The Blar Witch Project

Log Info

• Title: The Blar Witch Project
• Emitter: Ashes
• Characters: Aetheras, Verna, Ashes, Gadget, Braelnoir
• Place: A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District
• Time: Saturday, September 19, 2020, 11:44 AM
• Summary: Ashes joins a conversation in progress between Aetheras and Verna, regarding elves and their magical way. She listens but mostly daydreams, reminiscing about her past experiences in school where she was teased for being too fat and lively. Despite that, they were fond memories, if perhaps not real ones. Coming back to reality she discusses markings with Aetheras while Verna heads inside, his are slave marks, hers are death's. Gadget arrives, under her own propulsion and Ash is shocked into even more silence. The gnome woman is gorgeous by gnome standards and has lovely clothes. She thanks the arvec for her help, then Merek arrives and she thanks him for nothing. Ashlee changes the subject by giving Mr. Jinglewidget a notebook to write in, and he does so admirably well. As he undertakes this, Braelnoir exits the library. Ash calls her over, explaining that she's seen the Witchcrow that the Korrite so desperately seeks, deep in the swamp. Relaying the circumsances, a quest to find a cure which cost them their boots, she explains how to get there. Braelnoir makes plans, while Merek offers to assist and then starts speaking to invisible angels in the air. Brae offers to give Ash her old cavalry boots, and the pair bid farewell and ride off on her pale horse, a skull-faced woman with another in a dark cloak and carrying a scythe.

-=--=--=--=--=<* A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District *>-=--=--=--=--=-

Named after one of Alexandria's most learned (and perhaps addled) minds, the new University District of the city contains a number of entertainment spots as well as areas of culture and learning. Though many structures and sculptures can be found here, two buildings dominate the plaza with an air of friendly animosity--the grand buildings of the Society for Progressive Arcanists and the Artificer's Guild.

Poised on opposite sides of the central plaza, the two face one another like old misers, each uncertain as to what the other's up to, and pranks between students are a rule of thumb. A series of levies and fines exists should they get too far out of hand, though at times the results may be spectacular. Performers often make use of the great plaza by filling it with music, and rare is the visit without passing a performer's hat or three, five, or nine. Likewise, ramshackle shops selling every sort of magic bauble line the ways, all of varying (and often questionable) quality. A grand statue of Sage Orum overlooks it all, his expression slightly perplexed perhaps, at its mixture of grandeur, invention, glass-filled baubles, and chaos.

At the far end of the area, is the city library. From public records to research into the history of the city and the region itself, there is much one can learn at the city library. Many stories tall, the building towers up over well-lit, tightly-packed cobblestone streets.

In the distance, the Redridge Mountains rise overhead in all their glory. At their peaks, one can see the airships docking, landing, and flying off again under the banners of not only Alexandria but many great nations.

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

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aetheras     5'9"     150 Lb     Shadow Elf        Male      Vast-touched: obsidian eyes, deep bronze skin, dreads.
Verna        4'5"     98 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak.
Ashes        5'11"    177 Lb     Hobgoblin         Female    A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face
Gadget       3'6"     38 Lb      Gnome             Female    A bundle of...possibly joy?
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Ashlee arrives in the Sage Orum plaza to a conversation already in progress. Verna and Aetheras are chatting under the shelter of the library's external structure. They seem to know each other but are obviously not pals given the body language.

Verna stands near a small structure in the courtyard as some partial respite from the rain as she converses with Aetheras. "Wisdom and power are not intrinsically linked, and it is far better to have the former over the latter."

A grey and shadowy figure who blends well with the chilly rain is blown in by the wind from the east. She appears close to the shelter of the library and the two people talking there. She knows one of them, and can tell from her body language she's acquainted with the other. Thus, the ashen Arvec drifts over to stand near Verna. She does so quietly, the rain soaking her hair and making her threadbare clothes stick to her. Whatever makeup she might have decorated her face with has washed away, leaving only the bright white of her skull marking contrasting the gloom of her clothes and the weather.

Aetheras smiles that smile only elves are capable of giving from the vantage point of their century or more of life. He is about to say something when he notes the Arvek's approach, and falls silent, awaiting to take on Verna's reaction, though he offers Ashes a little yet friendly smile.

Verna is either aware of Ash's approach directly, or by Aetheras' hesitance and silence. Her hood turns towards, then dips in a nod. "Greetings, Mourner Ash. You are out to enjoy the weather, I presume?"

Ash never smiles, so she doesn't return Aetheras' although a slight nod of her head acknowledges it. She stands with her hands at her side, one holding onto her ancient satchel. Raindrops that have completed their journey through her clothes drip away from her fingers. She has an unsettling aura, akin to a graveyard, which complements the cold drizzle in unpleasant ways that the arvek herself ignores. Ash appears content to be a slightly darker swatch of the grey day, surmounted by her stark face. She nods to Verna's question, "Yes, Mourner Verna. It is perfect."

