MEETUP: Requiscat and Resolve

Log Info

• Title: MEETUP: Requiscat and Resolve
• Emitter: Strike
• Characters: Aryia, Cryosanthia, Jinks, Lysos, Seyardu, Strike, Karelin
• Place: A Feast Hall
• Time: Monday, October 18, 2021, 8:56 PM
• Summary: Strike invites her friends, new and old, to a dining hall to tell her story, and perform a ritual.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aryia        4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her.
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Jinks        3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
Lysos        5'6"     105 Lb     Human/Tsuran      Female    Dark eyed tsuran girl.
Seyardu      5'6"     150 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint.
Strike       5'11"    155 Lb     Half-Elf          Female    A dusky grey half elf girl in grey and black clothes.
Karelin      6'2"     256 Lb     Human             Male      Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred.                    
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  As the Hostess -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Strike       5'11"    155 Lb     Half-Elf          Female    A dusky grey half elf girl in grey and black clothes.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Some time after the initial invitations were sent out, new developments in the Temple District came about.

In short order, amended invitations offered cordial apologies, and relation of new accommodations. This would be a feasthall of a modest, if appreciable quality, and the curious advisory that it may be warmer than normal due to special circumstances and appropriate layering would be best.

The Feasthall, Bron Taser's, is in the murky area between the trade and noble districts, and the craftsmanship of the place rather reflects a curious blend of sound workmanship, with a certain understated sense of class. With the sort of gold an adventurer can throw around with a couple years behind them, the place has been reserved for this gathering....

Whatever it may be.

The tables have all been aligned in chevrons, pointing away from what seems an artifice device of some type issuing forth a certain amount of radiant heat.

A table is outside of sparking distance of the closed contraption, with a round cover the size of a human's upper torso standing at it's center.

There is a pair of greeters of bright smile and warm demeanor to welcome each and every confirmed guest to the festivities, and a well kept fellow in artificer's trappings monitors what is probably his device from a seat set as close to hand as 'out of the way' allows.

Lysos stops before the greeters, eyes going wide at what she can glimpse of the inside... though lest she hold up anything at the door, she quickly produces her invitation. Well, tries quickly. It takes checking five pockets before she finds the invitation, handing it over with a face-splitting grin before sauntering inside, going slow to not only take in the setup, particularly the centerpiece contraption, as well as to do her best to avoid tempting fate.

It was unfortunate that the temple district was closed down for the event, but seeing it would be ongoing in spite of it, Seyardu, upon receiving the secondary invitation, spent some time finding where it was. She had not explored too many of the different establishments in Alexandria, so finding it took some time, and more time asking for directions. But she manages to find the place, and bows her head to the greeters, before making her way inside. It was a bit surprising that she received an invitation, but she would not ignore it.

So the silver sith-makar finds a seat at one of the tables, taking a stool to sit down and watch the comings and goings for the time being, and the strange artifice machine that had been set up.

Aryia was quite surprised to receive and invitation. People don't... invite her to things very often. Unless its about stupid nobles and their explosive parties. And to be important enough to get an amended invitation...?

Yes. She was looking forward to this.

A sharp dressed mul'neissa woman strides into the Feasthall, her pulling off her shades to reveal wide glowing milk eyes taking in the scenery. She sets them on the collar of a white shirt that's clad by a silver vest, along with a grey suit jacket, the sleeves empty as the jacket was just over her shoulders. She gives a low whistle and finds a seat with her friend, eyeing the strange machine, but curious as to what it was.

A white-scaled sith'makar woman arrives, tall and regal, Cryosanthia is wearing a velvet dress with fluffy cuffs, hem and collar. The fur is a pale, glacial blue while the dress is a stark white which goes well with her scales and natural patterns.

Her tail is held low and restrained behind her, she moves with measured steps. Her invitation is shown, she's granted entrance and she takes up a table. Looking around she notices Seyardu and Aryia, and waves.

Jinks arrives in what can best be described as a cassock of crushed velvet, the coat hanging down to his ankles and sliding against loose pants. A high, straight collar (as he often prefers) stitches into an extra layer of draped fabric that hangs over his chest, shoulders and back. The fabric seems black until it catches the light to shimmer deep green, every edge and seam trimmed gold, and an absurdly unnecessary array of polished glittering buttons decorate the thing. He has his Tarienite brooch and the chaotic assortment of rings have begun to repopulate on his fingers. Three delicate, dangling chains hang from a nostril piercing across cheek and chin before sweeping up to a trio of tiny hoops climbing his earlobe.

