Nothing But A Stain

Log Info

• Title: Nothing But A Stain

• Characters: Rune, Skielstregar

• Place: Am'shere - Akochilistli Kuauhtla

• Summary: Rune informs Skielstregar of the danger from the Charneth, with dramatic results ending in an oath between the pair.

Akochilstli Kuauhtla, Late Morning

The sun lazily shines through a break in low hanging clouds above, the air heavier, the threat of rain a standing one. Most softskins may consider this a boon, as it would wash away- or at the very least, abate- the stuffy heat. But anyone from Am'shere knows this only exacerbates the issue.

One that a large, hulking silverscale seems to be trying to make come true. He's with a group of shamans, him having seemingly integrated himself further into the ways of home as he was dressed down in nothing more than a tunic and pants. Painted along his face and arms is draconic runes emblazoned in gold paint, each expressing the sun and warmth. And strapped to the end of his tail is a set of maracas.

He is in a rain dance circle, absolutely enjoying himself as each flick of the tail goes in beat with the lead shaman's chanting.

GAME: Rune rolls perform/dance: (15)+6: 21

Where the group of Shaman gathers, there is another individual who doesn't quite blend in. Rune may not be Makari, but she has ingratiated herself into their culture over the years enough to be able to participate in certain customs and rituals.

She is dressed down to a simple set of clothing, including a wrap across the chest and shoulders and a loincloth. The ends of the wrap hang over her shoulders and move behind her, the tips dyed blue. Similar painted markings are written across her cheek, belly, and untattooed shoulder and simple bead jewelry has been added to give sound as she dances. Perhaps more interestingly, the half-sil also seems to have a series of dusky gray scales across her hands, forearms and clinging to the edges of her cheeks.

The half-sil steps into the circle of dancing lizards and joins in seamlessly, her movements sinuous and graceful. It's not /quite/ the same, but it follows the right steps and the but there are extra movements here and there so that the jewelry makes the same sound as those maracas.

Skielstregar is happily dancing along. He isn't a talented dancer by any means. Heck, he's mostly stomping around and clapping. Graceful? No, absolutely not. But intent? Absolutely. Bring on the rain!

During his happy dancings and going alongs, he notices a friend amongst the kin that participate. Well, it's hard not to, a softskin stands out like a sore thumb. He gives a carefree wave to her as he continues on.

It's a sporadic thing, the ritual. One that just occurs when the energy is there. And in the middle of a set of claps, a rolling growl across the sky echoes bassily. A few spatterings of water splashing against the ziggurat and the dirt. A collective cheer erupts from the circle!

And, well, a decent number quickly break free to prepare for the rain! Shamans continue the dance, but Skielstregar ducks free, muttering something about 'covering the timber'. He stops by Rune. "Peace on your nest!" he greets warmly, speaking in his native tongue. "This one is glad to see you in our rituals! You even found some scales to put on!" he hums warmly, thumping his tail against the ground.

GAME: Rune rolls bluff: (10)+11: 21

As the rain begins to fall, Rune tilts her head back and seems to just enjoy the feeling of it against her skin. It's enough to slick her dyed hair back slightly, causing the simple clothing to cling a bit tighter against her form. Running a hand through her hair, she gives a laugh and a woot of approval before falling back with those who are already retreating to other tasks.

That is where the half-sil ends up close to Skielstregar, turning to offer him a bright smile that seems to falter almost immediately. It's as if she had been so caught up in the ritual that she hadn't noticed him and now... well, something is obviously on her mind and the sight of the silver-scaled Makari had brought it back to the forefront.

"Peace on your nest, Skielstregar." She replies in the hisses and clicks of the Makari tongue. Despite her years of training, there is still a slight 'accent' when she speaks, likely caused by simply not having the same vocal capabilities as the Sith Makar. "Oh, these?" She motions at the dusky scales, "Must have hung around the kin too long and I seem to have developed a few side effects." There's some humor to it.

"Can we go somewhere to talk?" This comes out of nowhere, even as the rain still pelts down on her head and clings her hair about her face. "There's... some things you need to know."

