Purpose of Strength

Log Info

• Title: Purpose of Strength
• Emitter: Yaretzi
• Characters: Yaretzi, Skielstregar
• Place: The Wilderness
• Time: September 1st, 2022
• Summary: Yaretzi is making camp in the forests to the north to escape the city for the time being, the safety outside the walls more secure now that the wight issue has regressed somewhat. Skielstregar, patrolling the woods outside Mictlan, checks in on the lone camper to ensure things are okay. The two fast friends share a meal and converse about what the purpose of strength is, as well as past trials overcome. After Skiel's weapon acts up somewhat, they decide to go spar.

GAME: Yaretzi rolls survival: (4)+8: 12

It's Korday, late evening.

Free of the city, Yaretzi had been dying to get out from behind its walls. With the danger of wights seemingly passed, she sits at a make-shift camp, one that's servicable, but not meant to last but one night. The darkness brings with it a wet chill as a fog begins to set in after the sun had began to set.

Yaretzi had at least managed to start a small fire, her belongings all stuffed into a large bag that sits near the blankets and roll she's placed out for her to rest on. She's enjoying the evening despite the changing weather, a red-bound book in her lap as she reads and tends the fire before her. She's not dressed as usual, her warrior garbs packed away, and just a loose tunic, and pair of work pants are worn to keep her covered, but not smothered in layers.

While the danger of wights had passed, there was still the looming threat of things that creep within the woods. It was still safe, mostly, what not with Mictlan and Wilderness Pointe nearby.

But, never the less, something in the woods stirs.

>Clank< A soft sound of metal on metal, shifting, moving, muffled through the trees.

>Clank< It grows louder. Bringing with it a chill.

>Clank< It's arrived. A lumbering silhouette breaking just the edge of the camp. Covered in metal. Sticks poking out from it in all directions. A malefic polearm in hand! The dead gaze! Fangs! It's an undea-!

"Godclaw!" it cheerfully greets.

Oh. It's Skielstregar. Fully armored and milling about the woods. "Peassse on your nessst!"

Yar's hearing is good, but she can only tell something approaches. Not whether it is friend or foe. Before the Sith-Makar had burst on to the scene with puffing cold breath and his happy tone, the barbarian snaked her falchion in hand, revealing it to have been under the covers.

With the weapon thrown over shoulder, she had sat and waited for the presence to make itself known. As the light soon shined upon her friend, she goes from stern to smile in near an instant. "Skiel! Peace. Come, sit." the woman standing quickly, and ushering him to join her camp. Soon she's even digging to pull a pan and saddle blanket from her bag. "Silver hungry?" she asks, the falchion quickly set aside, as it wasn't needed, and her making a spot for the friend to sit, even offering a small barrier from the damp earth.

"Why out so late?" Yar asks, glancing back into the woods.

Skiel doesn't seem offended that Yaretzi had a weapon in hand, random strangers strolling up to a camp in the middle of nowhere tends to not beget good things. He simply stands there with a happy hum, tail swaying behind him as the plates on it gently glide against one another.

"Thank you!" he rumbles, finally stepping in once invited. The halberd, gleaming bright like his scales despite the time of day, is laid against a tree before he graciously accept the seat. Carefully. "Sssomewhat, they would not turn down any food."

"Ah," he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, the motion making a medal on his armor glint in the firelight. "Thisss one patrolsss the woodsss for Mictlan. Sssince the wightsss are less of an issue, they are making sssure the woodsss are sssafe."

Yaretzi just smiles broadly the entire time the Makari speaks. When she's done digging, she has a few eggs, some rashers of salted meat, pork most likely. It's designed to be identified, just lasts a long time. "Oh, got a neat thing to show too." the barbarian accepting his explanation at face value, and not prying further. "Yar find few good things, buy others." she explain, setting her pan to heat at the edge of the fire.

"So, is camping intruding, or is it fine to find some nights away from busy streets, and unending noises?" Yaretzi asks, poking to see if duty and business was part of this visit.

