Horns Are Not For Gnawing

Log Info

• Title: Horns Are Not For Gnawing
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Aelwyn, Eztli, Murder
• Place: Temple District
• Time: June 10th, 2022
• Summary: Skielstregar is still covering (mentally) from the near death experience with undead, and is relaxing next to the fountains to get his strength back. Aelwyn and Eztli greet and check up on him before Murder ambushes Aelwyn and chews on his horns. The Dragoon shares some sharp words, and gets a kick in the knee in return before the gobbo runs off. Eztli and Skiel tell Aelwyn that he should apologize, and seek an apology.

Temple District, Noon.

It's such a nice day out. The sun is shining, the breeze is kind, and the sun doesn't bear down too rough. Though, it's hard to enjoy such weather when the temples themselves are awash with normally cloistered clerics and prideful paladins in preparation of the alarm for wights and all the undead that come with it.

One such victim of the undead scourge is that of a silverscaled sith-makari. He sits at one of the benches near the fountain, the normally reflective scales are a bit cloudy, and his shoulders sag with a fatigue. He's bereft of his armor and armory, save for a black stained halberd that he holds with the butt stuck in the ground, hands wrapped around it and using it to lean against. He tugs some at his brown tunic, rattling his holy symbol in the process.

A sunguard is idly keeping an eye on him from the distance.

A tired sigh makes a plume of froze air spill out like a cloud of fog in front of him.

Amongst all the bustle of people of religion and stern defenders of all the living was a polearm, a glaive with a fluttering ribbon of red. It's owner, a ruddy scaled sith, was calmly striding his way along the crowd, chewing on a piece of fruit. The little fluid spilled down his bared scales with each of his sharp toothed bites.

It doesn't take very long to spot the certain, far taller and larger, sith-makar amongst the crowd. The red-decorated draconian adjusts his step, until he is standing nearby the bench. "Silver, may the nest be of peace." Aelwyn greets with a bow of his head, then takes another bite of his fruit as he straightens. He gives the other man a long look in contemplative silence, before he stuffs away his meal into the bag resting on his rump.

"The weather does not seem to have been kind on those scales."

Skielstregar's eyes open as he's being addressed, his large head lifting. "Ah... Purple," he rumbles quietly. A little laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head. "This one wishessss it wasss the weather. Peassse on your nesssst."

He shifts a bit, leaning back and pulling the ink-stained halberd closer to rest beside him. The larger makari looking like he just broke a fever, and only just now able to move around, albeit slowly. "How are you... sssettling into the sssof- er, Alexandria?"

Aelwyn wanders a bit closer, giving a longer glance towards the polearm. "A fine arm, but a surprise it is the Silver's chosen one." Then the Dragoon grins with his split-cheek smile. "Perhaps we should dance together one day."

The far shorter sith-makar then takes in a deep breath. "The streets are strange when one travels them alone, but the coin has been gentle." He reaches behind him and then offers the silver scaled fellow a fruit. "Need a bite?"S

If there was anywhere safe, or safer, to wander during a wight infestation, it was probably a large temple district far away from the gates of the city. So, in terms of places to enjoy a nice and sunny day with less worry, it was high on Eztli's list after all of the rain.

A small makari wandered down one of the many paths leading into the plaza, looking around at the sights and sounds, half curious, and half a remaining lingering worry. It certainly didn't help when she saw Skielstregar looking more than a bit under the weather. The small makari picked up her pace until she was nearly in front of both of the makari, where she clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward. "Peace on your nests, Skielstregar and Aelwyn." She greets. "And it looks like you need some peace Skielstregar. You don't look like you're doing so hot, what happened?"

The halberd's steel is stained black, lines moving through the striations like a glob of ink seeping through the veins of paper. It drips at the blade tip a midnight miasma that wafts away before it hits the ground.

Skielstregar bobs his head. "Thisss one enjoys it greatly. They prefer spearssss, and thisss one hasss found thiss weapon has enough weight behind it. Perhapssss we can when thisss one is.... hale."

He can't help but perk up slightly. "Ah. Thisss one graciousssly accepts," he hums, taking the proffered fruit with a hand.

He unceremoniously tosses the whole thing into his fanged maw, crunches down on it with one-two-three chomps, and it's gone!

A happy rumble rolls in his chest.

Then, a small, familiar figure wanders in. He glances to her, then awkwardly shifts on the bench. "Ah... peassse on your nessst Eztli. Erm..."

He takes a moment to find the (least worrying) words. "... thisss one had a clossse call with an undead," he answers slowly. Nods to himself, then adds, "This one is recovering well. Worry not."

