Cold Iron Knuckles

Log Info

• Title: Cold Iron Knuckles
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Cesran, Cryosanthia, Culix
• Place: A02: Lower Trades District
• Time: Wednesday, June 09, 2021, 11:50 AM
• Summary: Aryia is shopping for weapons in the Lower Trades District. So is Cesran, and Cryosanthia, and Culix. They all converge on the same weaponsmith and enter into a discussion. Cesran inquires after Aryia, as he lost track of her at the Temple. Both Culix and Cryosanthia are interested in the demon attack, and want details. Through discussion it is discovered that some were slain, but the weakest may have escaped, and the most powerful ones and their caster, did. Cesran suspects it was some attempt to call out Merek, and Cryo recalls Braelnoir's information that a group were hunting him a few months prior, but little details. Both resolve to try and find out more from him. Aryia is distraught over her performance in the fight, and angry at Cesran's excessive helpfulness and casual approach to death. She asks if this is the line between normal folk and adventurers that Cryo mentionned earlier. Cesran apologizes and admits that money does solve a lot of things, including death, while Cryo reveals her experiences with Salina, Eclavdran and Kor left scars; scars for life. She takes refuge in a Mage's Magical Mansion which Mikilos casts for her, as a way of coping. Other basic adventuring advice is shard, and Aryia decides to purchase a Cold Iron duster, while Culix picks up some silvered and cold iron bolts, and Cryo dithers. Lily's tradespeech is improving, as well as her handspeech understanding, and she ends up translating to Cryo, although not perfectly. Everyone leaves to get on with their day.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A02: Lower Trades District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Lower Trades District is the home of the working man of Alexandria. The Lower Trades is divided, unofficially, into two parts: that controlled by the gobbers, and that controlled by the khazad. The two areas stand in contrast, one with a strong, almost formal architecture and a predilection for blacksmiths, the other a mixture of propped-up rubble and gunpowder. The latter's started to grow however, and take form with the aid of the more structured Arvek Nar. Still, the two stand as uneasy neighbors, though the oruch more easily work both sides, often in the spirit of a friendly, if competitive, warriors' competition that's unique to Alexandria, itself.

Here, the "khazad section" boasts a number of blacksmiths, glass smiths, artifice shops, and basic taverns, as well as any number of trades shops and eateries. The sweet tinge of oil, iron, and spiced BBQ is everywhere. Shrines to Reos, or marks of the same, are found over most doorways, in homage to the khazad Mountain Father and World Smith.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aryia        4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    A heavily scarred mul with a curious look about her.
Cesran       6'1"     185 Lb     Human             Male      A tall dark-skinned man
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Culix        3'2"     36 Lb      Goblin            Female    Beady-eyed goblin female in leathers and hood.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The sun hangs high over the Trades District, not a single cloud in sight to mar the vibrant blue. Amongst the clanging of metal and the drone of haggling, a lone mul'neissa stands out amongst the crowds, face pinched into a squint from the brightness of day. The back of her longsleeved shirt seems to have been haphazardly sewn shut from some serious tears, and her scarred face is dragged down in exhaustion. It's only been a couple of days since the altercation at the temple, and it was still obviously on her mind.

Currently, she's peering through different vendors of the khazad, trying to find something that'd fit her obtuse stance on using weapons. From afar, Aya waves.

Cesran comes into the trade district on foot, although with his staff ever in hand. He nods to a couple vendors that he knows although when he spot Aryia he starts to head over in her direction. "Aryia, it's good to see you, how are you doing?" He asks in a polite tone as he stops to take a look at the weapons as well.

It's a day for weapons shopping. A whitescaled Sith'makar glides amongst the Alexandrians like a tall ship tacting into port. Long straight paths with sudden turns as her strides overtake the other pedestrians' and she moves around obstacles.

She does seem to be avoiding low overhangs, and there's a certain stiffness to her motions.

On her shoulders is a carnation-scaled youngling, riding a backpack and playing a harmonica. The little one glances around, mostly happy to tweet loudly on her instrument and make odd beeps at things around her.

"Aryia, Cesran, Peace on your Nests." Cryo slips in beside the pair, glancing at the weapons as well, "Shopping?"

'Pwweeee' Lily plays. It's almost a 'Peace'.

She startles slightly, her so deep in her head she didn't catch Cesran approaching. Her gaze goes past him, then around before finally addressing the man.

"I'm okay," she halfheartedly signs to him, a fresh bandage dangling free from her sleeve. "You?" <Handspeech>

She turns towards Cryo, her face softening a bit despite looking tired. "P-s - -st," she replies in her usual pop and hiss with a raised hand to the two of them. She nods, glacning to Cesran.

