The Druid has Flown
Log Info
- Title: The Druid Has Flown
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Rumbo, Glasha, Merek
- Place: A04: Theatre District
- Time: Tuesday, August 18, 2020, 7:13 PM
- Summary: The mists like heavily on the performer's square in the Theatre District, so Merek for no particular reason flies over and clears them with a wind wall spell, prompting some cheers and airborne coins for this unique performance art. Rumbo, a goblin wizard with a gun, is wandering through eating some meat on a stick, Glasha has also come to the square to escape the mists or her research of them. Cryosanthia arrives, heads over to Glasha and greets Rumbo as if he was Nels, then aplogizes. A conversation in several languages follows, leaving the sith frustrated in her role as a speaker, as she understands only one of them, so she asks Merek to translate while she performs a song. Finding a spot on the stage and a lucht sil luteist to accompany her, the white lizard woman sings a casual ballad. It's about Vidor Hawfslur, a Druid gone bad who has turned to poisoning Rocs and wants to overthrow the Green Union. At the end of her performance, she announces the content of her song in a slightly more comprehensible fashion, then front-flips off the stage. Glasha has to head out, and that prompts the group to separate.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A04: Theatre District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
At the very centre of this district is an open stage, an area raised a few feet from ground level. The boards polished flat from many a foot trod. It is the home of open performance, any one may do so, a number of street performers strutting their stuff at any given time. Unoccupied spaces given to general lounging.
The district is most known for its dueling play houses and its established, theatrical families. Competition for talent is fierce, well known actors and playwrights are snapped up. The Flightwright and Flame's Hope, two theatres built within a hundred years of each other, exemplify this. Separated by more than ideology, they have had a long-standing, well-entrenched fued between their families that have sucked in various troupes, making them unofficially "at war' since the theatres' constructions.
The buidings possess no single style, expressing a thoroughly bohemian spirit and style across their constrasting architecture. Ribbons are everywhere, gracing the structures with Ceinara's colours. The area contains more than theatres, with artists and crafters of all sorts making their home here, favouring the company and low rent. Barkers on the street corners announce the latest plays, the production choices often reflecting current politics and the tone of the time. Street musicians and caricature artists about, offering performances and portraits for a few coins. Present too, are muses and other ilk, awaiting the attention of the play houses and artists.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Rumbo 3'2" 35 Lb Goblin Male A gun-toting gobber with a wooden peg-leg. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Glasha 5'8" 100 Lb Half-Orc Female Green-skinned, young lady with bleached hair. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The heavy mists continue to shroud and suffocate Alexandria. It's still, warm, the air itself feels damp and everything is grey, veiled by a darkening twilit mist. Yet as the unconventional wisdom goes: If the humidity is rising and the barometer's getting low. According to all sources, the theater district's the place to go!
And some have, the motions of the crowds have dispersed the mists surrounding the open stage, although the side-streets and stores remain subdued and distant. The caricature artists have fled, the air is not kind to their papers and pigments, but the rest of the thespian lot seems to be undaunted. Acrobats, street muscians, mimes, dancers, statues are all busking and making the best of it.
Rumbo taps through the mist on his wooden peg with a dragonspitter spinning lazily around his trigged finger. A wide smile is on the Gobber's face as he looks at the acrobats and the dancer performing in the mist and held up in his other hand is some sort of meat on a stick thing.
GAME: Merek casts Wind Wall. Caster Level: 11 DC: 17 GAME: Merek casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 10 DC: 20
Merek takes the time to put on his dark attire, from the white-black pants to the shirt which he wears, beltcape being adjusted about the waist while he places the hat to the side. He would begin to travel to the theatre district to watch, though when he notes all of the mist, he shifts a spell along, then he begins to lift into the air, while he builds a wind wall, then another couple of them, to begin shifting away the mist. It might not lift it for the whole of the time, still it might take a bit to build again.
The man then begins to perch on what looks to be a little roof of one of the stalls, standing while that wind whips that nice beltcape about.
The head of Glasha's axe glows like a light-bulb mostly so the raven perched atop it can find its way back in the fog. She's come to get something of a break, though if it's from the studying or the fog is anyone's guess.
Rumbo stops walking to watch one particular acrobat flip backwards and, as the mists lift, shoves his meat on a stick thing into his mouth to munch on. Just a regular old gobber-spectator wandered out of GoblinTown.
A dragonspitter always draws a few glances, and one handled in a way it might go off a few more. However, it's being held below the average waist-height, so the concerned stares seem to be only in the goblin's immediate vicinity.
Especially when there is a black and white garbed man, flying above the square and blowing the mist away. That tends to draw attention. Assuming this is some sort of unusual performance art there is some scattered clapping and a few coins tossed upwards.