Aelwyn looks at the big fellow chomping out the fruit like that. He twists his lip, briefly stretching out his own jaws in ponder- nope, but he grins afterwards. "Perhaps Silver will have better taste for these." The draconian offers the last few of the fruits he carried.

Laying his own glaive against his shoulder, Aelwyn turns around to regard Eztli. Bowing his head, he greets, "Spellcrier. May the sky be gentle on you." He raps his fingers across his spear while he listens to the conversation. His eyes kept turning towards the big black halberd.

The ruddy scaled sith glances towards Skielstregar. "How close of a call?"

"Closse callss with the undead aren't exactly in sshort ssupply thesse dayss." The small makari sighs. "At leasst it wass a closse call, and not worsse."

"Well, I probably don't wissh to sspar with either of you, that ssounds like a recipe for dissasster in the making" Eztli chuckles. "Good day again Aelwyn. So, if you've got time to resst, that'ss a good plan. Ssorry, I don't have any fruit to offer myself, but it looks like Aelwyn hass you covered."

The halberd sits there. Menacingly. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Skielstregar doesn't decline the gift, him taking the fruits and placing them on his lap. "Thisss one thankss you," he bows his head, idly rolling one around in his hand.

The question makes the silverscale look to the side. "... close," he evades, thankful that Eztli doesn't press it.

His attention goes to the small-scale. "Perhapsss it would be interesting to watch?" he offers. "Sssometimesss thisss one learnsss a thing or two watching the Shama- err... magesss do theirs magicsss at the college. Perhaps the reverse is true?"

Aelwyn nods his head towards Skielstregar. "Of course. More can be delivered, if the Silver needs." He rolls his shoulders as his name is repeatedly mentioned, but he leaves it as is, instead trying to divert his attention from the spear.

"It would be a performance, I am certain." The Dragoon grins from ear to ear, quite literally. "It has been too long since this glaive has met one of its own."

But, the ruddy scaled sith-makar does sidle closer towards Eztli, and he quietly asks from her, "How dangerous is 'close'?"

"Well, it's hard to sspar with a weapon when I don't have any on me. And I can only mess with my clawss for a short amount of time, so I wouldn't even be able to work up a decent ssweat." Eztli chuckles. "It'd jusst end up with me getting whacked over the head with the flat of a blade until I get knocked out or bow out, sso maybe not."

"Closse meanss not dead." The small makari shrugs to Aelwyn. "To what degree, I don't know. Doessn't sseem like he wantss to go into further detail, and to be completely honesst, I don't blame him in the sslightest. I know that well enough."

Skielstregar shakes his head slightly. "It isss well. The Father's temple hass done well to provide for thisss one," he gestures with the fruit towards Daeus's temple before munching and making that one vanish similarly to the previous one. "It would be an interesssting show, yesss..."

The side conversation is missed as he eats another one, him cleaning up with the collar of his tunic. "That isss why thisss one suggessted you watch rather than participate, Eztli," he chuckles weakly.

Aelwyn nods his head towards Eztli. "Then that is how it is." The draconian straightens and grins. "Spellcrier is being too modest. The words she spoke, would make any softskin sweat."

The ruddy sith-makar nods his head towards Skielstregar. "That is well of the Temple. How long has he been recovering? The fruit seems to have brought up the Silver's appetite." He twirls his glaive in his hands. "Ready in no time?"

"I'm not being modesst, I'm being rational." Eztli laughs. "I'm not going to beat a trained warrior in a ssparring match, and any magic I could usse wouldn't be ssafe. But, you know, could be fun to ssee a match, yess? Would be interessting to ssee between the two of you."

"My magicss should make people ssweat, though. If they aren't, the flamess simply aren't hot enough."

Skielstregar rolls his shoulders, dead silver eyes resting on the creepy black halberd beside him. "The body isss ready but the mind needs a few more days of ressst," he admits honestly. "Thisss one was healed yesssterday, and hasss been assleep from dusk to about an hour ago."

Back to Eztli, Skielstregar quietly chuckles. "Thisss one would like to sssee sssuch magicsss. Perhpass thiss one can learn sssomething from it when they ussse their own."

Aelwyn tilts his head towards Eztli. "Spellcrier's flames would be an impressive challenge to dance to. Surely a sight." A brief flash of teeth at her, before he turns towards Skielstregar. "The sky must have blessed Silver's recovery with this weather. Staying in the temple?"

The wee Gobbo wanders out of the Temple of Angoron, with fresh bruising on her face and other exposed areas of skin, and bloodied knuckles indicating a recent, enthusiastic sermons.

