Wizard and Son's

It figures that the day they took down the tent would be the day it would choose to rain. It's even been raining all day.

In truth, that the makeshift tent at the edge of Mictlan is coming down is a good thing for all - that means that it is no longer needed. Figures move in the dark and the mud, but the entire place is most noticeable for points of light - a branch jammed deeply into the sodden ground glows at its upturned end with a golden-silver light, lighting the work being done, and a blue-white disk of magical force floats nearby, approximately half-loaded and covered with an oiled skin to keep the rain out of the concave disk.

Seldan works quickly and efficiently to bring down the tent, feeling the best he's felt in weeks. Rain? No problem. Harrowing day? Bah. There's only one thing that he cares about and is deeply grateful for, and that is that he feels -normal-. The fire inside the tent has already been extinguished, and everything that is going in it has already gone in it and been burned to sodden ash while he took shelter in the tent long enough to conduct a very, very long, and very, very grateful meditation and prayer session. Now, its remains smoke gently, the smoke dampened by the wet air. It can still be smelt, and it doesn't smell good.

Malik, for his part, works with a calm assurance, a tiny torchstone buzzing around him as he moves. His cloak is pulled up as he works on putting some things in saddlebags on the single horse that they have, though he's making no effort to dismantle the tent at the moment. It's a tsuran affair, brightly colored and festive while managing to look entirely functional, and on the larger side. But there's a smile on his face, and some newfound spring in his step, looking over to Seldan and giving the man an easy whistle as he tosses an apple his way. "Better eat," he tells him. "You were out for -- awhile."

And there is the Malik that Seldan remembers, not always fondly. This time, though, it's a little different. Surprised by the sudden toss, Seldan reflexively lunges for the fruit, but it hits the tips of his fingers and bounces into the muddy grass. "Warn me next time, Malik. How long was I out for?" He retrieves the apple as he speaks, and his features light up as he speaks the words of a quick cantrip. A single gesture, and the mud is gone.

He pauses in his dismantling of the tent to bite into the fruit, suddenly hungry. "When we return to Alexandria, I mean to find a hot meal. What say you?"

And there is the Malik that Seldan remembers, not always fondly. This time, though, it's a little different. Surprised by the sudden toss, Seldan reflexively lunges for the fruit, but it hits the tips of his fingers and bounces into the muddy grass. "Warn me next time, Malik. How long was I out for?" He retrieves the apple as he speaks, and his features light up as he speaks the words of a quick cantrip. A single gesture, and the mud is gone.

He pauses in his dismantling of the tent to bite into the fruit, suddenly hungry. "When we return to Alexandria, I mean to find a hot meal. What say you?" Munch munch munch as he speaks around an apple.

Hun'rar comes walking through the foliage wearing his full armor, his wyvern skin cloak wrapped up and around both his shoulders to keep any dripping water and the like from the pauldrons of his armor, the heat of the jungle a familiar warmth. "You are hard to find." he all he says as he steps into the clearing, breaking out in a grin. "How do you guys feel?"

"Almost three days," Malik tells him, rolling his eyes at the absolute failure to catch on the man's part. "It's a good thing that the apple isn't bearing any evil magic," he teases the paladin, "like in the old children's fables." But there's an undercurrent of worry in his voice. Seldan's catch might have been barely off, but so was Malik's throw. Neither of of them are at their best, it would seem. But he turns as the familiar voice greets them, the smile brightening a bit. "Just needed a little vacation," he replies easily enough, though he looks at the man's getup with a shake of his head, the rain still continuing to fall. Turning back to Seldan, he adds, "How about a hot meal and a real drink? Or ten?" He stuffs some scrolls, or sketches, or -- something into one of the saddlebags. "I think we owe each other a proper drinking game."

