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It's a beautiful day, and that would seem less anomalous if not for the fact that the market is surprisingly empty this day. Maybe no one really expected the fair weather. Perhaps some weather-mage predicted rain later. Either way, the streets are open and only a few people populate them this morning aside from the usual owners of various establishments in the market district. All in all, it seems to be shaping up to be a particularly pleasant day.

It was morning, which means various stalls were still stocking up for the day. Plenty of things were needed for the day ahead - tools, ingredients, freshly baked bread - and so, a ruddy sith-makar was usually there to help.

The local bakery's bread had a delicious smell. It looked soft, fluffy and something that had just right amount of crisp to the surface to be enjoyable to bite into. That is how it looked, regardless, as Aelwyn was seated upon a crate, chewing on one of the breads he was supposed to be ferrying, whilst just lazily watching the quiet market to slowly pick up life. His red ribboned glaive was leant between his legs.

Critias sits behind a hand-cart. It's a rough and rickety and somewhat threadbare contraption, showing signs of weathering from being normally outdoors - and in the woods judging by the heavy canvas cover and thick tree branches used to prop it up over the cart. Normally such makeshift affairs are relegated to the outskirts of the market, or even the more chaotic Goblintown. But today with the market so much emptier than usual, there was no need to shoo it off.

Critias sits behind the cart, along with a merchant dressed in thick furs with patterns of stains and weathering that somehow seem to match that of the cart itself. The two chat and occasionally trade places, although Critias is also working on something behind the small piles of furs and bedrolls and and other outdoor gear.

Harkashan has been more active for a little bit in the Alexandria region. The Sith-makar's presence is of course never guaranteed, with the troubles going on all around the continent... and off of it... but today, he is here. 

Stepping through the market, holding a bag against his chest - one arm supporting it - containing a bunch of meats and the likes. His other hand holding the remainder of a bone he's finishing chewing and biting apart. Spotting Aelwyn soon-after, he rumbles out a greeting, raising his bone-holding-hand up. "Peace upon your nest, Dragoon." He rumbles to the ruddy one while approaching.

Spotting Critias as he gets closer to Aelwyn, the Gobbo gets a hefty nod from the Sith-makar as well in greeting. He's not as familiar with that one, but he recognizes Critias.

Sometimes, it feels like there are relatively few days where the weather is just pleasant. So, Rune seems to be spending her time in the market, moving from various plant and flower stalls in a far too common quest for blue-shaded flowers which she could use for hair dye. At the moment, she has a basket dangling from one arm where a number of flowers have already been purchased. 

Her eyes are naturally drawn to the Makari, and then further to Critias. As it is still too warm for furs, she takes up the company of the other two more easily. "The bread good today?" She asks, head slightly tilted.

A small figure dressed in red makes their way through the marketplace. A slender, and very short individual with a half-mask covering their features. Unsurprisingly the mask gets a few askance glances from shopkeepers who are wary of their wares being stolen, but the little figure only pleasantly waves and makes their way through the market.

Until Aelwyn is spotted. For a moment the figure - their half mask feathered over the eyes and along the forehead - suggesting the shape of a phoenix, stops. Then, with a small smile playing out over their lips the figure makes way toward the small sith.

Within a few moments the figure is slipping around Harkashan's larger one and offering a wide grin to Aelwyn. "Yes. Peace on your nest Dancing Dragon."

Aelwyn bows his head towards Harkashan. "Lava," He greets. "Nest in peace." He rumbles in amusement. "Those scales were one which this one was not expecting to see in these streets today." Another chunk of the bread is taken as Rune strays closer. "Twin, looking flower." He greets, and then falls into quiet dilemma. A moment later, he fetches another piece of bread from the bag and offers it to Harkashan. "Lava, this one will trade one for a stick of meat, if Lava tells Twin how good the bread is." He flashes his teeth.

The hand holding the piece of bread suddenly pauses, and the oh so well crusted piece of delicious falls to the ground. Aelwyn twists his head - and for a flash, no good emotion flashes on his face - but then his slit pupils focus.

Slowly, Aelwyn stretches around his Glaive... and then he attempts to scoop up the newcomer's head in his hand. "Hell!" He grins widely and with excitement. "What are these feathers doing here?"

Critias is one of those that can't keep from glancing at the half-masked figure. One of the benefits of helping with a cart is that he has an easy built-in excuse for watching people as they move by, whether to hawk good or to take the mind off a monotonous bit of crafting. A movement next to him draws a glance that way. The merchant who actually owns the cart looks like he's about to address the masked woman. Crit gently nudges the woodsman's arm and shakes his head no. The woodsman thinks about it and then seems to think better of it as well.