There's a tallman-sized bottle under each arm, wrapped in silk and ribbons. He's a gnome bearing gifts. All smiles, too, as his large, onyx-black eyes take in the room.

The greeters are very nice, and, seeing the invitations are valid, offer to take any cloaks or coats as the case may be, and assure the guests that there is an extensive menu on offer, and each table has listings of what is on offer.

The hostess, herself, as yet seems to be absent for a little while longer, perhaps handling something 'backstage' as it were.

In time, though, as people start to find their seats, she arrives.

It's... certainly a different look for the woman; a sleek, if expensive seeming, floor length gown of cream satin, with opera gauntlets of lavender gossamer, much like what clads what is visible of her left leg via the knee length slit in the skirt. Her hair is plaited into an ornate braid and threaded with silver and gold silk ribbons, and someone has touched up her face with subtle makeup, likely well behind the half-Mul'niessa's talents.

Strike looks to the large device, gives a slightly thoughtful seeming regard to the table, then steps down toward the tables themselves with a soft, almost bashful smile at the corner of her lips, "Thank you all for coming." she says softly, "I'm... sorry about the confusion."

Seyardu waves to Aryia and Cryosanthia when she sees them entering, and the others joining, though she looks to her own clothes, and sighs, feeling out of place in level of dress. She at least takes a moment to undo her breastplate, and stow it in her bag, which is already an improvement.

"You cannot control the dealings of the temple district Strike any more than I can, so there is no apologies necessary, Strike." The silver makari states, waving off the apology as well. "While I do not know what the occasion is, it seems to be quite significant, so I am glad you are still able to celebrate it."

The fact that she's probably the least impressively dressed (aside from Seyardu, perhaps... but the Sith Makar get to look impressive no matter what they wear) doesn't seem to give Lysos much pause as she drops herself into a chair, waggling her fingers at familiar faces as she settles onto the seat's edge, anticipation for.... what comes next, whatever it is. And when Strike arrives, well... the luckless sorceress's eyes widen, lips forming an 'o' when the host of the party reveals herself. "Now that's an entrance!" she declares, bringing a hand off of her knee to wave at the half-Mul.

Aryia gives a small dip of her head, a smile, and a wave of a hand to the others, surprised that she knew such a number of them. The sith-makar are given a familiar flash of, "Peace on your nest,", and the others afforded a, "Hello!".

As their hostess arrives, the mute woman's snowy brows rose to new heights. Huh.

"Hello Strike," hands give wide motions to be easily seen. "You look really nice. Don't worry about it, thanks for inviting us." <Handspeech>

Cryosanthia has no coat to take, her clothing adjusts and the cloak she wore vanishes. She takes a seat on a bench, one that accommodates her tail and pulls herself near but not too close to the table.

The menu is perused, a meal of chicken ordered, with a side of bones. Tea and juice.

She looks up and examines Strike's cream gown, tilting her head a little, "This one is grateful to be invited. Thank you Strike, it has been some time. You look delightful." Her tail curls around her bench to avoid being a tripping hazard.

Jinks is no stranger to the etiquette of these affairs but it still rankles that he's not the best-dressed thing at the ball. It's not your show, my fellow, take a breath. ... If he thinks it enough times maybe he'll start to actually believe it.

The bottle are sat down and he shakes out his arms. Damned things are heavy at this size. He could've made them easier to carry, obviously, but open and half-drunk they'd make a less-impressive gift.

The gnome's lips split into a toothy grin at the various greetings, returning each with a practiced half-bow; arms folded at his waist and one lowered shoulder.

Oddly, he looks as natural in this sort of setting as he does drunk and unconscious, sprawled over a tavern table in a pool of his own spittle.

The half-mul drifts to her guests, a touch of color dusting her features as she notes Seyardu's hasty doffing of her armour.

Ahem, "I'm sorry, I didn't... require any particular dress from anyone who came, but... this is..." She shrugs her shoulders, "It won't happen again, and I understood I should look my best for everyone who blesses the occasion by showing up."

She smiles to Lysos, stepping over to bring the admittedly small group of her acquaintances together, "Have all of you had the chance to meet?" she wonders.