Seldan's cloak and hood are pulled up against the rain as he works, and he frees one hand to push an unruly lock of hair from his face. "A hot meal, a drinking game, and a proper bath," he agrees, looking up at the newcomer and brightening visibly. "Hun'rar, Her light shine on your path. Three days?" That, he frowns at. He wears neither sword nor armor, nor much in the way of any gear other than the cloak, more appropriate to city streets than the woods but still absorbing the rain. "Much better, thank you. What of yourself?" Suddenly, he sobers, studying Hun'rar closely.

Hun'rar shrugs "On the back end, the parasite is nearly gone." he replies wryly. "I wouldn't have expected you two here but I discovered some interest things I wanted to share and it was an opportunity for me to go home and connect with my roots. So I considered it worth it to track you two down."

The rain coming down would usually lend one to keeping the hood of a cloak up, but here... not here for Zeke in any case. The blue-scaled sith is carrying a covered basket over his right arm which as always carries his staff, and his face is bare to the elements. He seems to be quite enjoying the downpour, or perhaps there is some other reason that he is bearing the water running down his scales. A close observer who knows the sith might as well notice that he is particularly well-groomed today as well, though for non-sith this can be hard to tell of the dragonkin. "Peasssce on your nessstsss." Zeke offers the customary greeting warmly and looks around the disassembling tent with interest. "Thisss one hopess that one isss not intruding."

"Not at all," Malik says, shaking his head as Zeke approaches. "Peace on your nest, as well." He moves over to help Seldan pack up some of the remaining equipment, a single horse and a magical disk loaded up with the things they're taking with them -- though a good deal still remains in the tent. "No reason we can't do all three," he agrees cheerfully, before looking to Hun'rar with a curious raise of his eyebrow. "You have news, too, then?" he asks. Though, in typical Malik fashion, adds "Lucky you lived to bring it to us, wearing all that metal in all this mud." Though it's accompanied by a sly smile and an easy wink.

"It has been a long and eventful fortnight," Seldan tells Hun'rar carefully, something in his tone suggesting a -vast- understatement. He takes another bite of the apple he's eating, where he's paused in his dismantling of the tent. The magical disk is covered with an oiled skin against the weather, the fire that had been in the tent already extinguished. "You have learned --?" He's interested, but interrupted.

As Zeke enters, he looks over, and brightens again. "And on yours as well, Zeke. I never got to properly thank you ... and I had meant to seek you, but now there is no need." So why is he unarmed and unarmored in the wilderness. "I would ask ... have either of you a whetstone and oil?"

Hun'rar nods to Seldan and unshoulders his pack "I should have one with me and my plate doesn't bother me here. Its home for me and familiar. In fact considering the dangers of the jungle I am surprised to not see both of you in armor. Well Seldan anyhow." he adds with a grin, he turns to Zeka and smiles "Peace on your nest. I have research on Zeheir and a lead to follow." he says turning back to Seldan.

Zeke has no desire to interupt, and in spite of the greeting it feels a bit like it might be. So he keeps his peace, until Seldan speaks up to him and then he's clearly startled. Green eyes widen and the constant flick of his tail silences itself briefly. "Thank thissss one?" He waves his staff as if he might wave his claw. He clearly doesn't know what he might be thanked for, but it hardly matters. "Newssss of who?"

Un'eth emerges from one of the more secluded sections of the grounds to approach the common area around the gathering fire. Nostrils wink as she takes in the scents of visitors, some of whom are not known to her, whilst her tail sways slow and low behind.

Malik watches the exchange curiously, though he produces two apples out of the saddlebags. "It's not much," he tells the pair of newcomers, offering one to each of them, "but it's about the best I can do on short notice." Apparently, he doesn't see the newcomer, with her being all stealthy and off to the side, in terrain she's familiar with. Looking to Hun'rar first, he asks, "What of Zehier?" And then, over to Zeke, "I'd offer you a seat by the fire, but..." He points toward the opening of the tent, where the firepit has already fizzled to embers, little more than ash. As it seems that Hun'rar has the whetstone covered, he doesn't bother to search his own pack for it, listening to what the others have to say.

