Sketchy Waters, part 1
Log Info
- Title: Sketchy Waters, part 1
- Emitter: Thurid
- Characters: Thurid, Aryia, Seyardu, Seldan, Cryosanthia, Merek, Braelnoir
- Place: A09: Southern Banks of the Tornmawr
- Time: Saturday, June 12, 2021, 9:37 PM
- Summary:
-=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A09: Southern Banks of the Tornmawr *>--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Overhead, the Highbridge spans. Here is a pleasant enough bank, if one does not mind the ship traffic amid the broad and winding Tornmawr. A few picnicers spend their time here and a few blankets are present. Many of them are craftsfolk and other "ordinary" people, as well as a multitude of tired river sailors here on break. Or, the watchful husbands and wives of sea-sailors. To the south, the great river empties into that great expanse.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a curious look about her. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Little Fang 'Lily' Kobold Female A pinkscale youngling in a bathing suit, Cryo's daughter. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The sky is grey and it's drizzling this evening, but the air is warm and breezy. There are few picnicers about in this weather, having packed up and left when the light rain began to fall. But not all souls are detered by a little change in the weather. Thurid, who has been making a round of the city at a run, winds her way down the path leading down to the riverbank. It's only here that she finally takes a break. Though she doesn't sit, she pauses to stretch, touching her toes and then leaning left and right by the water's side.
Grey sky. A slight rain to counter the light heat. Finally, perfect weather than the oppressively sunny skies and bouts of cold the sea might bring. And less people around? This was a perfect spot for a run, up and down the banks.
She didn't catch the giantborn until a return lap, the shadow elf sweating up a storm greater than the drizzle outside, hair pulled up and out of her face. Aryia was taking large strides, moving rather fast. She gives a wave as she breezes by, stopping at the stairs and turning back around before skipping to a stop some feet away.
She had a healing scar on the side of her face, a cut from temple to jaw, and the back of her shirt looked haphazardly stitched together from a few large cuts. Panting, she waves again.
If there were those who were rarely deterred by the rain, it was certainly the sith'makar. One was off on the coast, away from the few determined picnickers, a silver scaled sith'makar. She had a large rock to sit on, and a fishing rod, hoping to catch up on the fishing she did not get to do the other day.
Thurid raises a hand in greeting as Aryia comes into her view, but waits until she stops to take a breather herself before greeting her properly. "Hail, friend." she ays, and then spies the new scar and the signs of battle wear on the clothing. "I'd wager you've a story to tell about that." she muses. "Ah, hold a moment..." she says, and then unslings the pack she wears, setting it down. She pulls a pothelm out, and puts it on. An odd gesture, to be sure. "I ought be able to understand your hand signals, now." she says then cheerily.
Aryia smiles, but it weakens slightly as Thurid digs around for whatever it was she was looking for. She tilts her head to the side, raising a brow at the helmet. For a moment, she blinks, then grins.
"Perfect!" Aryia sharply gestures once. "When did you get that? That must be incredibly useful." <Handspeech>
She looks past Thurid, spying the familiar sith-makar not too far away. Aryia lets off a sharp whistle, waving at her to get her attention.
Those few picnickers that have remained have retreated under the shelter of the Highbridge proper, and they are few enough. One of the few that remains is a young man alone, seated on the slope that buttresses the end of the Highbridge where it meets the land. Fair as a spring day, Seldan sits with his knees up, feet flat on the slope, and his usual shirt sports rolled-up sleeves in deference to the heat. Black tattoos stand out on his skin on muscled upper arms and the back of his neck.
A sketchbook and pencil in his lap. He studies whatever it is his has drawn, glances back to a rock that creates a small eddy in the rushing river, back to his parchment, back to the rock, then nods in satisfaction and sets about returning the tools to an oiled leather satchel whose handle is looped around his foot to keep it from sliding down the slope into the river.
