Rocky Mountain News

Svarshan looks over his shoulder for a moment, disgruntled. Then, continues down his path, one step after the other. Slow, though each step is almost a strike. A gesture of frustration as he goes. A Vardaman closes the door to the temple after the sith-makar's exit. The sun overhead has begun to set--its warm rays provide enough light for passers-by and walkers to make their way home. Overhead, the sky is blue and cloudless, with a cool wind against summer's heat.

Razen stands just barely to the side of the slender path, staring toward civilization with intense concentration that fades. Gray-green eyes shift to take in the sight of rust colored scales. Razen blinks, and then smiles slowly. Then begins to follow in the strangers wake with that half-grin on his lips.

A Goblin woman runs out of the Temple of Daeus, pulling her cloak closely about her as the night sets in, to guard against the cool wind blowing. She almost bumps into Svarshan, and excuses herself, slowing to wave lightly to him. "Sorry!", she says cheerfully. The Goblin grins. "Gosh, they seem to make all of you incredibly tall."

As the sun sets, and her duties about town end for the day, up the trail comes a slender blond human, clad in a somber black cassock. Her steps are far lighter than her dress would lead one to assume, however, and her gait sets the pistol hanging fron its sand-colored gun belt bouncing against her hip. As she nears, she smiles widely, lifting a hand in greeting. "Hello~! Oh..." Her smile falters, as she gets a better look at Svarshan's body language. "....Is something wrong, Sunblade?"

"I...peasse to you," the sith-makar responds. He sounds irritated, distracted as he glances back at the temple. But when he looks towards the small figure, the expression softens. "Peasse to you both. I am afraid...I am afraid I am working on ssomething disstassteful. One has not told your temple yet, officially, hunter," to Silmeria. He looks curiously towards the half-oruch, then. "Markss of the Warrior. Peasse to you as well."

Razen says, "..." The half-oruch's mouth opens then closes again, stopping rapidly to keep from running into the man he had been trailing after or the two women who had come up the trail and greeted the sith-makar. Being addressed only serves to make him look uncomfortable but he finally manages a few words rushed together. "Angoron strengthen you..." He glances only briefly toward the women and then back once more, flashing a warmer smile. "It's nice to meet you!""

Murder offers a bow to the Sith-makar, "Peace on you and your nest." Her ears raise up a little when Silmeria speaks, and the Goblin woman shuffles away a little, not wanting to intrude. She peers up at the half-Orc and grins. "They grew you very tall as well, didn't they?"

"And the Lady turn Her gaze from you," says the blond, bobbing a short curtsy. "It truly is good to meet the both of you."

Her eyes move to Svarshan, brow furrowing. "That sounds dire indeed... But I've distaste in kind to share, and I've not yet gone to Mictlan to see that it reaches concerned ears. Knowledge for knowledge, a fair trade?"

Svarshan, honor to the Empress and in sservice as warrior-caste," Svarshan returns warmly. The statement names his political affiliations to those knowledgeable of the sith-makar; that is, aligned with the Empress and her policies, and therefore with Alexandria and its kin.

"Mrmmm..." he says then. He looks to Silmeria more directly. "...ssa. Though perhapss, you firsst. Sshould I hand you thiss letter, I would esspect you to grow wings," he says with a hunter's humor.

Razen shifts his attention finally from the sith-makar that he'd been trailing finally to the goblin woman that had addressed him. In fact her words cause him to swell just a little, his smile widening to show nearly all of his teeth. "Angoron's strength to you as well..." There is a brief pause as he offers up his hand. "I am Razen."

Murder grins at the half-Orc. "Angoron's strength to you, too. I follow him and worry his ankles. I am Murder." She glances as the two others curiously. "Does this concern the demons, or the new closeness between Maugrim and Taara?", she asks of Silmeria and Svarshan. "Or the evil hiding in the cannon?"

An eyebrow twitches upward at the goblin's name, one corner of Silmeria's mouth curling up. "Silmeria," she says, "Speaker for the Dead. And no, none of those." Her good cheer seems to fade, as she looks back up at Svarshan. "Sunblade.... I've recently come back from Veyshan. There were rumors of dragon attacks... but they were in error. When we finally tracked the attackers down... it turned out to be a quartet of mages, transporting a Trygon."

She pauses there for a moment, to let the news sink into the Paladin's mind. "And we found a map detailing the route they were using to transport it. I'm sorry, Svarshan... but at least one Charnese noble house is up to no good in the wider world, and it concerns the People."

Svarshan sucks in his breath. Holds it, like a fuse between his teeth. "Whatever they do, we will end it," he says, low-voiced. "The People honor your wordss, hunter. I will take them to the sscaled, to casste and tribe." The tail thumps, the force hard against the earth. He falls silent after that, absorbing it. Taking it in like Silmeria must know he would, knows he must.