Any that aren't caught fall to earth and vanish amongst the urchins.
From another street, a white-scaled sith-makar woman halts and watches the mists clear. To most, she's tall with an elegant bearing, wearing a kilted leather skirt, a haversack and some other leathers , also white. To Glasha, it's the lifelike construct she encountered a few days ago, wearing a lot more, and Merek knows Cryosanthia.
She looks over the clearer square, wary from random unsourced spells.
Merek does notice the sith'makar, and offers a light wave, "Cryo!" he calls, then he notices Glasha, and nods that way. He does not know Rumbo, at least yet, though his gaze does note the man, and many of the crowd. With luminescent gaze the man begins to shift along to the floor with ease, while letting all of the coin be for urchins. There's a look to the place in whole, taking in performances with little mist to keep him from watching.
Glasha also sees Cryosanthia and waves to her before also seeing the flying man coming her direction. "Hello, Seer," she says as Merek approaches. "The crowd seems to have enjoyed your performance, at least," she adds with a smile.
Rumbo continues to munch on the meat-on-a-stick thing he holds and holsters his dragonspitter with a roundabout flourish. Something has started to dribble down his chin and the gobber needs a free hand to wipe clean his face so he can keep eating.
"Oh, Merek, it was you. That's good. This one is surprised people didn't panic." Cryo calls back. Perhaps it is the area. Nothing bad has happened here. Well, excepting drama and theater. She returns the half-oruch's wave and wanders her way. She can't fly so she might as well meet up with the Seer there.
Her attention drifts over the stage. She's looking at where the performers aren't, although a few of the acrobatic antics catch her eye. She bites her lip thoughtfully.
Catching sight of Rumbo out of the corner of her eye she waves enthusiastically at him, "Nels! Peace... oh, you're not Nels. This one apologizes." She arrives beside Glasha and looms over her.
Merek looks to the Gobbo when Cryosanthia mentions that name, "Ah, come on, we'll buy you a snack," he offers, as a way to bring him into the conversation, then he nods to Glasha, "Ah, so it seems. You're doing well?" he asks, then he looks to the sith'makar, "It is nice to see you, and I come by the theatre on occasion, it's not the craziest thing, when magic is often used in performance. You're doing well?"
Rumbo lowers the meat-stick thing long enough to speak up, "What is a 'Nels'?" And waving the meat-stick thing around with a wide smile he adds, "Do you mean a 'hot-rat'? They're quite good." Tap-tap-tap from the wooden peg-leg and Rumbo has wandered closer to the group discussion. <goblin-talk>
"No worse than I was when last we spoke," Glasha says to Merek. She looks down at the goblin. "The shooter," she says, taking a step back. "You keep that thing put away," she says, firmly.
The whitescale makes a small curtsey to the Seer as he closes distance. "Yes Merek, this one is fine. The hide this one was working on turned out well. Your presents are with me and one may be put to use."
She turns to look at Rumbo, inclining her head, "This one doesn't understand. Please be careful with your device, some are made nervous by them."
She remains near Glasha.
Merek looks then to Glasha, "I've set up, we can ask the questions of Eluna that you wish when you are free, eventually. I tell you, so that you can prepare them," he says, then he looks to Cryosanthia, "I'm glad, I like what I make to be put to use," he says, while he crosses both of his arms. The Tinker, who was an artificer, looks to Rumbo, then he switches to Goblin-Talk.
Merek says "Yes, best to put it away, though the craftsmanship is quite nice." <goblin-talk>
Rumbo frowns as he glances down at the dragonspitter in his holster. Then looking back up around the group he tries a few different languages...
"Oh, that's--" she says toward Merek, then is interrupted by the cryptic and confusing blabber that gobbers generally speak. She looks like she's lost a couple sanity points trying to decipher it. "What did he give you?" Glasha asks Cryosanthia.
Rumbo says "Is Yrch better?" <yrch-speak>
Rumbo says "Or the Dragon tongue?" <draconic>
Rumbo says "Even Khazdul is easier to conjugate than the Tradespeak." <khazdul>
Glasha shakes her head toward Rumbo. "No I--" she tries. <yrch-speak>
"If you please, the--" Glasha starts. <draconic>
"Stop it!" Glasha blurts. <khazdul>
Glasha concludes, "Speak Trade-speak. It doesn't matter if you're not great at it, it's polite when in a place to speak the language of the people there."
"This one knows Dragon tongue." Cryosanthia replies, then asks. "Is Tradespeak known to you?" <draconic>
Looking down at Glasha, she reaches back into her haversack and pulls out a tambourine. It seems to have stury construction with some tribal decorations and draconic script around the edges, "A musical instrument. Also a toy, which this one is saving for later."