Skielstregar yanks free a few buckles and removes his weapons, setting them aside in a heap so it didn't tear the blanket he was sitting on. Legs crossed, tail wrapped around himself loosely. "Ah, thank you," he rumbles, seeing food being proffered. He shakes his head. "No no, camping isss fine. Thisss one checksss on campsss they find to make sssure people are sssafe. Sssometimes people are lossst and need help. Feel free to use Ea asss she isss."

He tilts his head to the side. "Oh? What thing did you wissssh to show?"

Yaretzi smirks in a smug manner, her concentration shifting as she lets the guise of her garments fall, her clothes shifting in a blur, and soon she's dressed different. Her mithril shirt can be seen under a leather vest, and a pair pants made of hide. "Can't change the armor, but a little thing Yar find lets her clothes change." this magical item seeming to bring great pleasure to the barbarian.

Checking the pan, Yar frowns at its progress to gain warmth. "Silly things from city, but not like anything ever imagined. Things of tales." she continues, a knife produced as she cuts strips of meat, and a hunk of salted fat, tossing that into the pan first.

"It is good to be free on Ea. Many places beyond home are claimed, even if the lands aren't used."

Skielstregar blinks at the transition, then he gives a small round of applause with a toothy smile. "That isss mossst impresssive! Thisss one can sssee it being very ussseful! Finding new clothesss isss alwaysss a hasssle."

A chuckle escapes him as he reaches behind himself to pull out his own pack under his cloak. "Yesss, thisss one hass heard of ssssuch thingsss that are fancy, silly, yet worthwhile asss well in talesss. Even thisss one findsss new, storyful thingsss even now." He pats an intricate, dark steeled warhammer that decorates the belt of his various weapons.

"Ea provides, asss Ssshaman Un'eth saysss often. Many placesss are greedy at timesss. Mossst forget the land will claim them in the end."

He pulls out a loaf of bread, breaks it in two, and offers the other half to Yaretzi.

Yaretzi nods taking that bread and setting it aside for the moment. "Thank you." Her words soft, her book taken up and flashed while waiting for fat to melt in pan. "They have them in book!" Yar muses, the Crimson Pen not the best example, but it seems this woman reads them too. At least she can read, her background could reasonably make some doubt. "Skielstregar. Warrior caste then? Could not tell, some Makari in city have no caste." she notes, the sizzling and wettening of pan with melted fat soon bringing her attention back to cooking. She lays out two thickly cut pieces of meat to warm them.

"What does Skielstregar think of sparring? Like a fight?" Yar asks for conversation, taking up the bread, and smelling of it. Not in any suspicious way, just curious of its scent. "What kind of bread? City has many, and Yar can never tell." even tasting a corner after her words.

Skielstregar blinks as he sees the book, him taking out a similiar one from his bag. "Thiss one read that too in there. Thiss one wasss... confussed by it, why sssoftskinss had sssuch things, but they never figured it out." He's not embarrsed holding it. Does he even know what he has? Or is he just that dense?

He tilts his head to the side. "Yess? Warrior Cassste, thisss one introduced themsselvesss asss such to you."

He perks up somewhat. "Oh? Thisss one enjoyss sparring. It letsss one learn much. You? Thisss one recalls you sssaying you enjoy sssuch thingsss if it hasss purpose."

The bread seems rather basic, meant to be kept in a pack. Soft though. Yeasty. Skiel shrugs. "Bread, they know not. Bought it in city before leaving."

"Part of story, book full of things to make readers lust." Yaretzi muses. "It means... tensions, and softskin complications of love." seemingly excited at the other reader, and taking a moment to see which volume he has. She's still in the first few, a new hobby found while cooped up within Alexandria's walls.

That topic changes as she sets the book atop her pack, flipping the meat, and then taking the pieces on the pieces of butcher's paper she'd had the last of the rasher on. I'ts not dirty. Just covered in salt from the cured meat she'd warmed. "Eggs?" she asks, raising a brow. "I know not if Makari eat bush-bird eggs, or not."

"Purpose means to grow and learn. Some fights are meaningless if chosen for wrong reason. Foe too weak, or too strong. What is growth then? Knots without understanding." Yar says, thinking over what Skielstregar asks. "Also, some want to fight and flirt, but flirting with.... it's complicated."

