Hard Lessons

Log Info

• Title: Hard Lessons
• Emitter: Braelnoir
• Characters: Braelnoir, Aya, Cryosanthia, Ezil, Merek, Poc, Selia
• Place: A03 The Colosseum
• Time: Saturday, February 29, 2020, 10:19 PM
• Summary: The colosseum is having a day where challengers can take on summoned monsters, and spectators can bet on the winner. Braelnoir is finishing up a training session, not as a monster, when Ezil arrives. The two discuss the efficacy of her paws and training, when Aya shadowalks into their presence. This startles Braelnoir, whose reaction attracts Cryosanthia. Cryo is in the Colosseum looking for Azog, to see if any of her practice has netted improvemens, according to his machine. Merek flies in on Angel Wings. Poc arrives, still seeking Goblintown, and interested in Azog's machine once it is described. The shadowrealms are discussed, and Aya is in the process of describing her negative experiences as a Mul'neissa, when Selia suddenly appears amidst the group. This startles Cryo and Braelnoir, who are touchy about teleporters, and they remember they have things to do.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= A03: The Colosseum =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Crafted largely of stone, the Colosseum sits heavily in the midst of the district. Effectively a giant arena, seats form its sweeping sides like the forefront of a great stage. At its center is a stained, stone floor. Each end is overseen by the opposing statues of Kor and Angoron, their arms raised and each holding weapons in gestures of triumph. Staged at a crossroads, their stone gazes stand in eternal challenge over the battlefield floor. Angoron's statue appears to have something of a smirk, opposing Kor's dreadful scowl.

Construction here is on the massive scale. The Arena's stone form was carried piece by piece from the Redridge. Borne on the shoulders of ancient oruch and formed by the tireless hands of the khazad, it is second to none in ancient craftsmanship. Old tribal and clan symbols, nearly worn away, reveal themselves when blood and sweat pools in their minor crevices. Their unusual display brings to life, if only for moments, memories of warrior traditions past. It is for this reason the Arena serves as a diplomatic grounds for some cultures, as well as sport and competition.

Beneath the arena's stage are preparation rooms for competitors, and retiring areas for the wounded. Here, warriors are tended to by aids and medics, by coaches and priests. Tarianic laughter echoes from the chambers on the Angorite side. These unseen areas run alongside a cleverly, khazad-designed system to flood the arena's floor for certain performances. When flooded, the arena draws waters from the nearby Tornmawr. During these occasions anything is possible, as even the Nar-Sektoth have been known to visit from far off Am'shere, and display their powers beneath the gods' banners.

The encircling seats provide a grand view, while vendors often walk the aisle ways between, selling food or taking bets. Clear as blood is the single, red line drawn down the arena's center between the twin statues, daring an opponent to cross.

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

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Braelnoir    5'11"    246 Lb     Silver Chimera    Female    A rough and tumble brunette wielding a scythe and a feral grin.
Aya          4'7"     105 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing.
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.
Ezil         5'11"    175 Lb     Human             Male      An armored man with dark skin, and grey-blonde hair.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Poc          2'11"    34 Lb      Goblin            Male      A green goblin with pointed ears and woodland attire.
Selia        2'10"    35 Lb      Halfling          Female    A sleek halfling lass, quick and nimble.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The night finds a silver figure shrouded in shredded black leather and blood, both fresh and dried that gives her glimmering sheen an odd, mottled tint of brown and red under the provided light. Brae's forepaws are dark with blood, holding her wearily upright from the weary sprawl entwining her lower limbs, head hanging as she tries to get her breath again while several examples of spell components litter the ground near her as assorted casters are busy using their arcane summinings to provide practice targets, or blessings to restore fortitude to countless other martial sorts training under the stars.