"I do not believe I nest." Harkashan rumbles bemusedly, with a raise of his brow. "I also prefer not to have too much bread. But I will trade you meat for bread." He then adds, reaching into his bag for a cloth-wrapped piece of meat. "No sticks." 

When the small figure in red moves through the market, Harkashan fails to spot them at first. Not until they get close enough that they're slipping around Harkashan. The tall Sith-makar looking down as the small bird-masked thing gets around him and greets Aelwyn.

"It is always good to meet a friend of Aelwyn's." He rumbles when the small thing greets Aelwyn, clearly knowing the ruddy runt. 

"Introduce us~." He rumbles then.

The comment of 'nest in peace' has Rune's lips pressing together with barely contained laughter. There are times when Aelwyn's turn-of-phrase just seems to amuse her. "Trying to stock up before we get back into the winter seasons. It's hell to find them once the cold sets in." 

Her eyes flit between Harkashan's armful of food and Aelwyn's offer to her mate before she chuckles a little, "I'm sure it's wonderful." Her eyes roll slightly at the lava-scaled one's comments, "Getting him to eat anything other than meat is damn near impossible." 

And then, there is a look towards the masked individual who seems to know Aelwyn. Rather than making assumptions, she just looks curious, "A friend from your days as a traveling performer?"

The woman - for it is a woman though her outfit does little to emphasize this, and rather lends itself to androgyny, manages to playfully evade Aelwyn's grasp and quickly steps closer to him in the same moment. She's very quick, which isn't surprising given her size really. "Yes, introduce us!" She encourages Aelwyn, slipping in close enough that they could have embraced but she doesn't offer this. "Have you made new friends in our absence Dancing Dragon?"

Critias sets down what he is working on - some sort of rolled up fabric although still not complete - and moves around from behind the cart and closer to the Sith and half-elf. This also changes him from crafter to shopper and excuses him from being curious to the point of nosy. "Dancing Dragon?" he repeats. He looks at Aelwyn in new light. "Quite a title..."

Aelwyn continues grinning as the stranger slips from his grasp, he himself stepping around on his clawed toes as he holds his hands out to the sides. Palms out. His body sways as he 'threatens' the halfing with a sudden swoop of an embrace again, without doing so.

"A friend?" The Dancing Dragon asks, and then seems to notice the others around him. And then his pupils narrow, as his grin deepens towards macabre. "No, this is family."

The draconian then steps around the phoenix masked halfing, and attempts to touch them forward, as if trying to tempt them into a dance. "Of the Crimson Troupe: this is Hell, for every fire has a fury." There's deep breath as he looks on towards her. 

"Bread makes you fat." Harkashan just states with a matter-of-factly tone of voice as Rune remarks on getting him to eat anything but meat. "Unless you are a Sith-makar. Sith-makar don't get fat." This is of course inaccurate... but Sith-makar don't often come in 'chubby' format.

"Well met, Hell." Harkashan then rumbles to the small thing. "Aelwyn has told us of the Crimson Troupe. Have you come in an attempt to see how far he's come towards his dreams?" He inquires with the small thing while bowing his head.

"We are indeed friends of Aelwyn. I am Death Singer Harkashan." Introducing himself.

"Getting fat has very little to do with bread and you know it." Rune pokes the lava-scaled Makari in the arm, but by the sounds of it, this is an argument the two have had more than a few times. It is likely it will not come to a resolution now, or ever.

Instead, she focuses her attention on the halfling, "That's... certainly one hell of a name." She smirks, "I've heard a bit about your troupe. It's a shame I never got a chance to see them while Aelwyn was performing. These days, I mostly just get to see hints of it when he fights."

Since introductions are being made, Rune inclines her head, "Rune. No fancy titles."

The halfling woman does a pirouette and a little turn, joining the dance invitation from Aelwyn and offering a theatrical bow to the group of Aelwyn's friends. "He's spoken of us has he?" She tilts her head and looks at the small sith and then smiles. "That is some idea Rune!"

With that the halfling turns entirely back to Aelwyn. "The whole Troupe is in town, you should join us for our show! I know that our new Master of Ceremonies would be glad to have you Aelwyn. It's why I was hoping to run into you actually. I'm in Alexandria promoting our show and hoping I can convince you to do one last hurrah with us..." She looks at him with wide hopeful eyes. "Surely your friends would enjoy seeing you perform!"

