The Princess Armor
Chardev Summary (Svarshan): It was nice to get out ongrid again. Everyone had something to contribute, and I enjoyed the way that Angrid reacted to the khazad NPC I'd posed. Sandy was as fun as ever, and Mikilos brought his relatives on a tour, a theme he's been sticking with. It was also the first time Svar had met Const, who seemed to cotton onto Srassha's personality fairly quickly.
I enjoy playing the two--they're such opposites. As grumpy as he is, Svarshan needs the swift as a kind of foil. When there's just the one, I often feel as though I'm posing just half a PC.
RPP Note: If you were in this scene, you could add a summary here, too, in order to get credit for it. Or, include your summary in your +request. Either works. Full details on RPPs can be found on the RPP page. - Lah
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Temple District - Temple Plaza *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=- The air of worship, solemn contemplation and the weight of divinity in this area simply cannot be denied. In stark contrast to the bustle of the great market just to the south, all noise and rowdiness seems to immedialty cease upon entry to large area. In size, the Great Market does rival the Temple Square but the placement of the temple structures and the weighty air in the place lends to it a scale that is not easily quantified. The square itself is brilliantly paved with large white flagstones. In contrast to the colorful cacophony a short walk south, it is serene and nearly empty of vendors, save for a handful of respectfully quiet ones who offer fruits, flowers and other things that may be given up as offerings to some of the deities. The centerpiece of the square is a large fountain of white marble, filled with clear water. During the day, a jet of water continuously shoots high into the air, pattering back into the pool below like soothing rain. Special reflectors situated around the area cause the water to sparkle with fractured light. VIEWS: +view here/fountain -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 0s 2h Mikilos Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. 1m 34m Sandy The HIPpest elf ever. Practically a HIPpy. 31s 1d Quint A dark-haired, bearded young man with old eyes. 6m 57m -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Objects =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Sign -- NO BATHS IN THE FOUNTAIN -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Temple of Tarien <TN> Temple of Althea <TA> Temple of Kor <TK> Temple of Eluna <TE> Temple of Daeus <TD> Temple District <N> Commerce District <S> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's Variday, Aestry 30 20:12:22 1014. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and ebbing.
The sun sets and the evening stars begin to appear in a blue and cloudless sky. There's a cool breeze from the west.
"Just what the hell are you doing, anyways?" asks Sandy of Svarshan with obvious annoyance. She has her hands planted on her hips and she's watching the Sith with his mount. "Hasn't she already had enough to eat today? You're going to make her bloody fat at this rate."
Indeed, Srassha is no doubt pleading for more food, with the 'never been fed ever' look. And is in fact being fed.
Quint has disconnected.
Angrid has arrived.
<Meet> Angrid joins Sandy.
"Just what the hell are you doing, anyways?" asks Sandy of Svarshan with obvious annoyance. She has her hands planted on her hips and she's watching the Sith with his mount. "Hasn't she already had enough to eat today? You're going to make her bloody fat at this rate."
Indeed, Srassha is no doubt pleading for more food, with the 'never been fed ever' look. And is in fact being fed.
"...why do you care what I am doing?" he mutters beneath his breath. He reaches up to scratch the swift's neck. She arches, tossing her head in a way that says: Princes. Beautiful Princess. His other hand holds a cutting block of sorts. A long, flat piece of wood, bits of raw meat are draped over it. They wobble, jiggle as he scratches Srassha's chin. Srassha stands tall, just over 10'. A swiftclaw from Am'shere's jungles, she bears the typical coloring, with flecks here and there of divine gold. And, a fact she seems very proud of: is decked out in her shiny, shiny armor.
Mikilos hasn't eaten in a week, but that's more a magicy-wizard thing than any lack of food. Instead, the elf has followers. Well, people following him, which technically means they're followers. The young half-elf Amy trails along not listening, having been thru this tour before. The others are a tall blonde elf who looks quite a bit like Mikilos, and an iron clad dwarf maiden; the later pair not listening much either, too busy making puppy eyes at each other.