Ezil had heard the noises, following the sounds and echos of combat into the Arena. With Braelnoir in such a state, he frowns, feet carrying him onto the sands from the access way he had come down. He is cautious, watching with his shield slung over his shoulder. Eyes flick over the varied forms that go about their training, gauging the situation with a narrowed glance. Once drawing near Braelnoir, he pauses a few feet away. "What did I walk in on?" he asks in a calm tone. "You okay?"

Braelnoir pants a short, breathless laugh and weakly nods her head, "Aye...aye...!" she gulps a deeper breath, then, "...jus'... just a li'l tired, luv..." Around the pair, a significant amount of various fluid humors, some of the sanguinary amongst them being Brae's own, wetly tinting the stained stone floor, while further out, assorted men and women spar, or engage in small team battles against larger summoned creatures. In the stands is some gambling, of course, and various others are being tended for incidental injuries by various interested clergy. "How're you...?" she asks, finally looking up at him.

"I'd suspect I'm faring better." Ezil's head shifting to one side as he looks Braelnoir up and down with a sigh. "Ah." his glance rising to go about the grounds with a huff of breath. "Hopefully it's for more than coppers, because you're a mess. What in the hells did you fight?" his smile breaking as he takes a step forward to offer a hand to help. "Want me to look at you? I can fix you up.... mostly." his tone finding a bit of warmth. "How much blood did you lose?"

Braelnoir another panted laugh, "W-which..." huff, "...time...?" She swallows and curls her paw over his hand to accept his aid to her proper footing, "'ssorted critters... wolves mostly... " She looks at the stains around her and exhales a somewhat proud little, "Kor...! Think w'made a mess."

Ezil nods. "Remind me not to pick a fight with them...or bears. Azog lost an uncle that way." trying to joke as he helps her to get that footing, looking at her face, and giving that paw a squeeze. "I can offer my healing. I got some bandages." his shield arm shifted as he lets the metal thing rest in the dirt. "If you aren't too prideful that is. I mean, men and women dig scars, so I don't want to take away your tankard talk." smirking wide.

Braelnoir laughs a little, "Not a lotta braggin' rights fer trainin, luv, b'all means." and lays her other paw atop his hand once she's up on her hooves again, "'got me more'n enough scars from honest warrin'. I graciously accept yer services." There are little wispy lines along her side or hip that didn't quite scale with her transformation, much as the symbol burned into her shoulder had not. She's had some magic used on her, but she's clearly been through the wringer, but seems in decent enough cheer over the matter, "What've you been up to?"

Ezil raises a brow at her explanation, but he doesn't make mention of the extent she's put herself through. With her paws on his hand, he simply nods. "Good. I am all for a scar or two, but... sometimes you wonder if someone likes the pain." winking with a grin. "I don't know which you are, but seeing you ruffed up isn't to my liking. Not like this." He doesn't bother to take his hand from hers, that touch being all he needs to call forth his magic, a warmth there that radiates from his touch, that's soon seeping slowly through Braelnoir. Sometimes it's good to have blessing, letting Althea's grace take those wounds away. "You should feel better in a moment."

Braelnoir exhales a long, sighing breath as whatever forces Ezil invokes wash away the pain from her assorted wounds, even magically treated, they still hurt unless you get them all, after all, "That's better, thanks Eezee." she says with a fond smile. She rolls her head to pop her neck a little, then, "Couple of m'old mates in the Stride got in deep like that... got into each other, too, an let it all get away from'm. Got septic. Lost'm, both."

Ezil blinks slowly, his glance showing the surprise on his face as his healing comes to an end. "That story took a wild turn. A lot like the one of Azog's uncle. Two for two today." he notes, suddenly bobbing his head. "I shouldn't be teasing if I didn't want the answer though." laughing as the shock of that discussion seems to begin to fade. "I suspect you might of done better if not transformed? Or are things easier?" he asks, taking his hand from hers slowly, looking over he paws before he lets go. "And why does everyone suddenly call me Eezee? Did you decide this behind my back, or is it a coincidence?" not upset, more puzzled.

