A Metaphysical Tellurian Deep Clean

Log Info

• Title: A Metaphysical Tellurian Deep Clean
• Emitter: Ashes
• Characters: Ashes, Glasha, Sandy, Verna, Merek, Seldan
• Place: A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District
• Time: Wednesday, September 09, 2020, 9:52 AM
• Summary: Ashlee is having a wander when she runs into Glasha, who is in her wagon, open for business and looking for business. Sandy emerges from the Soldier's Defense, angry that some Altean called her fat. Ash assures her she is not fat enough by goblin standards, and her ears are too small, which Sandy takes surprisingly well. Perhaps as Ash offered to help her with any bodies that turned up. The elf and the half-orc talk while Ash drifts off to get her boots and nearly runs into Verna. The two Mourners greet each other in their secret language of gaze attacks. Mourner Ash summons her horse then rides off to get her boots, Mourner Verna dives back into her book, and Merek and Glasha make really small, small-talk. Ash re-appears, her absolutely disgusting boots are cleaned, and Seldan is heading to the Soldier's Defense when he recalls it's time for prayers and rushes to that. Ash, on horseback, also has to go for prayers but does so at a more reasonable pace. Merek goes back to gardening and Glasha takes her cart elsewhere, seeking business.

-=--=--=--=--=--<* A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District *>=--=--=--=--=--=-

The city is divided, unofficially, into Upper Alexandria and Lower Alexandria. The Upper resides further up on the slope of the mountain, and rests to the east of the great river. The Lower resides to the west of it, and if the Lower could be said to have a heart, this verdant park might be its center.

Amid all the bustle of the Lower City, its Gardens District provides a peaceful respite. The warmth of Althea holds sway here, and though Daeus receives the occasional nod, this is clearly Her domain. She shares it with Dana, in the verdant green of this area. Vines and trees, remain green no matter the season and numerous flowers bloom along the park's walkways. Faerie-light lanterns hang from branches and along hedgerows.

A number of shops may be found here, most notably the city hospital, for which the park was originally built. Though now open to the public, the gardens by and large, remain underneath the hospital's care. However, in the Althean tradition, much of the work is provided by volunteers.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ashes        5'11"    177 Lb     Hobgoblin         Female    A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face
Glasha       5'8"     100 Lb     Half-Orc          Female    Green-skinned, young lady with bleached hair.
Sandy        5'0"     136 Lb     Llyranesi         Female    Purple haired, plump elf. Presumably irritable.
Verna        4'5"     98 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The sky is grey and cloudy, and nothing casts a shadow. The northwest wind is chilly.

Since ruining her boots in the sewers*, Ashlee has been trying a new thing. Namely, not wearing them and going barefoot. As goblinoid feet are tough, this isn't a bad idea as long as she's careful not to step on a nail. It's given her a new and different appreciation for the cobblestone streets. Those are smooth, for the large part, but in the cracks there is often slime. When there isn't a big pile of presents left behind by a horse or something more exotic, that is. This makes progress even slower, as one has to watch out. On top of that, sometimes when she touches a stone a sudden insight into the history or events of the city reveal themselves. Here is where Zippo first used his title, 'the Saviour of Solmnus', there is where Bruce McFlintock earned his first gold. It's fascinating.

• Ash's boots aren't really ruined. They need an extensive cleaning and she doesn't like doing that. Leaving them dirty is a sort of 'so there' for all the times she had to spit-shine them in the military. However, as dirty is also 'covered in poo', she doesn't feel like putting them on now that she managed to get them off.

Glasha's 'cart', if one can call it that, is set up with sides down forming steps up to the open floorplan of the forge. She's not forging here, though. She seems to be sitting in the warmth of the silent forge as it pipes hot air up, radiating out enough heat to warm one on this gloomy day. The raven sitting in a welded triangle of metal level with the half-walls of the cart ruffles its feathers as it sees Ashes.

"Oooh, skeleton!" it says in a pale immitation of Glasha's voice.

