A Merry Pub Scene

Log Info

• Title: A Merry Pub Scene

• Emitter: Skielstregar

• Characters: Randolf, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, Telamon

• Place: A07 - The Fernwood Pub

• Summary: Skielstregar is reading the Tribune at the Fernwood when he reads a certain announcement. The subjects of that announcement, Ravenstongue and Telamon, stroll into the pub. Skielstregar gives the couple his congratulations, and they talk for a bit on the circumstances that led to the proposal. Randolf walks in and offers his congratulations as well, and the group discusses recent happenings and developments in their lives. Ravenstongue and Telamon leave once they realize they might have left Pothy at home too long, and Randolf and Skielstregar discuss things for a while longer before Skielstregar gets embarrassed and leaves.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.

The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-    
Randolf              4'10"    280 Lb     Mountain Dwarf    Male      A burly, well-dressed Khazad in wizardly robes.                            
Ravenstongue         5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.    
Skielstregar         7'2"     330 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A silver/bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes.                        
Telamon              5'6"     140 Lb     Half-Elf          Male      A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes 
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Fernwood Pub, Early Evening.

With the sun starting to rest on its western blanket, the popular eatery and resting establishment is in full swing. Patrons filling most of the seating, conversation a dull thrum as it carries around and above, folks leaning against the balconies in front of their respective rooms.

Though, light scatters in odd and strange angles along the wall as a brilliantly shiny silver and massive makari is sitting in a chair near the fireplace. He shifts a cloak over him to keep most of the reflections at bay, but it doesn't help too much. In his hands is the most recent Tribune, dead silver eyes set in a squint as he's reading.

It's comically small in his grasp, like a Jotun reading a gnome's book.

"... huh," he mumbles, reading an interesting snippet as a light smile flickers across his maw.

A taloned hand plays with his holy symbol, thumb brushing against a redscale attached to it while he reads.

Indeed, some things have finally come to pass. A half-elven couple step into the Fernwood, the door shutting behind them to banish the chill. Telamon pushes his hood back with one hand, since his other is currently occupied -- specifically, because it's holding Raven's in a gentle grasp. "Well, nobody's tried to annoy us all day," he remarks. "That's always a good sign."

He politely waits for the waitress to lead them to a table, though he catches sight of a rather... distinctive sith-makar near the fireplace. "Think Skiel would mind if we joined him, 'Lana?"

Ravenstongue pulls down her own cloak and smiles at her other half as they step inside. "It's a good sign indeed," she says rather cheerfully. "Maybe she took my compulsion to heart and did just as I asked. Would probably be the first time someone's ever told her to do it, too, I imagine."

Her violet eyes wander over to Skielstregar and she grins. The sith is not hard to miss, after all. "Let's ask! Hi Skielstregar!" she says, waving a hand with a new decoration on one finger: a golden band with three stones in the center, a diamond flanked by amethysts.

Skielstregar perks up, catching his name amongst the din of conversation. He tilts his head, looking off one way, then to the other- oh! A grin splits his toothy and fanged maw. "Ssshamansss, hello!" he chirps back in his deep tone, raising a talons-too-long hand and waving to them. The wave turns to a beckon, and his voice carries over the thrum, "Come, sit, the fire issss warm!"

He squints some at them as they draw near. "Thisss one hass been reading the current tomesss- erm, newsss. Isss it common for sssoftskinsss to do make thisss declaration? Thisss one thought it wasss obvioussss."

Telamon leads Raven to Skiel's table, pulling out her chair and seating her before taking his own seat. "It's tradition. I actually commented as much to 'Lana that some traditions are observed not for their own sake, but for the participants, because it lends meaning."

His expression becomes slightly sardonic. "In times past, it was also to give notice in the event someone might object to the union. I admit I am curious to see if someone in particular does react. But, that is our problem to address. How are you this evening, and how is Vaera?"

