Nearer the Light

The gardens, as they always do in winter, offer warm respite from the cold weather which dominates everywhere else. It is no surprise then, that it attracts many. Some are poor with nowhere else to spend the night, some are simply seeking the peace of the gardens. The blue-scaled sith-makar who wanders through the gardens at the moment is one of the later, though partially here due to the former. He carries a pile of blankets in his arms, and is looking amidst the various foliage for any who might be in need of them.

Where did it go? It was leaning right there against the tree!

Quietly panicking at the base of a tree, bereft of their usual armor and armory, is a towering, shiny silverscale. He's up on his tip toes, head in the branches as he's carefully pushing leaves and twigs out of the way. "... where isss... how did...?"

It's at that moment, a little distance away from both makari, a white raven swoops down from the sky and lands in the garden. He's holding... an entire sweetroll in his beak, dripping with fresh glaze. He sets it down gently on the ground and begins to eat it.

"Pothy, are you enjoying your sweetroll, too?" Cor'lana asks as she walks behind Pothy. She's holding a box of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, but she holds it in a way that suggests she's not here merely to stuff Pothy's beak as she looks around. "I need to find someone to give this to."

As one of the latter group, Aya walks into and through the gardens seeking peace in the general calm of the scenery. That it is not covered in snow and warmer than the rest surely does not hurt, either. She may have passed a less fortunate curled up under the boughs of a tree seeking only respite from the cold, but she is not carrying supplies. The swooping white corvid catches her notice and draws her thoughts from the foliage to others walking through the gardens, and her steps follow.

Meanwhile, the other half of the Lupecyll-Atlons is making his way into the gardens from the other side, looking faintly nonplussed. He rubs his chin, his broad-brimmed hat firmly on his head and his heavy coat folded around him, though with the gardens far less cold and unpleasant than outside, he feels comfortable enough to stop burrowing into his garments.

His eyes flick up, though, seeing the familiar white bird soar overhead, and his lips quirk in a grin. But as he's walking towards where he saw Pothy land, he pauses, catching sight of -- is that? Yes, that's Skielstregar, trying to rummage in a ... tree? Swiftly, the half-elf approaches the larger makari. "Skiel, it's been a while... what're you looking for?"

What reason did Schara have to be in the middle of the garden district?

Simple, gardeners knew a lot about plants. Shocking, it's true. But it was as good a reason as any for an elf with a bright purple scarf wrapped around their head, and a wool hat with imagines of festive cakes on their head, as the wandered around the gardens with a jar filled with liquid and what looked like a purple chunk of fungus floating in it hanging from a cord in one of their hands.

Said wandering took them near enough to see commotion at one of the trees. "Is everything alright, or do you have a job as an arborist here? It would make sense given your height, after all." They inquire quietly. "Oh, and hello mister Telamon, and, this is Ravenstonue, am I right?"

The blue-scaled sith notices Skielstregar firstly, partially because of his size, and partially because of scent. Walking toward the other male, Zeke notices that there is another inbound. One that he does not recognize and is not familiar with. This being Telamon who identifies Skeilstregar for Zeke. The new appearance - and subtle shift in scent - of the other sith-makar is a shock to Zeke, but the blue-scale hums low in his throat a half-greeting half-agreement with Telamon. "Peasssce on your nessst Skielstregar. Do you require aid?"

At which point another approaches, and cuts in asking about arborists of all things and Zeke recognizes her instantly; a disapproving expression rushes across his green eyes.

Someone's calling his name? Skiel jerks, standing upright abruptly. Which makes his thick noggin >thud!< against a branch. "Gah...!" Rubbing his head, the towering silverscale crouches down to pop out of the tree, a twig caught on his head. Blink. "Ah. Sssshaman Telamon. Peassse. Erm... it isss... embarrassing to sssay, but thisss one's weapon hasss... vanished. They set it down briefly for naught but a moment, but then they..." A sigh leaves him. "It likesss to do thisss sssometimesss."