Some of the scents that linger around this area are unnatural and unpleasant in the extreme, but are coupled with scents suggesting that whatever was so unpleasant met its fate in the fire. Seldan hasn't seen Un'eth either, instead focused on Hun'rar and Zeke. "I have learned a great deal in the last fortnight of what makes a friend, and who my friends are," he remarks, quietly. "I have not forgotten the witch's lab in the Soldier's Defense, Zeke. If you have need of my aid, you need only ask." The name Zeheir, though, draws his attention, rather sharply. "You have a lead? What is it that you have learned?" The apple forgotten in the paladin's hand, and the remains of the tent forgotten, he makes his way to the waiting disk, and from it pulls a longsword with no scabbard, of very old silhouette.

Un'eth continues her approach until she stands at the edge of those in conversation. "Peace on your nests and welcome to Mictlan. There is no threat of disease nor undead in thiss place."

The blue-scaled sith ducks his head to Seldan. Acknowledging. It is significant to Seldan and therefore it is significant, but to him it had been natural to do. Such was the nature of caste he supposed, a warm thought in his chest though it tightened as well. He straightens and turns his attention to Hun'rar as the other man explains his information. Certainly the person who was responsible for the plague was of interest! The story is one briefly told and Zeke shakes his head at it. "What usssse migh hissss sssson be then?" He recognizes the word 'son' at least. He blinks surprise at the arrival of the other sith-makar but nods to Un'eth.

Malik's eyes widen a bit as Hun'rar explains what happened, his hand gripping at the horse's reigns a bit more tightly as he gives Seldan a meaningful glance, eyes brightening a bit. Though it's short-lived, as the other Sith steps out of the forest. He gives the newcomer another nod of greeting, though it appears that they might be on the leaving end of their journey, rather than the arriving, given that they appear to be tearing down the camp. Though as Zeke asks his question, Malik can't help but grin. "If magic runs in the family, and the caster is powerful enough? Someone like Zehier? You can guarantee that the son was groomed to follow in his old man's footsteps, even if he never followed through. It is quite likely that he could grudgingly tell you every aspect of magical theory, even if he never learned to cast himself. The danger of growing up in the shadow of someone like that." Spoken like he has some experience in the matter.

The rain has begun to slack off a little, and under the forest canopy, only the odd drop makes it through. Seldan leaves his hood up, though, and his cloak is nearly soaked through, but he moves to take the whetstone and oil from Hun'rar. "His son might know where he kept his research, Zeke. Malik, you were on to something. But he is indeed gone, and that is well for all. Still, if there is any chance that his family might have access to any of his notes, then we must find this Dylan Hunt." He carries all items over to an old log near where he'd sunk the glowing branch into the muddy ground, and he puts the whetstone and oil to use, apparently putting an edge on that old blade. "The grip wants replacing," he murmurs before raising his voice to speak to the others again. "Much of my gear is at the Temple in Alexandria, but we should seek out city records as soon as we may. Were you able to learn where this Dylan Hunt might be?"

Hun'rar nods to Un'eth "Welcome, we are talking about the parasitic ooze that is plaguing Alexandria, it disguises itself as a disease." he explains before turning back to the other. "I have not been able to find this Dylan Hunt and I have no idea what help he could be but its worth looking, additionally the people that killed him permanently may have nailed down his tower in the far north. We should be able to find it there." he says with a grin. "Its enough to investigate further, I got really lucky with the documentation I found, completely unexpected."

Seldan looks up briefly from his work at the newcomer sith-makar, gaze measuring but polite. "Peace on your nest." With that, he goes back to his blade sharpening, which appears to be a large and involved job.

Right. Softskin 'families'. Zeke shakes his head at their complexity. He might understand the words but there is much that he has to learn about actual custom. Though he understands perhaps a little better than some sith-makar might. Zeke settles back to listen to the conversation with double interest. Interest in Zehier, and his child Dylan whom might hold some key to the plauge. "Even if it isss only a chance, it issss good to try. To ssssee if anything can be learned." He nods politely to Hun'rar; respectfully. "How did you find ssssuch information?"