GAME: Skielstregar rolls sense motive: (16)+2: 18

Skielstregar beams back, tail swaying slowly from side to side. Shaka-shaka shaka-shaka, goes the maracas. The falter makes his head tilt, but his gaze nictates at the scales. "... buh? Wuh... this one..." he scratches his head, looking a /touch/ worried. "This one said the bone broth would make scales grow is just a joke! They promise! Um. Um. At-at least the color looks nice?" he waffles, taking blame for it.

The request to speak alone is met with him calming down slightly, the rain plopping against his scales and freezing. Making some of the gold paint run. He absentmindedly scrapes a talon across his arm, dislodging some of the ice. "Erm. Sssa. We can. Is this about the lack of firewood? This one apologizes! Am'shere trees need to be dried first, they'll have some in two days!"

The confused look on the silver-scale's face is priceless, but Rune is not so cruel as to drag out the joke longer than is necessary. Instead, she offers him a smile and a soft laugh before shaking her head. Her hair doesn't even move, it's so plastered to her features. The paint on her own skin has started to trail off in rivulets, causing her to swipe at a patch on her cheek.

"I'm teasing you. It's just a bit of protective magic, courtosy of Alaryn." Rune reaches up to touch an amulet that seems to have those matching dusky scales. When she touches it, the magic seems to retreat, as do the scales. "Needed to make sure I had a bit better defenses after what happened against those ghost-hunting monsters."

The fact that Skielstregar can turn warm rain into ice is not lost on Rune. That sight seems to return that worried look to her features as she motions towards one of the outbuildings of the village, usually used for storage but largely empty for the time being. "It's not about firewood, no." There is a pause that could be taken for reluctance, but it seems more that she's thinking. "Did we tell you that a hatchling from this village was nearly taken by the Charneth not long ago? That a group of us managed to rescue them just in time before they could be kidnapped?"

Skielstregar blinks as the scales recede. Him mirroring the movement to his holy symbol and tapping it once. Nothing happens. "...oh!" he says in surprise, the worry morphing to embarrassment, such a thing clearly seen as ice forms on his cheeks. "This one sees. Very funny!" he laughs. At least he's a good sport about it.

He looks off towards the gestured outbuildings, him nodding and slowly ambling his way in that direction. "Ssa. Others told this one you all saved a hatchling from the Charneth. That is very good!" he hums warmly in approval, tail thumping against the ground. His wake leaving spots of gold paint. "Is the hatchling okay? Does this one need to get anything for them? This one is not allowed into nesting grounds, but can happily provide!" he smiles. Tail swaying. Shaka-shaka shaka-shaka.

The moment of humor can't eclipse the shadow in Rune's eyes as she steps beneath the cover of the building, running a hand through her hair once they are out of the rain. "That's... what I'm not sure about." She replies with some hesitation.

Leaning against the stone wall, the rogue lets out a sigh and looks to her friend, knowing very well that this cuts far too close to his own wounds. "The kidnapper was set to the pyre last night, but before that... we were able to ask him a few questions." Nothing good can come of where that is going, but Rune had steeled herself to be honest with him about it.

"The Charneth have some sort of new project... he called it Project Forgotten Blood." Concern shows in her eyes as she looks up to the silver-scaled Makari. "They're looking for an alternative way to create Forgotten. They may have targeted the hatchling because they saw him as weak and vulnerable." She rubs at her arm in a nervous gesture, "The little one was silver-scaled, like you."

Skielstregar's delighted humor wavers a bit at the hatchling's state. "... very well..." he murmurs. There's a huff, him slowly lowering himself to sit on his knees so that he was eye level with Rune. His eyes narrow. The happy rumbling noise in his chest slowing to a quiet roll. "... there was a pyre last night..." he looks off to the center building before focusing on whatever topic that Rune wanted to speak with him abou-

Dead eyes constrict to predatory slits. "They. /What/," he faintly growls. Hands on his knees curl into fists.

And /that/ is exactly why everyone involved knew that Skielstregar would react badly to this news. However, Rune isn't about to pull punches and not give information that would be important to someone who struggles the horrible things done to him by the Charneth. Despite the growl, despite the obvious predatory look, Rune simply accepts this as a normal response to a fucked up situation and continues.

"I wish we'd gotten more out of him, but the ritual just required him to answer, not necessarily with helpful answers. I swear, if I could kill the guy again, I would have." Wearing a dancer's outfit and without her weapons, the half-sil certainly doesn't look fearsome, but she is quite protective, both of her friends, and of young ones. "He said: 'They will be their own undoing'." Which has many interpretations.

