An Elfragation, the arrival
Log Info
- Title: An elfragation, the arrival
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Aryia, Ashes, Ravenstongue, Jinks
- Place: A01: Western Gates
- Time: Monday, February 21, 2022, 10:29 PM
- Summary: With the Veil gone and Llyranost exposed, a group of esteemed elven emissaries arrives in Alexandria. The Llyranesi are outnumbered by a mercenary escort and make no contact with the crowded onlookers. A few of the city's local notables are on hand to observe and make brief exchange with one of the guards. The broad strokes of recent happenings are explained for those out of the loop. Owls hoot, Pothy snacks, and the world turns.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A01: Western Gates *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The western gates of the city are also called the Phoenix Gates for the carved, marble phoenix whose wings stretch down to form a grand arch wide enough to accommodate several wagon teams at once. The phoenix has been carefully carved. Though age has obscured some of the details, it's clear that at one point it was possible to make out the vanes running down each individual feather. Its fiery eyes appear to follow onlookers and while it seems to welcome travelers inside, there's an implicit warning in its stern gaze to those who might wish the city harm. Overhead, the fiery flag of Alexandria, dubbed Phoenix Rising, flies proudly.
At the base of the gates there's a small lodge to house the members of the Watch who stand guard here, who watch people as they enter and exit and occasionally ask for identification papers.
Inside the gates the ancient facade suddenly looks more modern; a complicated series of pulleys, levers, mana-powered rune plates and the like are attached to huge gates which, rumor has it, can close faster than the gates of any other city thanks to the incorporation of artificer technology.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face. Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The sky is grey-black, moonless and starless. Human eyes can distinguish the snow from everything else, and not much more: every shape that isn't snow-covered is a black shadow. The air is damp and cold. There is little wind.
At the city gates, there's a bit of commotion. The lines into the city are frequently long, especially these dangerous days, and the reality is that rumors have a chance to get ahead of things. Apparently, a convoy from the Greatwood has arrived, or more accurately, a convoy from the lands bordering the Greatwood. People sent to bring things to the city *for the elves of Llyranost, where much has been happening as of late.
Beautifully ornate and carved wagons, pulled by majestic, long-haired horses with meticulous grooming. The wooden wagons are all rounded edge, inscribed with ornate, flowing vines and wrapped in still-living versions of more that seem to almost blend together in harmony.
It's all ridiculous elf artistry.
That said, there's only a few of the elves amongst the wagons, with the rest of the group being human. Seems like hired hands for the few present elves.
Aryia, in her green buckle jacket, is presently one of the many folk peering over the crowds to see the convoy. Though, her peering is actually taking over a wood awning over a shop to where she gets a great view.
Though, she scratches her head. These were... the fancy elves.
She perks up, fishes out an apple from a jacket pocket, and crosses her legs, ready to watch a show.
And then there's a half-elf with violet eyes peering out at the convoy, sort of just wandering close by as she watches a black raven with matching violet eyes fly off into the sky.
A white raven remains on her shoulder, however, and his talons go tip-tap on his mistress's black wool cloak. "Snacks?" he asks politely.
Ravenstongue presses her lips together as she looks at the wagons. "Umm, I kind of doubt it, Pothy. You know those wagons aren't for you, right?"
Pothy stares at her for a long moment before he says in a mimic of her voice, "Why not?"
"Because they're not here for you. Those probably aren't filled with luxurious snacks just for your Pothyness to consume." Ravenstongue looks over her shoulder for a moment, presumably looking to see if a certain blonde-haired elf woman is suddenly about to descend onto her, and then she sighs. "Still, given everything that's been happening... We might as well check it out, right?"
So the half-elf walks a little closer, just to see what's happening. Meanwhile, Pothy keeps on the lookout for exotic elven delicacies.
"WhoooOoooooOoooo?" A eerie, warbling cry drifts across the crowd. It seems to come from an ashen Arvec, who is dressed in tattered grey vestments, and unusually a mithril breastplate.
"I was told there were bodies." The individual who is clearly a Mourner says, to no one in particular. Perhaps she's early.
The office of the constabulary surrenders a rather bejeweled gnome to the black-blanketed night, glancing back past the chip on his shoulder as the door closes behind him. His fine suit looks slept-in and he's both short an overcoat and in need of a comb to run through his hair. There's a pause and a puzzled look around as he tugs at the bottom of his jacket, eyes narrowing through the press at the procession.
