Nothing to Sneeze At

Log Info

• Title: Nothing to Sneeze At
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Vaera, Tawyse
• Place: Mictlan
• Time: December 27th, 2021
• Summary: Just within the protective climate wards of Mictlan, Skielstergar is felling trees marked for harvest. Though, he's languid for some reason or another. Vaera comes by, and they start to head towards the shamans at her behest. Though, he warns he feels that something is coming, and- after a film of inky misama covers him- the Warrior doubles in height! Many questions are asked between the two makari, Tawyse flying in as a bird to inspect the shenangians. The gnome reverts to her normal self and sits on his nose as they try and figure out what is going on. Though, Skiel sneezes and launches Tawyse into the snow, her suffering a knocked head and a broken arm. The effect fades, Vaera sets the arm and heals it with some magics, and they all head to the shamans to get a proper check-up.

Outskirts of Mictlan, Noon.

Icy winds and snow become warm breezes and spattering of rain as it clashes against the protective ward of Mictlan's Dragon Bones. As much as the community was modeled after that lands it came from, still it was surrounded by forests, some trees thriving in the near constant climate.

Which was prime lumber to be felled.

On the outskirts of Mictlan was a tarnished bronzescale, the large and imposing figure hefting an axe and crashing it against the side of a tree. This was a fresh one, him not even two cuts in thus far before needing to rest against another tree and press his fingers into the bridge of his nose. Clad in his tunic and pants, and nothing more, he gives a foggy sigh and scratches at his arm, a few tiny tarnished scales flaking off.

The wood inside of the border was easier to be cut down, and welcome to be gathered, and there was always a need to keep the fires burning within the camps. So the work was not unwelcome, either.

Vaera had already made her rounds out in the forest, as she often did. This leads her back to the village proper, with several ducks in a row, strung up over one shoulder, well she was dressed in leathers more common to Am'shere.

"That is a long sigh, Skielstregar." Vaera notes when she is close enough. "Surely you are not tired already?"

Skiel peers from over a hand, him shifting his weight to a back foot to rest against a tree. "Ahh.... Vaera. Peace on your nest," he rumbles warmly. He flicks his fingers, ridding whatever debris was on there. "This one is... embarrassingly, tired somewhat already. They are not certain what the issue is. They have been eating well... do they need to eat more...?" he speculates, holding a hand up and flaring his talons out.

As Vaera passes by the man, she would note that he was normal.

Wait. No acrid scent of death or decay. No uneasy aura. It was just Skielstregar.

"Did all that gathering for the nesting catch up...?" he idly wonders.

"You have been eating well, I think the extra bacon has helped in that regard." Vaera chuckles. Though she does sniff at the air, and smiles to Skielstregar. "You smell better today, so that is something of note, perhaps different. Perhaps you should come with this one, and see if the shamans should check up on you? I do not wish for it to be a concern not dealt with promptly."

Skiel blinks. "... what?" He inspects himself, inhaling, but soon realizes the folly of trying to identify one's self. "... huh. This is... new," he murmurs. The man steps fowards towards Vaera, him resuming pinching his brow. "Yes. This one has a headache out of no where."

"Yes, it is, different." Vaera nods, and chuffs, reaching to offer an arm to the much larger bronze makari. "Come, we will see what the shamans have to say, perhaps they can prepare some medicine for your headache?"

"This one is sure things will be alright, but it can not hurt to figure it out now."

Skiel takes the arm, him carefully putting ome weight on it. "Yes, let's see what the shamans have to say. This is strange for this one to feel so-"

He buckles, falling to a knee. The deathly scent starts to leak from him, visibly this time, black ichor dripping from between his tarnished scales. "... ugh... Vaera... what is...?" he murmurs, holding the side of his head. "... this one feels like... something... is... there..."