Last they met, Skielstregar radiated something foul. But now it was amiable. His admittance has him focused so much so that he didn't spy Zeke just yet. Until- A hand curls around his Dragonfather amulet. "S-Sshaman Zeke," he stammers. "Peassse on your nessst and the Father'sss light warm you. Erm. Thisss one is looking for a sssilver halberd. It... likesss get into high placesss." His face frosts. He's dying inside.

The unknown figure that Zeke cuts a glare too isn't helping things.

"Are you spoiling him, as ever?" Aya inquires of Ravenstongue as she nears. "If not enough to his liking, I do have a few snacks." Yes, she said the word. Before she can expound on that, though, her head pans to the growing gathering around the tree. The bluescale is most conspicuous of scales by color, and most familiar.

Pothy... looks up at Aya as she approaches. "Snacks!" he declares, and lifts his head and points it in the direction of Cor'lana, still holding a box of various loaves of bread. It's true; those are indeed snacks (or could be snacks if you're more of a 'a loaf of bread is a meal, a slice of bread is a snack' sort of person). He's trying to be helpful to Cor'lana's mission... But he also won't say no to snacks offered to him.

"Your weapon's vanished?" Cor'lana asks of Skielstregar, approaching him. "I wish I could say I've seen it, but--"

Then her eyes narrow. "Wait, your weapon's /vanished/? As in, it... Grew legs and walked, not that it's been taken by someone?" she asks, clearly thinking about what's been said. "Are you certain that's the case?"

She thinks about this a moment longer before quietly looking over to Zeke and nodding in recognition, although the strange figure asking Skielstregar if he's an arborist gets a nod, too. "I go by Cor'lana, but yes, I am also known as Ravenstongue," she replies, before turning her attention back to the matter of the missing weapon.

Telamon blinks as Skiel bumps his head. "Careful!" He lightly places a hand on Skiel's arm, looking up -- way up -- at the makari. "Your weapon... vanished. Of its own volition." His eyebrow climbs upward steadily, but he's wise enough to not laugh. He's seen weirder things. "Well... how far can it go? I mean, it's a halberd, not a rabbit..."

He pauses as Schara intervenes, and he blinks. "Uh... no, he's not an arborist. I think you want the ones in the green-on-green robes. And... oh, yes, is my wife here? I knew she was out bringing bread, but--" He breaks off as he sees Lana finally, and his face lights up in a smile. "And there she is!" Swiftly, Tel moves over to stand with Ravenstongue, putting an arm around her.

"Oh, your weapon is missing? How do you think it got lost high up then? Is it capable of floating or something similar?" The elf asks, glancing to Zeke, blinking, and looking back up the tree. "Well, that's not good, so if you need some help, I could offer some in that case."

They look at Pothy, tilt their head, then shove a flat hand into one of their coat pockets. "Would you be willing to help, Pothy, is it? I have some bread and some hard cheese, you can have some now, and some afterwards once we find it, if you agree?" They offer.

Zeke nods low and politely to Skielstregar. "Peasssce of the Dragonfather on you asss well." He rumbles in response to the other male. "Thisss one doesss not ssee sssuch a weapon, but will aid in the ssearch for it yess? It mussst be sssome weapon if it can move on itsss own."

He nods again and glances toward Telamon, belatedly recognizing the man. He nods politely to him as well, offering the sage greeting of the sith-makar to him. And to everyone else who has so quickly gathered around the silver-scale. "Peasssce on all your nesstsss." An extra lingering look is given to Aya, whom he has some history with before he casually peers up the tree that Skiel had been searching.

Aya retrieves a morsel or three from a pouch to offer up in lifted palm for Pothy's perusal; bits of dried fruits and nuts. She does not halt her steps, however, and most of her focus is upon the others as she steps to them. "Peace on your nest, Zeke," she offers in return before finally catching on to the conundrum at hand. "A wayward weapon?" Her eyes then also lift to the tree of interest before glancing about it.

Skielstregar, caught between three elves (two plus two one halves)- wait, was that a mul'neissa? He's standing rigid, tail scraping against the ground. And not to mention; Shaman Zeke is here! To kin: he's beyond embarrassed, and a tinge unsettled. Further evidenced by little icicles slowly growing on his maw.

