That's Althea Wrote

"...you come back with that!" An elder woman in Althean's cloth stands on the stairs of that temple. The smell of bread--freshly baked and from the great Hearth, surrounds it like a lover's aura. And someone--a giant lizard, bounds away, a loaf of bread in his mouth.

He comes to a halt, and stands, and waves the 'spoils' overhead. "One could not ressist! The bread holdss your charm! I wass helpless againsst it!" he calls out, the halting speech for a moment...paused. One could see a smile there. One could, if one looked past the rigid scales.

"Is that how it is?" the priest asks. She scowls, but one might see the smile there, too. "Is it? I spend my hard work, back-breaking work, mind, slaving over that bread..."

"And you ssee I am rendered helpless! A Daeussite may sslay demonss--but he iss powerless before the powerss of Althea!"

"..."

Azog is walking pat the Althean Temple when he sees this strange encounter. He pauses to try and figure out what's going on. Alexandria has an interesting street theater scene where people like to one another for mutual amusement. Perhaps that's what this is. He will watch, Puzzled.

Seldan and Malik approach the Temple District, chatting amiably. The former is clad in full adventuring gear, armor and all, pack slung over one shoulder, his clothing clean but not exactly neat, in the way of clothing that has been cleaned by spells rather than a laundress. They do not yet appear to have noticed the tableau in the plaza.

Azog is walking pat the Althean Temple when he sees this strange encounter. He pauses to try and figure out what's going on. Alexandria has an interesting street theater scene where people lie to one another for mutual amusement. Perhaps that's what this is. He will watch, Puzzled. (fixed)

Malik walks easily beside Seldan, a goofy grin on his face. "Yeah, I don't know what I thought of her," he tells Seldan. "I mean, the wagon was interesting, but I'm not sure that I trust any of that, you know? It's a little outside of my wheelhouse. Think I'll stick with what I know. People already get mad when things don't go as expected, try and minimize that as best as possible." He looks up, watching the exhcange between Svarshan and the priestess, that grin growing wider. "Wonder what that's all about," he asks of his companion, nodding in their direction. "I don't think I could eat any more if you paid me, no matter how good it smells."

He squints, and looks at her. "Well in theory you could. But it takes years of training and effort. And you'd need the ability to use magic. I see what gloves you have. You'd have to replace those with gloves that let you..."

"Mage Hand? I've been able do that for a long time." She then demonstrates by bringing a mage hand into being, taking a rock, and bringing it to him.

Surprised, the elf takes the rock, and stares at it. "I see. Can you cast more magic besides? There is a course of training the organization could bring you into, but you need more than just apprentice's parlor tricks."

"I can fireball."

"...Becausse it iff delifious!" the sith-makar responds warmly, to the LOOK he is getting. He half-shoves the warmed, delicious loaf into his maw, and chews noisomly. This deepens the scowl. Of course it does.

"...I'm going to," cough, "have you mopping the floor for this," the priest responds. Was the cough a laugh? The aged priestess may never let on.

"I ffffooo!" he says, around the bread, and sets off. A gesture of the heavy tail. Eyes light, today. Eyes light and bright. "I fill fee fere tomorrow morfing!" And Svarshan totally will. He takes a few steps back, and then offers another thump of the tail, that sith-makar greeting, to Azog. "Azog! Peaff to your nefft!"

You say, "oh yeahposebreaks are amazing"

Azog looks up. That -is- Svarshan. He wasn't sure before. It's hard to tell when you're stealing bread from Altheans. "Peace to your nest," he replies to Svarshan. "And bread, too, if you're running low," he offers. "Maybe some steaks and chops to your nest, and you can have a feast."

Seldan says, "I had best not eat any more, either," Seldan agrees. "She is all right, and the cloak I purchased from her has served me well, but I understand. She seems one of the saner artificers." That is said with a wince and a glance down at his right calf, and he pauses as he spots the Sunlord-lizard from the other day in the square, watching him intently Is he...? "Still, there are more than a few that are not. Her gifts are better controlled and less likely to harm unintentionally.""

