The Warrior and the Vardaman
Log Info
- Title: The Warrior and the Vardaman
- Emitter: Braelnoir
- Characters: Braelnoir, Morgan, Cryosanthia
- Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
- Time: Thursday, July 02, 2020, 10:33 AM
- Summary: Braelnoir is sharpening her scythe in the Fernwood when Morgan enters with a pseudo dragon on her shoulder, and Cryo stumbles out of the staff back-room with a lunch and coffee to go. Brae is surprised to see Cryo, and Cryo is captivated by the psuedo-dragon offering to make a nest for it if it comes with her. Gradually, the stories come out, with Cryo giving a summary of what happened in the Fae realm, Morgan contributing also. The sith ends by saying there is a better summary at the Guild, and she dislikes recanting it as it makes her more and more bitter each time. Verna arrives, and Cryo is overjoyed, thinking she had been slain, which she had. Her story is told, then Braelnoir relays what happened to her in the forest with the Witchcrow, the Orcupines, and how she finally retrieved her scythe. During this, Cryo drinks a sleeping potion so she can get some proper rest only to discover her reptilian physiology prevents it.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
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------------------------< Appearing, in Order >------------------------ Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Morgan 4'10" 79 Lb Half-Elf Female Short pixy like half elf with fair skin Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Verna 4'5" 98 Lb Half-Elf Female Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak. -----------------------------------------------------------------------
The afternoon crowd of the Fernwood seems to be in full bloom, as the waitstaff tend to the customers with their usual aplomb. Sat at a small corner table by herself, Brae, sans armor, though she has her weapons' belt affixed at her waist, is currently running a whetstone along the edge of her scythe, while a mostly eaten bowl of stew cools before her.
Morgan comes walking in with a tiny dragon on her shoulder "Yeah, yeah I know you get your own meal, you hagling gecko." said teasingly to it. She then looks around and smiles as she sees Braelnoir "hey beautiful." said in a happy tone.
The door to the kitchen swings open as a white sith-makar walks through. She is wearing a tight ensemble of leather and mithril, with a short skirt that covers a little of her tail so she's not showing off all the time. A matching short cape hangs to her mid-back, with a shiny, satin interior in pale blue. She's carrying a paper bag, a lunch to go, and seems sleepy even though it is past lunch.
"A coffee in a karaft, I'll bring it back." She tells the bartender, making a quick scan of the lunchtime crowd. She didn't notice Braelnoir, which is remarkable considering their friendship, but she has returned to her softskin self, which doesn't stand out as much and the sith-makar isn't expecting her. More startling perhaps, she didn't notice a DRAGON! Or Morgan for that matter. However, if she's going to notice anything it will be the dragon in the room. Failing too, she must be blind, or really tired.
She looks weary.
The whetstone slides along the blade with a particular hiss, and she pauses between strokes at the hail with a smiled, "Hey, Morg, how ya doin, luv?" She indexes the weaapon and starts to adjust it's angle to better reach it before she catches sight of the white sith and the weapon falls heavily to the floor as she upends the chair standing bolt upright, "Cryo!?"
Morgan walks to the table with her friend in tow. She was about to introduce them but looks to the sith mar "you did a all nighter I hope." said in a tune I hope she is ok."
"Braelnoir?" Cryo looks in the direction of her voice, blinking. Her eyes appear to be their same, expressionless selves, but the pupils waver. Perhaps she is having difficulty focusing. Her head turns again, "Morgan?"
Then, "A DRAGON? Where did you get a Dragon! That's not Tanithariairisixchel, there are more?"
Whether she was up all night seems to have been forgotten. Her coffee, has not, and as soon as the karaft appears she heads over to the other two.
Braelnoir only has to hop-hop once after tripping over her chair as she rushes to honest-to-Gods glomp onto her sister, "Yer alright!" She gives her a firm squeeze for a few seconds before she draws back to look her over to verify her previous statement, then looks back to Morgan as the sith's attention turns that way. She thinks for a moment and growls out a draconic <Hello.>
Morgan shakes her head as the dragon introduces him self to Cyro but only she can hear him "No I KlixPheaskawhisper, most call me Whisper, its ok to call me just that." for a psudiodragon he is a bit laid back. Then Morgan says "He is not my dragon he is my friend, and he is conected to my friend Alex at the archan guild." She walks over to where Cyro is but the dragon hops away to a table where he will order his own meal.
