RP: Campfire Chat

It's Tariday, Daeshen 27 17:26:30 1018. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and ebbing. A chilling rain falls as the grey sky darkens in the twilight. It's cold and wet. The wind blows from the east.

W03: The Deep Woods

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Ga'Elian is sitting in the twilit forest, stoking a roaring cooking fire near the bank of a rushing creek. Behind him is all his stuff, piled neatly. He wears nothing in this chilly rain except a pair of soft leather trousers and a few odd accoutrements. The griffon Erithamiel is darting in and out of the creek nearby, like a kitten playing with a ferocious ball of yarn. The sylvanori is singing to himself in Sildanyari, and the song is exciting and liberally peppered with animal calls.

GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Sing: (12)+4: 16

Whether due to the sounds of song, light of the fire, and/or scents of items cooked over it, Un'eth has become aware of the camp. She emerges from the trees into the fire side of the streambank, curious more than wary; the noise and light suggest one who is not attempting to hide their presence.

The song seems to have drawn another. Someone who recognizes the words and had been drifting not too far off. Staying close to the trees for some of the protection from the rains that the winds are trying to bring in. But a thick enough canopy does wonders for keeping most of it away. Astraea walks alongside Thistle, one hand on the griffon's shoulder. They come around a large trunk and the griffon is soon heading towards the water. Curious, perhaps, what has the other's attention so thoroughly. The half-sil, however, just sort of wanders in to stand at the edges of the firelight. Awkwardly, perhaps.

Ga'Elian looks up from the fire and breaks off his song, as he smiles at those who have approached. To the sith'makar, he bows in a manner at once familiar and respectful, and says, "Peace on your nest, Shaman Un'eth. You are most welcome to my fire. May it bring you some comfort on this cold evening." Then to the half-sila, he says, "And you, too, Astraea. Have you two met previously? Come sit, there is fresh venison, enough and to spare." The ranger's back is utterly covered in a tattoo, crisply depicting the Ygdrassil Tree, the Great Stag, and the White Disc. <sildanyari>

Un'eth dips her snout. "Peace on your nest, Hunter." Head and eyes then pan to the other that arrives, "And on yours." Perhaps out of courtesy, her response is also in sildanyari.

There is a look towards the named shaman. Astraea simply offers a nod towards the sith-makar. "We have not met previously, no." She speaks the language as one born to it. More smoothly than her command of Tradespeak. A half-sil raised amongst her fairer half, perhaps. And barely into her age of majority, at that. Older than a human would be, but much younger than a full elf. As she moves in nearer to the fire, she pulls back her hood and offers a nod towards the shaman. There is a glance spared for Thistle, but the griffon is wholly involved at play by the water. "Thank you," the younger one offers as her pale gaze returns and she finds a place by the fire to take a seat.

Ga'Elian looks over at the frolicking griffons and says, "Yeah, buddy! You get that... uh, whatever it is." He smirks, then takes a strip of meat from off the fire and lets it cool a moment in the chilly air before he rips a chunk out of it with his own teeth, as if he were feral himself. He then says, "That was an awesome fight over in Rune earlier, wasn't it?"

"We have not," Uneth confirms and turns more fully towards the female sil. "I am Un'eth, of the Tarranik Clan, Shaman of The People and Warder of Ea."

"Thistle doesn't see others often," Astraea notes in a soft voice, after exchanging introductions with Un'eth. Her own is much more succinct. Her name, really. Little more. No titles. No clans or similar. The half-sil draws her cloak around her, looking into the fire. The query from the ranger draws up her attention and she tilts her head slightly. "I believe we were fortunate, yes."

Ga'Elian says, "I was just getting warmed up when that magic shield popped back up. I figured I'd let Erithamiel tear into that giant's neck... I get into way more fights than he does, well, unless you count hunting for fresh meat, that is. Lately, I've had to leave him to his own devices more often as I've been in the tunnels and caverns they've just discovered under Alexandria. But, I'm a fiend-hunter, and most demons come from the depths. Anyway, there isn't much space underground for a griffon to stretch his wings." He eats some more of the meat.

"Underground? No, there is not." Astraea looks to the meat still in the flames, or near enough. It was offered previously. She finally leans forward to gingerly take some for herself. "Thistle is young, yet." As is she. Thirty may be well an adult for a human, but for a half-sil? She's young, herself. The meat is picked at carefully to pull off bits that aren't too hot. "I know little of the war. And I fear it may distract me from my purpose."

The half-sil lifts her free hand, tucking back some errant strands of hair behind an ear. Most of it is contained in a braid, but some has pulled free. Perhaps from the time beneath the hood. "Finding my father," Astraea speaks quietly, looking to the fire again. "He went missing."

Ga'Elian says, "Ah. One of my best friends in the City has a similar quest. How long has he been missing?"

"He did not report in as scheduled. We gave him another month..." Astraea seems a touch uncomfortable, but she doesn't look away or stop speaking. Well, she continues to look into the fire. Not one, it'd seem, for staring at the people she's speaking with. "My leads so far have brought me here."

Ga'Elian stretches his arms and stands up. "Well, I'm happy to help if you'd like. I'd just need something to go on." Changing subject, he says, "So, you're a hunter AND a druid, then? Did you know that there is a grove not far from here that has been sanctified by the druids of the Ygdrassil Union?"

Un'eth tilts her head. "Shamans and warders are always welcome. In this time, Ea can benefit from many protectors. The Ygrassil Union is but one collection."

"I am, yes," Astraea offers simply. She's settled by the fire with the others, cloak wrapped about her against the chilling winds. Picking at bits of meat, she glances up to Ga'Elian, considering. "Once I have a lead, perhaps-" but there is a pause, looking from the elf to the sith-makar. "I... have considered what the Union may have to offer and me to it in turn, but I am not sure I should allow myself the distraction."

Ga'Elian stands and pats the natural debris from off the seat of his trousers. He says, "Youre both welcome to enjoy the fire and the food, but I think I need to go spend a little quality time with Erithamiel. It was good to see you both, and I'm sure you'll have much to discuss."

The sound of metal clanking can be heard as someone seems to be attempting to traverse the rather thick underbrush of the deep forest. "Blast..." A female voice says in SIldanyari. "there's a reason why I wasn't a druid. This is probably why." She says as she tries not to disturb too many things....but she still snaps a branch on the ground. "Oh dear...."

  interruption in the log

"Astraea," the half-sil offers. Nothing else. Just the name. She shifts a bit, pulling her cloak in closer around her. She looks across the fire to where her griffon is by the water. There's a small sigh and she shakes her head. "Going to smell like wet fur all night."

Sorscha looks over towards the griffon. "At least he's taking a bath. Can you imagine if he didn't?" The rumble gets louder....and those paying attention can see movement...behind Sorscha. Finally, the form can be seen in the light....it's a tiger....perhaps a cub.

Ga'Elian returns to the creek where Thistle is splashing still, and dismounts from Erithamiel. He pats his companion and then pats Thistle as well and tells the creatures, "Have fun, you two." Then returns to the campfire. Seeing that Un'eth and Astraea have been joined by another, he says, "Heya, Sorscha. How have you been? You've got a new friend there?" He is generally cheerful.