Heat Stones and Castes

It's well into the evening in the local area around Akochilistli Kuauhtla. The Ziggurat's big flame burns brightly, lighting the skies along with the many other fires. The main road that has served as a market-like space has cleared out by the time Skielstregar arrives to one of the 'nearby' communities of the Children of Flame.

Harkashan is waiting for him there, standing at the edge of the jungle. The road inwards only really revealed by the amount of travel that has crossed it over the years, rather than anything of brick or paving.

A hand going up on Skielstregar getting closer, greeting him. "Peace upon your nest, Warrior." Harkashan bids to the Pale one.

On the other side of the portal, it's very clear Skielstregar is getting a proverbial frisking, seen off to the side through the large gate. Words are unable to be heard, but he's dumping out a bag, piles and piles of weapons interdimensionally shoved in. Warrior's tools. Druids pace him up and down, dousing him in spells, trying to find /something/ that kept picking up on him. But he shows a medal off, a ribbon on it with Alexandria's colors with the Vardaman temple's icon upon it. That seemed to speed up the hold, as he gathers his things and heads on through.

Skielstregar, the shiny silverscale, holds up head up high as his eyes close to take in the scents of Am'shere with a deep breath. The other makari about have a visible reaction, getting faintly tense upon his arrival, but unsure as to why. The familiar tinge of dread crawling its way towards Harkashan.

Getting pulled back from memory from greetings, Skiel refocuses on the present, head canting down slightly as a hand rises in return. "Peace on your nest, Shaman," he rumbles warmly, speaking in his native tongue of Draconic. "It has been some time since this one was back home."

Aelwyn stands nearby with his glaive held by the shoulder, arm draped over it. "Silver," He greets out, tail swaying behind him with a degree of excitement.

The tension the other makari carry is not present in the ruddy scaled sith-makar, draped in red ribbons and loincloth. "Peace on their nest," He greets with a bow of his head. "This one is glad that one is in good health."

Whichever that meant with Skielstregar. Stepping closer, he reaches into the satchel wrapped about his hips, and digs out something small. Stretching it out, he holds it out to the really-way-too-large-makari. "For this one's apology." It was a tiny makari wooden carving that Aelwyn held out between his fingers.

It takes a few hours travel from the Portal to get to Akochilistli Kuauhtla. Guides are offered to Skielstregar if he needs them to help guard him along the way. Once there though~

A long deep bow of Harkashan's head on the return of greetings. That familiar tinge of dread for once having been expected means that Harkashan isn't so much under guard. "Safe travels?" He asks, motioning to approach, then turning to walk the main road. "Your home is glad to have you back."

Akochilistli Kuauhtla is a fairly thriving community close to the Am'shere's portal. They are more used to softskin merchants coming through from time to time. The jungles are kept fairly safe by patrolling Hunters. It's especially well known for its spice market - as people like Fidget and Schara had recently discovered.

There's some activity in the streets still. There's various large stones here and there which had absorbed the sun's warming rays, with a few Sith-makar just laying on them.

"It's good to have you here." Harkashan rumbles to the taller Sith-makar, looking up at the dead-eyed one.

He then turns to Aelwyn, nodding his head, then tilts it when he spots the 'trade' happening. "What's the apology for?" He asks of him, curious what may have transpired.

Skielstregar tilts his head curiously at the offered wooden carving. He takes it carefully between two talons. It's inspected, a small chuff escaping him of approval. "This one thanks you for the gift, Aelwyn. Though...-" he scratches his head. "This one does not remember what apology."

"Ssa. Safe travels, they missed the scent of this place," he reminisces with Harkashan, giving a polite bow and waving off the guides that wish to guard them along the way.

When they arrive at Akochilistli Kuauhtla, his eyes widen somewhat at the space, dead gaze drifting to and fro at all that is about. Large tail swaying in careful yet deliberate swings. "... this one, from what they remember, only lived in a smaller village. They had never been to a larger commune," he whispers in slight awe. "Thank you for bringing this one here."

He's totally not eying the warming stones.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Sense Motive: (12)+13: 25
<OOC> Harkashan updates that to a 30, because Skiel is a Sith-makar. He knows you want them hot rocks.

