Comparing Bloodlines

Log Info

• Title: Comparing Bloodlines
• Emitter: Murder
• Characters: Murder, Skielstregar
• Place: Wilderness
• Time: March 16th, 2023
• Summary: Skielstregar visits Murder's camp in the woods while on patrol. She's busy repairing some furs form the winter and she gifts him some gloves as well as a good luck charm. Their discussion shifts to that of how they do their respective magics, Murder relaying that Angoron showed them the way, and demonstrating by setting something on fire, to which Skiel puts out with an ice breath blast. They eventually get to Skiel's methods, which are... less than savoury. Undeath and all that. Methods of keeping sanity are elaborated upon before Skiel returns to his post of patrolling the woods.

With the day disappearing into golden echoes behind the treeline, the light breeze gathers a little strength. The snow has slowly ebbed away, with grass showing in many places, though the pathways are slick with mud. In the encroaching darkness, one cannot see the promises of green showing on the deciduous trees.

A familiar light, to some who travel the trails and pathways at night, is seen to the left of the travelways. The firepit is encircled by a small camp: a leanto, several small walls of sticks to reflect campfire heat, a few crates storing dry goods, and a number of frames for drying meat or stretching animal hides. And, of course, currently populated by the camp's builder, Murder. Dressed in only her leathers, she works on repairing her collection of furs. Some are clothing, some are big enough to sleep on, and one, newer, looks like a giant cloak.

Her voice can be heard, as she sings a rather bawdy song, the Goblin rather enjoying the saucy words, which she pronounces with great enthusiasm. If any of the forest denizens have complaint, none seem willing to lodge them.

An echoing sound of hollow hooves comes from the forest line, only to stop before break. There's a clank of metallic noise, then clunking of footfalls as they approach the came. "Erm, Murder, you are sssinging many wordsss," a familiar, rumbling voice calls out, him stepping to the edge of the camp. "What doess huge tracksss of land have to do with anything honey? Isss there many plantsss for the beesss?"

Her ears seem to perk up slightly at the metallic clanking, and the song stops in time for her to hear his questions. She turns around, the voice very familiar, and the Gobbo laughs. "Skielstregar!" Her hand waves and gestures, "Come on in! And uh if I explained the euphemisms, you just might catch fire." Her giggle is full of mischief. "Come and sit sit sit. How is your patrol this eve?"

Skiel pauses, a half step towards the camp. "Ah. Euphemismssss. Thisss one hasss learned sssome of thossse. They choose their words around 'wood'," he notes, face frosting a bit before shaking his head and making his way in. "Peassse on your nessst. It goesss well. Quiet, thisss night."

His halberd is released, and Malefic stands there on its own, as usual. The makari finds a spot to sit, him stretching out before laying onto his back. "Yoursself? Fixing thingssss?"

"Did you wish for something comfortable to lay on?", the Gobbo wonders, going to pull out a blanket that seems gigantic compared to her. She pauses, and offers a bow. "Peace on your nest. And that is good, a quiet night... aside from my singing... is a good thing when on patrol."

Murder nods, "Yeah, winter is hard on my furs... maybe that's a me problem. But I fix what I can, reuse it, cut it smaller, and so on. Uh. Made something for you, too. I have had a lot of rabbit pelts this winter."

She steps over to one of the crates, prying off the lid, and crawling inside, disappearing from view.

Skiel shakes his head, holding out a hand. "Thisss one doessn't need it. Ssscalesss tough, laying down iss enough. But that isss good you are having a quiet night."

She... made something? The makari perks up, laying on his side with an elbow into the ground. "... you needn't have made sssomething for thisss one," he rumbles, peering over at the woman as she vanishes into the box.

There's a giggle from the box. "What is it with using wood, anyways. Is it meant to represent hardness? That's the only thing I can think." Her face appears then. "I have been spoiled and I like something comfy to sleep on. I'd sleep on you if I wouldn't freeze solid and stick to you. Harkashan is your opposite, he's nice and warm, like he's got a fire burning inside. Say, do you get less cold during the summer?"

She disappears once more, but shortly, "Aha! Found them!" Presently she's standing over him, and offers rabbit fur and leather gloves. "I know you don't get cold. But, you are cold, yes? So, these have room for your claws, and should allow you to touch people without them sticking to you."

From her clenched fist, she offers up a small skull that has a length of thin leather. The skull has small, red characters written all over. "A good luck charm."