"It's for legal reasons as well as sentimental," Ravenstongue elaborates, taking a seat and giving Telamon a warm smile as she settles into her chair. Her hands come to rest on the table, her eyes flickering down for a moment on her new ring as though she's still really getting used to it being there. "I'm afraid my father is engaging in some rather ill-advised tomfoolery that neither of us have been able to reason through yet. A noblewoman's nine-year-old son appeared on our doorstep the other night with his manservant and declared I was his betrothed."

She sighs. "So we got that mess sorted out, and decided to defend ourselves. It's... kind of funny in retrospect now."

Skielstregar scratches his head. "Thisss one sssees. Typically, from what thisss one remembersss of their tribe, the newsss of a union is spread quickly through camp, and the next full moon isss when a celebration isss held. There tendsss to be little... cause for objection. Life isss hard in Am'shere, and the People- makari, set aside differencessss for the sssake of perseverance."

He blinks, then glances aside. "... though, the oruch tribesss's customsss are... vastly different than many."

He clears his throat, then nods along as they get themselves situated. A brow raises, him about to take a sip of whatever he's got nearby, but the cup stops halfway up. "... what. A.. hatchling'sss fate wasss decided before they even-"

He squints heavily.

"... doesss your father need a talking to..." he growls quietly.

Telamon grins tightly. "Skiel, my friend, please do not tempt me. I am no more pleased with his... shenanigans than 'Lana, or you." He orders a round of drinks, before continuing. "I'll be honest, the whole thing seems... strange. He filed a notice of acknowledgement -- recognizing her as his offspring, legally. Then he forged a betrothal document, and we found out when the lad showed up on our doorstep."

Tel rubs his chin, before continuing. "I just can't figure it out. Supposedly, the man has a child on the way, so the inheritance would be secure. Why recognize 'Lana at all? And then the false betrothal. It was stupid. I feel like I'm fumbling around in the dark, trying to light a torch."

Ravenstongue smiles as well at Skielstregar's threat. There's nothing like having a big scary friend who cares, after all. "It's okay for now, Skielstregar," she says. "He's not going to mess with me any time soon. I kind of told his wife to fuck off and leave us both alone after charming her."

She's a little smug about that last bit.

"I don't fear him, at any rate, and I doubt he'll do anything for now since Tel and I have demonstrated we're not about to roll over and take what he's doing."

Skielstregar, at the assurances that things are okay, huffs lightly, a cloud of frozen air rolling out from his nostrils. "Very well."

He considers Telamon's worries for a spell, the silverscale's brain ticking slowly.

Very... very slowly.

"Thisss one doess not know the intricacies of sssoftskin culture. The only reassson thisss one sseesss is that they are sssetting up a supposed trail to raze later as a scapeclaw. Err... bridge to burn. Scape goat. Yess. Tradespeak. Weird."

He grins at Ravenstongue. "Good! Defend your territory." Circling back to Telamon's question, he continues. "If thisss one had issues with someone not approving of Vaera and thisss one, then there would be... words shared. She is well, Telamon," he finally answers, tone dropping to a soft rumble as he answers it.

His tail sways wide.

Randolf pushes open the door and lumbers into the Fernwood. As always, he looks rumpled and weary, but perhaps a little more so, ever since the nightmares began plaguing the spellweavers of Alexandria. He also has a dark, stormy scowl on his face--also fairly typical, but there's a blackness to this anger that makes the burly dwarf seem even gloomier than usual. He stumps over to the bar and hops up into one of the dwarf-height chairs. "Whiskey, please," he grunts to the bartender. "The good stuff, not the cheap stuff." He glances over to see his friends. For a moment, the black cloud hovering of him seems to lighten somewhat, at least enough for him to manage a wan, weary smile. "Telamon. Raven. All right? Skiel, peace on yer nest. I read the news in the Tribune. My congratulations tae the pair of ye. I'd get ye a weddin' gift, but I've nae earthly clue what tallfolk like fer such occasions."

Telamon snorts into his wine as Raven describes slapping the lady Ainasse with a charm. "It worked, though. The last thing we needed was a scene." He reaches over to place his hand on Raven's for a moment, and nods to Skiel. "The whole thing just feels off. But 'scapegoat'... hm. Might be worth contemplating."