Aelwyn makes a gesture with his hand around his chest, then tilts his head. He leaves the conversation at that though, picking up his glaive and following on after the other makari.

"From what Silver can remember? Has it truly been that long?" The draconian asks with a tilt of his head. "... tch, perhaps not answer that one."

Seeing the Silvery slab of sith eye the stones, he moves closer and thwips with his tail at the other's ankles. "They are too comfortable; suck one into lazing deep into the night." He rumbles with a tempting grin.

Harkashan bows his head as Skielstregar speaks of missing the scent of this place. The Jungle. The constant bird-calls and buzzing of insects in the air. The strange calls in the distance of Thunderlizards and other strange creatures.

Unlike in Alexandria, where the roads are quiet, and the lands are rolling and plain outside of the simple forests - there is always something here. Always sounds. There isn't a constant concern for crime - instead, there are patrols in case of Charn interference. Tribal issues aren't as common here so close to the portal as they might be closer to the Great Plains.

He guides Skiel through the 'main road', leading from the outskirts towards the Ziggurat itself. Motioning at the standing pillars. Colorful, and many featuring old paintings and carvings of Old Gods and Dragons. There's an obvious sense of reverance to the Ancestors no matter where one looks. The spice market, closed right now, still leaves some pots sitting out. Empty of spice, but the smells, the smells are still there.

"I come from a small commune myself." Harkashan answers Skielstregar. "My hatchling family was one largely made of Warriors. Though I did not remain there for long. I traveled to many a tribe in my role as Deathsinger..." As Pyre Burner.

Noticing Skiel's staring, Harkashan motions to an area closer to the Ziggurat. "The best rocks are at the end of the road." He bids.

A glance to Aelwyn, giving naught away of the 'apology', before it returns to the road. "Right now, we're here to deal with the runaway Noble from Alexandria. He's being safeguarded by an Exile Sith-makar. The group is planning to challenge him and his tribe." Harkashan remarks. "It'll be a tough fight."

What was looking incredibly out of place at one of the fires nearby further into the camp was a brown haired elf who was parked on a small pile of furs. A bit stranger still was the fact that both arms were made of wood and metal. They had a book propped against one arm while a pen was tucked into their mouth, with which they scribbled furiously as a wizened looking makari finished recounting one of their tales about a hunt with one of the massive saurians that prowl the jungles. The elf in question closes the book and thanks the keeper in draconic, before standing up to look around. They were still wearing the thunder lizard-tooth necklace from earlier when they catch the familiar faces, and they give a rather rigid looking wave.

"Mister Harkashan, Aelwyn, and Skielstregar too? Peace on your nests!" They greet. "It is good to see you all, I wasn't expecting you to show up, Skielstregar, but I'm glad you did."

Skielstregar glances down at Aelwyn and his gesture, eyes following the motion around their ches- "Oh," the silverscale blinks. "That. This one forgave. Need not worry. But they appreciate the gift nonetheless." It's carefully put into the bag on his back.

He shakes his head to Aelwyn as he continues to slowly amble through the city, taking in the artifacts to ancestry with fresh, and eager, eyes. "This one does not remember the past that well. Save for small flashes. Tribe was some Warriors, some Hunters. Not big," he says to both of them. "Though, Deathsinger would have never an end to things to do for the People." Sniff. The spices. A large grumble comes from his gut. "Mmm..."

Shaking his head to focus on the two, the best hot rocks are noted for later as he leans against Malefic. His scaled brows furrow. "How tough? This one is happy to lend a hand with being a part of a challenge, but this one thinks there is... more to it than that? This one can be a... what do the soft skins say? Paper up the cuff? Something with a card..."

His attention shifts to a foreign sounding Draconic, eyes nictating briefly as he stiffens at the sight of an elf. But it briskly goes away as his ice cube for a brain tries to place the figure. "... peace on your nest," he greets in Draconic. Sniff. Peer. "Ah. Schara. Sorry, it has been some time since this one saw you without armor."

