Log 01 Jyslin Andie Syval Meeting in a Bar
The Bronze Tome does not exactly sport a Shaar-wide reputation as a fine drinking establishment; indeed, it is not even incredibly well known in its own Delzimmer, and has little reputation at all beyond the confines there. But here in Delzimmer, at least amongst a certain sector of the city's populace, the Bronze Tome is reasonably well known and accounted for as a tavern and inn catering to a particular clientele: students of the arcane arts - those of the Alliance of Art in the City - who find themselves drawn towards at least the thought, if not the acts themselves, of adventure and risk-taking. It is said that the proprietor, Mort, was once an adventurer himself, though the stories conflict on his skills and abilities in that area. Some say he was a rogue, whilst others insist perhaps he was a bard - his roughened voice gives the lie to that one, but the rumors persist - or perhaps he was himself one of the students of the Alliance of Art once upon a time.
Regardless the truth of any of these, it is true that the Bronze Tome is very popular with those who are students of the Alliance, or those who like some of them enjoy stories of adventure and derring do. The Bronze Tome always has at least one, sometimes as many as three bards present, ready to share such tales, and the place also does good business supporting networking amongst those seeking to build parties of such risk-takers and heart-breakers.
So it is that this early evening, as students of the Alliance are set free from their studies for the day, a new batch of stories and rumors run rampant. Many are all atwitter at word that a pair of most unusual ladies have come to call at the Bronze Tome this day. When questioned it seems most find it difficult to quite put solid finger to why they are so enticed by these two; could it be because it is rumored they entered the city alone, without any sign of caravan, compatriots, guards, or even horses? Or could it be because they are visibly two attractive - yet very different - human women, both in robes and with incredibly - indeed, improbably - long hair, each hanging to their hips? An unheard-of extravagance in the sultry heat and humidity of the Shaar amongst humans. That one of said women is demonstrably witch-colored, with hair a brilliant auburn and eyes of dazzling emerald - and with what some purport to be a sleeping miniature dragon upon her shoulders cannot help but contribute to the mystery and interest expressed.
The two newcomers aren't the only standouts within the Bronze Tome but judging by how the other patrons are ignoring the almost literal elephant in the room as so much green scenery, he's probably a regular.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built, the man's sunbaked skin and earthy tunic combines with his shockingly verdant-green hair to make him resemble a seated tree. It's possible the cloth sack at his side contains a spellbook but the ornate wooden haft of a gleaming bardiche leaning against his chair is anything but a wizard's wand. But then, every adventuring tavern has need of front-line muscle - and wizards especially.
Sitting at first self-absorbed with his thoughts and his beer, a watchful gaze will nonetheless notice his eyes as one of the first upon the two women entering. Beer comes first, but with so much in his wooden tankard, the young man stands with his pint and grasps his polearm loosely before walking over drink and weapon in hand. The bardiche's ornate pommel clunks heavily as it taps against the wooden floor like a walking stick.
Rumors imply the women entered some hours ago, before the Alliance students were freed to their own devices and came upon the Tome once more. But, indeed, as things become more populous one of those selfsame women finally comes down the stairs from the rented rooms above. And though she may not be verdant and impossible of color, she is indeed a striking and handsome woman, moving with a powerful grace all at odds with her attire which speaks of a wizardess, surely.
She is a few inches taller than the norm, but is no towering giantess, yet she is quite sun-bronzed and still vibrantly young. Her improbably long, full hair is ashen blonde, and her eyes are nearly the same green as the bariche-carrier's hair. Her robe is ankle length and deceptively simple of cut, a home-spun color of grey-tinted tannish white. Yet those with an eye for such things might identify its material as some of the finest carded cotton to be found, a thin and light, breeze fabric but with a style and cut belying is apparent simplicity. Indeed, the very subtle decorations along the hem, the side-slit of the skirt, and around the elbow-length sleeves' ends harken to both great talent, and a very old sensibility. Far older than the woman herself.
The belt about her waist is similarly simple, but to a keen eye is well-worn and heavy, not mere decoration but one used to supporting multiple implements, such as heavy pouches, a post for a weapon's thong, and perhaps the buckles of a baldric for a scabbard. Her feet, when they peek out, appear to be wearing a thin pair of slippers.