Seyardu could not tell who made the noise right away, but the sound of the whistle immediately makes her turn around to seek the source. The silver sith'makar grinned, tail thumping once against the rock she was seated on with a small splash. The rod is taken apart, and put away, and she stands, stretching once before she lightly jogged over to where the mul and giantborn were.
"Aryia, peace on your nests. You were out for a run, I am assuming?" She turns to the other, much taller person. "And peace on your nest as well. This-, My name is Seyardu."
The silverscale gives a sharp toothed smile, and holds out a hand.
"I comissioned it a short time ago, from an enchanter in the city." Thurid offers with a smile Aryia's way. But soon enough she is issuing the sharp whistle and wave, and so the Jotun's attention turns to whom it is Aryia adresses. As Seyardu comes over, Thurid smiles warmly at the Sith-Makar. "And on yours as well." she offers in return. When the hand is offered she takes it and shakes it firmly- but not too firmly. The giantborn woman is well aware of her own strength. "Well met, Seyardu. I am Thurid, Warrior of Angoron. You're a friend of Aryia's, then?" she wonders.
Glancing back to the Mul, "Speaking of- that newest scar. Care to speak of it?" she wonders.
Aryia gives a sharp nod. "Yes, Seyardu is my friend. Helps me a lot, also fixes me when I get hurt."
She gives a small sigh and rubs her arm. "Which one? This one, Seyardu was there," she signs, finishing with pointing at the one on her face. "There was a... I don't know the word for it. Seyardu knows it. Man-fish. Tried to kill a fisherman. I killed it before they could kill the fisherman. Seyardu saved the man." Her signing has certainly got much, much better. Mostly, it was the confidence in what she was saying. <Handspeech>
She looks past Thurid, seeing the sole man sketching in the rain. The Mul scratches her head, this isn't drawing weather.
One by one, drawing implements go into the satchel, which presently proves to be less of a true satchel, and more of a haversack. Seldan gets to his feet, slings the haversack over a shoulder, and ventures out into the rain, closing the distance with the others soon enough. Up closer, the black marks on his upper arms are more clearly visible, of varying landmarks of Ea, faces, and figures of history. "Good evening, and peace upon your nest," he greets politely, adding the second with a nod to the silverscale. The handspeech is less comprehensible, and he frowns, reaching for his haversack. "Forgive me."
Thurid nods her head then in approval at Aryia's story, "That's a good thing you did- both of you did." she says, but then her expression cracks into a grim. "Though, you could work on the telling. There's room enough for embeleshment in any story." she muses.
"We both agreed to be friends, yes. It seems a bit formal to say it like that, but I am not used to the concept." She responded, chuckling like a bit. "A warrior is something to be respected, and one of Angoron is likely to draw note. She is speaking of a sahuagin, long isolated kin that live beneath the depths, and are violent to most beyond their kind."
Seyardu nods back to the man. "And peace on your nest as well."
As Seldan arrives, she offers him a respectful nod, "Hail, Silverguard. How does the day find you?" she wonders of him.
She turns back to Seyardu and nods her head a bit at the description, "Ah, it's a sad fact that's all too common." she says then in regards to the attitude of Sahaugin. "Well, you prevailed, and saved a life. That is itself worth celebrating, even if you earned a new scar in the doing of it, you might wear it as a badge of pride." she says, and claps Aryia on the shoulder.
"So it is indeed." Seldan's voice has a Myrrish lilt, although the answer is somewhat absent as he continues to search through his haversack. It does not take him too long to locate what he seeks, which appears to be a scroll case. "Well, Warrior, although I fear that I cannot understand your friend," he answers, looking up only briefly from his perusal to address Thurid. "A moment only."
He seems to locate the scroll he seeks, and with swift gestures and a few words of power, casts what appears to be a simple enough spell. The mere act draws a boyish smile to his face as he works, and it appears to trouble him not at all that the scroll crumbles in his hand and fades to dust as the casting completes. "That is much better. Forgive me, my lady," he turns then to Aryia.
GAME: Seldan used a Scroll of Comprehend Languages.