Angrid exits the temple of Daeus, giving a wave to the priests as he reslings his axe. He's wearing his armor as well, clanking pointedly as he strides out with that inimitable pace that dwarves do; slow but inexorable, like glaciers moving. Stopping outside, he fishes out his pipe, starting to pack it as he catches sight of the large riding lizard and its master, a faint grin curling one side of his beard.
"Because you're doing it right here, Svarshan. So publically," says Sandy with a mocking tinge to her voice. And then Mikilos is arriving. Angrid too, actually. Both of them are more noticable than your common, run of the mill petitioners attending the churches in theri own way. "Huh," she says, before her eyes swing back to Svarshan again.
A few other knights wander from the temple regions, mounts in tow. Most of these are the capable horse, though a khazad stomps alongside one with a more exotic rockbeast, the tamed version of the landshark. It follows placidly, waddling back and forth in its gait like a great, big dog...just with sharper fangs. A few of them wave to Arngrid before walking on towards the mounted practice fields.
Announcements that day had declared a match between some of the Daeusites and the Angorites.
The Angorites weren't bothering with horses.
Across the way, Svarshan grasps a chunk of the slimy meat, and dangles it in front of the Princess. Her head snaps to attention immediately, and she follows it...this way. ...that. ...and back again.
"Ssssa. And this is. A problem?" he asks, as he dangles the bloody meat. He nods to Mikilos as the sildanyari does his tour, and at this brief inattention--the swift lunges forward, snapping it from his fingers.
And downs it, with loud, sloppy, drooly, gulping sounds. Princess.
Angrid watches the rockbeast plod past. "Ach, now I haven't seen one of those since I was a lad with no beard to speak of," he says fondly. Lighting up his pipe, he unslings his axe and raises it to the khazad rider in salute. "The earth abides!" he rumbles cheerfully.
Mikilos does stand out a bit from most crowds, but a 10' lizard stands out moreso. smiling, the elf leads his small procession closer, nodding greetings to each and making brief intorductions. "Miss Sandy, Sunblade Svarshan, Lady Srassha, I believe you've all met Amy. Allow me to introduce her father, my cousin Thalin, and his fiance, Ilga Stouthammer."
Oh, look. A red headed dwarf! Sandy eyes the arriving dwarf for a moment and says, "Get used to it. You'll be seeing plenty more of them before too long." She then rubs the back of her neck, turns back towards Svarshan, eyes him, and then lets out a sigh. Just a sigh. She swats at something and mutters 'bloody moths' after a moment and then turns her eyes on Mikilos. "Uh..huh," she tells him. "IS this where I insult all of them?"
"Crafter's Mark and Beard!" the other calls back cheerfully. He salutes his own axe in return. "We're gonna give those giants a run for it. HAH!"
"Hear hear!" And at that? A loud cheer goes up among the mounted Daeusites as their hoses clip-clop across the plaza. "You tell'em how we kicked the giants' asses next time, Mik!" the khazad yells back before the group lumbers out of site. The rockbeast lumbers on its way--slower, but inevitable in its advance. It moves with its constant, steady waddle and heavy body, its rock-like physique a match for the khazadi clan it had hailed from.
At her accomplishment, Srassha struts a pace. See how fast I am? that seems to say. See how Quick? See how Magnificant? She poses there in the sunlight, so the rays catch her pretty, pretty armor and the bits of silver on her bosal.
Svarshan scowls up at her a while. And then sighs, the corner of his muzzle curving upwards. "Saaa. One hassss. Not. ...watch the teeth," he tells them then, with a nod towards the posing Princess. And, pose she does.
So pretty, she seems to say. So GORGEOUS. So CLEVER.
And he nods to Arngrid, too. "I know you. ...you...came to the Temple. Recently. But the SSunguards did not ssay much?"