Skielstregar's book seems to be one of the smaller tales that's just simple in it's raunchiness. "It isss very complicated. It ussess many wordsss thisss one iss not familiar with. They underssstand some of it, but. Like..." he opens to a random page. No Skiel, no! Don't do it- "'grip the shaft', what sshaft, there isss no sssword mentioned," he huffs, snapping the book closed.

He bobs his head. "Eggs, yesss, we eat. Sssome thing we do not due to our hatchlingsss, but in Am'shere, you eat what you can get. If a hunt bringsss back eggs, then we're having eggsss."

His brows furrow somewhat. "Yesss, flirting and fighting isss... complicated and crossess sssome linesss. But thisss one underssstandsss. They've had to shake it out of Aelwyn to get the recordsss straight."

Yar gives a heavy nod at his talk, the words not even causing her to blush. "A man's stick, Skeilstregar." she notes, cracking eggs and letting them hit the seasoned pan. She pays close attention as they cook quick, flipping them with a smirk. "They talk of maiden holding man's.... loins? Reproductive rod?" where in the hell did she learn some of those words? Well, she was in the city for a couple of months. "I...huh. Don't know what kind of love stick Makari have. Not thought on it till now." this causing a puzzled expression, well until she's done with the eggs, snorting. "I asked some what buxom was. Yar is apparently so." shrugging with a grin. Nothing out of the ordinary for the conversation here,

one egg tossed onto the paper, half-fried with a gooey yolk. The other is left in the pan. A bit of meat is tossed back in, and she seems to be set to use it as a plate, setting it before the Makari, choosing to eat hers off the wax paper. "Not much, but food is... food. Needed regardless."

Skielstregar's gaze slowly goes up. "A man's stick..."

. .. ...

Ding! Icicles form on his cheeks. "O-Oh. OH." There's a >thud< as the book thunks against his snout. Some ice breaks off and melts onto the ground underneath him. "... thisss one completely underssstandsss thiss book now after reading it almossst five timesss," he murmurs.

The flustered man shakes his head off. "Uh... it'sss not much different," he offers in explanation about sticks. There's a look over Yar, then a shrug. "Apparently. Makari do not have sssuch thingsss, we focusss more on ssscale colorsss and tailsss."

A blink, then a smile. "Thank you, Godclaw, for the meal," he says warmly before reaching forward to jab a talon through meat and egg. Like a small kebab, he nibbles on it with a happy rumble in his chest. "Isss good."

Yaretzi smiles wide, her amusement a heft and short laugh. "Do not feel bad. Not silly question, it was silly book." taking a bite of egg and meat, following it with bread. Bad choice. She chews, mouth dry after a moment from the salted meats, looking to get her waterskin from wherever she'd placed it.

"Where I put drink?" Yar spitting crumbs from mouth as she speaks and digs through her bag. "Skiel thirsty?" hospitality a thing, but not a focus.

As she finds it, she pops the top, which is tied to the skin so it can't be lost. She takes a few swigs, and offers it to the guest. "Friends share, yes? In Am'shere, not all hunts go well. Food shared, and all worked towards better days." letting the comment of Makari organs go for now, but the answer did make her smirk.

"It isss sssilly book," Skiel murmbles, polishing off the talon-bob easily. A hand takes the drink, but instead he puts a thumb over the top of it and gently blows across it. A plume of froze air wafts over it, frost filming the skin before he stops, shakes it, and hands it back. It's got ice floating around the inside of it now. "Not thirsssty, but thank you for the offer. Cooled it off to help ward the hot day."

He nods once, putting his half of the bread away for later. "Yesss. Sssame in Am'shere, and in Mictlan. Food is ssshared. Take what isss needed, give what you can. Thisss one tendsss to collect firewood. They have sssome magicsss to be able to fell larger treesss that need to be felled."

He rolls his shoulders. "Sssoo... why isss flirting complicated with you, Godclaw?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Kor's path means to be victorious in all forms of battle, even love. To earn a Claw's approval, one must best them. Women and men fight, and winners choose who they marry." her tribe having a warrior's way, in some regards, tribal, but stable. "Like carnival of skill, flashing what makes one strong to lure mates to fight. Just... some mates not wanted, and advances hard to explain. Yar is not willy-nilly in love. Yar has no time for games, life harsh enough without love being a game." her answer coming after she finishes her meal.

