The Teacher and the Sith-makar

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          The path from the village eventually narrows somewhat, with the trees on either side becoming more populous. Moss hangs from large stones that sit surrounded by beds of leaves that has accumulated over the years.

          A few trails wander in varied directions though eventually even these woods will thicken. One particular trail carries with it the scent of natural brimstone...this trail wanders north and westward, where the trees grow thick once more. To the east, it's rumored that the druids have built a sacred site.

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 Svarshan        Demons: Another name for spicy BBQ                    0s   9h
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North to Mictlan <NM>     East <E>                  South <S>
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Svarshan is sitting near some old, roughed-up vegetation. He has a thoughtful look on his face. Patient, quiet. ...but there's that. There's that certain air that says he's looking to meet someone, as well.

Sarcis is walking along the path, the orc still was reasonably at home in the woods -- even if she left that part of her life behind. A reach up to touch lightly at her jacket for a brief interlude as she finds the vegetation. She probably would be reaching for a dagger next, if it wasn't for the Sith-makar looking at it. "Peace to your nest." She says, the voice lacking any Oruch accent except for a minor sh noise on the word peace. A crafted brow arches, and she looks back to the vegetation.

"Is it dead, living, or dead after coming alive?" A note or mirth.

Seeming somewhat out of place, a gnome wearing chainmail and a bright red cap wanders the trails into the area. Looking about a moment, he blinks with recognition at the sight of the oruch. He approaches to hearing distance, but doesn't come any closer, as yet.

"..." Svarshan looks up at the noise, too fast. He focuses on it, unblinking as a reptile is. As though...As though there might be some threat.

Breathe in. Slowly.

He lets it go, and stands. He isn't the towering seven feet of some of his kind. He does though, have some scars. "Ssa. Peasse to you. ...you ssent word through the Poi--" he starts to ask. Then he goes quiet again, his head tilted to the side. ...and then focuses, that same /Focus/, on the footsteps of the gnome. It doesn't seem aggressive, but it does seem watchful.

The Oruch glances back, reaching a free hand to sweep some of her hair behind the pointed ear. The hand continues up into a partial wave as she looks over the gnome. A sweep of the eyes, a short nod of recognition as well, before she turns back to the Sith-makar.

"Yes." She finally responds, "And I've heard that you too are looking for this Teacher." Though I should hardly be surprised, a curve of Sarcis' lips into a smile, "It sounds like he does operate on the other side of the portal quite frequently."

Seeing the Sith-Makar's gesture, knowing he's been spotted, the gnome simply raises one hand by way of greeting. Still he doesn't approach, however, as though not wishing to intrude on what might be a private conversation.

A space too long. A sense of quiet. A man on edge, is what this is. Not violence; this one's too scarred for that. Too thoughtful. "Ssa. ...I am Svarshan, Sservisse to Our Empress, and the Father Dragon. ...pleasse tell me of yoursself, sso that we may sshare words." Svarshan looks to the gnome then, a while. "Come sshare words, if you are together."

Offering a slight bow before approaching, the gnome steps forward, taking his hat off. "I.. don't know your ways, Sith-Makar. Please forgive me if I make any blunders." He glances towards Sarcis, "We're not together, as such, but we have fought together. Perhaps the same rumors have brought us here." He tilts his head to one side thoughtfully, "Father Dragon?" he queries.

The gnome has claws, copper in color, like those of a copper dragon.

"Ssa. You call him Daeuss." The sith-makar looks at the gnome, noting the copper glint. He pauses, and then seems to relax, some. Not wholly, but the broad shoulders ease, and the next words--while not easy, come /more/ easily. "...I would you had caught me at better timess, regretss. We had achieved Treaty, and the Teacher perhapss makess hiss move. If thiss iss what it iss. He hass been known in Am'sshere for ssome time. We thought him contained. Like a diseasse, perhapss," The sith-makar's muzzle twitches at that. He looks wry, regretful. "I do not think he likess uss making alliess. It goess againsst hiss message. ...but you musst sshare what you have sseen, sso I would know if it iss him. If it iss, it iss...it will be unfortunate," he says, looking to them both. "Not only for his danger, but alsso becausse ssoftsskin and sscaled do sso rarely undersstand one another. That will not help and will make. Any tassk dealing with him that much. Harder. I lived in Myrrdion for sseveral years," he adds. His words are difficult, but difficult in a different way than one would expect from a language barrier.

Durrankar has arrived.

