Skielstregar's Arrival

Log Info

• Title: Skielstregar's Arrival
• Emitter: Vaera
• Characters: Vaera, Skielstregar
• Place: H03: Eldwyn Road
• Time: Monday, August 23, 2021, 10:00 PM
• Summary:.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* H03: Eldwyn Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Eldwyn Road meanders continuously around hills, wilderness, and farmland, though it is occasionally broken by fingerlets from the great Tornmawr. At one point, the road crosses the Tornmawr itself, which takes place by use of a ferry.

Further east and past the ferry are the great Redridge Mountains. These mountains, which run mostly north and south, charge through the landscape, and even through the eastern end of the Lord's City of Alexandria.

Towards the south is the city, with its flags rising far above the walls. The fiery Rising Phoenix almost glows in the sunlight and airships may be seen both in flight and in dock, as they make use of a carefully sculpted section of the Redridge.

Towards the north, the landscape of rolling hills and farmland breaks into denser forest.

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It was a pleasant day in alexandria, free from the heat that had been ever present for the last few weeks. In a small clearing off the main road of alexandria, a fair walk away, there was a small camp, with the remains of a fire, a lean to, and a covered rack, as well as the remains of a deer that had been butchered. And underneath the shelter was a large, dark red sith-makar, who was watching the fire, and the forest around it with a bow in their lap.

There's a faint noise, way off to the east that carries on the wind. A clink. A drag. A step. A clink. A drag. A step. Cresting over a hill some fifty paces away was a lumbering figure. They pause, sniffing at the air before turning towards the camp. A bronze gleam flashing from the sun before they begin to slowly walk towards the red makari's camp sight.

Down a hill, they vanish. Then up a hill again, not more than ten paces away, was a bone shaking sight for any from am'shere. A tall, large sith-makar with many weapons on them and heavily armored, their tail dragging along the dirt. Their talons long, fangs protruding out of their maw, scales tarnished and missing in patches, and an empty look about their silver eyes.

And instead of a fight, they hold out a hand, palm up. "Peace on your nest," the walking corpse rasps out in a rumble, hands empty of any weapons. Now that the scent caught up with them, they smelled vaguely of death, avoidance. <Draconic>

GAME: Vaera rolls perception: (17)+8: 25

The dark red sith-makar was not unalert in their camp while they waited. The noise was the first thing to be picked up. They were on their feet now, watching the figure coming closer. Over every hill, watching the figure. The bow was nocked, but not drawn, as she watches the figure enter the camp.

"There is none." She replies, her tone, expression, even scent neutral and unreadable. "But peace on your nest. Explain yourself. You have no weapons out, this is true, but that does not change much. What brings you to this camp?"

The bronze scale blinks a few times, a 'snick' of a sound that didn't clear out the empty look in his eyes. A hint of worry crept into the scent of decay. Somehow. "This one travels for a long while through the lands, and happens across first sign of life that isn't the land itself," he offers in explanation, felt more than heard. As he speaks, a hand moves up to cover his maw out of habit. "Perhaps red scale would not mind sparing time to give this one bearings." <Draconic>

He shifts a bit, the array of weapons on him softly clanking against one another.

This explanation makes the red sith-makar tilt their head just a bit. They watch the hand covering their face, and the claws on said hand. "If this one is the first living person you have met in these lands, then it is unknown what to expect for myself." They state, keeping the bow ready and stepping a bit away. "This one will listen, yes. Just do not make any sudden movements with your weapon. This one has never heard one such as yourself speak."

It was strange, for certain. But she knew that it could just as easily be a trap as any genuine request for assistance. <Draconic>

Again, he turns his palms skyward, inadvertently showing bite scars all along the insides of his forearms. As a gestures of good will, he lowers himself to the ground, using his armored tail to keep him steady before he crosses his legs. He gives a long exhale, and bows his head. "This one understands," he submits, hand raising again to his maw. "Yourself listens, though this one requests answers. What more vetting should you have this one do?" <Draconic>

Vaera glances to the arms, and to the bronze sith-makar. She finally puts the arrow back somewhere in her jacket, but holds onto the bow.