"Why does Skielstregar ask? Fight with Aelwyn?" Yar being curious.

Skiel makes an 'ah' sound as he leans back, the trunk of his tail supporting his weight while his arms were crossed. "Thisss one underssstandsss. It isss not hard to explain. You jussst do not have time or energy to fool about. They know sssome folksss like that."

He shakes his head, a hand reaching up to idly trace the outline of the medal on his armor with a talon. "Not a fight. Thisss one wasss just curious, you mentioned it back in the Tarrace. Then earlier. He wasss..."

The makari's tail slides over to be in his lap, and he idly hugs it, tail-tip going >fwip fwip fwip< on his chin. "Hmmm. How explain. Thisss one hass been in sssituation where they had multiple people wanting them to be their mate. Thisss one isss not... the sharpessst with sssuch things, ssso they ended up being caught in a triangle." He taps the book, referencing triangles in there. See! It is useful! "Thisss one wasssn't ssssure if he wasss flirting with thisss one, so thiss one had to make it clear they were not looking for any kind of 'fun'. They already have a mate, and they are loyal to her."

Yaretzi nods to Skeilstregar, looking up as she packs up the tools she used, tossing a hand full of salt into her pan to help with cleaning it later. "Yes, Yaretzi does not look for a night, but a life. She does not wish to hurt feelings, but to win Yar's affection will be more than silly words, and desire to tease." her words coming with a huff of breath, the air holding the same tension as her shoulders for a moment. "Skeilstregar has the right of it, avoid triangles, avoid needless dances of love. Keep what is strong, and hold to it dearly." his answer to that mess seeming to cause her to ease a bit in her seat. "Aelwyn nice man, but barking up wrong tree for fun. Yaretzi isn't fun. Yar is work."

Skielstregar hums, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates in his chest. "There wasss a point where thisss one thought they would have to give up on all of that, due to sssome thingssss there were and are, but have learned to live with it. While they would not have minded 'fun', thisss one did not have the self confidence for it. And still doesn't at times. But Vaera, their mate, helpsss immensely," he freely admits, offering his perspective in solidarity.

A sigh leaves him. "... Aelwyn isss nice. But yesss. Thisss one thinksss he isss going to bark up the wrong treesss. Then learn a valuable lessson from it."

"Tell me, Skiel. Why is this one different? Does this involve the cold?" Yaretzi not knowing his story, but seeing enough to at least know it isn't normal. She's just not one to focus on such things when Skiel has proven to be friend and kind over time.

"What happened, and tell me of Vaera." The barbarian asks, taking a twig and stoking fire once the camp is back to being settled, and the cleaning left for later. "Mate is helpless?"

Skielstregar shakes his head. "Thisss one iss cold because they are sssilver scale. Silver dragon blood runsss in their veinsss. It isss stronger in thisss one, so much so they can breath ice if need be," he elaborates. "But perhapsss some other things..."

A sigh leaves him. His dead gaze softens. "No, mate isss not helpless. Vaera helpsss ssso much. Their love and warmth makesss thisss one feel alive."

Dead silvers lift to Yaretzi. Holds a pause. "Thisss one hasss died before," he admits. "Under... stressful, terrible circumstancesss. What know you of the Forgotten? From your knowledge of home, Am'shere?"

"Just tales of twisted claws, and magics. Relentless, dangerous, and nightmares for children." Yaretzi says, brow raising at the discussion and tale. She smiles as he speaks of Vaera, but the other parts draw more concern. "Not many have luxury of returning when lost in Am'shere. This one lucky." her observation said sincerely, but she motions with him to go on with his tale.

Skielstregar hums warmly at the smile. "Vaera. A redssscale. Lanky, tall. Hasss a metal leg and one of thossse riflesss of magic."

But then, his head drops a tinge. "Yesss. Thisss one iss lucky. Charn. They..."

He looks up to the darkening sky, as if the stars would spill the tale for him. But instead he finds solace in their glimmer as he continues. "They take makari ssslavesss. Make usss into Forgotten. Thisss one wasss no so lucky on that. To have one'sss mind twissed like that. A hunger that isss... terrifyingly powerful. They were ussed asss fodder. And died jussst as quickly as they were unleassshed." A hand rests over his breastplate, talon tracing where his heart is.