Aryia watches Seldan arrive, her giving a small wave, and relaxing some as apparently Seldan knew Thurid. She gives a shrug, and waves off the apology. Used to it.
The scarred mul gives a weak smile as she takes a step to the side to compensate from the congratulations. "Maybe. I have too many already. But I'm not good at telling stories. I just tell things like they are." <Handspeech>
Her attention snaps towards Seldan as they start to use magic, She squints some, wary, before relaxing somewhat. She shrugs again, "It's fine. I'm not used to people understanding me anyways." A pause. "..tch!" she verbilizes in a hiss, straightening up.
"Do... you know what happened at the Temple of S...S-E-R-E-L? I cannot spell it. The temple with the laws and horses," she asks them with a bit of worry, her looking over her shoulder and scratching her back with a hand. <Handspeech>
"I do not like to lie unless absolutely necessary. I will leave it to, the fishermen? I believe they are known for embellishing the truth on a lot of things." She added herself. "I am lucky to have gotten out with no injuries myself, though that is due mostly to Aryia."
"Ah! a magic scroll, I know how those work, somewhat. Though the only person I can make understand languages is myself."
Thurid chuckles at Seyardu, "The key is only to stretch the truth, not break it, when telling a story." she says with a grin. "After all, the boast is something you win the right to in victory." she says.
The Jotunborn tilts her head to the side at Aryia's sudden exclamation, and her expression grows a shade darker. "Aye, I'd heard it'd been attacked, though little more than that." she says to Aryia then. "I was away from the city on a mission for the temple, at the time. I'd hear your account of it, if you've one to tell." she says to Aryia.
"There is no need to lie in the telling of a tale," Seldan agrees, nodding vigorously, but immediately sobers at Aryia's mention of an incident at a Temple. "Serriel," he supplies, his boyish smile vanishing at once. "I had heard naught of this, but would hear your tale. Perhaps I have been too much in my own pursuits, of late."
Aryia closes her eyes, steels herself, and gives a smal huff. "Okay." <Handspeech.
"I was delivering a box to that temple. Dropped it off, and then this mul'neissa tried to get my and a couple of golems to get soemthing from inside the temple for them. But then a fog came in, and they left. Then, it came back, trying to get in but blocked by the temple itself. It looked like a goat, and it was some kind of demon." <Handspeech>
Aryia rubs her arm, taking a break to gather her thoughts before continuing to relay what happened through a mixture of signs and pantomime. "A magic person named... S-E-S-R-A-N? Sorry, I'm not good at spelling. They killed it, and said there was another one further back outside. We went to fight it. But then more come out of the fog. Beareded devil, I think someone said they were. A lot of them. I also saw flying things with firey arrows trying to shoot the magic man. I... don't remember much after that. The bearded thing ripped my back and fell. Then I got healed by some winged thing. And then I ran." <Handspeech>
"Because I was absolutely fucking not staying there," she finishes with her arms crossed, Aryia frowning at the memory of the fight. Perhaps still a little bit harrowed over it. She had metal plates over her hands now, a well fitted cestus on both. Cold iron. Looks like she learned from this encounter.
"Devils, in the temple?" Thurid asks then, sounding rather alarmed at it. "I'd heard about some summoners escaping to the outskirts or the old sewers, but that's..." she shakes her head, the usually opressively positive Jotun looking deeply troubled by this news. "That they are acting so boldly is worrying." she admits then. A hand comes up to rub the back of her neck as she thinks it over.
"Would that I had been here." she sighs, and shakes her head. "I'd have gladly come to your aid. Devils are dangerous foes." she adds then.
She falls quiet for a moment, and then says, "I'll need to speak with the other warriors, see if there's aught we might do to be more vigilant, and curtail such an attack happening again." she says then.
"I heard this story before from Aryia before, the day of, when she returned to the pub she was staying of." Seyardu nodded, taking a step back. "Thank you for stopping by the temple the other day by the way, I am sorry I wasn't there, but I am glad you were still able to get the help you needed."
