MEETUP: Druids Sith and Wards Oh My!
Myrana: Short young woman with coal-black braids.
Godwyn: Blond, blue-eyed, beatific Sentinel.
Ferawyn: Short, red haired sylvan elf
Svarshan: Demons: BBQ with Spice
Ssylrath: Green lizardman, short and wide, with a Swiftclaw.
Just outside Mictlan, the Sith-makar holy place inside the skeleton of a great dragon, a clearing has been created. It is wide an appears natural for all that it wasn't here a few days ago, and it is bustling with activity. In the center is a firepit with a roasting boar on a spit and at one edge are tables loaded with foodstuffs of all kinds, delicacies from Am'shere and further afield. It is apparently expected that people will serve themselves what they wish from the wide array of options. The refreshments are tended by a combination of Sith-makar and other races, all wearing the emblem of the Wards of the Invisible Path, the organization that guards the portal to Am'shere. Any who have taken the portal in recent years will probably recognize at least a few of them.
Around the fire is a wide circle of logs set up as seats for guests with no one seat being any more of a focus than any other. Visitors drift about the clearing, chatting in small groups, and eating and drinking as they choose.
Ssylrath holds the carcass of a small lizard in one hand as he watches the arrangements with satisfaction, absently tearing at it with his uneven fangs every once in a while. It is clearly not cooked. He nods welcome to people as they arrive, overshadowed by the bulk of his swiftclaw, Thaliss, standing behind him under a tree.
She'd only heard of these people. Godwyn was most certainly here for her own curiosity more than anything else, but partly because she had nothing better to do with her time.
Now that she was here though, the Sentinel took it upon herself to patrol the area, or at least walk around and talk to random people while keeping an eye out for any real, actual threats. To that end, she was in full armor, with the blue and white temple robes underneath and the blue rose of Althea emblazoned on her cuirass. The armor looked sturdier than before, having been upgraded to full plate instead of her former half plate.
It did her a world of good, because she felt far more secure and official like.
A young woman, all of nineteen years, stands at five feet seven inches tall. Her blond hair and ocean-blue eyes, along with her pale complexion, gives her an almost ethereal quality. Treasured in the realms from which she hails, her beauty is of an uncommon nature, even as her figure remains a ways off from that of a fully-matured woman. Those who underestimate her size and weight however may soon notice that the great-sword on her back is not merely for display, the hand-and-a-half weapon sharpened to a keen edge.
Her armor, which used to be of common make, is now something far more than it once was. Each piece, from cuirass to greaves, is trimmed with blue and shined to a mirror sheen. The drapes hanging from the bottom of the body armor are white trimmed with blue, the sign of temple robes underneath. Yet the most evident feature of her newfound status is a royal blue rose silhouette on the front of the cuirass, the holy symbol of Althea.
Children. Seven of the Unnamed pounce around the edges of Mictlan. Barely old enough to crawl, they're scuttling around on four legs, eyes bright, wide, and curious. One of them has a stick in his teeth, and isn't getting anywhere...but it doesn't stop him from trying. An older sith-makar, an honored eggtender, rests nearby. An older male, he has a spear leaned against one leg, and his arms behind his head as he lazily watches the youth. The scars along tail and arms suggest a previous life of a warrior. He raises a hand as one of the servers goes by, silently requesting something to drink.
Svarshan watches them with warm interest, before looking towards the food. A Serrielite stands beside him, her expression stern. She holds a pad of paper and appears to be writing in it. His own swiftclaw is tethered near the young hatchlings.
Sitting off to the side is Ferawyn. She enjoys the company of the Sith-makar, mostly because one of her dearest friends is one. She stayed here to keep an eye on the sith-makar nearby. Not just from the dangers of the woods, but from themselves.
Myrana is at one of the sideboards placing something that looks rather like an enormous crawdad onto her plate, steaming and dripping with spicy sweet sauce. It plonks on there and she sticks her singed fingers happily into her mouth, humming.
Ssylrath wanders over towards Svarshan, waving his lizard in greeting to those who arrive. "Well, I trussst that this will go well. The Wards have sscertainly put effort into this event, I am curious myssself why exactly they chose to hold a public gathering. I sssuppose we will all find out sssoon enough." He gestures towards the sproglets. "How are they doing?"
Tailthump, and the warm pride all but comes out as savage butter. "Well. They may ssurvive through the firsst...thiss one," he says, gesturing towards the one chewing on a stick, "Devoured half a. Rabbit the other...day. ...you met. Myrana-of-the-Beer?" he asks, the title particular and specific. He indicates the woman stuffing her features with crawfish, and then offers a thump of greeting to the shaman and the sentinel. "It iss good to ssee new. Faces."