Glancing towards Sarcis, the gnome nods, "Before we get into what we have seen, let me introduce myself. I am Wassal Hammerclank, of Dragonier. Like many of your people, a refugee in Alexandria. Like your people, we have come to harm by the actions of the dracolich." A clenched fist at the mention of the latter. "We, you and I at least, are perhaps not so different." He pauses thoughtfully then. "As to what we saw... a village, overgrown with some manner of fungus. People trapped in coccoons of moss, created by spiders whose bodies seemed to be made of the same. And stones, that did not appear to belong."

Sarcis glances between the gnome and the scaled one before stepping off to the side some, making it more of a triangle shape that they stand in. She glances once more between them and her lips pull off to the side. A ponder, and finally "I'm Sarcis." A pause, "That is not the first time I've seen it. I've heard rumors that the gardens in Alexandria run rampant, that a gardener is to blame - though I doubt that very much." She turns her dark eyes toward Wassal for a moment, a nod, then back to Svar.

"There was that, but it's the stones that are more important - well - partly." She uses the nock of her unstrung bow to scratch out a pattern in the ground. "I saw them arranged like this, both on this side of the portal and-" a glance toward Wassal, "-on the other side." A look back to Svar.

"A group of us were tracking winged Girallons that were harassing others. The Sith-makar in charge of watching them said they were being harassed by Trogs that followed the Teacher. I didn't like that watcher, but it seemed like they were truthful." She leans onto the bow, a bit like its a staff. "Those stones I mentioned, arranged that way," a nod to the design scratched on the ground, "I also saw at the Trog campsite."

Hrrming softly, the gnome says, "This is the first I've heard of this Teacher, or his coming from Am'shere. But I am new to this area, so I suppose that's not surprising."

"...it." The sith-makar seems to think a while. Then shakes his head, slowly. That motion is awkward, as though it isn't natural to him. But Svarshan mimics it. "The differensses are here," he says, touching his head, "and here," he adds, touching his chest, over his heart. "If you travel to my people, to Am'sshere, with open heart. I hope you will get to ssee thiss. Just. As I have learned to sspeak your tongue, and usse your movements and. Gesstures. Perhapss I do not undersstand your heart, but I have learned. To appreciate it. There iss wonder in all the Dragonfather hass made." The inner lids flicker and he goes still. Still as stone for a moment, as though he were not alive.

Blink.

"Ssa. Sso he workss with the Ko-jodakh. ...it iss the Teacher, then. I am ssorry," he says to them, and means it. To the gnome, "We thought we had him contained. ...ssa. What do you know of. ...dragons?" he asks them both. "And how they act?"

It is then that Durrankar slowly trudges his way through the woods and comes upon the small group. "Brightscale." He says before looking towards the other two. "Peace on yoru nests..."

Nodding in agreement, Wassal smiles, "I too give my homage to the Dragon Father, as you call him, and the blood of his children runs in my veins. Though not as fully as yours, I guess." he shrugs, "But, tell me more of this Teacher. What does he want, and why?" The gnome takes his red cap off again and scratches his head, "Well, I know they're all different. They like to live different places, and have different personalities. Or tendencies, at least. Not much more than that."

"You may be new," Sarcis says, then gives a shrug with a sweep of her lips into an amused smile, "but I'm also a bit secretive. Comes with the job description." The Oruch gives a shrug of her shoulders, before a quick glance at Svar before adding to Wassal, "I also hear being mysterious is very attractive." Of course then Svar begins to talk and she gives a tilt of her head as she listens. A shrug of her shoulders follows by a shake of the head.

"It's not that, they just were acting a bit," Her eyes flick up and to the side, how to describe thing. Simply. "Off. Even for a Sith-makar. Either way, they were useful in helping uss find the Trog campsite." Sarcis turns her head to look otward the new arrival, a nod of her head, "Peace to yours.".

"I know very little of dragons." She finally adds simply to Svarshan.

"...dragonss are chararismatic. Proud and. Territorial. Alsso, predatory. It iss possible to disstract them with a challenge, and have them underesstimate you if they think you are. Prey."

"...When I met him, hiss aura wass sstrong. It iss possible he hass some of that kind in him. ...sso then imagine a dragon corrupted by Caracoth. But make him alsso ssith-makar, who...we care for our people. We think in termss of territory, and casste. ...sshaman," Svarshan says then, and inclines his head deeply. He looks to the others. "My insstinct iss to protect him, and all of my. Kind. It iss the nature of my casste."

He's quiet a while longer, and admits. Looks to Durrankar, "I do not know where to begin." To the others, he looks again. His inner lids flicker. "I am ssorry. Thiss is difficult. We do not know one another well. Our heartss. And I musst essplain ssomething that hass...for not undersstanding it, it hass perhapps gotten otherss killed."

