New Years Party
Log Info
- Title: New Years Party
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Aryia, Braelnoir, Cesran, Cryosanthia, Jinks, Lyme, Karelin, Merek, Mikilos, Paenitia, Randolf, Ravenstongue, Seldan, Seyardu
- Place: A12: Memorial Gardens District
- Time: Saturday, January 01, 2022, 8:41 PM
- Summary: The resurrectionist are holding a new years party! All are invited. There is a lot of food. Griva makes a point to say hello to noteables. Jinks breezes by Farland and lurks at the edge, as does Cryosanthia. Ravenstongue makes an appearance, as does Paenitia, and the little knight shows off her party tricky - launching chestnutts for Pothy and Ramirez to chase. Mikilos 'teleports' in, getting some looks, and seeing what the lucht is up to immediately builds some siege engines to fire apples down-range. Seldan is given thanks and accolades for his hard work, and thwarting Eclavdran. Randolf has a crisis of confidence, feeling overwhelmed by all the successful adventurers in the room. He is reassured, adventure and greatness will find him. Seldan offers to tell his tale, and Cryo chooses this moment to leave and embarass him, shutting it down. Rude. Paenitia thanks Seldan for his efforts, and then asks the party if they have heard of Hotoru, as she has resolved to find him this year. This prompts others to voice their own resolutions, to improve their abilities, or rescue a friend. Cesran arrives, and conversation turns to rescuing Aya. Griva has a discussion with Ravenstongue, about her 'grandfather' and she resolves to visit his fey land. Some, drink to much, some not enough, and the party goes late, enjoyed by all who drift in and out.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A12: Memorial Gardens District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Among the gardens, scents mingle: green, loam and subtle sweetness, wafting from the meticulously groomed grounds. The lawns are richly green, dense and close-cropped, bordered with polished pale marble stones the size of a human man's fist. The pathways are smoothly cobbled in muted tones that subtly echo and contrast with the surrounding greenery, shaded by the lush canopies of tall, straight trees whose branches arch over the walkways to form open, airy tunnels. Elegantly ornate, tall mana-lamps of wrought black iron keep the paths softly lit in the evenings; they are often situated near benches of matching material and style. It is peaceful, here. Somber. It is also curiously warm and green no matter the time of year; leaves do change color in fall but remain on the trees until spring comes again.
At the heart of the park where the paths converge are large marble pedestals supporting bronze or marble statuary, chiseled letters upon the heavy bases naming the subject of each piece. The previous sculpture celebrating the union of Alexandros with Myrddion has been removed from the center of the garden and replaced with a gorgeous statue of the Crown Princess Lianna Rena and a marble walkway that leads to the Monument of Heroes - a newly-raised edifice celebrating those who fought and died on behalf of others. Tribute is still given to the friendship between Myrddion and Alexandros in the form of the paired standards mounted above the entrance to the Monument of Heroes: one from each nation. The flagstaffs are crossed and held by a Myrrish Knight and an Old-Alexandros Miner.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Cesran 6'1" 185 Lb Human Male A tall dark-skinned man. Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature. Karelin 6'2" 256 Lb Human Male Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Mikilos 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Randolf 4'10" 280 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A burly, well-dressed Khazad in wizardly robes. Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Griva Brassbringer Dwarf Female Head of the Resurrectionist society, the hostess. Farland Gnome Male Assistant to Griva, mission leader. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=< -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
When you're doing something openly controversial, say making noises about your attempt to resurrect a dead god, per say, you need to be in the public eye often enough to help ensure that your visibility can help to counteract some of the more noxious rumors bound to form.
And there are plenty of noxious rumors about the so-called Resurrectionits. That they are thieves, liars, grifters, or worse: Insane. Plenty of people who are afraid of what they intend, afraid that it's going to make things worse, or that they're under the influence of darker powers.
But here they are, having secured a corner of Memorial Park for their own use. Griva Brassbringer, the grey-haired dwarven woman with the kind eyes and the smile, her companion Farland, the colorful gnome with the long hair and the beleagured eyes, and a handful of others, some bearing the accents of Rune to their tradespeak.
Beside them, as they wait for arrivals, is a sumptuous banquet table erected and piled with food and bottles of wine ready to be broken up by one of the hired hands and poured for those interested. It's a New Year. A celebration of *making* it to the New year in the face of a world that's embroiled in conflict. Griva is greeting people warmly as they arrive, local city officials, curious commoners, watchmen assigned to keep an eye on things, and of course, many Alexandrian adventurers who've done work for them.
Upon the table sits a variety of hand foods. Bits of cheese and meat on sticks, colorful root vegetables to mix with them, a warm stew to keep away the nights chill and corresponding bowls for them, warmers to keep the mulled wine warm alongside the plates of food already prepared for someone to take.
Aryia, a scarred mul'neissa woman in a green buckle jacket and a black scarf, caught wind of this. She could easily found assembling a climbing mountain of a plate of the finger food. She wasn't one to join in New Years festivities, but free food was free food. And she didn't hold back, as she wished to be petty for dealing with her alternate timeline self.
The best part about the Resurrectionist meetings are the feasts.
Or so Pothy thinks. As soon as Ravenstongue steps foot into the memorial park, dressed in her nicest winter dress and woolen cloak to mark the occasion of a new year, her white raven swoops from her shoulder over to the table, blur more than bird. The familiar is lightning-quick as he snatches up a few sticks and returns to Ravenstongue's shoulder.
"Pothy, you glutton, save some for everyone else," Ravenstongue admonishes her familiar with a sigh.
Pothy does not care about this rebuke as he begins to feast on a snack-stick. Disregard sorcerers, acquire snacks.
One of those early arrivals is a Red Knight astride an Ivory Steed and gliding down from the sky. Sister Paenitia and her brave mount Ramirez land outside the cordons. She dismounts and instructs him to stay. Stay, yes stay. Stay there.
He is the prettiest boy.
With hippogryph convinced to wait on the grass, the little knight strides up to Griva and Farland, formally returning a greeting and then slipping inside. She gets in the line for food, makes a small selection and a large 'desert' of roasted chestnutts. An odd choice, but her walking stick may have something to do with it.
Noticing people she knows, she calls out, "Hola!"
Mikilos appears well off to the side of the gathering, nothing one instant, present the next, without so much as a flash of light or puff of smoke. The magus is in his normal grey robes, absently tucking away bit of crystal and a length of ribbon into a pocket as he heads towards the table of mulled wine. "Happy New Year, one and all. I hope the season finds you hale and hearty."
Lyme ambles towards the event, clad in a formal coat, hands in his pockets. The orc looks around, a smile on his face. He does like a celebration.
Seyardu had done work with the small group, and had received an invitation. So the cleric was off to one side of the table with severs sticks of roasted meat in one hand, which she sampled while speaking with a few faces she knew already.
The Memorial Gardens are warm and inviting, as always, despite the time of year, but outside, the cold and snow reign free. A hooded traveler joins the gathering, freshly through the gates, midnight-blue traveling cloak and sturdy boots caked with snow, and only when he is truly among those gathered does Seldan lower the hood and loosen the cloak to reveal his customary warm woolen shirt and trousers and open-front robe beneath, and bright hair just a little tousled from being under a hood.
His manner is reserved, diffident, some would even say shy as he walks through the gathering, although he greets politely those who greet him. He seems to be seeking a face in particular.
A stranger to controversy and noxious rumors, Jinks thought to make room in his day for new experiences, and his experience with the Resurrectionists has been pleasant enough. That door-thing could've bene quite the frame job but turned out to be a jam.
The gnome whistles half a tune to himself, thinking the notes he doesn't blow into the chill air as he walks towards the gathering with his hands in deep coat pockets. He wears a long, belted coat padded and lined for the cold weather and a knit shawl he's tossed up as a hood. His face jewelry and buttons glitter.
"Greetings, everyone! So glad you could come to our little celebration of the New Year!" Griva offers, her voice full of the warmth that the chill air outside the gardens is absolutely absent.
