Return to Mictlan
Log Info
- Title: Return to Mictlan
- Emitter: Un'eth
- Characters: Un'eth, Cryosanthia, Rocky
- Place: W02: Mictlan
- Time: Friday, July 03, 2020, 9:05 PM
- Summary: The plague is cured, the refugees have left Miclan, the temporary shelters have been dismantled and Un'eth is being a steward to the heavily abused land. Cryo and Rocky arrive, the whitescale taking the time to introduce her big brother to the settlement now that it is safe for her to visit as her mark has been removed and the Fae Queen awakened. Cryo introduces Rocky to Un'eth, who invites them to partake of the prepared meals. Rocky discusses how the Alexandrians have been more helpful than he expected, but he misses food from Am'shere. Cryo briefly explains that she witnessed what happened, although she'll tell it later, and her experiences have been difficult. She reveals she and her cihuaa, Zeke, are no longer together. Un'eth encourages them to stay, while Rocky suggests travelling, and Cryo explains she believes she needs time among the people to remember how to be a sith and stop pretending to be a Fae, or a Fae's possession. As a change of subject, she recounts how Rocky helped Braelnoir, and this leads into a comparison of weapons, her lightweight buckker to Rocky's living metal shield. Cryo offers to introduce Rocky to the Warrior Castes, and they take extra meat and go to do so.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* W02: Mictlan *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.
The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-= Un'eth 6'2" 275 Lb Sith-Makar Female An ebon-scaled female Sith-makar Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Rocky 6'8" 460 Lb Sith-Makar Male A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
With the plague victims restored, those refugees who fled the city no longer needing to fear, and the outlying areas of the wilds healed or healing from its own corruption, Mictlan now once more resembles its original sanctity. It is a place of respectful memory, worship, and community.
Now that community is again a far more sustainable size, but some signs still remain of its overpopulation: temporary shelters or cots are mostly disassembled, yet materials linger; the grounds, themselves are far more heavily trampled and bared in many sections; there is also the matter of discarded detritus.
Un'eth is among those policing the area for such items that do not belong, and is perhaps one of the more acutely aware, critical, and annoyed that such items or other sign is left behind.
Cryosanthia has not been here in a long time.
Technically, it's been approximately two months since she came to see her cihuaa, but she didn't stay long, and a few months before that, before her decision to go off with the Fae Queen of Endless Winter, she was around regularly. A lot changed in all that time, and kept her away for good reasons.
In her personal experience, she's been absent from sith-makar company and civilization for decades. She was isolated in a tower, and the scents, sights, vibrancy of her people became overwhelming once she escaped. It became something she could only handle in small doses.
Something, that needs to change, especially after her cihuaa... refused to be her cihuaa, and said she was too selfish and too much like a softskin. So, in an effort to escape her conditionning, she is here, now. To reconnect.
It also helps that she is introducing her clutch-kin to the place.
Rocky moves slowly, but steady, perhaps a little slower than he might, pausing to take in the view. One might suspect the layer of armor has something to do with the pace, but those more familiar with warrior ways will understand that has nothing to do with it.
Un'eth looks up from her slow walk across the current section of the grounds as others arrive. Her tail thumps the ground once, firmly. "Peace on your nests, and welcome to Mictlan... such as it is." Her tailtip flicks in annoyance, though it isn't directed at the arrivals. <draconic>
"This one has no nest." Cryosanthia replies, a rude rejection of the greeting and also a call for help. There is no anger in her voice and she continues, "Peace on your nest. We are here to help."
She gestures at the granite-scale Warrior beside her, "This is River Stone, he is clutch-kin to this one. My big-brother. The Dragonfather sent him back from waiting beside the stream. First time to Mictlan."
She looks at Un'eth, there's a lot in her posture, her gaze, her scents are all over the emotional map. She's a mess. A non-sith, an Alexandria would see a clean and somewhat rigid woman; one of the people can tell she's taken a beating, both physical and emotional. "Direct us to be useful." <draconic>
Rocky chuffs and dips his muzzle politely to the unfamiliar Un'eth. "As Little Sister says, This One is here to assist as can. Am of Warrior Caste, guardian, but welcome whatever assistance can offer." <draconic>
Un'eth's attention lingers on the white-scale for a time, though her snout swivels to River Stone and dips. "I am Un'eth, Shaman of the Tyrranik, warder of Mictlan and Ea." She gestures broadly with claws. "You can aid at the cookfires. A great many were fed for some time. Much prey was hunted. Now there are too few to eat or prepare it. Come."