"You understand, then you know why this one is concerned." She says, looking down to where they sat. "This one is not the one who should be vetting. But I would just make sure it is safe enough to speak with you. You will not attack, yes?" They ask, one scaled brow raised questioningly. "And ask your questions. This one will answer what they can."

<Draconic>

"This one has no intention to attack. Only if yourself stays your hand," he nods again. Submitted as they were, they were not stranger to keeping themselves safe should they have to. "This one's questions are what they mentioned prior. Bearings. A hunter-caste such as you, this one feels as if yourself could tell me some points of interest." <Draconic>

"This one is not hunter caste." She says. Finally she lets go of the bow and stows it on her back. "This is the softskin city of Alexandria. It has people from all places gathered within, various places to stay, temples for the faithful, and markets for goods."

A thought crosses her mind. "Are you hungry? If you have been traveling so long, you can have something to eat there." <Draconic>

"This apologizes for mis-caste," he dips his head politely, a thumb resting on his nose to keep his hand in place. Somehow, the corpse's eyes widen in surprise. "A softskin city? This one has heard of Alexandria, they did not realize they were so close. This is good news."

The large makari's face lifts a hint, the light smell of death mingling with elation. "You would share your hunt? Thank you, this one accepts." <Draconic>

"Yes, you are quite close, this one is surprised you did not realize. Have you been avoiding the roads?" They ask with another raised brow as they step backwards, until they reach the rack that is uncovered, hung with numerous strips of meat. She takes a cloth and gathers several strips, while taking some of the butchered deer, skewering it, and propping it against the coals. And then she steps over, slowly, to offer the jerky.

"It is too much for one person regardless. Why were you looking for Alexandria, then?"

<Draconic>

The large sith-makar shakes his head, the motion flashing the too large teeth. "No. This one left a roving band in mid travel, picked a direction, and walked. Prefer it be the independence of the softskin city rather than the clutches of ill. Though, it has been some time since I had spoken with another makari. And even longer that they had not tried to shoot this one," he explains in that rumble from before. He leans forward, and appreciative scent mingling for a moment as he gingerly takes the jerky. Careful about his long talons and how they clank together. "Thank you."

There's a long sigh, a talon scratching at an empty patch of scales before he answered. "Less about finding Alexandria, and more returning back to civilization in general." <Draconic>

"This one, is still not sure what to make of you." They admit. "If you scratch they're not going to grow back properly. You should bandage the spots in that case." She adds with a glance to the talon. Strange, they were accepting the deer, even seemed to be eating it, while speaking.

"So you have been away for a long time, and left a traveling group to come here. How?" They ask. The neutral expression breaking for just a moment, with a scent of shock.

The tarnished bronze scale finally takes a bite of the offered food, too long, razer sharp teeth cleanly tearing off a piece of it and inhaling it. He gives a somber nod. "This one understands your weariness. As they are weary of themselves. The scales do not grow. They have been missing for some time."

Another bite, the rest of the offered deer was gone. His head cants to the side. "How? I said farewell, and left. Oruch tribes tend to be straightforward." Amusement mingled with the decay. <Draconic>

"You are wary of yourself?" Vaera asks, tilting their head, and backing up to gather more of the meat to offer.

"That is not what I mean. How are you able to stand here and speak with me, accept food without being sick? This one is being blunt, yes. But this one would have at least some explanation."

<Draconic>

He rubs the nape of his neck. "... to be honest, scale sister, this one is uncertain. This one... will not lie, the hunger for kin is there. But long has this one learned to squash it. By all accounts, this one should already be returned to the soil." <Draconic>

They take a step back. "How can this one trust it to remain squashed?" She asks. It was taking much for them to stay under control, and they fidgeted just a bit. "Yet you still eat other things. So this one is unsure. And you are not passed, you speak with what seems like a sound mind. Is it safe for you to be in the city, then?"

There is a small gulp, and he sighs. "Your venison is delicious," he murmurs in a rumble. The should be dead sith-makar makes no move as the other takes a defensive step backwards. Another sigh, the empty eyes looking up at the redscale. It makes sense this would happen.