Skiel finally picks himself up to a sit. "Thisss one thinksss it isss because it standsss up straight. They really do not know, sssoftskin humor isss sstrange." His tail sways against the ground. "Sssa. Thisss one knowss what isss like to ressst with warm kin. Thisss one'sss Chiuaa isss redscale, Vaera. She isss very warm. And yesss, thisss one isss lesss cold. Lesss sticking."

He blinks at the offering. "... o-oh!" he grins, reaching out to take the gloves. Carefully, he slips them on, the extra room on the fingers fitting the talons nicely. He also takes the skull, him looking at it, trying to decipher the runes. His tail swings more. "... mmmm. Ssaa. Thessse are good. Thank you, Murder, for the kind and thoughtful giftssss. Thisss one will take care to not break them. What are the runesss here?"

"I really appreciate the sparing we've done.", she says softly. "And I thought something to show my appreciation was in order. I figured the gloves were good, let you have a bit more interaction with us softskins. Mostly I mean me." She laughs at that. "But I made them well, I think."

The skull? She seems skittish about informing on the runes. "It's Goblin-talk, and basically it says you are protected by ancient Goblin spirits, who'll come in the night to take your enemies should they bother you." Murder carefully avoids eye contact. "I can fix the gloves, if they tear."

Her eyes light up. "Oh! Remember that I asked you about the way you do your magics?"

Skielstregar rumbles warmly, him reaching out with the gloved hand to pat the gobbo atop the head. "They are well." He tilts his head at her. "Be not ashamed of ancestral spiritsss. That isss kind of you to beseech them to protect thisss one."

He nods. "Yesss. Thisss one remembersss. We can discusss that, if you wisssh?"

"I remember Vaera. She has the wooden leg! Amazing to see her run on it. I'm not ashamed of my ancestors. I am just a little... shy, because it's a really personal gift."

She nods then, "I would like that. I think I have mentioned it before, speaking to Angoron and learning how to do things. I was told by my Da to visit his master. Both are Oruch. I did a spirit journey, which was amazing and scary at the same time. And I can't remember what He said, but afterwards, I was able to do things. Some are spells, which are understandable, I think, by you? But other things... like. I can think it, and a thing or person will catch fire."

Skielstregar rumbles warmly. "It isss a metal leg now. She movesss like it doesn't slow her down at all." His maw clicks, another happy chuckle. "Then worriesss. Thisss one thanksss you for sssuch a persssonal gift."

He loops the small trinket over his head to dangle over his neck for now. "Ah, thisss one rememberss you mentioning sssomething like that, about talking with Angoron. They do not undersstand the magicsss asss much, it isss still a strange thing, but what do you mean thingsss catch fire?"

"A metal leg? Like Zeke's? That's pretty neat. I am glad she has something that good to make her life better." Murder nods slowly. "It's personal because.. it also says that should someone harm you... I will come for vengeance upon them. So they will be harried in this world and the next."

Her shoulders roll slightly. She turns and looks for something in the nearby woods. Gesturing, she lets out a yell in Goblin, and a fallen log nearby catches fire. Something she runs over quickly to extinguish.

"Ssshaman Zeke'sss isss cryssstal," Skiel gently corrects. He scratches his head. "Sssome may not need sssuch vengeance in the beyond. They appreciate the protection, though, and will honor it."

The makari startles at the yell, and then wood catches fire! "Ah!" he gasps, getting up and rushing over alongside her. He pulls back a hand to ward Murder, and he deeply inhales.

Then a flash freeze of frozen air is blasted out form his maw to squash the flames.

She squeaks at the sudden blast of frozen air, and laughs as it puts out the fire. Her expression is full of mischief, and when she opens her (much smaller) maw, flames lick out. Murder gestures at him to stay back, and she huffs out a blast of fire, which sets the log on fire again, though the surrounding vegetation is wet, and simply smokes under the heat.

The Goblin crosses her arms, "Can you do it again?"

Skielstregar leans back as the blast of fire reignites the log, frost and fog rolling out from his maw. He chuckles. "Yesss, can do it a few more timesss."

Seeing that it was time for another blast, inhales deeply once more, spewing the log and surrounding vegetation with mot snap frozen blast, extinguishing it.

The makari starts to pant slightly, the coldness around him stronger, each breath spilling out more frozen air. "Probably shouldn't do that much more. Thisss one lovesss the cold, but they have to make themsselvesss /really/ cold for that."

"And that isss just being sith-makari from the silver blood, nothing to do with thisss one's magicsss," Skiel adds.