The woman's alert gaze sweeps the room, cataloging many as her nostrils flare subtly. Those emerald orbs lock for a few long moments on the approaching figure with equally emerald hair. Then she steps to the bar and makes a simple gesture, then lays two bronze coins upon the surface and waits for a mug of mead to be served ... even as she watches intently that approach out of the corner of her eye.
<OOC> Syval says, "Ah sorry, I misread your set a bit. Thank you for rolling with it."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Happy to do so. :)"
The general calm of the students at their tables may be a reassurance as the bardiche's blade glints in the weak rays of sunlight filtering inside before the fall of true night, and indeed the brawny fellow's expression seems to hold no ill intent, instead tinged by an open curiosity. Unlike most, he takes the direct approach to slake his intellectual thirst and the bardiche's pommel comes to a stop some distance beside the bronze-hued woman. Were it anything else, outside of arm's reach might actually mean something.
"Hail, you're a face I haven't seen before," he greets, friendly enough.
The woman inclines her head just slightly towards the man, seemingly unperturbed by his potentially martial display. "Likely enough true." she answers, her voice a warm, whiskey tone. "My first time east of far Rethmar, this trip, let alone so far as the Rift and down here to Delzimmer." Finally offered a tankard, she lifts it, offers a slight salute, and then takes a pull from it.
"You move it like you know what to do with that outsized toothpick." the woman teases in wry humor. She cannot help her curiosity about this one; the hair is one thing, but that scent! Oh, but that scent is something else entire. Of course at this range it is likely Syval's own sense of smell has picked up an interesting and curious musk about this blonde in turn, something that speaks of jungle depths and predatory power. But how would a woman like this have any hint of that about her?
The young man lifts his tankard in kind and tips it back in tandem to drink over his surprise. "More than most," he coolly replies with a smile that makes his eyes shine with a piercing confidence welled up from somewhere far deeper than the bulk of his frame. There's nothing much to be said for his beer - as weak as it is, he's likely only one step above the house's watered ale, safe but cheap.
"You're from far a-field. You must have had a long journey on Trader's Way," he comments, and his nostrils flare as he pays just a little closer attention to the mysterious woman.
The woman shrugs a bit non-challantly. "A bit far, perhaps. We had something to check on, and no way to do it right but to be there. We don't travel often on the roads." she answers with equal mystery, yet she gives no air of intending the same. It is as if she thinks her words convey more than they do. She does not add 'Andie wanted a bath, and so here we are'. But she thinks it very loudly, and hopes Neosodos can hear her. "And how far afield did you come?"
The young man inclines his head past the woman's shoulder with surprising accuracy to true south-west, though in the bar the direction may seem random. "Elveswatch, the Forest of Amlar. You have a touch of the Art about you, or a deity of travel?" he asks with a boredom that betrays why his eyes are hanging so intently - hoping for a third answer.
"Both, in fact, though neither is the reason per se." the woman answers. She considers the emerald-haired stranger for a few more moments, and then offers her right hand to him. Held, though not obvious, it shows a well-worn strength better suited to a martial professional than her apparent seeming of wizarding ways. "My friend even moreso. I am Jyslin."
<OOC> Syval just realized he has no idea what the greeting norms are in the Shaar. Hand-kissing is a post-Renaissance European thing and handshakes are... she's not sure when.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Since handshakes were about 'here, see, no weapon in my weapon hand, trust me', I figure it's reasonable they'd ahve come into being in the SHaar, too."
<OOC> Syval says, "That works, and in this context is ironic given what is in my left hand."
"Syval," the young man readily answers as he sets down his drink and takes the offered hand in a soft grip. His own hand has the tell-tale wear of being well-accustomed to his "over-sized toothpick" despite its care. No title is given; he needn't bother. The name is rare enough and the appellation 'of Amlar' is now implied.
Jyslin honestly wishes Neosodos were here right now; she'd love to consult with the self-titled Eldritch Wyrm about the curious scent she is picking up on this man. He is indeed solidly present, no illusion. And his movements say this is his flesh, his natural shape, not some affectation. But he is a curious one indeed. So thinks the woman who hasn't walked on two feet in over a thousand miles. "Far nearer-by, then, than I. But what brought you from -- Elveswatch, you say? -- here to Delzimmer? Something here? Or something beyond here?"
