Death Experiences and Friends

Log Info

• Title: Death Experiences and Friends
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Harkashan, Rune
• Place: Fernwood Pub
• Time: March 6th, 2023
• Summary: After a mission to the sewers, Harkashan and Rune stop by the Fernwood for a bite to eat. They run into Skielstregar, who's busy trying to stack plates. The Deathsinger uses some magics to ascertain a fact that Skiel admits: the silverscale is partially undead. This confounds both of them, with Rune further confused by his halberd speaking to her. He shares a bit of his story, which in turn gets Rune to share hers before Skiel offers to escort them back to Mictlan, as well as show them where they could wash the rank off. Sewer missions, an adventurer's most hated venture.

Fernwood Pub, Late Morning

Winter is in full retreat. The doors to the Fernwood are propped open to let a crisp, cool near midday air suffice the near empty space. Between breakfast and lunch, a lull in patrons makes it a perfect time to clean and restock.

Amongst the establishment is that of a massive silver scaled makari. Clad in armor with a lizard-like beasthead strapped to his shoulder, he's finishing up a plethora of dishes set out on the bartop. Large hands and large talons moving emptied, tiny plates in an attempt to stack them up. It's a difficult endeavor.

One that his halberd seems to watch on, standing on its own beside him. "Why isssn't... thessse made of wood..." he rumbles to himself quietly. Don't drop any.... don't... drop any...

Stepping into the establishment alongside his common traveling companion, Rune, Harkashan ducks his head under the door's entry a bit. He may not be as tall as the likes of the silvren Makari - but he's got enough horns to pay particular care. Once he's slipped into the door and has closed it behind him, he continues to step inwards. He doesn't bother dusting himself off. Unlike the humans, to which the snow seems to cling, it just drips like water off of his scales and armor.

At least it's not quite as busy as it was here the last time he and Rune were here. He's about to take the nearest table when he pauses for a moment. Rune might notice the way his tail halts, and his head tilts up. Sith-makar are not /that/ common, so it's not unexpected for Harkashan to have a certain reaction to them. But there's still a certain stillness to him that Rune normally doesn't see in him. This hesitation. A decision being made in his head. Then, movement.

Stepping forward, moving around towards the beasthead-carying Makari, and settling in next to him. Notinv the damaged Halberd, he offers; "Peace upon your nest, Skielstregar. Do you require assistance in repairing your weapon?" He then motions aside for Rune to join at his side at the bar, in case she was feeling uncertain, while he settles in next to his fellow kin.

Unlike her Makari companion, Rune is not quite so immune to the weather and she takes a moment to tap her boots off and shake a bit of moisture off of her cloak before stepping inside. A look of relief forms on her features, seemingly thankful that it isn't nearly as packed as the last time. She looks that much smaller next to Harkashan, and even more so with the even more daunting height of silver-scaled Sith-Makar.

"Looks like there's plenty of tables." She steps forward, heading towards one, but quickly realizes that Harkashan isn't moving. It's one of those moments where a person just stands there, looking back and forth between two people, not quite fully understanding what might be at play between them. "So, you two know each other." It's a statement, rather than a question. "Not too surprising, I guess."

Rune inclines her head to Skielstregar, "Peace to your nest." She offers, followed by a curious tilt of her head, "Interesting pauldron you have there." She is likely speaking of the beast-head upon his shoulder. There is some measure of interest, perhaps other questions she might ask, but for the moment, the Half-sil just follows her larger companion, eyes watchful.

Come on... eighth plate... clink! Aha! Skielstregar grins as much as a makari can, him putting his hands on his hips, tail swaying happily. "That wasss much harder than it needed to be-"

He inhales. Quirks at the scent. Looks to their side. Back to the plates- doubletake! "Ack! D-Deathsssinger-" He bumps the bar, which makes the plates teeter. Awkwardly, he hugs the stack to keep it from clattering and breaking.

That usual, faint waft of death remains near him to the other makari, but at present, quite a bit of embarrassment. "P-Peassse on your nessst, Ssshaman Harkashan. Erm. Thisss one appreciates the offer, but Malefic isss hale and whole."

There's a faint metal creak and whine, and the split on the halberd widens like a jagged, metal grin.

Skiel fixes the stack, him looking over his shoulder. "Oh! Erm..." He scratches his cheek. "Rue... Ru... Rune? Rune! Peassse on your nessst. Erm, yesss, we know each other. And thank you! It isss a cryohydra."