He catches sight of Randolf, and his expression lightens as well. "Randolf! Come over, when you've gotten your drink! We'll put together some kind of bridal list at some point, when the world's not crashing through a crisis." He pauses, then grins ruefully. "But not dwarven whiskey. Neither 'Lana nor I have a head for it."

"Possibly," Ravenstongue says, contemplating the concept of a scapegoat. She eventually waves it off and smiles. "Of course, I didn't expect for Tel to actually propose to me after we left the courthouse. Were you planning on proposing to me in the spot where we first kissed this entire time, you crafty man?" she asks, that last question directed at Telamon, of course.

She smiles and greets Randolf as the dwarf comes in. "That's right! We have a bottle of opened dwarven whiskey to give you. We tried it the other night and wow, we tried it but... It's just not for us! Even Pothy gave it a taste and couldn't handle it! -- But honestly, we're not asking anything for wedding gifts. I just want our friends to be there."

Randolf picks up his whiskey as it's set before him, and passes over a couple coins in return. He hops to his feet and lumbers over to where the others are sitting, planting his hefty rump in an unoccupied chair. "Here's fer a happy an' prosperious marriage! CHEERS, OCH!" he booms. He thunks his glass on the table and tosses it back, gulping the potent liquor down. "Oh, dwarven whiskey ye say? Well, I'll never turn that down! Reos knows I could use it. But if whiskey's not tae yer likin', ye might try honey mead. Or apple mead. I do love me a nice, tart apple mead. Just make sure ye serve it ice cold, that makes it taste best!" He manages a low chuckle at Raven as he digs for his pipe. "Oh, codswallop, lass. A fine friend I'd be if I only showed up tae eat yer weddin' cakes an' drink yer booze! Hrm." He ponders for a moment as he works on filling his pipe. "I'd make ye both summat magicked, but I can only really brew up potions an' scribe arcanima. A proper weddin' gift should be summat that lasts. Hrm."

Skielstregar grins, waving to the dwarven wizard. "Peassse on your nesst, Shaman Randolf," he greets, beckoning him over.

The massive makari sips on his drink, raising a brow. Intrigued by all this new culture, yet not really understanding most of it. "Thisss one will be there," he says easily. "Perhapsss Vaera too."

He simply raises his glass as Randolf bellows out a cheer, him lightly smiling.

"Honey mead sounds nice, actually," Ravenstongue says thoughtfully, tapping her chin in thought. "Honey is an ingredient that Grandfather often cooks with. I like it in my tea especially, or in some of the cookies he brings me."

She looks over at Telamon and says, "I don't think you've touched anything with apples in it since our dream walk." She grins a little at him before her gaze returns to Skielstregar and Randolf. "Please, neither of you have to bring anything. ...Except maybe snack supplies for Pothy. Those are always appreciated, and since he's going to be the ringbearer at the ceremony, he's been demanding snack compensation to match." She smiles a little bashfully. The feathered tyrant must make his demands known at some point.

"Mead's good, though you have to drink it in moderation," Telamon comments. "The hangovers are brutal." He shudders at the mention of apples. "Cider I like, 'Lana, but that weird bastard gave me a bottle of applejack and it tasted like something you'd use to preserve a sample." His face contorts in disgust, and he knocks back another sip of wine. "But yes, I did plan to propose to you there. I just figured I'd... seize the moment, as it were."

He looks to Skiel and Randolf. "But yes. You will both be invited when we set the date. Vaera is of course welcome as well." He gives Randolf a measuring stare. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, my friend."

Skielstregar rubs his chin. "Thisss one hasss not had honey mead before. Though, thisss one will think of sssomething to give you regardless."

He tilts his head at Telamon's comment, but he just shrugs. "Thisss one looksss forward to your invitation. Pleassse sssend it to Wayfarersss Inn at Wilderness Pointe. It iss, erm, hard to receive thingsss in Mictlan. Thisss one will let Firebrand know," he smiles, rubbing at the redscale on his necklace.