"The Art. There's less here than I'd hoped," Syval answers as he casts his eyes across the wizards of the tavern, recognizing them for what they are with or without the customary clothes of the Alliance. His own could almost pass, in another life. Cut and sewn and hemmed and dyed, if it ever was the same garb the only connection left is its weave - and the peculiar knot used to fasten its sash.
Turning back to Jyslin, the brawny young man taps his bardiche against his shoulder. "If you're looking to hire I know the city, the mountains to the east, and roads for a few days' travel in each direction."
<OOC> Syval finishes bedtime prep and hugs goodnight.
"Plenty here. Plenty more elsewhere." Jyslin answers with assurance. "Just have to know how and where to look." Her tone strongly implies she knows where and how, or at least believes she does. "I don't know that we're hiring. But I would be willing to pay for your evening meal, and another drink or two, and we can share stories about what we know, and what we don't, of the roads and pathways ahead?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas smooches. "Nini, honey."
<OOC> Syval hugs. "Sleep well when you do. We can continue this later."
<OOC> Syval was not expecting such an interest from Jyslin!
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "he smells like freaking dragon and magic!"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Also, I'm a moon priestess. I can //see// you're not normal, bub."
<OOC> Syval should not be surprised, but was still expecting there to be more work on his end. Too many years of first character introductions taking effort to build into plots. XD
<OOC> Syval <.< "Moon princess? I'll have to ask more about that via Discord later."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "In reference to your last question from last night? Moon priestess. A priestess of Selune, the goddess of the Moon, magic, Destiny, Patroness of Sailors and of Good Werebeasts in the Shaar amongst the Human pantheon."
<OOC> Syval says, "And also welcome!"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas notes: Monies in the Shaar are different, too.
Syval's face brightens in surprise at the offer and he chuckles. "You must not hurt for gold pieces. That is generous of you." His eyes briefly sweep the tavern and his former table, still unoccupied. "Would you like to use a table, or somewhere else?"
<OOC> Syval says, "Actually... no bronze fits best here."
<OOC> Syval says, "BP would be appropriate for the cost of food and drinks for two."
"Could be." Jyslin answers, honestly. "Or maybe I just don't have a great deal of use for the stuff most of the time." The strange ashen-blonde woman doesn't explain further, but gestures right back to the table from whence Syval came when he approached. "Yours'll do." Nope. Didn't follow his eyes. Which rather implies something about her observance of the details of the tavern and memory for those details.
And then Jyslin flicks her left hand down and raps her knuckles across the back of a hand trying to grasp at her belt. "Doesn't belong to you, knave. You want to keep those fingers, you keep them off me without my permission." One of the much younger, neophyte Alliance students retracts his hand, clutching it close and giving a frightened but accusatory glance at the stranger. Jyslin doesn't even pay him further mind, just strolls past Syval towards that table and turns to put her back against the wall.
A couple of bronze coins appear from the tiny purse inside her belt, and are laid at the center of the table in a very calm, subtle 'summoning' for the serving staff. "Another mead, please, and whatever he would like to eat and drink. I'm ... still digesting breakfast."
<OOC> Syval says, "Permission to power pose on the neophyte a little?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Sure. He's an unnamed NPC currently."
Syval glares sharply at the interloper and he stays after Jyslin passes, tightly gripping the haft of his bardiche as a mist of arcana seeps out and briefly tints his sandy eyes. The towering young man advances upon the neophyte with heavy, foreboding steps while his free hand beckons his tankard to follow from the bar.
"I am in the middle of something with her. Interrupt like that again and next time this will be acid," Syval threatens in a cold voice, sharp and clipped from subdued anger. Floating to its appointed place far over the young student's head the tankard tips and dumps its contents in one large splash.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Alcohol abuse!"
<OOC> Syval Discords a relevant pic.
The neophyte flees, soggily, rather than confront the so-called Emerald Marauder of the Alliance; Syval has a reputation. Some of the other patrons watch this with some degree of curiosity, but none move to intervene, either because of Syval's rep, or because they just cannot be bothered for someone they aren't invested in.