Jinks adjusts some jewelry and then counts on his fingers, glancing up at the moonless sky and frowning. What day is today? The gnome's humming is lost beneath the general din of the Phoenix Gate and he takes some time hedging away the worst of the cell grime and digging some crust out of the corner of his solid-black eyes.
The ashen Arvec bumps into the gnome as she moves to wave at Ravenstongue. She nods at him, "Hello."
Working through the crowd she approaches the wagons and stares up at the first human she runs into. "Do you have bodies?"
"...no," says the human working the wagons, giving Ashes a weird look. What a strange question. "Does this fancy thing look like a funeral procession to you?" Arveks are weird. You never know.
Still, the procession moves further into the city, and a few other people have gathered to watch the elaborate elvish convoy.
Some of the guards are looking ... uncomfortable. The city guards, that is.
There's a restless murmur in the crowd. Everyone knows the veil has fallen and hard times have suddenly come at last to Llyranost.
Aryia monches on her apple as her glowing gaze follows the procession. Spying some folks she was familiar with, she rolls off the wooden overhang and falls to the ground, landing on her feet.
She approaches her friends and acquaintance, gesturing outwards to this envoy with a cocked brow, a squinted gaze, and a half caring motion that was strictly Aryia speak for: 'the fuck's all this?'
"It does a little." Ashes responds to the guard, then steps out of the procession's way. She drifts along with it, watching the guards.
There's a flash of recognition in Ravenstongue's eyes as she hears the "whooooo?" call of the Quelynos screech owl. She happily bounds over to the arvek mourner and smiles. "Ashlee! It's been a while. How are you doing?"
Pothy stares at the owl. It has been some time since they last met, and while they are not birds of a shared flock, he gives the diminutive owl a little nod of the head.
"How's the little guy?" Ravenstongue adds on, too, delighting in seeing that the owl has remained with Ashlee, too.
While the avian-named half-elf is distracted with owls, the avian on Ravenstongue's shoulder remains alert--and then he spots Aryia! He whistles to the elf in a little greeting.
The bard bounces of Ashes, taking a step back, bracing his forearm, and wincing. Then Ravenstongue is making her enthusiastic greeting and he half-turns away and shields his ear. There's a closed-eyed moment where Jinks is sorting through his various symptoms of his hangover and deciding if the sum-total equates to a need in stumbling off and void the contents of his stomach... but it falls just short.
"Emissaries from the Greatwood." The gnome answers Aryia, frowning and correcting himself, "Llyranost. If it's Variday... but it should be Eliday." He speaks softer than he normally does and seems more than a little distracted. "The Veil fell." Fingers begin to fish around his many pockets.
"I'm okay." Ashlee answers in monotone, turning to face Ravenstongue. Her little screech owl peers out of the cowl of her hair, yellow eyes gleaming. "WhoooOooOoooo?"
"He wants to know about the Veil falling." The Mourner translates. She might wish to know about this also.
Aryia raises a brow as the white raven whistles and clicks at her. "Hey. I'm pretty good. I highly doubt they're bringing snacks. Probably bad news, and that's hard to swallow."
She looks at the last bit of her apple, glances to the bird, then lightly underhand tosses the last of it, core and all, at him. Free garbage disposal.
She frowns at Jinks. "Oh. Right, that did happen," she motions slowly before reaching into her bag and offering the gnome a waterskin to help with his hard gknocking hangover as she idly follows along the convoy with the others. <Handspeech>
"... I knew taking this elf job would get weird," says one of the human accompanying the caravan says as he's told an Owl wants to know about the falling veil, and there's a talking, albino raven in the audience too.
It's all weird.
"Right, uh. I don't know. All I can tell you is shit got real wild in the border countries. Some elves did help, but a lot of support came from right here. I volunteered for a chance to say 'thank you'."
And also to get away from the chaos along the Greatwood borders, no doubt. The caravan rolls forward, and the polite overseer clears his throat. It means 'stop chatting and do your job'.
Pothy hangs his head a little, a sad little whistle and croak leaving him. Then he brightens a little as he looks back over at Ravenstongue and whistles to her, too.
"Oh, uh... I don't know, Pothy. It'd be kind of rude to just take off, especially since we're surrounded by new friends." Ravenstongue raises a brow before she looks over to Jinks and finally greets the gnome with a smile and a wave.