He looks between the two of them. "... how are you two?"

There's a long rumble from Harkashan as the silverscale starts hugging the plates for dear life. "It is a bit late to start preparing for Fimbulwinter. Hibernation may no longer be an option." He remarks in regards to the rather impressive stack of plates, as he gets his rump settled in. His tail shifts and slithers around the center of the wooden stool, as it creaks a bit beneath the weight of the armored Sith-makar.

There's whispers beneath his tone, followed by motions of his fingers. Rune might recognize the motions. They are the exact same he used when he met her for the first time again on the road. The same words. The same motions, followed by this subtle 'trum' in the air for just a moment.

He then speaks; "I am glad your weapon is... okay." He raises his brow, noting the jagged metal 'grin' widening as it does. He then looks to Rune for a moment, then to Skielstregar. "Wait, what do you mean not surprising?" Having just caught onto that.

He then turns back to the dead-eyed one and answers; "I am... fresh from a patrol in the sewers last day." That is a good answer to 'how are you' in his mind.

As the pile of plates look as if it is about to topple, Rune takes a half step in the direction of Skielstregar, but it seems that he manages to keep the stack from falling over, she lets out a soft breath, seeming to relax slightly. What does draw her attention is that motion of Harkashan's fingers. Oh, the look she gives him in that moment. "Will you stop that? Most people don't take kindly to random spells being waggled their way." The girl wiggles her fingers rolls her eyes.

"That's right. It's good to see you again." Rune's lips form into a gentle smile. "Should I ask why you're wearing a cryohydra as an accessory?" While she has spent a great deal of time around Markari, there are still times the half-sil doesn't know if something is a cultural thing with them, or just an individual's own eccentricities.

As for the question, Rune shrugs. "I thought you were pretty famous. That whole Death-Singer thing. One who'd run hundreds of death rituals and all that." She explains, remaining standing for the time being, likely as it makes her feel less tiny compared to the other two, "Two things bring people together, weddings and funerals."

Skielstregar can't help but chuckle at that, a rumble in chest as he finishes catching the falling plates. "Sssa. No more Fimbulwinter. And here they enjoyed sleeping int he snow.

The motions get the silverscale to quirk his head to the side, dead eyes tracking the movements. He's puzzled, not recognizing the magics. He shifts on his taloned feet. He too looks at Rune. Blinks. "Erm... yesss. Pleassse be careful with sssuch random magicsss. But-" to Harkashan, "-thisss one'sss weapon and them have thingsss they are figuring out."

Malefic keeps its grin.

Skiel winces. "Ugh. Sssoftssskin sssewersss is terrible for kin noses. Thiss one iss sssorry," Skiel laments, seemingly knowing how that is like. To Rune, he proudly stands up straighter. "Thisss one helped slay one! They like the way it looksss!"

From the grinning weapon, metal groans and clinks, a rumbling, growling voice intones, "Trophy."

"Trophy!" he adds. "But, ah, thisss one only met the Deathsssinger once in the woodss. They do not know them from Am'ssshere," he scratches his head. "It isss hard to remember home."

Harkashan lets out this huff of a sound from his muzzle, pale steam rising for a moment. Just wisps of it, playing against the remnants of cold that dare get into the tavern. "In some matters, it is better to be safe than sorry." He answers her with this deeply grave tone - suggesting that this is somehow different from the last time. From when he cast this near her.

He erects his posture then, and his look at Skielstregar turns into one of worry and concern. Of course, Skiel has seen the way in which the Deathsinger has looked at him before. But there's something more there now. Not quite recognition, but...

This deep gutteral growl of concern within him. Not growing 'at' Skiel, but rather, an elevated emotion internal to him. He doesn't wish to speak over Rune while she's asking his kin questions. Instead, he turns back to Rune for a moment as she gives a completely reasonable reason for him to perhaps know Skiel. "And in this side of the world, coin." He adds.

Then, he leans in, and his nostrils flare.

"You smell of death." A statement. An accusation. Timed with Skielstrager's claim that it is hard to remember home.

He then slowly draws back. There is no hatred behind his tone. He has learned that Skielk has his own history. He isn't looking to see if this person before him is 'good' or 'evil'. A glance at the axe, then back to Skiel.

It may be rather rude. But it's very clear the Deathsinger has reason for concern. "It is almost like the scent of the Snatching Wyrm~ why?"