Braelnoir nods, "Th'scales help a lot, but the claws, nice as th'are, only do so much at a time. I got paws like a lioness, but'm only a li'l better'n half their weight, I can only put so much oomph behind'em." She shrugs, "Need th'practice, though, unless I can get them t'close proper around a weapon." She blinks at the question and shrugs, "I'unno about everybody, I been callin' ya Eezee almost from th'start." Meanwhile, in the back of her mind: Teehee, influencer!

"I know, that's why I asked you." Ezil laughs, shaking his head. He leans, taking up his shield from where he set it in the sand. It's soon slung over his shoulder again. "I don't envy you the paws. I wouldn't know how to cope if I was suddenly changed. Mostly be depressed I think. I just recently liked being me." mirth in his tone while he looks back over those who still train this late. "So... some sort of club, or do I just come at the wrong times?"

The sounds of strife echo through the Colloseum, a number of martial sorts in singles or small groups engage in sparring matches, or battle creatures apparantly summoned my some of the casters milling around to that purpose, while others tend to any wounded that ensue. A Tsuran man is currently speaking to a silvery hooved being in shredded black leather attire.

Aya is likewise present in the sparring grounds... or, rather, above them. Perched atop an arch of stone, she looks down over those in practice, conversation, prepararion, or post-match tending.

Braelnoir has been here for hours, battling summoned critters much like some of the others, forced to fight with her (un)natural weapons, the chimera has struggled in places, but endured many bouts of combat before Ezil helped her get back on her feet after some much needed rest, they've been speaking quietly, since. She looks over the others at 'work' and shrugs, "Folks thought it seemed like a marvelous idea's all. Do... you know that cleaning spell, luv?" As that question emerges, her outfit returns to the one shouldered dress of undamaged black leather as she concentrates on her new toy.

A white-scaled sith-makar enters the Colosseum from one of the underground entrances. She wanders around the edges, looking over the practice groups, searching for someone she recognizes. She lingers to watch couples sparring. It's a big place, she hasn't spotted anyone familiar yet.

"No, I can't do what the White-One's gloves can." Ezil admits easily, shifting and looking back out to the arena's seating. His feet shift in the sands, his glance growing distant. "My answer would be a bath." shrugging with a light laugh as he notices those clothes clean themselves with that magic, eyes flicking back Braelnoir's way. "I would invest in one of those, but...." motioning to his armor. "It would do me little good."

The chimaeric one is certainly conspicuous amongst those gathered, and may well have draw Aya's eye more than once. The white-scale is another notable arrival, drawing her focus for a time before it returns to the two conversing. Aya then decides to relinquish her perch; with a brief, fading miasma of shadow, she ceases to be upon it and promptly exists in the vicinity of Ezil and Braelnoir, instead.

Braelnoir doesn't quite notice the White-One's entrance at first, as her focus is currently on her conversation, "My armor usually goes over m'clothes, luv. Best t'be fashionable when yer not fighting, dontcha- SHIT!" The chimerajukes away from the sudden presence that manifests nearby and brings her paws, digits flexed to extend her claws, up in a wary posture. She takes a breath, then lowers her armaments, "That's two...." she grumbles, recognizing the interestingly clad Mul'niessa from the other night.

Cryosanthia perks, hearing Braelnoir's shout of surprise, recognizing it. She looks around for the source, finally spotting the small group and heads their way. Drawing close, she hails, "Peace on your Nest, Braelnoir, Ezil."

Once close enough to talk easily she says, "I was expecting to find Azog, but am happy with this result. A friend of yours?" Cryo nods to Aya, vaguely recollecting her from the Fernwood, but not remembering directly serving her.

"Two?" Aya inquires of the varied-limbed one, one snowy brow arching. It then pans to the Sith and her head dips in greeting. "Unlikely," she offers in answer to the question. "Few would consider me such."