Pothy looks miffed. An urgent whistle, followed by a more usual declaration of, "Snacks!"
Ravenstongue rolls her eyes. "Pothy, by the time we get back, I'm sure everyone will have left and you'd just get the cake all to yourself when we walk home."
The half-elf sighs as she looks back to the group. "I've been helping a bit here and there with the efforts in Llyranost," she says. "I restored a nymph from the corruption she was suffering. I also killed a corrupted... dire... beaver...? Something like that. There's odd stuff going on there."
Pothy does snatch the apple core that Aryia's tossed and snaps it down, giving the monk a happy little "Thank you!" in Ravenstongue's voice.
"What does the Veil dropping mean?" Ashlee asks, looking at Jinks. She adds, "My Owl wants to know."
All her menagerie does. She wants to know too.
There's a wave to say 'no thanks' to the pugilist's offer just before Jinks is producing a wax paper ball. The twine is pulled and he untwists the tiny bundle, revealing a rubbery-looking bit of plant matter and unleashing the pungent stench of alchemically-treated compost. There's a sucking sound as he puts the thing to his lips and then he's wincing and chewing as he keeps pace with the rest.
The wax paper is left forgotten on the floor and he's fishing out his flask while he chews, his lips going black and his eyes watering. "An enchantment on central of 'true' Llyranost that allowed the elves to hide away." There might be more but he stops to cough, holding the back of his flask-hand up and spattering it with black spittle.
Aryia raises a brow as the guard explains. "I knew it was busy, but not like, that bad over there," she rubs her neck after she gestures. A glance is stolen to the bird, and she cuts him a glare. One that was 'can you chill out with the food'.
She shrugs at the offer being turned down, and she stashes it away in her bag with the other nine there. Yes, she still has them. Though, at the coughing, "... you good...?" she asks on the sly, giving the gnome a concerned glance. <Handspeech>
Pothy receives the look and seems to get it. The bird nods and instead chooses to mess with Ravenstongue's hair, content to unravel her braid. The half-elf doesn't appear to mind.
"Oh, gosh, are you okay, Jinks?" Ravenstongue asks as she notices Jinks hacking up a lung, her brows furrowing in shared concern with Aryia. "Take it easy, okay?"
Pothy looks down at Jinks. The bird seems to contemplate for a moment if he can help, but then Pothy remembers he is not an entity of medicine knowledge, only food knowledge. So, he resumes the process of undoing Ravenstongue's braid.
"Ah, yes. Dandy." Jinks groans, pushing the mulch to one side with his tongue and forcing himself to swallow. His flask squeaks when he twists off the cap and he forces a mouthful down along with whatever alchemical chew he just endured. A black flatworm of a tongue lips matching lips and he sighs a thin puff of steam. "... cure's worse than the disease," he smirks before having a second drink, swishing it around, and swallowing.
here's a pocketsquare in his free hand and he's cleaning the other. "The Veil falling means Llyranost has to join the rest of us in the real world... and it sounds like there's been a few interesting problems cropping up along the way," the gnome adds to answer Ashlee's part of the question.
The ashen arvec nods. She's really only here for the bodies. If there are none, she'll hang around - sometimes they pop up. It can't always be blamed on adventurers. She waves as the procession continues, "Welcome to Alexandria."
Not entirely reassured, but letting it be, Aryia just pats the gnome on the shoulder before straightening up. She cants a head to the side, then nods towards the caravan. "I wonder if the talks will be public," she gestures, starting to lose a bit of interest in this development.
Which.. comes right back, as she points out. "... aaaand we're going to have to deal with whatever shit pops up, aren't we." She huffs. <Handspeech>
"Of course we are," Ravenstongue says to Aryia. "We're adventurers, so naturally, they're going to send us to do the work that the llyranesi nobility won't dare do themselves." Her words turn somewhat acidic at the mention of llyranesi nobility.
She looks at Ashlee and says, with a tad bit of a smile, "But, at least it's work for Ashlee here, and for me, too. I am now in sudden need of funds again."
Her hands curl together in front of her. "Event planning takes a lot of time and it inevitably requires money, too."
The Mourner nods, and one of her ear flicks. There was an important detail there. The motion shakes the thick strands of her hair, alerting her little screech owl. "WhoooOoooooo?"
Perfect. He's saving her the effort of asking all the questions. Of course, it would be better if he had said 'WhaaaaaAaaaaat?' Ravenstongue will figure it out though.