Glasha looks up from her book at the bird, somewhat confused. She then looks toward the ashen Arvek Nar. "I don't think so," Glasha says. "I think that's face paint. Still, if she comes any closer, I'll cast Disrupt Undead on her, how's that?" The raven seems placated by that, but not calmed, watching Ashes intensely.

Oh, look! It's a grouchy elf!

She's makiing her way out of the Soldier's Defense, actually, apparently having been paying it a visit for Some Reason. Regardless, she looks peevish about something.

"... lose weight. I'll tell him who's gonna lose weight: him, once I finish kicking his ass through his face."

Ah. That explains it.

Ashes certainly has a zombie-like pace down. Her steps are slow. She picks out where she will place her foot, touches, waits for any sudden flash, then moves her weight. She's also trying to avoid wearing off her footpads, which have been shielded for many a year and are tender now. Most people avoid her, flowing around the slow moving person, mistaking her for someone elderly. The aura of the grave helps, no one wants to get close. The few riders or carts wait for her to get out of their way, especially once she glances at them. No need to tempt fate with what looks like a small death. Even 'just a witch' is a dangerous thing to mess with.

The ashen Arvec has moved within disruption range. She also looks towards the noisy elf. She sees nothing wrong, Sandy is approaching traditional goblin beauty. She's got the build, but her ears are too small, and sadly she doesn't seem to have a single wart. Ash, can relate. So she stares at her, hoping that one day she can glare warts into existence. Today isn't that day. She contemplates saying hello, and something complimentary. Ah!

"You need a little more, you're skinny." Goblin standards.

"Wh-what?" says Sandy. She glances over at Ashes, blinking at her. Then she cowls even more darkly and annoyed.

"I suppose you mean well," she offers, "but none of that makes me want to tear that guy's head off any less."

"Ok." Ash says, staring at Sandy. She looks down long enough to take another step, then is back to staring. She probably should say something more, a conversation is at least two or three exchanges. A simple OK likely doesn't count. Offering to help is always good. "Let me know when there's a body to take care of."

Glasha laughs at that. "Oh, I love it," she says, unable to stop from smiling.

When Ashes says that, Sandy stares at her for a long moment. She then bursts out laughing. Hard.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Alas, murder is pretty much a bad idea, much less murdering a cleric of Althea in their temple for meaning well. Doesn't mean I don't want to wipe the floor with the smugg bastard."

She growls.

Helping with a body is one thing, but cleaning? Ash stares! That sounds like work, still, she's just a bit curious, she asks in monotone, "Is the wiping better face up, or face down?"

Glasha would laugh at that, but suddenly, her mind is beset with possibilities. She sets her book aside and pulls out another, starting to scribble some notes with a wax stick wrapped in paper.

"I don't know anyone at the Temple of Althea," Ash adds, in case that helps. Not-guilty by non-association.

"..pfffffft ahahahahah," is what Sandy says, hands on her hips as she laughs loudly. She brings them up behind her head and shakes her hair out. "Well, in any --.. oh hey. You. I remember you. When I was with Avelia the other day," she says to Glasha.

Luna watches Sandy, then looks at the green-skinned, hopefully pretty woman. She pecks gently at her shoulder. Glasha looks up at Luna who looks at Sandy. Glasha looks at Sandy, then around, then back at her. She points at herself with a perplexed expression on her face, as if few people could possibly be talking to the nerdy, half-oruch girl she still associated herself as.

Ashlee nods her head as Sandy laughs. She seems cheered up, and that was three exchanges so she doesn't have to struggle with things to say anymore. She resumes her careful stepping, heading for the opposite side of the street. She could simply run, but doesn't feel like it. Luna gets a bit of attention as she looks familiar, so Ash silently studies the bird.

Luna leans away. She looks urgently toward Glasha. "Disrupt Undead," she tries, quietly. "Disrupt undead!" she repeats, more urgently, leaning away almost to the point of falling off her perch.