Farland glances towards Jinks. Fellow gnome! He's going to go join him and have a word or two. Gnomes gotta stick together, right?
All the Resurrectionists bear a lapel pin, one of the scales of balance. Equilibrium.
Griva greets each person she passes by, stopping to say hello to Mikilso, though she wags a finger at him to indicate 'I'm watching you'. Randolf is nodded towards. She has, perhaps, heard of Randolf the Great.
Seyardu, Aryia, g iven warm smiles. She knows the service they've done for the Resurrectionists through Farland, no doubt. Cryo, a polite inclination. She knows her too, after all. Seldan, finally, is approached. She's moving to embrace him.
Randolf comes ambling into the gardens, idly tamping the bowl of his pipe with a fingertip as he goes. Of course, he doesn't need extra layers--he's a big burly dwarf, so his robe and kilt combo are more than enough to keep the balmy Alexandrian winter at bay. He offers a warm smile and an over-head wave at the folks he knows. "Oy, Jinks. Aryia. All right? Seyardu, Cryosanthia, peace on yer nests. Good tae see ye." Griva's nod is given a nod in return. Given the intensity of his courseload over the last few months, he doesn't know much about the Resurrectionists. As admirable as their goals might ostensibly be, they won't help him pass an Evocations final.
Lyme slouches up towards the table, getting a plate to assemble a selection from the feast. Griva can talk to his companions -- he's going to get some food first while the getting is good!
Mikilos wears no scale pin, prefering the same eye amulet he wore 100 years ago. Some things change, some don't. And some return to what they once were. Cup of wine in hand, the elf ambles over to the selection of cheese, more curious than hungry, careful not to get any fingers to close to the bottomless maw that is Pothy.
"Hello, Peace on your Nests, Peace on your Nests." Cryosanthia returns Griva's greeting, then Randolf's, as they offer them. She's lingering out of the way, dressed in her fanciful swashbuckling gear and presenting a gleaming white ensemble. She watching, noting arrivals. Mikilos' gets a long glance, then his amulet. She has neither.
Before Seldan can locate whoever it is he is looking for, the selfsame figure appears before him - and she's looking fora hug? That is most definitely a surprise, and it takes him a moment to decide what to do. The height difference necessitates a drop to one kne to accept the embrace. "Her light upon your path, Griva," he greets formally, but with a warm, boyish smile. "To what do I owe this honor?"
A few others got polite, reserved nods, but he spoke to none other, before now.
The next thing Pothy does at this party, as Pothy /is/ somewhat capable of being a good partygoer, is to socialize. And this means the white-feathered raven spots his brethren in the crowd. Of course he would. Ramirez and Pothy are birds of a feather.
(No, really. They are. Sort of.)
Pothy flaps over across the way and beyond the cordons to Ramirez, landing somewhere in his feathered comrade's feathers. He has brought the party to Ramirez. "Hola!" he crows, mimicking the paladina's voice.
Back inside the party, Ravenstongue waves politely to everyone she manages to spot despite her short stature. If only she was as tall as Mikilos...
Aryia has one hand occupied with foodstuffs, currently it was cheese and sliced meats on a stick. Glowing gaze flicks to and fro to people she knew, her other free hand raising in greeting.
Twas a bit crowded here, it seemed. And content she was to sit herself where food was closest. Lyme had the right idea.
Paenitia naturally gravitates towards her time-tripping comrads, Aryia, Seyardu and Lyme, although Ravenstongue gets a wave in her general direction when the lucht overhears Pothy.
At half the height of most attending, with a wide brimmed hat that prevents her seeing up, the little knight does not so much recognize friends across the crowd as expand upon her heraldry knowledge through belt-buckle browsing.
Her face, as always, is hidden by her Smiling Man's mask, and she finds a location near her friends where she can keep an eye on Ramirez and have her master plan unfold.
When the little knight hears her voice expertly reproduced and Ramirez's confused then excited, 'Ruaaah? Ruaaaaaaah!', she smiles behind her grinning mask. A roasted chestnutt is dropped in a pouch attached to her walking stick. It is in actuality, a lucht sling-staff. Paenitia winds up and whips the toasted snack in a high arc above the two bird-friends.
Snacks! Flying Snacks!
"Well, it seems this is a good get together, yes?" Seyardu chuckles as everyone seems gathered. "Peace on your nest Griva."
Her other friends get a wave, and she spends some more time stripping a few skewers of meat bare.
"I have missed your presence, Seldan, but I would think would that anyone have an excellent reason to be keeping a lower profile in the wake of what you've accomplished, it would be you. Congratulations, friend," she tells the paladin.
Griva then releases him and steps back, "Allow this man to get as drunk as he needs to tonight."
She gestures at him with her thumb. "Precious cargo. We'll make sure he gets home safe." There's some mild cheering -- no one wants to put him *too* much on the spot -- but that is a thing that happens.
Griva squints at Pothy for a long moment.
Her eyes are focused on him entirely, curious. Interested. "Hm," she says, now looking at Ravenstonuge, clearly seeing the connection between them.
Randolf perks as he sees that there's food. He tucks his pipe into his shirt pocket and ambles on over. He claps his hands and rubs them briskly before he takes up a plate and starts loading it up. Once he has a proper dwarf-sized mound of nibbly things, he avails himself of a mug of brew, and goes to find a place to plant his hefty rump. He picks up a skewer and chompfs a big bite, rumbling contentedly as he chews and swallows. He glances around at everyone socializing. Griva's embrace of Seldan brings a soft, slightly sad little smile to the dwarf's bearded face. He sighs quietly, stripping his skewer and going in for the next.
What is best in life? Snacks. What is even better? Snacks direct to your mouth with zero effort on your behalf, of course--or so Pothy thinks. That's why his big blue eyes dilate as he sees the chestnuts go a-soaring. He soars like a white streak into the sky, immediately going to fetch them before they fall. Not that Pothy's above eating food that's gone past the five-second rule... but it sure looks more impressive if he steals it from the sky's grasp before it can be handed to the ground.
Ravenstongue cranes her head as she looks at her familiar in the distance. She giggles to herself and makes her way over to some people she does know. She nods politely to Griva, followed by a slightly more familiar nod and a smile at Seldan, the man of the moment whether he likes it or not, and then finally Seyardu, although she does manage to spot Aryia and signals a "Hey! Happy new year!" to her in the crowd. <Handspeech>
"Good evening, everyone," Ravenstongue says with a smile to the group by Griva. The Griva group? Yes, the Griva group.
Seldan's cheeks turn pink at the mention as he accepts the embrace, then releases it, and his eyes lower. "Your words are kind, Griva, and I would repay that kindness poorly indeed, did I do aught of the kind." The smile remains present, though, and reaches his eyes. There's gratitude in that diffident smile.
Once her attention has turned, his does as well, and he sees faces that he knows. One in particular draws his attention, but he rises as Ravenstongue greets him instead. "Her light upon your path. Your raven has left us some food, I hope?" His eyes go towards the food tables again, and to Randolf.
Jinks will detour past Distantplace and give him a proper People's greeting. Their gnomish is accented differently; the bard is from Clockwork Point which is a far(off)land but, well, gnomes are confusing. Racial pleasantries satisfied, he unbuckles his coat, folds back his shawl, and moves to inspect the table of foodstuffs. Well, drinkstuffs, as he completes his tour with nothing other than a steaming mug to show for it.
Beverage in hand, Jinks toasts back the greetings and offers a wink or two along the way. His eyes flutter as he stifles a yawn, skirting the periphery to find a spot to idle, enjoy the wind, and seek out his second wind.
Mikilos looms quietly, drifting with the flows of the crowd, meeting the occasional eye with a smile, content with a mug to warm his hands.
Aryia spots Ravenstongue moving closer, her scanning around for the food thief. A nod towards Paenitia and a raised hand to her fellow time-jumper, her attention returns to the half-sil, as does a flitting hand. "Happy new year," the motions return.
