Snacks at the Market

Log Info

• Title: Snacks in the Market

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Aryia, Mados, Munch, Ravenstongue, Seyardu

• Place: A07 - Lower Alexandria Market District

• Summary: It is an exceptionally cold evening at the Alexandria market district. Ravenstongue and Pothy are visiting the market for snacks despite the cold. Mados and Munch are also getting snacks at the stall. Aryia sees people she knows and joins in on the snacks and chatter, although she is constantly keeping Pothy on good behavior. Seyardu comes by with a handy haversack and Pothy somehow manipulates the bag to have her freshly-baked cookies on top. The group snack and chat away into the evening.

-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: Lower Alexandria Market District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=-

Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks.

For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world.

Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-    

Aryia        2m      4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    

A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her.                      

Mados        3m      5'10"    145 Lb     Human             Male      

Bald, smiling man in his mid-20s.                                          

Munch        3m      6'5"     225 Lb     War Golem         Male      

Dreadlocked golem with metal scales.                                       

Ravenstongue 0s      5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    

Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       

Seyardu      4m      5'6"     150 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    

A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint.      

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

To say it's a chilly early evening in the Alexandria market district is an understatement. The gales blow in from the northwest, bringing a deep and utter chill with them. Yet the market is not a hibernating beast that delves into caves for a winter's nap, and so the stalls and vendors are out in full force, albeit in more layers of clothing than usual.

At one such stall is a half-elf young woman, huddled into her hooded cowl as she patiently takes a sausage on a stick from a vendor. "Pothy!" she cries out, looking to the sky. "I got your stick!"

"Snacks!" responds a pale-feathered raven flying just overhead, his blue eyes going as wide as dinner plates as he spots the skewered treat. He swoops down from the air and lands gently onto the woman's shoulder. He slides the entire thing off the stick and swallows it in one smooth and practiced notion.

The woman looks almost green at the sight. "Really? Did you even taste that? Grandfather was right, I think you are improving at being a glutton," she says.

He moves slowly, steadily, as persistent as the tide; not shuffling, simply making room for passersby, cart-handlers, and even beggars, clad in a thick, heavy monk's robe, his feet clad in sturdy boots akin to those worn by generations of Jade Island sailors, both fair-sailed and black-jacked, his head covered and eyes not shielded, simply cast more to the ground than the occupants of the market.

Those steady steps being Mados to a halt, looking around at the flying bird, his eyes sweeping carefully from left to right, top to bottom, and reversing just as smoothly. With an odd glint to his left eye, he takes in the world, and then angles his features to the nearest vendor, holding up two fingers and a single thick, unusual coin, silver in color and odd in decoration. "Two, please," he says politely, his voice airless, and skin pale, utterly hairless. Not a whisker to be found, absent all follicle.

When the vendor hands over the street-meat on a stick, he finds a place to rest his satchel in his lap, his walking stick-cum-quarterstaff laying across one shoulder as he chews thoughtfully, continually observing the world, the port town's market, and the bird, with its unusual keeper. Had he eyebrows, they'd be raised.

Munch is naked, despite the cold. Well, technically he's wearing armor, but it's bonded to his flesh... if you care to call that rubbery artifical material flesh. Either way. the golem wanders with little more that a leather bag at his hip and wings tucked tight against the wind. Magicite eyes watch the pale bird with idle interest, nodding to the half-elf as it lands. "Nothing wrong with a little gluttony."

A short figured woman is clad in a verdant green buckle jacket, hands jammed deep into her pockets as she strolls out from a small offshoot road in the markets. A silver scarf makes several trips around her neck and shoulders to keep things warm, though long, scarred grey ears peek out to greet the cold.

The shadow elf slows as she hears a familiar call, torch-bright eyes swinging from diving bird.

She strolls up, an up-nod given to Munch and the duo of ravens. Her attention slides from those she knew to those she didn't, the other brow joining the other in recognition of attire. She shakes her head, and keeps such introspection to herself.

"Oh, nothing wrong with it, it's just always weird to see my beloved familiar swallow a sausage that's the size of his head and beak in one go," the half-elf woman replies to Munch with a rather embarrassed look. "He has a real talent for it."