"You know I don't prepare that unless I have to," Glasha says. She looks at Ashlee. "Hey, there. I like your face paint. Very interesting look. What can we do for you?" She sounds pleasant enough to be sure. Luna, meanwhile, flaps and jumps, traversing the few feet to Glasha's far shoulder. She hides behind Glasha's head as best she can, which isn't easy for such a large bird.

'I want to pet your bird' seems... wrong. She does not say it. Ash is clearly interested, there's a strong advantage in having a familiar that can do all the conversing for you. Not that she regrets her centipede, oh no, Chippen is simply wonderful. Perhaps there's a spell that will let him talk. The ashen Arvec recalls hearing about a talking caterpillar, she should look into that, maybe there's a way to steal voices. So she's thinking of stealing voices as she stares at Luna, which also lets her look at Glasha, since her head is the hiding place. "Thanks. Nothing right now."

"Not uncommon for a Vardaman, isn't it?" says Sandy, glancing back towards Glashsa. She gives her a once over as she's sure she remembers that. Then the bird is suggesting that Glasha disrupt Ashlee.

That gets a loud snort from her.

Such dignity, much grace.

"Well, if you need anything magically mended or cleaned, or if you're ever in the market for a weapon, I'm your girl," Glasha says with a tusky smile.

"Thanks," Ashlee says, "I have weapons and armour at the Explorer's Guild." In a locker, that she almost never opens. Oh! There was something else available, "Do you clean boots?"

"Mn. I might have some work for you later," says Sandy to Glasha, thoughtfully, looking at her in thought. Ashlee is eyed again, though.

"Your name," she prompts. "I didn't catch it."

"Your name," Ash repeats back at her. "I didn't catch it." She stares, unblinking, "Mourner Ashlee Ciaradh. I prefer 'Ash'." And not Ash-Pash, B'gash, Shlee, Lili, Glee, Ashy-Pandy, Ash-o-leee, Ashlaaay, or Ashy-Splashley. Definitely not 'Twilight'.

"Sure, if you want to pay, I'll clean anything," Glasha says with a smile. She turns to Sandy and says, "Glasha Meldado. Wizard extraordinaire." Perhaps a slightly boastful to say extraordinaire, but she was unusual.

"Sandy is what I get called around here," replies the Good Lady Sandiel to Ashlee. She yawns, stretches her back. Crack. POP POP Pop.

"Hoogh. I've been working too long today already," she grumbles.

Ashlee nods, as that seems the polite thing to do. She looks over at Glasha again, "I'll get the boots."

She turns and starts to retrace her path, looks over her shoulder, "You'll be here tomorrow?"

"I'll be somewhere tomorrow," Glasha says. "This is a cart. I can go anywhere. I'm mostly up in the Sage Orum plaza."

"And I'll be buy with some ... damaged goods I need fixed," says Sandy, giving Glasha a curious look. Perhaps she wonders if she'll be up to the challenge!

"Ok." Ash responds, still walking away. She glances back over her shoulder at Luna one last time. She looks at Sandy, "Don't you have a store?"

"Bring them by!" Glasha says with a smile at Sandy. "Fix-all isn't just me blowing smoke!"

"I do, but who has time to do all your own stuff?" calls Sandy after Ashes' continues to move away. She lets out a quiet sigh and the turns back to Glasha, giving a nod.

Verna travels from the awakening market to the north. Walking is presumed, though her volumous robes make the option legless levitating locomotion just as strong a possibility. Not surprising to those familiar, a tome hovers before her and is perused as she moves.

Ashlee nods and keeps walking. Picking a safe way along the cobbles is a challenge, there are the visible hazards and the invisible memories. It's hard to say which can be worse. Successfully disengaged she slowly heads back towards her mountain temple. Until she steps on a stone which stops her in her tracks.

And right in Verna's way. Oh no! A collision is immenent! Somewhere in the next five minutes.

Sandy looks over towards Verna and inclines her head. She recognizes her and simply gives her a silent greeting. she steps away from Glasha a moment, then.