"...you ssee..." and he fails again, fails to find words. Tries again. "We have been hunted, and sslaughtered by the Charn and by. Wizards. Corrupted by the Charneth ussing artifisse, to turn uss into sslaughtering. Automationss. ...sso the Teacher iss...driven, powerful, predatory. And he iss territorial."

"And he playss upon the fearss of my people. Within hiss possition, hiss casste--he iss in plasse to make demandss and. Perssuade. But they fear--and fight--for good reassons."

Sarcis pages: Caracoth?

"But.." questions Wassal, "What has that to do with Alexandria? If he is territorial, has he come to claim this as his territory?" frowning, pulling his hat over his head fiercely, the gnome then shakes his noggin side to side, "Not while I'm about. I'll not lose another home." Clenching his clawed fists at his sides.

You paged Sarcis with 'Maugrim's demented son who wants to devour the world, and destroy it. God of beasts. Nature imbalanced to the point of utter destruction.

Durrankar says, "He is....isolationist. In your words....it is akin to a cult." he then takes a breath. "Think of it like this. You have been in your area and surviving for a long time, thriving even. Then new, strange people come in and say 'listen to us! We'll solve your problems!'.....Strange people that you do not know, have never seen before, and they are coming into your town.....and telling you what to do because it is better." he then takes another breath. "The teacher is playing upon our fears. Softskins, as we call you, are strange and alien to us, but there are those of us that try to understand, even though your ways seem strange. The teacher is an isolationist....one that wishes to stay in Am'shere, and wishes to drive others out of the jungle.....by force, if he must. And if he uses force....there will be war.....and the Sith'makar will be slaughtered."

The gnome grunts derisively, "So, if the Sith-Makar were a body, this Teacher.. sounds like a disease. If you cut out or cure the disease, the body can heal." He looks to the others as though for confirmation or disagreement with his assessment.

"No, I think this goes being a border dispute." Sarcis says with a glance toward the Gnome, then toward the two lizards. She crosses her arms soon after, a frown forming and another shake of her head that drags some of her black hair from behind the pointed ear. An absent reach up to brush it back again and she sighs.

"This whole thing sounds rather delicate though." She looks toward Svar again, "If I understand you right, you're saying one of the people who influence your tribe is the Teacher. And they use their position, charimsa, and overall power to direct your people - a people who have suffered because of Wizards and the like - though he may be corrupted as well."

She gives a slow furrow of a crafted brow toward Durrankar, her finger pointing out toward Svar, "Right, but isn't that what he just said?"

"It iss as my sshaman ssays." The warrior will not gainsay the shaman. Instead, Svarshan stands there a moment. He makes it obvious, as though it is something he is trying to illustrate. Then, he continues: "Caracoroth would claim the world in blood and claw. The Teacher would, alsso, as his puppet. ..." Svarshan flicks his tail. He looks to the gnome with compassion. "Sso he tellss my People, that the ssoftsskins are monssters. He ssays, you are all like the Charneth, and ssteal our children."

Longer pause. "We are protective of our children, esspecially. We losse /sso many/ of them, ssoftsskins. He arguess that the world musst be purged in jungle, becausse it iss corrupt. And ssome of my people are. Afraid. They are afraid of. You. Your masshines. Magitech. The ensslavement Charn bringss."

The fail flicks again. Goes still, and slowly lowers to earth. "Our Empress opposses him. Sshe sshares the viewss my sshaman asscribed. But the Teacher givess sspeaches, attemptss to garner followerss. Becausse of his dragon blood, he iss charissmatic. Ssa, the only way to fight him iss not tooth and claw. It iss ssomehow. Making him harmless."

Ga'Elian has arrived.

Wassal mutters, "If you cut his tongue out, he can't spread his hate." Then looks sideways sheepishly, "But I bet that's not the type of solution you mean."

"...I enjoy sside tripss to the Hells. I would enjoy sslising out hiss tongue as he screams," the warrior replies bluntly, honestly.

"But it would make him a martyr."

Durrankar says, "But all killing him would do is make him a martyr. Hurting him physically would only make more go to his side......this is the problem."

Ga'Elian steps out from between a pair of trees, a brace of pheasants slung over his left shoulder. He heads silently straight toward the gathered group, and says, bowing, "Well met. Now who are you all hoping to martyr?"