I do not know much about dealing with demonkind. I should get something for myself, in case I encounter any. But carrying too many weapons does get tiring over time." She sighed. "They seem too dangerous to take lightly."
"Cesran is known to me, although not well," Seldan nods his understanding at the name, watching Aryia intently. The rain is making inroads into his clothing, and his hair is now wet enough to plaster to his face, but he pays it no mind, only smoothing water away from his eyes in light of this much more interesting subject. "Devils in the Temple of Serriel is ill news indeed." An affirming nod at Thurid emphasizes the point. "I, too, have experience with demons, though little enough with devils, and indeed is there a difference between them. There are those more knowledgeable on the subject than I."
His eyes lower, and he studies the wet sand around his shoes intently, guilt settling into the set of his shoulders. "Too oft have I been away from this place," he admits.
"There was someone attacking that said something that "This wasn't M-E-R-E-K,"" she signs with actual air quotes. Before sighing and shifting her weight onto her back foot. Uncaring that she was slowing getting more soaked by the drizzle. Not like she had anything on her that would ruin. "I... do not know. There was a lot of very powerful magic being used. Some that I have never seen. I did not want to be anywhere near there at all. Don't get me wrong, I'll punch a prick if I have to. But I was worried some big magic thing was going to go off and I didn't want to get caught in that." <Handspeech>
"They were after him, you think?" Thurid wonders of Aryia then, and she shakes her head once more. "I am not entirely certain what to think of that. I don't know him well- Merek- but I have met him on several occasions. I know he was embroiled in the thwarted exectution some moons ago, and I've not seen him since." she says then.
She picks up her pack, "I ought go to the temple presently, and see what might be done." she says then, as she slings it over a shoulder. "And, Aryia." she turns to face her, "It's not cowardice to flee an overwhelming foe. You can do more good living another day." she offers.
Finally, she turns to Seyardu, "Sorry to depart so suddenly. It was good to meet you." she says, and then she turns to Seldan and offers a nod of her head, "Silverguard." and then she's on her way, heading back towards the slope.
"Warrior, Her light upon your path." There farewell is short, but not rude, as Thurid turns to depart. Standing in the rain is not the time for long-winded pleasantries.
"Merek is ... a different matter." Seldan's tone cools, and he speaks carefully. Although he raises his eyes, there is something cautious in his body language. "I do not fault you for not wishing to stay. The creatures of the Hells are dangerous, make no mistake, and are not to be taken lightly. If one is not well-prepared, an encounter with one can go very ill indeed, and better that the city be warned, should it occur again."
He pushes a stray lock of rain-dampened ginger hair out of his eyes, then, and goes on. "Merek has been released from prison, at least for the moment. "I ... have not seen him myself."
"No, it is not, I suppose." Seyardu agreed, before she waved the jotun off. "It is alright, you have business you wish to deal with. Peace on your nest Thurid."
"I think I have met merek once before, or twice. If people are looking for them, then that is concerning though. They seemed quite troubled by something. I wonder if they would be able to take care of themselves if demons were looking for them currently."
Aryia says, "I... don't care about running?" Aryia frowns as her giantborn friend walks away before just giving them a wave goodbye. She turns a bit to get back to the smaller group, taking a few steps towards one of the shops on the bank to be under an awning. <Handspeech>
"I think I've seen them once. I can't remember. Was with a lot of people and I didn't know how to sign at all. Didn't know he was wrapped up in something like that." <Handspeech>
She shifts a bit. Fidgets with the plates on her hands. Topic change. "Why were you drawing? It's raining," she points to Seldan."
Seldan's lips thin, and he nods. "That ... was a messy business, indeed, and I am not yet content with its outcome." His eyes go to Seyardu, then. "I do not fear Merek's power against such as they, for he is no lightweight when it comes to arcane matters, and Eluna yet favors him." _Only the gods know why,_ his tone leaves unspoken. "I fear for his sanity. He has seen and suffered much, and it has touched his mind."