A hand reaches up to scratch at the jaw, and the dry scales underneath. "The canon, one doess not know of," he says at length, sounding distracted. Still absorbing.

Razen mouth's 'Murder' to himself, as obviously bemused by the name as the woman - Silmeria then spends a long moment staring at the sith-makar's ankles with blatant curiosity. None of it could last however, and in a moment the smile on his face fades, eyes darkening with seriousness. "Wait." He holds up a hand. "Did you say Trygon?"

Murder offers Silmeria a slight bow and nods. Her eyebrows raise up at the words Silmeria speaks. "Do trygon's fly? Could they bring an airship down? I went to help protect one such airship that Alexandria was attempting to recover, and we were told that a dragon brought it down. But with that revelation... perhaps it was not so." She looks to the half-Orc, who seems to know what it is. "What is a trygon?" The Goblin woman looks from Razen to Silmeria and then Svarshan, the four standing near the now-closed entrance to the Vardaman temple. Murder nods to Svarshan. "I was told that Alexandria was advised to destroy the weapon because it attracts the interest of the demons in Felwood. This by someone who watches over Felwood, to keep the demons in check." She shrugs. "Didn't go into detail, but apparently the corruption from Felwood is inside the city now, waiting."

By now, there is a robed figure walking up the pathway to the vardaman temple. The crunching of rocks is accompanied by the tamp of a staff after every third step.....and the robed figure is walking right towards Silmeria and the rest of the group.

Silmeria 's cheeks puff out, followed by a long, slow sigh. "That is, also, extremely concerning," she murmurs, then shakes her head. "Trygons are.... well. One thing that Charnese agree on, is that Sith-Makar are preferred as slaves." The last word, said with a disgusted tone. "And another thing they agree on, is that there is no such thing as taboo when it comes to developing more.... purpose-oriented.... soldiers. A Trygon is a Sith-Makar -- or more than one -- warped and twisted into the image of a dragon, with the breath of three elements in its belly." The Paladin gives Svarshan an apologetic look as she explains, but spreads her hands in a helpless shrug. "And I think we may have found a route they're taking to transport their newly-created thralls."

"...demons," the sith-makar repeats. He gives Murder a look that shows he's paying attention. Takes another, slow breath. "There iss much to talk about. Thiss--you will want to sspeak with Ssandy before sshe. Doess ssomething rash," he says, as he hands a piece of paper to Silmeria. The forearm shakes, the claws flex. They almost tear in to the paper as the hunter speaks.

"...goblin. Murder. My duty iss to my Empress. I will take the hunter'ss words to the sscaled. ...but if you need assistance with demons, one hass access. One hass access do essperts. People who sstudy them. Thiss I can offer you. But..." and he looks back to Silmeria then. His features harden.

Razen pales at the description of the Trygon, his complexion shifting to a discolored muddy tone. Even so he takes a breath and shifts subtly closer to the sith-makar. "Is it far? To take word to your... kin?"

"it sounds as if you had a very nasty struggle, Lady Silmeria." The robed figure says to them all. As it gets closer, Svarshan and maybe Silmeria would recognize Raethon as he gets closer....never parting with his staff. "And if you are telling Svarshan, I imagine it cannot be good."

Murder rubs at her chin then, and nods to Silmeria. "Are people going to disrupt that route? Or is this information so new, nothing has been organized for such a thing yet?" She nods at Razen and his skin colour shifting. "That's about how I feel too." Then she turns to Svarshan. "If you are going to your Empress, that means going back to Am'shere, yes? I will go and warn your people at Mictlan. It's the least I can do, since I am the least among us." She turns as if to go.

Kaydin had been wandering the city and thus came upon the scene before him. He looks to the various people, curiosity seen on his face. "Whats going on here?" He asks, his voice sounding still young despite his stature and appearance.

Silmeria gently extracts the paper from Svarshan's hand. "I will speak to Lady Sandiel," she says, resting her hand on Svarshan's arm. "And I will make certain she does nothing.... well. *More* rash than usual. Meet me at the Explorer's Guildhall when you've a moment after you've spent time with your cihuaa, and your children. Cold anger is better for plans than hot rage, yes?"

As Raethon approaches, Silmeria throws him a bright smile. "Master Raethon, good day. ...Though I'd not say it was nasty, so much as harrowing. And thoroughly upsetting. Also, Mistress Murder..." Silmeria pauses, coughing to hide a chuckle. "Svarshan is correct; there are few with better access than he to people and knowledge for facing demons. I'd very definitely recommend having him make you an introduction."

Svarshan opens his muzzle as though to reply. Then, a deeper breath. "Ssa. I will go with you, and sshare words, Murder. We will talk of demons, and let anger cool ssome before I return. ...and then I will ssee you at the Hall," he says to Silmeria, then. "We will sshare words, then. Also. ...it wass good to sshare words," he says to Razen, and Raethon. "Forgive me. Words. ...not my besst. ...talent."