The two mourners stare at each other, one trying to determine if it's humour, the other is sure the weather is great for funerals as it gets everyone in the mood the way a hot sunny day doesn't. One suddenly tries to imagine the pair of them going out for a night on the town, the most popular taverns, seeking to meet new and interesting people... and also considers following in Her Mistress' footsteps and finding an exuberant Serrielite to associate with, but they seem few and far between.

Aetheras snorts at the comment on the perfect weather. "You'd hate the Vast, forsooth," he says, but leaves it at that, looking at the dripping fingers.

"Ah, I am Aetheras," he adds, remembering to introduce himself given that Verna said the woman's name. "Well met."

"Hi," Ash says, her voice an uninflected monotone. She sounds distant and bored, although she makes up for this seeming inattention by staring. Lots of staring. It's very obvious whom or what she is paying attention to: currently Aetheras. Her eyes do a long slow pan from his feet to his face. After what must have been a minute or two of silence she adds, "Yes. I would not like the Vast."

Her fingers continue to drip. She must have reached equilibrium, with constant trickle traces down her arms and similar rivulets that let water out around her feet. Ash is soaked to the skin and remains exposed, collecting rain.

It's not that she isn't cold, the weather is truly miserable and the mourner feels it. However, it also reminds her of her first day of school, which remains a warm and happy memory for her. After her adopted mother, the noteable Blar Witch, died when her project failed; Ashlee, the project, failed to fill her black shoes and ended up a wandering, homeless waif.

She grew from a waif to a drifter, a talent which she maintains to this day, and drifted into an abandonned school. There, she received her education by sitting and staring at the blank slate and imagining all sorts of things. Or perhaps there really was a ghostly teacher, and ghost mean girls who teased her for being too fat and lively. She, after all, had meat on her bones and a heartbeat, unforgiveable flaws for that elite clique of teens who were, simply, perfect. Try as she might, Ash was unable to suppress her Joi de vivre and even her deadpan humour and dead manner was too sparkly and bright. Her friends, or perhaps frenemies, criticized everything. Her breathing, her need to eat, her rude insistence on being warm and generating heat. How she pretended to sleep so convincingly. The mourner, a pre-mourner in those days, learned to lie awake at night and stare back at the ghosts staring at her. This made her dead tired during the day, which satisfied everyone. Oftentimes she'd faint right away, to all her imaginary friend's delight.

Of course, she would still make gurgling noises of hunger, and there was that incessant circulation of blood. How rude of her. Sometimes her classmates would pretend she had finally passed the hazing and could be one of them. A week or two of pleasant lurking would follow before they would rip the illusion away and laugh at her, and inflict so much negative energy she thought she genuinely moved on. This would fade though, and she would return to being the class reject. Even complaining to the teacher was no help. Now she was a snitch. The lessons dragged on, Ash feeling more rejected and dejected, did her best to blend in.

And on drizzly days like this one, she's at the peak of her skill. Her attention turns towards Verna next, who also receives a long stare.

Aetheras holds the stare as long as he can, looking more and more aggrieved as it continues.

Then his deadpan look fails him, and he starts to laugh. He even pokes Ash on the shoulder, completely misreading everything.

Ash is solid when poked. She rubs at her shoulder, staring at Aetheras again. "Yes, I'm real."

"That you are, Mourner Ash," he says, having clearly never used the title Mourner before, as it sort of sticks in his mouth. He scratches at the base of skull, the various decorations in his dreads clicking lightly.

"I should embrace the rain like you have....the Jotunbrund certainly seem to have mastered that," he says, pointing with his free hand at a pair walking across the courtyard, perennially under-dressed for the weather and unperturbed as well.

Ash turns her gaze, watching the pair of tall forms move through the rain. "They are like rocks," she says, an observation or a judgement. Looking back at Aetheras she makes a small shrug, "It is easier than a bath."

Which, it very likely is, although prehaps also not the best of showers. The mourner glances at her other, then looks at Aetheras once more. There's a slight flicking of her fingers, a nervous discomfort. Another test. She suspects the conversation still rests with her, she has to throw it away somehow. She scratches at her large, goblinoid ear before dropping her arm again. "You were talking about Elven wisdom and age?"

Aetheras nods, "They are. I admire them."

He turns his attention back to Ash. "In passing," he says, smirking, "The focus was on elven ignorance, specifically mine, as I'm unable to do anything that even approximates magic. At this point, even slight of hand seems to be more magical than me."

"Rocks are nice." The ashen Arvec says, having no real opinion on them. She does enjoy what she finds beneath rocks, but that's a conversation for another time. She understands the importance of sticking to a topic. Now, wanting to be magical and not is never a problem she's had to deal with, although she can imagine a few parallels.

"You might grow into it." Ash suggests, her phrasing remains monotone, "I didn't think every elf was magical. Does it... upset your family?"

Elves have family, yes, they do. She's pretty sure that is the case.