Randolf snaps his fingers, conjuring a spark to fire up his pipe. He banishes the spark with a snap of his wrist, grinning around a billow of sweet vanilla-honey pipe smoke as he chuckles at Telamon. "Well, that sleepin' formula ye gave me's worked wonders," he says. "I still wake up tired an' groggy as hell. But at least I'm sleepin'." He turns his grin on RT. "Aye, snacks I can bring well 'nough. Ye ever have dwarven nut bread? Most tallfolk dinnae care for it. It's too heavy for 'em. But a solid loaf o' that should last even Pothy at least a day or two!"

"We'll end up sending invitations to quite a few people," Ravenstongue says with a smile. "We're likely to hold the wedding in the Mythwood, where Telamon's family lives. Of course, my father and his wife aren't invited, so no one will have to deal with that--although, hmm, watching Skielstregar threaten them might be worth it..."

She looks at Randolf and smiles. "That's wonderful! I'm glad Tel was able to help you. We've had to resort to our own methods of coping with the nightmares. It... Well, it's turned out surprisingly nice." She flushes a little at this last statement. "It brought us closer together."

Telamon smirks. "I think you wanted to send them a non-invitation, 'Lana. 'Stay away if you like solid food' or something." He chuckles at her flush, and his eyes twinkle a bit. "It was... a bit complicated. Suffice to say that lucid dreaming is not for the meek at heart."

Nodding to Skiel, Tel seems to make a mental note of the mailing address. He inclines his head to Randolf. "Sopor venerum is in high demand among spellcasters these days, but I think you had it rougher than most. You were... uh... promising me pretty much anything under the moon. Which I will not hold you to, by the way."

The notion of someone wanting to get inbetween his two friends' union makes the intimidating warrior puff up with honor. "Thisss one will make sssure they will not be there. And if they are, they will be forcibly removed."

Skiel tilts his head at what Ravenstongue mentions. "... yesss, resssting with the other doess quell the worriesss some, even if the nightmares remain."

There's just a hint of a cheeky smile.

Randolf boggles a little bit at Telamon. "Well, that's most kind of ye," he says. "Because I cannae remember a single damned thing about that night. I certainly wasn't meself. I've never been so badly sleep deprived afore, not even durin' finals week!" He looks between Telamon and RT, looking curious. "Lucid dreamin', is it? I've read about it in some texts. That's where ye take conscious control o' yer dream state, innit? Fascinatin' exercise, I'll warrant."

"That will be much appreciated, Skielstregar--I think we will have to have you as our security team," she says with a smile, although the resting comment causes her to flush again. "It's completely chaste, I assure you."

She clears her throat. "Besides, the more interesting story is the dream walk. It's true, it was... fascinating. And incredibly harrowing. We conducted a rite to dream the same dream together in order to find out more information about Telamon's sorcerous talent, and we met two rather curious individuals along the way."

Ravenstongue glances over her back for a moment with a little pout. "I also had wings in the dream. Still kind of miss them..."

Telamon lightly touches Raven's back. "Someday, perhaps." He smiles at her fondly, before grinning at the notion of Skiel handling security. "I'm sure there'll be no problem and any recalcitrant guests will listen to reason." He looks quite smug at the notion, in fact.

Randolf's admission draws a firm nod. "You were very bad off, Randolf. I'll just leave it at that. I don't want to embarrass you. In any case... yes. It was a shared, lucid dream. It was all very strange. The man on the ship, the madman on the wagon, and then the Watcher itself..."

"They will lisssten, or they will be tossed out by a fourteen foot version of thiss one." Skielstregar smiles, which then turns into a proper cheeky grin at Ravenstongue. "Of courssse. Nothing more."

The discussion of a dream walk makes him raise a shiny scaled brow. "... that isss... interesssting. Soundsss sssimilar to asssking the ancessstors for guidance back home. Though, having wingsss soundsss fun. Thisss one issn't sure they would enjoy navigating their own dreamsss."