"Erm. Yesss. Malefic movesss on their own," he answers broadly. "Thisss one triesss to not let it out of sssight, but it will do sssuch a thing on occasion."

He does not hide the step back away from Aya on her approach.

While most gather their attention on the tree, those looking can notice a metallic gleam across the pathway. Up high. Caught in the nook of a gazebo's roof. A silver polearm with glimmering runes basking in the sunlight.

Cor'lana smiles widely as Telamon puts an arm around her, and she plants a kiss on his cheek. "Hi, Tel," she says. "I've been trying to find people to give all of this bread I won at the poetry contest, but it looks like I got caught up in this... weapon-finding effort, too." She doesn't notice the glittering polearm straight-away, too distracted by her husband's presence.

Pothy... looks between Aya, and the strange elf. Aya is offering snacks /now/. The strange elf is also offering snacks now... But if Pothy helps, he gets more snacks...

"HELP," Pothy declares, which gets Cor'lana's attention. The sorceress breaks away from Telamon's embrace.

"Pothy, are you..." Cor'lana just looks at Pothy for a moment as he stands over the remains of his sweetroll. "You can't just scream for help because you've gotten to the bottom of your sweetroll. We've talked about this."

Telamon recognizes Aya, and admittedly he can't help but feel a little nervous. After all... he still remembers the battle to free her. When that springs to mind, though, he relaxes again, and smiles at Lana. "So you mentioned. It's good to share with those less fortunate." At Schara's entreaties, he can't help but offer a grin. "Well, Pothy does like shiny things almost as much as he likes snacks, so this might work."

He offers Zeke a bow, now taking note of the other makari. "Ah, now I remember you, sir. Seldan and Kira and a bit of unpleasantness at the docks. Good to see you again!"

At Pothy's plea for help, Tel snorts. "You got yourself into this, Pothy. Guess you'll have to choose!"

"Oh, I guess what Aya has is more appealing at the moment. That makes sense, the bread isn't particularly fresh in the first place." Schara shrugs. "They like food more."

The elf in question looks to Zeke, looking at their limbs for a moment, and looking back around to try and find the weapon. "Well, something shiny was left on top of that building over there, I'm not particularly good at climbing, but I could take a look?" They suggest, already wandering over in that direction.

Noting Skiel's discomfort, Zeke gives him a little space. Of course, he doesn't know the source of that discomfort, but its the best he can do. He also gives a polite nod to Telamon, who like him had been stricken it seemed by recognition. "Yessss. Ssseldan isss thisss onesss kin."

He continues to look upwards, spotting the weapon at nearly the same time as Schara does. "Skeilstregar, it sssseemsss your weapon likess the light." Zeke hums with some amusement and points to the weapon in question. "Perhapsss it iss trying to get clossser to the Dragonfather yess?"

Skielstregar is simply embarrassed. A Warrior lost track of their weapon! Though, the unknown elf's heading makes him look over, and Zeke pointing it out makes Skiel blink. And the embarrassment cracks with a quiet rumble of a laugh in his chest. "Hah. Thisss one thinksss you speak wissely, Ssshaman Zeke," Skiel hums. He looks at the fellow male for a moment, then bows his head slightly. "It isss good to sssee you once more."

The shiny makari looks down at Pothy. "... thisss one isss unsure if you can get it down. But you can certainly try. For the sssnacks."

Skiel ambles towards the gazebo, holding his arms up in preparation to catch it. "Pothy, thisss one thinksss you can nudge it and Malefic ssshould ssslide down?"

"Closer to the Dragonfather indeed," Cor'lana remarks, and she smirks a little as she looks down at Pothy. "So... What's it going to be, Pothy? Fly up there and get the weapon? Get the snacks? The glor--"

"SNACKS!" Pothy cries out, taking flight on pale wings as he soars up into the air. Faster than anything, anyone, anybird has ever gone! Racing for the polearm and defying the odds! Who will win?! One intelligent weapon or one white raven--

• Bonk*. Pothy didn't think this through in his snack-frenzy. He collides with the polearm.