"We tried to press for more, but he started ranting about how they will be dragons. That they will hunger and eat and eat and eat." Her brows furrow. "Normally I'm pretty good getting information out of assholes, but this cryptic bullshit is beyond me."

For all the jovial, kind, supportive energy that Skiel exudes, it is very much correct, that all that know of this silverscale's past, that he would react in this manner. And when Skielstregar gets angry, entire floors of buildings get destroyed.

But this? From his hair thin pupils, the iris fettering to a dull crimson hue. Hands balled up so tight that a faint trickle of red stains the earth. Tiny droplets of familiar black ink drip off from his elbows. This is far worse.

Skielstregar is seething.

"Dragon," he shudders in a half growl. His eyes close. Shoulders trembling. "... the Forgotten are that due to them forgetting themselves. Their draconic awakening overtaking their mind as they burn up from inside. But to... use a hatchling, to... use the blood..." he explains through a tight throat, hoping to cut through some of the cryptic answers.

He inhales. Deep. Holds it. And holds his holy symbol "... I will tell you the Charneth's process," he evenly states.

Rune should be afraid. She should be putting distance between herself and Skielstregar. The crimson in his eyes and the dangerous black ink that suggests something very bad could happen any minute. And yet, she stands there against the wall, watching with keen eyes. If fate has plans for her, then it wouldn't let her be struck down here. Sometimes, thoughts like that can make a person stupidly brave. Or just stupid.

"Deep breaths. It's not going to do anyone any good if you go nuts here and hurt people in the village. So bottle that anger, forge it into a weapon. Use it against those that deserve it." Rune folds her arms across her chest, her lips pressed tight together.

"We're getting a cleric to check over the hatchling and make sure no longering damage or disease was left on them. Same for the rest of us who have had contact with them." Clearly, there is some concern that something might have been left behind to fester, but Rune doesn't seem to believe that. "I doubt that will come to anything, but better safe than sorry."

And then, Skielstregar is offering to elaborate on the process of creating monsters. Rune lets out a breath that is barely a whistle between her lips. "Okay. Tell me what you can manage. If you can't... that's okay, too. We're going to figure this out."

Skielstregar's anger tends to be a tool to use. Something to pick up and put down. A spark for kindling, if the other side of him was the kindling. But at present, this is the rare inverse. A lot of fire close to a lot of kindling.

But he has promised, time and time again, despite how outwardly it appears, he is under control. And such advice is taken as he exhales slowly, letting out a frozen air laced with black miasma. "The Dragonfather's light is warm and compassionate. And His wrath a holy searing ray." His eyes open, still tinged crimson, but they affix on Rune. "I will gladly bottle that anger to strike from His shadow to face searing justice."

He huffs. Hard. Still seething. But holding on to a certain amount of level headedness to at least hear everything out. "Good," his expression, ever so faintly, softens. "Better safe than sorry."

He bows his head, and slowly looks up to the sky, the rain starting in a drizzle. Skiel's throat bobs, working out the tightness to speak. "The Awakening is unique to every Kin. For it is in our very flesh and blood the memory of our ancestors. To... partake of the flesh of another, causes many mutations. Cravings. Desires. It is taboo. It is why we burn our dead. Not just to prevent disease, but to prevent this."

His head lowers to Rune, the rain making rivulets of gold and black to drip from similarly hued icicles on his jaw. "The Charneth learned how to make Forgotten. They capture. Put in cages. Starve us. Kill the weakest. Serve us them. Raw... raw kin." His throat bobs, nostrils flaring. "Every... everytime you partake. You feel this... unbridled hunger and rage. You have to squash it. Bash it down. Some can do this. I... I broke. I could not," he hisses, looking away, ashamed. "And the transformation happened."

There's a beat where he trembles. Hands moving to clutch his forearms where there were old bite scars. "After that, they ship you off in your cage. Deploy you as shock troops. The hunger never stops. You never stop craving. I deal... I deal with this every. Single. Day. I have gotten much better. But the process is irreversible. I am an outlier. I am still Forgotten."