Randolf puffs quietly at his pipe, listening with interest to Telamon and RT as they relate their shared dreaming experience. "Aye, I've heard o' shared dreams," he says. "I can certainly see how that'd bring ye closer together. They say that when we're dreamin', our minds are filterin' everything we observed durin' the day. We bypass logic entirely an' leap straight tae understandin'. Hrrm." Puff puff. "Wonder if that'd make it easier tae learn spells...?" He grins a bit at Skiel. "I've seen ye get testy, lad. Think all ye'd have tae do is snort some o' that icy mist at 'em, an' they'd get the idea right quick."

"Skielstregar, you're already terrifying enough at seven feet tall when you want to be," Ravenstongue says with a grin. "Although I could picture you with some proper dragon wings..."

The half-elf sorceress shakes her head, as though banishing that thought experiment from her mind. "Well, there's all manner of things that could be done on a dream walk. Tel and I did it to try and reach the Watcher in the Stars and learn more about his gift, but there could be reasons to do it beyond that. At the very least, it was nice to have a small break from nightmares--although the dream started out that way."

Telamon snorts. "Agreed. I've seen you in a fell mood, Skiel. I think you could scare someone off just by saying 'boo'." At Raven's comment, he cocks his head, squinting at Skiel. "...Yeah, he'd look good with wings."

Tel takes a sip of wine. "If you do opt to try for a dream-walk, make sure you ward yourself. There's some really nasty things at... for lack of a better way to put it, the deeper end of the lake. You don't want to get their attention." He shudders.

Skielstregar snorts, which does exactly what Randy says: a gout out frozen air puffs out from him. "Thisss one doesss their bessst to reel it in, but sssometimes the bessst way to stop a fight isss to be really ssscary."

Funny, considering he's a big softie.

The thought of dragon wings gets him thinking. "... now that would... that would be grand..." he muses, perhaps a little giddy. Is that a giggle? No, just a rumble in his chest. Or just a really deep sounding giggle. "Hmmm. Perhapsss something like that would help thisss one figure out their magic as well. Mayhapsss Vaera would be privy to attempt sssuch a thing.." A glance to Telamon, and his warning, "... but perhapsss not so far asss that. Thisss one wouldn't want to risssk Firebrand or themssselves."

Randolf hrrms. "Watcher in the Stars? Sounds like summat out of a horror story," he says. "The Exodimensions curriculum has plenty tae say 'bout alien mind-warpin' entities that dwell in the furthest reaches o' the stars. None of it's really pleasant. Most of it's pretty horrifyin'. Think I'd prefer tae keep summat like that out o' me dreams, thank ye verra much!"

"The Watcher's actually a very nice entity," Ravenstongue says. "The Watcher is... Do you know what a flumph is? They're sort of like odd jellyfish creatures with two eyestalks. They're kind of cute."

She has a small smile on her face at the memory. "At first I thought it was something like what you were saying, Randolf, but that's not the case, as it turns out. In fact, the Watcher protected one of Telamon's ancestors and saved them from being turned insane by aboleths."

Her eyes lock onto Skielstregar's. "You know what that means, too, Skiel. We saw what we saw back in Rune." It's the only sentence she says on that particular expedition.

Telamon has never asked Raven about it, and figures she doesn't want to relive it anyways. Instead, he nods to Skiel and Randolf. "I don't recommend this for everyone, because it IS jarring. I'm pretty certain you shouldn't tackle it unless you need to. But no; suffice to say that the Watcher is not human, but it is benign."

He sits back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "There's a lesson there, I think. Allies can be found in the oddest places, if you're willing to look -- and willing to give someone a chance to prove themselves."

It wasn't until what Randolf said that the relatively simply man makes a connection, and his fanged maw opens up to voice a concern as he locks gaze with Ravenstongue. "Wait, issn't tha-"

She beats him to it. Blink. ".... oh. Well. That isss good there isss a guardian between the starsss. Though... it sssounds asss if othersss of your family might have been driven mad in the passt. Take caution..."