The Mul'niessa startles Ezi, skipping a step back from where he stands and his shield brought to bear. "What was that?!" his eyes going from Aya to Braelnoir, but as the other eases, he pauses. His hand hasn't gone for his weapon, but the sudden appearance of a third party has him on edge. Hearing Cryosanthia, he dares ast his glance towards the white Sith-Makar, but it doesn't last. His focus on Aya. "Am I missing something?" his calm taking a moment to return.

"Secon'person in a week t'just blink in next t'me." Brae answers, a little cross, and folds her forelimbs to... well, she folds them. She smiles, a touch strained, perhaps, to the sith as she arrives in a more traditional manner, "'ey, Cryo, how ya doin?" Her eyes return to Ezil on his question and, "She's in the Fern the other night."

GAME: Merek casts Angelic Aspect. Caster Level: 9 DC: 19

Merek is coming above the colosseum with his usual dark attire on, in addition to the scarf as well as the belt cape, his wings black and white like it was a Celestial's, then he begins to maneuver about to land a bit away.

"Oh." Cryo blinks, that was a strange answer. Still, she smiles and makes a small welcoming gesture in Aya's direction. "Peace on your nest, I'm Cryosanthia, a Speaker of the Sith-Makar. Cryo for short if you must. Nice to meet you."

It's then she picks up on Ezil's tension, Braelnoir being on edge. What she first suspected was combat footing, she sees as something else now. She takes a step back, wary, her hands lifting, legs bent ready to attack or run. She stares at the Mul'neissa, "A teleporter? From... where?"

Aya ahs at the explanation. "You must be a popular target, in that case." One lipcorner lifts in a half-smile. "I mean you no ill will," she offers to ease concerns. "If I did, I would not have announced my arrival and we would not be conversing." She then turns to the white Sith anew. "A pleasure."

Ezil lowers his shield, watching Aya still. "This woman is the teleporter." explaining to Cryosanthia as he motions to the Mul'niessa. "I am Ezil, Sentinel and follower of Telmentar. All-Friend." taking a moment to sling his shield back over his shoulder, and look about at the other's gathering, nodding to Merek whom seems to arrive too. "I am not used to such entrances." explaining, but not excusing his reaction.

Braelnoir shrugs again, "One way t'put it...." She finally relaxes the fold of her arms and sets a paw against her hip, "what brings you around, luv?" Catching Ezil's nod, she looks over her shoulder and spots a familiar set of wings, "'ey, Mer!"

Merek waves a bit to all of the people, Cryo, Brae, Ezil, and Aya, while he takes a moment to consider, "Well, it is a fun way." He smiles a bit, "You all are doing well?" he asks.

The white-scale sith relaxes somewhat, rising in her stance and placing her hands on her belt. Her head turns so she can watch Merek glide in. She's staring at his wings, then she answers his question, "This one is fine."

Cryo finds it very hard to look away from the Mul'neissa. She keeps watching her, and stays positionned so that Braelnoir and Ezil are between her and Aya. Her hands remain on her belt, her tail very neutral and still. With slight adjustments of her head, she looks at Braelnoir and Ezil, for some cues. Finally she asks generally, "What is your business here? I came looking for Azog to use his machine. Ezil, you were kicking Braelnoir's tail? And you Merek, did you come to train and wrestle? This isn't a place magic techniques are usually practiced. That is the fairground."

Aya does not appear to find the Sith's attention, nor her maneuvering, so unusual. "To study and train, not unlike any other," she answers. After a long eyeing in return, she exhales a sigh. "Your worries are unnecessary, Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-makar. Regardless of what the resident Brightscale may believe or share, I have more in common with the Scaled than they would care to recognize."

Ezil shakes his head to Cryosanthia. "I had hoped to find Azog myself. I found Braelnoir training instead." answering, but still watching Aya with an interest. "Not one for names, are you?" he asks bluntly of the Mul'niessa, but that's about all he says about it. A glance is spared for Merek and Braelnoir, offering a shrug.