When Syval arrives at the table, Jyslin arches one ashen blonde eyebrow. "I could protest at paying for a drink on the concern you might waste it." Then she grins rakishly and winks. "But that's fine. You could have done far worse, and you didn't. Hope you do not mind that I chose your seat?" Another clear indication she knew exactly where Syval was seated long before he approached her.
<OOC> Syval says, "Why do I feel like I just accidentally surrendered the warm spot that smells like me to a cat?"
<OOC> Syval feels like he just came back from the fridge to find a furball in his chair.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas chuckles.
"I spilled /my/ drink, not yours," Syval rebuts smoothly as he returns with a look of satisfaction and gestures his now-empty tankard in front of another empty chair. "It's yours," he grants with a toss of his head and all the magnanimity of a king bequeathing a fiefdom. Sitting down across from the white-robed woman, his finger pokes forward towards the pile of bronze and one by one, the little metal disks lift and stack themselves into a neat pillar.
Jyslin chuckles softly, an indulgent amusement at the use of the Art. She hasn't spent a great deal of time around wizards previously, but she remembers stories from the other priestesses at the Hall of the Heavens; it's not uncommon for new wizards to indulge perhaps a bit much in their Art at first. Nothing like Andie, who only uses hers when there is no other way to accomplish something.
The server takes the coins to cover a fresh drink for each of them, and then asks Syval what he'd like to eat, before disappearing to get the drinks. Once the server is gone Jyslin speaks up again. "So. My friend and I will be going through the Weathering Heights' foothills, according to the map. You said you were familiar with the area?" She does not mention their ultimate destination, however, or their purpose.
<OOC> Syval rolls Lore. What kind of hazards or beasties would be common or unique to the area?
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Weathering Heights is home to a colony of hill giants; not something surprising, but dangerous enough to be worth mentioning. There are some rumors of winged humanoids - legends say 'ancient angels' - living at the heights and sometimes coming downward to investigate. Environmentally speaking, theey have tremendous winds in the area, oddly far stronger and more ever-present than anywhere else; things are drier there than normal for the surroundings as well. There's also a noted significant spread of mountain lions."
"I know them well," Syval assures confidently. "Bring extra water and be careful of the winds. Hill giants roam the heights, but if you can hunt mountain lions, there's at least plenty of food."
Something interesting sparkles in the depths of Jyslin's emerald eyes at Syval's words. Hunt mountain lions? Perhaps, but unlikely. She'll just be competing with them for their preferred prey. "So trying to fly would be crazy. Good to know." She'll want to warn Neosodos, though of course he probably already knows; damned little drake seems to know everything. Earns his title for sure. "I take it the Luirite warders don't come out that far, then?" she asks.
"Not into the hills," the green-haired young man affirms. "Maybe they figure there's nothing out there worth securing, or the Alliance will handle it for them," he guesses with a casual shrug, then grins. "Or that someone brave and well-armed will get hired to do it."
The woman nods; her own experience with the smaller folk is limited, so she accepts that idea of their motivations without challenge, despite it being their homeland so nearby. "So ... what have you been hired to do, out there?" He implied more than one such mission, after all, so she's curious what would engender repeated trips.
<OOC> Syval rolls again. "Anything occult, arcane-infused, or of interest to the Art that I might seek there as well?"
<OOC> Syval says, "Or just plain loot-able. <.< >.>"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Well, he can definitely smell a few things around there. Though the ... if you'll pardon the expression ... primordial magic 'stink' out of the Toadsquats tends to mask/mute it a bit. There's something 'up there' at the top that smells ... interesting, to say the least. And very old. Not necessarily as old as whatever is in the Toadsquats, but still very old."
<OOC> Syval says, "And the stink out of Toadsquats is a nasty-bad kind of magic smell or just a strong primordial magic smell - not that I'd recognize that for what it is besides 'doesn't smell like Art'."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Strong primordial magic smell."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Also, there are some crystals and unusual root plants that grow in the Weathering Heights that are prized as spell and potion components."
<OOC> Syval <3
<OOC> Syval loves him magic crystals enough that it belongs in his sheet.
<OOC> Syval says, "That is a *direct* reference to my Syval Story. I can't not. Dragons and magic crystals have a thing together there - I'm always wearing one."