Telamon glances at Lana. "I know he's a familiar, but can he actually move that thing? It's not exactly a dagger or a sweetroll--" And then Pothy is piling into the air, and Tel kind of shrugs. "Well, guess we're about to find out..."

Bonk.

"Ooooh. Rough landing there. Pothy, you all right?" Telamon calls to the probably-mildly-concussed raven. "Maybe I ought to fly up there and see if I can lend a hand."

Schara looks up and gets ready to find a place to climb up, but they barely manage to stretch out and grab a handhold before they stop and clutch their stomach instead, the jarred object set down next to them. They wince when the ravenous raven has no luck, either. "Well, I wasn't expecting that." They sigh. “Sorry, I don't think I'm going to be getting up there."

Zeke winces as Pothy rams into the weapon rather than landing gracefully on it. "Isss it alright?" He looks at Ravenstongue for a response to this particular question. "Thisss one can provide healing ssshould your companion require it." His eyes flicker toward Schara and he blinks at her. "Are you alright?"

Aya watches as Pothy zooms off for, well, snacks. She knows him well enough for that; also well enough that she visibly winces at the impact. "I have snacks here," she calls up to remind. Not to deter from the mission at hand, but mayhap to tend bruised egos. Or bird-noggins.

"It'sss okay, thisss one can climb it if need be. Pleassse don't injure yousseslf. Thisss one just needsss to-" Skiel is expecting Pothy to fly on over, give it a nudge with a beak, and call it a day as it slides down.

What he was /not/ expecting, was a fastball of a white blur smashing into the weapon. Malefic- the silvery halberd with runes on the axe head- slides up the sloped part of the gazebo's roof from the impact. Stops at the apex. Then tumbles downward at a rapid, alarming pace. It ramps off. Glints in the air.

"S-Ssstand back, thiss one hass it-!" Skiel warns, walking backwards as he tries to spy the weapon against the sun with his arms outstretched. He's squinting hard.

Malefic slips past his arms and smashes flat-side against his face. Both tumble to the ground in a crash and clatter.

Skiel groans from the floor. "... thisss one appreciatesss the help..." It's supplemented with a thumbs up.

Pothy sort of... woozily flaps his wings in place for a moment, which is rather reminiscent of a chicken trying to fly, and eventually he floats down to Zeke.

"Help me," he says to Zeke in the anguished voice of an actor from a Theatre District stage--and then he perks up when Aya offers snacks. "SNACKS." He flaps over just fine to Aya's shoulder to claim his prize.

"Pothy's fine," Cor'lana says, but she looks gravely concerned for Skielstregar. "I'm... not so sure about Skiel, though. Hey, you okay there?"

Telamon walks over to check on Skiel who's lying down. "You all right, Skiel?" He gives the halberd a dirty look. "That was... strange. I swear it tried to slide down and hit you in the face like that. Has it always... um... done that?"

The slim half-sil looks over Skiel's sprawled form, then looks around. "Um. I don't think there's any way I can help him get up. A weightlifter I am definitely not."

"I know a falling knife has no handle, and a polearm has a really long handle, but it probably doesn't have one when falling, either." The elf sighs. "I'm alright, it was just a localized tissue degradation from a mushroom creature, exposed a lot of muscle and other tissue, and I'm still a bit weak from it, but it's really not that bad, and I think that, the silver sith-makari there probably needs help more at the moment. There's enough of us to lift a single weapon out of the way, at least, but maybe I shouldn't try to do that, either."

With uncertainty holding sway, Zeke steps forward. He offers his flesh-and-blood hand to Skeilstregar; to help the other to his feet. "Do you require healing?" He hadn't liked the way that the weapon had fallen on Skeil, but on the other hand... there was no immediate sign of blood. Zeke also notes more privately to himself, that Pothy must indeed be fine if the corvid is already looking for snacks.

Skiel is stunned for a spell, a hand on his face. He shakes his head. "Thisss one iss fine. They posssesss the thick skull. It isss helpful ssssometimesss."