"Oh." Ash says, snapping out of whatever reverie had captured her. Just in time to step out of Verna's way. Why if she had not, there might have been a low velocity pedestrian accident. Fortunately, mourners would be on hand. As it is, everything remains sunny. She inclines her head, saying simply, "Verna."

Verna is not totally unaware of her surroundings, despite the broad obstruction of the opened book. That Ash breaks from her in-depth analysis of cobbles and/or the ties of those beyond to said stones, however, is hardly unwelcome.

The call is noted, followed by the head dip. Verna's tome lowers and then closes. "Mourner," she notes with recognition. "It is a pleasure." Lady Sandriel is further noted, as well as Glasha (last though not necessarily least). "Good day to you all."

Glasha looks back up from her own notebook and sees Verna. She smiles and waves.

Ash returns Verna's greeting with a similar head dip. She runs a hand through her hair, adjusting it behind one ear. She leaves it there, and her centipede uncoils from around her neck, and climbs through her hair to her wrist, with he spirals around it like a small bracer. Jewelry in place, she puts her hand down at her side again.

Verna's hood pans back to Ash. The insectoid self-accessorizing is noted, though the query that follows is not directed at the many-legged one. "What brings you to the gardens, Mourner Ash?" She does not ask whether she might inquire, as obviously she can. Whether or how Ashes chooses to respond, of course, is entirely up to her.

Merek walks along into the garden of the city, while he has on his dark attire from the cargo pants to shirt of the same, with a hood up, beltcape about the back. The man peeks to people when he comes upon them, a hand moving to take up a watering can, while he begins to tend to a few of the flowers as well.

"Following stories," Ash tells Verna. She extends a foot, which also has stylized bones tattooed on it. It's bare and a little unsettling as it has hobgoblin proportions, like long toes and big joints and a degree of hairness. Nothing approaching a lucht siuil's fetlocks, but still noticeable. "It depends where I step."

"Tales in the stones and mortar of the city," Verna inquires, "of others' pasts?" She knows something of the Arvek's sensitivity to such things; less so of her feet, though she doesn't examine them excessively.

The ashen Arvec nods in agreement, then elaborates in her typical monotone, "Yes, when it's strong enough. What are you reading?"

She notices Merek's arrival and raises a hand in greeting in his direction.

Merek looks over to Ashlee from the hood, while he nods a bit to the woman. He's seemed distant since their expedition, taking the time to look to the flowers, beginning to weave magic along upon each. The man takes a drink of water with him, then he wipes at his mouth, nodding to Verna. He knows both of them, which makes greeting easier.

Verna holds the book up for Ash to read the title.

"Mer-mer, you need to let go of the ghosts." Ashlee says, after staring at him for a long time. Curious with what he's spell-weaving, her spellcraft isn't enough to tell and she doesn't ask. She's used to Merek doing magic she doesn't understand.

So the back of Verna's book, and indirectly, Verna get more of her attention. Books are easier to understand, usually. Easier than people at least.

Merek looks up to Ashlee, then nods a bit, "Easy to say," he mentions with the husky drawl of that voice, taking a moment to look at the flowers, "I have greater things upon my mind which speak of the Metaphysics of the Tellurian." The man looks to the woman with his golden eyes, "Anyway. What brings you about?"

Ashlee sighs, adjusting her short jacket. She's about to speak when she pauses, waits some more. Her voice remains monotone, "The same reason I gave Verna, to get some boots cleaned. Going to get them."

She turns and reaches into her satchel, and literally makes a gesture which seems to imply she's pulling something large out. It's part of an actual spell, where she summons a mount. She's only pretending to keep it in her handbag.

>>Poof<<

There's a pale horse, complete with tack and harness standing in front of her. She easily mounts into the saddle.

"Ah, well that's useful." Merek looks to the horse, "You know, where do you have room in your bag for all that?" he teases, smiling a bit from beneath the hood while he nods a bit, "A little bit of cleaning magic would be useful, if wanting to do it a bit manually, well there are plenty of places to get it cleaned in the city."