"The memoriesss are... scattered. Probably lossst, of that time. But they remember dying. Angry. Furious. Then nothing. Then waking up again. In pain. Confused. A shell. Stuck like this-" he gestures to his fangs and long talons, dead eyes. "-covered in this-" a gestures to the tarnished bronze scales on his cloak. "Something brought them back. Thisss one isss... not really alive completely. Ssssomewhat halfway. Thiss one can turn back into that snarling beassst, but they have the reigns now."

"When they mess with life, it is miracle any of Skielstregar remain. Yar knows not what he lost, but appearance mans little in Am'shere. Allies are found in struggle and battle. In the end all fight the same fights if survival is the war we wage. Survival to be free, grow strong, and keep lands fertile and untainted." her tone serious, looking away as she kicks out her legs, elbows resting on her knees.

"Yar is an idiot, Skiels. Many got put in danger because she liked to test, and find limits. Strong enough to start danger, but not big enough to end it. Makari saved me, but.... many suffered needlessly." giving a reason to her sojourn. "Come to seek meaning, and purpose of strength. And to understand why the blood of tigers run so wild in veins. Kor is laughing at his creation. Always."

A smile is flashed, shrugging in general about their shared tales. "I know not what was faced. Story is sad, but the ending warming. Yar is not glad it happened, but humbled that Skiel was met because of it."

Skielstregar can't help but give a quiet little laugh, small gouts of frozen air rolling forth from his nose. "It isss a miracle thisss one even wasss in one piece. Appearance doesss mean little, but appearance also beliesss danger. Thisss one'ss mate almost killed them on multiple occasionsss in fact because of it," he smiles despite this. But then sighs softly, listening to Yare closely.

"The purpossse of strength..." he echoes. "That, in of itssself, isss ssstrength. While people sssuffered, their pain meansss nothing if you did not step back to realize this."

His visage lifts to a happy sort of squint. "What was faced was terrible, and they wish it upon no one. But, having sssaid that. Thisss one is glad they have met you. To have a different perspective of home feels nice."

He's pensive for a moment. Then, he queries. "Thisss one had to learn, over time, how to quell their own miasma of blood. Of bridled frustration. The blood of tigersss runsss in your veinsss. When you feel it. What isss your firssst inssstinct?"

"Yar can tell, Skiels." Yaretzi speaking of the terrible parts of the story, a nod given, the woman looking to the flames in thought.

"Yar might of attacked you too... if you'd been known, but changed. It must of been scary thing." Puzzling out that experience, and shuddering as s he doesn't seem to like those thoughts, but at least a laugh escapes her lips. "Yar has known only normal life. Big lizard on a small rock. Many bigger lizards and rocks, but Yar wanted to spread herself, and not be cramped." frowning for a moment. "Limits need be reached, the fire to fight consuming.... and so home needed be left behind."

"When the flame has peaked and begins to fade, years in the jungles this one will wish to see." Yaretzi reasons, sharing her perceptions on her path. "Yaretzi has no deep ties. Just to Kor."

Skielstregar chuckles at the notion of being attacked, a fact that he can look back and find amusement over instead of worry. "Thiss one would have not blamed you."

He leans forward, elbows on knees. "Fire to fight," he hums, talons drumming against one of his fangs. "And when your time isss up, you wisssh to go back to the junglesss to fuel ssome othersss' flame. Be it returning to Ea or whatever else."

He's thinking. Then. "You seek meaning, and purpose of strength. Being around other lizards-" this makes him laugh "-helps one find sssuch purpose and meaning. Kor saysss the purpossse is being the bessst and progesssing. Dragonfather, Daeusss, ssaysss strength is meant to cultivate and protect the weak so they can grow. Angoron says the strong should lead the weak, and in turn, protect them. Many purpossess for strength."

A cold digit reaches out, and pokes Yaretzi on the shoulder. "But it isss up to you to find what callsss to you bessst. Kor may be your guide. But what findsss the path, and ansssweresss, is your heart."