Frown. The Serrielite begins scribbling again. This close, the notations on her paper appear as chicken scratches...notations of some kind.
Ferawyn giggles softly as she watches the little ones play. 'They will grow up big and strong, Svarshan." She says as she gets up and walks over towards Godwyn. "Godwyn.....I'm a little surprised to see you here." She says softly.
Godwyn shrugged as Ferawyn approached. "Far be it from me not to take an opportunity to expand my view of the world" She grinned. "Besides, my teachers constantly stressed that not everything could be learned in the confines of a temple. I suppose I should at least take their advice once."
Myrana is doing exactly that. The half-elf puts away three of the huge crayfish and starts investigating the less recognizable specemins on the tables. What the hell is THAT? Presumably edible? Yes. She eats it.
Ferawyn says, "It's a good philosophy to have, I think." She says softly as she turns towards the grounds. "Be careful here, however. Sith-makar are very respectful of our ways, but they come from another place, and have shamanistic ways. Be very careful of what you do here."
As she says this, another enters the camp, this time with a few rabbits and a pig upon his shoulders. He's a BIG one, and easily strong enough to carry the large pig. he lets out a rumble and a tail-thump to the other sith-makar and carefully puts the pig on a spit to cook over the fire."
Godwyn grimaced. "Right. Be careful around the people who can very well death-curse me. Good advice." She shook her head. "You're gonna have to explain etiquette to me then, because I don't intend to die because of a mistake I made."
Edible? Svarshan half-leans, leeeans over towards the fire as the food begins to warm again, as the scent begins to come that way. He wipes at the side of his muzzle (the Serrielite makes another note) and nods to Ssylrath. "Will. Be back," he says.
The Unnamed continue their play. The one's gotten a fix on the stick, and has a tooth into it. He has it gripped sideways, and is tugging, trying to do damage. Another of his siblings bounds past on all fours, before falling face-first in the dirt.
Just when the unnamed one that fell onto the ground slid to a stop.....a tree reaches down and lifts it back to it's feet. Ferawyn smiles towards said tree before she continues her conversation with Godwyn.
Into the middle of the clearing, by the fire, walks an imposing women. Dressed in practical but elegant clothing this Khazad merchant woman clears her throat for attention. "Welcome all, I am Mistress Rekah of the Wards of the Invisible Path. Please avail yourself of the refreshments and enjoy the evening. I'm just going to say a few words to explain this event." She looks around to make sure everyone is listening. "The Wards protect the portal between here and Am'shere. We have been undergoing increasing attacks on the far side from the local Troglodyte tribes, the same ones who made an attempt of the life of the Empress some time ago. We're hoping to raise our profile, let people know that we're here and we sometimes need help, maybe even recruit a few of you. The perform an important function and we do have allies among the Yggdrasil Union, but more is usually better." She chuckles. "Just ask a merchant. More is always better." She waits to see what response she gets.
Ssylrath appears unsurprised at the Ward's words, stepping forward. "I can alssso answer some questions about the Wards of the Invisible Path, I have worked with them for sssome time."
Godwyn would have said more, but a speech was being made. One that apparently was of some importance. By the time it ended, Godwyn shrugged. "Knew it wasn't just a party," she muttered to Ferawyn. Godwyn cleared her throat. "Explain a bit more about the nature of these attacks. I came here to guard this place just in case of such an attempt, so any information would help."
Myrana sets her plate down as Mistress Rekah makes her appearance and begins to address the gathered guests and hosts, and listens curiously to what she has to say. At the end she applauds politely along with a few other Alexandrians who are in attendance.
Svarshan adds the 'crawfish,' and two, three other items to his plate. He manages to stay to one dish (old, Myrrish training), but a certain dexterity lets it pile high, nearly a foot, in fact. He steps back, balancing it securely in one palm while moving over to stand near the Giver-of-Beers. "The. Crawfissh is. Good," he comments, before turning to listen.
...and, more scribbling. "Craw. Fish," says the Serrielite beneath her breath, though not very loudly, before she too, lifts her head to listen.
The hatchling squirms in the tree's branches. The eggtender watches with apparent unconcern, knowing the beastie. ...Oak. ...thing, before looking back towards the tumbling young ones. "Peep!" goes one of them.
