larger greenery. Or in this case, a figure thoroughly wrapped up in green and brown cloaks. For what seemed quite the time by now, the figure had been there - black beak turned towards the source of the music.

Crik has been holding back the urge to let out a caw for quite some time now.

The music continues unabated, though it does get closer. The player, perhaps on the street, or wandering between the greenery, is definitely moving parallel to the path.

The song comes to a riotous and raucous end, followed by the sudden appearance of the fiddle itself, turning end over end through the air, heading right for Ous' head. A moment before impact it vanishes in a puff of smoke. Smoke that is split by a white, spherical object.

Which sails clean over Ous' head. Crik is treated to the sight of a bow, used up until recently to play the fiddle, likewise vanish into a puff of smoke before him. The snowball that follows is heading straight for his beak. The one aimed at Mikilos splats on the ground in front of him, rolling to a stop at his foot. Somewhere in the background, a high-pitched cackle is heard.

Blinking as a ballistic instrument, followed by a snowball careens towards Ous' brainpan, the ranger drops into a ready stance. a hand dropping to his axe as he speaks softly to the dog next to him. "Dog. Ken."

Dog, his hackles up dives forward into the bushes, snarling and barking as it seeks their supposed attacker.

Mikilos quirks a brow, nudging the errant snowball with his boot before peering towards it's source. "You know, if you want a snowball fight, it's typically polite to ask first."

Out down the road from the soldier's defense wanders a small makari in bulky robes, taking in various sights with a curious look. One snowball goes whizzing past, and one of the small makari's brows raise.

"Well, someone's got the right idea of things." They muse. "Not nearly enough snow here after all. Is it magic, or did someone expressly smuggle snow in here for the purpose of tossing it around?"

Crik was too accustomed to being thrown things at that he doesn't flinch at the sight of bow flying at his face. He doesn't flinch - nor move. The snowball hits his beak and then after a moment of staring -

"CAW!" A rustle of feathers and the corvid slowly moves towards the path, beak open in bewilderment as he watches around himself. "It came from beyond. The men from the plane between ice and fire, whisked by a wind."

The sound of the dog crashing through the underbrush garners a surprised squeak, and there's a flash of movement away. Dog ends up at the base of a tree, barking and snarling. A dollop of snow falls down at Dog's head, a loose handful of snow not fully formed into a snowball.

Eztli finds another snowball flying her way, but it too sputters out of existence after landing too soon and rolling apart.

Crik and Ous both get snowballs that thwap into their chests, coming apart easily.

Bending down to pick up the remains of the snowball on the ground. Ous repacks it. Looking to the tree where Dog has someone treed, he brings his arm back and hurls the little ball of frozen inconvenience. Missing his mark by a wide margin, the Aesir shrugs slightly until he hears a slight *clang* and an angry "HEY!" from the other side of the tree. It doesn't take long to reveal that the voice belongs to one of the local guard captains, currently rubbing the wet side of his head and carrying a helmet that looks like it just got splattered with snow for some reason. Doing his best to look innocent, the Ranger looks back towards the tree and calls out to his companion. "Dog! Drie." the dog turns and pads back to Ous' side, somehow also striving to look innocent. Both of them failing terribly at it.

Mikilos snorts softly, tucking his book away and watching the antics unfold. "Never seen a squirrel quite like that before." he muses, eyeing the tree. "Usually throw nut shells, not snow balls."

"Oh come on now, if you're going to share the wonders of winter with us here, at least do it right! I know I'm small, but I'm not that hard of a target to hit." The small makari pouts down to a pile of snow. "Judging by the snow on your beak, it's not Crik's doing, I'd say." They consider, stifling a laugh at Ous. "Or you, you don't have more than the one. So, where are they?"

Being assaulted by snowballs was part of the parcel right now; Crik hops to the side with a flutter of his wings as he gets hit. But beyond few sounds coming from his throat, he keeps looking around with his beak open. "Maybe not a creature beyond. A trapped being. A lost child. A malfunctioning golem." Eyes eventually finding the mysterious tree.

And the captain around it. There's a quick ruffle of cloaks and the corvid slides behind Mikilos; his ragged cloaks attempting to somehow match the man's utterly unremarkable grey and black attire.

