A Meeting In The Wintry Woods

The wilderness outside Alexandria, afternoon

The cold is ever-present, for winter grips the world and spring is many weeks away. But even in winter there are those who brave the woods -- sometimes for food, sometimes for duty, or sometimes simply to meet friends. The wind kicks up snow here and there, but it's stopped falling -- for now. The trees are bare, and the forest floor is carpeted in white, broken here and there by paw print or boot.

Telamon looks strangely out of place, and yet... in this place and time, he seems more elven or even fey than normal. His hair caught back by his circlet, clad in a long sleeved dark blue tunic over black wool trousers tucked into his boots, a heavy fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders as the elegant half-sil patiently walks down a game path, pausing to put a hand on a large oak tree. A faint smile comes to his lips, and he gives it a little pat.

Munch trudges slowly along the trail, a large burlap blanket obscuring most of his details. If you squint, one might mistake him for a poor traveler with a large pack on his back. But a little bit of perception can make out wings under the material. Still, the golem is in no hurry, muttering quietly to himself as he makes his way down the trail from Mictlan.

A little distance away, in a small clearing a bit away from the game path, there's a disturbance, a bit away from the game path, an unfolding itself to reveal an armored figure, twin cloaks over the armor, sword at his hip and bow on his back. He bends his knees to take the force of the disorientation, and takes a moment to regain his bearings, blinking.

"Miss, did you?" A querulous old man's voice comes from his direction. "Next time you'll _become_ a tree!"

Another, younger make voice from that direction, light and with a Myrrish accent to it. "Nay, the magic will not place me in a tree, it will push me outside of it."

"You should be more careful!" the older man scolds. "The family may have come to its senses, but that just means you need to not end up at the top of a cliff!"

The younger man does not answer, merely sighs. "Did you intend to inform every being within an hour's ride of our presence, Kanian, it is in my mind that you have succeeded."

She had only arrived in the city but a week ago. A happenstance she had come upon. It was not her intitial desired destination. And yet, she had found the city to be a world of vast cultures and species, many of which she had never seen before. It was a lot to handle. A lot to process. However, she had decided to remain in the city for the oppurtunities that she was told it had to offer her.

But, there was only so much that the young Stormgarde could handle at one. She actually had begun to feel overwhelmed and despite the cold winter air retreated to something that made her feel more at home; the wildernes.

She had traded the easy meal and the warmth of one of the local Inns for a campfire and a skewered rabbit. Yes, it was the solitude of the forest that she needed and Kadlin was finally feeling a little more at home with her chosen "escape" from the city itself.

Wrapped in a modest fur lined cloak, she was kneeling by a fire, yet it was the sound of other approaching voices that had alerted her attention, her other hand going ot the small axe on her hip.

At the familiar voice -- well, voices -- Telamon's head comes up. Then a twinkle in his eyes, as he focuses on where the voices are coming from, and steps just -so-...

...so that he appears from a flicker not far from Seldan, his starry eyes glinting. "Indeed," he quips. "But thanks for calling out, Kanian. I was wondering where Sir Seldan was, and I was about to start asking friends if they'd seen him."

Glancing not too far away, where he sees the flicker of flame, he tilts his head. "Huh. Looks like we're not the only ones out and about. Want to check on them, just to make sure there's no trouble?"

Munch perks a little as voices sound from off the path ahead, but slumps in disappointment as it becomes clear they're not addressing him. Still, curious, the cloaked golem steps off the path and heads to the clearing, making no effort to conceal his arrival. The scent of a campfire in the area is noted, but the voices take priority. Until identified at least. "Oh, hey, I know you two. The fire isn't yours? Yeah, best check it out just in case. Were bandits in the area, but pretty sure they all re-evaluated their life choices recently."

She heard the voices and hey seemed friendly enough, but if there was one thing Kadlin had learned was that never assume. It was something that was certainly alarming and she reached stood beside the fire, facing the direction of the voices, her hand axe raised before her and eyes narrowed, trying to catch a glimpse of the voices source. She took a defensive stance and took it upon herself to call out.

"Identify yourself! I am not alone. State your itentions. " Ofcourse she was alone, but she did not want them to think that, atleast for now. Her free hand moved to brush a strand of her blond hair away from her face.'