Her eyes flit toward Aryia's gestures and she bows her head, coloring anew, "Thank you, Aryia, so do you."

She looks to Cryosanthia, then, on her greeting, "It has, thank you. I... understand you've had some trouble, lately, I..." am not entirely sure what to say, so she tries "Let me know if you need anything."

Her attention turns toward Jinks as he settles in, and offers him a, "Hello, Jinks."

"If this one knew what colors and how dresses should look, they would have done so." Seyardu chuckles. "This one has sleeves which can change shape, but they are limited by the imagination, so to speak."

She spends some time reaching for and perusing a menu, looking at the others. "So, it is something you can only do once? Would you like to tell us about what it is, in that case? I must admit, I am more than a bit curious."

"Thank you Strike," Cryosanthia says, unconsciously adjusting her clothing, smoothing down the front of her dress, little furrows left in the velvet from her claws. A lot has happened, too much to easily explain and too distracting for the evening. The whitescale will cover it later. She smiles demurely, "This one will be fine, with your company and the meal. I'm here to support you tonight."

Aryia gives a thumbs up, her looking to each person in the room. Her hands motion to say, "I actually know everyone here, surprisingly." The returned compliment makes her smile grow to a proper grin. "Thanks!"

She orders herself something heavy: a red meat dish and a hearty side of vegetables and some wine. Must have been training earlier today. She turns to Strike, curious of this gathering that would require such grandeur, further spurred by Seyardu's inquiry. <Handspeech>

"I think.." Lysos starts, then pauses as Aryia motions.. then she nods. "Yes, I am pretty sure at least this group of us," she says, gesturing to include the sith, the mul and the gnome, "knows a bit of each other." Moving on, she then says, "So! What's tonight about?" echoing Cryosanthia. "No doubt it will be amazing, and surprises are great...."

"Me." Jinks responds in agreement, somehow managing to grin wider. "A decade in Alexandria already? Where does the time go?" It's a good question. Especially from the gnome who vanished for eight of those ten years.

As for introductions? He requires none having inflicted his presence on the small assembly within the general gathering. He gestures at the two wrapped bottles, instead, and explains simply "For you," to Strike.

"This one has known Lysos the longest," Cryo says, smiling, "decades, and has met everyone else more recently."

Strike's smile brightens a touch at the kind words and she bows her head before turning to Seyardu, "I'm sure it will come with practice."

SHe sobers a little, "I'm... turning a new leaf." she tries, then looks to Aryia, "I'm glad you're all doing well."

Ahem, "I... was intending to see if anyone else was going to make it, but..." a glance toward the helplessly shrugging greeter, "It seems this will be a little cozier than all that." A wan smile follows, then a shrug before she pulls up a chair at the table with the others, "I thought I could get everyone together, perhaps swap some stories. Some of this may seem superfluous, otherwise."

She orders a somewhat eclectic mix of items, and a mulled wine for herself as everyone seems to be getting themselves taken care of.

There is a blink of the half-mul's eyes at Jinks offer and she reaches out for the bottles with a surprised, "Thank you." A smile.

She sets them down and starts to unwrap them, one at a time as she begins to explain, "We were built during the Crown Wars, my sisters and I.... but we wouldn't be born until after."

Then comes a peek at the bottle's label, if there is one.

Seyardu isn't sure what to order for a meal. Though she finally finds a fish stew that sounds interesting, so she places an order, and turns her attention back to the hostess, to whom she nods. "There is no rush, you put this together, so take as long as you need before you begin. This one always enjoys hearing stories, so it will be good, when we get to."

"This one, yes, knows some of what you state. Though others are much more versed in the history than I."

"It was soooo long ago," Lysos adds regarding her and Cryo's meeting, grinning as if it's a joke. An inside one, if so. She watches everything; Jinks's gifts being revealed, food arriving for those who've ordered. "So... Strike. A new leaf is when I decided to stop cheating at dice." A pause. "Hypothetically." Ahem. "This is a bit beyond that, I think," she opines, then settles back to listen to the explanation.

As described, a red and a white. Both bottled ten-years ago but from different regions and vineyards. The gnome likely consulted with a sommelier to find a 'good year' while still achieving the temporal parallel.

The gnome sticks to the drink menu, looking for a spirits supper, it would seem. He settles back into his chair and carefully crosses his legs, laces his fingers together and rests them on the raised knee.