A sudden cacophony of cackling comes from the tree that Dog'd been barking up at, startling the Guard so much that he books it down the street, helmet in hand. From the tree, SIX small forms drop down, each landing and rolling, and standing up with a flourish.

Each of the black-skinned Goblin is armed to the teeth with... snowballs. Mikilos is missed, as six snowballs come his way, each somehow just missing. The Dog is also targeted, taking one in the chest.. the other five prove to be.. illusionary.

The cackling from above continues non-stop, and the six forms move, running past Mikilos. Crik finds himself the proud owner of two, freshly packed snowballs, shoved into his hands. "Use them well.", Acedia says with a snort.

Blinking as all hell breaks loose, Ous reaches down and places a hand on Dog's head as the animal gets his with a snowball. Hackles rising and teeth bared, the Ranger speaks softly to the animal. "Nae Dog. Aye Dinnae think they're meanin tae be harmin ye. Aye think it's just a Goblin bein all Gobbylinny."

This doesn;t seem to do much for Dog's mood for a moment though as the large animal glares at the myriad Goblin clones bolting about the place, though he doesn't move from his spot at Ous' side.

Mikilos's eyes glow blue as the six goblins scamper about (Perminant Arcane Sight), flinching slightly as snowballs, both real and illusionary, head his direction. Frowning mildly, the wizard glances around before heading towards a nearby park bench, setting his haversack atop and rummaging around inside.

"Well, I highly doubt some gobber had sextuplets who they trained in synchronized tree climbing." The small makari huffs once. "Hey, you there! It's all well and good to be having snowball fights, but leave the animals out of it if they don't know what's going on!" She shouts over, taking a few steps over to the others.

Snowballs! Crik's beak open, and he briefly has the urge to smash his head into it. Then his black eyes look around, actually pausing to consider what just happened. Goblins. Illusions. Snowballs that don't exist. He knows exactly what to do.

Half stepping, half hopping over towards Eztli, the corvid shoves the snowball in her hands. "Here, hold this." Then instantly twisting around, he flings the second snowball at Mikilos. "Here, catch!" And off he hops off, with his beak held wide open.

Acedia is not forthcoming with a reply to Eztli, aside from a toothy grin as she moves along. She moves to stand beside Mikilos then as he rummages through his haversack. "Whatcha upto, Mister Archmagus?", she wonders in a singsong voice. A little movement, and a snowball rolls onto Mikilos' haversack, before the six Goblins are on the move once more.

"I don't mean any harm, mister!", the six forms say to Ous, keeping well out of dog-biting range. A snowball is lobbed at Ous then, but in a lazy arc. "Catch!" Eztli too is offered a snowball in a similar fashion.

Catching the snowball quietly, Ous chuckles softly. The surprise from earlier melting like the wayward snowballs, the big Aesir begins to relax once more as he holds the snowball for dog to see. "See? Aye tol' ye. they're jes' bein' Gobbylinny. They'll nae hurt ye." Watching 6 Acedias dance through the square, Ous tosses the snowball aside and reaches into his shirt. removing a tobacco pouch, he begins to roll a cigarette as he witnesses the mayhem.

Mikilos pulls from his haversack, in no particular order, a small blanket, a rune covered stone plate, a kettle, small mugs, a waterskin, several small jars of powder, and a couple small mesh balls on chains.

Setting the blanket across the bench, the wizard fills the kettle and sets it on the runeplate, which heats up. "I" he says, "am making some tea. You're welcome to have some when you're ready to sit down. I've chai, cherry vanilla, and mint willowbark."

The small makari reaches out for the snowball flying towards them, but suddenly Eztli stretches backwards. There's a disappointed sounding sigh as they're left with one snowball in hand and another on the ground. "Alright, just don't take too long, or I'm tossing it myself." They huff to the egalrin, doing their best to shuffle the snow back together with their feet. "Good idea, lure her into a false sense of security, then, gotcha! That gobber's looking like they went swimming in a snow drift." They laugh.

The snowball tossed aside by the ranger is caught in the air as Crik holds it up. Quietly, he sizes it up - and then flings it back towards Eztli. "Catch-!" Which, due to spectacular one eyed aim and the presence of dogs no doubt, only sends it whirling towards Mikilos and the fanciful tea set.