Then Aryia changes the subject, and the smile returns to his face as he willingly accepts the shift of topic. "I have been here for some hours, my lady. There is much to see in the waters of the Tornmawr, and my drawing could yet use work. A quiet day indeed begets such leisure. Besides, I was beneath the bridge, and it is dry there. Wet is the least of the things I have been, since first I came to this city." The smile turns rueful."
"I know some people like to draw scenes when they are raining, the streaks add an interesting shade and pattern to a painting or drawing." Seyardu said, looking a bit curious and thoughtful. "I don't know much about the specifics. Aryia's book is water resistant, though."
Aryia didn't know how to feel being addressed like that. At first she just wrote it off, but rubbed her neck as the honorific was used again. Must have been some cultural thing, she'd be dead calling the wrong person that back home.
"Oh. Didn't see you under the bridge. And, yes. I do. Needed it because being on a boat a lot ruins books," she lightly elaborates, fanning her hands. <Handspeech>
The patter of rain on the water is interrupted by a splash, then a second louder splash. Something breaking the surface, coming up. Two heads appear near the shore, reptilian. A smaller one, with pink or salmon or carnation scales, depending on the lighting, and a larger one with white scales.
The larger looks around, "Oh, we've drifted quite a bit. Swim to shore, remember, power with your tail."
"Peoplesss." The smaller says, her high pitched voice nearly lost in the distance and the rain.
"Yes, we'll say hello when we're closer." Or perhaps now, much louder, "Peace on your Nest, we're coming out."
"It is no trouble." Seldan's boyish smile returns, even as he smooths that stray lock of hair, now quite wet, out of his eyes again. It doesn't seem to want to behave. "I am certain it does. I have spent little enough time at sea. Do I spend time on the water, I prefer to swim in it."
His head snaps up and towards the river at the call. "Cryosanthia." His tone carries not a shred of doubt, and he takes a step back from the shore, to leave them space to emerge, only then does he answer Seyardu. "Drawing the rain itself is fascinating, but not a skill I have mastered. It pleases me better to draw a droplet falling to the water, and the ripples that come forth when it strikes."
The sith'makar was glad she had stowed her fishing rod now. She hadn't considered people swimming nearby for long distances. "That sounds interesting, but do you need a long reference for that? It would be hard for a single impact to be replicated completely, though I understand if you wished to stay out here and enjoy the day." True, the sith'makar was postively drenched, but she did not mind.
"Peace on your nest!" She called back, giving a wave.
Aryia was rather drenched, but was dripping dry underneath an awning. She didn't have much to say about drawing, it was something she'd never really tried in the past aside from random doodles when she was bored.
She looks past the group, her spotting white and pink scales emerging. Aryia smiles, her hand shooting up to give a hearty wave. Small metal plates on the back of her hands softly clinking from the movement.
"Peace on your nest!" she signs from distance, one unable to hear the small noises she usually makes. <Handspeech>
The Sith'Makar and Kobold swim ashore with minimal arm action, legs kicking firmly and their tails swishing heavily from side to side. A small wave of water pushes in front of them.
Cryosanthia has two long spars on her back, arched out of the water which make occasional sweeping motions that are ultimately ineffective. Little Fang has no such accessory or encumberance.
As they come into the shallows and closer to the edge, they use their hands to push off rocks, the bottom, and then stand and pick their way closer. Water streams off them both in sheets.
They are clothed, wearing oddly thin and tight suits that are only on their bodies. Lily's has a Rada symbol, and blue-ish colouration. Cryo's is a similar one piece, seemingly a larger copy of the Kobold's, with her Dragon-Eye symbol in a similar position. Her's looks a little more decorative, with some sort of corset, and she has gloves and shin-wraps as well as her haversack.
Cryo is winding and rolling up a long length of spider-silk rope, that ties her and Lily's wrists together.
"Peasss on your Knessta! Sseysss." The pinkscale says, waving, also, "Aaaayss. Ssselssan."