The in-joke is shared with a curl at the edges of the whitescale's mouth, and a rare, knowing wink. She looks towards Strike, engaged as professional storytellwer would be. Not so much critiquing as simply enjoying another's style and way of presenting. "I am very curious."

Aryia's eyes wander to the bit of artifice in the room before her attention is directed to the hostess. A new leaf? And... Strike has been in this city for that long? "I didn't know you've been here for so long," the mute woman comments, her tilting her head to the side. She nods in agreement with Lysos. Yes, this did seem to be a large ordeal. And... perhaps a bit of sorrow crosses her features? It felt like there should have been more here to celebrate something as personally important. Whatever it was.

But that only emboldened her to pay even more attention. She was invited after all, she must have been important in some manner to the half-mul hostess. <Handspeech>

Strike gets a little color at Lysos's correction, and she grants a modest, "Perhaps I understate."

She rises from the table to step around the table to the Gnome, extending her arms in a huggish gesture his way with a warm, "Thank you!"

She looks askance toward Aryia's signing and replies, "I've been frequenting Alexandria with my master since we were awakened."

Her attention turns then to Cryosanthia, "I was a War Golem, our master found us inert within the ruins of a lost Forge after he'd excavated it. He modified us to his tastes, and managed to bring us to life."

She gets a little nostalgic smile and adds, "I was the last to earn a name... He said he should have known to call me Strike from the start."

"This one remembers you telling me some of that." Cryosanthia says, listening carefully. She rubs at one of her horns, "I've spoken with some golems about awakening, and... it each tale is amazing."

Jinks quits the chair and stands, going up on tip-toe for the friendly embrace. He turns his head so the cheek without the dangling decorations is the closer lest he become snared. "You're welcome, tallman," he offers, sucking his teeth and humming when he notes some of his makeup come away on Strike's lovely new dress. A wave of the hand and the smudge turns a glowing pink, pulling away like dozens of tiny fireflies and quickly fading from view. He turns and finds his seat, sitting back down and producing a pocket mirror to check his face. Such a dandy.

Karelin is late, but it turns out he can move quietly when he wants to. So, there he is, dressed plainly in a grey jacket and pants, polished boots, and a scarf with Kor's symbol woven into both ends. He's also carrying a black bottle of some sorts, which he puts on the table as he sits down. "Sorry I'm late."

"You were, modified before activation?" Seyardu asks, seeming a bit surprised, and a bit concerned by the concept. "Apologies, this one knows this is likely a good day, I just, it is strange to think about, and I know already the apparent modularity of many things for war golems."

The silver makari turns at the newcomer, and offers them a wave. "Welcome, you are likely fine, and Strike was hoping for more people, anyways."

Now that the story is being spilled.. and while Lysos might be familiar with some of it, her interest is kept nonetheless, along with a grin. And, of course, the food. She is always up for food.. so after getting a look at the menu, and what some of the others order, she makes a selection of her own and settles back for the rest. "I'll be honest.. I don't really know any others," she admits when Cryosanthia explains her experiences with the war golems. "Seen a few.. but even knowing this, it's hard to imagine you different than you are now, Strike."

Aryia dips her head slightly as she gets her wine, listening along. Some information known, some new, others inferred. She had never heard an awakening story though, despite all her years.

A scarred mul'neissa woman in a silver suit jacket and vest cants her head to the newcomer as glowing eyes look them over. She gives a raise of the hand in cordial greeting.

Strike nods, a thoughtful look on her features, "I'm afraid I can't describe the awakening itself. It's mostly complete by the time awareness is achieved."

She doesn't seem to notice, or at least, make an issue out of the smudge, though she is pleasantly surprised as he uses his magic to cleanse it.

She gives the small man another smile and nod before drawing back to her own personal space.

The question from Seyardu prompts another nod as she half-Mul moves toward her seat, pausing to answer, a hand resting on the seatback, "We all awakened to uniquely distinct appearances. We were beautiful... My bodyspikes had a certain artful swept look..."

Ahem, "Pardon."

"Our modifications were more structural than most. It was more than simply dishing out a breastplate."

She shrugs, then she turns her attention to the new arrival as well. She smiles warmly his way and gestures toward one of the tables where it seems everyone has settled in. Her own place is set with two bottles, recently unwrapped, "Karelin, you know Jinks. Bave you met Speaker Cryosanthia?"