He affords a moment to calm down. Still angry. But the trauma of the story seems to have shaken that. "... but the blood of kin. Straight blood. From a pure... pure being like a hatchling...? Or from a Forgotten? They... they are going straight for the most potent source. Our blood is powerful. If they are successful... those Forgotten kin are going to be /the most dangerous/ Forgotten to have walked Ea."

There is something heartening about a person who has a deep connection with their deity. It is something that Rune has lacked throughout her life, likely due to her father's indifference in regards to the gods. Even her connection to the Sky-singer is frought with uncertainty rather than some deep sense of support like so many others carry with them. Rune's hand lifts to her mother's necklace instead, fidgeting with the chain.

The half-sil is respectfully quiet, leaving only Skielstregar's voice and the music of the rain on stone as accompaniment. Some of this she knew already, some of it is more detailed than she had previously, and none of it is pleasant. The girl swallows, the look of someone trying to contain their own emotions and reaction to something horrific.

"What they did to you, what they are still doing to your people is an abomination." She clutches her own arms, blowing a bit of water from a lock of hair hanging in her face. "And I, for one, don't plan on letting them be successful. I assume we're in agreement on that." She raises a brow.

"We've got some leads, and I think you should be there with us if you think you can handle it. They were planning on delivering the hatchling to a place called Prion Prison. I think, if we ask some of the more experienced scouts and trackers, we might be able to get a guide to it." Rune explains, "It was supposed to have been burnt to the ground decades ago, but maybe the tales are wrong about that..."

Skielstregar, fuming, samples the air, and carefully dips his head towards Rune. "Your fear of this atrocity is understandable." He lets out an uneasy sigh, it sounding more like a growl of thunder. "We are in agreement."

Through his thinly veiled anger, a mote of something fleeting crosses his visage. "Prion Prison..." he murmurs. Talons scratch at his skull. "... this one's time as Forgotten tattered their memories. But... 'Mior Plathohol'... Mior Platholol. Means Blood Prison. Prion Prison reminds this one of that. This one cannot help more than that, their memories of home very tattered..."

"But."

Skielstregar suddenly rises. The anger in his visage folding into honed wrath. He holds a hand out to the side. From the camp, a miasmic blur rushes towards the pair before it collides into the open hand. A spray of ink splashing to the side as Malefic forms in his grasp with a metallic thud.

The haft of the weapon jams into the ground, and Skiel drives his knee down into the muddy dirt, kneeling before Rune. And he speaks. Firm. Growling. Tense. Determined.

"By the Dragonfather's will and my desire and duty to protect my Kin. I, Skielstregar, Warrior Caste, Shade of the Dragonfather and Defender of Alexandria, hereby take unto this charge to assist you and others to purge this blight upon our home. Until they are nothing more than a stain."

Malefic grins. "Until they are nothing more than a stain!"

He thumps weapon and tail twice.

Though Rune may be small, she does have the heart of a warrior. One enough to have earned her markings in those times when she wears them before the Makari. The growl of agreement is met with a stiff nod of her head as she seems to only just contain her own righteous anger.

"Same place." Rune looks to him with a worried expression in her eyes. "At least, that's what I remember from the stories and rumors I've heard over the years." The connection that Skielstregar has to the place is troubling, knowing full well that there is trauma returning to a place of such horrors. "That is where they were trying to take the Hatchling."

The sudden rising of the silver-scaled Makari has her blinking, a slight tensing of her muscles along with the sudden appearance of the familiar weapon.

And then he is kneeling and Rune's serious expression turns flustered and uncertain. She obviously has never had this kind of reaction around her to anything. "Uh..." A sworn oath is given and she just stands there with her hands raised slightly, looking absolutely baffled.

But the one thing she can definitely agree to is: "Until they are nothing more than a stain." She huffs.

There is a veritable tension in the air as Rune flounders. Skiel looking on with a serious, crimson tinged expression. Malefic grinning in their wicked manner. Both bob their head. Though in Malefic's case, they just tilt forward slightly.

Then. The awkward, serious, baffled, flustered, tense air feels like it breaks with the rolling thunder above. Coupled with a sharp bark of a laugh from none other than Skielstregar. He dips his head forward, all the way until his lightly butts against the raised hands. "Peace," he rumbles warmly, dead silver eyes returned, visage relaxed. "We have planning to do. This one does not know where it is. Perhaps this one never went there. But. Whatever may come, you can count on this one-"

"Ahem!"

"Us."