The white raven croaks again as though to agree with her, and then nudges the empty stick in the half-elf's hand. She rolls her eyes and orders two more from the vendor as well, nodding to Mados as they both were now waiting for their orders. Then she catches sight of the shadow elf and smiles. "Aryia!" she says with a little wave.

"Snacks!" Pothy says regarding Aryia's arrival. Whether he means she has snacks or if she is a snack is unknown.

His eyes, bright and shiny, regard Ravenstongue with a casual ease; someone calmed by their choices, unhurried by interests. "A beautiful friend," he says politely, gesturing with the skewer holding the chunks of assorted meat and veggies into a proto-meal. "I envy you that bond." He smiles politely, and gives a half-bow, his seat soon claimed anew, settling into it with a comfortable sigh. Before he begins to dine on his meal, he peels up his sleeves, small hasps set into the fabric keeping them pinned back, and reveals a pair of inked forearms, each one bearing half of a single image: an icon of Vardama's temple - that of the scales of eternity. And so he begins to slowly lower his head, quietly muttering a brief prayer under his breath.

Munch buzzes softly and shrugs. "Still leaves the stick. Good fiber in those." He raises a hand in greeting to Aryia. The golem eyes the monk a moment, before nodding politely. The hairless should stand united.

Aryia raises a gloved hand in greeting once more. Instead of lips moving, fingers flick and twist to give meaning. "Hey. How's it going?" she asks, glancing (glaring) at the white raven.

The elf held no snacks, and she herself would be a painfully punchy one on the way down.

Even if the hairless man couldn't understand her, she can't help but motion with her hand, "Don't believe the bird's lies. Guard your meal." She didn't hold a high opinion of the avian, it seemed. If her pinched brows anything to go by. The tattoos are spotted and noted. Hmm. <Handspeech>

At seeing Aryia's motion and catching her words, Mados gives her a solemn nod, abruptly using his now-distributed sleeve to conceal the visual presence of half of his meal. By chewing on the stick of the other half of it, he frees up his other hand, making motions with it, aiming them to her. "Manythanks," he offers in the same cribbed, cryptic jazz-hands of a lingua franca. "Is my eye at risk?" is the next sentiment on offer, and he then taps his left eye with the skewer, a soft plinking sound ensuing; a fake, albeit a quality mockup of the real deal. Judging from the sheen of it, it's entirely possible it's made of amber or something similar.

"Oh, no, he doesn't go after people's eyes," Ravenstongue says out loud, appearing to understand Handspeech but being somewhat unable to respond in kind as she takes her ordered sausage skewers. Pothy makes a softer, happy noise as he takes one of them and repeats the mesmerizing, somewhat disgusting motion of sliding the sausage off the stick and swallowing it whole. The half-elf makes a point of not looking at him as he does this. "And he doesn't eat the stick because I taught him not to, mostly out of concern for him--although he's a familiar and doesn't need to eat to begin with. Little weirdo just likes to."

She pauses in her thought and looks at the group that's now begun to settle around the stall. "Are both of you new to Alexandria?" she asks of Munch and Mados. "I haven't seen either of you around here before. You can call me Ravenstongue. The bottomless pit of a bird is Pothy."

Munch eyes are also stone. A lost lost twin?

"Nah, I've been around for years, just don't get out much. Or rather, get out and stay out, patroling the Fellwoods or where ever seems like it might be interesting. Name's Munch, Munch TerrorMaw. The axe is Reaver." The massive greataxe upon the golems back declines to comment.

Aryia, the green clad shadow elf, blinks a few times in surprise at the returned gestures. The corner of her lips quirks upwards. That makes things quite a bit easier. She nods towards Ravenstongue. The glutton of a bird was along want of only foodstuffs, thankfully.

She looks to the half-elf, her clearly attentive to the spoken words. Her ears worked, it seems. And the glowing gaze swings over to the bald man, curious of the answer to the posed question.

"Mados Fellfar," the hairless man says, "And, yes, decidedly new to, well, solid ground, of late, and new to this town." He gives a brief, brittle smile, and motions to all assembled. "Nothing that I own has a name, it seems. No pets, companions, or familiar - just, well, myself and this stick." And that he pats warmly, like an old friend. "From the monastery to this morning, it's served me well." He then looks to Ravenstongue. "I hope I didn't offend your friend, thinking that.. well, they might steal my eye. It's happened before, when this," and then he taps the orb in its socket, "Was jade. Rather an expensive party trick played at my expense, quite literally." Still, he's smiling. A monk with a sense humor?