"Has Silver been visiting the dark dens by the warehouses?" Aelwyn rumbles in amusement, giving another playful tap with his tail at the Silver's ankles. "Perhaps been picking up small pieces of paper with symbols and numbers on them, slide coins across the wooden boxes?" He flashes his teeth. "Little ace in the sleeve?"

The Dragoon then turns towards Harkashan and bows his head. "This one shall commit to his own tasks, but one will return later for this... display of prowess." He flashes his teeth. "Tch, usually it is not a group effort."

When Schara comes in vision, the Dragoon turns his head - and he too, briefly, tilts his head, but his expression brightens. "Brass. Looking as impressive as ever." He walks a bit closer towards her. "Still studying everything one can see?"

"You are right... as a Deathsinger, I never had an end of things to do. I began most of my work when the Charn first invaded. Before the Awakening." He rumbles to Skielstregar as they carry on further forward.

As the topic turns to the ace up on peoples sleeve, Harkashan shakes his head; "I do not know. But I am sure your aid would be valuable if you did turn up." He notes.

"It must be strange for my people, seeing you write down their tales." Harkashan bids to Schara as they get a bit closer. "But they seem to be enjoying getting to tell their tales." He bows his head deeply to the strange Elf with the arms of wood and metal.

"Lady Schara." He then answers. "Peace upon your nest." The Sith-makar looks aside to Skielstregar. "I originally invited him to help on... a very different matter entirely." He then explains to her.

He then bemusedly notes; "A one-on-one has too much chance to go horribly wrong. And it does not prove strength of a community." To Aelwyn.

"Oh, I actually know that one! But I don't think it would be relevant to Skielstregar." Schara answers. "It refers to an ace hidden in a person's clothing, which implies an unfair advantage due to unknown factors, but I don't think that Skielstregar would be cheating."

"And that's what they were saying, it's just as important to be able to work together towards goals as individual prowess, since I don't think a single person could take down some of the beasts they were talking about."

"I guess it is a bit strange, since they remember everything with the stories they tell, but I want to make sure that I can, too." They answer to Harkashan. "But, Skielstregar isn't here to help? Well, that's okay, what matter brings him here? Is it something I can help with?" They ask.

"I'm not studying everything, Aelwyn, but I'd like to take this chance to learn more while I can. I thought if I need to prove myself in some form for this work, it would be best to know how the warriors and hunters function, so I can best prepare myself. And I'm working more at understanding some information is off limits, so not everything, in that regard." She answers to Aelwyn.

Skielstregar visibly grows more confused as Aelwyn goes on, the large tail arresting its sway to hang limp as he's trying to follow along. Tail smack. Schara adding in more explanation. Blink. "... what?" he eventually ends up conceding.

He just leaves that confusion there. Softskin idioms tend sail over some sith-makar. Skiel is a prime example. Regardless, he bobs his head at Harkashan. "Ssa. A sad time," he rumbles, looking up at the pillars and ziggurat once more. "But we're doing better overall..."

Focusing on the present, he chuffs. "Sssa. This one will help where they can. Be it on this softskin hiding among exiles, or in other matters. To be honest, they are glad to visit home," he hums, reaching up to readjust the fierce looking cryohydra pauldron to sit better.

He finds a nearby hotstone to sit down, sighing in relief at the feeling as he leaves Malefic across his lap. "We are better with stories and pictures," he rumbles. "Helps the People know of the ancestors. Most have a caste, their jobs and duties easily defined. If... you need to know more about Warriors, this one can tell you more," he offers, gesturing to himself.

Aelwyn moves to stand by Schara, hand moving to rest by his satchel while he holds his glaive by his shoulder. "This one should remind himself to ask Brass whence he needs to learn something." The draconian rumbles in amusement, tail swaying behind him. "Has she been studying the ports of Alexandria by any chance? Any interesting ships sail by?"

Meanwhile, he turns to look towards Harkashan. "This one supposes it is something that concerns the matters beyond?" He asks, as far as Skielstregar's purpose is. "... and should we not feed Silver and Malefic, before the stones shall disappear?" He continues, a grin on his face as he leans his weight on the other food.