Culix is making her way, as happenstance has it, towards that selfsame weapons vendor. She's rolling a coin back and forth over her knuckles as she moves, and seems in a fair enough mood. Despite the warm weather, though, she still wears her cloak with the hood up, and she does take a glance this way and that as she heads along, slipping in between taller folk as she approaches.

Cesran looks at the bandage that is dangling from Aryia's sleeve as he looks over over to try to access any injures she might still have. Not his forte exactly, but he's seen enough wounds to know if someone's still hurt. He replies to Aryia's quesiton if he's okay, "I am doing well, still a bit rattled over what happened at the Temple of Serriel. It's unusual for those types to be so bold, but I suppose we'll have to keep up our vigilance. Those were some extremely difficult enemies."

Cesran hears Cryosanthia as she and Lily approach and shifts so he can include them both in his conversation with Aryia, "Peace upon your nests. I am here to meet a contact of mine about another merchant actually, just talk, nothing to buy for me today."

Lily perks up on Cryo's shoulders and leans over so she's looking down, all the way down her Ssassa, at Aryia. Very carefully she says, "Peasss. on. you. kneeees-tah." She can speak; Aryia can't. She's a kobold child, she doesn't get to feel superior to anything most of the time. She does when she can.

Cryo gives her youngling an odd look. Lily looks back. Two lizards staring. She starts playing her harmonica again.

"Okay." The whitescale says, looking back to the adults and the conversation, "Ah, I'm looking for daggers. Well, someone to make them. Ideas for things I want made. I was going to ask Braelnoir."

A longer look at Aryia, and her injuries, "Something happened to you after the 'Filthy Oar'?" At Cesran, "And to you? The same thing, at Serriel's Temple? Or different things?"

Aryia couldn't help but snerk at their antics. She waves at the litttle one and gives a thumbs up. Close enough.

Though, she rubs her arm. The Shadow Elf nods at Cryo's observation. There didn't seem to be any wounds remaining, just these were the last bits of bandages to make sure things healed over nicely.

"Hard to sleep from that. I almost didn't go back up around there to get fully checked out." <Handspeech>

Culix finally draws near to the imprompty gathering, catching the tail end of the conversation- Cesran and Cryo's parts, at any rate, "Got in a spot of trouble inside the city?" she wonders, inviting herself to the conversation. "Never a good sign." she adds after a moment, before wiggling her way over towards the weaponsmith. "Got them bolts I ordered?" she asks, and flicks the coin over with her thumb. She gets the stink eye for her improper method of handing over the currency, but nevertheless the smith heads out back to fetch what she's after.

"You are fully healed though or are you still recovering? I have a healing potion or maybe two on me if you need to use it, or I'm sure we can find one here and buy it for you if you are in need of it." Cesran says looking at the bandages. He addresses Cryo's question, "There was a devil attack at the Temple of Serriel. Aryia, Knightmare and a War Golem who's name I didn't catch were there as well as myself. Someone looking for Merek I think or trying to cause enough trouble to bring him out. There were Azizous, which are demons, but also Bearded Devils and Erinyes as well as someone who was either summoning them or controlling them or at the very least commanding them. Aryia, Knightmare and the other War Golem did fine against the Azizous, but the Bearded Devils were a more difficult enemy. I had to deal with the spellcaster and the Erinyes and even for me it was touch and go for a while."

"At the Temples." Cryo says, sounding distant. The temperature drops near her, not significantly, but noticeable, like moving from the sun to shade and still air to a breeze. Her tail goes still and hangs low. Lily stops playing and gets squirmy, reaching to pull on one of Ssassa's horns, which she ignores. "Devils."

The mage has her full attention. She listens to the story, her head bobbing slowly with glances at Aryia for confirmation. "Those two things associate badly for me. This one was attacked several times by demons at the fountain in the square. Someone looking..."

Her voice trails off. Her memory was perfect, once; it's still good but details are fuzzy and take time. "Someone was looking for Merek a while ago. He was hiding in the wilderness. Braelnoir kept visiting him. He said he could handle it, but he was avoiding Alexandria, and I heard he was nearly killed, so I'm not sure..."

"Those... all sound very dangerous. Did anyone come to help?" There's a bitter tone in the whitescale's last question, followed by a distracted, "Oh, Peasse on your nest Culix."

Then, "Peace." Her youngling's diction is catchy.

"I'm fine," she signs a bit forcefully, jabbing her chest with her thumb. "Healing magic won't do much more."

Aryia gives a wave towards Culix, glad to see more familiar faces showing up. She shivers slightly from the change in temperature, her crossing her arms and stepping further into the sunlight despite already being in it.