Braelnoir hmm's softly, then, "Azog's got a machine?" she wonders, then, "Well, anyway. Had some... nasty business wi'teleporters in the past." There is a little cant of her head and she inquires, "Got a name?" of the Mul, edging to the side a smidge to make room for Merek to join their little knot of bodies.

On his quest to discover all of Alexandria, Poc has wandered many streets over the past two days. His wiry legs have carried him down alleyways, into public buildings, onto rooftops... and more! The green-skinned goblin had visited the temples (even dipped his toe in the fountains there), smelled the books in the library and of course eaten some fantastical foods the likes of which he had never seen before. So it's with a full belly does he enter the Colosseum with, his haughty yellow eyes staring wide from behind the wooden mask that sits over his face. This city had a knack for making him feel small(er), but this was truly something else. With his little longbow strapped around his shoulders, Poc just leans back to stare at the structure of stone.

Walking in with his head still canted high, it's mostly through coincidence does he spot someone, or rather, some colours through his periphery. "Hm?" He queries, before a wide smile broadens as he recognises some of the new friends he made just recently. With a hand lifting to wave, the diminutive creature makes way for them, sparing a glance to the other groups of people training as he does. "Hooiiii!" The friendly call is made as he gets close enough. "How new friends?" A look goes to Aya, naturally. She looked considerably different than most he has seen. "Me Poc. Who you?"

Merek makes his way into the group with the party, and nods a bit to Brae, then he looks to people, "I am just about to see what people are doing in practice."

The last comment of the Mul'neissa gets the sith's tail moving, a slow 's' curl back and forth behind her. Friends might recognize it as 'Cryo is thinking' or 'Cryo is curious'. 'Cryo feels like fanning her legs' is reserved for summer temperatures. She hasn't blinked and her sapphire eyes remain occupied with Aya, looking as cold as gemstones. "Well I'm curious now, are you dragon blooded like Merek?" She makes a brief wave in his direction.

An answer to Braelnoir is next, "Yes. He has an artifice machine which you strike for two minutes. It then calculates how many dragons as dangerous as you are, you would have killed with that effort. I think it is inaccurate, but it is some measure." Cryo says, without really looking away from Aya.

Finally, her head swivels between both casters, "So, no training then Merek? Well other one, what training did you have in mind? Do you want us to share our anti-spell caster techniques? I have only one, and it's very situational."

"You may call me Aya," she now grants as introduction, including the most recent arrivals. The gobber is glanced down upon, briefly, if only due to literal height differences. The only one she might, in the current gathering.

"I am familiar with Azog's machine. It is interesting, and useful, to a degree... and, no," she shakes her head to Cryosanthia, "I do not bear the blood of dragons."

"Braelnoir." the chimera returns, since the request for a name's been answered, then to the little goblin, "Hey Poc, how ya doin?" Brae's attention flits between her company as the discuss an... interesting gadget, anyway.

"Aya it is then." Ezil affirms, looking to Poc with a small smile as the tension seems to ease. Then with a huff. "And... Aya?" he asks. "How did you do that? I saw no magic... not like Merek. Where did you come from?" yes, that's what is on his mind. It seems it ruffled him a bit, but he's letting it go."

"Hallo, Poc. Did you ever make it to Goblintown?" he asks, looking between the party much like Braelnoir.

Merek nods a bit to people, while he blinks a bit thoughtfully, "Teleporting without magic, that's not possible, it'd need to be a bit of the innate magic at least, something like that."

"Good to meet Aya." Poc replies, looking up at her in a state of mild awe and wonder. "Aya hairy. Poc like it." A casual point goes to reference the mane of hair that she so proudly sports. His attention drifts to Cryo's statement about the 'dragon punching' machine, where he just tilts his head like a pup learning a new trick. "Azog must be smart." Poc declares. "That sound like complicated machine. So? How many dragons can Cryosanthia punch?" Poc looks about out at the group, keen to hear an answer on the others.