"I have none, I was captured and sold into slavery!" he says, rather cheerily. "But I made my way here--stories for other days--and, well, I can do a few things, rather, eh, instinctively...but this tome and formula and sulphur thing drives me to distraction!"

He does a little dance move of sorts. "But I can dance and fight /beautifully/!" he offers, with a flourish of a bow.

"Oh." Ash says, still sounding bored, although she straightened a little at the information. He dances! Ash, does not dance. Her familiar dances, she, does not. Best to head this off before he invites her to cha-cha, or perhaps flamingo and dip. Her hand clutches tightly at the strap of her satchel. With more urgency to her words than normal she asks in monotone, "Can I see your slave mark?"

The rain continues to fall. A few shadowy shapes pass by, carrying umbrellas.

Aetheras smiles, "Yea, no one asks, everyone side stares." He places the tome on top of his feet so it doesn't get wet, straightens up and opens up his clothes, flashing his muscular left pec and its slave mark with pride.

Ash directly stares. She blinks. Perhaps the rain that makes it to her eyes prevents her seeing clearly, "is it a tattoo or was it burned in? That looks painful."

She briefly considers making a similar gesture and showing off more of her markings, then dismisses it. Instead, more staring.

Aetheras covers himself, hiding the slave mark. "Branded," he replies, which is quite obvious so he's wondering if he's missing something. "Ah, eh, yours?"

"Mine are not slave marks," Ashlee explains, then draws her finger along her cheek. Nothing smears, her markings aren't make-up. "A tattoo that whitened my skin."

She holds her free hand out, palm up. There are stylized bone on the back and her palm, and around them she has a cool grey skin, presumably her natural colour, that's similar to a shade of ash.

Verna says, "Excuse me, I have to get something inside." She goes into the library.

Gadget shifts with the tink-tank of metal on cobblestone, pushing a baby buggy designed for infants of creatures twice her size, yet low enough to the ground that it can't be coincidence that it's a comfortable size for a gnome to be pushing. She runs from cover to cover, stopping and pausing before waving a hand over herself, her clothes drying to give her some respite before she rushes to the next bit of cover and repeats the process. From inside the baby buggy, tiny eyes peek out surrounded by white fur. Monkey noises ensue. "Hang on," Gadget says, moving to the buggy and lifting the canopy. "Okay, I'm listening properly. Say that again." The monkey inside repeats itself. Gadget looks around. "Where? Which one?" The monkey points at the ashen figure and makes more noises. "Oh yeah. I guess she does look like how the mouse described her. Let's go say hi." She closes up the canopy again, the monkey hand opening it just slightly before Gadget takes the handle and rushes across the square, being drizzled on by the cold rain before coming to a stop under cover shared by Ashes and Aetheras. She doesn't say hello at first, she simply starts the process of magicking her cloak and dress and hair dry.

Ash remains standing just outside of cover with the rain drizzling down and migrating through her soaked clothes to her skin. It's been dripping off her fingers and running down her legs for a while now, with little reaction on her part.

She turns and looks at the buggy, recognizing it, although she is used to a monkey pushing it, and not Gadget?

"Your limbs came through?"

Aetheras is awestruck by the casual use of magic when he has just spent the last three hours bemoaning how abysmally his studies of same are progressing. Also known as not progressing. He sighs, smiles and picks up the large tome he was resting on his feet. "Alas I have to peruse this before my time is up," he explains. He sounds like he truly regrets it but turns with one last smile at Ash and goes.

Gadget looks up. Voice was the same, too. "Hello, Ashlee," she says with a broadening smile, magic coursing through her hair to dry it, though it's still curling from having been rained on, not that that's too unusual, given her style. "Hmm?" she asks. She looks at her arms. "No," she admits. "Ruthee Jinglehammer is, as far as I know, still working on the porcelain. I finally got enough to just...buy everything clockwork. Well, not my eyes. Nobody I know can make clockwork eyes." She finishes cleaning herself from the rain, looking Ash over. "I very much enjoy your style. I know you don't know how to respond, so I won't hold you to social graces. Just know that I enjoy looking at you, now that I can see you." She looks up at the other. "Okay," she says, waving while she looks away and back to Ash. "Have a nice day," she adds out of practiced politeness.

Ashlee stares. She is an expert at this, anyone she stares at knows they are being observed, the singular focus of her intense eyes in their dark sockets make it unmistakeable. She also barely recognizes her friend, she's used to seeing Gadget as sort of a lumpy, grumpy pillow. The woman in front of her now is powerful, confident, strikingly beautiful.

The ashen arvec recognizes her hair, the dress that was described. Her strange moonstone eyes and metal limbs, she knew some were coming. The explanation of the differences helps. She nods quietly, elbows squeezing against her sides.

"Bye Aetheras," She remembers to say after he has left, not interrupting her stare. It feels like the rain has washed all the words out of her head. She struggles and replies in monotone, "Thanks."