Skewering the rest of finger food on the half cleared stick, she rises and decides to idle amongst the building group. The interactions with Griva raise a brow. <Handspeech>
'Ruaaaawk?' Ramirez was beak-bumping Pothy, and then his fellow feathery friend was flitting frantically, after snacks? After snacks! He is about to squawk in indignation when, -vvvvvppp- Another chestnutt goes flying by.
Paenitia reloads quickly.
The white hippogryph launches into the air, snapping for the nut.
Paenitia mixes with the building group also. Her 'Happy New Year' handsign is more of a slow wave, with a tilt of her ever grinning mask.
Randolf must agree with Pothy. Snacks are quite delicious. But then he's a growing dwarf. He needs his calories. Especially if they come from delicious meat. He makes short work of another skewer. He picks up his mug to down a long swallow. Beer is also vitally important to the dwarven diet, composing one of their main food groups. It's surely written down in some sort of dwarven gastronomic treatise, you can look it up. He turns his face to the sky, watching the clouds rolling by overhead. His expression is distant and wistful. But at least he's not angrily brooding, which is more his usual speed.
The white-scaled sith'makar woman stands quite tall and a little bit rigid. Her clothes are impeccable, her tail contained and low, her hands clasped in front of her, as she doesn't seem to know what to do with them. She attempts a casual lean, one hand on a hip, and it it looks awkward.
She decides a drink will stabilize her pose, settle some nerves. She glides past the buffet table and selects a tall, slender wine-glass with a sparkling white filling the cup. She takes a careful sip and passes Seyardu. "Peace on your Nest," she says quietly, "if you want to talk." She leaves the rest open.
Although, she heads over to wall-flower beside Jinks, where she takes another sip and watches everyone.
Farland, having greeted Jinks and asked 'what news', more or less, in the gnomish way, has moved on. It was a casual thing. He's made his way towards Aryia, aiming to invade her proximity and say, "Good to see you. I have to say, I appreciate all the work you did, and recovering that item was a handful."
He looks towards Paenitia, nodding there as well.
Ramirez gets an eyeballing, while Pothy continues to steal attention.
Griva pats Seldan on the side amiably once. "We hope you'll all feel festive. The city has been through a great deal, but now it's safer. Safer, and we mark the turn of a new year, one which we hope will bring us closer to our goals, and to a better future for one and all."
Aryia, cheeks puffed from shoving the last of what food she had into her face, blinks a bit at the way Cryosanthia was acting, and her passing by Seyardu without stopping. She'd been around that whitescale for quite a long time as of late, and she tilts her head in wonder.
Such ponders were jammed on hold as someone was approaching to speak with her. Which was... odd for the mute. Most didn't seek her out.
She waves from the hip at Farland. "Hey. Nice to see you too. It... was. I'm still not sure if you believe our report. But it was, and I mean this with my whole heart and mind."
She cracks her neck.
"A massive pain in the ass." <Handspeech>
"So we do." Seldan agrees, returning the smile once more for the assurances. "Safer indeed, and that is well for all. May the new year bring blessings and good fortune." With that, he turns politely away, in the direction of the food tables, securing for himself a bowl of stew and a mug of mulled wine. He is about to turn away when he catches sight of the white lizard, a moment that steals the smile from his lips. Almost at once, he turns away, taking his prizes and looking around for a place to sit.
On the way, he pauses next to Randolf, and offers a quiet inclination of the head. "Does something trouble you?"
Pothy continues to perform more gravity-defying stunts involving catching chestnuts with the aid of flight, his wings taking him as fast as he can go. He's on the edge of nutty glory, and he will not be denied!
"Wow, he's getting better at that," Ravenstongue remarks to Griva and Seyardu nearby, her eyes trained on that. "Then again, I don't really do a lot of... aerial snack dispensing."
The little Red Knight returns Farland's nod. She follows this with firing three chestnutts in quick succession to keep her mount and her friend's familiar occupied. With a moment of respite guaranteed, the lucht clanks up to Seldan and Griva. She is fully encased in her armour, as always.
"Hola Griva, Bountiful New Year! This the great celebration. Much thanks!" She passes on, clanking after the paladin and inadvertently interrupting him when he reaches the dwarf.
"Silverguard Seldan, Much Thanks also! For the service I read about in the Tribune and hear tell as the grand tales in the tavern. It is the good work. Much thanks also, for the help in the White Stag hunt," The Red Knight continues, holding out a hand, "I offer the apologies that I am present there and what my behaviour might be. It is the long involve story, with the Thorn King in the Hedge Maze. I make the vow I must keep then, and one of secrets also."
Oh, there's a dwarf! She leans around Seldan, "Randolf, I give you the apologies also."
Randolf looks back down as Seldan addresses him. "Oh! Master Seldan!" He immediately hops to his feet, puffing up his chest as he damn near stands at attention. But the question has him relaxing somewhat. "O-oh. Oh. No. It's nothin'," he says, perhaps a little more gruffly than he meant to. "I just... dinnae really do well at these kinds o' gatherings. It's just... hard bein' the only dwarf here." He clears his throat. "Please, dinnae trouble yerself on account o' me, master. I'm not worth the effort." And then there's Paenitia popping out from behind Seldan. He blinks owlishly at her. "Er... whatever for, Dame?" he asks, looking a bit boggled, or perhaps even baffled.
It does not seem to take long for Seldan's good humor to return, whatever stole his smile seemingly forgotten. "And yet are you not so," he answers quietly. "Nor are you unworthy of effort, nor the only arcanist among the dwarves present. Griva is a former member of the Conclave, and it is well that you meet her."
He turns then to Paenitia, who had followed him. "I am but pleased that the work is done. As for the Hedge King, you need not apologize to me. Well enough are the fae known to me, that it was in my mind that they might strand you in the fae realms, when their purpose was served. I possessed not the means to break their pull,. nor would I deny or interfere with the keeping of an oath. I but wished to ensure that all returned safely, and yet - it seems that there is a tale here, that I would hear."
Mikilos watches Peanitia's food launchings with idle curiousity. An idea forms.
Parties have activities, right?
Right.
And those activities are often contests, right?
...right?
And those contests typically involve launching foodstuffs across the room, right?
...um??
And so it is with hazy memories of Magic College Frat parties that Mikilos strides to the far side of the food table, seeking a fairly open area before he begins casting.
17 cubic feet of carefully pre-cut lumber makes for quite the pile.
GAME: Mikilos casts Major Creation. Caster Level: 17 DC: 26 GAME: Mikilos rolls profession/siege engineer: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls profession/siege engineer: (16)+3: 19
He knows what he's doing.
Lyme circles now around to nod towards Paenitia and Aryia, and Farland as well. He salutes them with a stick of skewered meat, which he's slathered in some dip.
The white lizard has had her attention on the silverguard almost the whole time since Griva announced him. She does not glance away as sight of her is caught. She wasn't trying to hide, but she is usually making more of an effort to be seen. Her expression doesn't change, she had no smile so there was none to lose. Her mouth remains carefully closed.
The entire glass is drained.
She leans without taking a step to exchange it for a full one. She decides, holding her elbow with one hand and the glass elevated in the other is the proper pose. Her eyes slowly drift to take in Mikilos' great pile of lumber.
Now there's a smile.
"...Did I miss something? Why did Master Mikilos create a bunch of wood?" Farland pauses, "Is it because he didn't want to be the only one lumbering around?"
Mikilos is very tall, aft er all, for an elf.
Griva stares as well. Then she picks up a bit of meat and carefully has a bite with a sigh.
"Wizards," she mutters, though her tone is in good humor. "Nothing to fear here, anyway. It's just a bunch of wood." Ravenstongue is eyed for a moment again by her, her and Pothy, befgore Griva crooks a finger at the girl and gestures for he to come over to her. She is curious.
Mikilos says, "ARCH wizard, thank you."
Jinks cat-calls, "Being an archwizard is like being a gentleman, tallman. If you have to tell someone you are, you aren't."
Mikilos is also a lord, if that helps? ...technically... officially... there's a marsh he owns...