Angrid reverses his axe, reslinging it as he turns to look at Svarshan. "Probably because I was getting patched up from a nasty little job involving a giant crab and a gnoll magician." He puffs on his pipe contentedly. "I see life has treated you and your companion well, Sir Knight."
Mikilos grins, and nods to Sandy. "Most likely. But if you'd care to limit yourself to just a greetng, that's fine too." He blinks, glancing towards Angrid. "Giant crab? Dont believe I've heard that tale." His follows stand back a bit, content with their own amusements, and keeping well back from the snapping teeth. Not Srassha, Sandy.
Svarshan pauses at the khazad's words, and then glances downwards. And... "No," he says, simply. And then thinks on it a while after that, and says, "Yes," instead.
Good with words he is not.
Indeed, of the two of them, Srassha seems more expressive. She blinks widely at the Sildanyari and turns just-this-way. The sun's rays strike the silver on her bosal perfectly. It glints, glitters finely to where one might indeed imagine small and tiny stars spilling off from it. So gorgeous.
"...how did the crabs taste?" the sith'makar asks after a time, after he's had time to put the words together properly in his head. And, beyond, the hoofbeats continue to clip and clop, eventually to fade towards the temple of Angoron.
Angrid claps his hand to his brow dramatically. "Ach! We only fished out one of its claws, and we gave that one to the fisherman so he could prove to the village it was dead. I think they nailed it to the wall of the town hall." He rubs his hands together. "But it was huge, lad. As big as three of her," he points at Srassha, "put together, side by side!"
Mikilos frowns mildly, uncertain. "Just the claw, or the whole crab?" He reaches over to give Srassha a scratch, well aware the pretty princess deserves the attention.
"Well, I don't *care* to limit myself, but I will. Just for you, Mikilos." There is sarcasm in her tone, "In which case I'll only be mildly insulting." And then Svasrshan is eyed again and then she says, "How do the... you know what," she says after a moment, "I'm not going to ask why you're eating crabs. NEver liked them, myself." She sniffs.
At that? Srassha's head comes up. OFFENDED, that says, and she stands up higher. OFFENDED. She is the mightiest, the grandest, the...oh.
Someone is scratching her. Someone is...
She settles. Clearly. Mikilos is the only one here who appreciates her worth.
Clearly.
"Ah," Svarshan says, and the side of the muzzle /away/ from Srassha curves into a smile. "You might try eating them," he continues in that same thoughtful tone. "Asss large as..." and he lets his gaze wander up towards the primping Princess. Who then proceeds to pretend she'd never heard of him in her life.
He clears his throat again. "Sss. Svarshan Kotharrventin, of Am'ssshere and the Father'sss service," he says after a time, and looks over towards the khazad as he does. He moves slowly, as one might expect...a group of rocks to settle. And come to rest atop a layer of moss. "And thissss...is the Demon Sildanyari." And another, longer pause. "By reputation," he suggests, wryly.
"It was HUGE!" Angrid rumbles around his pipe, smoke snorting from his nostrils as he spreads his arms wide. "It picked up our archer. It picked up -me- at one point! I'm just sorry it sank to the bottom of the lake; we'd have needed barrels of butter to cook it properly though." He removes his pipe from his mouth, placing a hand over his chestplate. "Angrid Stonehelm of the Dun Morden, at ye service."
"...no kidding," says Sandy at Angrid's tail, with a tone of doubt clearly creeping into her voice. Then she says to Mikilos' 'family', with dryness, "Welcome to Alexandria." She does not quite add 'Land of Braggarts and Exageraters', but she might as well have from the tone she's using all together.
Mikilos nods thoughtfully. "Mikilos Mithralla, Builder Arcane. A lake you say? Intresting, usually there's not enough food for something so big. Hrmm. Ah well." Shrugging, he glances towards the Demon Elf. "So what are you up to this day, beyond berateing Svar Sunblade?"
Azog arrives from the north.