"We were supposed to head back to the inn to wash up, but this one insisted that he was hungry and wanted to stop off here first." Rune explains, folding her arms across her chest as if she didn't quite agree with Harkashan's priorities. "You know that /we/ probably don't smell great right now, either, right?" The half-sil doesn't quite have the same nose for such things as the Death-Singer.

What is somewhat unsettling, however, is that grinning weapon and the strange voice that seems to come from it. "Did... your weapon just talk?" This may be the first time Rune has encountered such a weapon. Stare.

It takes a moment before she attempts to shake off the confusion, "It's... an impressive kill, that's for certain. We were contracted to kill some Garden Oozes, so nothing nearly in that sort of league."

She looks between the two, "I'm going to go get myself a drink and get this one some food before his stomach starts growling louder than he is." Looking to Skiel, "Do you want anything?"

Skielstregar's dead eyes nictacte, him leaning back as Harkashan draws close. The silver scale is cold. Scent of despair, death, and a building anxiety. His maw clacks at half formed words. He rolls his shoulders and stands his ground. "Thisss one... sssmellsss of the Death-Eater, yess. And they apologize for it." No reason to lie to the Deathsinger. "But... your assumptionsss are correct, Ssshaman. Thiss one issn't alive. But they are not dead either. Pleassse, do not be concerned. Thisss one isss safe," he tries to allay the worries. But admittances do anything but.

He looks to Rune, him sheepishly rubbing his neck. "Erm. Ssa. Thiss one can smell it. Erm, the TarRaCe hasss good bathsss to cleanssse. They go there often when in the city."

He looks back to the halberd standing on its down. Then back to Rune as both Skiel and the halberd answer at the same time, "Yessss." "Yes."

"Thank you. It wasss difficult, but we prevailed. And, no thisss one jussst got done with all of thisss," he gestures to the stack of dishes. /Almost/ whacking it and knocking it over. It just clinks. Skiel cringes.

Rune doesn't pick up on what Harkashan is referring to. He doesn't expect her to pick up on this. She is not a Deathsinger. Still, he starts with a; "That's not what I..." He huffs, before he just lets that one go and will let Skielstregar speak on the matter himself.

After all, the Deathsingers are rather concerned about matters of natural death. And when Skielstrager mentions being neither dead nor alive, it suggests the tale of undeath.

Of course, Rune would know that Harkashan isn't one to have immediate hatred towards those of that kind. He speaks to the dead quite eloquently most of the time. Still, there is that uncomfortableness about Harkashan that doesn't quite leave him. His senses so trained to pick up on undead around him. Normally, it means problems. If it were a regular spirit, or a zombie, this might not be so problematic...

But the thing is that Skielstregar radiates something else.

Strength.

And that is a dangerous combination.

Still, he lets out a long breath and shakes his head a bit. "Yes. I would love something to eat." He seems to try and relax. But there remains tension in his body. He knows he is not in danger, but his trained senses are still screaming at him.

"I will have to visit this 'Tar Ra Ce' then." Harkashan declares, and leans onto the bar instead. "Tell me your tale, exanimate one."

The admission from Skielstregar has Rune pausing mid-step, looking back towards the silver-scaled one with a look of surprise. "How is that... possible?" Some measure of tension is visible in her previously relaxed posture. The half-sil may have some of her own issues related to death that she is still working through. Thankfully, she tends to react better to others than when such examinations turn inward.

"I've never seen an intelligent weapon before." Rune explains, trying to dismiss her own briefly-lived concerns. "Do you have a name? I would like to be able to address you properly." She asks, though it likely looks quite strange to be asking for an introduction from a weapon.

Then, as if remembering her task, she turns to put in an order for food and drinks, exchanging some newly acquired coin in exchange. This seems like the situation that needs a good, stiff drink.

A towering build. A weapon named after the aspect of potential destruction. Muscular. And if that was augmented by undeath...

The Warrior caste would be unstoppable. That is true.

And yet, here he is. Balancing dishes atop one another. Enjoying himself. Well, not now. Skiel is awkwardly shifting on his feet, a warbling rumbling in his throat that could be best parsed as an 'uhhhhh'.

He holds up a finger, and turns to his weapon, whispering as best he can (he can't).

'What'ssss exssanimate?'

'It means lifeless,' Malefic's split axehead says back in a similar terrible rumble of a whisper.