Pothy gives a loud and tremendous cry of joy that all who know him well know to be his universal noise to indicate anything: sadness at losing a snack, happiness at gaining a snack, fear of losing a snack, lusting after a snack, angry at losing a snack, confusion at the snack suddenly disappearing... All of these emotions are covered by the universal corvid expression when Pothy sees Mikilos's great big pile of wood and what he's constructing.
"MERP!" Pothy cries out in joy. This is what he had been training for his entire existence. Perhaps the culmination of his corvid career. Nay, perhaps the culmination of all of existence! It. Is. Time. For. The. BIG. FLYING. *SNACK.*
Meanwhile, Ravenstongue catches Griva's motion and she raises a brow. She walks over to Griva and nods. "Yes, Madame Griva?" she asks. "What can I do for you?"
Aryia blinks at the sudden appearance of pre-cut lumber, her glancing about to see what that was about. But she purses her lips, seeing as her conversation partner was now interested in whatever the wizard was up to. And Griva's attention was on Ravenstongue.
She stands there awkwardly in the middle of everyone and nothing at the same time. A task she was well versed at. Being awkward.
She thinks to herself: what do I do with my hands?
"That I do not give the better warning when I hear the horns," Paenitia tells Randolf, her dark brown eyes meeting his through the holes in her mask. She blinks, "I know the others will follow when one adventurer rush in. I should have say why to protect the civilians, that the mind control magic is present."
She makes a small bow to the dwarf, which has her examining his belt buckle now. "So I make the apologies."
The little knight straightens and tilts her head back so she can gaze up at Seldan. She sounds cheerfully amused, "Ah, there is the story of the Hedge Maze Castle, but I am vow to never speak of it to leave. The promise is necessary to... ah, ha! I nearly give the detail. The Wild Hunt will chase me. Do not worry, I have the other tales to speak of. You want hear the time I travel time?"
Ramirez swoops in behind Pothy, hovering in the air like a giant backstop. Whatever his little buddy misses, he'll catch.
Jinks sighs, turning from the scattered gathering to look up at Cryosanthia. His rings glitter when he raises his fist and bumps the base of it against the sith-makar's hip-- a friendly gesture that's far easier than a pat on the shoulder when you're half the height of the next guy. Or gal. He smirks and drains his mug before padding off for a refill.
"Maybe he's board. Or feeling knotty," Jinks offers Farland, humming at his wine to cool it just a bit before he tosses the whole mug back in one go. "Best to hope it's not made from a woods that are difficult to please. You know," he sips the new mugsworth, "a carpin'-tree."
The gnome grins, eyes twinkling, and he toasts again with his mug, generally. "Coyote laughs," he decides.
Mikilos sorts the lumber swiftly, perfectly aware of what needs to go where, but the spell has practical limits. Like any good adventurer, he has a fair length of rope on hand, and a couple blocks of cheese make for solid counter weights. In short order the magus has a small trebuche put together, with two more ready to be assembled. Fairly small, they won't do much more than launch an apple across a field... but, they'll launch an apple across a field!
Appoligies and condolences to those downrange.
Lyme wanders off, eating, seeming invisible in the crowd.
Randolf glowers a bit as Paenitia reminds him of one of his less-than-pleasant experiences. "Hrmph. Not that -I- could do anything about it. I threw me most powerful magic, an' it bounced right off the enchantment like it wasn't even there. I was stuck bein' that sheepfuckin' bastard's -pet-. Hrmph."
He turns his attention from Paenitia back to Seldan. For a moment, his beard bristles just a bit. He harrumphs gruffly to clear his throat, looking down and away, shame-faced. "'s just..."
He looks back to the gathering. "They've all done amazin' things, haven't they? Some of 'em even traveled through -time-. An' you... well, yer a mighty an' learned wizard, aren't ye? An'--"
POOF! Suddenly siege weaponry.
Randolf's eyes go wide as teacups. Blink blink. "An' then there's shit like -that-," he says, gesturing at Mikilos' creation. "An' me... I just... haven't. I've not done anything worth rememberin'. I've gotten tae look like a ram's arse, or slitted up tae hell an' gone. Shot at, bitten, stabbed, blasted... an' that's not even countin' what me -beard's- been through."
He gives his beard a tug, making his whiskers ruffle. "Most o' the folk here... I'll outlive their gran'children. I'll remember the wonderful things they've done long after they've left this life. But... nobody'll remember -me-." He sits himself down with a sigh, rubbing his face briskly. "No reason they -should-, either," he mutters. He picks up his mug and gulps its contents.
Seyardu stops her meal to take in the familiar faces which Griva had greeted. She looks to Cryosanthia when she speaks up. The cleric sighs, and nods. "Another time, please. There is too much going on at the moment to speak, I am sorry."
"Ah. What is this machine about?"
Some of the city officials, to say nothing of the Guild officials, are looking at the unasked-for pile of wood with a bit of trepidation. This is one of those things. There's a few eyerolls, some grumbles. Some shared glances, some rumblings about 'adventurers' again.
Nothing that isn't unexpected, but they don't appear to be wanting to make a show of it. Displays of power can still be un settling, even well intentioned ones!
Griva coughs delicately into her hand, takes an official by the arm, and guides him to the wine.
Cryo relaxes a little, at a little fist bump to her hip. Her stance sinking, her tail loosing into a slow curl back and forth. She notices Aryia looking around, looking awkward, unsure what to do with her hands. She tips her glass in the mul'niessa's direction. Cross one's arms and hold something, projecting the dual signals of withdrawn and occupied.
Her smile slips from a natural one to something she can hold when she isn't feeling it. She watches the birds lining up for the flying treats and pushes her shoulders back.
Karelin prowls in, looking around with a scowl on his face. It lightens though -- festive siege engines! Fun! He scans the faces carefully, habitually, even. It's too big a gathering not to be a bit on-edge.
Seldan's eyes, too, have gone to the pile of wood, and he, too, is left shaking his head slowly, but there are bigger concerns. "Then shall I not pry. It is enough that all returned safely. I would hear your tale, but perhaps in a little, if I might?"
Insteadn he turns his attention to Randolf, food and drink still in his hands and cooling. He finally takes a small sip of the wine in one hand. "It was not so very long ago that I was a dangerously ill threat to all in my path," he tells Randolf. "Think not that you are an arse, nor useless. You learn from each experience, and you grow stronger. I did not in our run see a ram's arse. In truth am I but a servant of Eluna, and I do as I must. I am no great leader, nor a hero, though many would have you believe so. I do as She asks of me, and She blesses me in return." His eyes lower. "I have done many a foolish and dangerous thing. There are days of which I have no recollection. Many a time have I found myself in need of aid. I but seek to aid who I can, where I can."
"Please, let's remember to be *responsible* with magic. It's a gift. That means nothing that anyone has to clean up aftwards," Farland calls out, giving a look at Pothy. This is all Pothy's fault,
Somehow.
Mikilos's creations are better than biodegradable. They're magic. Day later, and poof, they just disappear, back to whatever slurry on magic threads they were woven from.
Mikilos would explain in detail, but they're magic users, they know how how conjuration works... or they're elected officials, and don't actually matter...
Aryia flounders a bit longer. She spies Cryo, takes a step towards her with a raise of the hand. Then she's occupied. A little sigh. Then the shadow elf hears Randolf go on about his woes, the mute woman pursing her lips and squinting. She approaches, whistling lightly to get his attention. Then, hands move. "Hey Randolf."
"Cut that shit out. Look at me. There will be a time, a moment, a line you will cross. Where you stare the things that once harrowed you in the eye. And you kick their ass without a fucking thought. You cannot compare your accomplishments against others. I'm not going to compare myself to Seldan. And I can't compare myself to you. I can't shoot fucking lightning out of my hands. And you can't punch a hole in a stone wall. You only can compare how far you've come against yourself."
She glances to Seldan, gives him a nod at their double pep talk and grabs a drink on her way to go wall flower. <Handspeech>
The power has gone to Pothy's head.
