There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess

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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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Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 0s 10h

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Ferry <E> Alexandrian Gates <S> North <N>

West <W>

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<Meet> You offer to meet Sandy.

Sandy has arrived.

<Meet> Sandy joins you.

It's Kesenday, Rhaltaas 26 23:44:42 1014. The full moon is up. The tide is high and rising.

The world is dark and foggy. Everything is half-hidden, nothing clearly seen. It's chilly and the air feels damp. No wind blows.

Svarshan sits near the side of the road. Mana-lamps light the way closer to the City, and their distant glow is barely felt, here. He sits on the earth, a stick in hand, with which he's slowly tracing patterns that occasionally, he doesn't scrub away. His scales glow faintly--or rather, the inbetween, those magma-filled lines that run between the islands. Srassha, looking distracted, has wandered a few yards away.

<Meet> You offer to meet Cinnamon.

Cinnamon has arrived.

Azog has arrived.

Svarshan sits near the side of the road. Mana-lamps light the way closer to the City, and their distant glow is barely felt, here. He sits on the earth, a stick in hand, with which he's slowly tracing patterns that occasionally, he doesn't scrub away. His scales glow faintly--or rather, the inbetween, those magma-filled lines that run between the islands. Srassha, looking distracted, has wandered a few yards away. (repose)

<Meet> Your meetme offer to Cinnamon expires.

Oh, hey, look... It's fire! And what's that rumbling sound!? Why, it's a bear! With something green stuck on its back. The green thing seems to be arguing as they plod down the road,"Okay, okay. Hear me out... Look, I KNOW we're out of fish heads, but I just haven't had time to go by the market. The pig's feet are almost as good, though, and you know it!" The bear rumbles in a whiney manner to that.

Azog is riding down from the hills, joining the road and heading towards the city, the freshly dressed carcas of a small buck across the withers of his mount. Looks like he's been out hunting. He calls a greeting to Svarshan as he spots him by the mana lamp, then looks over at the bear and goblin, offering a nod of greeting to them as well.

"SVARSHAN."

The words are sharp coming from Sandy and her arrival is probably to no one's surprise. "What is the meaning of this?" she demands, hands on her hips. She's glaring at him. "I went home today and I SAW what you did." She points a finger accusingly.

Svarshan looks up at the sound. The movement's marked by a shifting glow of reds, and after another moment there's a small burst of flame and the sound of a torch being set into the earth. The result shows the sith'makar and a portion of the area around him, its light a warm contrast to the cool of the mana-lamp. Beneath the light shows a patch of earth and a pile of rustle, the sort one might make for an evening's rest. In front him are a series of drawings, scratched into the earth. "Sa. Ser Cinnamon, Scar-Warrior. May you find ssshelter beneath Ancestors' Wings." And then a longer pause, a longer one indeed. And he goes back to his drawing without answering Sandy. But, someone with good vision and a mana-lamp might see the flicker of a smile that hovers there, then quits.

Cinnamon inclines her head to Svarshan,"May you find comfort in the Mother's Embrace." This in reference to the earth. Meanwhile, Primrose has begun to approach the campsite sniffing around for lost or dropped food,"This gentleman..." She gestures to Azog,"... a true champion among warriors. You are acquainted with one another? I... Uh... huh. Look. It's... Lady... uh... Sandiel. Harbinger of chaos." Hard to think up proper titles for that one.

Azog looks over as Sandy calls out to Svarshan, and bows to her, stiffly - as much as his heavy armor and saddle allow. "Good evening," he says, his accented Tradespeak formal, looking over to see what exactly is going on. He nods to Cinnamon as she addresses him as a champion, "We have met, yes," he agrees. Hopefully Primrose won't be too interested in the deer carcass he's bringing home.

"A room. An entire room. Defaced! DEfiled! You drew demons all over the walls! I think they're demons, anyways. They have wings. Those WERE wings, right?" asks Sandy, irritably. "ALL OVER. With blood. I think that was blood, anyways. It was blood righT? STILL. YOU DREW THEM ON THE WALLS. EVERYWHERE!" A finger is accusingly pointed at Svarshan still.