A gesture toward the palescale.

"Seer Seyardu." a wave toward the Silver.

"Lysos." a wave to the young woman.

"And Aryia." with a wave toward the Mul'niessa, "Jinks, Ladies, this is Karelin, an adventurer I'd met a decade ago, shortly after my conversion."

"We went down to the Sea together," Cryosanthia says, nodding in Karelin's direction then smiling at Strike. She brushes the air dismissively, "A story for another time, this one would not interrupt yours."

The gesture turns into an invitation for Karelin to join her at her table.

She leans towards Lysos, "this one has become close with Aryia, Jinks and Seyardu recently. I miss adventuring with you." Ah, the follies of her youth.

Lysos's gaze follows Strike's gesture as she makes introductions and points out Karelin. If her eyes widen a little bit at his appearance, can she be blamed? Man looks like he's been through a grinder. Still, she lifts a hand, waving fingers at him. "Bet he's got some stories.." she says, a statement that's rather inane in this present company perhaps. Everyone's got stories. Then she grins at Cryosanthia, dropping her voice so she doesn't draw attention away from Strike, but taking advantage of Karelin's arrival to respond to the white scaled sith. "Do you really? I seem to remember bad things happening to us when we adventured together," she offers cheerily. "Ah. Good timees."

"Everyone knows Jinks." The gnome advises, offering a look of pleased surprise and raising his glass in a toast to Karelin when he arrives. "Tallman. Looking spry," he compliments, omitting 'for your age' and licking his teeth instead.

Jinks turns his head to glance at Cryosanthia when she and Lysos catch up. A little exhalation escapes through his nose that might be an unborn laugh. He tosses back the remainder of his drink and signals for another before returning his attention to Strike's recollections.

Seyardu blinks, and nods. "Decades, is it? This one has known those here a much shorter time, but it is still good to know them."

"If it is not an unpleasant thing, then by the sounds of things. What your master did. And I suppose activation is good as well."

Taking advantage of his age, Karelin had already sat down. Old age and treachery. "Jinks. Cryosanthia." He nods to Lysos. "It's true." He nods to Seyardu and Aryia. Then he looks up to Strike. "The decade's got nothing on you. Looking good in your flesh, Strike."

Aryia gives another nod once more as she's introduced. Her hands move in motions that speak for her. "Nice to meet you," she signs, long, silver clad ears twitching at the hushed conversations. Trying to not listen in on them. It wasn't her place.

Finally, she takes a sip of her wine, letting it settle as the others spoke around her. A small smile crests her lips as she looks to each of them. Ahe was painfully aware of how nice this all felt. She was, for better lack of word, in the moment. <Handspeech>

Karelin looks at Aryia, tilting his head. He fires off some gestures back at her -- different gestures. "What did you say? Didn't get that." <merctalk>

The motions from Karelin flash no recognition across Aryia's face, her blinking a bit before voicelessly chuckling behind a hand and shaking her head with a light smile.

Strike regains her seat in time for her rather eclectic meal to be delivered to a soft, "Thank you." before she looks over her guests again.

She takes in the observation from Seyardu and nods, "It's like a birth, I expect. Such are often seen as a wonderous thing, no?"

She seems slightly taken with the compliment, and she bows her head, "Thank you. If you're going to wake up in a new body, at least everything can line up right." she observes.

The half-mul sighs a little, then, "Sathrus Bul, our master, was, aside from his gifts in artifice, something of a favor broker and merchant of dubious concern for the legalities of merchandise. He would sell to Altima's regime as swiftly as he would to whatever revolutionary cause could scrounge coin."

She takes a sip of her wine, then, "Over time, his rivals, and certain of his business deals would wear down our numbers, until ultimately, a decade past, of us all, only my sister Haven and I remained."

There's a glance to the muddled interaction between Karelin and Aryia and interjects, "Ah, Aryia uses handspeech. She said it was nice to meet you, Karelin. Merctalk has a somewhat different syntax."

It's been some time since he's heard this and, as it goes in this city, there have been no shortages of emergencies, disasters, miracles, and entertaining events in between. Jinks is grateful for the refresher course. He paces himself with the drink and listens attentively, managing tonight to stay awake in spite of sitting still for more than a handful of heartbeats.