"A son may follow father," Un'eth accepts this fact, "yet a choice remains, always. Even with softskins." News of the topic is not a surprise, but her nostrils narrow reflexively regardless. "A vile thing only fiends, undead, or the deluded would craft. Her snout dips in a nod-like gesture with the return greetings.

Malik looks over to Un'eth once more, looking curious at her words, though he doesn't disagree. Openly, at least, even if his face says that he's dubious, on some level. Turning back to Hun'rar, though, he says, "I had a similar theory, but the proof eluded me. I'm glad that you were able to find it, though." But he's curious about where the man found such information, as well, from the way he nods in agreement to Zeke. As far as records go, he remains quiet on that front, letting others handle the logistics.

"From what we have learned -" Seldan continues to work on the blade as he talks, his Myrrish accent noticeable, his original intent of dismantling the tent forgotten. "Deluded would seem to be the most accurate of those. As for this Mistress, she may be another matter, for vampires are known to serve her." The group stand in cloaks and hoods, around a campsite that is half-struck and lit only by a waiting floating disk covered with an oilskin and a branch jammed into the ground that glows golden-silver. Seldan is working on an old-looking longsword by its light, one foot on a nearby log.

Hun'rar sighs "It was in an old after action report I found stuffed in the wrong box, with that I was able to find some other supporting reports. So yeah, pretty lucky." he says with a shrug "Whats with the sword Seldan? Something newly crafted or older?" he asks taking an interest.

Un'eth looses a light snort, "Deluded by twisted faith, greed, a lust for power... those are who cause most suffering." No great insight into the current predicament, of course, but she may not be as informed as others on these recent events. "But there are always those who will stop them."

Zeke starts to ask Hun'rar another question, but the man is off asking about Seldan's sword instead. There seems nothing unusual about the weapon really to Zeke who admittedly knows nothing about weapons really. So the change of topic throws the sith-makar more than a little. His green eyes flicker to Un'eth and a strange sensation shifts over his scales that he can not quite explain. Her words unsettle him and he flicks his tail in response; falling silent.

"Indeed. THere are alwayss thosse who will sstand up to stop them. There are alwayss helperss." A coppery Sith-makar shuffles forward slowly towards the group, bearing several packs upon his back. "If truth be known, it iss how it will alwayss be. For what iss good without evil, and evil without good?" A coppery-tail-tip curls upwards and thumps the ground, and Geir adds. "Peace upon your nestss. Caste and kin."

"What about love?" Malik asks, looking to Un'eth, his voice level. "Zeheir was trying to save his wife from a terrible disease with no known cure. From what I understand," Malik says, moving to ensure that the saddle on the horse is secure. "People will go to great lengths to protect the ones they care about." Another glance, this time, but down at his shoes, staring at the very interesting mud there for a moment, though he looks back up as the new Sith joins them, considering the newcomers words with that nodded greeting.

"A family heirloom, granted me by my mother. They have been using it as a wall ornament, but it is a serviceable and well-balanced weapon, if one puts an edge on it," Seldan answers Hun'rar as he continues to work, "and I have none other here." His gaze searches the faces until it finds Malik. "It has done nothing since, Malik, and the Sight shows me nothing when I look at it. It is safe enough, I think." What is he talking about?

But, more and more gather at the half-struck campsite. "The Light stands together," he agrees, greeting the latest newcomer Sith. "Peace upon your nest. I fear that we have caused a disruption, Malik. We should finish striking."

Un'eth's snout turns to Malik, and then tilts sharply to her left in an unusual gesture of .. thought? After it straightens, her head dips once. "Perhaps the strongest drive of all, and one that might ignore all other reason or cause. Those could be the most dangerous." She turns to the newest arrival and returns the greeting. "Peace on yours and welcome."