"I'll help if I can." Ferawyn says as the Khazad finishes her speech. "Oakheart? Would you like to help out?" the treant sets the little one down before groaning at Ferawyn. "Well I didn't wanna speak for you, Oakheart." *groan* "All right. Add Oakheart to that list."
A growl can be heard from the one that brought the pig. "Troglodyte should be hunted down like the things they are....then burned rather than eaten."
Mistress Rekah smiles at Godwyn. "There is no danger here, nor is there anything urgent. This is a meet-and-greet only, the Trogs are safely on the far side of the portal and deep in the jungle."
"They are very good," Myra agrees, picking her plate up again and adding popcorn-looking grubs cooked in a lime green sauce. Say what you will about Myra, she is eager to try the foods of other cultures, and tries everything. Lowering her voice, she whispers to Svarshan. "What are Trogolodytes?" Then grins at the peeping Unnamed that are running around. One skitters between her boots, or tries to and runs into the back of her bustled skirts, which are more solid than one might think thanks to the petticoats. It plops over onto its backside, slightly stunned.
Ssylrath leans over to Myrana. "Troglodytes are vile ssscum, smelly creatures that delight in ssslaughter and death. They tried to kill the Empress and wiped out an entire Hatchery in the processss." He hisses in anger at the thought. "They have no concern for the Green at all."
Godwyn huffed. "Well, I for one am all for staying as clear of them as possible. Unless they actually come into this camp, then they are of no concern." She smiled. Not every Paladin wanted to go out and kill things.
Myrana looks up at Ssylrath with a bit of a start. "Oh!" She says, horrified at this description and also a little embarrassed at her ignorance in this matter.
Svarshan immediately scoops it up--and then has the sneaky hatchling grabbing for his plate. Of course, he lets it. There's something about being a new parent that...
Okay, there went the crawdad claw.
"They desserve to die." Some paladins want to go out and kill things, though... "After they...sslaughtered our. Children. ...I went. Hunting," he says darkly. "The next time. I will bring trackerss. Houndss." ...though, maybe it's protection of the tribes.
Godwyn nodded. "Easily understandable. If there is a war party forming, then by all means, count me in. But if not..." She shrugged. "My task is to guard here."
Svarshan holds the small one as though it's made of glass, before leaning down and settling it back on the earth. He's a touch bloodier than some, and being frowned at by the Serrielite.
Who's taking more notes.
"They are my People," he says towards Godwyn, the expression simple, the...if an expression like that could be simple. All-encompassing.
Rekah gestures around the clearing. "If there are no more questions, enjoy the evening and keep us in mind next time there's an emergency. When we call for help it's because we can't handle it ourselves, and between the Druids and the Sith-makar we can handle quite a bit. The things we can't... let's just say we're glat that there are adventurers around to help out when needed. Aside from that we do also welcome recruits who are interested in spending time actually on duty, but we understand that's not for everyone."
Godwyn smiled again. "And as such, you have the right to defend or avenge them. You have my full support on this matter, rest assured." She frowned. "Althea mourns the loss of *any* child. As such, I am obligated to avenge this."
Belladona has arrived.
Belladona: Curvaceous Ourch in Hide Armor
Belladona comes into the clearing with Samafa. The large cat yawns and moves over to find a spot to lay down and she stretches out. Her claws scratch along the bones before she settles down. Belladona rolls her eyes, "No respect you have." She shakes her head and smiles as she knows some of the Sith-makars, "Hello there." She grabs herself a plate and a mug, "Quite a spread you put out."
Svarshan watches the Unnamed hatchling scuttle away. The child does a sort of crawl/scuttle, getting just used to her arms and legs. Where her tail--oops. Tripped.
"The Hearth iss. Honored," Svarshan says, the words inadequate and for a while, he looks silently frustrated. Silently perhaps, because the words just don't... He looks over towards the khazad, and remembers to nod. Then nods again to the newcomer. "Welcome to the..." Pause then, as he sees which dish she's headed to. "That one iss. Sspicy."
Ssylrath pulls some more meat off the lizard carcass he is holding. "I do not think there is any danger here, Thaliss and I ssscouted earlier and this is jussst outside Mictlan. I would not worry." He drops a few raw scraps in front of one of the Sith sproglets scampering around and then waves to Belladona "Welcome, you missed the ssspeech from Mistress Rekah of the Wardsss. Help yourssself to whateve you want."
Ferawyn watches the little ones as they play, and giggles as they do. "Hey Svarshan. Do they have a word in your tongue for 'Rabbit Slayer'?