Harkashan nods at Schara, who has understood the meaning behind the community challenge. "Correct. Though our warriors are measured by their strength and their deeds, the jungles of Am'shere are dangerous. Those who work together are oft far more succesful than those who stand alone." He explains. More-so ever since the war.

"And indeed. There is... a great deal of ease by which we sometimes remember things. But what's more... we generally try not to live in the past." He adds. "Writing things down, holding grudges." A shake of his head. He has thoughts on the matter he doesn't go into.

As the topic shifts to just why Skielstregar is here. What he's here to help with, Harkashan goes a bit quiet. After all... he is here to help him with a more personal matter. A matter that makes him feel a bit vulnerable. "This one... is having problems with his memories." He explains to Schara and Aelwyn in a way that feels deeply fragile. Like an old man talking about his memories going. Except, that's not quite what is happening.

But memories, to Sith-makar, are important.

As Skielstregar moves to sit on a Hotstone, Harkashan joins him. Within these lands, he's more at ease with sitting close to the undying one. Lifting one leg up, leaning on it.

"It makes sense to have things specialized and offer proper training to everyone, you're right, Skielstregar." The Elf nods as she finds a place to sit down nearby. With a bit of effort the manage to swing their arms back into their lap, and drop the pen they were holding into a pocket. "Of course! If I could talk to anyone about warrior caste things, that would make a lot of sense."

"Of course, you can ask me about things any time! I'd be happy to teach you more. I don't spend that much time at the docks, but there's a fishing boat that comes back to port every week and a half or so, and they often have sharks with them. So Miss Slatesteel worked out a deal for sharkskin for the weapons she makes when necessary, but I don't know many other boats outside of that." She answers to Aelwyn. "Feeding Malefic? Does Malefic eat food now?" They wonder, now staring at the silver makari. "Is Malefic doing more things now you didn't tell me about?"

Any further inquiries were stopped by listening more to Harkashan. "You are having memory problems? In what way? I know there are magic spells for dealing with them, would that help?" They wonder aloud.

Skielstregar snorts at Aelwyn. "This one does not eat rocks," he wags a teasing finger at the Dragoon.

"I'll chomp one if the mood strikes," Malefic quips.

The silverscale gives the weapon a glance before rolling his eyes playfully. A nod with Harkashan. "Yes. Warriors must work together, both with each other, and other castes. There is no Crafters with no Hunters to find and hunt. There is no Shamans and Lore-Keepers with no People to teach. There are no Warriors without People to defend."

He glances to the lava-scale at the expounding of his reason for being here. A hand raises, only to rest on Harkashan's shoulder to give him emotional support as he sits down beside him. Large tail slides over to give Hark's a nudge.

Schara asks some pointed questions. One that Skielstregar opens his maw to say. But the weapon, yet again, beats him to the punch. The jagged crack splits open, and a metallic, growling voice. "I do lots of things now, Schara. Though... scorning the Father... I think I'll leave you guessing~"

Skiel squints at the weapon. "They are very petty."

"I am not petty." Pause. "... I have lines."

"... which are...?"

"The sun looks great today. Praise be."

Skiel smacks his forehead.

Aelwyn looks up towards the sky. "The sun does look great today." He stretches out with his chest; letting the rays hit his exposed scales. Yesss. One thing he could agree with Malefic.

Relaxing then, he tilts his head at Schara. "Sharkskins?" He lets out a click of his teeth. "An interesting trade. Perhaps she shall tell this one if something else passes by?"

The Dragoon rumbles in amusement. "One can show prowess in group; that is true. Yet very often with men, one has the urge to show how one performs alone." More flashing of his teeth. "Different worlds, this one supposes."

The topic of memories makes the smaller sith-makar tilt his head, the ribbons following. Clicking his teeth again, he starts to walk towards the larger makari. "Memories flow like sand." He twists his lip. "This one hopes Silver helps one." Picking up his cloak and adjusting his satchel, he bows his head then. "This one shall return, yet the road demands this one's attention." He rumbles in amusement, before starting to head off."