The snow was wonderful! Especially when the cold was not an issue in the slightest. And for a certain cleric, it was both a new and pleasant experience they weregetting used to, aside from the ice. The slightly shinier than usual ground was hard to pick up, and they were tripping over themselves even more than usual, unless they slowed down considerably.

The silver sith-makar was in the market that day to gather various ingredients.

Her bag was magical, and always had what was needed on top. And when a certain bird focused intently on the bag, what else could be front and center the next time she opened it but a large bag of delicious smelling baked goods?

Aryia tilts her head to the side at the introduction. 'Mados...' she mouths, seemingly trying to remember it after such an explanation. Attention slides from him, to the stick he carries, then looking him up and down. A faint, silent chuckle leaves her, and she flicks a gesture. "You sail?" she asks, pointing to Mados, brows raised.

A silver gleam catches her attention, the non-talking elf leaning back some to get a better look at who it was. She relaxes some at the sight, and gives a light two-toned whistle and a wave to greet and garner their attention. <Handspeech>

Munch blinks with a soft click, metal shutters sliding across stone eyes. "'Fellfar'? That sounds like a surname with an interesting story behind it. Not that I have any particular business knowing another person's family history."

"Oh, no, you didn't offend him in the slightest. He doesn't get offended by much except by denying him food," Ravenstongue says with a little laugh to Mados's comment. "I've seen him steal eyes from fish laying out in stalls. I've seen him try to eat roadkill and go for the eyes from that. But he seems to leave people's eyes well enough alone."

She looks to Munch, her eyes going wide at the mention of the Felwood. "Wow! If you patrol out there, you're probably not scared of much, huh? The city must be awfully boring in comparison."

Pothy, indeed, has not taken any offense whatsoever. He is content for all of five blissful seconds as he appears to bask in the feeling that the sausage on a stick has given him. Then it happens: the flash of familiar silver scales as they come into his view. Moreover, a bag being held by that familiar sith-makar. And what do bags contain?

That's right! They contain what is best in life!

Pothy flies over to Seyardu and lands on her shoulder. "Snacks!" he declares happily. It is so very good to have friends that bring you snacks, even if they weren't expecting to bring you any.

"Fellfar," Mados says, looking to Munch. "My great-grandfather, Aldura, was a spotter on a Seagarden protectorate ship," he explains, "And on his second-to-last day aboard ship, he was blown from the rigging by a sharp wind, and .. well, the fleet commander was on hand, and said, 'Come what may, young man, you've risen fast and fallen far', and from then on, out of pride, he took the name." Then the hairless man shrugs softly. "Our legacy name is keyed to a workplace accident." Then he looks to Ravenstongue. "He can have this, then," he offers, then reveals his second skewer of meat and veggies, holding it at arm's length; not from fear, just to allow the bird freedom of movement, unconstricted by his foolish head too close at hand. Or wing.

Aryia raises her brow as the story unfolds. She snorts, shaking her head. "That's a good story to tell," she signs after pulling out a gloved hand once more. There was more questions she had, though she didn't want to monopolize the stranger's meal time. Instead, the mute woman's gaze wanders near the staff once more, curious of what the monastery taught.

Then Pothy takes off, her too slow to warn the silverscale. <Handspeech>

Munch turns focus to Ravenstongue, considering a moment before he shrugs. "I guess? I don't really think about it much. The edge of the Fel is pretty tame, just keep going deeper as you grow stronger. Or go too far and die. Both are pretty common. Or I guess can stay out, but no place is totally safe." Turning focus back to the monk, he nods. "Neat to have a history to look back and draw upon. I just got a mouth people find scary, nothing creative about it."

Seyardu put away her things, and came face to face with an alabaster assailant perched on her shoulder. The sith-makar blinks, then chuckles as she opens up her bag again. From it she pulls out a bag, from the second bag, she pulls out a brown cookie that smelled strongly of ginger. It looked mostly human shaped, but the head had a prominent snout, and there was a tail sticking off to one head.