Azog has arrived.
Angrid hmphs. "Lass, if I wanted to brag, I'd say I killed the beast singlehandedly. But sad to say, 'twas a giantborn woman with arms like tree trunks that dealt it the most hurt. We were on a boat, and I'm not ashamed to say that's no place for a proper dwarf." He looks back at Mikilos. "Oh aye. That's probably what the gnoll magician was doing there. Probably his pet, the mangy cur."
"...one hasss...known khazad. Steady," is the sith's word he chooses, after a while. The sentence comes slowly, each word poured over, each one chosen with care...and also, a sense of struggling. Of trying to put them together, and never quite...
Right.
As though to distract himself, Svarshan reaches down to grasp one of the chunks from the cutting board. The response is instant--the Princess's head snaps around, her eyes focusing, focusing...
...and then just as quickly, she's chomping noisily on the tasty, tasty thing, without a mind for decorum in the world.
That comes later.
"The Guild?" he asks after a while. "Contract?"
The group of them stand amidst the courtyard, talking. Mikilos has a number of people with him, having recently been giving a tour. And, off to the distance, the faint but rising sound of battle taking place at the Angorite temple. Earlier that day, fliers had gone up--a competition between the mounted Daeusites and the giantblood of Angoron. Apparently. It is happening now.
Azog exits the Temple of Eluna with a perplexed expression. He heads to where his horse is hitched, pulls himself up into the saddle, and rides off in the direction of the Temple of Daeus. He dismounts there and heads inside, walking in with a distracted air and noting things going on only just before running over Sandy. Luckily, he stops just in time. Azog's not hugely observant at the best of times, and he's distracted now, it seems, or at least preoccupied. "Oh, hey." Yes, he's also a master of wit. He offers a wave to the others as well. "Hello, all of you." He looks around. "Something going on?"
"Oh," says Sandy, Ello there, Azog. Cleared any more gardens lately?" she saks, leaning her bustle-clad back against a wall. She keeps an eye on Angrid, Mikilos and Svarsha (and the jungle princess, of course) but she's clearly in a bad mood from the scowl that's set on her face. And it only appears to be getting more intense, that scowl.
"Aye, lad. Guild contracts pay just as well as anyone else. And they're straightforward, no mucking around in the tailings. Go here, find this, kill that." Angrid puts his pipe back in his mouth, cocking one ear at the sounds of a ruckus. "Aye, looks like the Angorites forgot that the followers of the Truemetal know how to fight too. Ah well, they'll learn someday."
Mikilos waves to Azog. "Nothing specific, just talking a moment in a brief tour, which I'd best get back to." He motions to his companions. "Amy I think you've met. And this is her father, Thalin, and Ilga Stouthammer, his fiance. This is Azog, another member of the local Guild. Anyway,we'd best be off if we want to make it back to the towers for dinner. Fare well!"
Mikilos has disconnected.
Svarshan follows the cock of the ear, and a smile makes its way, slowly, steadly, to his features. He listens a while, as the roar continues, rises, falls--and then a loud, angry thud of flesh follows, followed by the sound of breaking stone.
He takes a breath.
Lets it go.
And nods to the sildanyari as he makes his exit, before commenting. "It isss...good. I worked there...a while. To know Alexandria. Hello there, warrior. Have...the two of you. Met?" he asks. And beside, Srassha. Realizes she is no longer being scritched. Petted. Or adored. ...she eyes Sandy.
Azog waves in what he understands is the Alexandrian manner, ie normally rather than in some brutish Yrch way, and nods his head. "Greetings," he tells the family as they ... depart. He shakes his head to Sandy about gardens. "No, I do not normally work on gardens. But if yours needs tending, please let me know." Apparently he makes exceptions for tending Sandy's garden. He peers at Svarshan, then at the competition. "If the followers of Garganos Benemoth have forgotten how to put forth their best efforts, then they deserve to fail. They will work harder to redeem their honor."