The star-touched half-sil's words makes the silverscale squint some, and his gaze drops to his own scaled hand. He flexes his fingers, the scales sliding over one another smoothly as a faint black ichor lines the crevices. "... you are wissse," he simply says.

Randolf draws a steady pull from his pipe, the bowl glowing hotly in his hand. He puffs a couple artful smoke rings, his brows furrowing in thought. "Hrrm... but that just makes ye wonder... how d'ye tell the kindly entities from the malevolent ones?" he says. "Like... there's plenty o' terrifyin' devils from the Nine Hells. But they've also got the tempters an' seducers as well. The ones that make ye want tae fall. Seems tae me that alien intelligences beyond the stars... well... we really wouldn't be able tae understand 'em. They'd be nothin' like anything we know."

"We know this one is benevolent," Ravenstongue says, "because the Watcher stated it is an enemy to aboleths. It was nothing but kind and courteous to us when we were there."

She smirks a little. "Plus it had the wisdom to say that it knew it wasn't going to talk to Telamon without including me on the same page."

Her hand goes to her chest and she says, "Honestly, the subject of devils is why I'm grateful that I have Grandfather and am under his influence," she says. "I have never had to deal much with devils and demons, but I don't think they'd ever tempt me. I have beguiling blood in me too, after all--which I did not use to bewitch Telamon despite what some might think." That last bit is a joke, but she delivers it with her usual little pout on the subject.

Telamon chuckles. "Of course not, love. I didn't need to be beguiled. If I recall right I was... a trifle oblivious at first." He snakes his arm around Raven's shoulders, hugging her for a moment.

Addressing Randolf and Skiel, he continues, "The Watcher has... always been there. At least in my dreams. It's a little hard to explain, but it appeared, originally, as a vast giant-like shape. Inscrutable. It couldn't communicate, except through basic concepts and emotions. And what I got from it, even then, was compassion." He looks at his free hand, rubbing his fingertips together. "Compassion's something you have to cling to, when you have magical talent. Too easy to get wrapped up in your own hubris and ego until suddenly you... don't see the people around you any more as people. Just... numbers. Or resources."

Skiel abates his inspection of the nercomantic black ichor, causing it to vanishing a black waft as he looks to the others. His head tilts slowly to the side, and he nods. "Yesss, compassion isss important. Paramount in teachingsss of the Dragonfath- er, Daeusss. It iss bondss that make one ssstronger." He fiddles with the red scale on his necklace.

"Ssstill-" he looks between everyone present. "We have all sssimilar manners of magic, yet all completely different waysss of usssing it," he observes thoughtfully.

Randolf hrrms. Puff puff. "We have differin' approaches, don't we?" he says. "You were born wi' yer gift. Me, I've had tae develop mine. I had the talent, but it was untrained. But me studies have helped focus an' direct it." He manages a gentle smile. "But... that's heartening tae hear. That the power that grants ye yer gifts is a kindly one. I've never really had anything like that. I was always the black sheep o' my family. The oddball everyone scratches their heads at. Though I do have me wee niece an' nephew. They love it when I perform magic for 'em, at least."

"It's true, we do all use it differently, although I think Tel and I use our magic for somewhat more similar uses than the others. However, I do have Pothy..."

Ravenstongue seems to remember something. She looks over at Telamon with a expression that borders on horror. "Tel, how long has Pothy been at home by himself?"

She takes her fiance's hand and rises from her chair. "Ahh, sorry guys, we really ought to get home. Pothy's okay by himself for a little bit, but if you leave him alone too long, he starts tearing apart the house looking for snacks. Trust me, that's experience talking."

Telamon's eyes widen, and he says something fairly unprintable. "Yes! We'll have to compare notes on magic use at some point!" He hurriedly jumps to his feet, and fishes around in his pouch before pouring several silver coins onto the table.

"Come on, 'Lana, with any luck he hasn't broken into the crullers I bought this afternoon..." The two depart hurriedly.