Gadget looks up at the rain, then at Ash again. She moves to take Ashlee's hand and guides her under the cover if she'll let her.

Ashlee is pulled under cover. Water continues to drip from her and her clothes. Her hair is completely matted down, and what she wears is form-fitting in a wet-sack sort of way. "The rain reminds me of my first day of school," she says somewhat enigmatically, and doesn't explain further. Instead, she continues to examine Gadget, interrupting for a glance at the bassinette-buggy, then back at the gnome. Her eyes roam over the dress, the corset, then linger on her armoured limbs. A thought crosses her mind, she should say something complimentary.

"You look great."

Gadget smiles and tries not to think if that's a genuine response or just the Arvek Nar doing her best to pretend to know how to be nice to people. "Thank you," she says, following the game, regardless. She then starts concentrating and Ashlee's hair is quickly not only dried, but cleaner than it's been in ages. Even bathwater may not get it so clean. Down her body, cubic food after cubic foot is cleaned as Gadget prestidigitates. Soon, she's nice and dry. "There," Gadget concludes with a nod. She pulls a ribbon and two silk gloves from the baby buggy. She puts the gloves on long enough to pull her hair up and spin it around into a bun before tying the ribbon. Then she takes the gloves off and tosses them back under the canopy. She looks up at Ash before explaining, "The joints get hair caught in them."

Ashlee nods her head again. It would be painfully unpleasant to have one's hair yanked out with every gesture. She considers this, it's obvious, so perhaps she doesn't need to say it. Instead she intones, "I understand."

She is also a little startled at how clean she feels. As a mourner, a witch, and a goblinoid her ideas of acceptable hygene hover around 'don't smell worse than the dead bodies'. She knows how to clean corpses, but the solutions for that aren't the best soaps and shampoos for the living.

"You look very good," She says again, and ends up staring at Gadget's eyes. It's hard to tell where those are looking. The mourner feels the need to elaborate on her mostly redundant compliment, so she adds, "I like the colours."

Gadget smiles both more broadly and more gently than before. She hugs Ashlee and nuzzles her face into the other woman's now very clean shirt over her tummy. "I like lots of things about you," she admits as she lets the hug linger.

"Thanks." Ash is dry and clean and doesn't smell like her namesake. She's warm, somewhat, standing in the rain for a while did impart something of a chill to her but the Arvek Nar is returning to a normal temperature. She awkwardly hugs Gadget, her motions unsure, holding her close.

"I should still visit you?"

"If you want to," Gadget says, pulling back just enough from the hug to look up past Ash's anatomy and see her eyes. "I'm happy to hang out with you. You've been the best friend I've had since I've come to Alexandria. Though, as you can see, I'm not as much of a captive audience."

Ash leans a little to look down at Gadget, still maintaining the hug because she's always unsure how long they are supposed to go. She is very conscious of the soft warmth of the gnome. She doesn't smile, but Arvek Nar aren't known to do so often, and it makes the stylized teeth markings of her skull-face look funny. She has a few silver piercings around the side of her face and in her ears, round pips and bugs. "You asked for help."

She then agrees, "Not a captive, and better than being a monkey. I am happy for you."

The canopy lifts and Mr. Jinglewidget makes some disgruntled monkey noises toward Ash. Gadget turns her head to look at him, then looks back up at Ash. "He wants to know what's wrong with being a monkey."

"The dress would not look as nice on you." Ashlee tells Mr. Jinglewidget in all seriousness, maintaining her monotone. Indeed, she keeps looking at it, the fabric, the fit. Ash likes red wine also, that probably helps.

For a moment she daydreams, attempting to imagine the monkey in the gnome's place, then, wearing the old dress that was reclaimed from the trash. In both cases he comes up short. Of course, little of her thoughts show in her contemplative stare as she returns his gaze. If he was a mind-reader though, he would be subject to quite the embarassing scenes.

Yes, he should say no to the dress. Ash looks down at Gadget again, still maintaining the hug. She adds, "I would not be able to understand you."

Rain falls upon the city, Merek makes his way to where the library is at, taking the time to adjust the spell that keeps the weather from him. There's a beltcape about the waist while he wears a hood along his features. There's a look to notice Ashlee and Gadget, while he nods a bit to the two, "Hey," he offers, pulling back the hood while he pulls the scarf on his features as well.

Mr. Jinglewidget has a few things to say, but doesn't seem as put-out, now. Gadget listens to him for a few moments before saying, "Mmhmm." Several more monkey words. "Uh huh," Gadget says back. Soon, she turns to Ash and says, "Okay, so he says you're right, but he argues he would look fabulous in a properly-sized, identical dress, even without shiny arms and legs. He also says you could understand him if he writes to you, which is true. He has beautiful penmanship, for a monkey." She waves toward Merek without looking toward him. "Hey," she acknowledges.

"Gadget, this is Merek." Ashlee makes an introduction, looking in his direction. She probably can recognize his voice, she didn't need to do that.