The sil shrugs at Cryo's question. "I don't know. I ran," she mentions with a hand. <Handspeech>

As they talk about Devils, Culix glances back and forth between them, an eyebrow raised. She lifts a hand, wiggling her fingers in greeting to Aryia, and then huffs a bit. She digs into her purse and produces another couple of coins, "Second thought, I'll take them cold iron ones, too." she calls out to the weaponsmith, who- already on his way back with her initial order- is vaguely annoyed to have to head back out back to fetch her additional request.

"You'd think the guard would be on it like flies on shit." she says, "But then, they're probably too busy nicking some youth for pinching a loaf of bread down in the lower markets." she snorts derisively.

Cesran leans on his staff, "Was it a woman, a spellcaster." He says as he describes that woman that he saw that was attacking, "She might be have a glamour on, but I saw her true face." He nods, "The Vanguard and Lancers of the Temple were quick to respond, but unfortunately not before some did get hurt. I took some injuries myself, nothing life threatening." He looks to Ayria, "Are you sure you are fine? There is no shame in retreating from a battle like that. You have to keep yourself alive to fight the next battle, stronger. I'm admittedly not very good at comforting people after something like this. I was hoping to find you Aryia to see how you were holding up after the attack. Being hurt like that is hard to come back from I have died a couple of times myself and thankfully have been allowed to come back."

Cesran smiles at Culix, "Smart move with demons and devils making hit and run attacks on the city."

"Faran and I, and Acedia and Halani, we were chased into the Dreaming Dragon's temple by a Demon Duke. Another time a vampire strolled into the Dragonfather's temple and was killing priests. Not a Sunblade or Silverguard to be seen. They left on their own, we were useless." Cryosanthia says, more edge to her voice, her surroundings getting colder still. "We had to run. We were running."

Even colder, "Twice one of us had to stay behind to die so the others could escape. Verna. Acedia. We were lucky to get them back."

Lily uses both hands to pull on her horns, trying to steer her Ssassa's head physically somewhere else, off topic. She pulls so hard she lifts herself in a chin-up.

Cryo's attention is turned, slightly, "Those are good choices, Culix. The regular patrollers wouldn't be able to do much. I saw some elite guards teleport in once. For a bar fight."

Inhale, exhale, nod slowly with a kobold accessory, "Glad to hear some Lancers responded. And Cesran is correct, sometimes the fight isn't winnable. I didn't become what I am to run, but I've had to." Too much.

If Cesran wasn't great at comforting others, Aryia wasn't one that took being comforted very well. "I said I'm FINE," she signs a more forcefully with a frown, the last word knocking against her sternum with a muted thud.

Maybe physically fit. But certainly wasn't 'fine'.

"You all talk about death like it's an obstacle. Cryosanthia-" she points to the sith'makar, "said there's a divide between normal people and adventurers. And I can't see where that line starts or ends, because what happened that day was the very thing I was afraid of happening the first time I met you two and you both talked about this."

"I don't care about running away. I'd rather live," she finishes her rant with her arms crossed, foot tapping against the stone road. Antsy. <Handspeech>

Culix nods her head, "Was wondering if they'd be worth, but I guess they're something you'd rather have and not need, right?" She shrugs at Cesran. The smith finally returns with a couple of bundles of bolts, one half of them tipped with silver, the other dark metal looking similar to cast iron. "Aye, that'll do." she says then, as he wraps them up in some paper for her and ties it off with string.

While all this is going on, she's watching Aryia out of the corner of her eye- not clear on the meaning of the gestures, but it doesn't take a sign reader to get the tone of them. She snickers a bit, "Whatever you're selling, she aint buying." she tells Cesran then.

She nods her head over towards Cryo, "Aye, sounds about right, for guild work. Went from never having been outside the city to fighting ice elementals in some ass end of no-where ice cave like" she snaps her fingers "that. Reckon the guild has a whole different definition for the word 'normal'"

Cesran bows his head, "I apologize I didn't mean to badger you. You are right our perception of death is skewed and different from normal people. You are right that we treat it like an inconvenience because with enough gold and friends it becomes just that. It's something we avoid not because we'll never come back, we avoid it because we don't want to spend the resources to deal with it."

He looks around, "Other normal people who live their lives rightly fear death because that would be the end for them and they respect it accordingly. Adventurers put themselves or find themselves in situations where they might die a lot. I suppose over time most of us become used to it." He sighs softly.

"I just wanted to check up on you and see if you needed someone to talk to about this. I might not be the best person, but I just wanted you to know that I'm here to just listen if you want talk about it. I know handspeech too so you wouldn't even have to hear the sound of my voice if you didn't want to." Cesran tries to joke.