She turns, then, stepping for one of the smaller cookfires. Only a few now burn, yet there are signs of many more that recently did. Head and snout swivel over one shoulder en route, studying Cryosanthia once more. <draconic>
Cryo belateled remembers to thump tail in greeting. We do that, right. She looks between the ebon-scaled woman and the granite-scaled man as she introduces herself, then adds, "She is friend to this one, or was."
The whitescale is wearing leather and mithril armour, rather tight to her skin, with some flashy accessories such as a skirt and cape. A small haversack is across her shoulders. She looks very much like some kind of human duelist, although she carries no weapons. For the moment, her scents seem to have focused on just one which is relatively calm.
Cryo bobs her head, "This one can help at the cookfires." <draconic>
Rocky chuffs in amusement. "This One is no chef, but can eat well. Will be good to feed on traditional meals. The softskin food of these lands has been good, but it's not the same." <draconic>
"This one still is, Speaker," Un'eth notes, "though some time has passed since our last words, and a great deal occured in that time." Claws gesture again, now to the cookfire... or, rather the spits of boar and deer around it. "Eat or carry what you will. Many others have already fed, and there is as much again as this to be dried or cooked. It is best that all is put to use."
To River Stone, she notes, "Prey and fruits are different, here, than elsewhere so the meals are likewise. The insects in Am'shere are large enough to hunt and prepare; those here are not." <draconic>
"This one is glad to hear those words. This one needs friends." Cryosanthia says, dipping her head. She slopes into a more leaning posture, balanced by her tail, a natural one for sith-makar and less like pretending to be a soft-skin. "This one saw the de-clawing of the Fae Queen. This one shared words with the witnesses after she left. This one saw much. This one does not want to Speak it. This one lost much."
The cookfires were indicated, so the whitescale makes her way over towards them. Her nostrils flare as the scent of roast deer and boar waft towards her. She inhales strongly. Her tail sways a little.
Rocky nods. "Will not be exactly the same, This One understands. But cooking style counts for a lot in flavor and texture. As for insect size, have seen a few to dispute that, but am given to understand they were unnatural mutations, likely not suited for eating." He looks to Cryo for a moment, and leans against her, shoulder to soulder. "Still have much, Little Sister."
"Not all tales need repeated," Un'eth suggests, "while others should be at every opportunity. A Speaker knows which tale lies where. Scent, eat, enjoy. Share words that you will. Some was prepared by Durrankar, and his knowledge of cooking is second to none. Those with the least meat remaining are his work." Whether to make further invitation or to snare a final morsel before they might be lost, she steps to tear a clawful from one of the heavily-favored boar for herself.
The contact seems to be something she needs, the brush of scale against scale, shoulder to shoulder, the weight of a sith-makar body, the presence of kin soothes her on an instinctive level. Her tail curls back and forth, a small wag. "That is true, Big Brother. This one focuses too much on the wounds, not the victories. This one is glad you are here. You would not be without the trails on this path. It has been a SpineBerry."
An Am'shere fruit with a hard and painfully spiked husk, and a sweet fruit inside.
She approaches one of the stripped roasts, leans in to inhale scents, then peels a clawful for herself. "Durrankar's recipes, not to be missed." Another painful thought crosses her mind, by the change in her ear-fins, then it is gone.
Rocky nods, looking over the selection a few moments before taking a few small pieces from a range of options, sampleing a little of everything. "This One has yet to meet Durrankar, or many others. events have kept too many of The People apart as a precaution. Thankfully it sounds that speicifc concern is past, and gathereings can be held again."
"Ssa," Un'eth concurs, after making quick work of her swiped clawful. "The eggs, hatchlings and younglings are safe. I... this one is anxious for the return of young now that all is healing. They will help The People, and Ea, to mend." For River Stone, she exlains, "Durrankar is also Shaman of the Tyrranik, and warder. Should you remain or often visit, you will encounter him." "This one wished to see the hatchings." Cryosanthia says, eating her meat slowly. Small, tearing bites, then swallowing. She makes a small roll of her shoulders, smells sad again.