'Ah. Wait-' He turns back to the two of them. "Only mossstly lifelesss!" he tries to cheerily point out, as macabre as that is. But, he sighs, a plume of frigid air spilling forth from his maw as he plops into a chair. "Thisss one can explain sssome. But, pleassse know they won't ssshare everything. It isss... traumatic."

As Skielstregar collects himself, the halberd speaks. A similar rumble to Skiel. "I am Malefic. The Dragonfather's light up on you, Rune," it greets cordially.

Skiel casts a weird look to Malefic before shaking his head and starting for the both of them. "There wasss a time where thisss one wasss a proud warrior back in Am'shere. Serving the Dragonfather. Softskinsss from Charn-" he growls at that, "-came and take thisss one. Do... many bad thingsss to them. Send thisss one to fight. Die in fight. Thisss one doess not know how they woke up. They just know it isss the Dragonfather and the Deathsssinger'sss doing. They sussspect they were going to be raisssed asss undead. But... sssomething happened."

He shakes his head, rubbing his eyes. "It isss... hard to remember thossse timesss. A lot of anger. A lot of... other thingsss," he vaguely says. "They are much better now. Thisss one isss in control. They promise."

In control? What is that supposed to mean?

GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy: (4)+10: 14
GAME: Harkashan rolls Bluff: (14)+3: 17
GAME: Skielstregar rolls sense motive: (17)+1: 18

Tension remains in Harkashan's body as the one before him move. Balancing dishes as he might be, the awkwardness in his feet, the tales of what Skielstregar has done are more than enough to eliminate any thoughts of this one before him being a fool or a fraud.

"Only mostly lifeless." Harkashan repeats after Skiel, with a concern in his tone. But this is where he changes a bit. Fighting those trained nerves, he reaches out. His tail touching to Skiels' tail. The kind of gesture offered when comfort is desired. "Share as much as you are comfortable with." As much as he tries to even out his voice and be calming though, his voice still betrays some of that worry.

"I understand." Harkashan then remarks, and lifts one hand. "I know of what you speak. I was alive before the Charneth came." A subtle sign that the painful words need not be spoken any further. Though at the same time, it is rather rare for someone to come out on the other side like this.

In fact, he has never heard tale of anyone managing to break that. And as a Deathsinger and a Shaman, there is this immediate desire to dig deeper. He tries to hide it, but Skiel might pick up on this little flit. This little look in his eyes. A moment where he seems strangely 'hopeful' about something. 'Desiring' of something. But then...

He doesn't act on it. Which perhaps speaks far more to Harkashan as a person than his words.

"I believe your promise." Harkashan answers the exanimate before him, before he adds; "But if you need help, reach out to your kin. I will ensure you will be heard." Harkashan notes. The kinds of words that makes it obvious why Harkashan is welcomed both amongst Shamans and Speakers within Am'shere.

"It is a a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Malefic. May your edge always be sharp and your blows strike true." Rune makes, at least, an attempt using speech that she hopes would be pleasung to an intelligent weapon.

Then, the half-sil is gone from the conversation for a time as she lingers to collect food and drink. However, she is perceptive enough to pick up on a few things in the conversation. Enough so that when she does return, a bowl of some thick soup in one hand and an amber liquid in a tankard in the other, she gives a resounding, "Fuck Charn and their ilk." The girl has opinions on them, it seems.

She shoots a look towrads Harkashan at that, before taking a swig from the tankard and for the first time, she actually seems to willingly share some bit of her own trauma. Maybe it's because Skiel's story strikes so similar to her own. "We have that much in common, you and I." She lifts a brow at the dead-eyed silver-scale. "Died from a Charn attack, though I have the Elunites to thank for the fact I'm breathing again."

With another swig, she adds, "Not a pleasant experience."

Skiel's tail is cold. Rigid. It's feels wrong, but lines up with everything he's been saying. But the Warrior's posture laxes some, his armored tail returning the nudge with one of his own. "Thisss one appreciates your warmth."

And while he himself isn't a Speaker, he can't help but note the little notes of scent and flicks. "Before Charn," he echoes. "Ssso you underssstand." Pause. "Perhapsss... more wordsss can be ssshared. Jusst, later. Other Deathsssingersss have many questionsss for thisss one often."

The half-dead makari perks up and grins, tail swaying. "Thisss one appreciatesss your offer. Ssshaman Zeke and many other kin offer sssimilar aid, and they take asss much help asss they can. And give!"

Malefic seems to... grin again. "A pleasure. Thank you. Why is it so hard for others to give basic respect to me?" it rumbles, pleased.