She recognizes those scents. Those signs, Aryia's obvious anxiety, she's felt that way, said that. The weight on Cryo's horns gets through to her, and she lifts Lily off them and around to hold her protectively to her chest. This doesn't make things better for the kobold, as her Sith'mom is getting cooler still. A small halo of frost is forming around her feet, and her breath is visible.

She may be hugging her youngling for herself.

The whitescale kneels, so she can face the Mul'niessa on a more even level. Her reptilian face isn't very expressive, although her pupils are wide like a begging cat, and her nostrils flared. Her voice is soft, and crackling, a slight hum to some of the words. "Last summer was a slaughter, Aryia. A lot of people died. Salina killed everyone in the Soldier's defense, both Faran's parents and everyone at their research station. A lot, around the temples. She'd take people and replace them with constructs and cut them up in her tower."

The whitescale swallows, her pupils get a lot wider, her eyes looking completely black. Between her words there is a humming-moan-thrumming noise and Lily is both shivering and pawing at her cheeks. "This one was there, for years, cleaning up the bodies for her. This was my Mis.. Mistake. We tried to rescue them. We couldn't. We couldn't save anyone and we had to keep running, and running, because we couldn't do a thing."

"I'm so scared of dying and I never have. I've seen so much. I don't understand how Merek and Mikilos and Cesran are so casual about it. I've lost so much, and... and... and..." She's having difficulty breathing normally. A sudden calm descends on her, like a switch flipped. Her tone and accent even change, her words are very even. "You've been through a lot. Your scars tell that. It gets worse. I tried to save the world and all that happened is my world got very small, and I still can't save it."

Her youngling's anxious pawing finally gets through to her. Her pupils contract back to slits, "Oh Lily! Silver Scales! Oh I'm sorry. I'm sorry everyone, I shouldn't... I try not tot hink about those times." She sounds horribly embarassed.

Her surroundings are warming up again, at least.

Aryia chews her lip, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. The joke doesn't land, either her not getting it or just ignoring it. "I don't see how that's relevant. I'm doing as good as someone who was dropped into a pit of hell from just having a normal day normally is. I can't sleep. I'm worried that even just standing here is going to get me killed by some insane person with an axe or suprise demons."

She presses her face into her hands, a tremor running through her. Was that her, or the chill in the air? Perhaps a bit of both, Aryia raising her bloodshot, milky eyes to lock on to Cryo. She listens. Intensely so. Gaze flicking over the scaled face. Normally, she'd shy away from such proximity. But despite the frigidity and the deep seated fear that Cryo held, Aryia didn't feed off of it. She looks almost... relieved? The lack of detatchment to the topic felt nice. And it put to words what the mul could not.

Unsure if Cryosanthia had picked up Handspeech during the time since they first met, she instead hesitantly reaches out and puts a hand on the Sith'makar's shoulder. She mouths, "Thank you."

Culix snorts at Cesran, "That's the way of the world right there, that is. So long as you got enough money and the right friends, aint nothing you can't worm your way out of. Even biting it." she says then. "Not much comfort to those of us with neither, mate." she chides him absently. She peers towards Cryo, and listens, though she remains quiet while she speaks- as she's adressing the Mul.

Eventually she chimes up again, "Way I see it, could just as easily get your throat slit for a purse full of silver as anything else. Aint much point fretting what could be, just gotta deal with what is." she says and then shrugs her shoulders. "Don't think of it as anything so grand, myself. Guild work pays decent. Dangerous, but so's being a rigger or a miner. An' they don't pay half so well."

Cesran takes a deep breath to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts, "I am sorry you are going through that. I'll take my leave." He says as he can see that Aryia is best left in Cryosanthia's hands at the moment and that his presence is not helping. His intentions were good, but the road to hell is paved with better intentions then his. He looks at Culix as she chides him, "You are right, it's not. It's obvious that I'm not the best person to help with a matter like this. I was concerned and sought to lend assistance, if desired. If you'll excuse me." He says as he goes to head away as he still has business here.

Cryosanthia may be good at inferring from context and the conversation she does understand, but she hasn't picked up much handspeech despite her efforts. The Mul'niessa's touch on her shoulder does seem to help, the lizard woman visible relaxes. Despite the coolness of her body, it's approaching more normal temperatures. "Thanks," she says, bowing her head to Aryai.

"The guild does pay well." She comments to Culix's, "And death can come in the mines or rigging or from bad shellfish. Or while fishing. That's true."

"A moment more please Cesran, I have a question, but must say this first." The whitescale remains in her crouch, calling after the Mage. her tail coiling back and forth slowly. She rubs her carnation-scale's back, keeps her focus on the Mul'niessa, "My Mist... my Mistake scryed on me for months. Messed with my mind." A glance at Cesran, "This is why Seldan doesn't trust me still, anything said around me she would hear. They would make false plans to confuse her."