"You have no reason to trust. That is wise. This one has been around many others while being like this, but... not around kin."

He sniffs the air, looking right at the red hunter. "This one can smell you. But the thought of acting on it fills this one with dread and remorse." The tarnished scale hangs his head and puts a hand back flat against the ground, looking as if to stand. The man mumbles, dejectedly "This one can leave." <Draconic>

"You are welcome." She says simply, standing in place now, watching the bronze Makari. She pauses, seeming to think long for a moment, before she chuffs. "sit by the fire, the fresh meat should be done soon. Just do not make me regret this decision. I would have my own understanding, before you meet others."

The man pauses, halfway having gotten up before giving a slight smile and sitting back down with a clank. He slides closer to the fire. "This one thanks you, you are too kind," he bows his head. "Please ask what you may to understand better."

"This one wishes to understand, and hopes that the kindness is not too much. You say that this one is the first kin you have come across." She says, kneeling down to take the skewers and turn them over. "You are not with them, correct? You are your own self, seeking something, in Alexandria?" <Draconic>

Skielstregar says, "The first this one has come across since..." he gestures to himself. "No. This one escape their battlefield long ago. They are themselves. Seeking nothing specific. Just seeking. Perhaps a way to undo this...""

"Then, this is the first time, to try and be used to, whatever happened." Vaera offers. "This one is sorry, they cannot be sure of any way to undo it."

"Take care of yourself, take care of others, if you are in control of yourself, then, that is not a bad thing."

"This one can control it," he says to both himself and her. Affirming it. He shakes his head. "This one understands. And will need to seek shamans for guidance then for this forgotten warrior. This one goes by Skielstregar." He bows his head.

"I will take your word for it, for now. Do not speak of yourself as forgotten, you are not." Vaera replies. They were unsure, but they did not show it.

"Perhaps this one should speak to them first, let them know what happened."

She reaches to take the skewers, and offers one to Skielstregar. "This one is called Vaera. No Caste."

Skielstregarbows his head in thanks once more, taking the food. There is a scent of confusion at the label of no caste, but he doesn't comment on it. "Vaera. Pleased to meet you. If... you would do that, this one would be in your debt."

"I will see, what I can do. This thinks it would be best for them to be aware, before you show up." She suggest.

"There is no debt, it is an offer for the sake of others around here, and yourself. Do not think of it as such."

"You should have time as well, to settle in to the place. There are inns outside and in the city, if you need. Or if you would rather stay out here, this one could help you set up a camp."

Skielstregar shrugs slowly be scratches the underside of his jaw, a singular bite taking all the meat off in one go. "Very well. Perhaps an inn outside the city, should you point the way for this one. Your offer for camp is appreciated."

Vaera kicks out the coals, showing the wooden limb more clearly underneath the long jacket. With that finished, she works on stowing the jerky in a pouch, which is set in her jacket as well.

"There is also a river nearby, should you wish to wash up. Just west of here."

She walks over to where Skielstregar was sitting, and they move to offer an arm, but it pulls back, before being offered again. "The wayfarer's inn should be one of the options nearby. Do you have coin for inn fare?" <Draconic>

Skielstregar shows his hands before blinking and taking the offered arm and standing. Despite his size and strength, he is quite careful of how he uses it, and doesn't pull Vaera down. A glance is stolen towards the leg before he slowly nods, a hand rattling a coin pouch on his hip. "This one should have enough. Thank you once more for your hospitality. Peace on your nest, Vaera." With that, he bows his head again, and sets off in a direction he is pointed towards. The smell of decay and gratitude following after him.

Skielstregar has left.

Vaera stepped back, and gave Skieltregar the directions he asks for. She watches them leave, until they were completely out of earshot and view.

They sit down, pulling out an empty metal casing from their coat. She stares at it for a long time, and the last embers of the fire.

"There is none." She says to herself. Something she had told herself time and time again. Yet for the first time, there was another shred of doubt to the response. Had she acted too rashly? <Draconic>

The dark red Sith-Makar sighs, and stows the casing back in her coat.