Seldan, at first, nearly jumps out of his skin at the flicker beside him, but the voice at least somewhat cools the racing hear, and he lowers his hand. "Archmage, Her light upon your path. Forgive me, I had gone but briefly to Tashraan. It is - much warmer than here." He draws a slow, deep breath, a lungful of chill air, and lets it out slowly.

"Damn! Don't scare me like that!" yells the querulous old man, whose body is nowhere to be seen. "Popping in out of nowhere. Damn mages."

"Kanian, quit whining." Now there's another voice, this one female, younger and fairly deep. "You both should be used to this by now. Your mage friend is right, Seldan. Let's make sure there's no trouble. This is no weather to be caught out unprepared."

The last of that lungful of chill air is released, and the armored man lowers his eyes. "Of course." He clearly is not saying all that he wants to say. "IT is well for you that we are in the midst of the wilderness."

"Or what?" The querulous old man identified as "Kanian" has the verbal tone of one with his arms crossed."

Seldan does not answer, maintaining his silence and looking in the direction that Telamon indicated. He does spot Munch, and incline his head. "Even so," he agrees. "None save the most desperate would haunt these woods in this weather. Still, Reunion and Telamon have the right of it. Best to see to it that there is no trouble." He takes a long, last look around him, cataloguing every detail. "I would return here, and learn this place."

The voices in the distance sound relaxed, for the most part - certainly there is no real heat in any save the old man's, and his is a note of complaint. He looks over at the demand, and lets out another long, breath. "Perhaps it pleases the archmage to soothe the stranger?"

The noise seems out of place, a keening squeal that starts at a mid-range, and climbs higher, echoing through the woods. After it fades into nothingness, it is replaced by the sound of proper music, fast and high-pitched, a frantic cascade of notes that seem to pace the wind. This lasts for only few moments, before it, too, fades away.

The sound of drumming can be heard then, a steady beat in the background while the violin plays.

"axes flash, broadsword swing,

shining armour’s piercing ring

horses run with polished shield,

fight those b-st-rds till they yield

midnight mare and blood red roan,

fight to keep this land your own

sound the h-rn and call the cry,

how many of them can we make die!"

The song picks up in volume as the player approaches, a small form, cloaked in leather.

Telamon has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry, Sir Seldan, didn't mean to jump -that- close." He smirks at the talkative, mouthy sword, before nodding. "The woods sleep. Few of the fey denizens are going to be up and about. Which, I suppose, is a bit of a blessing. The dryads aren't malicious but they can be mischievous."

At the voice from the fire, he nods. "I'll do it. See who's singing, would you?" With that, Telamon approaches the fire, hands visible, stepping into the clearing and regarding Kadlin with a charming smile. "Good day to you, lady. I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, and my companion is Sir Seldan Padaryn. We mean no harm, and bring only peace and goodwill. May we approach your camp?"

Munch steps towards the light of the fire without hesitation, pulling off the blanket and stretching his wings a little. "I am Munch, the TerrorMaw, and you I don't recognize. Nice to meet you." The metal man peers towards music, buzzing quietly. "I know that tune... though think the words were different. Guess that happens with drinking songs."

"There is no need, Archmage." A small smile creeps across Seldan's features, and he turns away, leaving Telamon to reassure the stranger while he goes to find the source of the music in the words, gesturing that Munch should follow him. "It is an old friend."

He turns and strides several paces in the direction of the music, the wind lifting his cloak behind him. "Acedia, show yourself."

"Light preserve us. HER? Is she going to jump off another bridge?" The eye roll is almost audible in Tisa's tone. "Now, Tisa," a nasal, older female voice chides her. "You can be nice."

The song stops part way through a line, and the violin play a moment later.

"Coming!"

The sound of running can be heard, little feet tromping through the snow, heedless of the wind or forest boughs. The Goblin comes into sight then, running at Seldan at full speed, her cackle gleeful. Jumping hug in three... two... one...

She catches the paladin at the waist. "Jumping off a bridge? Oh no, you missed my encore! I got run through by a bloody Duke of Hell! I died, but I got better!"

That said to the sword, Reunion.