"I had best not eat any more, either," Seldan agrees. "She is all right, and the cloak I purchased from her has served me well, but I understand. She seems one of the saner artificers." That is said with a wince and a glance down at his right calf, and he pauses as he spots the Sunlord-lizard from the other day in the square, watching him intently Is he...? "Still, there are more than a few that are not. Her gifts are better controlled and less likely to harm unintentionally."a

It almost looks like Malik's good mood might even hold this time, what with the entertaining display before them -- until he spots Erendriel. That seems to trigger a different reaction. The book at his side gets quickly put into a satchel that he's carrying -- followed quickly by a few strips of paper he apparently has hidden in a vest pocket. A moment's thought, and even that is followed by the bottles on his belt getting dumped into the bag, the green cloak he's wearing wrapped protectively around it all. "If you have anything flammable," he tells the paladin, "I suggest you put it away." His tone does not suggest much in the way of amusement. He holds out the bag to Seldan. You know, just in case he can think of a few things.

So that leaves Erendriel to look around, and take in what's going on around her. Bread. Paladin. An unhappy mage. She starts waving to everyone,a nd well, approaches Seldan and Malik. "Hello!"

"The Altheans have made bread!" The Altheans always make bread. "If you hurry, warrior, you might find ssome. Left," the reptilian says, the tones as warm as cheerful as the Hearth, itself. His eyes are bright, today. Bright and ALIVE and happy. "Peasse to you, Azog. Thossse ssound good. They--"

"Don't give him any ideas, lizard!" the elderly priestess says. She is smiling, now, as she turns back towards the temple. Slowly. One might as well hear the bones creaking.

The reptilian tilts his head to the side. Then turns back towards the staircase. There are...tropes, in the world. Tropes. Myrrish theatre is full of them: the dashing knight who slays the dragon. The hapless prince who needs rescued as he faints from his manly steed. ...one only needs visit the local theatre to see them. Or the streets, with performers. Svarshan straightens. "Great lady! Its baked brilliansse is a tesstament to the love in your heart, your sshining gra--!"

"TWO days, mopping. Ser Svarshan. You could at least quote Ser Darvain correctly!" she calls back, and the reptile laughs.

Outright laughs, that hissing teakettle sound particular to the sith-makar. He looks to Azog. And, then spots Seldan and Malik--two he'd spoken with, earlier. And the one who'd...been frowning at the ground when he'd seen her? "Peasse to your nessts," he says warmly. "One would offer you bread--but. There iss penance to consider."

Azog adds, belatedly, "And, peas to your nest also. And broccoli. And whatever other vegetables you like." He has a hard time letting go of ideas. There seems to be something going on, but he's not clear on just what.

"I have nothing to fear from her, unless I am a rock. Hello Erendriel, " Seldan shakes his head at the bag; all of his stuff is in his pack, anyway. His relaxed attitude becomes the polite and proper self he more often shows the world; even his posture changes, becoming straighter. "And on yours. I have only just eaten, thank you ... but I would ask of you something."

Malik offers a shrugged shoulder. "Suit yourself," he tells the other man, the bag disappearing back under the cloak as she approaches. The comment about being a rock draws a confused glance, but he at least offers a polite smile. "Nice to see you again," he greets Erendriel. But almost as quickly as he diverts her attention to her, he's doing the same for the Orcish man and the approaching Sith, offering both polite nods, even as that smile returns a bit with the priestesses' words. "I like her."

Hun'rar comes walking out of the temple of Gilead, dressed in full battle plate with sword at the hip and shield slung over a shoulder. His helmet rests in the crook of his arm. When he spots Svarshan he puts his helmet on and marches at the Sith with a raised finger. "YOU! What in tarnation do you think your up to?!" he calls out in his most commanding voice until he standing chest to chest with the larger paladin. "Causing trouble?!"

"Penance," the reptilian responds warmly, happily as he follows the look towards the departed Althean priestess. "Penance and two evenings. Helping the Altheanss. One could not assk for more." The tail moves slowly, a slow wave that isn't sure it wishes to go to shore just yet.