Murder squeaks again, the blast of air close enough to muss her hair, and disturb the leather she wears. Wrapping her arms about her, she shivers. "I am sure this is awesome on a hot summer day, and I am going to ask you to blast me."

She nods in response to him speaking of his blood. "Yes, you really are like a small silver dragon. Do you have a lair and hoard?"

Skielstergar opens his maw. "No."

Pause. His eyes wander. "... erm... wait. Thisss one collectsss many glasss figuresss. And they have camp." His face frosts, moreso given his exertions. "... then, yesss."

Malefic can be heard laughing back at camp.

"Ah. Thisss one should tell you more about their magicsss," he murmurs, rubbing his neck.

The Goblin grins cheekily at his partial confusion. "Oh, glass figures? At a camp?" She pauses, thinking. "Can I see?"

Murder nods then, giggling lightly, "Yeah. Sorry, I keep distracting you. I'll be quiet now."

Skielstregar chuckles. "Perhapsss one day you can," he concedes before taking a slow breath. He closes his eyes.

And begins. "Thisss one isss powered by very powerful necromanciesss. They are not alive. But not exactly dead either. While they have their own, personal strength, there isss this... every... beat of thisss one'sss heart, thisss one can feel in their veinsss, their bonesss, their hide thisss... this... you know how you feel when you are sssick with fever, and shivering from it? It feelsss like that. You can probably sssmell it."

He clinches his fists. Black ichor seeps out from under the cuff of the glove and drips out, smelling foul. "Thisss one isssn't sure how sssome ssspellss work, they jussst reveal themssselvesss. But if they... if they jussst. Make thisss affliction do it-" black energies waft from his hands, arms seeping this black ink, "-it bendsss to their will. The hunger it wantssss... immoral thingsss. But they will not /allow/ it."

Murder listens, though it is obvious the inky darkness causes some concern. The Gobbo nods her head, understanding the feeling of fever and shivering almost uncontrollably. "It smells of Death.", she says softly. Her nose wrinkles as he makes the ichor leak out. "I understand. I can make it do what I want when I... allow myself to get angry."

"Immoral? It makes you want to eat... people, yes?"

Now that was a question. In makari culture, such a thing is abhorrent for a multitude of reasons. And it's clear on his visage, even across ancestries, that such a question garners a grimace akin to a faux pas. But the disgusted expression stays and slowly morphs into resolve. His eyes open, head tilted skyward. He doesn't answer right away.

"Thiss one spoke to the Dragonfather through Zeke. Asssk him many quessstionsss. They learn many thingssss: He ssstill watchesss thisss one. Malefic usssed to be Hisss servant. Thisss one'sss return from death wasss a complicated endeavor involving Him and the Death Sssinger."

His head slowly turns down to Murder. "Thisss one asssked Him if thisss hunger will ever be sated or go away. He said... no. It will never leave thisss one. It isss part of them, now."

His nostrils flare. "To anssswer your quessstion... yesss," he answers hesitantly. "But- they won't. Not now. Not ever. I am in control, and it will not morph me into the monster it wantsss me to be."

A look of awe slowly comes over Murder in the telling of the answer. "The Dragonfather... Daeus himself interceded in your death, and watches over you still." She lets out a huff of breath. "While some people might believe such, that their God or Goddess watches over them, knowing such is powerful. That's amazing..."

The Goblin reaches out to pat at his forearm, heedless of it's icy bite. "I will promise you one thing. If you ever feel yourself falter in that resolve, we are mortal after all, I will help you in any way I can." Murder rubs at her chin. "How do you battle it, yourself? Is there a thought you keep in your mind, a vision, maybe some physical thing?"

Skielstregar is frigid cold, far more so after utilizing many of those ice blasts. Aside from that, his forearms are rife with old scars of bite marks. It's easy to put two and two together after such admittance that they are self inflicted. "It isss awe inspiring, for certain. And it helped evaporate many doubtssss thisss one hasss had. While they cannot feel the Dragonfatherssss light, they can ressst well in mind and ssspirit that thisss one can ssserve in Hisss shadow."

His tail thumps against the ground once. "Thisss one thanksss you for sssuch offering, but, thisss one hass been rather good in their resssolve. They learned they cannot stuff it away." He gestures out to the wilds. "One part isss letting loose. Give it an outlet againssst felled wood and hunt wild game. But in battle, thisss one merely hasss one thought: don't be a monssster. If you ever... erm... sssee thisss one in ssuch a state, know they will be rude, may snap at you, may even insult, but they will not do anything more, and they apologize in advance."