Sandy, for her part, eyes Svarwshan. She then wads something up she just plucked from one of her pouches. She then throws the handkerchief at him. It bounces off the side of his head and hits the ground. In other words, that handkerchief is wrapped around something, actually, even as she nods towards Azog, of course. "I'm sure. Ha. Haha." She gives Svarshan a dirty glare, as if holding him responsible for something or other. Than back to Azog, "Think it'll be okay for now, but if it ever needs wrestled again, I will let you know."
Angrid grins at the Yrch. See, now, that's the right idea. "Well, I'd say some of 'em are learning the hard way." He slaps Svarshan on the back, "Listen, I promised my cousin Finn I'd meet him for lunch. I'll see ye around, Svarshan." With that, the dwarf ambles on his merry way. Whistling, even.
Angrid has disconnected.
Svarshan looks towards the temple of Angoron across the way, where the competition is taking place. And he pauses a while after that, the almost-smile staying in place. "Sa," he says. And then he's hit in the head. He glances downwards at it, and even as he does--that brief inattention--the swiftclaw lunges forward, and snags the last piece of her meal from the tray. He eyes her a moment, irritation evident in his shoulders. It only worsens as he glances down at the object...
...and nods. "Yes," he says, looking at the one who threw it. And then nods to the khazad as he makes his way off. He crumples the paper, and tucks it into his pouch.
Constantin has arrived.
<Meet> Constantin joins Sandy.
Svarshan looks towards the temple of Angoron across the way, where the competition is taking place. And he pauses a while after that, the almost-smile staying in place. "Sa," he says. And then he's hit in the head. He glances downwards at it, and even as he does--that brief inattention--the swiftclaw lunges forward, and snags the last piece of her meal from the tray. He eyes her a moment, irritation evident in his shoulders. It only worsens as he glances down at the object...
...and nods. "Yes," he says, looking at the one who threw it. And then nods to the khazad as he makes his way off. He crumples the paper, and tucks it into his pouch. He, Srassha, Sandy, and Azog stand amid the courtyard. Srassha is chewing the last of her meal, while alternately posing from time to time in her very, very, pretty armor. Verypretty. (re)
Azog nods gravely about taking care of Sandy's garden. "Very well." He bids the dwarf farewell as he departs, then peers at the Sith-Makar with a puzzled look. "Swiftclaws are not like horses at all," he remarks observantly. "Except in some things. They prefer apples, but they will browse if you let them."
"Huh?" says Sandy to Svarshan with this puzzled look at his aquiescence. She scrunches her face up, then shrugs, "Whatever," she tells him. Still leaning against the fence of the courtyard, she turns her eyes back onto the temple square itself, adding to Azog, "Thanks."
Earlier that day, fliers had been posted: a competition between the mounted Daeusites, and the giantblooded of Angoron. The Angorites did not bring their horses. The two were to meet in Kor's battlegrounds for sacred competition...and as all such things must end, for sacred boasting, and tale-telling afterwards.
And from the direction of Kor's temple, the sacred sound of metal-hitting-metal is heard, too.
In the courtyard and across the way, Svarshan relaxes at Azog's nod. And he glances up at Srassha, then, and opens his mouth... and can find not a word. Apples. He closes his muzzle again, and quietly chokes over what words he might say.
Srassha, for her part, noisomely slurps the rest of the blood from her muzzle. It leaves a smear behind. Like lipstick. Princess lipstick.
Azog watches the Swiftclaw thoughtfully, casually wary as with things he feels are wilder than he's normally used to. Not that domestication is a virtue, but some things are more domesticated than others. And swiftclaws are not very domesticated in his experience. He grunts at Sandy's offer of thanks, bowing his head respectfully, turning to peer at Svarshan as he searches for words. Well, the two cultures are so far apart .... in some ways. "I think we all have much to learn from one another. But when we know ... then what? Life will be strange."