"Because you loom like a hawk with a prisse," Skiel quips.

Malefic says nothing, but falls against Skiel's back with a >clang!<

The makari doesn't flinch, him chuckling in amusement as the weapon rights itself once more. Skiel's attention, however, focuses on Rune. Scaled brows raised high, can't help but echo, "You... died? Thisss one... thisss one isss sssorry that happened. It isss not pleassant at all. Essspecially at the handsss of sssuch a vile group. At leasst your are here now. With your friend," he tries to be happy, gesturing to Harkashan.

So far, when death has been on the table - in regards to discussion - Rune has generally run away. That has been Harkashan's perception so far. So when she returns with food in one hand and drink in the other - he takes the soup from her with a bit of a quiet and surprised look.

In as far as a Sith-makar can look surprised.

"Yes. Ehm, 'fuck' Charn, and their ilk." He repeats after her, still not quite so enamored with the term Fuck as the Softskins appear to be. It seems like a rather odd way to show displeasure. But that's not what he's surprised about. It's the sharing of her fate.

Her death at the hands of the Charn, and more importantly, the ones responsible for drawing her back. This explains the way she was reacting at the meeting a few days back, in regards to one of the high ranking ones of their church - he realizes.

So to Skielstregar it may be rather weird, when Harkashan seems to smile to Rune about this, and touches her back. Not the kind of showing of someone trying to set one's mind at peace. But rather, thankful about something?

He then erects his posture back up and nods to Skiel. "I understand." Is all he shares for now. The offer is freely given, it is to the half-dead one to accept it.

Miracle Max surely has something to say about the matter. Something about this one being only MOSTLY dead.

The antics of the Makari and his weapon are given a small quirk of one corner of Rune's lip, but it doesn't linger long when matters of death are on the table. Her eyes look down into her ale as if looking at her own reflection there, but then Harkashan's touch to her back has her attention drawn back to reality, back to the moment at hand. "That's why I was seized up the other day. They might have saved me, but... I haven't a clue why." Which may very well be troubling.

Skielstregar's sympathies are given only a brief nod. The urge to flee from the problem is held off only by the comment about being among friends. Her blue eyes look from one Makari to the other before she adds, "We actually only found each other again a couple of weeks ago. I'd been traveling alone before that. So... it is nice to have a friend at my side, again."

Then, that name catches her attention, "Zeke." She taps a finger on the table. "That's the blue-scale with the crystal limbs, right?" Rune glances at Harkashan, "He was at the meeting, and Jacob told me about him, too." Back to Skiel, "He's the one Tlanexhuani was sent after, isn't he? The one Nonantzin wants brought back to Am'shere?"

Skielstregar can't help but rumble in amusement at hearing the softskin curse words leave a kin's mouth. He looks between the two, not finding the situation strange. Perhaps he himself is used to being amongst softskins. "Exsselent," he hums to Harkashan, satisfied. Accepted.

He turns to Rune, head tilting to the side, confused as to having no context, but very well not pressing it. "That isss good!" he enthuses, his general mood on an uptick. "Thisss one iss glad fate brought you two friendsss back together!"

"Sssa. Ssshaman Zeke, servant of the Dragonfather. Thisss one respectsss him greatly," he intones, touching the holy symbol dangling from his neck. "Hrm. Yesss. Nonantzin wissshes to see him. And thisss one hass told the Ssshaman. But... to be honesst, thisss one recommended against it to him. And offered to essscort the nest-mother here. Thisss one did come from Mictlan recently, and hasssn't sssseen her in a few daysss. And there wasss some problemsss in Mictlan, but thisss one doesssn't know what happened. Earthquake, apparently. Unsssure. Need to asssk more kin."

There's a slow nod from Harkashan once more. "The Skydancing Wyvern's methods are... unusual." It is a matter upon which he has more limited experience. But there are ties between his kind and theirs. "Is it something you desire to talk to them about?" He then asks of her, as she mentions not knowing why.

His tail shifts and coils around Rune's legs, and he actually uses this coiling motion to draw her a bit closer to him. Slithering like a serpent's body, but in less tension. "It has been very comforting to step alongside Rune once again." He glances down towards her with a warmth that seems to make the inferno of his own scales pale in comparison.

She might not spot the intensity from where she stands though.

"She is very important to me." He expresses, before quieting on the topic of Zeke. "Yes, he was." He simply notes.