"Gadget got her limbs and eyes." She states the obvious, but she probably needs to do that.

"Oh." Gadget and Mr. Jinglewidget have her attention again. She has to let go one arm from the hug. She reaches into her satchel and takes out a small notebook and writing instrument. She holds it towards the monkey, in case he he has things he wishes to write to her. "You should get him a dress then. You would look fabulous together."

Gnomes like to look fabulous. This is undisputed.

Merek takes a look to the two, while he seems to think about it, "I'm glad, it's nice to meet you this way," he mentions, while he offers an incline, then he looks to Ashlee and to Gadget, "I am just getting back from fishing in the mountains, really." He smiles a bit.

GAME: Gadget rolls 1d20-2+3: (1)+-2+3: 2 (EPIC FAIL)

Apparently, monkeys also like to look fabulous? Still, a monkey with a pen and a notebook apparently must have something to say. He looks at the pen, then up at Ashes, as if waiting for something...probably ink.

Gadget, meanwhile, uses her words verbally. "Thanks?" Gadget tries. "I mean...I'm the same person. You made a lot of noise about helping me, but obviously didn't get it done. Meanwhile, Ashlee brought me food almost every day, even going so far as to feed me. I mean...it's the times when you have nothing that show you who your true friends are."

Ash has a small pot of ink which she withdraws from her satchel and gives to Mr. Jinglewidget. She looks over at Merek, then down at Gadget. She waits, unsure what to say and practicing her being-a-ghost skills. A warm and solid ghost, but then again, she got teased a lot for that back in school. She awkwardly offers an excuse, "Merek has a lot of demands on him."

GAME: Gadget rolls 1d20-2+3: (20)+-2+3: 21

Merek lifts up that brow at Gadget, seeming to be a little bit perplexed by the statement, "I apologize." He then nods a bit to the two while he looks to Ashlee, "I'm glad you are there for folk," he notes. Those luminescent eyes seem to consider while he takes a moment to look to that rain, "It's a nice day."

Mr. Jinglewidget treats the ink with care. He sets up the wood plank with prices inked onto it as a desk over the front of the buggy. He lays out the notebook carefully, undoes the lid on the ink, dips the pen, and begins to write. The handwriting that comes from his hand is beautiful, despite the comically large proportions of the pen he is using. Many scribes would work hard to attain the level of penmanship this monkey possesses. Gadget reads his writing aloud. "Yes, I write good."

Ashlee likes the rain, the way it trickles and snakes over her like cold fingers. It feels like being pulled into the grave. A grey day is perfect for making one melancholy, reflecting on the vagarities of life, and setting the mood for a funeral. Mourners often, and Ash specifically, appreciate the dreary atmosphere and the way all colour is leached from the surroundings leaving only the brightest to fight against the dying of the light.

She also knows most other people don't, and that what she enjoys isn't considered 'nice' by the norm. It's a bad sign and one she's struggling to interpret. "Mer-mer, are you feeling ok? You should get in from the rain."

The ashen Arvec watches as Mr. Jinglewidget writes, then Gadget reads aloud. She agrees, "Better than I do."

Merek smiles a bit, "I'm doing well enough, I like the weather, what have you all been up to?" he asks, lifting a brow in thought a bit. He then seems to content in settling in from that rain beneath that canopy.

"We've been making little good luck desk ornaments," Gadget says to Merek. She takes Ashlee's hand and holds it for a moment. "And spending time with our best friend in all of Alexandria." She looks at Ash's hand for a moment, looking a bit sad. She pulls the hand to her own cheek and nuzzles against it. She looks at Merek. "You want to be dry? I can dry you."

"Meeting goblins. Helping Gadget. Looking for boots." Ashlee says, pulling up a pantleg and showing off a monstrous bare foot. It has stylized bones tattooed on it as well, and being goblinoid is larger and uglier than a human or gnomes. She has big toe-knuckles, and thick nails that could be claws. Gadget has her other hand, softly helds against the gnome's cheek. Ash gives it a little squeeze when Gadget looks sad. Her eyes dart between the two, and she finally says, "Thanks."

Merek nods a bit to the two, while he seems to think about it. "That's nice," he states, then he takes a moment to look to the city as a whole, "You can if you like, though none of that rain really got on anything I wear," he notes.

Ashlee says, "Oh."

The rain doesn't touch him now. There is possibly a spell for that. Or he's learned to walk between the raindrops. That is on the ashen arvek's list of things to accomplish. She may have to wait a while. Nan Mochthrath could, so it's not impossible. Perhaps after she's learned to walk on water, which there is a spell for, but she could also get boots to let her do the same. Her thoughts drift as she stares at Merek silently, internally debating whether she would like to walk on air, or swamps, or walls. Perhaps she could get stompy boots, Lysos has a spell like that which has turned out to be quite useful. She might have to actively involve herself in combat though, and she prefers not to. Watching is far better, especially when she can suggest the opponent give up or die, and they die. It's only happened a couple times, but it has been thrilling.