The elf blinks, and stares at the weapon when it seems to speak up and move a bit on it's own. They start to open their mouth, but then the weapon continues talking. She opens her mouth again, closes it, and sighs. "That's okay, Malefic. It's only fair, my own misgivings and frustrations with the gods do not give me an excuse to be rude to people or ask for what I want out of some sense of earned entitlement." Schara answers. "So it's okay if you don't wish to tell me anything, and I will have to respect that."

"I'll make sure to let you know if any other interesting ships pass by, but are you looking for something particular? I didn't know boats interested you, Aelwyn, but I will make sure to remember that. Safe travels, Aelwyn." She asks of Aelwyn before he departs, attention turning back to the others. "So, what's the difference between a warrior and a hunter? It seems that they're mostly interchangeable, but I'm sure there are specifics I'm missing."

The copper-scale Sith approaches the warming rocks from one of many trails that criss-cross the area, seemingly appearing out of the jungle randomly. Geir looks exhausted, leaning heavily upon his spear as he walks. With some difficulty, he pulls himself up onto one of the warmspots, and settles with a lengthy sigh.

Skielstregar raises a hand towards Aelwyn. "Peace on your nest, Dragoon Aelwyn," he rumbles warmly, leaning back to catch more of the sun, shiny scales sparkling in the light. "This one will help where they can to the best of their ability."

Watching Aelwyn go briefly, his attention shifts to the elf. As well as Malefic's mild scolding. "While this one can forgive, Malefic was once a very devout servant to the Dragonfather-"

"Praise unto Him."

"-so it may take more for her to let it slide," Skiel continues through as Malefic speaks, him seemingly expecting the quip. The weapon's jagged maw just grins in that broken, off putting manner.

The question gets Skielstregar to lean in, hand still on Harkashan as Malefic rests on his lap. "Warriors are skilled fighters. They defend the tribe from threats. Hunters know the lay of the land, bring food to the tribe. Also warns the tribe of incoming dangers, so the Warriors can assemble and meet the danger head on. The castes are similar, but think of Hunters as the eyes, and the Warriors as the spears. We rely on the Hunters to know where to point us."

A copper-scale flopping onto a nearby rock gets Skiel to glance over. Blink. And his tail sways subtly behind him. "... Shaman Gier. Are you well? This one is surprised to find you at home."

"Hrrmmm." Harkashan closes his eyes for a moment as Schara speaks to him of his memory problems. "Moments of Deja Vu. Yet, when I try to recollect them... they slip from between my fingers." He answers Schara. Lifting his hands, opening his eyes, looking at his fingers in that moment.

"Memories that are not mine."

He tilts his head, looking at the hand on his shoulder. Touching his hand over Skiel's, closing his eyes slightly. Showing a deep sort of appreciation at the gesture. "Thank you, Kin." He answers him.

His tail coils with Skiel's. No doubt giving him lots of warmth to absorb. Poor cold silverscale. His head tilting up as Geir approaches. "Deathsinger Geir." He rumbles to him. A more precise caste than Shaman. "You look tired. Have you gotten too used to the soft beds of the Softskin lands?" He inquires.

He leaves it to Skiel to explain the matter of the Castes and difference on Hunters and Warriors.

"Geir is helping with the matter of the runaway noble." Harkashan then explains to Skielstregar.

"Hunters also are more likely to train as Riders - Taming beasts." He then explains to Schara. "Think of it as a more... supporting role to the Warriors. The vanguard and the scouts, in military terms."

"That's okay, I don't expect forgiveness from Malefic, only to acknowledge the results of my own actions, and not pin them on excuses or anything else." The artificer answers. "So that's okay!"

Schara turns to see Geir arriving, and gives them a rigid looking wave. "Oh, hello mister Geir! It's Schara from the other day. But the others are right, are you okay? Do you need healing, food, or water? You look exhausted, so I could go get you something if you need it."

She stops for a moment to consider everything said, and nod. "Okay, soit's like the difference between the town guard and well, hunters. No one expects the hunters to defend against things, even if they can and do help, at least not on their own. Their primary goal is to keep food on the tables and make sure things are alright in the surrounding area." They muse for a time. "If they aren't your memories, then maybe you need to use magic to see them? It might be able to recollect them in a way you can not yourself. Regardless, by the way you were acting, I was worried you were losing your memories, and I'm glad to see that is not the case."