"... the... uh," Crik looks towards Ous - and then turns on his heels, hopping off further into the park before getting zapped. Or worse, yelled at.

The Goblin grins at Mikilos. "Oh, I am good, had three mugs of kafe already today. Warm and energetic, ready to take on the world and make it mine. Not all at once, but... eventually." The six... a snowball sails through one of the images, and it pops out of existence with the sound of broken glass... the five images all laugh, and disappear into the brush once more. The cackling from the tree fades into silence.

Then another snowball comes at Eztli. This one at speed and with purpose, to splat against the short Sith-makari, coming apart at waist-height on her.

Mikilos frowns after Crick, brushing the snowball remains off the blanket. He sighs, "I recall some proposal to regulate stimulants like kafe. It seemed a silly idea at the time, but maybe I should have listened."

Eztli jumps a bit as she's hit squarely with a snowball, but the small makari seems in no particular rush to brush away all the snow. "There, that's a lot better! And, they're gone." They huff. "Honestly, I think that man is flightier than some of the small birds in this garden."

"Listen, I know you're an archmage and all that, but do you really want to piss off the entire student body of the arcanist's society banning something like that?"

The Goblin returns. "Whatyouwanttobankafe!?" The little woman frowns and stomps one of her booted feet upon the grass. "Are you try8ing to upset everyone and tank half the businesses here in Alexandria? Cause that's how you upset everyone and tank half the businesses here in Alexandria."

Her eyes narrow. "Might do better to summon a Duke of Hell." Acedia snorts and chuckles. "It'd go over just as well."

Soft, lilting music plucked out on a lyre, accompanied by a quiet humming carries in the supernally pleasant air of the enchanted lower gardens, and in their wake a half-sil woman. Pale skin, messy dark hair, and an elaborate monochrome dress. Nessa seems in a world half her own as she plucks out the tune, eyes half closed. That is, until she comes upon the commotion of an impromptu snowball fight. She pauses her song, and giggles softly. "Everyone having fun?" she wonders.

Mikilos chuckles. "Would be interesting to try and enforce. Think half the Watch would take part in the black market, were kafe to become illegal. But, I didn't say illegal, I said regulated. Once you lose that ability to blink, you're cut off."

Tucking some leaves into a mesh ball, Mikilos starts to brew a mug for himself, nodding to Nessa. "Salutations. Would you care for a cup?"

"I never said you did, I just implied that it might be the case, which, like actually banning it, gets people riled up." The small makari laughs, winding back one arm, then the other, and slinging a pair of snowballs goblinwards after scooping up the remains beneath her. One hits nothing, or an illusion taking the space of nothing, but the other plasters Acedia's hair and face. "Gotcha!" Eztli cheers, turning and waving to the newcomer. "Wasn't expecting a snowball fight in the middle of the gardens here, but of course I'm having fun!"

Acedia and her four dopplegangers move over to Nessa than, the Goblin carefully scrutinizing the lyre from a short distance away. "That is a pleasing tune from a pleasing instrument.", she says with a smile. "And yes, I am enjoying myself thoroughly. The others being whapped by snowballs, perhaps not as much." She eyes the wizard a moment, "And those speaking of regulating or banning kafe, well, hmmmph. They might find someone protesting u under their window at all hours. Or maybe a caterwaul of cats, or an unkindness of ravens." Her tongue is stuck out at Mikilos, before she glances back to Nessa. Even as her hair is suddenly covered in snow, she offers up a snowball to the Half-Sil. Cackling, the Goblin shakes her head, bits of snow going everywhere, before she disappears into the brush.

Nessa blinks once as the gaggle of goblins arrives talking about various collectives of animals. Suddenly she's being offered things from multiple directions and the smiles and dismisses the lyre, it swirling away in a brief buff of cool grey mist. She takes the offered cup, and then the offered snowball with her other hand. "Thank you." she offers both. "So who brought the snow?" she wonders, taking a sip of the drink.

Mikilos considers a moment. "Usually I'd assume Dana, Giver of Fruits to be the source of weather, but the Gardens typically avoid shuch extremes. So at a guess, I'm willing to blame miss Acedia, the goblin running around with illusion clones."