Vaera was in the midst of picking up the tarnished makari when they buckles, and they struggle a bit under the weight, until the hunter is pulling him back to his feet. "I do not know, but the scent is back. And, I do not mean to alarm you, but there is something going on. Just push past it as you have before. We should go to see the shamans now, and not delay. I can bring them here if needed."

Skielstregar staggers back to his feet with the help of the hunter. His face contorts a bit, worry joins with the death scent. "Oh.. let's... get going. And.."

The man halts. And he clutches at his chest. "... Vaera. Get back. This one is unsure... something is... is..." The black ichor starts to coat him like ink.

Vaera stops, and looks over and down at Skielstregar when he halts. Her expression is unreadable, but she sets Skielstregar down as gently as possible with a modicum of haste, before she steps back to regard him. "I will be right back with the Shamans. Do not give in to whatever magics are pulling at you. You have stopped it before, and will do so again." She offers, turning to find the path back to Mictlan.

Skielstregar goes down to a knee once more as he's let down. "... this one... not giving in... they... a.. ah...!" The ink covers him completely.

And the inky form starts to swell. There's a rumbling groan coming from the miasma, him stumbling about and leaving black ichored footprints in his wake. He grows more. His shadow elongating. Higher and higher he goes. Nine, ten, eleven. Fourteen feet up.

His steps stagger, shaking the ground and rustling the trees.

There's a very anticlimactic sound of a large bubble going 'pop!'.

And the black ink falls off him and evaporates. What's left is... Skielstregar.

A very, very big Skielstergar.

"... Vaera, the... headache is gone," he speaks, his voice amusingly a whole octave lower and thrice as loud as he's too busy rubbing at his eyes.

Vaera turns back as the noise seems to grow, and the black ichor seems to increase in size.

She Looks up, and puts a hand over her eyes. "You are, alright then?" She asks. "Despite what was just happening?"

He was not expecting Vaera's voice to come from /below/.

He pulls his hand away, and... he blinks. Skiel takes a lumbering step back, his head clonking and cracking a tree branch. "Ow..." he rumbles, looking where he went before his head lulls to look down.

".... Vaera...?" he says aloud, then squints. "... t-this one is big, but not... that... big... uh... yes. This one is... hale.."

Then, he just says it. "What in the everloving scales is this?"

"Easy, you are, this one does not know what happened, but watch your head." Vaera warns, stepping back so she needed to crane her neck much less. She blinks, and shakes her head.

"This one is no shaman and can say with little certainty what happened. But you are alright? That blood from before is gone?" She asks, peering at Skielstregar, which took much longer than usual.

Skielstregar nods slowly, taking care to not bump his head into anymore branches. He carefully moves forward, a hand resting on the tree that he chopped at earlier. He checks himself, finding no trace of the inky ichor from before. "... there is no more," he answers back. "They feel... a little tired. Sort of like when they become the Forgotten kin, and exhaust that."

He kneels down slowly, until he was sitting on his legs so he could quarter his height. "... did... did the taint do this?" he ponders, looking at his hands there were now just under half the size of Vaera.

"You are, that was, shhaaa." The red makari chuffs, and she closes her eyes again to process what just happened.

"You are very large." She states. "If that was whatever shaman Un'eth spoke about, it is possible? It is some form of magic, and it seems to have had effects on your body before."

Skielstregar takes a moment to breathe, him resting his weight against the tree with a stiff arm. "... it... could be. Yes. It could be magic."

A pause. Then a rumble. It shakes the earth faintly from his deep chuckle. "... this one... can.. do magic...!" he whispers (it's more like a wind speaking firmly), grins a bit widely, and he lifts his hands in a cheer. "Phenomenal!"

His massive arm smashes against the tree.

The tree cracks, splinters from where the axe hit it earlier, and falls away from the duo.

The massive makarai blinks, then rubs his neck. "... oops..."

"Easy, Skielstregar." Vaera warns again as the much larger than usual makari snaps a tree in half with his movement. Though she does chuckle just a bit. "You can, but, you were not aware of doing so? If this is related to your condition, I would advise against any further magic until we speak to the Shaman."