Then, as Skielstregar mentions it, Harkashan notes; "I intend to travel to Mictlan again very soon to help them resanctify the land. Perhaps my services can aid my kin there. Though I take the cold more easily, there are others to whom the hoarfrost clings in an icy embrace."

"He seems to be highly regarded by all I've spoken to. Certainly not the child that Nonantzin made him out to be." Rune shakes her head slightly, the tips of her fingers tracing against the lip of the tankard. "I had my doubts about her story from the beginning, in all honesty. It strikes me as a bit too much like my own father, overprotective to a fault." Her brows furrow, "Though there may be more to it than just that."

The idea that the problems in Mictlan and this familial connection to Zeke may be related is not lost on her. Though, she obviously isn't jumping to any conclusions there.

The coiling of Harkashan's tail seems familiar enough that it only draws a quick look from the half-sil's blue eyes, then a quirk of her lips. "Thanks, big-guy." If she thinks any deeper on the matter than that, it doesn't seem obvious on the surface.

"I'm definitely not dragging my ass out to Mictlan without getting a bath and a full night's sleep. Smelling like a sewer around your kind does not leave a good impression, and I'd like to continue getting courier work to the settlement." Rune states, taking another swig of her ale and seeming to accept no argument on that point.

Skielstregar looks between the two, his tail swaying increasing. "Thiss one is very glad you two are such nice friendsss. Many friendsss got thisss one through many hard timesss, and isss eternally grateful to them."

"Yess. Thisss one isss suspect of the nessst-mother'sss tale for sssuch thingsss. As thisss one too hasss some... difficultiesss with their nessst-father," he admits.

At the mention of heading out and back to Mictlan, Skielstregar perks. "Ah! Perhapsss thisss one can join you two and help essscort? Thisss one travelss often between Mictlan and here. Thisss one jusst has a few things to take care of today, ssso they can leave anytime starting tomorrow!"

A pause. Then a grin. Tail swaying, amused. "Thisss one thinksss kin will politely give directionsss to nearesst river if not recitified."

Malefic >clank<s him again.

"The name given to him originally seems rather cruel." Harkashan betrays his knowledge of what Rune speaks to. After all, others had spoken of Zeke as well. And it was not hard to put 2 and 2 together. Two working limbs, that is, and two crystaline ones.

"Hrrm." A deep gruff rumble eminates from the crimson Sith-makar at Rune's show of appreciation, and he squeezes his tail around her for a moment in answer, before relaxing it again. "Do not worry. We will seek out this..." Pause. Squint.

"Tar-Ra-Ce?"

"That place with the bath, before we travel there." He bids, before turning his head up. He doesn't speak on the matter of his own family. In fact, Rune has never heard Harkashan ever mention his father or mother.

"An escort would be most welcome, kin." Harkashan offers. Followed by noting; "Though perhaps an escort to this bathhouse of yours may be more prudent on ths hort term." He adds, as he chows down on the remainder of the soup offered to him by Rune.

At the very least, Skiel offers some measure of support to some of the suspicions that Rune already had in her mind. Whatever intentions Zeke's nest-mother had, they did not seem in the Makari's best interest.

"No." Rune shakes her head with some vehimence, "There is no way that I am bathing in the river this time of year. So bathhouse, definitely." At the proposal of getting a guide to the location, the half-sil quickly chugs the last of the ale and sets down the tankard. "Mmm. If you wouldn't mind showing us the way?"

Pushing herself to her feet, she disengages herself from Harkashan's tail and looks between the two. "Bath house today, and then we can meet up in the morning tomorrow if that's enough time for your tasks?" It seems that she has had enough of smelling of Alexandrian sewers for the time being.

Skiel nods solemnly. "Yess. It iss cruel. Thiss one rejectsss that name for the Ssshaman."

Unflinching from the clang, he reaches out and scoops up the halberd, the cracked grin closing to be nothing more than a jagged line. "Bah, mosst don't enjoy the cold watersss like thiss one, but! Sssa, the Tarrassse!" he enthuses. "Thisss one will gladly show you two! It isss a wonderful place. Besssides, thisss one needss to go Tradesss. Need to check on new craftsss for collection.

Malefic grins again.

"Tomorrow morning! We ride! But for now- warm watersss and smell-good soap-ssstonesss!" he declares, jabbing a finger to the sky. "Toooo the Colosseum Dissstrict!"

He ambles on out, proud even in as a simple role as a guide. So much life in such a big guy.

Hard to believe his heart barely beats.

-End Scene-