Cryo holds the embrace longer than perhaps Braelnoir was going to, finally letting her slip back. "This one is physically. Mind, emotions and soul are another matter. We... neutralized the Mistake. The Demon Duke remains unhindered and unbound, but seems to have gone off to sulk. Mikilos and Kira kept a mortal weapon from him, Seldan was not corrupted and did not break his vows. The plague is cured, it seems her touch is fading."
The sith holds out her hand towards KlixPheaskawhisper, "Come with me. I will build you a nest and we can research books all day, and I have candied crickets." She cocks her hips in a dramatic, falconry pose, arm high and outstretched. Exactly what she said wasn't clear, although a couple of the draconic growlings sounded a lot like 'Candy Crickets'. <draconic>
'Neutral' isn't the same as 'dead', though to be fair, the latter state isn't ending her own dilemma. Brae resolves to leave that be for Cryo to decide on, she knows her enemy better. She doesn't completely break contact, as Cryo lingered on their embrace, keeping an arm about her shoulder as she looks between Morgan and her little dragon.
Morgan takes a seat at her table as the dragon head tilts quickly to the other dragon speaking and he replys "I am under contract with a wizard, but join that silly wizards guild and we can hang out a lot, and I made a nest in the libary there." Morgan says in kind as the dragon does a short glide to Cryo's table "Ok my dear something is wrong with you, and how can we help?" asked in a tone of concern. <draconic>
"Have a Candied Cricket" Cryo pulls a rumpled paper back out of her haversack and holds it out towards Whisper. She keeps a hand on Braelnoir, and guides her into a seat as she sits down also. She makes a small shrug, "I don't know. Hear the rest of the story? The shard Tower heals on its own, maybe mine will too. Maybe I'd be better off forgetting it all. For what it's worth, hear what the others did."
She sets the coffee karaft down. It's not much of a performance, but clearly something switched on, she is a Speaker. "Serene bought them precious time in the Celestial realm, saving Mikilos' life. Duncan... was a distraction. I'm not sure the Demon Duke noticed him. He did not seem to notice me. Malik brought the advice, Seldan the knowledge, and Acedia reminded him to stay firm to his vows."
The whitescale sith grimaces a little, shrugs, "I slipped on the ice and failed to pick up Acedia. Seldan tasked us to go around the Temples, bring the others back. Acedia moved faster than expected, and without me. Every Temple I went to, she had already been. I assured them she would return to bite, as promised. Perhaps they remembered me from all my prayers last week and my requests helped, though I think it more personal vanity."
"The Mistake was trapped in an Ice Prison, dreaming. She found magic items in our plane and used them to work out her frustrations. Some of them may have acted on their own, it wasn't clear." Cryo shrugs again, opening up her coffee karaft and taking a sip, "Mikilos' blood fingerprint freed her. She said she would undo what she could but also she wasn't going to promise a lot, then left when it became clear we weren't going to kill her and the Demon Duke tried to instead."
"I said a couple things I'm not sure I believe because I misconstrued our situation, and... that's it. Mikilos has been in touch with the Arcanists guild and they have a document of what happened, minute by minute, if you wish to know more. I believe he wrote it up before he died, got it to them somehow."
Braelnoir keeps her grip as they go to settle in, her eyes holding to Cryo now as she gives the explaination of what happened. Her eyes lower some and she nods, then return to Cryo's face. So, the decision's been made on that one. Alright. She runs her thumb in a little circle along Cryo's hand, trying to be supportive, though she's never considered it a strength of hers, "Some things stay with you, sister. Most times they sink under the waves." she tries in this new tongue of hers, as everyone seems to understand it. <draconic>
Morgan says "Cryosanthia you need some rest, things are better now and this is not good for you mentaly." said as the tiney dragon gets close to take the cricket and rubs against the dragon ladys hand hoping it comforts her. She nods with Brae and follows up with "I agree with her." she stops there knowing she will Morgan it up and say the wrong thing.