"At least, for now you are alright, if a bit large. That is good." The red makari sighs

A noisy crow flies by overhead, circling above the two Sith. It alights upon Skiel's left shoulder, and caws at him several times, before noticing a loose thread on his tunic. It busies itself pulling at it.

Skiel looks to his accidental destruction, and embarassment comes from him. He reaches over, easily lifting the log with a hand and carefully nudging it out of the way. "This one just was not... aware of what that sensation was. It was... new. If it is related... then shouldn't this one use it like the other transformation? Let it out, so to speak?"

He looks to his hands, then smirks lightly. "...this /is/ good... This one feels.... strong."

The bird landing on him gets his attention, and he's about to gently shoo it away. But its mannerisms, give him pause. "Tawyssse?" he speaks once more, his voice an amusing octave lower than before and thrice as loud. "Uh.. hello. Thissss one isss fine, don't worry..."

"This is, it may be different. Acting without knowing what you are doing, it is unwise." Vaera sighs. "Feeling strong is good, but not at risk to yourself Skielstregar. And this one saw the effect it had on you before."

She looks up to the raven, and blinks. "I do not know what Tawyse has to say on the matter, if that is her. But if it is, then greetings, druid, it is good to see you? Please be careful with his clothes, I do not wish to have to mend them too often."

"It is a good thing your clothes are sized for you now, still. It seems everything on you was increased in size, as well."

The black bird caws at the hand raised up, and it flaps its wings, alighting atop his head. A few moments later, Tawyse huffs. "Why are you fifteen feet tall, Skiel? And destroying trees?" The Gnome tsks.

Clinging to one of his horns, she peers down at Vaera, and waves, grinning brightly.

"I am able to mend his things also. Both in spell and the old fashioned way." She giggles and moves forward to lay along Skiel's snout, and pats at his nose.

Skiel gives a light sigh. Though it rustles the branches in front of him. "Very well. Thisss one will... ensssure not to do it again before he gets checked out."

The bird landing on his head, followed by a gnome appearing and holding onto his sapling thick horn for support makes him hold his posture. "... ah, Taw, thisss one isss.... sssorry. Thisss, um, jussst happened out of no where, and they stumbled into a tree. Thisss tree was marked felling anywayssss..." he carefully flicks a finger at a wood cutting axe nearby. He blinks as there's a gnome on his snout, and he goes stock still. "... Tawyse.... pleassse be careful..."

The patting makes him sniffle. Then sniffle again. Is... he about to sneeze?

The red makari waves back, much lower down than Tawyse was at the moment, which was a strange feeling. "Please do, Skielstregar. I do not know if this size increase is permanent, either."

The twitching snout and sniffling does not go unnoticed, and Vaera jogs over to hold out her hands. "You may wish to vacate your perch before you are forcibly removed. I will catch you, do not worry about that."

"Just happened out of nowhere? You just suddenly octupled in size?" The Gnome squints and casts a curious gaze around. "Maybe some apprentice is playing pranks on people? This is known to happen sometimes. I'll switch their behind with a willow branch if I catch them." Tawyse frowns.

She peers down at Vaera and giggles. "It's okay, I'll be fine." Taw proceeds to rub at his nose once more. "It is kind of neat to have a giant Sith-makar friend, though."

Skielstregar rumbles deeply. "Thisss one... doesssn't think it isss permanent? It feels.. fleeting, somewhat? It iss hard to explain, similar to that of being... transsformed."

The redscale gave the warning. And Skielstregar tries to get Tawyse off of snout in time. But then his head suddenly jerks to the side and-

>>aaaAA-CHOO!<<

The blast of air snaps branches next to him.

Vaera squints, and shakes her head. "You are inciting him to sneeze and send you flying." She states, but the hunter finds herself unable to do much to stop them at the moment. "This one thought he was giant enough before, but ah, yes, it is certainly interesting, and good it is not permanent."