Svarshan does look up, then. And then a slow grin. "You like it. ...ssshe only yells. Like this. When she likes something," he tells Azog before looking back. And he pauses a while, falling silent while he settles on his haunches, and chooses over words to say though he looks pleased enough, as though Sandy had just paid him the highest thanks.

And perhaps she had.

Perhaps he's also secretly a jerk.

"Sa. I had hoped it would be a sssurprise. For after..." his voice trails off and he looks down to the earth again. And to Cinnamon, and then back to the earth, more thoughtfully.

Azog's attention is moving between Sandy and Svarshan back and forth, puzzled and waiting for some sort of revelation as to what's going on. This promises to be interesting. To Svarshan, he wonders, "Are you sure about that? She sounds mad to me."

Cinnamon watches Sandy for a long moment, then without breaking eye-contact, reaches down to where her water skin hangs from her saddle and pours some water on her hand. Then she flicks water droplets at Sandy,"Bad! Down girl! Heel!"

Constantin has arrived.

Constantin joins Sandy.

"A surprise. A SURPRISE. Oh, it was a *Surprise*, all right," says Sandy, "SURPRI-," and thne Cinnamon is telling her to heel. She stares at her. Just stares. "Did... did you really just do that?" she asks her.

Nearby the road, a torch of a kind has been stuck in the ground. It provides a more immediate set of illumination, along with the occasional torch or mana-light carried by the road-traveler. These lights illuminate an animated scene--a sildanyari, incensed, and standing in the middle of the road, with Cinnamon standing nearby. Azog, with a shadowy object that hangs over his shoulder, and at the side of the road a sith'makar, possibly the only one sitting down. A pile of leaves and brush lies behind this last figure, the sort a traveler might make for a rest.

Svarshan reaches down and wipes away his previous earth-scratches. The earth shows remembered gouges, lines, where the deeper of the gestures had been. And he starts again, slowly, painstakingly. He draws a circle and mutters, "Alexandria," before pausing thoughtfully. And he glances at the enraged sildanyari, then, and falls silent again. Words. They're just... He closes his eyes. But it doesn't stop the quiet grin at Cinnamon's spritzing of Sandy.

Cinnamon lifts her shoulders in a shrug to the woman, looking... helpless? "Well... you were acting kind of vicious and it works with Primrose. Figured it was worth a shot. And... it did get you to stop, soooo..."

Azog smirks.

Azog frowns at Cinnamon's words to Sandy. He tells her, "You should speak with respect to one of the city's greatest heroes and most powerful people. Her heroic actions have kept this city safe and averted tragedies. You should treat her with respect." He is, by his tone, completely serious. "What exactly was done?" he asks curiously. "And ... I am willing to assist if there is ... cleaning to be done." That seems to be said with somewhat greater reluctance.

Constantin comes sauntering down the road, looking pleased (maybe just to be himself). He slows, ears perking up. Primrose? "Ah, Lady Cinnamon! Impaling evil again?"

"I... FINE," says Sandy at Cinnamon, glowering at her. She can't really debate the point that was just made since it's largely true. Then she grunts at Azog and waves a hand in his direction, "Don't worry about it. It's fine. Really." It really did work.

Svarshan pauses again, and with a smile, points towards the south and west of the 'Alexandria' marking. There, he draws a set of triangles, with sticks at their bottoms. ...and in their center, one of the demon-figures Sandy now has on the walls of one of her rooms. "Hunt," he says. A smart mind, a smart mind like Sandy's, might figure this out, even with its gestures and minimal wording. The place on the map, with its "trees" and "demons" is likely the Felwood. Then there's that pesky religious holiday coming up in a few days, called the "Hunt" outright...

And so. A paladin. Made her a "holy room." To celebrate the holiday in style.

Chomping demons.

And damned if he doesn't look pleased with himself, because he has a claw alongside his nose. And adds slyly, "Gift. Invite your friendsss, Sandy. I have bought javelins. Spears." Pause. "Beer. For afterwards." He nods to the Blood Rose after that, though doesn't say a word. The last few minutes have already exhausted his supply.

Cinnamon merely nods to Azog,"All true. But she's also frequently terrible about treating others with kindness and respect. She bravely faced me in a joust, once, and I had no cause to doubt her behavior there... But that does not excuse the shouting. That being said... How are you this fine day, sir?" This directed at Svarshan. "Do you plan to clean the room up after the celebration?"