Zeke straightens somewhat as Geir enters the clearing also, straightening his form and slicking a hand over his wet face to clear it of the dampness it has accumulated. "Geir." He says the name warmly and looks over the things that the other is carrying. He himself is carrying a large basket on his right arm held in place by the staff he holds. "Peasssce. It issss good to ssee you."

Malik gives a nod to Seldan's comment, especially as he sees all the new faces that have arrived since they started their departure. He might even look the tiniest bit nervous, at this point. "I think you're right," he tells the man, though he gives a glance at the tent before moving to take up the poles, stuffing the entire, wet thing into a bag that seems much too small to hold something that size. "We should ride soon, anyway," he tells him. "Alexandria is far enough in sunshine." A glance to the angry, black sky there.

Geir stiffens slightly at the sound of Zeke's voice, and he turns slowly to face the blue-scale. "Zeke.", he says, with warmth and familiarity in his tone. "Peace. It is good to ssee you out of Alexandria. One hopess you are well?" There's a few moment's pause before the copper-scale begins to unburden himself of the packs and bags he carries. "Treatss. Suppliess. For the younglingss and the ssick."

Seldan considers the work-in-progress blade with pressed lips, and nods. He blows the metal shavings from the blade and from the whetstone with a quick breath, then offers the whetstone and oil back to the Warden. "This wants more work, and my gear is all in the city. I would welcome your help, and your company, but I would not disturb the sith-makar further. Peace is the least that I owe them. Will you return to Alexandria with us?" So saying, he shoves the blade back beneath the oiled skin on the disk, and moves to help Malik finish striking the campsite. "Peace on your nests, all of you," he tells the sith present. "Zeke, it is good to see you well."

Un'eth's ear-frills warble at Geir's mention of treats and she cannot stop her head from craning about for a moment back the way she came. Her snout is quick to snap back as she warns, with a quieted, someone concerned hiss. "Keep your words low when you speak of treats and younglings. They may sleep, but their senses are sharp and their energy boundless..."

Zeke almost bows to Seldan, the motion courteous and extraordinarily unsithlike, but Zeke manages it with graceful ease. Then he heads over to Geir, looking over the packs with interest. "The young were all taken away from this place. There wasss sssicknesss here, sssso mossst have moved away. Thessse too move on, but thisss one will be happy to aid you in taking thessse thingsss where they are needed.” This may aswage Un'eth's concerns as well, as the aforementioned younglings will be asleep somewhere distant from here. Too distant hopefully to hear of treats.

Hun'rar nods to Seldan "Indeed." and moves to help him with some of his gear "The blessings of Gilead on you all and peace on your nests." he packs his whetstone and oil back in his pack.

Geir pauses, turning to look to Un'eth. His body trembles slightly, and he looks away. His eyes widen as Zeke speaks, and then he begins to gurgle. And laugh. "You. Fear the younglingss?" He dabs at his eyes with a sleeve, and looks to Un'eth again. "There were a few here thiss passt day. But one ssupposses they may have been moved on." The copper-scale looks to Zeke and nods. "One would appreciate the assissstance, and to exchange wordss." He goes about the process of reclaiming the bags and packs he had only just dropped.

Malik finishes packing up the tent, throwing the bag carefully into the pile that's floating behind the patient horse. He offers a small bow, though it looks unpracticed and awkward. "Thank you," he tells those gathered, "for your hospitality." A silver-tongued diplomat this one certainly isn't, but he can at least manage to keep his feet out of his mouth. He moves to stand next to the horse, waiting on the other man to join.

"Malik, we ought to burn that as well," Seldan nods to the tent just thrown on the pile, but nods to Hun'rar and mounts up, leaving the disk to trail behind. With a gesture, he dismisses the light, leaving the stick stuck in the ground, and waits for Malik to take pillion before setting off. They've left nothing visible behind.

"Leave it to thisss one." Zeke offers quietly, helping Gier with his things. "It will be taken care of." He nods again to the two men. "Sssafe travelsss."

-End