"Well they haven't sunk yet, and I've got a new life. Without Her, without my cihuaa, my foundling, Seldan. It's new slate time." Cryo picks up her karaft so quickly she nearly sloshes it out, but with an expert drinker's skill she catches the surge and turns it into an upraised toast. It must be some bitter coffee, "Cheers!"
The white sith looks around, "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I really want to stab something. Now I know how Sandy feels when she's punch positive. I'll rest... somewhere."
She shakes the paper bag at Whisper.
"I know how that feels, sister." Brae replies, her voice settling into more natural tones under the linquistic challenges of this language she's somehow picked up, even as she rises to encircle her shoulders with both arms once more. "I'll bear your claws, sister, as before." she offers in a more quiet voice next to her ear frills. THere's a sudden blink and she looks towaard the Dragonling, and she nods. A glance to Morgan, then, 'We can do it now, or after you've gotten some sleep.' <draconic>
Morgan says as she looks down to her small friend wondering what he said to Brae "I know of a draft that I can get you that will help you sleep and my dear you need some sleep." there is a tone in her voice that shes seen a lot of bad things in her life. <draconic>
"That sounds great. How well does it mix with coffee?" Cryo looks in her karaft, only a cup's worth left, so she's had two already. She smiles at Braelnoir, "We should go to the Coloseum, you can beat me until I learn to like it. I just wanted too..."
Cryo clenches her hands, unclenches them, "We find she's a youngling, who innocently murdered and tortured thousands because she was premptively imprisonned in ice. More time travel twisty twirlies."
The white sith looks over at Morgan, "You were there, you had insights. For you, what was going on?"
Morgan takes a seat and says as Whisper climbs in her lap "It was lousy from the start. She was imprsoned for something she did not do yet. And now the poor thing has to deal with things beyond her control." she gives the little dragon a pet between its wings "She will be suffering worse then us and the ones she killed with her dreams."
Braelnoir nods, "Probably not well." she observes. She frowns a little at Cryo's phrasing, then, "I'll beat ya till ya'd enough." She draws back just a little bit, questions in her eyes, mostly how to 'innocently' torture and murder... ok, murder is easy, torture takes thought. She pulls herself back from that train of though before she is lost in her Ghisha revenge-porn daydreams. Dreams. Huh. She doesn't like that the great nemesis was a kid, but there's nothing for that, instead, she settles into the path that Cryo's taken. 'Neutral' isn't 'Dead'.
"They put her in an Ice Block because she was going to kill thousands and cause the plague. The Ice Block allowed her to dream, and thus kill thousands and cause the plague. When Mikilos popped her out, she... kind of explained that. The Demon Duke was involved somehow, because of Silvermoon. Blame Silvermoon, I guess." Cryo glares, at nothing, she has the expression.
"Maybe that's why she wouldn't look at me, couldn't accept everything she did to me was real, didn't want to admit it. How she could forget decades? Maybe she felt shame." The white sith snorts contemptuously. "She's gone, He's gone, I'm not important enough to chase down. It's a 'win'. I have to move on, keep moving forward."
Morgan looks down to the dragon "two bags of the crickets if you get that sleeping potion..... ok three." the dragon streches leaps on to a table and takes off out a open window. and Morgan says to them "And the ones that put her in the iceblock set in motion of what happened. Thats why I do not want to know about future me, that will cause more trouble then it should."
"Self fulfilling prophecy." Brae observes with a shrug and reaches for her drink, coffee, this time. It's a little early for beer, "Then we can move on." She rubs along Cryosanthia's back. She looks to Morgan at her words and nods, "There's worse chains, but not many."
Cryosanthia exhales a strong sigh and her breath is visible as a small condensing mist in front of her. She leans forward, elbows on the table, and leans so her back is more towards Braelnoir. "Keep doing that sister, yesssss. Thiss one wishess we had done the scale polishing more, you have none now and the compound was expensive. Now Me would tell Past Self, 'Don't Go!' or 'Polish Silver Scales the window does not stay open!'"