"You don't have to," Jinks tells Aryia with a glance, leaning on the second-to-last word for emphasis. "... but the contracts are sure to be as profitable as ever and you might be the first outsider to see a particular part of the forest in..." he waves a ring-heavy hands around before settling on "many, many years.
"Bring Violet," suggests the gnome. "Tuck her away in a safe place until your work is done and then make an exotic vacation of it. Maybe you can get her travel expenses covered as part of your payment. Imagine the stories she'd be able to tell her friends..."
Aryia rubs her face, a long sigh escaping her. "Might be worth it just for the bucket list," she signs eventually to Jinks. A thoughtful expression crosses her visage, and she bobs her head. "Not a bad idea. I can get behind that, good suggestion."
She raises a brow at Ravenstongue. "Well... I guess if you want to stick it to the elves, that'd be a good way to take their money through over inflated contracts."
She starts to veer off from the convoy, hands in her pockets. "Going to do some... poking. See if I got to get ready for whatever shit is coming. Catch you all later."
And just as they pass by a bridge, the mute steps up, onto, off of, and over it before vanishing over the side.<Handspeech>
Ravenstongue waves a goodbye to Aryia and watches her walk away and bound over a bridge in the stylish manner that only Aryia can manage. "I'm glad she's happier these days," she murmurs to herself with a smile, before she looks back to Ashes' hooting friend. She blinks in realization.
"Right! I haven't told you, huh. Well, umm..." Ravenstongue smiles bashfully, rubbing right behind her neck. "If you remember Telamon, well, we've kind of been courting for a few months--and now we're engaged to be married. It was partially to protect me from more of my father's meddling."
She sighs. "That man left me alone for a while, then I got a notice in the mail that he'd legitimized me as his daughter legally. Then an elf noblewoman's 9-year-old son showed up on my doorstep with a manservant and a signed document with my forged signature stating that we were betrothed to be married. Once that was proven to be fake, Tel and I decided to protect ourselves."
"Oh." Ashlee blinks owlishly at this information. She was spared the vagaries of noble heritage, that fell more on her hobkin friend, Elyanna, and her human friends who also had some convoluted...
She shouldn't share. Not that she is sharing, she is staring and a shifting of a passenger under her clothes reminds her that time is passing. She needs to say something helpful and encouraging. Her old standby leaps immediately to her mouth.
"There, there. Everything will be all right."
She bites her tongue. Lightly. And too late. Her lips purse and she adds, "I'm happy it worked out."
"She means 'congratulations,'" Jinks offers, stepping in figuratively after Aryia's stepped out, literally. "Similarities in the phrases coming from Goblin-Talk." It's probably a lie but the gnome offers it with a casual authority that's gnearly-beyond reproach. The dandy grins with those stained-black lips and lifts his flask in toast before having another drink, "Congratulations, tallman."
The gnome begins humming a tune but catches himself and turns, frowning up at the half-Sil. "Where does nine-years figure in a sildanyari's physical and emotional development?" He tires to remember what he was like at nine and just ends up having another drink. "Still... should've gone along, cuckolded the boy with your actual lover, and lived off his family's wealth." Sniff. "... I think that's a play..."
Ravenstongue offers a smile to Ashlee, always patient with her social awkwardness. "I hope it will be all right, Ashlee," she says. "I've already gotten offers to have security at the wedding to prevent my father or my stepmother from showing up, and we made sure to have a notice published in the Tribune specifically so that they would know."
She looks at the gnome and says, "Well, elves physically mature roughly at the same rate... He was a child. I would have felt absolutely disgusted if I'd gone along with it, and apparently, his family only entertained the proposal because my father allegedly promised to pay the dowry ahead of time. They needed the money on account of the noblewoman's husband leaving the family with a massive amount of debt."
Then Jinks mentions a play. Ravenstongue looks thoughtful, tapping her chin. "You know, it sounds like it /could/ be the basis of a play. I just wish it wasn't my life!"
Ashlee stares at Ravenstongue as she explains. The stories, the suggestion of a play, from her and Jinks have set some thoughts in motion. The Mourner tries to remember if she's ever been to a play. She's read a few, in the magical school that was full of ghosts. They didn't really perform any.
She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, from where it will never escape, and blinks. Her screech owl, does not. She can't think of an appropriate question. Well, she could ask if she's invited, although that opens a huge can of worms.