Okay, it's more like the attention. Maybe a bit of adrenaline too, if such a concept exists for familiars. Either way, he's soaring in the air on arcane-made wings, taking each and every morsel of food as it flies in the air. He and Ramirez are the Dream. They are the Team. They are the moment, and it is their time to glide on the breeze to eat.
"Umm. You asked for me, Madame Griva?" Ravenstongue says, approaching the Resurrectionist with a little hesitation in her voice.
'Mulria's sideways smile,' Jinks mutters, rolling his eyes. 'Listen,' the gnome instructs Randolf after whistling to get his attention, pointing a finger towards his ear by way of instruction. He takes a breath, thinks, hums, and licks his lips.
- "Cold: the air and water flowing.
- "Had: the land we call our home.
- "Push to keep the dark from coming.
- "Feel the weight of what we owe."
The bard's words push through the Hymn, sliding along the air and crystalizing reality for those few seconds. It brings everything into sharper focus. It makes a person more confident and sure. They're a better version of themselves for those quickened heartbeats.
Jinks lets his grip on it slip away when the words fade. 'That was you-- what you felt there-- Just a few extra measures into your song. Enjoy the music and follow your own tempo.' He drinks down the mug and shrugs, 'You rush and you die. Or worse.' The gnome grins and winks, turning away to fill his mug once again. The color is starting to come into his cheeks. <khazdul>
"Yes, the other time, Silverguard." Paenitia says, making room as Aryia joins them and hand signs many, many things. Incomprehensible things.
"I am Tarien's little joke," She tells Randolf cheerfully, "the things that have happen to me, it is to laugh. I must excuse before they throw the table at my Ramirez."
She bows and backs away, to examine what will be lobbing what at her hippogryph. She approves of what she sees, "Lunch!"
Karelin scans the way again, then heads towards Griva, gaze focused on the dwarf. He slows, then folds his arms on his chest. He waits, though his attention is caught by the song, fleeting.
Griva finally has the moment, having assigned one of her friends to keep an eye on the new limber pile, magical as it might be, before she turns back to Ravenstongue. "There's something about you," she tells her. "Something about you and your familiar. Something old. I can't say what it is, but I hope that you're aware of it."
She glances towards Seldan, a warm smile again.
In the meantime, one of the city officials is having what Mikilos did explained to him. They had questions, it appears.
Aryia, the scarred mul'neissa that was at Strike's get together, notices Karelin and gives him a little up nod in recognition. Though, she can't help but feel that familiar feeling from the Hymn hitting her.
Silver clad ears flick once, head tilting to the side. That felt... odd to hear. Sounds like a good verse, she got the gist of it.
She does eye Mikilos and his... assembling pile. A few dots connect in her head. "... I think I know why I can't jump around anymore..." she signs to herself. <Handspeech>
Ravenstongue looks confused for a moment as she considers Griva's message. "Something old? What do you... What do you mean?" she asks. Her hand goes to her chest, right where her heart is. Her arm shakes for just a handful of seconds.
Speaking of Pothy...
He crumples down to the ground. The bird gives out a noise like a yawn or a sigh. His strange bird eyelids flicker shut... And he snoozes.
Pothy has successfully been put into a food coma. Such a feat has never been accomplished before. And, if the gods have their way, it might never happen again.
Mikilos is more than happy to explain, trying to balance accurate technical information with easy, simple to understand metaphors. "....You see, it's like the constantly changing flow of water from a bowl with a V shaped notch..." When you're a wizard, the bar for 'easy, simple to understand' is raised a bit.
"Tarien's favorite things are jokes, paladina," offers Jinks as Paenitia passes. "Such a claim might be hubris." He laughs, then, and has another drink.
"Karelin! Happy New year!" Cryosanthia calls across the crowd when she spots the old soldier moving Griva's way. She hasn't seen him since... no she saw him at Strike's... face melting party. The whitescale shakes her head, she's been without alcohol for a while and the old pace is a bit too fast now.
Well that's a successful greeting. She watches Jinks as he sings, head bobbing. Nice. Whoever he's talking to gets a wave too, one of Faran's fellow knights it seems, or Tarien's.
Merek is about, probably to celebrate with people. He's keeping away from where there are a lot, all the same he sees people like Ravenstongue, Jinks, Mikilos. The man waves while he will take the time to look to Cryosanthia and wave, "Cryo!" The man walks that way with a hug for the whitescale.
Finally, Seldan sets aside his mug on the nearest table, then takes up the spoon in his bowl and, finally, begins to eat, carefully and attentively, as the others speak one by one. The moment of the Hymn brings a smile to his lips, but it is quick to fade when the snippet is gone. "Your friends are wise," he offers. "Do you wish it, I shall introduce you to Griva. We all begin small. When first I arrived, I was told a thing that is true, that we start with small tasks, that we gather the strength to accomplish greater things."
He examines Jinks and Paenitia over the rim of his bowl, then the pile of lumber, then Aryia's signs, apparently without comprehension. Karelin gets a look of recognition, but no response, and he returns his attention to Randolf.
Randolf looks up and around as those he wishes he could be like tell him over and over how great he -could- be come. He hangs his head, staring into his empty beer mug. "I just... my people are builders. We make things that last, in praise o' Great Father Reos Who Forged The World." He turns his eyes to the skies again, beard bristling once more. "I just want what I do tae matter. I want it tae -mean- summat." Hearing Jinks' music has him pulling a deep breath. He closes his eyes, letting that music wash over him. It's inspiring, that vision of just -how- great Randolf the Great could become. "I can only do me best, an' pray it's enough," he finally says. "Sorry fer bein' such a wet blanket. I'm sure ye've all got better things tae do than listen to me whine." He leans over to snag a fresh mug of beer, tipping back a long swallow. "But someday... aye, maybe -some-day... I'll do summat worth rememberin'."
Ramirez lasts longer in the air, catching food. Being horse-sized helps. The city officials with their questions interrupt the feast before he's finished. The white peacock-andalusian lands where Paenitia left him. Waiting here worked so well. He keeps a large eye on the food-stupified white raven, to ensure he's safe.
Paenitia has clanked up beside Mikilos, and listens to his explanations, hands on her hips.
Aryia motions with her hands from afar, a bit of a glimmer of silver light aligning it so it could be seen easier from afar. "You're already building something, Randolf. Your deeds. That poor elf would be stuck in a cave if you didn't help. Like Seldan said. You build small. And upon that foundation, bigger and bigger deeds will come." <Handspeech>
"Old. I wish I could tell you more. Ever since I -- well, you wouldn't know about that. But old. Something old and powerful," muses Griva, "I'd be careful. You never know what can come of that, especially with our talents inside of us like you have. If you ever need assistance, or instruction, please do reach out. I understand you have a mentor, fussy as she might be, but it's our responsible, as scions of Rune, to shepherd every generation of magic-holder."
A glance at Mikilos and she asides, loud enough for the elf to hear, "Sometimes we're more succesful than others, though." A playful wink.
"Would you hear the tale of how I came to oppose Eclavdran? Perhaps such a tale holds wisdom for you." Seldan speaks between bites, and pauses at the end of the sentence to reach for his mug, spoon clinking in the bowl.
Karelin turns his head, and waves towards Cryosanthia. "Cryosanthia! And a new year to you! Peace on your nest." He winces, just a /little/ at the word peace. It's probably unconscious. He turns, and nods towards Merek, as well, as paths converge, He looks at Seldan, then looks towards the food table. He heads for it, head turning towards Griva's engagement with Ravenstongue.
Grinning at something, Jinks shakes his head and laughs quietly to himself. Free hand in a pocket and mug in the other, he sidles over to Aryia, finds a flat surface to set his steaming drink down, and lifts a hand in greeting. "Did you and V have a nice evening? The family?" <handspeech>
Aryia selectively tunes out the oncoming tale. Randolf needed a pick-me-up, not someone who'd point out holes. Especially the empty one resting in her sternum.
Her attention settles on the flashing hands and getting comfortable gnome, she opts to sit on the ground with her own warm drink. A shoulder rolls up to push a backwards band on her head closer to be more secure before giving a light smile at the question. "Yes, we did. The rest of the dinner went well. RT stayed to eat with us. My parents are... I need to tell them to stop interrogating everyone they meet. But aside from that, it went well."