Svarshan pauses in the middle of eating another--what is it? It's basted in mango and has segmented legs. He immediately looks thoughtful at the shaman's words...and then looks thoughtfully towards the shaman.
Ssylrath chuckles. "I do not think we have rabbitsss. Not where I come from anyway, the ssswamps are not good for burrowing animalsss."
Godwyn finally paid some attention to the little ones. Sure enough, they were gamboling around and having a blast doing it, as all children did. She couldn't help her smile as she watched. Oddly enough, their appearance made them even cuter for some reason.
Belladona smiles, "Thank you, I'm sorry that I missed the speech, I tried to get here as fast as I could." She piles on her plate with a variety of food and she nods to Ferawyn, "Hello Ferawyn." She gives a wave to Godwyn before she fills her mug with some refreshments.
"The worldss are. Blending. ...ssome," Svarshan allows, and looks more thoughtfully towards the hatchling who'd just eaten a stick. He's quiet a while after that, and then looks towards Ferawyn and smiles. "I will keep it in mind if he becomess Named." Pause, pause. "We do not Name them until their firsst year. Predatorss," he says.
Two of the Unnamed hatchlings tumble with one another. One has the other's tail in its mouth. A third's passed all the way out. The eggtender, an old warrior male, looks up towards Godwyn, and raises his chin in a greeting before going back to watching the rolling tumbles.
Ferawyn nods her head to Belladona before looking to Svarshan and Ssylrath. "These two rabbits are for the little ones." She says softly as she looks to the eggtender. "If you haven't noticed, Godwyn, Sith-makar place a special importance upon eggs and their little ones. So.....the greeting 'peace upon your nest', is of special significance to them."
Ssylrath becomes more animated, speaking to Svarshan. "That's what the Wardsss do, they make sure the worlds stay ssseparate. Keep animals on each ssside apart. Alive at leassst, both sssides of the portal will lose much if they grow too close. The Green will be... lessened."
Myrana listens to the others talk as she eats, continueing to more-or-less genteely stuff her craw full of food.
Svarshan scratches at his forearm. The scales there make a dry sound. "Ssa. I thought it wass a." He looks over towards the furiously-writing Serrielite and falls quiet a moment. The next word is said with additional effort, "-Ssuggestion- for a. Name." He falls silent again, the search for the -right- word having momentarily exhausted him...and he nods to Ssylrath before opening his muzzle once, and closing it. Words. -Damn- it. In the meanwhile, one of the hatchlings has begun making her way across the grass towards Myrana. It's just a little ways, though for someone that size, it may as well be a mile.
Ferawyn shakes her head to Svarshan. "No, my friend. It wasn't a suggestion, it was an idea. An idea, Svarshan, means it was a thought I had that you don't HAVe to follow." She then smiles to Svarshan.
Myrana watches it coming with the attitude of one who may hunker down to interact with a pointy-toothed infant or let it dribble on her skirts but has yet to decide. She has time. In the end she turns back and swallows the bit of melon she was chewing on. A curious look is given to Ferawyn, and then she glances at Svarshan, face oblique. "I am going to have to ask what this is," she says, waggling a gelatinous something-or-other around. "It's really good."
Right, enough walking around.
Godwyn made her way toward Belladona and sat at one of the tables. "Hey. You been good?"
Belladona moves over to Godwyn and gives her a smile, "Hey Godwyn, how are you doing? Yes I've been good. Do you want to get something to eat and drink it's all very good, careful some of it is spicy or so I've been told."
The brightscale falls silent at Ferawyn's revelation and appears to consider it. Apparently? This is a new concept. And then Myrana asks /that/ question and Svarshan opens his muzzle and...
You know, paladinic codes. Honor. Mercy. General truthfulness. ...he looks towards her silently like a man caught between the scales. Like a... "Meat," he decides on, that bland, more general word. "...meat. Very. Good...meat."
...just as the hatchling passes out at her feet. Or half-passes out. It collapses partway in the grass, and looks up with sad, sad eyes that says: Woe, poor as me. For I have struggled thus far, and I have persevered, and yet woe, small as I, for that food is just yet from reach. Gift my cavernous stomach, before I must here die.
"But..." Myrana stutters. "We're -all- meat, Svar." A pause. "Except for that Treeant over there." Who is a tree. The thump catches her attention and she cracks up, only to cover her mouth quickly and look chagrined. Don't laugh at babies, you horrible sorceress! And crouching down gives the hatchling one of her grubs. Delicious spicy grubs! "How terrible! How terrible!"