She straightens and has smells reckless, "This one went around the softskin temples, praying to their softskin versions of our gods. Prayers were answered. The mark that let the Fae Queen send demons after this one was removed. This one would not come home before, for fear demons would follow. Tell Durrankar the mark is gone, the threat is gone. This one will if she sees him."
Rocky nods, taking a position slightly to the side where he can keep an eye on things. Not that he expects any sort of trouble, it's just his naturare to watch out for others. "This One shall visit. Considered comming before, but seems... presumptious... to arrive alone."
Un'eth thumps her tail lightly in acknowledgement to both, though focuses first upon Cryosanthia. "There were many reasons for concern, but my cihuaa will know that this concern has passed with the others. Do not lament, as the hatchlings and younglings will return soon. Some of the eggs may now feel safe enough to hatch. With the refugees gone, there is room enough for the young to grow and learn. Many may be ready, or overdue, for name or caste."
Her words are measured, though her tailtip flicks anxiously, and her scent betrays that as well. "You are welcome to remain, if you wish, now that there is freedom of space, food, and health."
"This one... has not been around the people in a long time." Cryo admits, picking up on Un'eth's anxiety, although unable to guess her reasons, "This one would stay, train with the Speakers again, prepare for the next Caste Ceremony. This one is glad there is room for the eggs."
She looks at the piece of meat in her hands, pulls it apart with her fingers. "This one and Zeke are not together anymore. We were a long time, now we are not. He will stay at the Dragonfather's Temple. He may not come here often." She keeps shredding the meat, not eating it.
Rocky chuffs softly. "A trying time, to be sure. And while teh cause may be over, the mess that remains is still being sorted out. What is the present need not be the future as well."
Un'eth seats herself, or, rather, crouches comfortably. Around the fire but not immediately at it, as the air is far warm enough as it is. "There is time enough, now, to spend with The People. It may be the best time, for all, to do so, after the loss and separation."
She is quiet a moment before she states, "Nor is the past always the future. Life is not stagnant. It changes, it grows. Some paths align, some do not, and others cross intermittently."
Cryo holds all the small strips of meat she's torn from the large piece, which is no longer exists. She pushes them together, then eats the smaller strips one by one, "Some things do not go back together easily, once torn apart. This one has many things to put back in place in her mind, once done my paths will be clearer."
She looks up, over at Un'eth crouching, "This one needs to be here, help others. She has been inside too much. Smells are very strong, this one has been in scentless spaces too long."
Rocky nods. "The whole of these lands still smell odd. But the people seem friendly. This One was concerned they would be, if not hostile, indifferent. But most have been willing, if not eager to help This one adjust to these new lands."
"Stay as long as you wish," Un'eth gestures to Cryosanthia, spreading claws expansively and invitingly. "This one spoke more of your path and his. You can choose your own, you cannot walk another's for them."
Snout and eyes turn towards River Stone. "Most will not understand the ways of The People, but most are not enemies of The People. Ignorant, but not foe."
"We walked side by side for many years. Now we do not. When circumstances changed, we changed. It is what it is." Cryo says, staring off into the distance, hands folded and together in her lap. "This one must think of other things for a while. Let me share words."
"This is River Stone's story," Cryosanthia says, looking up, "He assissted this one's friend, Braelnoir, fighting Orcs with plague spikes. It was a trap set up in the Felwood by an Ogre she killed years ago, with a Witch Crow handling all of it. The fighting was very unbalanced, the softskins took many wounds from the quills, the oruchs were more mindless. Still, they won, the scythe was retrieved, but the Witch Crow escaped."
The whitescale looks over at Rocky, "This one is glad you were there. Braelnoir, also. She will help you as needed."
Rocky nods. "The quills looked wicked, but did not piece This One's hide. Would have got much worse were they slightly sharper. This one was pleased to meet a metal smith, one of the 'kzhad?' Who was pleased to help craft metal armor that fit properly. Was also able to find a shield of Live Metal. Were near rumor back Home, did not expect to find such things here."
"Live Metal? This one has not heard of that. Your shield is?" Cryosanthia looks over towards Rocky's equipment, "This one was impressed to find the metal that's like cloth. I have it in a shield also."
She takes a mithril buckler out of her haversack, and shows it to the granitescale. There's also a dull grey dagger which resembles an icicle strapped to it.