Geir nods to SKiel. "Peace on your nesstss.", he intones to the others. He offers Skielstregar a nod, "It is good to see you once more. Your scales are as mirror like as ever." His expression grows distant at the mention of being home. "It hasss been a long road travelled. And some eventss have spurred this one to return to return."

The copper-scale nods to Harkashan, "As this one's fellow Deathsinger sayss, this one is here to deal with the softskin noble."

He chuckles at Harkashan then. "No, this one has merely gotten used to the more temperate climate, and traveled far and wide in scale armor. Under robes at times. The climate of home saps at one's endurance and is not assisssted by heavy armor and gear."

His eyes shift to Schara, and he shakes his head. "It is well, this one will drink more water and trust in sleep to mend his tiredness. This one thanks you for the concern."

Skielstregar is, to put it bluntly, a heat sponge. Frigid cold. But he seems quite used to soaking it in, letting his tail get wrapped up. The Warrior barely warms up. He rumbles quietly. "Of course."

Half wrapped up now, and certain his Chiuaa would have a field day with this, he makes an affirmative grunt. "This one sees. They are glad that Geir is helping with his endeavor. He is good Kin."

The Warrior caste slowly nods to Schara, Malefic having nothing more to say on the matter. "Essentially, yes, you have the right of it." He glances to Harkashan. "This one knows of some Shamans that can do just that, look at memories. It may help you. Perhaps our ventures will be using such a thing."

"It is good to see you too, Shaman Geir. This one thanks you for the kind words," he rumbles warmly. "But please, take caution here. Home is comforting, but not the kind of place to take a nap under a tree like Alexandria."

"Perhaps." Harkashan offers, at the suggestion that magic might help him reach deeper into those memories. At her mention of losing memories, he makes a hesitant sound. "I don't think I am... but since I keep feeling like I recognize something, it makes it hard to tell." He admits.

Back to Geir, Harkashan offers; "Ah, we have ways for that." He then motions to Skielstregar. "Those who overheat, lay with the Silver ones." He explains very simply, touching the back of his hand to Skiel's shoulder.

"Okay, well, alright then. I don't actually have any water on me, which is probably a mistake, it's all back with my armor." The artificer answers. "You don't need to thank me though, I didn't actually do anything."

"Yes, I wouldn't want to nap under a tree here. Not after the guide here pointed out one that attempts to strangle people with it's vines. Maybe if I knew the tree and the area was safe, maybe."

"It is pretty hot here, but it's alright, it's just like the evening after a morning rain in the summer, but more often." She adds. "You all seem very comfortable together, I imagine that has to do with the reliance on others to assist people. I wouldn't worry Harkashan, I think you're doing alright for now, but I'll keep an eye on how you're doing to see if anything doesn't match up."

The copper-scale nods to SKielstregar, "This one is aware of Am'shere's dangers. This one did survive to be named, after all." A snort of air, and a nictating eyelid wink later, Geir nods to Harkashan. "That is a good suggessstion, however this one doesn't wish to crowd kin."

Geir stretches then, and tilts his head side to side, several pops and cracks heard, which elicits a satisfied grunt from the Deathsinger.

"What of you, Skielstregar? What brings you to Am'shere?" He raises a hand to wave dismissively. "This one helps out where it is needed, and this one thanks you for the compliment."

Geir nods to Schara. "Ah, this one was simply thankful for the concern. Heat problemss can come on suddenly, and some Sith are... stubborn. Not sure where thiss reputation has come from, honesstly." He chuckles lightly. "But it is good that you were watchful. Pleasse continue to be, as others certainly will be as well. As for comfortableness together... It is probably due to the fact that there is lesss resistance to relying on otherss. More willingness to take comfort in one's kin. Even disstant kin."

Skielstregar pats Hark's shoulder in a gentle reminder that everything was okay, despite adjacent memories slipping through one's fingers. They were here in home. That's a step further than before.

He shrugs to Schara. "We share what we can. This one does not mind people being close. Especially if they can stave off too much heat by just being close. So, you have the right of it, as does Shaman Geir. This one knows softskins have this... invisible bubble they talk about. Personal bubble. This one suggests napping out in the open or under shade near Kin. Easier to keep on eye on you."