Murder ambles aimlessly until she spots a certain ruddy-scaled Sith. She attempts to keep people and things between her and Aelwyn. Til she's close enough to climb up his back. Where she gnaws upon one of his horns.

"Doessn't ssound or look like you're fully recovered yet, yes. Even physsically." The small makari chuffs. You need more resst and time to recover. Don't worry, The ssparring can wait, and it ssounds like fun to ssit in on!"

"Well, I would have to make ssure it was relatively ssafe. But that would be interessting, too."

Then a small goblin climbs on Aelwyn and gnaws one of his horns. The small makari blinks. "I take it you know them, and that is not a random goblin trying to eat your head I hope?"

Skielstregar bobs his head, finishing off the last of the fruit. "Yess, for the time being until thisss one isss hale once more. They hope the sssky keepsss itsss blesssing."

He waves a hand off to Etzli. "Mind and body are linked, hence why this one will not exert until they are ready."

The recovering silverscale turns back to Aelwyn- He blinks, winces at the sight, then glances towards his wicked looking halberd.

Aelwyn listens in on the conversation from the side, oblivious to his impending doom. Up until there is sudden clambering and a pair of teeth on his straight, upward pointing horns. "Shorty." The Dragoon states, staring firmly ahead. "Drop." His clawed hand reaches behind him and attempts to grasp the goblin off his back and hold her at an arm's length.

To Eztli's question, his orange eyes give a very, very weary look. Not to mention slightly bothered. 'Slightly', as one can be with their horns being gnawed off. "Don't encourage."

The Goblin pauses in gnawing to peer at Eztli and SKielstregar. She frowns, and pulls her teeth from Aelwyn's horn. "Slightly?!", she says with a huff, her hands coming up to grasp his horns, as she clings to his head in an attempt to resist being pried off.

"Hmmph, and here I was to give you your allowance and everything. And you're one to speak, Shortstuff. The silvery one is like, a proper sized Sith."

"It takes a while to grow those horns, you know." Eztli huffs. "They don't just fall off every year like a deer or moose."

The small makari blinks, and chuckles quietly. "Well, I guess you do know them, then. And I am short, so what? Even if Skielstregar is normal sized, if not a bit taller, doesn't change that much. And I'm a bit offended to be called short by a gobber."

Skielstregar chuffs through his nose, a twin gout of frozen air spilling forth in front of him. "Thisss one isss rather big for their kin," he mentions. It's true, even him sitting is still towering /over/ Eztli, let alone at eye level with Aelwyn seeing as the big silverscale is hunched over in fatigue. "Kin come in all shapesss and sssizesss."

He looks to the Dragoon. "You know thisss one?" Dead eyes flick up to the gobbo latched onto their be-ribboned horns.

Aelwyn flinches at the size being discussed, but he grunts all the same. "Yes, we have met." The sharp clawed fingers continue to attempt to grab the goblin on his back. "Shorty will stop moving." The ruddy scaled sith was displaying an obvious sense of calm and focus behind his gritted teeth. "What cursed allowance?"

Breathing in deep, the Dragoon takes a slow step back - and suddenly flings his head forward, bending down at his hip, in an attempt to smack the goblin down. The tips of his horns graze the stone audibly.

GAME: Murder rolls acrobatics: (10)+14: 24

Murder grins toothily at Eztli, and shrugs. "Was talking to this one, mostly.", she says, prodding Aelwyn's head with a finger. "I thought Makari had thicker skins than that."

Shrugging again, she stares at Skiel. "Sure. But your kin tend towards tall and well built." Her grin brightens. "At least from my point of view."

The Gobbo frowns again, "Met? That's it?" She snorts loudly, but blinks as the Dragoon begins to move. But instead of smacking into the stonework below, she rolls away, having let go at a precise enough point to escape everything but minor scraping. Another huff as she stands up stiffly. "Fine, I'll keep it then."

"They do, but if you ever ssee any asss tall as me, you can alwayss let me know." Ezli sighs. "And don't jusst turn around and point at me, that iss not helpful."

"And I'm sshort and weak, sso very far from the average. That feelss at leasst ssomewhat reasonable to be a bit defenssive."

Then she bursts into laughter as the goblin is sent tumbling. "Perhapss he didn't think it wass worth having hiss horns gnawed on. Not ssure why you're offering payment anywayss."

Skielstregar didn't have the energy to argue with the gobbo, him instead pulling his dreadful looking halberd closer so he could rest against it. A small chuckle does slip from him in a rumble from Aelwyn's method of gobber ejection.

He doesn't add anything for now, content to just watch the scene unfold.