Witches often aren't invited to weddings and christenings, because curses tend to be laid down when they show up. Although, that's usually when they aren't invited, find out some other way, and show up anyhow. The Mourner is concerned, especially among those of a literary persuasion, that asking for an invitation will trigger some later cataclysm. Or, she might get the unvite.
Ashes hugs her arms across her front and says, "Congratulations."
"I accepted a geas to seek no information pertaining to or contact with my bastard children so my ex-lover would take them from the city during the demon infestation. Aryia, dame Paenitia, and Seyardu had opportunity to know the twins better than I did." Jinks shrugs and smiles in commiseration with the half-Sil. "You father is a low-class parade's alleyway shit but you have someone that seems to truly care for you.
"I won't say 'it could be worse' but the paladina is on a quest to find the saddest soul in Alexandria and I'm guessing she's made no appearances at your door, so..." he winks.
There's a glance at the intense (if quiet) mourner and the Tarienite can't help but quirk an eyebrow, wondering what's going on in her head. "I missed you this morning, tallman. And mourner Verna. I had to offer my devotions from the constables'. Did you light your candles?"
Ravenstongue snickers at the remark about the paladina Dame Paenitia and the remark about her father. "I agree about my father, and I hope his... What was that incredible thing you said once? That his genitals rot off? Anyway, a shame Dame Paenitia hasn't appeared. Pothy misses Ramirez," she says, looking to her pale-feathered friend. "Don't you?"
"Ramirez!" Pothy replies, mimicking Paenitia's way of speaking. Then he hangs his head to demonstrate his sadness. The Order of the Alabaster Avians has not met in quite some time.
Ravenstongue pats Pothy on the head reassuringly. She smiles at Ashlee and says, "Thank you, genuinely. I honestly don't know when the wedding will be, but both you and Jinks are getting invited. You both helped me before, and I consider you both dear friends for doing so. Naturally, you invite your friends to your wedding, right?" It's her way of assuring Ashlee everything she is saying is okay without saying it--which means it might also backfire.
"Yes." Ashlee replies, adding an explanation, "I was delivering soup."
Which is as far as the details go. Her intense thoughts are not shared, even though they may be intensifying. Chippen emerges from her shirt collar and climbs up her hair and crosses her face. He settles on top of her head and looks around. He is scratching her scalp with many tiny, insect feet.
This calms Ashlee down. Best not to ask why insects crawling on her does, although the answer is relatively simple: It's like being buried.
"Thanks." Still monotone, Ashlee faces Ravenstongue and nods. "I haven't seen them in a while." She's not friends with the paladina, but the little knight is hard to miss, or forget, once encountered and the Mourner does a lot of lurking in the shadows. It's a monster thing.
"We make frequent use of the stables outside the north gate of the city," Jinks advises Ravenstongue. "The Defense and Coyote's house aren't bad places to look, either." The gnome smiles and nods at the wedding talk, "If I'm not in Heroes' Welcome I'll make the time to be there. If I am the mourner will make apologies for me."
"Ah," is all he has to say on the topic of soup.
"I'll make sure the invitations get to you one way or another. First, I have to figure out /how/ it's going to happen," Ravenstongue says, a little exasperated. "But, I'm not alone in that sort of thing."
Pothy nudges at her raven-black hair and whistles into her ear. Ravenstongue seems to realize something. "Oh, gods, right. I ought to get home or Tel's going to wonder if I dropped into a ditch somewhere. I probably shouldn't worry him too much--gods knows he's been all in a tizzy about this business with my father."
She gives both Ashlee and Jinks a little wave goodbye. "I'll see the both of you around sometime. Ashlee, I'll let Grandfather know your friend's doing okay; the owl looks really happy with you. And Jinks... If you /do/ deliver on that threat you made to my stepmother a long time ago, let me know, because I think it'd give me the best laugh I've ever had."
"Snacks," Pothy reminds Ravenstongue, and the half-elf walks back in the direction of the University District. After all, there are snacks waiting to be eaten back home.
"Ok." Ashlee says, glad to have an invite, or the promise of an invite. She's heard that many families only get together for weddings and funerals. Her balance of family experiences is clearly on the undertaking side, and often as an outsider. It will be nice to be included in something as a friend.
"He is," She confirms, as Ravenstongue departs. Her owlet has integrated nicely.
The Mourner is left standing with the Bard. She looks at Jinks, "Now what?"