Svarshan tilts his head then, and casts a sidelong look to Azog. Then, a look to the newcomer, who is headed into the Square. "Warrior," he says. And he then straightens, and casts another look to Azog, as though conveying something. SOMETHING. And the sith-makar firms his shoulders. "Pardon thiss one. There iss a friend-of-casste approaching."

He turns to face Hun'rar more fully. By body language at least, fully leaving the conversation between Malik, Seldan, and Eren. He hadn't really joined it--well. He had said hello. That was important, wasn't it? But right now--right now, someone is calling him out on the Square.

Azog shushes Hun'rar, "Nono. this is the street theater," he explains incorrectly. "They are lying and making false claims for the purpose of entertainment." Which shows simultanoeusly how little Azog understands the current situation and Alexabdria in general. He huhs as Svarshan excues himself. But Azog is only more lost. "Is that how theater works?" he wonders aloud.

Seldan blinks as Svarshan turns away, but accepts it without comment, watching the other group before answering Erendriel and Malik. "Crossing the Altheans is not something I would choose to do. Forgive me Erendriel, I spent much of yesterday on a Guild job. Do you refer to the research?"

Malik watches the exchange between the various warriors, a curious look in his eyes. But not -too- closely. It's clearly not for him, after all. So he turns his attention back to Erendriel and Seldan. The comment from Erendriel causes him to raise an eyebrow, looking both surprised and confused. "Er... rocks?" It's like he's having a hard time processing that. "And that -- works?" The look in his eyes says that he's clearly imagining some sort of rocky golem, and having trouble imagining how fire might help. But thankfully, Erendriel's question snaps him out of it, casting a curious glance to Seldan. "Oh right. Did you ever find that translator?"

Hun'rar turns his head to Azog "Theater? This is a matter of honor and this lizard has disgraced himself through weakness and cowardess!" he says super seriously, pausing only to give rest of the group a cheerful "Hello!" before turning back to Svar, jumping up and wrapping his arm around Svar's neck in a chokehold and trying to wrestler him down to the ground. "Surrender!"

Kaydin had brought an offering of meat to the temple of Gilead and was on his way back to the forest before he sees a friend. He makes his way over to Svarshan and smiles. "Getting into trouble? Isnt that against your faith?" He asks curiously of the sith makar. He then looks around at the gathering in the district and turns his attention back to the reptile.

KAydin watches hun'rar wrestle the man to the ground and pulls off his bow and draws an arrow. "Please let him go? He is a dear friend of mine." He says as he begins to pull the arrow back.

Seldan closes his eyes, his head lowering at that, a lock of hair tumbling into his eyes. He absently pushes it back. "I know what I need to know, Erendriel. It is enough. Yes, Erendriel was able to translate it for me, and for that I thank both of you. But ... the more I learn of my ancestors, the less I wish to shame myself. I am sure you understand."

Malik takes a quick step back as Erendriel fires off a spell, putting an arm in front of Seldan like he's going to shield him from something. "What in the -Abyss-!" he practically shouts. Right before he notices the two wrestling warriors, and the one with the newly drawn bow. His eyes widen in a very clear 'is everyone here insane' sort of look, glancing over at Seldan. It takes a second to register, but he eventually speaks. "The next time I say something awkward?" He waves a hand at the whole scene unfolding. "Remember -this-." Though Seldan's answer causes him to frown a bit more deeply, brow furrowing. Fortunately, he doesn't say anything about that.

"..." Svarshan looks to Azog. Really looks to him, and then looks to Hun'rar. "It can--" and then Hun'rar is grabbing him, and what does another warrior do but grab back? Svarshan drops his shoulder, and with his other arm grabs the shoulders of the other warrior. He pulls towards himself, to use Hun'rar's own momentum to force the other to the earth, except things get--

--wait.

God.

God NO!

He's being noogied. Hun'rar's knuckles collide with his skull, and the warrior sith stares in surprise. NOOGIES!

"Hurruk--!" Then, "You will--not get--away--with this--!" he says, voice tight. And desperately waves Kaydin off with the fingers of one hand. If he can get his fingers free. Hun'rar's gotten damn good, lately!