"Peace on your nest, and Her light upon your path, Cryosanthia. And upon yours, little one." Seldan turns the smile on Lily, although it is a short-lived one, for that. "You sought the fish?" he asks of them both. By now, the rain has begun to soak through his clothing, leaving it clinging to him. The unbleached linen of the shirt hints at more tattoos beneath, although the blue and silver sleeveless robe over it does much to keep too much from showing.
Peace on your nest, Lilly." The silver sith'makar waved back, smiling to the two newcomers. Though she squinted a bit as they were far away, or at least more than usual, as she moved closer to the overhang. "You mentioned being out in the rivers to swim before, and now that makes sense. The clothes are strange though, do they help with swimming?"
The mul'neissa takes in the two as they come up, her rocking back and forth on her feet as she waits for them to get closer. Her shifts attention goes to the length of tattoos in front of her, Aryia idly wondering what she'd have if she ever got any, but shivers at the thought of having a needle anywhere near her.
"Fish?" she asks with a wriggling hand and a cocked brow. <Handspeech>
"Yesss. Fisssh! Thisss one this long and other one thiss long and there crab and crawfisss and boat." Lily launces into a vigorous explanation, using her hands.
Cryo watches her, crouching to undo the wrist strap, then her own, and slipping the rope into her haversack. "Lily was there for the fish, yes. This one wanted to lie on the bottom and think about things."
They are both dripping water and picking up sand, dirt and small pebbles on their feet as they move away from the shoreline. The whitescale examines Seldan's upper arm intently, seeking something, then gazing at his tattoos. "Breathing water changes the way my thoughts move. Lily had the spell. This one has been wanting to take her into the Tornmawr for a long time."
"Yesss. Ssslipss!" The carnation scale answers happily, rubbing her hands on the front of her suit. She's the centre of attention!
"They help. This one would swim in scales but it's best not to in the city. I borrowed one of Irshya's suits for Lily and made a similar one for myself. The water does slide over it." The whitescale adds more details, nodding to Aryia, "Fresh water Fish, yes."
A smile drifts across Seldan's lips, a fleeting thing, really, in response to a thought of his own. He seems oblivious to the study of the tattoos, or really, that he is even displaying them at all. They are of various people and landmarks of Ea, depicted in great detail, and not always of things known today. "Fascinating. I am certain that they would aid in swimming, yes. You wished to think on things? Does something trouble you?"
"Both are good things. Food and retrospection, sometimes they go hand in hand, though other times, it is merely the time left to your own thoughts that are necessary. I know that quite well. Perhaps I should go for a swim through there sometime" Seyardu nodded back. "Did you test out your contraption under water Lily? Or is it still under construction?" She asked. Another pause. "Yes, that makes sense, I think. Now that I think, those on the beach nearby wore similar, some of them. Before the rain drove most of them away."
Now Aryia was perplexed. She looks between Cryo and Seyardu, her squinting some. In a rare display of her true youth, she innocently asks, "Can... Sith-makar,-" a clawed hand in front of her face gnashs a few times, "breathe underwater..?" <Handspeech>
"Sstill workingss on the crabsss." Lily answers happily, making crawling motions with her fingers.
The whitescale exhales deeply. She is moving slowly, her motions still as if she's underwater, lugubrious with a dazed expresion. Her eyes are oddly reflective until she blinks and holds it, and when she opens them again some clear scales slide up with her lids. "Oh, so many things."
She waves towards her shoulders, "My wings," to Aryia, "the devils", to Seyaru, "The Ner-Sektoth mutant" around in the air, "Kobolds, Animus, Giggles, the plane..."
"Dahhhhhhhhh!" Lily interrupts, posing dramatically, hands curled into little claws and aimed at her Ssassa.
"It's all right Lily, we're not playing now." She crouches, sitting on her heels, tail extended straight behind her as a third tripod support. She reaches, rubbing the carnation-scale's head, "Whether some of this is Her doing somehow, another less aggressive dream. Things."