"My name is Critias," the human offers. "I like to consider myself a friend. A fellow adventurers at the least." He glances back at the wagon he was stationed at earlier. Still no hint of a customer in sight. With a slight smirk Critias returns his attention to the conversation. "One thing I haven't done since I came to this city, is watch a show. Are the performances in the Theatre district?" He looks between Aelwyn and the halfling, as if wouldn't be surprised if the answer comes from either.

"A new Master of Ceremonies?" Aelwyn asks, his body sliding to a stand. Questions raced in his mind - but they are all banished with a wide grin. "Of course I have. How can the curtain of the Crimson Troupe be kept shut?"

The ruddy sith-makar's chest rises and falls in what appears to be agitation of some sort, but he slowly slides towards the halfling again. "You tempt me too easily with promises of a show - why should it be the last hurrah, if the whole Troupe is staying in town?" He asks with a playful voice.

To Rune, he replies, "One should see the fires she can conjure!" Then towards Critias, he flashes his teeth. "Surely the Theatre District could not contain her, Tradesman." The Dragoon looks down again. "Or the rest of the Troupe."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. I haven't seen Aelwyn perform beyond his beautiful glaive-work. So that would certainly be something I'd love to attend." Harkashan rumbles, before looking towards Aelwyn. "If Aelwyn is feeling up for it." Making sure to consider his friend's feelings on the matter.

And it certainly seems Aewlyn is on board. It's always good to see that fire in the ruddy little Sith-makar. Harkashan can't help but smile at this expression of his. Aelwyn always seemed happiest when he was dancing, or had a purpose.

The enthusiasm from the halfling is met with a warm smile of her own, and a sort of wonder that comes along with the prospect of seeing something new and unusual. Rune has always been drawn to performances, usually bard songs and storytellers, but dance and acrobatics can also tell a tale of its own. "If that's the case, I'd certainly want to get some tickets to watch."

She raises an eyebrow, "Just so long as I sit a liiittle bit back from the flames." The rogue laughs, "Our travel in Am'shere was close enough to the fire for my liking. But I'm sure it's a wonder to watch." 

Then, looking to the phoenix-masked Hell, "When is the troupe planning to perform?"

The little halfling looks enthused that Aelwyn is accepting the offer. "That's excellent. I'll tell our Master of Ceremonies right away!" She reaches out and touches the small sith on his arm. "It'll be good to see you perform again."

With that and a touch of flourish she turns to the others. "We are gathering outside the city of Alexandria in a field big enough to perform in. The details will be spread through the city as soon as dates are picked. We came in on a ship just last night."

This last comes with a little wink, and then she drops a pebble to the ground that sparks with fire and smoke! Red flames and red smoke before she appears on top of Critias's abandoned cart. "Come one! Come all! See the Crimson Troupe in full!" She waves her fingers and tips back her head to let out a gout of flame six feet tall into the air. It's so extraordinary... that no one sees her leave.

Critias nods in understanding to Aelwyn. "I see what you mean now." He tilts his head back to catch some of the smoke dissipating into the air. "If all of your performances feature flame and other effects… maybe it's best if they don't occur next to costumed plays and bardic concerts." He glances vaguely towards the north. "A field outside of the city, eh? I wonder where." He pauses and then adds slowly, "And if your old colleagues know of some of the strangeness that's plagued the lands outside of the walls."

Right away. At the touch, Aelwyn's expression suddenly softens and loses a lot of its brought up cheer. "No matter what shall pass, that is something I will surely cherish." He replies to her - before she is off.

The Dragoon straightens and without flinching, watches the halfling hop and dance away. There's a long inhale and then a slow exhale, before he rolls his shoulders. He slowly splits his lips apart. "Ah, this one remembers whence we ran through the streets, Tradesman." He then tilts his head, starting to look over the rest of the people standing. There was a sense of tiredness to him. "This one is not sure where, but surely it will not be a hard spot to see." He slowly rumbles, absently grabbing his glaive. "It is the Crimson Troupe, after all."

If anything that Rune has heard about the Crimson Troupe is true, it's probably best that they are performing outside the city. The element of danger may not fly so well with the city guards. At the same time, it sure is a thrilling prospect. 

The sudden spark of distraction, and Rune's ears twitch a moment before her eyes follow to the halfling's location. "Got to give them credit, they know how to draw attention. It's too bad the market isn't more crowded, today."

Turning to Aelwyn, though, she seems to look him over more curiously. Perhaps it's the slow breath, or the roll of his shoulders, but she's never been good at really reading the Makari at the best of times. Perhaps... it is a reaction she will ask about later.

-End