Once Kadlin is reassured the travelers are just that -- travelers -- Telamon returns to the small group. Recognizing Acedia, he offers the goblin a smile, raising his hand in greeting. Nodding to Munch as well politely, as he comments, "Being dead may be an eventual fate, but speaking from my own experience -- I think I'll pass for now."

Tel quirks a grin at Seldan, clearly amused by his ancestral blade's somewhat scandalized commentary. "Really, Reunion, not everyone is prim and proper. Some of us are guided by life's passions, after all."

Munch shrugs and follows Seldan towards the source of the music, humming along with the more familiar bits. Well humming, off key, and not quite on rythmn, but not bad for someone designed without musical consideration. There's a slight tension as a goblin comes running towards the group, but this isn't the same as when that usually happens. Buzzing softly, he nods to Telamon. "Majority of us, by my count. Though I'm only counting the people with arms and legs, not confidant in how a full poll would run."

Momentum and a man still trying to determine the exact direction of the voice combine to create an angle that Seldan doesn't expect, and the jump tips the armored man backwards into the snow, sending a gauntlet flying and Reunion protecting. "That's cold!"

"There's guided by life's passions, and there's plain stone cold insane," Tisa snaps back at Telamon. "She's the latter."

Meanwhile, Seldan, who seems a bit less cold but no less soaked, sprawls back in the snow, looking up. "Her light upon your path, Acedia. It is well to see you, but - let us see your opinion of the snow." Smartly and with a ghost of a smile, he twists himself, a quick move intended to roll her off of him and into the snow, putting him atop her. If he manages it, he'll attempt to pin her with the un-gauntleted hand, leaving the piece free in the slow a foot or two away.

"The Duke of Hell? I remember quite well," this time the voice is deep, firm, and male, full of authority. "A shame you, too fell to his blade."

"More of a shame she came back," Tisa grumbles. "TISA!" That is several voices in unison.

The Goblin laughs as Seldan topples, barely clinging to the man, lest her flight continued unabated.

"I am not insane.", Acedia protests, "Though it is said that creative people are a little insane, so I suppose that comes with playing the violin and singing." Tisa's comment gets a chortle from her, and she begins to struggle as Seldan pins her in the snow. "It's cold! And yes, I returned. Vardama, in her infinite wisdom, told me Tisa would be very lonely, so I decided to allow the call to pull me back."

"Her light on your path, Seldan." Another cackle as she attempts to kick at sensitive places, but she and Seldan both know those places are protected by plate. Squirming with all her might, she stretches her neck, biting at Seldan's on her wrist.

Telamon doesn't even try to hide his laughter as Acedia piles Seldan over and the two tussle for a bit on the snow. "I think it takes a certain madness to be an adventurer anyways. I mean, I could've been perfectly happy being a diplomat, sitting through boring meetings and listening to people lie to me." Telamon rolls his eyes. "Oh wait, no, I'd have probably quit in a month. At least now when someone hates me they're usually up front about it."

He lets Acedia and Seldan work out their interpersonal issues, continuing to Munch, "The 'Terrormaw'?" he inquires. "Did you pick that out yourself or did someone hang that title on you? I admit, it's somewhat interesting."

Munch buzzes. "Insanity is and exclusionary term used by those with no base upon which to prove their own sanity." Turning to Telamon, he hesitates, magicite eyes blinking with a soft click. "...huh. I don't remember for sure. Think was one of several nicknames that got tossed around and I liked the sound of it. I'm inclined to say was Ambassador Brindelgear, but doesn't really sound like something he'd say. Twitchy guy, but very polite."

A quiet pop, and the golem's faceplate cracks open, splitting along both the vertical and horizontal axis to reveal row upon row of razor adamantine fangs, glissening with a thin layer of acid. Like a nightmare cross between a lamprey and a buzzsaw.

Seldan right now is entirely ignoring the conversational byplay, even as the sword at his hip continues to have an internal conversation. He, meanwhile, sighs and abruptly lets go as Acedia's teeth find purchase in his wrist, drawing barely more than pinpricks of a glittery black substance against the teeth. "I might have known," he sighs, wincing and keeping the hand perfectly still, lest it get worse. "You might have asked me to cease." The smile is gone, but he remains straddling her, not moving at all until she does.