The dragon returns holding a small potion bottle in his claws and places it on the table and then looks at Morgan. She nods and says "Cryosanthia we are going to give you some water with this mixed in it. It will take a few minutes to kick in so we can get you to a bed, and Braelnoir might not mind you using hers." she looks to Brae to answer that.
Braelnoir smiles sadly and nods, "Yeah." she says softly, cotinuing to rub Cryo's back. The women sit at a table with a mostly eaten bolw of stew and a cup of coffee, while a finely crafter scythe lay on the floor beside Brae, who isn't wearing her breastplate or gauntlets at the moment, "Of course, maybe I can help you with your scales, pamper you a bit, like you did fer me." she comments, at first, tor Morgan, then to Cryo as the remark goes on.
"Using the silver polish on white scales comes out all wrong. You would think it would look like marble, white with silver veins. Instead it goes dull and doesn't reflect properly, so I end up looking like I'm smeared in snot and glue. I need to get the white scale version." Cryo explains, remaining in her sloped position across the table. She gestures towards the kitchen, then to the 'Cryo' apron hanging above the bar, "They'll let me use the bed in the back, or Brae's it's fine. I can sleep anywhere. Mix up the drink."
There is no chill breeze to accompany the door opening, no matter how greatly many might wish such, now. Verna enters otherwise quietly, a small tome hovering before her in perusal as she moves towards a table.
Morgan nods and mixes the potion in a mug of water "drink as much of it as you want and you should sleep a few hours. And I know some one in rune that sells sith polish, I will take a portal there and get you some for your colour."
Braelnoir says ""You can use my nest, sister. I meant I could help you groom." She glances over at the door as it opens, nodding some, then glances at Morgan as she speaks, then, hmmm's. She muses, 'Could be interesting to see what's going on, there.'" <draconic>
"You can use my nest, sister. I meant I could help you groom." She glances over at the door as it opens, nodding some, then glances at Morgan as she speaks, then, hmmm's. She muses, 'Could be interesting to see what's going on, there.' <draconic>
Cryo takes up the drink, giving the glass a little swirl to mix it more, then she drinks the contents down. The potion doesn't seem all to taste all that nice, it's not horribly unpleasant, but still takes an effort for her to get it down. She pours and swallows and tries not to let it linger in her mouth long. The empty glss is placed down.
"Sure. A nest with known smells would be nice..." Her voice trails off as she stares at the table and empty glass, then turns to look at whatever caught Braelnoir's attention, "Verna? Verna! You're still living! Where did you go, what happened?"
Morgan looks over to Verna "blessid be." is all she says and then motions Brae to stand next to her just incase she is a light weight with potions like her self is.
Verna settles herself somewhat gingerly into her seat, the tome lowering to rest upon the table. The call draws her attention and her hood turns over it to Cryosanthia. "Good day... I believe. A more correct statement would be that I live yet again." She adjusts her position in the seat. "Death was not nearly as uncomfortable as the situation seems at the moent."
"Hey, luvvie." Brae offers casually then glances between her companions before she finally seems to notice her discarded weapon and scoots off her table long to enough to prop it against the wall, before taking Morgan's cue and moves into a standby position near Cryo.
"Seldan thought you might be slain, but had no luck finding remains." Cryo sits up straighter. She watches Morgan hovering beside her, looks back at the empty potion bottle and glass, then over at Braelnoir. Her gaze returns to Verna.
"There is a record at the Guild of the sortie against Salina, penned by Mikilos I believe. I have explained what I remember a few times, and the bard is failing and each time the dragon rises more. I swear I can feel my horns growing longer, so you would be better served reading that. Endless Winter has been neutralized, she will still kill people as winter but will undo what she can of the other things. The plague has vanished already, other things should change too."
"Interesting," Verna's hood dips in a nod. "I will certainly review the recounting. Seldan wsa made aware of where I intended to venture, though I suppose that the lack of evidence is not wholly surprising. I sought out the fiend, as the only other who would know the village's location. Regretably, he was not terribly inclined to answer my questions and more interested in vengeance upon me."
She closes the tome with a gesture, settling back into the chair, carefully. "He once more boasted that he would take his time to enjoy my demise. I reminded him that his previous attempt ended for more quickly than he claimed and that I barely felt his presence."