She stares at Aryia again, "I never knew what was going on, when she'd strike. Mikilos can make a magic space, and I'd hide in that. I still ask him to when I have... issues. If you attract the attention of something powerful, it will keep coming after you until you deal with it. Know the exits, know your allies' strengths, flee if you have to, retreat to safe spaces. Korrites, Knights and Paladins won't leave until everyone else has. Tell them if you're not going to stand, so they know your position will break. Get a Reduce Person potion, so you can drag someone my size out."

Her gaze shifts between the two, Cesran and Aryia, "They were dealt with, right? Killed? Didn't get away?"

Aryia leaves her hand there for the time being. Though, she couldn't help but give a dark chuckle at the mention of fishing. She looks down at the ground, a heel grinding into the stone. This all sounded very... familiar. She wasn't the most educated person, but she wasn't dim. And gears were turning in her head.

The mute pugilist shrugs her shoulders at the question. She didn't know. She ran.

Click.

Her head snaps up and tilts to the side, looking at, perhaps past, Cryosanthia. "The war game..." she signs slowly, starting to catch on. <Handspeech>

Culix snorts, "Mark the exits 'soon as you go anywhere, that's just basics." she says and scratches the back of her head. "I'm hadly willing to go anywhere don't have at least one more way out than the front door." she says and then shrugs. "Then again, that might be my past showing through. Maybe not all adventurers are so canny, or paranoid." she says then.

"And you-" she calls over to Cesran. "Don't go wallowing jus' cause someone doesn't want to take your hand." she says and then shrugs, "Not everyone wants a leg up, whether they need one or not. An' your brand of comfort might not be for everyone." she says then. "But- It's unmanful, sulkin 'cause your offer was turned down." she says, folding her arms across her chest, the bundle of bolts shoved into her pack for now.

Cesran pauses in his exit and does turn to face the others, "The Bearded Devils were killed, most of the Azizou were as well, perhaps one got a way, the Erinyes fled with the spellcaster via teleport." He says matter of factly. He looks to Culix and says in a calm voice, "Not going to wallow or sulk, just removing myself from a situation where my presence is detrimental and/or unwanted. I came here to meet a contact, but when I saw Aryia I thought to inquire as to how she was doing after the attack and if she needed any help. That's it nothing nefarious or untoward, just concern for a fellow person. If I saw you runaway from a battle and days later saw you I'd inquire as to your well being as well and lend me ear if you wished to talk about it. Aryia doesn't so sometimes discretion is the better part of valor." He looks towards those gathers, "Is there anything else you need of me or information that I can provide."

Lily, who is watching Aryia carefully and perhaps picking up on handspeech faster than her Ssassa, reaches over Cryo's shoulder to fetch something out of her haversack. She hisses in the whitescale's earfin as she does so. Still cradled in Cryo's arms, she's holding a small yellow dog figurine and posing it like it's looking around.

"Yes," Cryo says enigmatically, waving a hand in a vague gesture that encompasses everything. "Sometimes things can't be spoken of directly."

The yellow dog keeps panning, well Lily keeps panning it, in an arc that includes the Sith'makar.

"This one apologizes if it's well known advice. Lily needs to hear it too. This one doesn't mean to treat you like children by stating the obvious to you." Cryo says, even if Culix and Aryia are within that height range for her. She's working on it, really, "My apologies also Cesran, for the questions, and comment, and not greeting Ral-sara. You have been a great hep. Thank you. Perhaps Merek knows more, this one will try speaking with him."

She looks at the Mul'niessa once more, "Aryia, if you want, Mikilos has cast a lair for me and there's lots of rooms if you want to stay in it."

The mute woman cycles a breath. She wiggles her fingers at Cesran. "Hey. Look. I'm still not used to people trying to help me, okay? People helping you in Charn usually means something else," she admits. "About half the people I've met here have tried too hard to help me when I didn't ask for it. Mostly thinking they were helping with how to fix my throat when I already know damn well the ways to go about it after being like this for almost four decades." Seems like she was still miffed about a certain encounter. But still she was at least *attempting* to be grateful. Now that she had a voice, in a way, one could wonder how crass she would be. "Anyways. Thanks, I guess, for checking on me." <Handspeech>

She looks to the yellow dog figurine, the memory of the war game playing out in front of her as it sentried in front of her. "You're fine," Aryia motions, touching her sternum again with her thumb.

The offer gives her pause. "... why?" she slowly moves, a downward motion across the side of her face. Almost like a pulley with her brow shooting up. <Handspeech>

Culix shrugs her shoulders a bit at Cesran, "If ya say so." she offers, cheerily enough, but she leaves it at that. She unfolds her arms, now, and stuffs her hands in her pockets instead. Not being so clued in on all the hand gestures as the others seem to be seems to be iritating the goblin a little bit, as she watches them with an impatiently tapping foot.