She exhales, looking at Merek, "Perhaps you can translate, tell him he has an interesting book. This one wants to get to her performance."
Glasha perks up. 'Book?' she asks. She looks at Cryosanthia. 'What book?' She looks at Rumbo. "You have an interesting book?" <yrch-speak>
Merek looks between the three, and nods a bit, "I'd like to watch the performance." Then he notes to Glasha, "I like to make trinkets for folk, especially because I make wondrous things," the man admits, looking to the Gobbo.
Merek says "She said you have an interesting book, also I know most of the languages, thought Tradespeak's easiest for folk." <goblin-talk>
Rumbo still frowns when he glances to Glasha and speaks up to the trio. "Not for me," he says exasperated, "I sound like a dimwit and nobody understands me. I understand it enough, I believe, it's just hard to put the right words together."
The Gobber glances again to Glasha and asks, "No one is forcing anyone to speak Gobber. It seems everyone can understand Draconic so, if you don't mind, I'll speak that?"
Only then does the little green gobber smile to Cryosanthia, "Do you mean my spellbook? It's very nice but I trouble a little to bring it out.. I might get shouted at for handling something that other's might consider dangerous. Spellbooks can blow people up you know... even if glowing axes can chop people's heads off or the torches people juggle can set things on fire.. but no one mentions them." <draconic>
Rumbo still frowns when he glances to Glasha and speaks up to the trio. "Not for me," he says exasperated, "I sound like a dimwit and nobody understands me. I understand it enough, I believe, it's just hard to put the right words together."
The Gobber glances again to Glasha and asks, "No one is forcing anyone to speak Gobber. It seems everyone can understand Draconic so, if you don't mind, I'll speak that?"
Only then does the little green gobber smile to Cryosanthia, "Do you mean my spellbook? It's very nice but I trouble a little to bring it out.. I might get shouted at for handling something that other's might consider dangerous. Spellbooks can blow people up you know... even if glowing axes can chop people's heads off or the torches people juggle can set things on fire.. but no one mentions them." <draconic>
"Rrr... yes." Cryosanthia says, "It is a pretty spellbook." <draconic>
She exhales, tightening the straps on her haversack and making sure it is closed properly. The tambourine remains out, and it's passed around her body as she does things with her hands, at one point her tail holding it in place.
She looks at a small notebook she has, purses her lips, "Well, these lyrics won't work well in Draconic, but noted this one should sing in other languages perhaps."
In answer to Glasha, she gestures at the spellbook she spied earlier, the one with a Golden Cockatrice on the cover. "I'm going to find someone who can do strings, then do my routine."
The white sith slips away, mounting the stage and looking through the performers there.
Glasha nods to Cryosanthia and says, "Okay." She then looks toward Rumbo and asks, "Who made that book? May I see it? Are you a wizard, then, somehow?" To Merek, regardless of Rumbo's answer to her question, she says, "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to give me things. I may even someday be able to return the favor. I'm learning how to make magical items, myself." <draconic>
Merek looks then to Glasha, and nods a bit, "If I make anything you might like, I will see about it," he offers, then he watches while Cryo would begin to look into the performers, along with checking to see what the Goblin was up to.
Rumbo replies before he finishes off the meat-stick thing he has been holding "It was bound in Blod, I believe, though that was some years ago now. And yes I am a wizard." With a final bite the gobber's sharp teeth strip away the meat leaving a thin stick in his hand and he munches contentedly. <draconic>
Glasha looks to Rumbo and waves her finger around. "Then what's with the...thing," she says, either refusing to or not knowing what to call it. "I'm a book-binder. I'm very interested in looking at your spellbook. Possibly trading spells, too, if they're not dependent on guns to make them work." <draconic>
Merek nods a bit to the two, while he watches the stage, not having a lot to add with that whole conversation while he thinks about it.
Having now finished off his snack, or perhaps meal for someone so small, Rumbo sets the stick down and brushes his hands against his trousers. "It's what I do. I was a Feuerwerker. I've been making these in a few cities." As he speaks his slips the dragonspitter out of the holster with a twirling flourish, spins it around his trigger finger while smiling, and slips it back into the holster in one smooth move. "And asking me that is like me asking why a book-binder has such a massive war-axe!" <draconic>
Cryosanthia moves through the performers on the stage, looking for someone with something stringed. She locates a lucht with a lute, who seems agreeable. She goes over the major and minor beats with him, and shows the lyrics from her notebook.