"I keep the horse in my horse pocket, obviously." Ashlee answers. She points at Glasha's wagon, which rolled up a while ago and currently has a vigilant raven watching everything. "She has cleaning magic. Back soon."

She reaches back, scratching lightly at her horse with her toes. With a whinny and a leap, her horse canters off.

Merek looks then to Ashlee and nods a bit, while the woman makes a way to the wagon. He seems to content in watching and also taking time with the flowers a bit.

Glasha looks up again from her book. She waves toward Merek. "Hello, Seer," she says.

Luna squawks like a parrot. "Pieces of eight. Pieces of eight," she says, immitating the immitation of another bird, possibly for comedic effect, but also possibly to get people's attention.

Merek nods a bit, while he offers a wave to Glasha, and looks then to Luna, "Argh, me matey."

"Um," Luna tries. "Ahoy?"

Glasha giggles. "How are you, Seer? Come to get some services from us?"

"I'm just planting the flowers, working with the ones that are already in," Merek mentions, while he nods a bit to Glasha. "And what about you?" he asks.

Verna puts her nose back in her book and wanders off.

"I'm fixing stuff, cleaning stuff with magic, making weapons, generally being a nerd and studying. Probably gonna go blind," she jests. "Can't complain."

Merek nods a bit to Glasha, while he seems to think about it, "It's great you're getting work."

Glasha looks around, then turns a page in her book. "Yup. SO much work," she says with a smirk.

Merek nods a bit to Glasha, while he seems to think about it, "Well, I'm sure you'll get business."

"We'll see," Glasha says. "I didn't take you as a flower guy. It's nice to have hobbies, huh."

Merek nods a bit to Glasha, while he seems to think about it, "I like flowers, gardening can be pretty fun."

"I like drawing. Been focussed on astronomical matters. I've been considering what might be out there among the other planets. It's an interesting subject, but I have no backing to conjecture much." Glasha shrugs.

Merek nods a bit to Glasha, "Anyway, you're doing well besides all of that?" he asks, crossing his arms thoughtfully, lifting a brow.

"Yeah," Glasha says with a nod. "Can't really complain all that much."

"Well, fair enough," Merek notes, while he offers a yawn in thought, scratching his thick stubble beneath the hood. "Anyway, I mostly keep to myself."

"You do go out fishing a lot," Glasha notices.

Merek nods a bit to Glasha, "Well, I like fishing, what can I say about it," he muses.

Hooves clatter, a pale horse with a shadowy rider arrives, pulling up beside Glasha's wagon. The woman with a decorated skull for a face stares out of dark eye-sockets. Normally, an aura of the grave preceeds her. This is still present, but overwhelmed by a stink that would rival an Otyugh. She holds at arms length a pair of boots which are encrusted by the waste of the city, so much that they seem to be a single block, a large hunk of solidified sewage.

"These need cleaning." Ash states the obvious, staring at Luna. Very closely.

Glasha recoils some from them. "Okay," she says. She pulls the sleeves of her very nice dress over her hands and takes them, setting them in her lap. "Two platinum," she says. "Up front." She extends one hand, and the sleeve of that arm is...remarkably still brand-new looking. Luna takes a moment to fly away from the stink and into a nearby tree.

"That is not the kind of raven you're thinking that it might be," Merek notes, then he nods a bit to Ashlee, and looks as well to Glasha. He takes a step away to let the two work on that deal.

"I know it is not the Not-Monster's. The eyes are the wrong colour." Ashlee says, taking out some coins and handing them over. "and it's the wrong species."

Glasha accepts the coins from Ashlee and casts a spell. Prestidigitation is easy enough, and it seems to work to clean the boots. The stink, however, lingers, even after the boots look clean. "Anyone have gust of wind?" she tries, waving her hand in front of her nose. "Golly, that's a stink." She lifts the cleaned boots and offers them back to Ashlee. "Here. They should be completely unsoiled, now. Even foot sweat should be cleaned out of them."