Constantin strides into the square, a bounce in his step, a cocky grin on his face. He's in city clothes, so he's got a nice jacket and trouser combination going. He saunters along, slowing when he sees the swiftclaw: "Fabulous!"
"Yeah, well. Life is infinitely stranger than I thought it was, I can tell you that for sure. There was a time when I didn't... couldn't have dreamed of the way my life was going to go. But it did, and that's all there is to it. The possibilities of life are endless. Well. Until you get to the end, anyways. And I'm told there's a lot more possibilites of unlife. Most of which aren't pleasent, but there you have it. Let's take Svar, for example. His after life is likely to consist of a jungle, lots of female Sith, and a Jungle Princess."
Srassha straightens at the new arrival. She turns a bit this way and that, so the sun catches her just-so, so the light glitters against the silver along her mecate. The 'lipstick' gives her an odd look, like a child had started to dress her in makeup and ribbons, and then tired of the job. Beside her, Svarshan reaches up to scratch at her muzzle, a half-smile across his features.
"Yes," he tells Sandy as he scratches, perhaps to confuse her further, and then nods to Azog. "Ssome," he says, and pauses. "But better sstrange." And he reaches up and hooks a claw just above the bosal's knot. "The /beer/ is better," he clarifies. And then lifts his chin to the well-dressed swordsman. And his eyes narrow thoughtfully, briefly.
"Emir?" he asks, in confusion. Except, no: this version makes more /sense/. ...
And he has yet to break out into singing refrain.
Emir has arrived.
<Meet> Emir joins Sandy.
Constantin smiles broadly towards Ssrasha. "You /are/ a pretty swiftclaw, aren't you. I'm sure you're well loved."
Azog shrugs to Svarshan about having better beer, then nods at what Sandy says about life being strange. This is so," he agrees. Azog offers a farewell to Sandy and Svarshan. "I did not come to watch the battle," he says of the competition, "but to ask the seers at the Temple of the White Disc," he uses the Yrch term for Eluna, whose temple is closeby, "what they thought of speaking with spirits. I was not aware that sometimes they -can- be heard, for those who have the way of listening. I must go and think on this for a while. Fare well." Alas, he only has a chance to nod briefly to the other fellow before he climbs on his horse and rides off.
Azog has disconnected.
Svarshan watches the smiling one a while, but Srassha...the swiftclaw lifts her head as she gazes upon Constantin. Intelligent, she seems to say. The only intelligent one in the world. And, blessed, humble follower.
She lowers her head so it might be scritched appropriately.
Princess.
And the movement has the sith rubbing at his jaw, and pinching the top of it with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Constantin reaches out to pat the muzzle, grinning. He looks over towards Svarshan, "And who is your follower, Princess?" Blinkblink. He's practically dimpling with amusement. Its light, though, his tone anything but mean-spirited.
Kathryn has arrived.
<Meet> Kathryn joins Sandy.
"Never seen someone understand Srassha so quickly!" Sandy says in the most innocent of expressions as Constantin speaks to Srassha. Then she reaches into her pouch, produces a little colored hard candy and throws it directly at Svarhhan's head. Because of the heat, though, it just hits his scales and then sticks to him.
"Mrmmmngle," Svarshan gets out. And, "Rrrnunggle," he says. Svarshan glances up at the swift...who poses. Prettily. And he screws his eyes shut again. And there's candy stuck to his nose, too, but such is his day that he's just not going to notice.
And of course, the swiftclaw reaches out and pat-pat-pats Constantin on the head in grandiose, noble fashion before--her rider grasps the mecate, and, "It issss time for the Princess to--"
Yank, yank. No!
"--have her pretty armor polished," he amends that, and her eyes brighten as twin, generous stars. Svarshan nods to them both before leaing her away, a spring to her step and bounce to a walk that's all but ridiculous on such a tall reptile.
But. She is going to look GORGEOUS.
More gorgeous.
She is convinced.
Svarshan goes OOC.