Azog nods slowly to Sandy. He shrugs dismissively about kindness and respect. "It is the place of the weak to show respect to the strong and the brave, not the reverse. She has earned the right to say as she will by her actions." Kindness draws a blank look. He tries to figure out Svarshan's drawing, looking back to Sandy and to the Sith'makar, reaching up to scratch his head. Hunting, he more or less understands.

Constantin nods politely to Svarshan, looks about Sraasha with a bit of a disappointed look, then tucks his hands into his sleeves.

"Of course he doesn't," remarks Sandy, dryly, to Cinnamon. Then she shrugs her shoulders and adds, "Demons. Alwyas with the bloody demons." She reaches down into her pouch, produces a flask, and takes a long drink from it. She's going to need it after a day like today, that much is clear.

Cinnamon shakes her head at Constantin,"Not at the moment, sir. What of you? We were speaking of hunting, you see." She reaches out to ruffle the head of her bear,"I believe it is the place of the strong to respect all, though that is only my personal believe. As warriors, we live off the food that farmers provide, and the weapons and armor the craftsmen manufacture. We are strong and brave. That does not make us more or less valuable."

Svarshan looks sly after that, and though he winks at Cinnamon, he otherwise doesn't say. a. word. It's a style of humor as old as the earth, itself. And what? Goad the demon-elf, the hipster-hip hurricane? Well, maybe when Daeus took away a paladin's 'fear' he replaced it with 'stupidity.' He glances at the flask, though, and makes a sound in his throat as he rests back on his haunches once again.

Azog bows his head again to Sandy, shaking his head slowly. There's not much he can say to Svarshan's silence, but to Cinnamon, he says, "Cobblers and farmers do not fight off demons and slay trolls. They do not fight off the enemies who would kill the salesmen and smiths. There is respect due for one who has kept others safe at personal risk." He offers half a nod to Constantin, deep in the debate.

A pause. Sandy looks between Azog and Cinnamon. She's interested to see how the goblin will respond to this, actually, it'd seem. Then she leans over towards Svarshan and says, "You ARE cleaning it," flatly, to him. Constantin is noticed. She gives him a flat stare. He deserves it so far as she's concerned.

"Ah!" exclaims Connie, "Hunting! How noble! All of that running and shooting and eating lovely food!"He gives alittle smile, "How wonderful -- praise to Gilead." He nods to Svarshan and just smiles at Sandy. It's the best policy.

Svarshan responds with a solemn look worthy of a Trickster, if only for a fleeting moment. And then he breaks into an outright grin, silent laughter wheezing between his teeth. "Sa, sa..." Near the group, there's a rustle--a large creature, though not one trying to be silent or subtle. Srassha. She pokes her head out from the trees for a moment, before starting to pull it back in.

Cinnamon merely shakes her head,"Farming is dangerous, backbreaking work for many. Many farmers indeed die in the field, as to engineers, and craftsmen. Yes, warriors are taking personal risk on, but they're doing it at their own choice. And in the end, it benefits us warriors as much as it does the farmers. Everyone would die if we didn't. Just as everyone would die if farmers didn't farm, or crafters didn't craft. A job is no less worthy of respect simply because a sword does not hang over your head." She wheels the bear about, apparently readying to depart, and informs Svarshan,"I think your matron steed is rather shy."

Azog snorts contemptuously at the risk faced by farmers and engineers. "I think you are not clear on how farming works." He shrugs, "Everyone dies eventually, and some may die when attacked in their fields, defending themselves with a scythe as best they can. But most do not. As for respect, you confuse respect with honor. A farmer is necessary, yes, I do not argue that. But honor is when you face your enemies and defeat them. Not when you feed someone else who takes the risk of a sword in the heart for you."

Shy? SHY. Srassha tosses her head and steps forward. The step rustles the branches, not a lady-like approach at all...and the look she gives on seeing The Bear is suddenly anything but.

There can be only one, that narrow-eyed gaze says. THE POSITION OF LOVELY PRINCESS ANIMAL HAS ALREADY BEEN FILLED.

At this, Svarshan clicks his teeth together, and falls quiet again. He looks briefly towards the Blood Rose, and taps the ground nearby with the short drawing-stick. Wordlessly, offering a seat.