Aelwyn straightens and runs his hand over his head, subtly checking his horns for gnawmarks. Orange eyes look between the other two sith-makar, before staring back at the goblin. "We are tall and well built _enough_." The draconian grunts and rolls his shoulders at the other two in way of apology. "Besides, Spellcrier's flames burn _far_ more brighter than hers." He grins toothily at Murder.

The glaive gets tapped at the ground, while Aelwyn steps closer towards the goblin. "Shorty still owes the loincloth, don't forget."

The laugh definitely stings, given the slight twitch, though she resolutely keeps her back turned.

The comment about the flames, however, has her slowly turning around to stare at Aelwyn, even as he steps closer. She growls at the ruddy-scale, and her eyes begin to glow a dull red. The Gobbo's eyes close and she lets out a long breath, then promptly kicks at Aelwyn's shin. Before turning and running off. "Damn yer stupid loincloth!"

The laughter dies down, and the small makari sighs as the goblin kicks Aelwyn and runs off. "Ah, I probably offended them with my laughter, I am sorry. I wass not expecting you to ssend them tumbling like that."

"Was sshe the one who ssold you that fireproof loincloth? If sso, I don't blame you for trying to get payment back for that." Eztli shrugs. "I owe her an apology if I ssee her again, but I will admit, my height iss a bit of a touchy ssubject."

Skielstregar's scaled brows furrow slightly as he's opening his maw to retort, but the damage is done, and the gobbo has absconded. His languid gaze slides over to the Dragoon. "One'sss abilitiesss can only be compared with themsselvess. Not othersss. You dessserved that. And owe them an apology," he rumbles disapprovingly.

Aelwyn hisses sharply as his shin takes a cheap shot. He is left there hobbling on one foot and a spear for a time, rubbing at the scales. "Do not worry, Shorty is always ready to explode." He lets out a long groan, standing back up on his two feet. Grunting and smoothing out his loincloth, he shakes his head at Eztli. "No, she was the one who burned the old one." And probable reason he is on the market for a fireproof loincloth now. He twists his lips and hisses out a quiet breath. "We are tall enough.

And from aside, the runt of a sith-makar gets scolded. Aelwyn instantly tenses up some, and he turns to look at the silver scaled draconian. He took a lot of pondering before he answers with a brief sigh. "Silver may be right." A pause, and then another grunt. "But she did bite my horns."

"Well, kind of. Like how I was mostly laughing because of the context and how I was feeling, and they were gnawing on his horns." Eztli shrugs. "But yeah, seems to have hurt her feelings, or made her mad. An apology is the best course of action regardless."

"But she probably owes one, too. What with kicking your shin like that and not having respect for your possessions. Just the sorts of things people need to sort out and communicate though, you know?"

Skielstregar grips his halberd tight, arms tensing as he pulls himself slowly to his feet. A Sunguard that had been keeping an eye on him jogs over to steady him. Must be his aide. He gives them a quiet thanks before turning his attention back to the shorter Dragoon.

He towers, despite how tired he looks. "Then you tell her you wisssh for an apology for your hornsss."

He glances to Eztli, not expounding on it as it'd feel like ganging up on the ruddy-scale. "Anywaysss... thisss one isss going to resst more. Sssee to visssit in a few daysss if you wisssh to... dance, purple-scale."

Aelwyn briefly lifts his hand, then lowers. How did she wind up being the victim here? "Trust me, she..." He begins, but then the silver scale begins to stand behind him. Looking up at him, he inhales in deep once more and lets it go, along with the topic of murderous goblins. "Of course, Silver. We shall." He grins toothily. "Nest in peace." He bows his head, then towards Eztli. "May her day be peaceful as well." Polearm back on his shoulder, he moves to blend into the crowd. Heo keeps occasionally rubbing at his horns.

The small makari stops, and sighs. "Well, at least keep me in the know in that case, I think it'd be good to see you both sparring when Skielstregar is better. As long as I'm not included." She replies with a hint of a chuckle returning. "Peace on your nest, and have a good day."

She looks back to Skielstregar and his assistant, and nods. "The sun is good, but if the weather changes, it might interrupt your sleep and rest. So, probably a good idea to go and sleep inside, makes sense. I'm probably going to keep wandering around, places to see, and maybe I can find a place I haven't been to get a bite to eat."

Eztli walks over and pats the much larger makari on the arm. "Rest up, and feel better soon Skielstregar! But don't rush it, if I need to go back to Mictlan, I can always ask Shilde, so I'll be fine as long as it takes." She offers in parting, before turning, half tripping over her tail, and starting off elsewhere.

-End Scene-