Azog ohs as he finally understands, "Oh! I did not realize you were part of the theater," he says to Hun'rar. He is watching with rapt attention, to catch each little nuance. "This is interesting. I am still not clear on some details, but I think I am learning," he explains.

Kaydin gently eases the arrow back along the bow and puts it back in his quiver when it is clear the sith makar isnt any real danger. He puts the bow back over his shoulder and watches the two beings interact. He then looks to Azog and shrugs. "Paladins will be paladins?" He asks as he shrugs.

Hun'rar struggles to deliver death noogies to the Sith. "This... warrior...caste...needs...a...lesson..." he says through gritting teeth as his grip slowly begins to give on the larger paladin. "Not to worry, Svar is a pushover. " he says to the others with a grin even as he quickly struggles just to hold on.

Seldan looks up, his expression darkening at the shooting of fire on the ground - and Malik has an arm out in front of him? "It is not a small thing if anyone is injured," he warns Erendriel, but that is all he says on the matter. He'd been carefully ignoring the wrestling match going on Over There(tm), it doesn't involve or concern him, but now he looks over. "I think them friends. Our interference would not be welcome. For the other ... I wll not do so, and so it is no concern." He smiles.

Malik's eyes narrow at the use of the spell, and the casual disregard for it. "You used potentially deadly magic for -- what? To shoot a -rock-?" He gestures to the thing on the ground, then to all the people standing around. "What would have happened if you'd missed? Or the spell had gone out of control?" Malik might not always think about practical considerations of safety, but it seems that on this point, at least, he's passionately opposed. "Today, it was the rocks. Yesterday, you nearly blew up the docks! You destroyed thousands of gold worth of knowledge, and you could have gotten someone killed! What is -wrong- with you!?" He balls his fists tightly inside that cloak, setting his jaw tightly.

Well, the fire draws some attention. Some of the various temple guards look Erendriel's way, and mutter. "Mages," one of them says, as though that explains EVERYTHING...and that earns a sharp look from another guard in Elunan regalia.

The two of them stare at one another, a moment. This isn't awkward. Totally not.

Meanwhile, Svarshan shoves his elbow inside the crook of the other's, and hits, forcing the man away and down, to hit the cobblestones. He goes with the other-warrior though, to ease the blow, and the fall. He hits the earth, himself, with a loud clang, and thunder.

"Pusshover!" Svarshan says, hissing laughter, from the spot on the cobbles. He relaxes his body language, though, relaxes it. No need to draw more arrows, or have the guards notice them, too. When he can, he will sit up, though from the laughter, that may take a while.

Azog watches Hun'rar choke out Svarshan with a critical eye. "Well played," he says, as Svarshan is subjected to a savage ... noogie-ing. Then they both fall over. "Nono," he says, "you have to get a room for that part, I am told." Azog, always the outsider. City ways are so strange.

Kaydin looks to MAlik and he begins to walk over towards the others. "Is it difficult to learn magic?" He asks curiously as he watches the argument. "Maybe she is practicing control?

Hun'rar gathers himself up, still kneeling on the cobblestones and laughing, taking his helmet off so he can breathe better "I got you good that time!"He says as he gets his breathing under control. "Magic? So long as nobody gets hurt." he offers as a suggestion. He just eyes Azog. "Would think your people would be all about a friendly test of strength. Challenges are how you grow stronger." he says rising to his feet.

"I tell her that and I hate her and speak ill of her." Seldan steps between the two of them, jaw set. "Enough. I gave my word that I would not chide you on the small things, and I shall stand by that word. But, it is a crowded place. If you miss and hurt someone, that will not be a small thing. Perhaps the Festival Grounds will serve you as a practice arena, if it is practice you seek, and there is no shame in doing so."

"Ssa...saaa. We sshould go hunting, tom--" Mrmmm. "--one iss mopping," Svarshan says, suddenly the Saddest Lizard on Ea. "--perhapss that evening?"

And then he lets go a breath, a sigh--one mixed with smoke and ash that escapes from his muzzle--as he flops onto his back. Then casts a look to Azog. He points to his own eyes, and then to Azog. "Thiss one ssaw Ssandy do that, onsse," he says. And then... "The warrior raisses a good point. Do the oruch do their tessts of sstrength. Differently?" he asks.