Cryo stares at Aryia's signs for a little while, shakes her head slowly. "This one is not switched back to land fully yet. I'm sorry I don't understand."
Seldan blinks at Aryia, but hesitates. "She asks if you breathe underwater." To the rest of it, he listens intently, that smile playing around his features, although he does not explain why. "I expect to deal with Giggles soon enough, although I have heard little of late. What think you of the matter of Animus?"
Aryia huffs slightly, crossing her arms and looking off to the side. To the observant, she mouths, "That's not what I said."
GAME: Seyardu rolls heal: (12)+7: 19
Cryo's wings look like a deformity, or a botched polymorph spell. Or perhaps some nasty flesh-scuplting curse by a hag.
Merek walks along and to the bank of the Tornmawr, while he takes the time to pull the longcoat which he wears about him. The man seems to be waiting and watching the place. Well, with the Geas, the man doesn't really do a lot anymore or say anything, though he does greet his friends with a nod, while he takes a drink of what looks like alcohol from the flask with him.
Seyardu looked back to the elf, and she nodded for a brief moment. "Ah, yes! I am sorry, I thought you knew. While not like the sahuagin you encountered the other day, sith'makar can breathe underwater. I can as well, and most can just fine. We can hold our breaths just like you could, though perhaps for longer in most cases, but also, one can breathe underwater for a while, though it is still taxing on one. You can still breathe, but not for long, or you risk suffocating like anyone else" She explains. Though after a while, her gaze went back to the other sith'makar, and the squint narrowed even more.
"Your wings, by the way, if you do not mind me asking, did Braelnoir help you with them the other day?"
She turned back to where the man walked along, and offered a wave. "Peace on your nest! Are you here to do some fishing? I cannot say I had much luck myself."
Cryosanthia nods, "Yes, as Seyardu says. I can for about an hour or so. I've managed to sleep in shallow water. Really shallow water. I think I partially wake up for a breath." She grins, "too deep and I very violently and unpleasantly wake up."
She bobs her head as Seyardu speaks, "She did, nothing much changed."
Merek's arrival gets a nod, and she carefully slides her arm around Lily and holds her. The whitescale looks over at Seldan, "You seem happy about something and this one is curious. However. Animus, all these efforts for the Pact... I'm not sure about them, the various shards' personalities, such that they are, who is involved. Did Brealnoir tell you Lars took her out on one? That Bard that keeps charming her. He's just one I wouldn't want around for whatever final event happens."
Very carefully she looks at Merek again and asks. "You are all right?"
"An old memory." Seldan's smile fades, and his eyes lower, much in the manner of one who has been caught. He lets the silence hang for a moment before going on, "None truly know what will come of that," he agrees. "No decisions can be made, do we not gather them all first, and if naught else, keeping them out of the hands of those who would misuse them is paramount."
He falls silent, then, listening to the conversation, although his eyes go to Merek. Near-instantly, he straightens, his posture and demeanor shifting into something guarded, almost wary.
Aryia nods towards Merek, her only knowing of them in passing, and having them at the table during a discussion when she wasn't able to communicate very well. She was wary as well, not for other reasons that she had learned of, but because she didn't trust magic users.
However, the pugilist has no idea what was being spoken of, and her head constantly swiveling between Seldan and Cryosanthia. It was clear she was lost.
Merek doesn't acknowledge a single wary look that's given his way. For whatever reason, he seems to be completely at peace with himself. He does look to Seyardu, and nods to the woman, "I am thinking about fishing," the man offers, while he will lift up that rod, and then he will answer to Cryosanthia, "I am well. Why wouldn't I be? I'm still me. A geas won't change that." To Seldan, he just nods, then to Aryia, "It's really good to see you around again."
The man pulls the longcoat from him while he takes the time to adjust the scarf which he is wearing, "I need to fish for the Temple of Eluna and all."
Any lizard in the area would easily smell the change in the whitescale's scent. Alarm! Protect! Hatchlings are Threatened!