"Wait wait. Merek has DRAGON blood?" Poc has only been here for twenty-seven seconds and he's already heard a stack of amazing things. These guys were true adventurers! "How that work? Merek's Mum a dragon?"

Rounding on Ezil, the goblin shakes his head. "Poc lost map. Put it down to eat some food, turn around it gone! Poc think wind took it. Very breeze last night. Poc just exploring all of big city now. When find goblin town, will have good mental map." The plan sounds... okay-ish.

"Hi Poc, good to see you again." Cryo crouches down to greet the goblin. It brings her a lot closer to his height, but she still looms as there is no way she can fold her height down to under 3 feet. "Not many. Two, and I dislike the measurement unit. I don't know how Merek came by it, there's a lot I don't know. He'll have to answer you."

Bouncing back up again, she's still watching Aya, "You know Azog well? What is the similarity to the scaled we don't recognize then?"

"I did not teleport," Aya begins to explain, though pauses briefly at Poc's ... compliment(?). While her expression suggests that she's uncertain, she refrains from comment and continues, "and it is not magic in the typical sense. I traversed the Realm of Shadow to arrive where I wished, and far more quickly." To Cryosanthia, she nods. "I know the oruch more than some, not so well as others. As for the rest, I presume that you are familiar with the ... colorful history between your kin and mine?"

"I had a black dragon in the family a bit back," Merek mentions, then he nods to Aya, "Shadow walking, interesting. Though the place often is a bit... Well, I wouldn't travel it a lot."

"If my family had known how many of the Tales were true, they'd think The Vast tame." Ezil says, looking from Merek to Cryosanthia with a smirk. "The Shade is a popular one to scare children into bed. Let alone finding someone who can actually walk through shadows." mirth in his tone as he takes a step back, and gives Aya a bit of berth. Maybe it's the Tales, maybe it's respect. Hard to tell. "Shades don't really kill children though. Not in the Tales. Just take them to become shades themselves."

GAME: Selia rolls stealth: (13)+32: 45

"ShadowRealms is a bit like Charn, da place ain't all dat bad, and most blokes is alright, but dem wot be in charge is nasty buggers." Selia comments idly. The tiny halfer's accent is... thick. Mostly Low Charn common, with a bit of Undercommon, a smattering of Chant, and just enough of something exotic to make it quite odd. The dancer's hands flutters as she talks, not quite HandSpeech, but adding shades of meaning to those who know it. "Anyways, 'o's da new bloke?" she peers at Poc with curiousity.

Of course, the little lutch didn't bother to let anyone know she was here until she spoke up... hard to say how long she's been listening. Sneaky little halfer.

Poc seems thoroughly honoured and even a touch bemused when Cryosanthia bends down to get as close to his level as possible. A wiry hand will reach up to give her a light pat on the forehead in thanks, before watching her stand back up. "Cryosanthia must be very strong. /Two/ punches only to fell dragon? Poc never seen dragon before - but dragons big, right? Breathe fire. And ice." The goblin flaps his arms a bit in addition, indicating that they can fly as well. Aya's explanation of how she arrived here earns a perplexed look, though he doesn't say much about it. "Realm of Shadow? How Aya get there?"

"Black dragon?" Poc repeats the statement in a somewhat questionable tone. "...Poc think that awesome." The gobber quivers a bit at the mention of shades and children being stolen.

With all this talk of shadows and children being kidnapped, Poc nearly /jumps out of his skin/ when Selia speak up! "Waugh!" He cries, whirling about in fright to look up at the halfling. Once realizing his embarrassing error, he stammers a bit. "I-uh, me Poc! King Goblin of Forest. Definitely not afraid of shadows." Ahem. "Who you?" Adjusting some of the wraps on his arms, the gobber puts hands on his hips.

"Very familiar." The white-scale crosses her arms, scratching at them. She doesn't elaborate further.

Merek's response gets a laugh from her, "I should have known you would know about shadows. And the more I think about you having a dragon in your family, the less I want to know. I can't imagine any pleasant way that occurs."