Skielstregar sips the last of his drink. "Thisss one was not born with it," he says neutrally. But, he manages a smile. "It isss nice that someone appreciates your art."

He blinks at the two half-sil, and he waves to them as they briskly depart. "Er... Peasse on your nessst...?" he says in farewell. A sigh leaves him.

"... they need to not give into hisss demandsss. That'sss not how you train an animal."

Randolf watches them go, chuckling softly around his pipe. "I think there's more than just an animal involved," he says to Skiel. "Raven told me that she got Pothy from her dam, an' apparently her dam afore her. I've never known a raven tae live that long. Maybe it's some kind of incarnate spirit. Who can say? 's a wee bit outside my wheelhouse, innit?"

Skiel tilts his head to the side. "...a... dam? Like... the thing beaversss make?" He shudders at the thought of beavers. "Even if it isss an incarnate spirit, it ssstill needs to have sssome sort of ressspect for itsss massster."

Randolf looks up at Skiel through a billow of pipe smoke. "Nah, lad. Dam. 'Damsel'. Her mother. But aye, I'll nae disagree wi' ye there. 's part o' the reason I built a wand. Think I'd be shite at tryin' tae take care of a familiar. Knowin' my luck, it'd want tae make a nest in me beard or somethin' equally ridiculous."

Skiel scratches the side of his face, glancing aside. "Ah. Right. That isss... interesssting."

That's a word.

He snorts and shakes his head, grinning. "Thisss one would think a sssparrow would make a wonderful nessst in your beard, Randolf. Or a sssquirrel! Fit right there, no fuss about it. Though, thiss one think'sss if you had a familiar, you'd have it on a tight leash."

He looks off to the fires. "Vaera hass her own swiftclaw, Wyrmere, and Ravenssstongue hasss Pothy. Perhapsss if thisss one, in their old life, ssstuck with their path, they would have had their own sssteed forged in the Dragonfather's brilliance."

A nostalgic, bitter sweet look crosses his dead eyes, but he shakes his head. "But alasss, life throwsss curvesss."

Randolf draws a last pull from his pipe, leaning over to upend it over the ashtray and knock the bowl clear. "True talk, laddie, true talk," he says. "Afore I came here, I'd resigned meself tae just bein' a boring ol' gemcutter. I never imagined I would've become a wizard. Probably would've died o' boredome, I shouldn't wonder." He tucks his pipe into his pocket with a chuckle. "But I like tae think that we end up exactly where we're meant to, when we're meant to. Nothin' is random. Everything happens fer a reason. Even if we never perceive what that reason is."

Skielstregar chuffs. "A sssunblade. Thisss one wass to be a sunblade."

He looks to his hands, and squints ever so faintly. "Thisss one thinksss similarly. But... this one thinks that we are onesss to accept our fate, or defy it, but we cannot deny it. Like now, necromancy fuelsss thisss one. And thiss one hasss to learn how to ussse it for the good partsss you mentioned."

Randolf nods his head. "Well..." he says, tugging his beard thoughtfully. "I see nae reason ye couldn't still be a sunblade. That's just a type o' paladin, innit? Layin' on hands, championin' the Bright Entities, rightin' wrongs an' battlin' evil? Hell, lad, that's Tariday fer us." He pauses. "Well, maybe nae so much wi' the layin' on hands. At least, I'm shite at that."

Skielstregar sighs and shakes his head. "No, thiss one couldn't. They lack the... temperament for it. This one isss too hassty, too sporadic for it anymore."

He chuckles to himself. "Thisss one isss good with laying."

"... with their handsss."

He shifts a bit on his seat. "... this one means they are good at helping people."

He's staring at his lap. "... thisss one will... go now. Peasse on you nessst, Sssshaman Randolf."

The awkward lizard starts to get out of his seat, leaving the Tribune paper behind as he tries to retreat from how far he shoved his foot in his mouth up the stairs to his rented room.

Randolf offers a wave. "Peace on yer nest, Skiel. See ye 'round!" He hops to his feet and ambles for the door, heading out himself.