"I remember hearing about that I think, one time. This bard that no one seems to trust in the slightest. I can not remember exactly, and I know not of this pact business." Seyardu spoke up. "I hope that your fishing goes better than mine in that case."
She turned back more to Cryosanthia, and Lily, and she took a step forward, in front of Lily and Aryia slightly. "I was just thinking though Cryosanthia, I know that the baths at the Tarrace had tables for massages. Perhaps those would help, if the muscles were relaxed?" Seyardu pages: nods. Not entirely sure on that yet.
"Meksss!" Lily chirps happily, starting forward. She's prevented, Cryo's hand restraining her. The carnation scale stares up at her Ssassa, nostrils flaring, picking up on scents and body language that is understood only by the Sith'makar.
"Merek," Cryosanthia says, her own nostrils flaring and scenting something off the man that alarms her. Her own are clear to the other sith'makar, caution, be aware, be ready, younglings may threatened. Familiar scents in Am'shere to the people. To humans and elves, the waters of the Tornmawr seem to have left her reeking unpleasantly, something fishy, something lizardy. "Your mind is not fully your own now, and this is a concern. I say as one who was also and may still have her mind compromised."
"More to the point though," her eyes examine him, "Cesran was attacked at the Temple of Serriel, by demons and devils. They thought he was you."
"Did you do something? If not, something may have followed you."
A quick glance at Seyardu, before her focus returns to the man. "This one may go there soon. Return Irshya's suit. Yes."
Aryia's nose wrinkles under the scents, her glancing to Crysoanthia. Was the river that bad? Though, it didn't take being a Sith-Makar to feel the tension, something she was decently good at.
She nods a few times, adding with a few handsigns, "I was there," <Handspeech>
The man is pretty much like he always is. Except, well, the whole GEAS thing and having been dead in the past month. Nothing life changing.
"Very strange." Seldan does not take his eyes from Merek, as he listens to the others, finally entirely slicking back his rain-drenched hair. The rain has slowed a little, but it's too late for him to not be soaked. "You are not being pursued by the Duke, I hope." Something in him goes very, very still at the mention of this Duke, whoever that is, and every inch of him suddenly goes taut. Ready.
He casts a look at Aryia. "Forgive me, my lady. There is much happening, here in Alexandria. The shards to which Cryosanthia refers are the remains of a slain god, or so it is believed. Regardless of their true origin, they are objects of great power, power not easily controlled by mortals."
Her whims guiding her feet for the time being, and doing her part in the Game, Braelnoir is roaming the streets with her scythe propped over one shoulder, and a traveller's backpack slung over the other. Her course brings her along the riverside, the hand unburdened by her weapon is instead busy bringing a seared kabob to her mouth for a nibble...
This casual mastication sort of slows to a stop as she notices a convention of folks she recognizes. Tucking the meat into her cheek, she trills a quick whistle and waves her kabob to those who turn to regard her while she resumes chewing.
Merek looks then to Cryosanthia when she mentions that his mind isn't his own. Then when she will tell him about the demons. The man seems to think about it, while he takes a look to the fishing pole, he nods a bit to Lily. Then he speaks, "... I don't know, a geas is a magical compulsion. It doesn't change the way you perceive things, I'm still fully aware of myself, generally. It's not like a mind control."
The man looks to Seldan while he thinks about it, "... It is probably the Duke. That, or the people that didn't want me to look for the pieces of the magical god. I have two groups of people which would like me back. The Duke for the Iron Hells. Probably not thrilled that I escaped it." He doesn't seem to like mentioning he's been to the Iron Hells, while he takes a look along to Aryia and Seyardu. He was kind of hoping to have peole that would be his friends that didn't need to know about all of that. Then he nods, "I'll... Kill the Duke in that case, it is the only way." The man sighs, while he takes a look along the water, "... Why can't I ever just fish."
Except a compulsion is very much like mind control...
And then a voice comes out of nowhere...