The Warrior snorts with Geir. "Yes, yes. They meant nothing by it." At the notion of crowding kin, he just shrugs and opens an arm up. "At least here, this one won't /actually/ freeze anyone. Too warm here."

He glances up at Geir, before his gaze slides off to one of the colorful columns. "This one is here to help Harkashan with a personal matter. If they can help in other ways, they will help."

Harkashan nods to Skiel, thankful still. "I do not wish to speak for the Warrior, but I believe the only worry you would have is Malefic getting jealous." He rumbles in a teasing tone, offering a nictating wink back to Geir and Skielstregar both.

"And I am sure that if you go to some of the hunters, they can help you recognize the trees in question." He then offers to Schara. "But generally, avoid the trees that have moving vines." He adds playfully. It seems he's looking to avoid the focus on himself for now.

There's a nod then. "Hrrm. We lay together for warmth, we lay together for cool. Eggs are laid and guarded mutually, due to the risk of wild beasts stealing them. In general, we've settled as a community. And our Castes tend to raise our young more-so than the Egglaying ones." There's a pause, before he adds; "It is like the Softskin saying... 'It Takes A Village'?"

"I don't know where the reputation comes from, but I don't know many sith-makari." The artificer answers. "And of the ones I know, Aelwyn behaves and grew up differently from most, so he seems to act differently, and I do not know Skielstregar that well to make any judgements. From what I have seen, most in the markets didn't seem to stubborn, at least." She continues, tilting her head after a moment. "Would you be willing to help represent us against Xioyah, Skielstregar? He's supposed to be really big and strong, but I think it would be difficult for him to be bigger and stronger than you, so if he respects strength as was said, he may defer to you, even if it requires fighting."

Harkashan's metaphor, the artificer sighs, and shakes her head. "It's supposed to work like that, yes. That sounds like a nice prospect, though."

"This one is just tired.", Geir says to Skielstregar. "It was ansswered more roughly than this one intended." He looks between Harkashan and SKielstregar, and nods. "This one could find another place, if this one is intruding."

Another snort is had, and the copper-scale chuckles. "This one is sure that ... Malefic would probably be more annoyed with the ssnoring. And it is nice to see that the softskins have an appropriate saying for our way of upgringing. There is much we have in common, this one has learned over the yearss."

The copper-scale nods to Schara, "This one has been informed on many occasions that this one can be quite stubborn."

"Jealousy is beneath me, Harkashan" Malefic quips.

"You whined for two straight hours when this one missed buying a glass figure, and saw it when someone else had it," Skiel deadpans down at the weapon.

The halberd stops. Pauses. And rolls off Skiel's lap. Continuing to roll until it comes to a halt in the open sun. The silverscale chuffs, shaking his head at the sentient polearm's antics "Regardless, yes. It takes a village to raise the eggs. Practically everything is to share with one another. But, as Geir says, we are very close to softskins in many ways. Despite how Aelwyn may act, he is rather closer to Kin than he may realize..."

The question gets Skiel to blink. "Well, erm, this one would not mind lending a hand, but this one is already a proven Warrior caste. This one is not the challenging member. And to be honest, this one feels as if your chances may go /down/ if this one joins. A threat to their pride may make them become viscous or worse."

Annoyed with snoring? Malefic makes no comment, but, from the sunspot it is resting in- "The snoring I can deal with. Skielstregar is a cuddler. I want to see his Radiance on the first dawn, but I cannot half the time because I am trapped."

Skiel's face frosts over while squinting at Malefic. "... I... do not do that..." he lies.

"Stubbornness comes from many places. Pride, experience." Harkashan shakes his head. "It cannot be avoided. But I am not sure Sith-makar are particularly prone to it more-so than Softskins." He proposes, as the topic lays on that matter for a little while.

Then, a little grunt, as Schara mentions that it 'is supposed to work like that'. "It is hardly perfect. Sometimes, familial ties cling." He huffs for a moment. "And on rare occassion, the ones that cling are akin to Zeke's egg-laying parent. Caste are supposed to protect from that..." He huffs with a tone of sadness.