Her attention goes back to the whitescale, and she tilts her head a bit. "One of them magic mansions?" she wonders- even though she wasn't the one invited. "I'd sooner chance kipping on one of the benches in the park. Better the guards come move you along for vagrancy than whatever nonsense magic like thats' like to conjur forth." she says.

Aparrently her teleportation mishaps are sticking with her.

Cesran inclines his head respectfully, "It's okay Cryosanthia, I asked Ral-sara to be quiet." He looks to the staff as the dragon head does speak, "Hi Cryosanthia and Lily, it's good to see you two again." Cesran smiles, "You are welcome. If I see Merek before you do I'll try to speak to him as well."

Cesran nods, "That's understandable, I can see how coming to a city that's heavy in adventurers wanting to help could be annoying at times, if not more so. You are welcome. If you do need any help please let me know and I will do my best to be of assistance. Before I go..." He turns to Culix, "Would you like the spell comprehend languages cast upon you so that you can understand the hand speech that Ayria communicates in?"

"Put him away Lily, the point is made. She gets it." Cryo instructs her youngling, batting at her possession. As the Kobold reaches over to her back, she hisses quietly to her, "what did she sign?"

There's a sibilation of translation between the two lizards, and the white one nods.

She looks over at Culix, shaking her head, her sapphire eyes sparkling, "No it's really amazing. Mikilos lets me design it each time, it's just like having my own place. Worst thing is we've popped out unexpectedly forgeting the 'get-out' time."

She sounds enthused about this particular spell as she admits to Aryia, "Well, my wings haven't come in properly and I'm feeling vulnerable and I feel safer there. Oh, you mean, why for you? Uhm. Well. Only things on the allowed list can get in, and it's much harder to scry, so ... well... it makes me feel safer." She glances at Culix again. Clearly a lot safer than she would on a park bench.

Lily whispers a few more things. Cryo adds, "An errant thought. This one doesn't mean to offer unwanted help, and... this one understands not trusting Mages. I had a phobia of them, well, until I didn't. For reasons... Mikilos used to terrify me, now he's one of my best friends."

"Peace on your nest, Cesran, Ral-sara. This one wouldn't mind that spell actually." Cryo admits. Lily waves and says, "Peaass. Go."

Aryia looks between the others, her finally stepping away from Cryo and holding her arm by the wrist idly. She had no idea who this Ral-sara was, but she filed it away for later. Being vulnerable. Yeah, she understood completely. Though, she frowns a bit.

"I don't trust mages," she bluntly signs, looking to Ceseran and,-suprisingly- to Cryosanthia. "Mages and clerics. Magic in general. I think I will be fine, don't need the room thing. Thanks. Compared to you two, I don't think anyone is going to try and fuck over a runaway slave on a whim." Except maybe one group. Buuuut she didn't mention that.

She gives a parting wave to Ceseran, stepping back once to give him room to cast a spell. And to stay away from it. <Handspeech>

Culix pulls a hand from her pocket and scratches her cheek at the offer, and nods her head once at Cryosanthia. "Wouldn't say it's so much a phobia as I don't much trust 'em to know what they're doing." she admits, and then shrugs. But she sighs, "Would make things a mite easier." she admits to Cesran, then, "Sure, go for it."

Cesran nods as he casts the two spells on one Cyrosanthia and the other on Culix, "There you both go, for the next 200 minutes or so you will be able to understand any written or spoken languages. With that I have to go, I'm afraid I'm probably late to meet my contact. Peace on your nests." The dragon headed staff bows her head as well, "Peace on your Nests." Cesran gives a wave, "Farewell." He says before he turns to head off.

"Peace on your Nest, Cesran" Cryo says again, while Lily just waves, makes shoo-ing motions, or other hand signs. The whitescale, benefitting from the spell now, asks her, "Are you sure you understand properly. Some of those are bad signs."

Lily looks as innocent as any lizard can. She flicks out her tongue.

"Well, that's knowing your Allies, Culix. Mikilos and I have been through a lot together. He's made some difficult sacrifices. I trust him completely. He's careful. Cesran seems knowledgeable and dilligent too." Cryo elaborates, a certain name noteably left off the litany of compliments.

She nods slowly to Aryia, picking up her meaning by her withdrawal and glances. The Mul'niessa's signs came before the spell, and Lily has decided to get back in the saddle and isn't translating currently. "It's okay. There's a lot of good reasons not to trust me."

There's a list. She's aware.

The sole elf of the group looks between kobold and sith'makar. She blinks, and her gaze slowly slides off to the side. Oops. Aryia fights back a snicker.