GAME: Merek casts Wind Wall. Caster Level: 11 DC: 17

Merek lifts up a hand while he makes a few motions with a word, beginning to whip winds along to clean away the scent, working to make sure it does not blow away his friends. Eventually, it manages to keep away that scent.

Ashlee does not want to discuss her foot sweat. She was somewhat shocked to discover what goblins and hobgoblins consider acceptable is not-so in Alexandria. This was embarassing. Her toes curl in her stirrupts, then splay as Merek sets off his Wind Wall. Might as well take advantage while it's there. She accepts the boots back as the wind blasts them. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Glasha says with a smile. "Anyone else have anything they need cleaned or repaired?" she says, looking around to the others in the garden area.

Merek seems to content once the wind finishes, the man looking to Ashlee with a nod, while he glances along to Glasha, "Not in particular, although do you sell anything to drink or eat?" he asks.

"It's a weapon shop." Ash says. Little curls of metal shavings might be very popular among the golem-kind. She's only talked with a few. "She might sell things golems eat."

"I've never really thought of golems eating," Glasha says. "I suppose that could work, but I'd have to talk to some golems about it."

Merek nods between the two, "Well, I'll keep you in mind for needs of anything that involve weapons, perhaps metal and armor," he muses, taking a moment to think about it, scratching his thick stubble, "Ah, I knew that was possible. Imagine it."

"I can fix just about anything," Glasha says. "If you have anything at all that needs fixing, you bring it to me."

Ash stows the newly cleaned boots on her horse. She takes a cigarello out of her satchel, and lights it. She doesn't say anything aloud, and her smoking of it seems a little distracted. She does stare silently at Merek most of the time though, and watches the smoke rise. Glasha gets another acknowledgement, "Ok."

Merek nods a bit to the two, while he seems to think about it, "Anyway." The man seems to think, while he looks to the cigarillo, then draws one from a pack he keeps with him, then he lights that up.

Glasha turns her nose at the smoking, wishing that wind wall were still around to get that mess out of here. "I can't clean out your lungs after you smoke that stuff," she says to the two. "You guys are on your own, there."

"That's bad for you Merek." Ash says, sounding disinterested. She keeps looking at the smoke trail her own stick is generating. The mourner is watching the cigarello burn more than actively smoking it; it is serving as a large, somewhat foul incense stick. Whatever she sees in the smoke she doesn't share, though she adds, "I'm sorry I got you started."

A glance at Glasha, "I'll put it out." A quick squeeze of the burning end and she does so.

Merek puts his own out as well, nodding to Glasha and Ashlee, with a smile for both of them, "Apologies." The man thinks about it.

"Thanks," Glasha says. "It's bad for you, too, you know," she says to Ashlee.

In the gardens, Ash is on a pale horse, which is standing near Glasha's wagon, which has Glasha and a Raven on it. Merek is near the flowers, with watering can and I assume gardening gear. Other people are about.

Ash nods to Glasha, slowly intoning, "The answers are worth it." She looks around, from her seat on her horse she can see a good ways. Finding Verna appears to be one of her goals, as she looks in the last direction the other mourner went. She couldn't have gotten that far, book and all. Ash examines shadows under trees, and benches, in case she stopped to rest. No luck. She returns her gaze to Glasha, "Thanks for the boots," then Merek, "Try to keep one eye on this plane, Mer-mer, even if you are gardening."

Merek looks over to Ashlee and nods a bit, while he seems to think about it. "Well enough," he muses, to that. The man takes a moment to look from beneath that hood along to people that are about. Nodding to Glasha.

The nip on the breeze dictates a return to more traditional and formal Myrrish clothing for Seldan, a high-necked shirt and trousers under his customary open-front robe and a pair of low black boots with periodic lightning-like shots of blue through the fabric on his feet. He walks the gardens meditatively in the direction of the Soldier's Defense, looking around him as if drinking in everything the place has to offer, a sober and pensive demeanor shrouding him.