Hopefully the offering of this treat would not give them a taste for the real thing.

Seyardu then waves to her friend, and slowly makes her way over, clawed feet gripping the ground tightly to avoid slipping on the ice and potentially crushing the familiar in the process. "Ah, Aryia, Ravenstongue, and, Munch, yes? Peace on your nests, and yours as well, I do not believe we have met." She greets the small assembly.

Pothy takes the cookie from Seyardu, snapping it down in his brilliant white beak in a blur before he takes off to claim the stick offered out by Mados and finally settls back down onto Ravenstongue's shoulder. The bird is very practiced at snatching up snacks offered out to him and seems immensely pleased with himself as he works on consuming the veggies and meat from Mados's offered skewer. Tribute has been given, and therefore Pothy will be a merciful god on this day.

In stark contrast to the whirlwind of feathers, Ravenstongue is happy to stay in place, clearly all too used to Pothy's display. "That's one way to get a name," she says, fascinated by Mados's story. "And really, you're too kind--Pothy will certainly remember that generosity. I think he remembers most people by if they've given him food or not. Such as Seyardu, hello! Peace on your nest!" Ravenstongue gives Seyardu a little wave and a smile.

As he rises, Mados looks to Pothy and their owner, shaking his head, sighing with a smile. "There's no need for the thanks," he says, "Although it is appreciated." He then looks to Seyardu, nodding with a congenial tone. "Peace on your nests. May all of you find winds to your sails being kind. I must away, as my day fills as my bowl empties. Please, enjoy the day." And he then turns on his heels, staff in hand, moving back into the ebb and flow of the city, swallowed up soon enough, his skewer chewed, emptied, and discarded into a passing basket by dint of simply skewering it expertly - quite a skilled motion, that move.

Aryia gives the man a wave as he goes, her curiosity now reaching new heights. A sailor, a monk, and a kind soul? She needed to seek them out in the future, to further her breadth of understanding as her sources of mentorship have become dry.

She turns to the others, rolls her shoulders, and gets in line at the vendor.

Munch waves as the monk departs, mildly surprised, but turns his focus to Ravenstongue. "So what do you do other than bird care? I assume a magic user of some type?"

Seyardu laughs and waves off the man who is taking off suddenly, before she looks to the others. She reaches into her bag, and holds it open to the small group, filled with what could only be gingerbread lizardmen. "I missed an interesting story? that is unfortunate. I was told that people in this city often bake cookies spiced with tree bark and dark syrup when it is cold out, I can only assume as more common spices and sweeteners are hard to find when snow is out. You are all welcome to them, if you like."

Ravenstongue nods to Munch's question. "Yeah, I'm a sorceress. Madame Sandy is my mentor," she says. "I'm still learning, but I've been improving since I arrived in Alexandria back in the spring. I've gone on some adventures here and there, too."

Pothy's eyes dilate as Seyardu opens her bag. It wouldn't matter if they were gingerbread ravens... Pothy would still eat them. "Snacks!" he says, although softer than before due to being in close proximity to Aryia, who he seems to be somewhat wary of.

"Wait your turn, Pothy. I'd like a cookie too," Ravenstongue says, taking a cookie for herself. "You're so thoughtful, Seyardu! These look yummy."

Aryia raises her brows at the offer. "Oh, shit, thanks Seyardu!" a hand briskly gestures, grinning and taking one for herself. She looks it over, purses her lips, then shrugs.

Wasn't the first time she ate lizard.

She devours it as she gets two sausage-on-a-sticks herself from the food vendor. <Handspeech>

Munch accepts an offered cookie, holding it up for casual inspection. The golem's faceplate cracks open, the plates pulling back from a cavernous maw layered with row upon row of gleaming adamantine fangs, moist with translucent green ichor. Sort like a lampry crossed with a buzzsaw. The hapless cookie is tossed inside, and the plates snap closed, a soft grinding to follow. "Thank you." Nodding to Ravenstongue, he inquires "How is Sandy? I havn't seen her around for a while."