"Yar knows better, but those were smooth words. Skiels is not a simple thing, and Yar appreciates this." The woman's smile returning to sit broad on her face. "Meaning is a hard thing. War is easily waged when it is part of life. When on tries to find meaning to it outside survival... it gets.. complex. Hard to understand. Yar wants to know what this war is about, and find the foe she must be prepared to face, even if it never comes."

His poke was met with a stern nod, his point driven home as she raises a hand to pat his before it's withdrawn. "Your mate is lucky. You are kind, but to be so. Not to win hearts. That kindness lasts."

Skielstregar rubs his neck. "Thisss one isss a sssimple man, but hass many thingsss to them," he chuckles, tail-tip doing that >fwip fwip fwip< again against his chin. "Sssometimesss war is dealt with wordsss. Or a ssstern glare. Or a careful touch. Some ssstregnthsss lay in never lifting a finger. It isss not good to fight a war without ever asking why you are fighting. It isss complex thing to figure out. And for thisss one, they have it is isss helping others."

The fire crackles, and the cold hand is patted. A dusting of frost coats his cheeks as he rumbles a chuckle in his chest. "Thank you. Thisss one likesss being kind. They do not like enjoy getting angry. Or ssswindling, or else."

There's the sound of leaves shifting faintly beside Skiel, and he looks over. His halberd is... gone. A black drop of liquid splashes atop his head, and he looks up.

The weapon is in a tree branch above. Gleaming the starry night in an almost perfect reflection. "... would you get down from there, please?" he grumbles, huffing and crossing his arms.

GAME: Yaretzi rolls perception: (5)+8: 13

With a warmth and pleasant atmoshphere Yaretzi had looked away to get another drink form her waterskin, looking back only to realize that something strange has happened. She's left with a suspicious glance, but not in a malicious way. It's clear she'd like an explanation, but she doesn't seem angry, or too concerned. "Did one toss it? Did... I didn't see." she thinks he'd done some trick or something while her attention was away. She had been swimming in thoughts about purpose, and strength. Damnit.

"You talk to blade as if it's alive." This being her bold observation.

Skielstregar shakes his head. "No, thiss one did not throw it. Like thisss one explained before, it jusssst sssometimes... doesss that." A little sigh leaves him. "Aelwyn sssaid that a blade isss extensssion of oness's body. Thisss one agreeesss. And they have been treating it sssomewhat asss such."

He looks up again. A hand reaches up towards it. "Hither, please?" he asks, not expecting much to come from it.

The silver gleam on the weapon clouds over as the weapon ebbs a black miasma. It begins to... melt. Dripping down into a brackish ink in a puddle beside him. "What."

The weapon is gone from the branch, and the puddle reforms into the shape of the halberd from before. Upright. Then slooowly falls over to land right into Skiel's hand. He looks from weapon, to Yare. To weapon. Back to Yare. "... thisss one isss confusion."

"Confusion? It seems to show off. Flaunt and taunt itself." Yaretzi says with a shrug, standing and dusting her hide leggings. "Skiels, you seemed excited at sparring. Would you think it not be the same for blade? It is stretching, and showing you it is ready for fight." she asks with a grin, seeming to understand some about the weapon, but not all. "Let's do so. Show each other strength, and grow. We shall do so soon. It will be good for both. Work out kinds and muscles softened by walls and hiding."

And even here, Skiel is learning more from this, with Yaretzi's insight, the dead eyes of the makari widen. Holding the polearm in hand with a newfound perspective and appreciation. "It isss.... showing off?"

His head is down, the flat of the axehead reflecting shiny silver scales in an almost infinite mirror. Talons gently waft across the etched runes. "You are... you are wissse, Godclaw."

He rises to his taloned feet to his full height, looming with the weapon in hand. Skiel squares his shoulders. The metal glints the firelight. Along with the silvery breastplate. The silver scales. "Thiss one thinkss that isss a splendid idea," he rumbles with joy. His head turns to the weapon. A singular drop of black ichor falls from the blade. "What do you think..."

A pause. Searching. Dead eyes reflected back at him, the glimmer in the steel giving a life to them.

"... Malefic?"

-End Scene-