Glasha goes back to reading her book until another customer comes up. She's nice and warm next to the forge in her cart.

Ashlee passes by Seldan, looking down from her pale horse. She's in what seems to be a military saddle, oddly with her boots behind her and bare feet in the stirrups. Feet that have some long nails. The tack also seems to be military, and a knowledgable eye would recognize it as Blar's. If that is kept in mind, her faded clothes do have the cut of a formal uniform, one which has been badly kept. The ashen Arvec says in monotone as she passes, acknowledging, "Silverguard."

Merek looks up to offer a little nod along to Seldan, and a look to Ashlee as well as to Glash, offering a little wave while he thinks about.

It takes Seldan a minute to recognize the voice, and a moment after that to place the arvek's face. "Forgive me, my lady. You have the advantage of me," he begins to Ashes. Glasha he seems to recognize, and she gets a warmer and easier smile and a wave. He does not, however, seek to disrupt her. Merek, however, gets a level, assessing gaze and a polite inclination of the head. "I should return to the Temple, though. Perhaps another time?"

He does not wait for an answer, but turns and purposefully strides off towards the east, picking up his pace from the stroll he'd been using.

Glasha watches Seldan come and go, but not particularly intently. She turns a page and scribbles more math notes or whatever she's doing.

"Ok," the skull-faced woman on the pale horse says, watching him depart. Her gaze drifts to Merek and Glasha, offering an explanation, "It is that time. I have to go for Vespers. Most religious types do."

Merek gets a second look, but she doesn't offer him a ride. As before, her intent is to find Verna and give her a lift back, or be early to the prayers. She raises a hand and departs, the clopping of her horse's hooves accompanying her as she heads away.

Merek nods a bit to everyone, and offers a little wave, "Alright, you all take care, I need to be back to business."

Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-All Service has left.

Dramatis Personae

Seldan
There is something about him, if one is human.

It is not easy to pin down exactly what, though. He is not the biggest man, despite a warrior's physique, just shy of six feet tall with a frame more closely resembling that of a gymnast than that of a brawler. Fair as a spring day, with hair equally balanced between ginger and blonde that is grown out of a military cut to fall in his eyes if not disciplined. Ice-blue eyes with blonde lashes hold wisdom and kindness, set into features that are even, straight, and strong. But - in certain lights, and at certain times, humans might almost see in this Eldanar man a glimpse of what a warrior of the Millennium Kingdom might once have looked like.

The warrior theme is carried again in the full platemail that he wears, its finish not a bright polish so much as a shimmer that recalls moonlight when under bright light, and quiescence in shadow. Over the platemail hangs an open, sleeveless robe of midnight-blue with moon-silvery edging and celestial symbols and creatures picked out in silver thread adorning it, and a steel pendant bearing the symbol of a crescent and sphere. A set of gold bracers, depicting celestial symbols that match the symbols on the robe, encircle his wrists.

He wears multiple belts, one of ornate silver links, another a beaten leather affair with attachments for weapons. A longsword hangs from this, from a sheath on his left hip with an ornately-carved pommel and a guard designed in an ancient style, and a much newer-looking heavy mace on his right hip. A belt pouch completes the contents of the leather belt, and a sturdy cloak over all in midnight blue bears the crescent-and-sphere of Eluna picked out in a mosaic of thousands of tiny silver crystals on the back. A simple, unadorned cloak pin holds it in place. Over his back, the top of an elkhorn, wood, and steel longbow is visible, along with a quiver of arrows made of red leather and trimmed in white fur.

Verna
With slight stature less than human but more than Lucht, initial assessments of this figure are often dismissive. Grey robes and cloak seem volumous though they are not large, and obscure most detailed features. Only the cloak, hem of robes, and, occassionally, black boot tips are visible. The only visible adornment is a gilded triangular pendant bearing the image of a scale.