"Okay, I'll need something that is good for ballad-singing, repetitive beat. 'Daaaaaaah, dant dandanant daaah, dant dandanant dahhh, dah da da daah.' I'll manage the percussin."
The lucht nods. Cryo concentrates, and her clothing adjusts, clackers forming on her hips. Taking the tambourine, she taps out the rhythm she vocalized, "Got it?"
The lucht sil nods again.
Glasha smiles and pats the masterwork item with pride and nostalgia in her eyes. "My mother helped me, but I made this. It was a winter project when it was too cold to go camping. We spent every day in the forge, though putting the whole thing together was a pain." She looks back down at Rumbo. "She taught me how to use this and a sword thing, but when she asked what I wanted to make, I picked this." She gestured up the axe-staff at the raven perched atop it. "Luna sits on top of it a lot," she says. "Couldn't do that with a falchion could you?" Luna let out a raveny sound. <draconic>
As Cryo's performance starts, Glasha stops and watches.
Rumbo turns his full attention up onto the stage and watches with a smile.
Merek would nod a bit to the folk that are talking, while he focuses upon the stage, then he begins to adjust that scarf while he settles about, looking to the two, "Looks like it will be a fun performance."
Cryo starts beating the tambourine, and at the same time swaying her hips to lay down the beat. Her tail thumps the stage as the major beat, leaving her clackers and tamborine to produce the others. On top of this, the lucht provides string accompanyment, lending a cadence to her words.
The sith starts singing, her words flowing easily.
There, once was a druid,
Or should I say, he wanted to be
He wanted a Roc
Isn't it good, Druids are so good?
Glasha listens to the song and...just...kind of looks confused. "Maybe it doesn't translate well," Luna suggests.
Merek listens along while he watches, smiling a bit. He nods, "Ah, I think it makes a little bit of sense, though, I'm thinking that it's about a mission posting in the Guild."
Rumbo nods.
Cryosanthia keeps singing, and performing her percussive dance. It's not much of a dance, in some ways her performance seems muted. Perhaps she's unsure, still, she continues loudly with more verses.
He asked the Union
And they told him they wouldn't comply
Rocs are too large
And an exceptional challenge to fly
He screamed and he raged,
Petulant child
Don't deny me and then they said
"No to your pledge"
He told them he planned
His revenge and started to laugh
They told him, "Vidor,
Hawfslur, relax, go have a bath"
Glasha shakes her head. "I don't get it," she admits.
Rumbo nods, he doesn't appear to either.
Merek nods a bit to Glasha, then he keeps watching, while he smiles a bit along with that.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perform/dance: (13)+17: 30 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perform/sing: (13)+17: 30 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perform/percussion: (11)+17: 28
The white sith continues, swaying and singing. While neither the lyrics nor the music is particularly gripping, it does have a certain hypnotic quality. It's almost nonsense, but still catchy in a way.
And now it would seem
He's achieved his dreams
Embracing the dark
Isn't it good, Druids are so good?
She finishes with a call-back to the first verse, keeps tail-thumping a little longer as the music dies down. Finally she flicks her left hand. There's a glow, barely forming under her clothes that cascades down to her left hand. She gestures around her mouth, then speaks, and she's loud. As if there are sixteen of her.
"Everyone, I'm not sure who this information may help, but there is a Vidor Hawfslur who has become an evil druid and acting against the Green Union, and there may be others with him. If you are adventurously inclined, inquire at the Explorer's Guild." From afar, Elleandra hugs
Glasha blinks a bit. "Did she just--" she starts. "Against the Green Union? What's the Green Union?" She looks to Merek. "Is this above my pay grade?" she asks.
"The Green Union are the Druids that follow the faith," Merek mentions, with a nod a little bit to Glasha in thought, then looking back to Cryo with a little bit of applauding.
Rumbo claps politely.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls acrobatics+5: (11)+14+5: 30
The sith's performance didn't draw much attention, though her very loud announcement did. Still, the song seems to have worked it's magic and created an ear-worm that might keep the rest of the information in the song alive. A few people are repeating the almost-chorus of 'isn't it good, Druids are so good?'
Some coins are thrown her way, which she pockets a few but hands most of them over to her lute player. Making a few bows, she forward flips off the stage and lands gracefully, then walks over to Glasha and Merek.
Glasha puts a hand on Merek's shoulder. "Contact me at the Arcanist's Society," she says. She looks down at Rumbo. "And you--" she says. She pokes the spectating goblin a couple times. "Hey, when he comes out of it," she says to Merek again, "tell him to find me. We'll talk spells and magic and whatever else." She waves to Cryo. "Wonderful song," she says. "I fear I must go, now. Be well. We should find each other soon. I would hear of this threat to the druids of the Green Union." Glasha doesn't stick around, however, but walks backwards. "I'm afraid I must dash, however. It was nice to see all of you. Bye!" She turns and begins to briskly walk out of the performance area.