"If you cut out his tongue, then you only make his point." Sarcis says to them, letting a hand fall free with the palm up. She shakes her head from side-to-side, "No, we'd need to find a way to remove his teeth - proverbially speaking - if we want to kill it in the long wrong." Then a furrow of her brow as she gives a shake of the head once more, "Either way, the natural state of countries is war, peace is what has to be fought for -- subjugation or otherwise. If we're going to fight for that peace, then we need to work with your Emperess to bolster our agreements and treaties. Heal the disease before you remove the bad tissue - hopefully you won't have any you need to take out."

The gnome looks at Svarshan with a big, somewhat feral grin. "I like you." then nods slowly, thoughtfully at the mention of martyrdom, "Right, right. So what you have to do is prove him wrong. Show your people a better way. If the metal won't bend one way, don't push it, or it'll break. Bend it back the other way, slowly and carefully, until it's the shape you want." Then rubs his chin, "But what shape is that, exactly?"

"Ssa. ...jusst do not make the. ...we have had ssome come in. And. It iss like Veysshan going to Dran and ssaying, 'I know all your problemss and will ssolve them.' What do the Dran do? They draw back, become protective. In thiss casse...it playss into the Teacher'ss Maw. ...hiss guardss. /Guardss/ are of the sshaman-casste. Sshaman warriorss. Powerful shapeshifters," Svarshan says. Well, that goes with Caracoroth, doesn't it?

In either case, the warrior returns the grin. Just careful. He's careful not to show full teeth.

Ga'Elian stops. He looks from one to another, and says, in a slighly hushed tone, "A cultist of Caracoroth, is this? You believe he would entice many of your People to join his cause?"

"It would be silly to be so open." Sarcis says back to Svarshan, "It would be the same to walk up to this Teacher and simply tell him what our goals are. Best to instead work with your Empress to create profitable arrangements, spiritually and physically, to help dull his teeth. If he has dragon blood as you suspect-" Another shake of her head, a grimace. She's shaking her head a lot lately. This whole situation seems to be going from bad to worse in her book.

"That depends on what exactly the people want - or those reforging it to use your example." Sarcis says back to Wassal with a nod of her head in his direction. Ga'Elian then speaks and she gives a little dip of her brow in his direction. She looks between the others there and asks in a voice free of Oruch accent, "Who exactly are you?"

With a grunt, the gnome shrugs to Sarcis, "The one doing the crafting of armor is rarely the one who asks for it to be done." he gestures towards Svarshan and Durrankar, "These kindly ones are the customer." He grins, "I just swing the hammer. As it were." To demonstrate he pats his greataxe. "Though, again, that's not the shape you want this to go. So I ask again, what shape is it?" He tilts his head, "Who do your people trust more than this Teacher? Whose words would they listen to more? That's the smith you want." He considers, "Perhaps this empress of yours?" The last directly towards the two sith.

Svarshan takes in a slow and thoughtful breath. He looks over to the sildanyar. "You came in during the middle-of-wordss, Ga'Elian. There iss much more to the tale. And ssa, thiss Teacher paintss ssoftsskins as villainss. Charn hass given him many essamples to causse my people to fear. He tellss them, you musst act or they will take your children. ...sso the oruch here, and my sshaman, sspeak well. To kill him outright makess martyr. We musst..." and he falls silent again.

His features go still. Quietly frustrated. Words just fail. "It iss /difficult/," is all he finishes with, before he looks to Sarcis. His eyes twinkle. And yet that is exactly what has happened, that says. Tarien's own humor. Sometimes, if you can't laugh. You cry. That is what this is. And then his smile fades, becomes somewhat melancholy. "We want to be sseen as a nation, sso Charn may not poach uss without. Repercussions. We only want peasse. And we love our children. We wissh ssafety for them, mosst of all. The Empress iss our world, and guiding light." And what he said--it means that the sith-makar under their Empress are not seen as a nation, or even a legal group of people, in some softskin nations. It isn't far to guess, given Charn's attitude. Meat to be poached. Slaves to be used. Put another thread together, and it becomes apparent why the Alexandrian Treaty...is so important. Legally speaking.

<OOC> Svarshan says, "That being, if they're allied with Alexandria, and someone steals their children--it potentially draws in Alexandrian help. Someone might not see /them/ as real people, but if other nations begin to do so? >.> There's a lot of layers here. I apologize if it's kind of tumbly. ^^;"

<OOC> Sarcis is with ya completely Svar, "I figured that's where you were going with it."

<OOC> Svarshan ^^; I am glad. Sometimes I'm not great at 'splaining. :3

<OOC> Sarcis says, "Doing completely fine, I think, even with the "language barrier" aspect."