Now able to fully communicate, Aryia moves more briskly. She'd been practicing quite a lot with those that she knew who could sign, as well as sticking herself in a library to hungrily learn what she could. And she was starved. "To be honest, I don't trust anyone. Maybe S-E-Y-A-R-D-U, or... I can't spell her name, small Lucht with a loud bird. But that's pushing it. And after the temple thing, the amount of how quick things went bad left a bad taste in my mouth." <Handspeech>

Culix watches the signs with fascination as she suddenly understands their meaning, tilting her head to the side as Aryia signs. "Oh, trust is it?" she wonders. "Aye, best to trust only yourself." she says then and shrugs. "Ran with a gang I trusted to have my back and they stuck a knife in it, left me in the clink for the past five years." she says, and frowns, falling quiet after a moment- seems she has more to say on the topic, but she's not saying it.

"To be honest, when it comes to guild work, I for the most part trust folks not to do me over. Mostly. But even so, I'm marking my own exits and keeping my head on a swivel." she says then. "Just seems like good sense, to me. Since they'll let just about anyone sign up, if they had me."

Cryo watches the signs, rocking her shoulders with a bit of stiffness to her movements, resettling her pack and the weight of her youngling. "Lucht with a bird. Yes. Faran mentionned one. I think I met her, or saw her around the guild."

"Which is a mixed bag." She exhales, standing taller. "This one isn't going to claw on fellow guild members, but yes. Had an Egalrin kill my prisoners once when I looked away."

"Not Pelka, he's very good. A female one, I forget her name." Cryo clarifies.

The whitescale is silent for a few moments, simply standing there and staring at nothing in particular. She looks at the table, and the weapons. She exhales, "Get... something, even if you're not good at it or don't like using it. Something for range. I wonder, can you get cold iron caltrops?"

She glances at the vendor, "Do you..?"

"No. Special order. Very special."

Aryia purses her lips at the idea. She'd rather save her own hide for most things, but prisoners? The elf spat on the ground off to the side.

She looks at the table as well, not feeling any of the instruments of battle. Except...

She points to Cryo, holds up a finger as if to keep the idea, then points to a brace of metal. Thinly metal, with leather loops to thread one's finger through.

"Could one of you tell him that I will buy a cold iron one of those." she asks of them. <Handspeech>

Culix handwobbles at the thought of killing prisoners. "I mean, depending on the situation. If they was like to escape or gut you in your sleep or something along those lines, I could understand it. Still, takes a certain sort of person to do for an unarmed prisoner." she says then and shrugs. "Suppose if they did it when you still needed something from em. Like information or the like, that's just cutting off your own nose to spite your face." she adds.

She watches Aryia's hand signals, tilting her head a bit, "The dusters?" she wonders. "Oi, smith." she calls out, hopping up to wave her hand to attract the attention of the smithy. "She wants some cold iron dusters." she informs him, as requested.

"They were small, your size, bound." Cryo answers, tinges of anger and disgust in her voice, "She was mine. Didn't want to carry them back. Or something. Which I ended up doing with their frozen corpses anyhow."

"She was difficult from the outset, snatching things, flying off like she didn't need us." Her tail twitches violently enough to thump against the side of the weapons display. She dips her head towards the merchant, "Apologies."

"Dusters. Yes. This one thought that was a cestus. Or Brass knuckles. Cold Iron knuckles. Yes, whatever Culix said, these in Cold Iron for Aryia here." The whitescale smiles awkwardly, lots of teeth.

The smith gave a gruff huff, frowning at Cryo. "Special or-" he began to repeat, but Aryia just slaps down a handful of gold. There's an awkward pause, but there's no refuting coin. "... fine, come back later today."

Satisfied, the elf turns back to the group. It was a good idea, didn't get in the way of her hands. "Thanks. A was

The smith gave a gruff huff, frowning at Cryo. "Special or-" he began to repeat, but Aryia just slaps down a handful of gold. There's an awkward pause, but there's no refuting coin. "... fine, come back later today."

Satisfied, the elf turns back to the group. It was a good idea, didn't get in the way of her hands. "Thanks. I need something, like you said. Regardless, I hope I don't have to be put in such a position, after having been the prisoner before. Anyways, Cryosanthia. Seyardu is having trouble finding someone to help with that body's burial."

She checks the sky, looking at the time. <Handspeech>

Culix frowns a bit on the topic of bring a prisoner. She doesn't say anything, simply nods her head in agreement with that particular sentiment. She stuffs her hands back in her pockets, then. "I ought learn handspeach for real." she says, then. "Seems like it'd come in handy for sneaking about, even for folks who /can/ talk." she says then.