Ferawyn giggles at the little one whom has flopped on the ground. She reaches for that particular rabbit and tugs the spit from the fire to present it to the flopped little one. "Why not eat something?"
Ssylrath gestures at the tables of food. "The meat here probably could not speak. Eating things that can speak ssstrengthens Death-Eating Dragon, and that's bad, so I'm told." He glances over at Svarshan and then back. "That one isss probably fish? Maybe."
The hatchling reaches up with hands trembling from fatigue, but greed in its little eyes. Fatigue, because it had taken a mile to get here, but greed? It gets hungry. Often. Apparently Ferawyn's words are the wisest words. It makes graspy-claw motions, and gives a hissing sort of hiccup.
Svarshan follows the Ward's gesture, his expression quiet, curious. And... He leans down to where just Ssylrath can hear, and, "I thought it wass. The..." The words are near inaudible. Hopefully. Mercifully.
Ferawyn says, "Take as much as your little tummy can hold, little one. Eat." She says laying the rabbit in front of the little one."
Godwyn gives Belladona a nod. "Thank you for teaching me how to cook, by the way. Hopefully I can bring some of my own offerings to the next one of these." If there was one, which she hoped there would be.
Belladona smiles brightly, "You are welcome. I'm sure it would be welcome." She sits down to start to eat and she giggles at the little ones, 'Aren't they cute?"
"They sure are!" She giggled at the antics of one. "Svarshan certainly is happy, isn't he? Makes me wonder what it's like." She lifted her hands for a moment. "Not like I expect to have that happen any time soon, that is!"
Oh. God. The hissing-hiccup breaks off with wide eyes...and one or two of the rest (those who haven't fallen asleep by now) begin to crawl-scramble-fall their way towards the rabbit Ferawyn's laid out. Seeing this? The original begins to claw-grasp as best it can. Which involves a lot of missing, and I'm-just-learning-where-my-face-is. Also, mess. And more mess. Woe be to the rabbit, because it ends up here there, and everywhere.
Ssylrath looks sidelong at Svarshan and considers. He then goes over to Myrana and sniffs carefully at the questionable meat. He ponders, then picks a small morsel from the plater and takes it over to Thaliss hiw swiftclaw who also sniffs at it. Both of them look at it from several angles, then the Sith-makar extends his long tongue and pulls it into his mouth. He tastes it for a few seconds and then addresses Svarshan. "Well, it is sscertainly not that, thank the ancessstors. I do not know what it is, but it is tasssty. Perhaps a bird of some sort?"
Belladona hmms, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" She asks, 'I have some of both, trust me it's much more fun to watch the children of others then to have to deal with them. At least with the children of others you can give them back."
Godwyn's mind flashed back for a brief moment at the attack at the temple, on the day of her Hearth's Embrace. She suppressed her shudder as best she could. "I'd... rather not talk about my own family. I'm lucky to have survived them, much less escaped them."
Myrana grins at Ferawyn, and keeps her fingers away from snappy bitey lizard beebees. But they're freakin' adorable and she is putty.
Svarshan stands up a little straighter the first time the small claws grab hold of the rabbit. And a little straighter. He nods towards Ssylrath as he watches the devouring childling, and takes a deeper breath. "That iss...good. ...do you know. ...they sserved that at the. Lasst Occeparik gathering?" One of the tribes. He's quiet after that, and then looks quietly over towards the Sentinel. Opens his mouth...and then closes it. He never was good with words.
The Serrielite in the meantime, takes a few more notes, pen moving over pages.
Belladona ahs a little bit, "Say no more I won't bring it up again. Gods knows I wish my brothers and sisters were dead often enough, although now being away from them I miss them." She gives a shrug as she continues to eat, "So how goes being one of Athlena's choosen?"
They'll pass out very soon. The journey, the rabbit-hunt, was near all they had in them at this age. The warriors who'd made the journey are soon piled near one another and dozing.
Godwyn shook her head of the dark thoughts and took in a breath. "I'm happy, really I am." She smiled, and it was genuine. "I have a new family now, one that looks after me and supports me instead of trying to use me. I'd defend them with my life if need be."
As the one little one tears apart the rabbit to eat, Ferawyn walks over towards another of the little ones, and wonders if he or she's hungry as well....and offers a berry....while eating a second one herself.
Svarshan thumps his tail once, at Godwyn's words. "Ssa," he says, that sound that can mean anything. In this case, it signals agreement, and he settles down then in the grass, to spend time with the hatchlings, even as one of them opens tired eyes at the sight of the berry, chirps, and falls asleep again. 'Belly full,' that says.