Rocky nods, thumping lightly on the armor, that looks very much like steel, but a close looks shows a green tinge, almost like tarnished copper. "Old trees sometimes suck up metal from the dirt. Makes them very hard, like metal, but treated properly, will still grow over time, like wood. If the shield is damaged, will fix itself, eventually. And the Living Steel is espically tough and blades that strike it, sometimes breaking them."
Cryo leans, examining it, tilting her head to examine the scene, "That sounds excellent for Warrior Caste. Mine is light, see?" She waves the mithril buckler, handing it over, it's light, silvery with a white-ish sheen. The thumps at her chest.
"This one had a mail shirt, it is good for my purposes." She sits back, also crouching and balancing on her tail, peeling another piece of meat off a nearby spit.
Rocky nods. "This One favors heavy armor. Mitirl is good, strong while still light, but in the thickest armor, mithril can only do so much. Think favor sky metal, adamantine, that turns aside even mighty blows."
Cryo grins, wobbling her head, "This one plans not to be hit, to slip and turn aside blades. This one is Speaker, we do not stand and fight as Warrior caste. The City of Mists is the place for these metals. This one is glad you found some."
She takes back her shield, slips it into her haversack again, leans her weight onto her tail. "You should meet Svarshan, he is a great Sunblade, important to Mictlan and the Temple of Daeus."
Rocky nods. "This one has heard tale of the DemonChomper, but has not yet had the pleasure to meet. And of the Glittering Princess, his swiftclaw."
"This one has seen her! This one has rode with her." Cryo sits up, smelling eager and looking bright. She points across the firepits, "The Swiftclaw pens are there! This one has helped, clean and feed. They are great beasts."
Un'eth stands, "Thank you for your words. This one must meet Durrankar. Eat, stay."
Rocky and Cryo thump tails as the ebon sith-makar leaves.
Rocky nods, and chuffs softly. "Swiftclaw are fine mounts, but This One favors battle on foot. Too difficult to track the temperment of a mount in additon to the chaos of battle."
Cryosanthia bobs her head, "Yes. You have met my friend, Faranmidahn? She rides a giant spider. This one has marvelled at it. She manages very effectively though. This one would still get a swiftclaw, for getting around. Swiftclaw to Alexandria is very quick."
Rocky nods. "This one has met the Spider Rider, in passing. These lands hold many wonderous things. But then, so does Home." "Yes, this one wishes to visit home." Cryosanthia sighs, looking wistful, "it has been so long."
Rocky shrugs. "So lets go. Pack a lunch, grab a bedroll, and start traveling. Nothing that needs to be stuck around for just now, is there?"
Cryosanthia exhales, dropping her hands thoughtfully. She touches her haversack, "This one is already packed. This one needs to be sure her friends are all right, this one would take them along, and..."
She looks around at Mictlan, back at Rocky, "This one might need to be here a time first to heal, this one is cracked inside still. Alexandria has no need of this one, Mictlan might. Un'eth asked... there may be reasons there. We shall travel though, Big Brother, this one promises."
Rocky nods. "This One is in no rush. From my perspective, have not been gone from Home so long. take what time you need, Little Sister."
"This one's horns show the time away." Cryo runs her hand along one of her curved ones, which reaches out behind her neck. She exhales again, her breath a small visible cloud, "It has been a long, long time. This one needs some."
Rocky nods, and chuffs in amusment. "At the very least, the horns look good on you. Refined."
Cryo grins widely, lots of teeth and very flattered. "Thank you! Yours will grow in fearsome!" She brushes at the scales on her neck, rocks on her feet. "It is something I did not notice, every day until their size struck me. One gets used to it, forgets the start of the path. My second century shall be grand and elegant!"
Rocky nods. "Many changes are like that. Slow day by day, but sudden in retrospect. such is life, perhaps, a contract of perspectives."
The whitescale nods again, thinking that over, finding it true. "We should find the driest strips to save for later." She looks over the spits for meat that is close to jerky, "This one can show you Warrior Caste tents, this one will find the Speakers. There are others for small groups to share. It looks like many have been taken down. It will be good to rest after the day's trip."
Cryo stands, turning her head as she looks over the settlement. She inhales strongly, closing her eyes, feeling the rhythm and life of the place, "It is good to be home."