"Yes, they are wondrous, and good. Softskins celebrate their births, so perhaps it would be something similarly celebrated." Seyardu offers with a smile, receiving her stew other sides. And she listens as they continue. "Yes, Aryia knows handspeech, there are several of us here who can translate as needed, as she is good to speak to."

"It sounds like things were not the best all the time with them though."

Karelin nods to Aryia. "Likewise." He leans back in his chair, and orders a platter of finger food -- seems like a picking meal. He listens, scarred arms folding across his chest, nodding slowly along with the story.

Lysos makes a bit of a face, like she bit into something unexpected, when she hears some of the things Strike says about her 'master'. Clearly this was a part she hadn't heard, and she isn't much impressed with this brief window into the man's character. "Ah. One of those kinds of masters," she comments. "I'm sorry, Strike." She glances at Jinks, or more particularly his drink. Sorely tempted, perhaps, but she folds her arms instead, settling back.

Cryo laughs, licking her lips, "This one has discovered a truth, the bad things happen all the time. The only option is the company one has for them."

The whitescale is familiar with 'those kinds of masters', or mistresses as the case may be for her. Her tail curls in sympathy and she finds it on her lap.

Aryia, getting her dish of red meat and hearty side of vegetables, gives a light smile towards Karelin, it reaching her shimmering eyes. Her brows pinch at the mention of a master, and not the mentor kind either. She looks to Cryo, a sympathetic look crossing her features as she reaches over and pats the whitescale on the arm.

Strike shrugs a shoulder, sipping her wine again, "He was what we knew, and he treated us, at least, rather well."

She scans her companions's faces and smiles ruefully, "But, this is troubling to hear. I'm.... sorry."

She swirls her wineglass a couple of times, watching the ruby liquid swish around below the rim, then, seems to lose herself in the ripples as her hand slowly stills.

Karelin waves a hand. "It was, and it's a part of you." He uncorks his bottle, and looks around. "Anyone want some Arvek whiskey? It'll clear your sinuses." Because, you know, that's what one wants in a drink.

Lysos looks at Strike, confused for a handful of seconds. A few eyeblinks later, she says, "Strike! You don't owe an apology for that! No one should need to apologize for where they come from." She pushes her chair back, standing. "Please keep telling us about what happened after that... while the old timer here shares his whiskey with everyone." Well, everyone who wants some. Which, when she grabs an empty cup, it seems she is inclined to do. "And Cryosanthia's right.. bad things happen.. best we can hope for is that we're with good company when it does."

"This one is avoiding alcohol for a while." Cryosanthia says, answering Karelin without elaborating further, and nods towards Strike, "This one will listen, I want to hear. Do not be silent on my part. I'm sorry that my sympathy can't help much for what happened in the past."

Her head bobs again, "I want to hear your story. Please, do tell it. You are a friend."

Aryia bobs her head in agreement with Lysos. They were here for Strike, and would hear her out. Though, she /does/ take up the offer on that whiskey, her uncouthly draining her glass of wine and holding it out to in a universal 'fill-er-up' motion.

Jinks can remember a particularly demanding maestro and a lecture or two about returning late from breaks when it was time to practice. He imagines that doesn't compare. Maybe the arcane scripts tutor's attention to minute details. Now there was one terrible hand cramp. But he won't darken matters further by sharing his harrowing backstory.

Even the new-and-enlightened Jinks can't help but turn his lip at the mention of 'Nar-brewed whiskey. He does, however, refrain from relaying any of the number of comments bubbling up from the racist shitcorner of his brain. "No thank you," he manages to tell Karelin, mildly, before having a sip of the drink he holds.

"It is fine strike, there is nothing to apologize for." Seyardu offers with a shake of her head. "We are all just speaking because we are concerned, as friends and acquaintances. I believe that is how it is."

The half-mul nods, smiling a little, "Thank you."

Her eyes lift from the red liquid, so similar in hue, if not consistency, to what keeps the mechanics of life working.

"We were ambushed about thirty six miles northwest what would become Greenholme. There were no heraldry, but the tactics and combat styles were too concerted to not involve some military training."

A sigh, "My sister and I were acquitting ourselves well, though our own supplementary sellswords were over-matched. Haven was separated from us by a wedge charge that crippled my right arm."