Perhaps he should invite Zeke here. Help welcome him into proper caste. Into new family.

He then notices Malefic throw a little tantrum. He doesn't make a sound, but he is amused.

"Have you heard of what Aelwyn wishes to become, amongst Caste?" He then asks the rest of the group? A tone of pride to his voice. Trying to give Skiel an out on the matter of the Sun and his sleeping habits.

"You aren't intruding at all, mister Geir." The elf answers, tilting their head again. "It looks to me like everyone is trying to be as welcoming as they can be in fact, so I see no issues."

"I guess there are things in common, you're right." They add with another nod. "Sometimes, at least, but that's not important."

Schara watches the polearm roll away, and nods. "Autonomous movement to some degree, that's amazing. I can't even begin to consider the implications of something like that, or the function, and it's not my place to but it's fascinating." They continue to muse before coughing. "Ah, that's okay if it wouldn't be a wise idea, I'm sure we'll be able to manage. After all, Aelwyn will be there and, no, I didn't know what he wishes to be. I don't know what caste would fit someone with such an insistence on improving their ability to dance. Is there one that would make sense for that?"

Skielstregar gives a soft, deflating sigh. "Sssa, not perfect. This one knows full well about that," he murmurs, rubbing the side of his face. Apparently having his own dealings with family matters. "This one does what they can for others to help prevent such a thing."

The question makes the silverscale's head quirk to the side. "... no? This one has not. They thought they were Dragoon, whatever that means in their way. This one thought it meant dancer of some kind?"

The Warrior looks to Schara while Malefic falls silent. "Malefic can also teleport. It is helpful when fighting or carrying them. But they can get into some... interesting places. Much to this one's annoyance They are a powerful weapon."

Malefic grins.

Harkashan shakes his head. "No, it's not the Dancing." He answers Schara, quieting a bit. Wondering for a moment if this is something he should share. But, then he remembers that in a ways, Aelwyn has made it clear before. He just never understood it.

Skielstrager touches on it. "Yes. That." Harkashan remarks. "I never understood what it means. I... assume it's something from the great Sands. But it would appear that he desires to become a Rider." He explains. "To be specific, a Dragonrider. So I am going to see if the Quickclaws on the Great Plains will teach him a bit, while we traverse northwards." He explains.

"Nothing is perfect, but at least you can make the best of things, at the very least." Schara sighs. "I don't wish to pry into things going on with Zeke, we aren't on the best of terms and I'm doing my best to respect his privacy." They continue before stopping abruptly. "Teleportation, as well? A powerful weapon seems an understatement, to me. Why not leave Malefic out in the sun if they can return to easily?"

"Right, a dragoon, that was the other thing that he would call himself." She considers. "Dragons are rare, and probably wouldn't appreciate that though, so how does he wish to do something like that?" They wonder.

Skiel answers Schara briefly. "It only works so far from this one. And they do not like to be without Malefic for long. They also... drag this one around to go see the sun. We have come to a compromise on their sun basking."

Skielstregar's scaled brows shoot up as high as they can go. "Dragonrid- Wryms above, that is... is certainly an upmost lofty goal."

Malefic quips, evenly. "He has a long way to go to do that..."

"Still," he glances to the basking weapon before shaking his head. "That is a lofty goal. But, no less, it is distinctly Aelwyn. And this one wishes him best in these endeavors," he rumbles warmly. "Thank you for setting him up to get on such a noble path. The Swiftclaws will teach him much about that."

He glances to Schara. "One can dream. And strive to attain such a dream."

"I'm not sure how he's going to manage that with a Dragon. But a Drake may be a bit more in his zone of possibility on the short term." Harkashan answers. "Sith-makar live a long life... and I am not going to dash his dreams. Who knows - he might just manage it." He remarks.

He then slowly stands up. "He's got a ways to go. Anyhow, I am going to head out and figure where Rune has gone off to. Make sure she's not wandered near the jungles. Thank you for coming, Skielstregar." He notes.

"I'll see you both again soon." He then notes, before wandering off.

-End Scene-