<OOC> Svarshan ok. :3

Lifting his cap to scratch at his head, the gnome frowns. "I think all this is over me head. But it seems like your people and others just need to hang out together. We didn't have many Sith-Makar in Dragonier, but a few." He rubs his chin, "Maybe you could get some of them to speak to your people. Tell them that not all.. er, softskins... are wicked."

Durrankar says, "it is....not quite that simple. Most of the ones that follow him haven't seen past the borders of their villages, let alone Am'shere......""

Ga'Elian opens his mouth to respond to Sarcis, but as Wassal then Svarshan speak, he listens. Then he gives Sarcis a nod, and says, "As Lord Svarshan says, I am Ga'Elian, a forester of Holy Ni'essa and a hunter of fiends. This is the first I've heard of this Teacher fellow, and what I have heard so far is distressing enough, but I must confess that the intricacies of the nations is outside the scope of my usual dealings. Life in a City such as Alexandria still carries enough surprises for me, and most of the folks I've encountered therein are fairly unsophisticated."

The oruch gives another look toward the gnome as he gives further example of smiths and crafting, a slow shake of her head, "The customer can ask whatever they want, it still falls on the smith to do it right - or wrong - but really this analogy might be a bit too, forgive me, blunt for what's being said." Sarcis lets her hand fall free again, the palm facing up once more, "That might work, but it would need a campaign of it. If someone walked into Alexandria and started to say all Oruch and Gnomes are evil, would you believe them? The Empress might be able to make statements like that, and be believed, but she needs to have proof that we're not all there to abuse them."

Sarcis draws in a breath, then lets it out in a sigh, "This treaty is important, but also a chance to backfire. The wrong words, or right ones, will make this a nightmare. I almost wonder if that's why the Teacher is doing what he is. To sabotage this treaty on /this/ side of the portal through overgrowth and mercenaries."

With Svar having answered for Ga'Elian, she didn't see a reason to hold back on her words and then as the elf introduces himself she holds out a hand, "I'm Sarcis." She says simply, "Welcome to our talks, Ga'Elian."

"Ssa, and there iss Charn. There are hungry wizards. ...and we are different. Not in all wayss, but ssubtle oness. Perhapss that iss worsse, than when ssomething iss more obvious." The tail flicks, Svarshan's does. He looks to the gnome, and smiles warmly. "It iss not we are all unwilling to learn. It iss just it musst be approached with care and. Open heartss. Perhapss...perhapss even giving tapesstries. Sshowing Alessandrians working together with the scaled, resscuing ssith-makar ssmall-ones from the Charneth. I am no keeper-casste, to think of thesse things, but I have sseen ssimilar thingss done. In other nationss." To Sarcis, quiet, quiet thought. Then, "That iss good point. The Treaty iss threat to him."

Offering the newcomer a bit of a wave, Wassal finds a small rock to hop onto, kicking his feet up and letting them fall back to *click* on the stone. He sighs and leans back on his hands, watching wiser folk than he discuss politics.

Ga'Elian says, "Speaking of Charn, the lore of the Sildanyar does tell of the intrigues, treachery, and smoothe-tongued whisperings of the mul'niessa. Great is the havoc that a chain of lies, couched in isolated half-truths can work upon the hearts of the uninformed. To silence such a manipulator is often a tricky affair, and is usually best done only when his deceptive machinations are exposed in all their hellish hue."

Wassal hmms and looks at Ga'Elian, "I mean.. his methods are... well, they're not very nice, but he thinks he's doing right by his people. Is he wicked, for that? I mean, what if the Teacher guy himself could have his mind changed?"

Durrankar says, "Worse than that.....is when there are lies....backed by truth. Stretch the lie where it is backed by the truth, and you have a lie that looks a LOT like the truth. And the teacher is old.....so old that he will not budge unless he is forced to..."

Sarcis gives a couple more nods of her head at this point, her eyes sort of focusing on a middle ground as she starts to think this through. "What is Alexandria getting out of this treaty? That alone could be another barb to be jabbed into your people's skin. Not enough and he will argue the cost unseen, too much and it speaks for itself. We need to act on this with just as much guile as they do, for everything can be a dagger now." Another slow shake of her head and she looks toward Wassal and Ga'Elian.

"If all that is said is true, he's not only acting for what's best of his people anymore. He is acting on what's best for his deity, by way of his people -- or perhaps the opposite." A glance toward Svarshan, "Is there a way we can get the Empress, or one of the trusted, to send the contracts to the Adventurer's guild. Contracts of rescue, and we need bards."