And then the giant skielstregar sneezed, Vaera reflexively covering her face while she is blown about by the sheer force of it.

The Gnome is in the act of dodging the hand reaching for her, and she squeaks as she's suddenly flung a distance into the air. Tawyse /paffs/ into the snow, outside the bounds of Mictlan, leaving a Gnome shaped hole.

Skielstregar wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, him looking about and seeing Vaera blocking her face. "Vaera?"

There was gno gnome to be seen. "... Tawyse...?" he hazards, sounding worried, looking about from where he was. He sits up straighter, the vantage point letting him spot the hole in the snow a bit away. Carefully, he moves towards the bounds of Mictlan, trees bending and groaning as he tries to slide past them. "Tawyssse! Are you okay?" he asks loudly.

Vaera was fine, if a bit disheveled from the sneeze. She uncovers her eyes and her snout. She looks over to here she saw a gnome sized hole in the snow, and she quickly jogs over to it, peering over and into it, and helping the druid out if needed. She stepped to the side, making sure that Skielstregar could still see. "You are lucky that the ground is covered in snow. That would have been much worse if it was not. You did not hit your head, or hurt yourself, did you?"

Tawyse pops up out of the hole, looking a little woozy. She grins. "I'm okay!", she yells, and attempts to wave to the two Sith. Her arm is quite obviously broken, and she yelps in pain, falling back into the snow. "I'm not okay!", she yells, sounding a little off.

Skielstregar sighs in relief, stirring up some latent snow at the border. But that relief soon folds in on itself as sheer guilt and worry flood from him. "A-Ah...! Tawyse!"

He looks down to Vaera. "Thiss one will get a splint," he says quickly, him moving through the forest once more, this time shouldering trees. Some crack slightly. One fells. But he grabs that one and lowers it to the ground. Sharp talons stab into it and rip, tearing the fresh lumber down until he gets some foot long slabs.

The massive makari returns, him lowering a massive hand out that contains the rough wood to be used. And just as he does. Black ichor stars to leak from between his scales. "... thisss one... thinksss it isss.... ending soon," he warns.

"Honestly, Tawyse." Vaera sighs, the red makari shaking her head as the gnome pops out of the snow. "No sudden movements, please. Give me a moment, to set the arm so I can heal it."

She looks over at the noise to find several lengths of wood, and she takes one of them, and a hatchet from her bag, to begin stripping the lumber to smooth out the surface and rough edges.

"I just need a hand..." The Gnome takes a breath. "To straighten my arm." She blinks, peering at Skiel. "Uhm. Skiel? You're leaking." Taw looks up at the sky. "Aren't all the starflakes pretty?"

Skiel hands over the the wood carefully, him setting it down. His attention shifts to Tawyse, then he weakly chuckles, shaking his head. "... thisss one thinksss you have hit your head asss well..."

The black, deathly ichor begins to seep more, it dripping and vanishing onto the ground. And it soon envelops the entire large makari. His form shirnks. Down. Down. Down... to his normal sized self.

The inky black bursts with a light 'pop', and it vanishes into a black miasma that wafts away.

Normal sized Skiel is back. "... we need to take you to the shamansss once Vaera sets your arm."

Vaera looks around for something, and after a moment, she pulls off her leather top, which is offered to the gnome. "Bite down on this for the pain. And heed my advice this time." She states, before she probes around the broken arm for a moment, pulling and pushing the limb back into place. She chants something that sounds relatively druidic, or at least primal in origin, which quickly speeds along the recovery of the bone.

"We can bring her to the shamans if Tawyse wishes." She replies to Skielstregar, watching the transformation properly this time while catching her breath.

"Aww, you got smaller.", the Gnome says, eyeing the inky blackness as it vanishes. "All that stuff that leaked out is gone." Her nose wrinkles as she's handed leather to chew on.

But she does bite down at least, and then screams as the bone is set back into place. There'll be permanent teeth marks in that top.