Raethon gives SIlmeria a look. "You know I don't like being called 'master', Lady Silmeria. Upsetting, though? Perhaps you could explain again...for the ones that haven't heard it, yet." He then looks to Kaydin and begins to speak, but a much deeper voice comes from the staff first. "It seems we have another new whelp in Alexandria." And Raethon looks to his staff. 'Havok. We don't call people 'whelps', remember? They don't deserve that sort of derogatory term. At least until they've earned it." he then looks to Kaydin. "I apologize for my staff. He thinks too highly of himself at times. But it seems we're getting here at the same time you are."

Kaydin looks to the staff and then looks to the man holding it. "That's an interesting staff." Kaydin says as he walks over to look better at the staff. "I don't have anything that can talk." Kaydin says as he pulls his bow out and looks to it. "It doesn't say much, but it helps me shoot arrows." He says with a smile.

Razen steps back several steps as the staff speaks but regains the color that he had lost. He looks at the man who held it with a healthy measure caution, but says nothing.

"And until you provide me with a term of respect you prefer," Silmeria says to Raethon, smiling, "'Master' is the safest choice. And good evening to you, Havok, Master Kaydin. I was just telling Svarshan about a Charnese plot I and a few others stumbled into. I'm not certain as to what end, but they've been converting Sith-Makar slaves into creatures of war, and transporting them through Veyshan, slaughtering whole villages along the way. 'Harrowing' would indeed be the word I'd use to describe that fight, but the Lady was kind and turned Her face from me."

"Mmmm...If you insist, lady Silmeria. I do not feel I deserve that title though." Raethon then takes a deep breath and listens to her tale........"Trygons.......Quite possibly a very sick form of Necromancy specific to Sith-Makar." he then looks to Silmeria again. "I do not use Necromancy myself, and I dislike the practice, but I do research it to create Abjuration spells against it's use." He then turns to Kaydin. "He's useful at times, but can be annoying in others. Like when he calls others whelps." he glances back to Razen, but doesn't say anything. Almost like he heard him approach, but his attention is on Silmeria. "If you wish to go and seek them out again, let me know. I'll go with you."

Razen clearly feels sick listening to the explanation for a second time, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He wrestles with himself visibly before speaking. "Magic..." He sounds extremely uneasy.

"Magic is but another force in the world, Master Razen," Silmeria says gently. "It it a tool, one that can be used for good or ill. It is the same as power given by the gods, or worked into steel. Master Raethon knows this better than many, he's battled fell magics often enough himself."

"Magic is just a force....and a tool, Master Razen. I assume that's your name." Raethon turns more fully to him. "It is the wielder that decide how good or bad it is. It's just like a sword, or an axe. Does the axe chop firewood for winter, or does the axe cut through enemies to protect people in a city? or does it hew through bone and skin in a merciless bloodrage that cannot be sated? The axe does.....none of those things on it's own. It requires someone to wield the axe.....usually."

Razen shrugs. "True, but I can't say that I understand it." He offers a somewhat self-deprecating smile. "Say what you like, but..." He shuddered a little to himself. "Can you truly say that using living beings, sewing them up together into a thing of death is not terrible?"

"Oh certainly," Silmeria says. "But that's because it's a perversion of magic, something that any sane wielder would never consider. And believe me, Master Razen... There *will* be a reckoning headed their way."

Raethon says, "Something like that IS a terrible thing, Master Razen. And yes...there is a reckoning coming their way." He then looks to Silmeria and pats her on the shoulder. "If you need me, just let me know. I am not hard to find." he then begins to walk back down the path...."

Razen sighs a little, watching Raethon walk away. "May the gods bless those who so endeavor." He glances back toward Silmeria. "I meant no offense by my words. I always find it wise to treat any weapon I do not know with respect. And..." He looks just a touch embarrassed, shrugging a little and making a small motion with his hand. "What little I have seen of magic is a fearsome weapon indeed."

Silmeria chuckles, shaking her head. "No offense taken, Master Razen," she says. "That's simply wise thinking. But respect need not be fear, and it's *fear* of magic that may bring trouble. Besides," she says, grinning. "Best you get used to it now, given how many arcanists find themselves taking Explorer's Guild jobs."

Razen laughs as well, the sound of it deep and round. He offers her his hand, "He offered his aid and so do I. Whomever is doing such things needs to be stopped. One should never make slaves of others, and for such a dark purpose... Call upon me if there is anything I can do."

The offered hand is taken, and the blond smiles. "I shall be certain to, Master Razen. Again, it was good to meet you, but I'm afraid I've duties to attend to at the temple. Like as not we'll meet again!" And with another brief curtsy, Silmeria makes her way up the path to the foreboding Temple of Vardama, a song rising faintly in her wake.

o/~ Dig, dig, gravedigger! Dig, gravedigger, dig! Work that shovel with vigor, gravedigger, 'fore the rigor mortis sets in, dig~!

-End-