When the hood is lowered, much more is apparent, though the monochrome nature doesn't change. Alabaster hair is cropped quite short, kept off the neck in the rear and above wispy white brows in the front. Both stand out against a dusky complexion a shade somewhere between the robe and boots. Slender bone structure suggests sildanyari influence or femininity, possibly both, though the pale grey eyes lack the exotic almond .

Aside from the usual tome, the volumous robes have acquired a new constant accessory: a coppery spheroid the size of a melon bearing a large amber "eye." It typically hovers over (or rests upon) one shoulder or the other, to either side of her hood. The perfect position for scrutinizing whatever she may be studying or doing.

Merek
This man stands at around five foot ten, while he has a lissome and a somewhat muscular build to his form, and also skin which is dusky in tone. The male has smooth hair which comes towards his chin, the color which is like midnight and sable, although metallic-like tones, have been fashioned within that roguishly unkempt mane. He has eyes much alike a golden amber, catlike within look also.

He wears black attire which is decorated with golden tone. He has on an amulet of the Moon Maiden, Eluna. The boots which he wears are adjusted about both of his feet, while he has a cloak that is the same color of his attire, which has been placed about his frame. He has on his gloves, that are made with material which is sleek. He wears a nice desert scarf which is adjusted about him also.

Glasha
The camoflauging effect of green skin is ruined on this particular woman by platinum-white hair cut in a layered bob. Her round face has surprisingly soft features. Her nose is a little wider than a human woman of the same height and is pierced. A silver ring hangs over her upper lip. Her lips are fuller than many Oruch's, but they part for short, stubby tusks that balance out underbite and overbite with a pair of broad incisors.

Her form is fit and her arms and legs are more thickly muscled than average, though they are also soft and retain their graceful curves, more like a strong human woman than the bulging muscles of an Oruch. She also actually has curves to her body. Her chest is larger than most humans, but not as firm as most oruch. She is tall for a human woman, but dismally short for an oruch.

She wears layers.
She holds a greataxe.
A raven is usually with her.

Sandy
At about five foot, two inches, this llyranesi female is certainly not the most imposing of physical specimens. Her form is alternately a mix of firm sildanyari musculature and plumpness, for an elf, as if she's finished the process of settling into a life of comfort... and is quite comfortable there. Above a scowl are slanted dark blue eyes and pierced ears poking out through her dark purple hair, left in such a way that suggests its owner pays little attention to it. Her skin is pale, even by the standards of her people, as if this particular one doesn't bear any love of the great outdoors. Grease or dirt typically coats part of her physique. With the grease, often a scowl and a tiredness or stress-marks around the eyes, despite her youth.

Sandy is dressed in a pair of flattering trousers of tough chocolate brown material that hug her hips and fall partly down to flare over her calves over a pair of low-heeled black boots trimmed with bright copper buttons. A black shirt is belted therin, laced at the throat, with a pattern of intertwining emerald and pink snakes embroidered at the loose collars. Over this she wears a tailored jacket of interlacing jacquard scales with squared shoulders and a raised collar; the tails of the coat are bustled, so that artfully bunched and folded layers fall into two parts over the backs of her legs, halfway to the knee, lined with poison-green silk. The sleeves of the jacket are split-cuffed with an edge of pintucking of that same silk lining peeking out over curved, folded-back edges. On her left hand is a gold ring with a fat ruby in the center.

Ashes
She has a skull for a face.

On second glance it is a tattoo, white on her warm grey skin. Her nose is a coal black patch while her hair is a lighter, cooler grey. The hair has wavy, thick strands that clump together. Piercings and other decorations enhance her markings, creating a sugar skull, a festive death. Ashlee Ciaradh is not festive. She is a quiet, somber Arvec Nar. A little creepy. It's the way the hollows around her eyes are emphasized, her stare. The heavy jaw with all the teeth tattoos.

There's a chill around her, one unlike that caused by cold weather. A quietness of the tomb. Her clothes are dark, a short half-jacket over a shirt with dark slacks. She has a very battered bag slung over her shoulder, one that seems older than she is.