"You are welcome." Seyardu chuckles, pulling out one more cookie to offer the bird. Though she does stop, and squint at the golem, and take one step back. "That is, certainly a unique way to eat." She notes. "Yes, is Sandy still teaching you magic? I am sorry, but I may not be a particularly good test subject for your magic anymore, ravenstongue."

Ravenstongue is slightly mesmerized by Munch's consumption method for a moment before she seems to remember that questions were asked of her. "Oh, she's fine. I like that she doesn't solve my problems for me. She wants me to grow by trying to do things myself, and I really appreciate that."

She snaps the cookie apart in her mouth and makes a pleased hum. "Wow, this is good!" Ravenstongue says, although her amazement turns quickly to curiosity at Seyardu's statement. "How so? Did you find something interesting in one of your adventures?"

Aryia almost drops her vendor meal at Munch's display, a few crumbs of the cookie falling out as she sputters a 'wh-t th- f-ck?' Equal parts amazed and unsettled. But she reocvers, and rejoins the group with her meal in hand (and guarded from the bird. The threat was still on the table.)

Munch has EARNED his name of TerrorMaw. Be thankful you havn't seen him clean up after combat. "Sandy seems big on independance and toughness. And kicking shins. She kicks really hard." This from a guy with armored shins.

"I am glad they turned out fine. I was not sure if the different shape would affect the baking time. They let me use the oven at the temple of althea to bake them." Seyardu explains while the bag is stowed away. "The flavors are interesting, I would not have thought to use what they did. You softskins have discovered many ways to make things with grains and sweet ingredients."

The cleric pauses, and shakes her head. "No, I have not found anything to help resist magic, and if I did, it would likely be gifted to Braelnoir instead. It is moreso that I have grown in my understanding of magic itself, and that has made things much more obvious in many cases."

Ravenstongue snickers. "Madame Sandy seems like she could. I've been told stories before about some of the things she's done. Actually, the first time I met her, she just casually cast a banishment spell on a friend of mine! He came back okay, but I was so scared of her then!" It's funny now , but...

Pothy snaps up another cookie now that Ravenstongue's had one. He stays quiet. No raven punting seems to be had today.

"I'm glad to hear you're learning more and more too, Seyardu," Ravenstongue says merrily. "Not that I was ever the type to experiment with charming spells on my friends! I successfully charmed Madame Sandy the one time because she wanted to see my capabilities and that was more than enough for me!"

Aryia bobs her head at Seyardu mentioning her understanding of magic. She's seen the cleric at work and infused with holy energy. Terrifying, really. She does idly wonder if a fully blessed Seyardu could best an Aryia. She scratches her cheek with the stick in thought.

The mention of Sandy makes Aryia shift on her feet. She was thankful for the seamstress showing her one of her favorite passtimes. But man was there a lot of clothes to try on.

A... lot... of clothes...

"Huh. Impressive, I figured it's usually the other way around with Sandy," Aryia comments with a hand, the other occupied with food. <Handspeech>

Munch nods at the mention of banshment. "Been on the receiving end of that. Ultimately harmess by itself, really can change the tone of a conversation. And way handy in actual combat."

"This is true, you should not use charm magic on anyone you are friends with under almost all circumstances." Seyardu nods sagely. "That was impressive you managed with it. It is a good thing you are a good person, as charm magic can make people do a lot."

"I have not been to her shop in some time. These sleeves I purchased, they eliminate much of the need for shopping for clothes."

Ravenstongue manages to bite back a snicker from Aryia's comment. "Honestly, it was a fluke," she says in regards to Seyardu. "Beginner's luck. Pothy tried to take advantage of her charmed state by making her give him all of the sweetrolls she had. Bad bird." She side-eyes Pothy, who somehow manages to look guilty even as he's scarfing down more Seyardu cookies.

She looks back to Munch and raises a brow. "Banished? Where did you end up going? I've always wondered..."

Aryia shrugs. "I haven't been in a while because I remembered how to make my own clothes."

The mute finishes the last of her meal, and underhand tosses the sticks into the same bind that the monk earlier threw them in. She looks up at the sky, pulling her jacket tighter around her before stuffing a hand into her pockets. <Handspeech>

She does eye Pothy from Ravenstongue's scolding. Wow. What a rude bird.