Some wine would be great right now, and a better Goblin Army Knife. She looks down at Gadget and squeezes her hand again.

"Ok."

Merek looks then to Ashlee while he thinks about it, nodding to the woman. Not knowing what's on her mind, but knowing her introspective nature, he seems to consider. He then looks to that rain, "The world might be coming to an end, it looks like we all need to fight again."

"The world ends every day for someone, Mer-mer, and things usually turn out as they do. In fact, almost always." Ash says philosophically. She isn't going to worry about it. Not unless the Temple sets her on that task, and currently she has sewer duty. Sewers, as she has told them frequently, are not swamps.

She's also not a swamp witch, and can't understand why they seem to believe she is. She grew up in a perfectly normal isolated hut deep in a creepy forest with an old crone. No swamps for miles. Well, there was a bog, but she didn't go there. Except when she wanted leeches. The sky's still pissing on everyone's campfire, it seems...

Emerging from the library with an... oppressively bored expression, or maybe it's eyestrain, an armoured woman with long silver hair steps out into the elemnets with a grumble. She's gonna be oiling her gear again, tonight. With a moment's thought, her attire changes, becoming an Inverness style leather longcoat that encompasses her breastplate, but theads under her weapon's belt, while something like a peaked officer's cap shields her eyes from the precipitation. That done, she ventures further into the square, looking about with her scythe propped over her shoulder.

Merek looks thoughtful, while he nods a bit to Ashlee, then notices Brae. The man inclines to the woman, while he seems to think about it. A looks to Gadget, "Well, with all of this rain, there will likely be a lot of fish." Ash is blending into the background of cold and wet, so she's not surprised when the woman exits the library and doesn't notice her. The change of clothes is noted, mostly though her attention is on the scythe.

"Not a Monster." She calls out loudly in monotone, "I know where your Crow is."

Mr. Jinglewidget writes more things with the nice pen. The monkey's handwriting rivals the best scribes (even if it's only on their off days), though the content of his writing is less substantial now that nobody is directly addressing him. Gadget reads his writing aloud. "This is a nice pen. Monkey monkey monkey. Written by Sir Jinglewidget, Dragonslayer." Gadget ruffles the fur on top of his head, which he smooths over with his free hand. "Gonna write her a story, then?"

Braelnoir makes out some of the folk braving the elements, drawing notice first to Merek as he nods at her, giving a quick upnod in return, then, as she's about to open hailing frequencies as it were, Ashlee's remark draws her eye like an errant fish hook, "What, where?" Her level of anticipation at this sudden revelation is veiled behind leather and contoured steel, and could also be attributed to the chill, but her course changes and her stride becomes a hasty powerwalk.

Merek looks then to Ashlee, while he glances to Brae then, taking a moment to consider it. He offers a light pat to the woman's shoulder, while he nods. Then listens to the two.

A story would be enjoyable. Written directions may be necessary. Ashlee looks at the writing monkey, then faces Braelnoir. She's almost the opposite of the woman, the same height with no weapons and no armour, and somehow a little bulkier. Must be the hobgoblin bone-structure. She has no additional make-up on her skull-face, it's been washed or cleaned away. Without blinking, she explains in a flat voice.

"I saw the crow deep in the Felwood, in a swamp with three witches. Tenoc the sith'makar, Baz the oruch, Edinaz, Josselyn the City Guard, and Nels know how to get there also. We went there to find a cure for a poisonned woman. It's where we traded our boots."

"It's the Crow that hates you. It recognized me." The ashen arvec completes her story. She was there, it's entirely true, and a swamp and other witches were involved but that does not make her a swamp witch too, even if she did stay for tea.

Gadget looks up at Ash for a moment. "Why haven't you just...bought yourself new boots?" she asks. "I mean...I know you have money. Are you waiting for /just/ the /right/ pair of boots to come along?"

Braelnoir stares into Ashes's eyes as the hob tells her story, a certain intensity in her gaze. Her eyes narrow and she glances sidelong to some spot of cobblestone off a way as she mulls that over, "Are the three witches pals with Ghisha's fuckin' bird?" Amending shopping list: Thunderstones, Alchemist fire, tanglefoot bags, flash powder.... She'll need more hands for this for sure, there's too much chance of things going wrong taking on three spooks and the Murderchicken without backup. The commentary on Ashes's footwear doesn't break her train of thought, at least she doesn't seem to react to it.

"Yes." Ashlee says, returning the intense stare with her own blank and occasionally dead-seeming one. The answer works both for Gadget, and Braelnoir. Perhaps more details are necessary though.

"I'm thinking over what I want and deciding if I want to ask Merek to make them." Oh that's so much easier than asking directly. Ash decides to talk around people more often, although this will only work if they're paying attention. It's risk she'll have to take.

"It acts like their familiar, but it is not. They finish each other sentences. They are very close. And old. And not ogres." However they may have graduted from crone to hag, it wasn't easy for the mourner to tell. "They will use your greatest fear against you. Baz's is being fed elven food by kobolds."