<OOC> Syval says, "In my case, it'll be green if I can find one, carved into a draconic pendant. In fact~..."
"Small things for the farmers, guide foragers in harvest season, deal with mountain lions," Syval rattles off. "The Art is out there, but it's not all friendly." Folding his arms, the green-haired young man leans back on his chair as he apprises Jyslin in her thin but fine cotton robe, with hair that now might nearly sweep the floor. As he does so, the sheen of a green gem glints from his collar - a glimpse of something precious hanging from a string about his neck.
"And what brings you two out there?"
Jyslin nods, listening to what else Syval has to say, all without once getting out any bit of paper, or a map to check things. "Nowhere is 'all friendly.'" she offers with true wisdom, the tone of someone used to wandering the wilderness and dealing with whatever may come about. "I do appreciate the details. I hope your dinner is worth the tales."
There's no way the sharp-eyed ashen blonde fails to notice that hint of something gemmed, but she says nothing about it, and instead pays attention to the question asked. "Andie has something she needs to see to before too long. So we're making our way there. It's a bit of a hike for us." She sounds a mite uncertain about all of this; not doubting, but like she's following her friend's lead, well aware that she isn't being given all of the pertinent details. "We're from a good bit further west than you."
Syval nods back, still regarding Jyslin curious as he prods a little further. "So you mentioned. Does everyone from Shaareach keep their hair so long? You two have the look of witches dressed like that." Yup, he said it.
<OOC> Syval afks for phone.
Jyslin chuckles, but her eyes don't quite carry the humor, instead peering rather incisively at Syval, perhaps wondering how he guessed so close to right. Because he is quite close. "Oh, no. I'd say Andie and I are rather unusual in that regard." she admits. She isn't totally sanguine, here, but she is not about to lie; only a fool would meet Andie and thinks she wasn't a witch, after all.
"You might say there's good reason to come to that conclusion, Syval." Nothing definite is offered, but it's not hard to read between the lines. Jyslin shrugs a little. "You might say there's more to us than meets the eye, both of us." There's a hint in the tone that though both may have secrets, they may not all be the same secrets.
<OOC> Syval returns and also shares a late dinner.
<OOC> Syval says, "Sorry that took so long. Thank you for waiting."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas cuddles.
The green-haired young man can only shake his head to that, tossing the loose locks back and forth as he huffs out his nose. "Hey now, are we trading answers or puzzles? You've got a touch of Art, something like a travel deity, you're like a witch but not... string a person on like this and he might expect to be eaten the first night away from town."
The woman smiles ruefully. "Sorry. Habit picked up from my friend. Andie has a long habit of talking around things, instead of through them." And if that doesn't sound like a witch? What does? "You're right, I do have a touch of the Art. My friend, even moreso." She winks at Syval. Then she brushes her fingers through her hair while looking intently at his. "But we're not the only two keeping some secrets, now are we?"
Jyslin sips her mead for a bit, letting Syval stew in his thoughts for a bit. Eventually, after likely five minutes or more of her own silence, she finally speaks up again. "My friend is the witch. I am ... what you see, and more, but no witch am I. I walk in this skin, and another. That changed my path from one who roams, to one who sings to the heavens, is heard, and hears their song in return."
Syval raises a brow at the continued coyness and turns to accept a fresh drink from the server, sipping over the silence while continuing to eye Jyslin over the rim. The most her question seems to have engendered is confusion and an expectant wait for her to explain herself.
The green-haired man furrows his brow at what his patience is rewarded with. "So you're... you mean a priestess? Some kind of transformed one?" he asks, not completely following. "Your witch friend's doing?"
Jyslin chuckles and shakes her head. "Andie's doing? No, certainly not. We'd not even met yet." Not actually true, but Jyslin does not know that. Oh well! She can only tell the truth she knows. Or choose not to do so. "I became a moonpriestess, a bit beyond my own original intent. After I changed, and became, I had to leave the life of the roamer behind. The Hall of the Heavens helped me, and that's how I made peace with my change."
"Roaming isn't a bad life," Syval opines, having no doubt met his share. "What were you before your change?"
<OOC> Syval says, "And bed time for me."
<OOC> Syval should have made his reaction more significant to hearing Andie is a witch too.