Munch shrugs. "Might have more than one, but the one I got hit with sends you to an extra dimensional pocket, a magical labrynth. Can take some time to get out, but think is a dialation effect going on, so even if you linger, is only a handful of seconds beforecome back. Which can be forever if in the middle of combat." He watches the perfectly good sticks being thrown away with only a hint of disappointment.

"Yes, you should not use it to take advantage of people. Speaking of which, if you see a bard named Lars around, stay far away from him, and with other people you trust." Seyardu warns, before turning to Aryia. "But what if you want clothes from someone else? I will admit, I do not have what it is, a sense of 'style'? Yes, and I would much more trust clothes picked out by Sandy or you than myself. I do not put enough thought into what looks nice, not to mention, being physically incapable of it myself."

She listens to munch though, and seems curious as she regards them. "It creates a space that is a labyrinth? That is curious, and it sounds dangerous. I know how quickly combat can go, and a lot can happen in a matter of minutes."

Ravenstongue also looks thoughtful at Munch's description of a banishment spell. "A dimensional pocket? And time is strange when you're inside it and when you're getting out of it? That's really interesting... Maybe I'll ask Madame Sandy about it next when I talk to her. Or Archmage Mikilos."

She looks at Seyardu and looks thoughtful. "I think I got that warning too," she says. "I haven't managed to run into him yet."

Aryia nods in agreement with Seyardu at the warning, her visage just as serious about it, but, she relaxes and rubs her neck, and shrugs. "Yes, sometimes that is the case that I would. But kind of like making my own for the time being. I could try and help you with that, if you want. Some memories have came back, so I can figure out what looks good or doesn't."

She regards Munch's recounting with a raised brow, filing that away for later. Good to know. She rubs her face, looking back up the sun behind her sunglasses. "I got to catch up with some people, was stopping by for a bite. Good to see you all. Peace on your nest." She mute snaps a few gloved finger guns at people, little bursts of moonlight manifesting and vanishing in a flash as she does so from her hands while she walks backwards.

She hangs a right, then goes into the Fernwood. <Handspeech>

Munch buzzes, a low rumble undercut with a barely audible whine. If a chainsaw got pouty, it would sound like that. "Kinda hope to meet Lars in a dark alley sometime. Or a brightly lit alley, I'm not picky." He considers a moment. "Know is big magics, way stronger than I can do. Sandy is the only one I've seen cast it, but Mikilos is sure to know about it, even if can't do it himself.

Ravenstongue waves to Aryia as she departs. "Bye Aryia! Have a good night!" she says.

Pothy, meanwhile, looks like he's had a weight lifted off his wings. The bird-punter is leaving. "Snacks!" he decrees happily, finally able to use his voice again. He snatches another Sey-cookie and scarfs it down.

Seyardu chuffs and begins gently pulling the bird that is face down in her satchel out of it. Why was the bag even listening to what Pothy wanted? Were the whims of magic the birds to manipulate? Or did the cleric simply not wish to tell herself she wanted to give Pothy more snacks? The world may never know.

"Ah, peace on your nest, Aryia." She offers in parting, before she is gone. "Just how powerful is Sandy? I know Mikilos, and if it is something only he could manage, that sounds like powerful spellwork."

Munch considers. "Sandy is a sorcerer. Big on magic, not big on physical power. Her physical power dents metal. So her magical power... pretty huge."

Munch the golem perks, his leathery dreadlocks rising a moment. "Ah, gotta run. See you around." And with that, the metal man runs off.

Pothy gets the drift. He flies back to the safety of Ravenstongue's shoulder and huffs a little, like he's been insulted.

Ravenstongue doesn't look so sympathetic to his plight. After waving goodbye to Munch, she looks at Seyardu and laughs. "I guess I better take Pothy home so he stops terrorizing your bag," she says. "Peace on your nest, Seyardu."

"I do not know how he keeps finding food in there." Seyardu sighs as she closes her bag and straps it shut. "It is alright, but I promised I would bring some cookies for the nest mothers. Ginger root is supposed to be good for their stomachs, and sugar is good for their stress it seems." The cleric continues with a chuckle. "Regardless, peace on your nest, and I hope to see you around again. Good to see you doing well, Ravenstongue."