Merek looks then to Brae, while he nods a bit, "I can assist with gearing you up a bit perhaps. I know potions that will assist you," he notes, then looks along to Ashlee, "I can, of course," he mentions. A little nod along to Gadget, then back to the party, "I am willing to assist people in anything they need assistance with."

"I--" Gadget says, considering. "I can write pretty, as can Mr. Jinglewidget. I am also pretty decent with artifice. After that, my talents are mostly in being naturally amazing." She attempts a snap of her fingers, which just makes a metallic clink, but it doesn't stop her from striking a cocky pose as if she were a gnomish model.

Hrm...

Brae absorbs that new information, meeting the Arvek's eyes as she speaks anew, nodding at several points in the update, "Thanks, luv." she says distantly, still plotting preliminary needs as she reaches out to gently clap the spooky woman's shoulder. As Merek speaks, she turns his way, "Think I'ma need it, luv, thanks." She glances at her scythe, then, "Got'n itch ta work on this a bit, too." The talk of poetry pique's an eyebrow, and the Korite turns to regard the Gnome, "Hi, an' you are...?" expression still vaguely distracted, likely the tactical stuff is still going on in the back of her mind.

"Thanks Merek." Ash responds to his offer. She hasn't made up her mind on what she wants, yet, and so far walking barefoot around Alexandria hasn't been that much of a burden. Still, he's always ready to assist with assisting, a trait she remembers from long ago which is a good one.

Her attention is drawn to Gadget's pose, and she's convinced. The gnome does seem naturally amazing, and unnaturally endowed. Ash is trying to get over those eyes. They should have dots. She and the seer are both looking otherworldly.

Back to looking at Braelnoir, the Not-a-Monster. Ash doesn't smile, her expression remains blank. "A merchant, Aros knows the way also, but he's a merchant." So, only good if one wants to buy things and the Arvek will describe the route for free. She does so, summarizing the roads and the way they went through the swamp and the various dangers en-route. Mosly leeches and frogs, which one should not eat or lick, and insects which were pestilent but not unusually sized. She keeps it simple too, not because she doubts the woman's intelligence, but because she keeps her words minimal. Once done, she adds an introduction.

"This is Gadget, a friend of mine."

Merek looks then to Ashlee, and nods a bit. He does not know what to make of the conversation between her as well as Gadget, he seems to be content to think to himself. He then leans on the wall while he looks to rainy skies. "sandy blah bleh bleh beagle beagle sandy sandy bleh bleh blah beagle blrgl sandy blrgl blrgl bleep beagle blrgl bleep bleep beagle bleep" he asks. <unknown>

"Gadget Hackwrench," the pretty and mechanically augmented gnome confirms with a big smile. "I speak several languages, but that is not one of them." She pauses for just a beat before adding, "Rude!"

Braelnoir squeezes the shoulder as Ashes gives her more directions and, she nods the Arvek's way, affording their feet a quick glance, "Got me some cavalry boots I don't use, anymore. Still in good shape, feet look about the same size." A little shrug, then, she nods at the introduction and offers a hand, "Braelnoir, nice t'meetcha, luvvie." with a little smile, the structural peculiarities not getting any particular notice from her, as she's been too long altered, herself. Merek's verbiage warrants a peculiar look over her shoulder his way, "Sup, Mer?"

"Cavalry boots will be fine." Ash confirms, relaxing a little as her shoulder is squeezed. Some guilt from their first meeting vanishing, perhaps, or the satisfaction of another message passed on. Her toes curl, tightening and the stretching out again.

She steps back a little so the korrite and the gnome can greet each other properly. Merek gets a stare, she didn't understand but she doesn't ask. If it was something he wanted her to know he would have used one of the languages she understands; he knows a couple of them.

Her familiar crawls out of her satchel, then up her sleeve. He emerges from the collar of her neck and loops around it and pretends to be a choker now that the Arvec is dry.

Merek seems a bit thoughtful while he looks to Ashlee, Brae, as well as to Gadget, then it's back to the skies with a nod a little bit. "I was talking with an Angel about a little thing," he would note, he seems to actually mean all that as well.

"Celestial is a weird language," Gadget says. She repeats some of the odd words as best she can, mangling them completely. "Shouldn't Angels be, like, a billion years old and already know all the languages? Couldn't you just speak Trade-speak to them? If not, HA! I know more languages than you, stupid bird person!"

Braelnoir nods, "Got'm back at th' Fernwood. Feel like pickin'm up, usually 'round dusk's a fair chance o'catchin' me back from training." she says to the ashen one. As the others delve into celestial linguistics she nods, then glances at her scythe, "Well, I got some things ta take care of. Till next time, live free'r die well." She claps the Kor branded gauntlet to her chest with those words and starts to make her off.

"Wait." Ash says, loudly but not urgently. "I can take you there, then where you need to go."