Her frown bloowms, grows darker and troubled, "We were trying to coordinate a counter, but... Master Bul and I were surrounded, and, after several wounds to my back, and legs, a greataxe..."

Her right hand lifts and makes a pass across her throat, "My optics faded to nothing, and the last thing I saw was my master's body being shorn through to the waist. My sister's calls to formation..... then..."

She snaps her fingers.

Karelin grins at Jinks, and pours out a shot. I mean, it's not a sipping drink. Also, if there's any peeling paint around, there isn't now. He pours out a couple of fingers for Aryia, a couple of fingers for Lysos, and looks around the table for more. He salutes, and holds it like a high-class snifter, listening to the account of her death.

Cryosanthia listens, her hands on the table in front of her, the food untouched for the moment. She's been in enough battles to follow it, imagine the details left out. It's a little different with golems, but she's seen MAC-B1G and Toha damaged, and listened to the... well her band calls them 'status updates' but she files them under complaints.

Some things are universal.

And a hand is placed over Aryia's, and squeezes in thanks.

She nods slowly, taking a sip of water, holding the glass. What does one say to a death account? She nurses that thought and the water. Aryia pulls back to her chair and nibbles on her food, the whisky a hell of a lot better than wine for this. She ceases consumption as the story grows more somber. And as there is a pause, she holds up her whiskey filled wine glass, and takes a big gulp of it.

The mul squeezes the hand back, and fires off a smile to Cryo.

Jinks blinks at the snap of Strike's fingers, a frown following. He remembers a rather recent personal event. One preceded by far less in the way of heroics. His head tilts as continues to listen and nurse at his drink.

Not meant to sipped indeed. Lysos doesn't exactly slam the drink back.. she's not like that.. but it does get thrown back in short order. Followed by an immediate bout of not-quite-choking-coughing. She waves away looks, though, trying to gesture to Strike to continue... and once she's recovered, she raises a hand, finger pointed upwards and twirling in an upside down stirring motion before she points at her mug again, which she holds out to Karelin. Yep, getting drunk sounds like a good plan when listening to someone basically saying, "And this is how I died."

Strike seems comfortable enough continuing the story with the assent of her friends, though, that does come to a brief pause as Lysos aspirates her drink.

She remains silent, though her eyes are locked on her student with some concern, before she sets about for another round of drinking.

Very well.

Game on.

"I awoke, by estimate a week later" She frowns, and the wine in her glass ripples some as she continues, "I was... in disarray. My first instinct on awakening again was to look for my master, to continue the fight, but when I went to sit up... I felt an odd tug at the back of my head..., and there was an ivory veil blocking my vision." Her hand lifts to gently flick at one of her bangs, "And I saw my fingers, as I tried to part it..."

A sigh, "I spent a great deal of time screaming. A body I didn't understand, awash in sensations unlike, or more intense than anything I'd ever known, before..."

There's a glance off toward the other table, "And when I managed to sit up... my head was staring at me from between my feet." Karelin is, in fact, seemingly willing to facilitate Lysos' drinking. He doesn't forget himself, because, really, it's a death story. It needs whiskey. He nods to Strike, and offers her the bottle silently.

Cryo sits still, and grows a little colder. It's been a while since she's frosted up her environs and she doesn't do so at this moment. She is still causing a current of cold air.

She glances towards Karelin, looking him over, his scars, remembering the clash against himself. Her own battle was more... spiritual. Which is to say, physically laughable but emotionally fraught.

It's very easy for the whitescale to relate. She saw her own head and a complete copy of the rest of her, fight, then die. The shock of seeing one's own inert face is known to her.

"This must have been difficult, Strike. Reincarnation magic is difficult enough when one is a humanoid that already needs to eat or sleep." Seyardu notes, and sighs. "But to wake up feeling so many things, it must have been hard."

"And to see your own body there, as well. But at least, you recovered. This one is glad that you did."

Strike politely waves off the bottle, but remarks, "Once the next phase is over, I may take you up on that." with her lips pressed into an s-curve.

She sighs, then continues, "I found the battle site some time, later, salvaging what I could, but, for him, there was..." her voice hitches some, "Nothing I could do. I had to continue, though."

The considerate words of Seyardu bring the corners of her lips up some and she bows her head, "That's kind of you, thank you. I'm glad to have come to know you all."

to be continued....

Lysos starts drinking
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4ORIIT-W80