"Hey, I still have a handful of illusions to get rid of!" The small makari huffs, but without anything to throw, the threats lie disappointingly empty. "Acedia there probably made or got the snow somewhere, not sure how she did it, but I'd like to know if there's a magic trick to it." She offers, wandering over to the bench and hopping on. "That music was really pretty, are you a musician or do you just like playing?"

Nessa turns the snowball over in her hand, "Usually, it's certainly snowing in the rest of the city." she agrees with Mikilos. "Oh I thought it was just quintuplets." she adds, in response to the cline comment. She turns her attention to Eztli, "Oh, I do like to play. But I'm a Mourner." she tells Eztli. "My patients enjoy the music." she adds with a sad smile.

Mikilos nods and introduces himself. "Archmage Mikilos Mithralla. Amoung other things I run the shop up the mountain road, under the giant sword. A pleasure to meet you, miss."

"I don't blame her, winter is a lot of fun! It's nice to have a place where people can get out of the cold, but that makes a surprise snowball fight here a lot more fun, which is what I think Acedia was thinking. I'll have to remember that." The small makari laughs, stretching out and leaning back against the bench. "Nah, just a bunch of illusions, it's confusing, but you'll see they all move the exact same way, if she shows back up."

"Oh, another mourner? Well, nice to meet you, my name is Eztli." She greets. "Another as in, I know a half mul'niessa who's also a mourner, maybe you know her?"

Nessa giggles again, "I was only teasing." she assures the Sith-Makar. "I might, I actually don't spend a great deal of time at the temple. I'm usually down at the soldier's defense or one of the other hospitals in the city." she explains. "But, I do know quite a few of the mourners." she adds then. "Are you a fan of music, then?" she wonders.

"Oh, well, it's hard to tell sometimes, I'd rather explain something someone genuinely doesn't know if that's the case." The small makari chuckles quietly. "I didn't know mourners worked a lot at the defense, but I don't see why they couldn't, either. Small half mul-niessa, name's Verna, she's really smart and nice if you've met her before."

"Me? I always liked music, it's hard not to!" Eztli grins. "Can't really play anything myself, but I've always liked it. Much better at dancing to it than actually playing it. How'd you just make your lyre vanish like that?"

Nessa nods again, "I know... Mourners are mostly associated with final rites after someone passes, but I spend a lot of my time with people who are close to their time." she explains. "People who are beyond the help of healing. I make them comfortable, until it's their time. Make sure they aren't lonely or afraid." she says.

"I've always liked music, too." she says then, more cheerily. "And it was a little bit of bardic magic. I have a very nice Lyre, but I don't usually travel with it so I just conjure one up."

"Well, far be it for me to pigeon hole someone, when they can do what they feel like." Eztli notes, smiling back to the half-elf. "I know that can't be easy, but that probably means a lot to them."

"A conjured Lyre? You must play it a lot if you're able to recreate it so effortlessly with conjuration. It's hard to keep those things perfectly in tune, after all." She muses, stretching and rubbing between her shoulderblades before leaving her seat. "How'd you end up learning to play? I don't know many people who know bardic magic and work as clerics, too."

"I joined the temple first. When I was a teenager." she tells Eztli then. "One of my patients, when I was an Acolyte. Or, well he didn't really teach me, he inspired me" she goes on. "He was a bard, when he was younger. He was too ill to sing anymore, so he asked me to sing by his bedside. So I did. I was terrible." she says then and laughs a bit. "But, he didn't care. It made him happy." she shrugs lightly. "Since then, I've spent more time practicing, and learning some bardic magic too."

"And that's why you like singing to patients still, then? I guess everyone starts somewhere. That's how it is with bards, isn't it? It's inspiration, right?" Eztli wonders, looking to Nessa and nodding. "Maybe you could give me lessons sometime? I haven't tried singing in a long time, kind of hard when I sound so low."

"It was nice to meet you by the way, but I should get going, and you too, Mikilos! I hope your tea break is pleasant. I don't think you mentioned your name, though." They note, offering a hand to the half-elf. "I think I need a long bath and a heavy massage, my back's been killing me, so I really shouldn't put that off longer."

"Agnes, but my friends call me Nessa." The Mourner says with a bright smile. "It was nice to meet you. I could try giving you a few lessons, I'm not sure how good a teacher I'll be, but it could be fun." she says. She looks between her two hands, and sets the somewhat melted snowball down so that she can offer a wave farewell.