"No shamans.", she mumbles after spitting the leather out. "I'll be fine..."

Skielstregar is about to say something further, but the words die out of his maw as Tawyse lets rip a cry of genuine pain.

That certainly didn't sear itself into his memory.

The once-large-but-still-large man fidgets with his hands. A lot of guilt pouring out of him. "... t-thisss one... really thinksss you... you should be ssseen by sssomeone..." he murmurs quietly, staring at the set arm.

GAME: Vaera refreshes spells.

"I do not smell that bad, do I?" The red makari chuffs after she takes back the top and turns to see Skielstregar. "Her arm is not broken anymore, but I know not how much of the injury still lingers. How are you feeling, Tawyse?"

"I'm a drood. I can heal myself up, but Vaera has done a good job. No need to waste your shaman's time, or spells, or to disturb them.", she says, the colour slowly returning to her face. "Skiel, don't feel badly, it was not your fault. And in the end, there's no harm done."

She eyes Vaera. "Thank you both for helping me, and for your spell, Vaera."

"Besides... that was definitely a sneeze world record of some kind."

Skielstregar looks off to the side, rubbing his arm. "... if.. you sssay so..." he murmurs quietly. Unsure, and unconvinced. A few tarnished scales flake off from his itching.

A weak, nervous chuckle leaves him. "... perhapsss. It wasss a mighty one."

"Well, if you do not need a splint, then I shall use this lumber for firewood later." Vaera chuffs, taking a step back and gathering up the lumber. "You are welcome, Tawyse, though I would urge care in the future. Even if it was interesting to see. You could give Skielstregar a hug to test it, see the range of movement. And I think he could use one right now."

The Gnome bounces up to her feet, wobbles a step or two, and then grabs onto Skiel's tunic, pulling herself close. The hug that follows is about as far as she can stretch her arms.

"There, is that better?", she wonders, mumbling into his tunic.

Skielstregar blinks as he's given a hug, him carefully returning it with a single arm. Though, he pulls back some, dead silver eyes squinting to inspect Tawyse's head. "... alright..." he mumbles.

He really, really doesn't like hurting his friends.

"I am glad your arm is okay, Tawyse." Vaera sighs, seeing no sign of hidden pain from the gnome. Only from herself, despite it being her own suggestion. "I am sorry. I understand your excitement for being capable of magic. But all those changes, seeing you exhausted beforehand, it was worrying."

"Did you wish to see my arm?", the Gnome wonders, beginning to loosen the leather that girds her arm. "If it would make you feel better?"

She pauses, and peers at Vaera a moment. "Oh? He did that spell himself?" Tawyse grins. "That's awesome!"

Skiel shakes his head. "Thisss one will take your word for it," he holds up a hand, him slowly rising to his feet.

He rubs his neck, looking off to the side. "... thisss one thinksss... it wasss a spell. Or... ssssomething the affliction gave them. They are not sure. They will likely need to go to the shamanssss to make sssure nothing is remissss."

"I feel as if I am being led to believe I am wrong for not being happy about this." Vaera sighs. "But ah, yes. If it is okay, then I would be happy about it."

She works on pulling her top back on, and nods. "We can get going, if you are ready, the both of you. It is not far from here, to the wards, and village proper."

"It's probably best if I stay, it's quite cold, it'd be safer to go in the morning.", the Gnome says. "May I stay with you two, tonight?"

Skielstregar looks to Vaera, then shrugs. "Thisss one doesss not mind. Though, their camp isss outssside of Mictlan. We will spend sssome time with the ssshamans, then head there."

He offers a hand. "Here, you can ride on thissss one'sss shouldersss again. But pleassse, lisssten next time if that happensss once more."

Regardless if she takes the offer or not, the man turns, looks to the felled trees, and rubs at his face. "... thisss one will get them tomorrow..."

He sets off, leading the two, and rubs at his arm. Some more tarnished scales flake off, and pepper the snow.

-End Scene-