She makes a pointed glance around, looking for odd shadows. And, thankfully, coming up empty. <Handspeech>
"Merek!" The man is hugged by the whitescale. Cryo's mood and body temperature are both a little cool. She embraces as warmly as she's able. Her glass is empty again, look at that. She huffs a firm exhale, "This one has to get back Merek, I need to fly and burn off the drink. Try not to party too much, just keep up with this guy."
She indicates Jinks, then disengages. A short walk glides her across the room to the circle around Griva. She nods to the dwarf woman, "The party was enjoyable. This one must be going. You know how to reach me when you need me." A second dip of her head and she withdraws outside.
There, she looks up into the sky. She kicks a heel on the ground and shoots upwards like an arrow. When she's crested the height of the city walls she dives off her invisible pillar. Wings snap out of her back and carry her away. As the sound of her wings fade, she calls back with a magically enhanced voice. It's impossible to miss, the whole party hears it. Half the city she's overflying does.
"THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE, SILVERGUARD PEDARYN."
A strange look falls over Ravenstongue's face from Grisha's remarks. It's something like... Somewhere between a laugh and a look of horror. "Ahum, well, Madame Grisha," Ravenstongue says politely, "I appreciate it. Really, I do."
She takes a gander over at the unconscious Pothy and smiles perhaps just a bit too widely. A convenient out, perhaps, from a conversation that's suddenly gotten a bit too much to bear, a kettle left over the fire and is about to go off... "I ought to tend to him. Thank you for such a wonderful evening."
"I have to go home and eat more of that cake, I can barely taste a thing of mortal food now," Ravenstongue murmurs to herself as she makes her way to her snoozing Pothy-friend. <Sylvan>
"Well, they may have got the the habit from me. I am sorry, Aryia." Seyardu chuckles as topics of parents have come up.
She looks as Cryosanthia takes off, and chuckles. "Yes, everyone has done a good job helping here. And that was certainly a way to give thanks."
Merek waves a little bit while he nods a bit, "Thank you Cryo!" The man looks to people and will think about it, "Well, I would like a drink, I think I will get a drink." He then takes a cigarette from the belt with him to place it into his mouth.
"It's hard not to ask questions when you want to know everything." Jinks answers with a shrug. He holds his open hands palm-out and turns them back, the jewels and carved bands glittering as he makes a loose fist. A puff into the space between curled pointer and thumb and he pulls free a pocket square. The gnome snaps it open and makes careful placement of it on the ground before sitting near the mul'.
Distracted for a moment by his name, he grins and shakes his head at the departing sith-makar. Waving at her and then straining up to collect his mug once again. The gnome tries a smile and a shallow nod Seyardu's way but doesn't press the issue. "How long had it been? A few week's of questions can't seem too much in comparison." <handspeech>
Aryia's head cranes back as the whitescale shoots off, her raising a hand to wave goodbye. And a goodbye to Ravenstongue as well. But, the mute couldn't help but catch how frazzled she was. Filed away for later.
Her attention slides over to Jinks, and she startles a bit at the pocket square coming from seemingly nowhere. Confused, she leans to and fro to find where it came from, but ends up giving up on such a venture.
It's Jinks. He probably bullshit his way into making it appear.
The mute bobs her head. "It's less about me getting a maelstrom of questions and more my friends. But uh, seventy? Eighty years? Something like that. Trust me, they've got no end for what they want to know." <Handspeech>
And then the voice rings out, amid all the conversation. Seldan's shoulders tense, his small smile vanishes, and his eyes lower to the ground at his feet. They do not lift, and he speaks again. "In truth were there far more voices than mine, that made such a victory possible. Do not doubt that even small actions, when they are put with the small actions of others, move mountains. In fact, there is no other way to accomplish the truly great things. Do not forget that."
He sets aside his half-eaten bowl, on the nearest table next to his mug, and appears to leave it forgotten.
Randolf reaches into his shirt pocket for his pipe, giving the bowl a quick tamp with his finger before tucking the bit in the side of his mouth. He makes a flourish with his hand and snaps his fingers to conjure a spark of flame, whiskers twitching as he pulls that flame into the bowl. Once he has a hearty glow kindled, he snaps his wrist to banish the flame, puffing a billow of sweet vanila-honey pipe smoke into the air. Cryosanthia's departure has him getting wide-eyed. "Hunh. That's an exit, innit?"
Seyardu looks up to the sky for a moment longer, watching the sky before she is taken back to the ground. She clears off her skewers, and sighs. "Perhaps in some ways. And, it has been some time since I hace spoken to my father. Only a few years? But it still feels like some time. I can only imagine what eight is like."
"Your friends don't mind... I'm sure." Jinks responds, his gestures halting as he busies himself with narrowing his eyes at Seldan curiously. A blink and he's looking back. He affects a grumpy scowl and makes exaggerated, emphatic gestures. "Or tell them to mind their elders."
The gnome takes up his cup and drinks the mulled wine dry. When he breathes out through his nose the steam makes him look almost draconic. "But, honestly; this was a nice thing to happen after Charn. I'm glad you found each other." <handspeech>
GAME: Jinks rolls Perform/Sing: (12)+22: 34 (Sense Motive)
For some reason, why isn't clear, but what Cryosanthia did hit Seldan like a smack in the mouth. That is far more than mere embarassment.
The dramatic departure has given the little Red Knight an idea. So has the Silverguard's speech. A lot of people doing a little thing can work miracles, and she needs just a small amount of help.
"Hola the Party!" She announces herself, "I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar and Paladina of Tarien. I have the quest I hope to complete in the New Year. I seek the Innocent Swordmaster, a boy named Hotoru, to wield a weapon for which there is the great coming need."
"If you know of him, hear of him, please to let me know. I make the resolution to finish this in time." She thinks of something suitable to finish off her request with, "A toast! Huzzzah!"
Hopefully she has not inspired others to sound off on resolutions for their new year.
Cesran had heard there was some sort of celebration being planned by the Resurrectionist, but he had research to do and people to talk to so he arrives at the party exactly when he means to. He saw the dramatic exit from afar and looks around to see who else is still in attendance. He's traveling on foot for the moment, although the color rug is rolled up and tucked away under his backpack. His staff is in hand and her head is looking around scanning to see who else is here as well.
In time, the festivities draw the wanderings of another.
Braelnoir, eyes momentarily, if pointlessly turned skyward in the wake of the gratitude from on high, finds her feed bringing her into the gardens. She's travelling comparatively light, unburdened by any of her two-handed accessories, winter wear shifting after a moment's thought inside the controlled climes of the Gardens to something a little more festive.
Her eyes scan about the area for familiar faces, as well as surveying the offerings on hand.
Aryia can't help but chuff at that. "I'm sure they'd love it if someone would back talk them. They'd be over them like ants to candy."
She looks up to Seyardu, who's been paying attention to the conversation. "Yes, eight decades is... there's a lot we're working through right now."
She leaves it at that, and brushes her hair back with a sigh that puffs her cheeks out. "Well, if they don't mind, then I'll let them be as they are."
She looks back down to Jinks. Her torch-bright gaze softening somewhat. There's something slightly different about her. It's hard to put a finger on it, but it's almost... acceptance. Acceptance of a lot of things. And it looked as if there was a hidden weight lifted from her mind. She softly smiles, drawing idle circles on the ground with her light-paint. "I'm glad too. Especially after Charn. I feel a lot better knowing they're safe and not in that shit hole anymore. Fuck, I never want to step there again unless I'm there to messing things up." <Handspeech>
Seldan shows no sign that he understands any of the signed conversations going on around him, and indeed isn't even looking anymore. No further mention is made of the tale he'd offered, and at length, he straightens and turns away from his food and drink, leaving it abandoned on the table. "Do I hear aught, I shall inform you," he answers Paenitia, but absently, and seems to be somewhere deep within his own thoughts. He turns away from the gathering, and starts to make for the exit.