Skiel gestures to Murder. "And what of you? What keepsss your focus in ssuch a state?"

Murder giggles and then laughs. "Skiel, you could never be in anyone's shadow, not even a God's, when you are THAT shiny!" She allows herself to be distracted a moment by her image in his scales. In that moment, it is obvious she is covetous of those shiny scales.

She offers a dismissive wave. "Maybe you'll snap and insult, but heh, I already know there's nothing I could really do about it. Can't say I'll take it with good humour, but I can take it." Her expression grows thoughtful.

"I can't say that a whole lot rattles around up there when I let the red cloud my vision and head. But, well. Fallen family. My twin sister, lost to the mists. Fallen mates. Fallen friends. And current friends, like you. I focus on that, and try to be what they hope I could be."

Skiel can't help but chuckle at that. "That isss very fair, it isss hard to be in a ssshadow like thisss. They were not thisss shiny before, but, thisss one likesss it." Tail sway.

He listens, somberly nodding. "Sssuch memory isss good to hold onto, the People do their bessst to remember all that are gone. And thisss one isss glad you try to keep that ssself image in mind for friendsss."

A rumble thrums in his chest. Thoughtful. "It isss interesssting though. Thisss one hasss learned. Being tinged with death isss... a twisted boon. Many ghosts and hauntsss, thisss one can expel with eassse. Thisss one is very, very good at fighting the undead because of it. And the magic isss... helpful. Strange, terrifying at timesss, but helpful. Thisss one'sss steed isss such manifestation. But it hasss been some time sssince another.... erm. New magicsss sort of jussst... happen sometimes. They do not know what will happen next."

Murder is happily rubbing at his arm scales with a bit of fur. "I like how it looks on you." She nods. "It is helpful to keep the present in mind, I think. Can't be eternally stuck in the past, or worry too much about the future. But the present is always there."

At mention of new spells, Murder laughs. "Wait til you wake up in the middle of the night to pee, and then something just jumps into your head and everything around you is on fire."

Now /that/ gets a guffaw to rip free from Skiel's maw. "PAH! That isss certainly a way to learn. For thisss one, the death ssstartsss leaking everywhere. They can ussse magicsss to grow really big! They ussse it a lot to uproot treesss and chop them down. But when it firssst happened... they were with friendsss, and it wasss very uncertain what wasss happening. They try to take caution if it happensss, because some of the magicsss that have been reveal to thisss one aren't... erm. Kind."

"Oh, that's scary... it happened in the middle of Alexandria. Luckily it allowed me to jump. Fire came after. Though the first thing I did was jump into a window high up... I wanted to see what was up there. A scream and merry chase through Alexandria later, and I'd learned my lesson."

Skiel chuffs at that story. "Sssa, besst not sssearch in the tall buildingsss. Thisss one found many people live in thosse. And, well, they tend to not fit in the softskin roomsss sometimesss."

The freezing effects on him seem to have subsided, him looking over the blasted, frozen scape. With a grunt, he straightens up and casts a glance to the moon. "Hmmm. Thisss one appreciatesss the time and wordsss shared, but they mussst continue their patrol, Murder."

Murder's expression is thoughtful once more, before she giggles. "Oh gosh, I can imagine. Getting stuck would be... embarrassing." She nods, and then ohs! Disappearing into her camp, she returns a short time later, holding up a paper-wrapped package that is warm to the touch. "Some wild pheasant I roasted up with hot peppers, with nice crispy skin. Be well, and be safe, Skiel. Stop by any time!"

Skiel wobbles a hand. "It isss more bumping head and hornsss into ceilingsss and doorsss." He blinks as she dashes off, but the smell of the package hits first before he takes it. There's a rumbling roil in his chest. "Ah. Sssa, thisss one thankss you for the meal. They will enjoy it sssoon. Peasse on your nessst, and good luck with your repairssss."

He steps away, ambling towards the woods as he raises a hand. "Hither, pleassse," he calls out. In a heartbeat, a pool black miasma races from Murder's camp across the ground. It practically leaps off the ground in a haze before the ink solidifies into the gleaming halberd in his waiting hand.

And he whistles loud, breaking into a sprint into the woods. A midnight blur races by, hollow hooves announcing their presence, and he leaps onto it, readily and briskly being whisked away.

-End Scene-