The Goblin gasps, only realizing after what has happened, pulling away almost immediately. "I'm deeply sorry Seldan! I don't know what came over... w... wait..." Her eyes narrow and she peers closely at the man's wound. "Se... Seldan? Why...why is it black?" She quickly flips over onto her back, looking up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. "Did... did you know?"

Telamon recoils a little from Munch, but it's less horror and more surprise. Then he's leaning back in with curiosity. "Goodness! I've not seen a war golem with such a configuration. That has to be intimidating for your foes." He inspects the fangs, careful not to touch. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

He glances over to see Acedia release Seldan, and he takes a breath. "Excuse me a moment, sir." Swiftly, he walks over to where the two were wrestling. "It's all right, miss Acedia. Strangeness pursues all of us, and sometimes it can look very strange indeed." A flick of his eyes to Seldan. "But it's really Sir Seldan's tale to tell."

Munch buzzes again, maw closing up but not resealing. "Nah, is nice to stretch now and then. Isn't any model quite like me, and have been heavily modified." Nodding, he drifts after to the pair on the ground, eyeing the dark pinpricks. "Huh. Not the result I would have guessed."

There are differences - glittery where the old was matte, and Seldan shows no sign of illness or discomfort. He rolls off of her, wincing, and promptly buries the bitten limb in the snow, packing snow around it. "Peace, Acedia. I am not ill," he tells her gently, watching her with quiet, open sympathy. "I have - known for a few moons. Forget not that the fight against the Dark is not without its price." He is now sitting in the snow. "I understand it not, but it is in my mind that I absorbed too much. But, it is not without its blessings. See?" He pulls the wrist out of the snow, and while the fair skin is reddened, and blackened snow clings to it and remains behind where it had been, he shows her teethmarks that are already healed, leaving behind only angry red marks. "Fear me not, Acedia. I am unaware of another."

The Goblin sniffles, rubbing at her nose with a leather-clad arm. "I know what it is, Lord Telamon.", she says softly to him. "I was there for its genesis." Ace gestures to her eyes with a hand. "What was originally white in my eyes has been stained by the magic of the slime plague. Sir Seldan..." She rolls forward and stands, moving to hug at the man more gently this time. "Was very ill with it when we first met. I soothed him as best I could, and he spent time in the Soldier's Defense, where I worked as a helper and nurse., I eventually caught it too."

"But I thought it gone. Is this... a continuation of the plague, a new form, or just remnants, like the sclera of my eyes?"

She catches sight of Munch's maw closing but not sealing. "Whoa... some teeth you got there!"

"Thankfully, I never bore witness to this horror. I was lucky in that respect." Telamon places a hand on Seldan's shoulder. "Still, scars are proof we have survived and prospered, and while some consider them foolishness... when your foes fall but you still stand, at least you're still around to complain about them."

He claps Acedia on the shoulder suddenly. "Come, let's go sit by the fire. I've a few victuals in my bag, and we can talk about other things. I've heard the Crimson Pen writers are on the march again, I'm afraid. I fear for whoever will be the next beneficiary of their literary... ah... fervor."

Munch peers for a moment and shrugs. "Huh. I thought all that stuff cleared up when Sali... Salein... when Endless Winter woke up and the Tower went away. Anyway, yeah, I was built to eat stuff, and my designers didn't believe in half measures."

"Salina," Seldan corrects automatically, looking up at the hand on his shoulder and pulling the half-pint goblin close. "Dark days indeed," he agrees, "and that was far from the last of it. Still, it is as the archmage says. I am yet here, and the price is not so very great a one, in the end." He flushes at the mention of the Crimson Pen, but releases Acedia and leans to reach for his gauntlet flexing his fingers. "Acedia, too, bears that price. But come, let us speak of happier things."

The gauntlet is full of snow, and he sighs quietly, emptying it out and tucking it under his arm. "I have a campfire bead, that shall burn even in this, and victuals would be most welcome."

He gets to his feet and sets about creating a campsite for the ersatz group, starts the fire, and pulls food from his own bag as well. Chilly, but good company, and an evening of laughter in the end. Who cares about the weather?