Then Selia speaks up, somehow traversing a flat colosseum field without drawing any attention, then lurking undetected for ages. She might as well have teleported in, and Cryo reacts as if she has.

"YARRRRGGH!" She jumps immediately behind Selia with her claws out, or would have if she didn't slip and fall in place on some ice on the floor. She is a jumble of limbs, then unfolds herself and stands up. "This one is due on Shift. Peace on your Nests."

She immediately stalks off.

"Well, she married into the family," Merek nods a bit to Cryo, then looks to people while he thinks about it, "Interesting conversation," he says, then blinks at the sith-makar with a wave!

Braelnoir snorts at the shades MO, "Sounds familiar." she murmurs. She looks around at the people and, "I should get back'n get all this blood off." She lifts a paw to her brow in a sort of lazy salute that becomes a wave, and she trots off after Cryo, "Later all!"

Aya turns to look to the recently-revealed lucht. "I prefer the darkness to Charn. At least there the threats are more conscpicuous." She turns back to the Sith to answer the question with that context, only to find jittery one...s have departed. "Well, then."

Ezil jumps again, dropping his shield as he scrambles away from the Lucht. "Twice!" he yelps, his eyes on the new small-one. "Why! Why do people do this?!" he clamors, with a hearty sigh. "I...." his words failing him as he looks between Merek, Poc, and those now seeming to depart. Yes, what a strange night.

Selia jumps a bit herself. Jittery dragon creaters are a little more scary when they're ten times your size. As Cryo departs, the lutch relaxes, and nods to Aya. "Agreed. Da Lands ain't nice, but is better 'n Charn any day o' night." She nods to Poc, offering a simple and easily understood handshake.... easily understood by most local cultures, at least. "Selia. Selia Shadowkin, I's a Dancer." She peers to Ezil with big lutch eyes. "It ain't east bein small, ya knows. Ya try ta git even da basic scraps o' attention, but is a big world, made fer big folk. We'd little ones don't like ta git overlooked, but is just da way o da world..." She might sniffle a little there at the end...

GAME: Merek rolls craft/cartography: (14)+8: 22

Merek looks between the people, noticing that two of his friends are on their way, and it feels a bit crowded. He is maneuvering to Ezil to keep about him, perhaps not liking the crowd of people, nodding a bit to Selia, he's not met the woman! He does look to Poc, "I will make you a new map," he says, then begins writing that up, this time not into the mountains!

As a couple of people suddenly make their departure, Poc lifts a hand to wave them off appropriately. "Be well." Turning to look back at Selia, squinting at what she says. "Good to meet Selia. Dancer? What kind of dances can Selia show Poc?" The follow-up about how this is a big world for the big folk, along with her sniffle, causes him to 'pfffffft'. "Poc no care how big world is. Will see all of it!" When the map is getting drawn up again, the gobber practically bounces with some excitement. "Thank-you, Merek! Such good friend. Maybe can draw on map where Guild is as well?" Poc beams a smile to Ezil. "Ezil tell Poc about Guild. Poc wants to join. Make a lot of money."

Dramatis Personae

Aya
This Mul'niessa stands proudly upright, regardless of how tall her four and one-half foot stature fares compared to those around her. Her flesh is a median medium grey, with a hint of blue, though may appear darker in contrast to alabaster hair. Though lengthy, her mane is firmly kept against her scalp, between her dagger-like ears, and down her back in rows of small braids that themselves weave into a large tail hanging down her spine.
She is dressed simply in a triangular, tapered wrap of white cloth that forms an angled hemline between left knee and right thigh, crosses at the small of her back, again across her chest, and completes around her neck with an off-center knot. Additional wraps of fur cover arms and legs when the climate demands it, and a subdued gray cloak keeps wind and rain away as needed. Around her neck is a small mithrail chain that weaves together in a pattern to form a pendant at her throat out of its own length. Pinned to the fabric at her left shoulder is a platinum floral broach.