He seems content to lie there for the moment. The Sun is beating down overhead. So perfect. Never mind they're in a busy courtyard. Maybe Am'sheri are just like that. Maybe. ...and maybe...he looks over to Erendriel, and Malik, and Seldan. And Kaydin. He says nothing, then, though glances back to Hun'rar.

Azog ehs to Hun'rar, and asks, "That was a challege? I see, I misunderstood. This city has strange ways and I do not understand most of them," he admits. "I had thought it was related to Svarshan and the cakes lady," he explains, wincing at Svarshan's mentio of catching Sandy in flagrante. That's just a horrible thought. "In my tribe we do tests differently, yes," he agrees. "Not -too- differently. And it varies from person to person and tribe to tribe." Because chaotic.

Malik watches as Seldan steps between them. Which is probably a good thing, because he looks like he might be ready to lose his temper in a much bigger way. But someone coming between them and saying something seems to get him to back down a bit. "I should go," he tells Seldan. "Before I make even more of an ass of myself." He reaches into his bag, handing the paladin a piece of paper. "Where I'm staying," he explains. "If you need to find me for something. It was good seeing you again. I'm glad -- things went well this morning." With that, he gives everyone gathered a somber nod, then turns on his heel, heading toward the festival grounds at practically a jog.

Kaydin makes his way back to azog and svarshan and he looks to Azog. "I hear the oruch value survival. I grew up in the wildernesses outside the city. My mother is one of the many druids of the forest. hunting and fishing are my favorite past times. The city has strange ways, I agree. Maybe we can hunt together, friend."

Svarshan watches the man leave, and jog down the way. "Perhapss, hunter. One sseeks a particular kind of. Prey." Svarshan stays where he is, having gone quieter, now. One could read--the tension along the shoulders, faintly, given the scales. A look to Seldan. "One the other paladin may be. Interessted in. There are three. Of uss. Here," he says, warm and cheerful. He holds up three claws. The other arm is underneath, and supports his head.

Azog eyes Kaydin skeptically, mainly because the street theater thing has him confused. He does value survival, tough, and he does hunt outside the city, so he will offer Kaydin a tentative nod of agreement. Svarshan gets a thoroughly confused look. But that's probably a paladin thing.

Hun'rar grins to the others "Well thanks for the diversion and I hope everyone else has a great day." he says vowing his head "Hope Svarshan didn't cause touch trouble. I have books to pick up from the Arcanist Society." he offers as explanation before backing out of the group.

Seldan looks after Malik as he leaves, automatically taking the piece of paper and examining it closely. He nods, once he has read it, and tucks it into his bag. "Thank you," he says after the man's back then turns around and back to Erendriel. "I have not found so. Perhaps you would explain?"

Svarshan looks to Azog, his own eyes light. Then, back to the softskin pair. "Thiss one had not paid. Attention. One'ss apologies. I do not often ssee warrior-friend," he says. Still, he leans back against his arm, and looks overhead. "The Ssun is good," he says. And it is--in a way. It beats down overhead. Not as hot as the summar, but heading well into fall.

Azog nods to Svarshan. "The street theater was ... definitely ... present," he says awkwardly after a pause. Azog's no good at faking sincerity, and he can't even make up fibs to be nice to people. It's a curse.

"The sun is good. I just think it is a shame you are stuck here moping, Svarshan." Kaydin says as he picks up the mop and swings it around like one would a bo staff.

Azog at this point just wanders off, confused.

"Ssa. Its warmth makes this one miss. Cihuaa." Sadness. The Saddest Sadness courses over the sith-makar's face. Sadness so stark it may as well be shouted from the rooftops. He rolls to a sit, then, and looks to Kaydin and Azog, and then to Erendriel and Seldan. "Perhapss...if words from thiss old. Sscarleg mean much. Do not sspend your time in anger. ...and one sshould go and help the Altheanss, you are. Right," he says to Kaydin. The roll to a sit turns to a roll to a stand. "You are. Right."