"Dragons rising has been a thing, lately." Brae comments, then, in Trade, 'I realized something about those marks after I caught th'plague.... never got th'chance to act on it before... I guess the threat was over.' The un-dead woman's remark over yonder brings a snerk from the silver tressed woman at first, that becomes a full, hearthy laugh, 'Kor's grin, you got brass, girl!' She looks to the bartender, ey, luv, get'r yer best grub and three rounds o'whatever she wants!' <draconic>
Cryosanthia sits, waiting for the potion to take effect, any moment now. In the meantime she looks over at Verna, tilts her head with a wry smile, "There's a dangerous amount of innuendo there. I've never enjoyed his presence even at arms length. I feel like one of those monks, leaping from balance pole to balance pole, wary I land on the tip lest I fall into a forest of shame. So, in his efforts to impress you did the experience last long enough you got to feel the death?"
"Four drinks, I might need a chaser." The white sith looks at the empty glass, then Braelnoir, "What did you find out about the marks?"
"Yes," Verna admits, rather simply, to Cryosanthia. Others are already more than aware of the fiend's large sword and apparent skill with it, so she chooses not to go into great detail. "I never enjoyed his company, and certainly not his unexpected visits. I intend to avoid either." She then acknowledges Braelnoir's offering. "Thank you." To the arriving server, she requests only some mild wine to accompany her stew.
Braelnoir looks to her sister as she ammends the numbers, then nods to the barkeep, "What she said." Then, "Old times, Gods would mark their servants, let'm see through their eyes and, sometimes work certain powers through them. Fae gods were really big on this. Their royalty were worshiped in places as gods, an' they got more juice, the more worship they got. And they each had a particular thing they could do through the mark." The thanks warrant a, "Welcome, luv. Name's Braelnoir."
Morgan sits relaxes near Cry and Brae and listens to the others talk.
Cryo pulls a mithril buckler out of her haversack, and strapped to it is an intriguing dagger. She puts the weapon on the table and the shield on her head and gives both of them a spin. The shield sits on her horn-tips like an out of place hat, and makes a mild scraping noise as it goes around. The dagger, looks like a frozen and sharpened icicle, except it is a dark grey metal with an inexplicable sheen.
"Sounds about right. Catch and release, everyone she marked up that survived increased her power, enabled some-way by the ooze, because she didn't mark the uninfected. Anyone marked was a liability."
She sits back in her chair, leans her head back and closes her eyes. Her breathing seems to slow. Inhale, exhale, very regular. The buckler tilts because of its peculiar balance, falling so an edge rests against the bridge of her snout and shades her eyes. It seems the potion has finally taken effect.
Until she drawls, "Nooooot wooorrrking."
Braelnoir gives Cryo an odd look as she starts to play with her equipment, spending a lot of attention on her new hat as it could well come off in her direction, though as the sith settles in she sighs. Hrn.
Morgan says as she stands "you should lay in a bed and rest you will be out, it might be due to your dragon blood that ist not working
Cryosanthia jolts upright, "I forgot something important!" This launches her 'hat'. The buckler shield goes flying. The sleep potion doesn't seem to be slowing the sith-makar down in any way as she leaps to her feet and lunges, grabbing the buckler out of the air.
She turns to Braelnoir, "Your scythe! You got it back. Lanier said you were horribly cut up. What happened? When did it happened? I should have been there. Tell, Tell."
The loremaster's comment draws her head, "Oh. There is that. I forget sometimes that softskin things affect me differently." Braelnoir bolts to her feet as Cryo does, bringing an arm up on the off chance she's about to eat mithril. As such, happily, does not turn out to be the case, she shrugs, "'member them crows I mentioned?" She shrugs, "Well, me, Kira and Rocky got harassed by one and I went after it. Spend a couple crossbow bolts on it as it led us out to the Felwood..."
Morgan listens to them talk but adds "I am glad I go not have to rely on a weapon and if I lose my spellbook I have 4 others at my home and guild."
"This was for Salina, it's first use was to be special, cutting her. Now I suppose it's special because I didn't." Cryo says, looking at Morgan then looking at her cold iron icicle. "A souvenir of a bad trip, perhaps unnecessary, and I have more weapons besides that one."