Out in the grass, Ravenstongue remains with Pothy as he slowly comes to in her arms. It's out here that she hears Paenitia's resolution for the new year. She purses her lips in thought, Pothy snoozing quietly in her arms. Then she closes her eyes, and she sways for a moment, like a branch in the wind that holds the raven up.
"I... I /do/ want to go to Quelynos. For a visit," she says. "I want to see it with my own eyes. Just like the texts said I would. The stories were all real or were once real. That's... That's my resolution." Ravenstongue says to herself, more of a confession than a resolution. <Sylvan>
"Merp," Pothy says in response, which jolts Ravenstongue from her reverie. She seems to realize where she is again, and she briefly gives a wave to anyone who she spots in the crowd before departing into the night.
Karelin turns back towards Griva, then turns away, and heads off.
Randolf looks over to Paenitia as she makes her resolution. "Hrrm." Puff puff. He takes ahold of his pipe, leaning forward as he regards her through a billow of smoke. "I'm nae sure who this Hotaru lad is, but... if I hear anything, I'll be sure an' let ye know, eh?" He indulges in another swallow of his beer. "As fer me... well... suppose I'm resolved tae reach Fifth Circle magics by year's end. I should be able tae do -that- much, at least. I hope I can, anyroad."
There is a clanking behind the silverguard, the rush of short legs in heavy armour. A little paladin attempting catch up with the taller one. Not his usual pursuer, but... similar.
"Sir Seldan..." She says with a pause, her mask hiding her breathlessness, "I would hear the story, the sometime that is not now when it can be more easily tell. There has been the many things of late, the pull in all directions, the heavy thoughts. I am tired. I see you are much too."
There's a touch on his knee, "I want you know, I am glad to have help. I am at your back. You can take the rest."
Her message delivered she raises her glass to the resolutions she heard, thought she heard. Ravenstongue's, Randolf's, others she might have missed, "Huzzah!"
GAME: Jinks casts Message. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17
"I'd love to burn that enthralling guildhall down," Jinks agrees, lifting his mug-- only to realize it's empty. "... we'll toast that in a minute." The gnome rolls to one side and makes to stand but pauses on the way. He sings a handful of notes into his hand and tosses the swirling, tiny motes of light to the ground. They cavort and arc, wiggling before they disappear into the ground.
The gnome stands and moves to the refreshments table, muttering into his hand briefly before he's refilling his mug. <handspeech>
"She hurts, too, and misses you. As a friend and trusted counsel."
Aryia blinks at the sudden declaration. She scratches her head, then lightly shrugs. She doesn't know who that is. Waves are afford to those departing, then to those arriving. But then she picks up the murmurs and mutterings of resolutions and wishes for personal goals to be met. Another huffs and a smirk. "Burn it. Accursed place. I'll help."
Though as Jinks gets up to refill his drink, the mute can't help but ponder a resolution for her own.
She takes a bangle off his wrist, and twists it about idly. The intricate jewelry shifting to a ring, then to a tiara, then to some odd triangle shape. "My resolution is..." A moment to think. Then, "... to be me."
Vague, but it seemed to give the mute some comfort. <Handspeech>
Seyardu ponders the question asked for some time, clearing off another skewer. "I will let you know if I see them, Paenitia, I promise."
"My resolution, if I would be resolved for anything?"
"I will make sure Aya comes back."
Cesran moves to get a drink and he nods politely to those he knows as he passes by. He listens as it appears that others are announcing their resolutions for the next year. He hmms softly as he takes a drink and Ral'sara turns to him, "What's up with them wanting to burn down the guild hall." Cesran shrugs, "I don't know." His eyes turn to focus on Seyardu as he hears their promise and he starts to make his way towards them.
Aryia's head whips over to Seyardu.
Mikilos plans to resurect a god, create a spell, break an ancient curse, and take it easy this year.
GAME: Seldan casts Message. Caster Level: 16 DC: 18
The response comes, quietly and soberly. "Many would call me friend. Few are."
Halfway to the exit, Seldan pauses, mere breaths after Jinks invokes his snippet of song. His gaze remains on the ground, but he does not move, and after a moment, raises his own hand, tracing a simple sigil in the air in response. Not even this act draws a smile to his features, more intent focus. When the spell is complete, he speaks quietly into his own hand, then moves to continue on his way -
- only to stop again at the mention of returning Aya. This time, he does turn around, his smile still entirely absent. "I pray only that she can be saved." Something in his tone suggests that he is not counting on that.
Then, he turns to Paenitia, and kneels down to her level. "Your support means much," he replies. "I have a memory that may aid you, although I know not from whence it comes. The tale is not a grand one, and if it does not interest you, then I shall not share it."
Braelnoir drifts by an array of confections on offer, casually swiping one with a salute toward those about, "'ere's to ya, luvvie!" and she moves along to what seems to be various vintages of her social circle congealing.
Her empty hand lifts into a wave, with a, "Evenin', all!"
"I have the interest, yes." Paenitia replies, sounding serious, her grinning mask contradicting everything she says. "For the found lost memory too. The truth is in the stories, I listen to them where ever I go."
"A marid told me it is possible." Seyardu states. "That is enough hope for me. And I would not give up even if not."
Seyardu looks to Mikilos, and chuckles. "If I have a candle on hand, I can catch up to Mikilos and Cesran, almost. Less and less feels out of reach. And, I owe it to Aya to try. She put her faith in us."
Jinks bumps the base of his fist into Cesran's hip in a familiar way of saying 'hello' at the refreshments table. He has his mug refilled now and can walk back with him. "Wrong guildhall, tallman. Hextus," the gnome corrects.
Coming back to stand before his pocketsquare picnic blanket, he crosses his ankles and folds down into a seated position again and holds out the mug to Aryia for the promised (if belated toast). "Burn it to the ground," he agrees.
After the toast is done his grin spreads wider and he looks across at the folks making their fresh promises to themselves. He refrains, too comfortable with easy promises, and sips the wine instead.
The gnome's smile goes lopsided and he looks from Aryia to Seyardu to Seldan. He tucks his chin and mutters into his coat collar.
"If I had few of a thing I'd hold it precious. Another chance for her and any task you'd have from me is yours for the asking." It's clearly important to the gnome, and probably misguided, but Jinks is trying to help. For whatever reason.
Aryia is busy watching Seyardu, then her gaze snaps over to Seldan. Her jaw tenses. Her lips form a line. Nostrils flare. Eyes shine brighter. Frame tensing as a hand lifts to defend her sister-
A breath in. And a breath out. Let it go.
She relaxes. And the hands that crush stone flow smooth like a river. Combined with Seyardu's additions, she signs, "Sister can be saved."
In her mind, it's an immutable fact.
Calm now, her gaze settles on the Korite woman. She grins a bit, then waves from her spot on the ground. "Hey girl." <Handspeech>
The toast is welcome, her accepting the mug and raising it in the belated toast. "B-rn -t t- th- gr-nd," she hisses out, and drinks.
Cesran looks down to Jinks, "Hextus? I'm sorry I'm not familiar with that guildhall. At least right off the top of my head." He moves over towards Seyardu, "Well I am here, what do you need to be caught up with. I've been researching Charn and the locations around which Aya seems to frequent whenever I use discern location to find her, unfortunately all my attempts to scry have been blocked. If you have any information that can help I've been trying to formulate a plan to free Aya from Charn."
Randolf settles back in his seat, lifting his pipe to start lazily pulling at it. Now and again he'll puff a couple artful smoke rings into the air. He skims over the various conversations in the air, idly swirling the beer in his mug as he flits his focus from face to face.
The conversation swirls, and Seldan seems to be outside of it. "We shall speak later," he tells Paenitia. "Go and enjoy yourself." He speaks quietly into his hand, and then rises, turning to stride from the party area without another word.
"If she would have a friend, she should begin by being one."
It's clearly misguided.
"If'n ya cain't burn it down, blow it up." Brae chimes in with a certain Korite glee, then rolls her shoulder in a shrug, "Or turn some engines on't."