"Mmn. I like this conversation," says Sandy, casually, to Azog and Cinnamon. "Do continue." a little wave of her hand as an idnication tha they ought to do so. "Good," she tells Svarshan. "VEry good. Because if you hadn't, I'd have punched you. In fact, I owe you." and that's when she slugs Svarshan right in the jaw. Pretty damn hard, actually.

Cinnamon looks over her shoulder at Azog, and simply says,"I disagree." OH REGINALD! I DISAGREE! And like that, she's riding off... but not before tossing a pig's foot treat in Srassha's general direction,"There you go, brave strong girl." As for the challenge that has been issued... Welll... Primrose is either too lazy, too stupid, or both to notice that her status as Princess Animal is being threatened.

Azog eyes the bear and the raptor warily, patting his horse on the neck as if to reassure it. It glances back stoicly, without comment as it were. He's amused at Sandy's comment, though when she comes and hauls off to clobber the huge warrior, he looks even more impressed. He's not going to get in the way of settling old scores, though. At least not when they're doing it with fists. He nods in farewell to Cinnamon as she departs, stepping clear himself so Sandy and Svarshan have room to settle whatever it is they're settling. Maybe the shrine doesn't go with Sandy's decor?

Svarshan lands on his back and for a while stares at the lovely stars overhead.

If they'd stop spinning. He grunts after that before making his way back into a crouch, and his look doesn't deny that he did deserve that. Save he pauses a while after getting up, and holds up a pair of fingers, signaling 'two'. Just that, and nothing more.

Srassha meanwhile sniffs and stands up straighter. Doubtless there is some terrible B-theatre monologue going through her mind at the moment, perhaps something like: and as the dust settles, the victor stands straight and tall before the sunset, her gorgeous cape whipping in the wind as the horrible, ugly witch tucks her tail between her legs and crawls off into the horrid, stinky swamps...

Probably something very like that.

Constantin fingerwaggles towards Sraasha, then gives out a little sigh, and moves to stand closer to the torch. That way, his flowers will catch the light!

Srassha just gets a look from Sandy and then she gives a nod towards Svarshan. "Yeah, I thought so," she tells him with a gruint. Then she turns back to Azog and says, "You don't need to defend my honor, but thank you none the less."

And so, the Archnemesis of Pretty Pretty Princessdom is temporarily subdued (in Srassha's mind) and the raptor turns about, her head held as high as any warrior's who'd just accomplished a difficult feat.

It was a BEAR.

So perhaps, she'd had. She struts over towards Constantin, looking at him but not looking at him, as though to say: look! I have vanquished the adversary the Stinky Bear of Unprincesslike Poise, and am deserving of praise. But she cannot say this Outright, that would be Vain. And Unseemly. Of a Princess. And so she tilts her head to the side, offering opportunity for pets and scritches should they somehow, for any reason whatsoever, appear.

• preen*

And Svarshan, doubtless nursing an aching jaw, takes out a flask and salutes the Scar-Warrior with it.

Azog watches as Svarshan takes the shot from Sandy, nodding gravely as they settle things as warriors. He nods as Constantin makes his way over. "How are you this evening?" he asks casually. A deer, already field-dressed, lays across the withers of his horse - seems he'd been on his way back from hunting. He smirks at Sandy's comment about defending her honor. He replies simply, "It was not my place to intervene, but I thought if it was misunderstanding, then I could clarify."

Constantin provides Sraasha scritches, just because. I mean, really, he appreciates a good queen.

"Words," Svarshan replies solemnly to Azog. Meaning the Scar-Warrior is good at them where he is not, and the sith takes another drink from the flask. He falls silent after that, though Srassha stands there, preening. I am so pretty, that seems to say. Pretty, and shiny, and FIERCE!

Sandy growls after Svarshan and then turns on Azog. She points a finger at him and says, "I know. You were well intentioned. I'm just saying." She then grumbles something under her breath about 'goblins' and 'jousts'.

Azog smirks at Svarshan's brevity offering a nod of farewell as he turns to head his mount not towards town, but further away. He bows his head to Sandy, "Do not despair that your heroism is not respected. Those players were making another production to showcase your mighty deeds. That is how sagas are done in the city, I think. It is fitting." He offers a nod of farewell to Constantin before heading off up the road.