She makes an arcane gesture with her hand, looping and somewhat horse-shaped, and then pretends to pull something out of her satchel and throw it down as she completes the spell. A small, personal joke.

A pale horse, complete with riding tack appears in front of her. She steps up to it, then glides onto its back in a smooth motion. It's a little unexpected, but hobbos like their horses and she looks right on this one. For the second time in as many weeks she is riding off to get some boots! She holds a hand down for Braelnoir to boost herself up.

"I'm very happy for you Gadget. I'll come see you soon." Ashlee says, and makes a small wave in Merek's direction, "Be careful with the angels."

She makes a third wave at the empty space he was speaking to, in the hopes she guessed right.

Merek offers a wave to the three, "I should be back to a bit of work," he notes, "You all be well," he states, waving a little.

"Bye, guys," Gadget says. "Bye, Ashlee," she says, giving her friend special farewell privileges. She looks at the monkey. "You're going to have to give that pen back, eventually," she says. He makes some monkey noises and keeps writing. "Okay," she says with a shrug.

The Korite glances back at Ashes' offer and nods, "'preciate it, Ash." There's a little list of the head as Ash pulls a pale horse out of her pocket, shrugs, and strides toward the pale horse by the time the Arvek is saddled up. She accepts the hand and with some experience, swings herself up behind her. A Mourner with a skull face, and a dark clad woman with a Scythe on a pale horse, fading off into the rainy evening...

Dramatis Personae

Aetheras
An atypical member of his race, this relatively large and martial-looking Shadow Elf stands out as much for the marks of time all over his body as for his unusual build and features.

His eyes are entirely obsidian, though they sparkle as if there are star-motes within. His dreadlocks are gathered up in a high pony-tail, and decorated with feathers, bones and beads, their tone and sheen reminiscent of thick copper wires.

His unusual dark bronze skin shows scarring, random burn marks, and most importantly, a large slave-mark on his right pectoral.

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.

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.

Gadget
It's hard to mistake the gnomish beauty for anything else. Her beautifully kept, loose curls of golden hair frame her youthful, feminine features. Most of her face is flawless, without blemish or even a freckle. She has a cute, button nose and full, pouty lips. The exception to the flawless beauty lies in her eyes. Her eyes are each a solid piece of pure moonstone. Any light shining into them give them a ghostly, blue color intermixed with the paleness.

Below the woman's face is a slender, feminine neck that flows gracefully toward the velvet of her dress. Wine-red velvet hugs her busty chest, keeping her quite modestly covered before disappearing under shining steel at her shoulders and brown leather of a laced corset beneath her underbust. The red velvet of the woman's dress flows out from under her corset and drapes over her legs to just above her ankles.

Gadget's limbs appear to be normal arms and legs sleeved in plate armor. When one listens closely, the sound of gears whirring and clicking can be heard whenever they move. The reflective, steel plates are shined to a mirror finish and wrapped with an aged brass filligree studded in certain locations with decorative moonstone.

There is an ever-present capuchin monkey somewhere nearby.

Braelnoir
A woman with almost unblemished, sunkissed skin, standing most of six feet, she's probably Acanian, though broad enough of shoulder that she's probably more than a little Aesir as well. Life has cultivated her a solidly muscled physique, tempered to a balance between strength and grace. Silk of spun silver forms a left-parted train from her scalp, bound doubled back on itself into a low ponytail, it still reaches beyond her belt. Her features are fine and even, with stern brows over wolflike amber eyes and a tendency toward a feral grin. Her voice is a smokey tennor, accented to the particulars of Stormgarde. Ruling the knot of muscle of her right arm's shoulder, an emblem of gleaming, pebbled silver renders a howling skull within a heartlike boundry, the only mark upon her skin.

The only 'jewelry' upon her person is a copper earring in her left ear, from which dangles a small brass skeleton and an artfully simple gold ring on the finger of her left hand.

A fine, nearly black, breastplate, tempered to an almost iridescent blue violet, is cross strapped at her back, over a fitted arrangement of black leather, with a raised hood that comes to a mild peak over her brow. Her right hand is clad in a heavy spiked gauntlet of fine, solid make, probably an Arvek design, while the left is protected by a half-fingered leather affair with an hourglassed demi gauntlet over that, stamped with the symbol of Kor. Her legs are clad in loose trousers of what could have been sailcloth, dyed black in a way that left various whorls and ripples of smoke grey. Overknee greaves of black leather are strapped over matching hardsole boots cut just a bit longer.

Her other accoutrements are manifold and equally diverse. A Khazadi bandolier containing Gods-know-what crosses her torso right-to-left to leave the pouches lining the inward curve of her waist without impeding her sword arm. An Aesir warhammer rides double frogs on her right hip, while a short sword rests in a sheath on her left, and a finely tooled scabbard is borne over her shoulder by a baldric, itself holding a greatsword of exceptional, if mundane, Acenian make.