The weapon glimmers innocently. Skiel huffs at it. "It hitsss thisss one sssometimess. But only during-" A glance to Zeke. Then a knowing look to Cor'lana and Telamon. "-episodes."

He grabs the polearm, righting it so he can plop it into the ground and rise. But Zeke offers a hand. And the silverscale readily takes it by the forearm. Careful to not yank the Daeusite to the ground, he pulls himself up. "Thank you, Ssshaman Zeke," he rumbles. "Thisss one doesss not need sssuch healing. Like they sssaid-" He raps his knuckles against his head. >Thonk thonk thonk<. "-Thick skull."

A concerned glance is taken towards the unidentified elf. "Erm. Perhapsss they need healing insssstead? Thossse are a lot of wordsss to explain pain. And that'sss usually a bad thing. Right?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Intimidate: (9)+20: 29

Cor'lana... has to take a moment, blinking a couple of times after Skielstregar gives the explanation. "It /hits/ you?" she asks of Skiel, and then... she delivers a violet-eyed glare at the weapon, her hands gripping the box of bread a little tighter.

"Okay, I don't care how intelligent of a weapon you are and how much you can move by yourself and whatnot--that's my /friend/ you're hitting. You better not hit him harder than he needs to snap out of his little rages, or /I'm/ going to be /very/ upset." It's a little ridiculous out of context, but Cor'lana means every single word she's telling the polearm.

Pothy just eats Aya's snacks as he watches this, apparently content to be a member of the peanut gallery.

Once Skiel is on his feet again, Telamon breathes a little easier. He offers Zeke a thankful smile, before his gaze moves to Lana. He... looks like he wants to intervene, but honestly...

Instead, he just heaves a sigh. "You'd think it'd have a better way of clearing your head than -hitting- you," Tel remarks with a sour expression. "I'm kinda with Lana on this one." He moves over to stand with Cor'lana again, giving the halberd a sharp stare.

Following Skiel's comments on Schara's wordy explanation, he opens his mouth, then pauses. "...Well, Skiel, sometimes it helps to try and... explain it, so you don't feel like it's overwhelming you."

"Oh, I'm glad you are alright Skielstregar." Schara smiles for a moment. "But I still stand by what I said. You shouldn't try to catch a falling blade. And a magic sword can withstand a drop like that with no damage whatsoever. But it already happened, but is a consideration for the future."

The elf waves off any concern with a flat hand and awkward gesture. "I am fine, don't worry about it, I'd rather avoid any help f- if I can help it."

Zeke nods to Schara. He's not the sort to push healing onto anyone. Still something that Ravenstongue and Telamon says leaves him tilting his head at Skiel. "Ragesss?" He blinks at the silver-scale in confusion and curiosity. "Are you well Ssskeielssstregar? Thisss one isss ever willing to be of aid to you, ssshould you require it."

Skiel raises a scaled brow at Cor'lana. "Erm. Yesss. Sssometimes, but it isss quite just in doing-"

And then there's a barrage of threats at the weapon. Skiel blinks. Is that a little water in his eyes? His friends would defend him so vehemently so? Whatever it was, he blinks ice out of his eyes.

Malefic, however, stands there, held upright. Glimmering in the sun. Taking the insults like nothing mat...ters. It glimmer abates. The runes dull somewhat.

It rattles in his grasp angrily before turning away from the half-elf couple.

Skiel looks at Malefic dumbly. "... it... wouldn't ever seriously hurt thisss one..." he mentions to Schara. "It is jussst... hrm."

A look to Zeke. Then a sheepish gaze away. "... um. Thisss one isss well, Ssshaman Zeke. Erm. Perhapss such talksss be done in private? If you've time. You are busssy. But they will take sssuch aid if you offer."

A step away. ".. thisss one isss going to make sssure Malefic isss okay," he mentions, half to the group, half to the dulled weapon. "Peassse on your nessst, all of you. Thank you for finding them."

The silverscale ambles away, the weapon still pointedly not facing the group.

-End