And then snerks, "Plenty of folks who can talk, don't even consider whether they ought to." she muses.

Cryosanthia watches the money exchange, following the gold. She watches Aryia's hands next, nodding once more, "I'll look for her and see what I can do."

She exhales, glancing up at the sky, "Pack the body in bait and feed it to the sharks, or burn it, this one has no idea. The funeral fires at Mictlan, sometimes you see... things."

The whitescale doesn't elaborate further. Her gaze comes back down to the ground, "My advice, if someone in your party insists on going first, or running ahead alone, let them. If they aren't concerned for their own safety they'll take you down with them, like a drowning man."

Another nod, "It is useful. This one is trying to learn goblin, so I can understand what Lily is talking about to the merchants in Goblintown. I'm cleverer than most of the People but about average for softskins."

"Some people shouldn't talk, I agree. Even though I only learned how to speak with my hands a few weeks ago, I still find it easier to just not say anything."

Perhaps she should ask at a future date about how all that burning rites work. It was beyond her. And a bit too complex. Aryia nods, thinking about a time in the past. "Or if someone doesn't want to listen, there's no point in changing their mind. If someone doesn't care for my safety, then why should I care for theirs. Regardless, this language is incredibly useful. And I'm glad I was shown it after so many years. Still need to learn how to read and write properly."

Aryia adjusts her sleeves and straightens up. "I need to get going, dock work. Nice to see you two. Peace on your nest." She gives a wave to the two, (and a pat on Lily's head) before stepping off to the side and heading out. <Handspeech>

Culix nods her head a bit at that, "Learned my letters when I was in the gaol." she admits then. "Had plenty of time." she adds a moment later. She rolls her eyes at Cryo, "That's all well and good, but not if they go around waking up every guard and sentry they can find on the way. Prefer to be ahead, that I can get behind folks and stick 'em before they know they're under attack, you know? Or thieve keys off 'em or knock em out of what have you. Can't very well do that if the lanterns are out and alarm bells are ringing, now, can I?"

"Have a good work day Aryia," Cryosanthia says, waving. Lily plays a little marching tune, piping the Mul'niessa out then switching to something a little quieter. "Thank you sir, this one will look over weapons another time, this one's thoughts have gotten too distracting."

This evokes some grumbles, but he did get paid for an order the whitescale helped recommend, so not too many.

Cryo gazes at Culix once more, "This one... had a few specific people in mind. Mages. Not sneaky, or that good at fighting, that go ahead, or alone, or do things without warning, or make agreements with Fey and Outsiders for the whole group, or..." Her voice trails off, she's sounding very specific.

She gestures at herself, "I move well but I'm not quiet. I have no illusions about how well I can sneak up. Only in snow in a snowstorm. There have been very few occasions when I have needed to, or the group had more than one person that was any good at it."

"Advanced scouting is different from... throwing yourself at everything in front of everyone else. Anyhow, this one would not lecture you on things you know."

Culix snorts at that, "Bloody fools, is what you mean." she says then, simply. "Known a fair share of them, too." she adds then. And shrugs her shoulders, "figure it's hard enough to find your place without worrying all the time if you're not cut out for what you end up settling on." she says, and glances after Aryia. "Aint done much traveling with her, but I reckon she has her head screwed on better than she realizes."she says then. "Anyroad, it's about time I made tracks myself. Need to see a man about a dog." she says, cryptically. Cryo winks a pale blue eyelid, "It's me. I'm talking about me. I leap to attack when I'm surprised, don't know what I'm doing, and I'm a trouble magnet but don't worry I hardly adventure anymore." Statements that are not entirely inaccurate, but also not completely untrue. She's sounding very cheerful.

Then switches more serious, "She made it out of Charn, that makes her better than most."

Then completely enthusiastic, "A puppy! You should see Maori about her Riding Wolf starter packages! Good luck with the purchase, and... well you know. Watch your back."

The Sith'Makar woman waves happily, dipping her and turning to go in her own direction. Her Kobold youngling pipes up on her harmonica, and the pair gracefully slip off.

OOC

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "The Salina/Magic Ooze arc was like that. Several months of facing mobs with +30 on multiple attacks while being level 8, running, dying, and creatively begging into demonic pacts to stay alive."
<OOC> Cesran says, "That just sucks."
<OOC> Aryia says, "jeez"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "for a while I didn't wear armour, because I couldn't get above AC30, and was going to be hit anyhow with anything except a nat 1"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "less to carry, easier to grab the Lucht and Goblin and stay light enc for fleeing"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "or, there's a reason I have an enchanted cold iron dagger that hits invisible targets and automatically recalls"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "A lot of us who were in that are still kind of IC/OOC traumatized. :)"