She probably doesn't mean steam boilers.
She catches Aryia's sign, and she flicks back mathing gestures the Mul'niessa's way, "Hey, girl!" <handspeech>
She sobers some as she gets more of the primary topic of conversation, and she cradles her purloined sweetcake in her gauntletted hand, "Know who's got'er?" she asks, then brings up a halting hand, "Don't name'm, just yes'r no." she warns.
Aryia looks to Cesran, her brows shooting up. She gives Jinks a pat on the shoulder, appreciative for the drink as skulls the rest of it. Finished, she squints at the gnome, curious of what all this murmuring is about, but she lets that thread go.
She rises, then gestures to Cesran. "New information. Seyardu has the details. That person in Charn is probably just Aya's body. Puppeting it like the sick fuck they are." She produces a folded sheet of paper, and slides it into Cesran's pocket. There was no attempt at being sly.
The shadow elf steps up to Brae, her giving the Korite a clap on the arm. "Sort of. Seyardu knows more."
"I need to leave. Happy new year. Thanks for the drinks and the food," she signs off to the hosts before stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets and heading off. <Handspeech>
Jinks clenches his jaw in frustration, nostrils flaring. He slams the wine down an open gullet, expertly pouring so the liquid doesn't even hit the inside of his mouth on the way down. With a frown and a grunt he just tosses the cup away into the bushes without looking. "Coyote laughs," he laments.
Randolf takes ahold of his pipe so he can drain his beer mug. Jinks' declaration has him perking a bushy red brow. "Ye say that a lot, laddie," he says. "But I can never tell... is Coyote laughin' a -good- thing or a -bad- thing?"
"Yes." Jinks answers.
The Red Knight nods as the other paladin departs. She doesn't leave the party but she does go to check on Ramirez. This means bringing him some food, and if she's doing that she might as well bring some for herself, as well as a pitcher they can drink.
She loads up a tray and balances it well. She has some experience serving in a tavern, somehow, and strong arms. Heavy armour likely does that. The tray of food winds its way out to the white hippogryph.
There the little knight tucks under the wing of her brave steed, and they have a discrete dinner. A part of the party, but also aparty a part.
Her glass is raised every time a new resolution is made. It is a Happy New Year.
Seyardu waves off those who were leaving, and she looks to Braelnoir at the question. The cleric looks up, and nods slowly.
Randolf hrrms. "Well, serves -me- right fer askin', dunnit?" He hops to his feet, offering a two-fingered salute to his friends. "Happy New Year, friends. May it be a blessed one." Turning, he goes to take his leave, humming a jaunty tune as he goes.
Braelnoir returns the clap from Aryia, "Be strong girl." she offers in valediction, then turns her attentiont to Seyardu. She nods simply once, then, "Good t'know, luv." she notes with a faint little smile.
"Happy New Year, all of you." Seyardu agrees, waving off her friends. "I know what needs to be done, and we can speak another time. For now, there is food that should not go to waste."
Cesran nods, "All right we will speak another time." He says as he pats the the pocket that Ayria put the paper in to make sure it's secure so he can read it later." He moves over to get some food, "So Jinks what is this guild hall that you wish to burn down. Hextus right?"
"Hm?" Jinks looks up from his fuming, pulling his ring-laden fingers away from his face. "Oh, yes. Charn. Hextus. There's something about a guildhall there; 'persuasive' properties." The gnome tries to bring his focus back to the party, turning to look for the mug of mulled wine and remembering he threw it away.
"They'd managed to enthrall a whole host of mercenaries; gnearly had us, too," he explains. Standing to get more wine was a possibility but he had a perfectly good flask in his coat. He reaches for the inside pocket and has the lid screwing off with a quiet scratching noise before its even in sight.
"Absolute batards."
Braelnoir nods to the silverscale's words, "Course, luv." and she claps the sith's arm for a moment, "Best we get t'munchin' then, eh?"
Her attention turns to Jinks for a moment, a somewhat businesslike cast to her expression, "We get some time later, think ya can recall any banners, luvvie?"
She finally deigns to take abite out of her little sqeetcake, chewing some, swallowing, then she asides to Seyardu, "Eggs come along pretty well."
Cesran ahs a little bit, "I can see why you would want to burn it down then. I'm glad you were able to escape." He says as he eats a few tidbits off the table and takes a drink. "Aye they are, how did you end up there in Charn if you don't mind me asking."
"Case of the Giggles," Jinks grins, flashing his eyebrows before having his first drink from the flask.
"If I remember the banners later, I wull let you know."
Seyardu looks to Braelnoir, and gives a tired sigh, but a happy smile with it. "Yes, the nests are doing well. I am exhausted, but happy for all of them."
Braelnoir smirks.
Giggles, indeed.
She shrugs it off, then, "It was an experience." she notes, hesitating before hew next bite to add, "Cryo's happy."
"Cryo is happy. Jinks is happy, I hope." Seyardu agrees, the smile wavering a moment. "One mother needs much more care, and I am one of the most qualified to assist."
Jinks laughs at something and shakes his head. "I'm around. And not hard to find." It's probably difficult to blend in when you dress the way the bard does. A tilt of the head and he nods, then shrugs. "Weird dreams, though," he adds onto Seyardu's assessment
The gnome sloshes the flask in toast and blinks eyelids that are going progressively more leaden. "Should go while I can still find the house." He nods and starts to stumble his way away from the party.
"Case of the Giggles?" Cesran asks curiously although not entirely sure how to respond to that. He waves to Jink, "Have a good evening."
"Case of the Giggles," Jinks confirms. He slides a finger down his nose and points at Cesran conspiratorily. He winks and cants his head at Braelnoir. "Tallman knows what I'm talking about."
The bard turns, half-stumbling into a bush and spinning again to continue on his way. He issues some rapidfire Gnomish swears until he's not tripping over his own feet. Then comes the singing.
Braelnoir waves with her pastry as the bard heads off, "'ave a good one!" she offers, then turns to Cesran a moment, "Long story, if it's the same li'l joke we're about. Not great conversation out'n about, though."
Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, then she looks to Seyardu, "I'm glad ya's there, luv. I ain't much fer that sorta advice."
She can tell you how to use pigs as a siege weapon, but not how to raise a kid.
Cesran ahs, "Well I'm merely asking as I'm looking to gather more information about Charn. Looking to rescue someone from Charn."
"We need both parts." Seyardu states as Cesran mentions it. "The marid said her soul is in the underworld. A trial is needed to retrieve it, and it must be reunited with her body."
"Makes sense." Brae remarks thoughtfully, "One'r the other's just half the picture." to Seyardu's words.
She turns to Cesran and nods, "There's a bit going on in Charn, makes it awkward t'name certain principles. Best t'act like namin' any player out there'll get an eye on ya from afar."
Cesran ahs, "I see, well the underworld is something that I can research further to see what we need to do to get her soul back." He shakes his head, "They can try, but I am protected from any divination spells."
"Please, look into it if you can. I will as well, Cesran." Seyardu asks. "I just want Aryia and Cryosanthia's friend back. To be able to get to know Aya well enough to call her friend as well."
The cleric falls silent, and turns to focus on her food.
Braelnoir reaches out to either of her fellows in turns, gently clapping an arm after passing her pastry to the other hand.
"We'll set'r right, luv. You'll see."
Cesran nods, 'I am doing my best with the information that I can find. I should get going as well I need to rest so I can start this new line of research. Have a good evening."
The Cat with the Meats
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "One of my first cats, Mo, had a taste for the local deli meats. One day, my parents were out and so my dad went to go get deli meats, and to make sure he had some to share with the cat. When he got home, my mom called him to ask if he had gotten the meat, he said yes, and my mom said he'd gotten the wrong kind, and that the cat would hate it. My dad said, "Oh, he's a cat. He won't care." and proceeded to put some meat on the floor when the cat asked for it. The cat CHEWED HIM OUT and stomped off."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "My dad, who had never really understood what people saw in cats or understood cats at all before, suddenly understood."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "He got bawled out by a cat for getting the wrong deli meats."