The white sith sits, making an awkward smile in Braelnoir's direction. An apologetic one, for having startled her. The human face of her scale-sister confuses her, and her scents have changed also. She nods slowly. "This one remembers crows, it led you? Rocky is doing well? He got the care package? The Felwood is not a pleasant place."
Braelnoir reaches out to scratch at the side of Cryo's snout, "It was a trap, which I figgered as much. I told th'others ta leave if they wanted to, but I had t'go in, it was personal." She smiles oddly to Morgan, somethin in her eyes, "This weapon's special. Only thing means more ta me is in m'ear." she says soflty, whatever's in her eyes darkens a touch, then she shrugs and goes back into the storyteller mode. "Keer and Rock... ahh, they went on in with me. Crows everywhere, and it was a bad spot, natural funnel on a steep slope, plenty of overgrowth and branches t'obstruct visibility. Have ta hand it t'the bitch, she picked a good spot." She reaches out to gently caress the shaft ot eh weapon and goes on, "She taunted me with the scythe, I taunted her about how I killed her last time... Girl talk, y'know." A pause for breath and a swig from her cup, "Well, the crows weren't the main show. Point fer her."
Morgan asks politly "one day tell me the full story I think it will go in to my history of adventures."
Cryo closes her eyes and leans her snout into the scratching. She has thick scales, and is around room temperature, so the sensation of touching her is closer to touching armour than a living thing, unless one has a lot of experience with reptiles. Her nostrils flare a little as she exhales a breath, listening.
"I'll remember what is said and write it down for you, and ask Rocky and Kira, it will be as complete as I can get it. Her story will not be lost. It sounds very dangerous. Lanier said something about quills, that you could catch the plague off of? I will keep an eye out for a gathering of crows."
"I'd like that a lot..." she says softly as Cryo offers to keep Kira's story alive. She wasn't as close to the paladin as her sister was, but she had developed a strong respect for her in addition to the affection that had already blossomed. "Yeah, somehow Ghisha managed to drive some orcs into this place, the plague drove'm nuts, juttin' quills just spitcking out of'm all over the place. Keer... managed ta take one alive, an' we brought'm back fer treatment. Not sure what happened to him after your mission." She finishes off her coffee and, "We had a plan, which went the way o'plans, and we stuck the wrong crow with a tanglefoot, when the real crow drove the orcs up on us. Frenzied, they were. Couple on Rock, couple Kira an' I broke off from the crow ta back them up an' managed t'get a lot of attention. Greatsword I bought worked out pretty well, considering, but I was takin' a beating, an' every time I hit one, I ended up getting more quills stuck in me. I was about t'check out, I know it.... an' just as Kira tried ta heal me, somethin' deep down took over."
"I went wild, not... my natural delight.... no, this was burning, frothing -rage-... Kira tried ta heal me again an I almost swung on'er... she said I grew claws, screamed in Draconic when it happened, but anyway, I went back t'the orcs, just... berserk. There was enough in me ta keep tryin' ta protect Rocky. Then... somehow Sabby and Lan came up from the downslope..."
"Wow." The white sith stares, her gaze growing more intense as the details come out. Painful and harrowing ones she can easily imagine, similar to some of the records she researched, but made worse by the personal involvement, the scent of her sister as she relives it, cues the sith-makar is growing more familiar with.
"A wild rage? Draconic?" Cryo leans in close, her nose against Braelnoir's skin and inhaling the scents there. "You still smell faintly right, like scales. There are changes that can be triggered near death, or this is left over from the transformation pegs. Except... you smell a little the way Merek does, and your transforms had many versions with scales and mythic or demonic features..."
She looks at the two others, "this one wishes to speak privately with her, to get the rest of the story and speculate on things Braelnoir may not wish known by the crowd. Please, excuse us, have a blessed day."
Cryosanthia stands, slipping her shield and dagger away in her haversack, draining her coffee, then grabbing her bagged lunch in one hand and Braelnoir's hand in the other. She leads her upstairs, with the slight detour to get the scythe, and into the korrite's room.