Merek nods a bit to Glasha, "You be well," then he offers a smile with a nod along for Cryo.
"Thanks," Cryosanthia says, still rattling. She seems like she's concentrating, but the clackers remain on her hips. "Well, don't know if that helped. I guess I need to pass this information along to the Society for Progressive Anarchists. Let anyone you think my care know Merek, I know you're not adventuring again, but it's possible there are a bunch of other druids that will cause a problem."
She slips the tambourine into her haversack, curtseys to the seer. "Good luck with your day, I have these tasks to get to." She looks off in the distance, about to leave.
Merek offers a nod to Cryo, "I do when I need to, either way, I will inform folk, thank ya." He then smiles, while he offers a wave. "Thank you, it was a wonderful kind of performance!"
The whitescale lizard woman grins, accepting the compliment, then waves and bounds off like she's much younger than her actual age. Each strong step makes her hip-clackers sound and the rattling noise is audible long after she's out of sight, betraying her route through the streets.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "It's a filk of the Beetles' 'The Bird Has Flown'."
Dramatis Personae
Cryosanthia
For those who have known her, Cryo is older, much older. Gone is the light on her feet, heavy in the fray, whimsical lizard girl. There is no trace of the fading youngling features which betrayed her youth, her lithe build, her playful exagerated expressions. She looks like her mother might, bigger overall with larger horns, more scale plates, a stronger keratin crest and fearsome talons. Even her gory tattoos have vanished. The Cryo you knew is gone. In a seeming instant.
For those who meet her afresh, Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She wears a white layered robe, cut for her species, with shimmering blue piping, highlights and whorls. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.
For those who know the story, Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She is a lifetime older, but a human lifetime. Still young for a sith-makar, she has centuries to go. Cryosanthia grew into herself under the fae Queen and is the only one to return with memories. These are, sadly, disrupted and Cryo struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.
Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar.
Rumbo
With pickle-green skin, those big pointy ears and his wiry physique Cogz Rumbo is indubitably a gobber. He is barely more than three feet tall and is as thin as a twig. A wooden peg has replaced his left leg and supports him whenever he hobbles about. Apart from the prosthetic Cogz Rumbo is quite plain with only a few small warts decorating his broad face. Beady yellow eyes are set to either side of his small nose and he has a wide mouth filled with sharp teeth.
Cogz Rumbo is wearing an old coat of thick blue wool that has been cut snug to his body and has tails that hang knee-length. Aging yellow lace has been added to the cuffs and the square collar that sits up around his skinny neck. He has a mustard yellow vest beneath the coat and an old maroon ascot fastened with a copper tie-pin carved in the shape of a cockatrice. High waisted trousers have been altered to accomodate his wooden peg-leg and he wears a tall leather boot on his right foot. A battered blue tricorne hat fringed with aging yellow lace rests on his head at a jaunty angle.
Carrying:
A leather-bound spellbook decorated with a Golden Cockatrice
Merek
This man stands at around five foot ten, while he has a lissome and a somewhat muscular build to his form, and also skin which is dusky in tone. The male has smooth hair which comes towards his chin, the color which is like midnight and sable, although metallic-like tones, have been fashioned within that roguishly unkempt mane. He has eyes much alike a golden amber, catlike within look also.
He wears black attire which is decorated with golden tone. He has on an amulet of the Moon Maiden, Eluna. The boots which he wears are adjusted about both of his feet, while he has a cloak that is the same color of his attire, which has been placed about his frame. He has on his gloves, that are made with material which is sleek. He wears a nice desert scarf which is adjusted about him also.
Glasha
The camoflauging effect of green skin is ruined on this particular woman by platinum-white hair cut in a layered bob. Her round face has surprisingly soft features. Her nose is a little wider than a human woman of the same height, and is pierced, a silver ring hanging over her upper lip. Her lips are fuller than many Oruch's, but they part for short, stubby tusks that balance out underbite and overbite with a pair of broad incisors. Her form is fit and her arms and legs are more thickly muscled than average, though they are also soft and retain their graceful curves, more like a strong human woman than the bulging muscles of an Oruch.
Her clothes are relatively simple. A black, sleeveless dress hangs down to her mid-thighs, belted around her waist. Below it, a deep blue skirt takes over to just above her knees. The rest of the way down is covered by soft, leather boots. Around her shoulders is a lacy, brown, knit shawl with a skull motif. All in all, she's dressed and holds herself like a lady, and not a savage.