<OOC> Syval says, "That call arrived when we had a really good rhythm going..."
<OOC> Syval says, "Alas."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas smooches.
<OOC> Syval !
<OOC> Syval <3 but still isn't sure he's not talking to a hungry witch.
<OOC> Syval says, "Sleep well when you do. :)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale should make a second character or at least a second world file so her Syval logs don't get too buried in Vanya things.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale should do that for Neri too probably...
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li could have Blondie @pcreate for Neri and Syval, if you would like?
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Sure! If this is going to be more than just a one-off thing that might help me, and it looks like these might be more than one-off things. :)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "For now I can keep using this setup though. That can be for later."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "I believe we were somewhere around here?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li nods. "I'm going to ask about that last pose, though. She just said what she was before, didn't she? She was a roamer. Shaaren for 'ranger'."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "One moment while I refresh myself on Syval's thought process here. :)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Okay. I mean 'what race were you before you became human?' From the way you referred to your two skins, I'm not ICly convinced you were a /human/ roamer. The way I asked is ambiguous however, so answer as you please."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale is not a bard with +8 DIP, after all.
Jyslin tilts her head slightly, considering Syval curiously. "I was just that: a human roamer." Well, mostly human. Being one-quarter elven doesn't really count. "Afterwards, though ... I was something else. Orange and black, splash of white. A preference for raw meat and pouncing." She grins a bit impishly, a glitter in her amber-backed green eyes.
"That sounds like the mountain cats to the east sparing their color," the green-haired young man connects as his own eyes flash in a moment's insight. Folding his arms pensively across his chest, there's a regal, almost stately majesty exuded passively by his strong features - something akin to the statues that celebrate Delzimmer's founders, but more primal and rough-edged. Lacking the formal tidiness of high, cultured office, it might perhaps be a pure manifestation of power held under more-than-brute control. His display of minor wizardry may not have been without good reason.
"So you are one of the monsters at night who snatches unwary travelers, and by day repent as a priestess?" he asks, but with a smile that reveals he is joking.
Jyslin takes no offense, and just chuckles. "I tend to guide unwary travelers. Or avoid them. I don't do a lot of repenting." But she does not mind the comparison. "I do a bit better in jungles or damp plains than mountains, but I can deal with it all. Spent the last few years almost exclusively in swamps." Those are Andie's preferred terrain, after all.
Of course, Jyslin currently has no idea about the rest of her story; the part that began before she was even born. But that time, that answer, will come.
"Yuck," Syval assesses, theatrically sticking out his tongue at the thought. "Foul havens of disease, those. The miasma of swamps doesn't suffer humans very kindly. You must have a hearty constitution, or you are quite the healer priestess."
"A bit of both, honestly." Jyslin answers honestly. "And my companion, Andie, is truly gifted with herbs and ointments. She is very good at handling the challenges in swamps, and sharing that with others in need."
"Good for both of you then," the stocky wizard replies. "What is Andie seeking in the highlands? There's little there of interest to most, and there's not much beyond it if you're avoiding the peaks."
"Going around them, actually." Which means, or implies at least, that she and Andie will ravel the full length of the Toadsquats range and through the Sensions of the Slain, a much-feared section of foothills mixed with ancient mass graves, notorious for being ferociously haunted. "Apparently there's somewhere in White Bog she needs to check out."
Syval furrows his brow in puzzlement. "Then you want the wagon path to the village of Wishwell. That passes the White Bog Woods without venturing into the mountains, though it's not as traveled as the southern road to Ulara."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li applauds. :)
<OOC> Syval Greenscale bookmarked your high-res map because he kept referring to it so much earlier. XD
Jyslin tilts her head slightly, regarding Syval carefully. "I suppose you might be right, if there's a road that goes right there." Apparently that wasn't on the map she has seen. But like any good roamer, she's quite happy to learn more about the paths around her and where they may lead. "Another good reason for us to have talked. Sounds like I need a better map of the area."
The wizard pats the bag at his side. "Normally my advice would be to wait for a trader in that direction and join on. Some will take passengers for cheaper than a carriage, and a journey that far... you would need quite a lot," Syval considers with a smile, amused at the thought of such a scale of wealth. "But for you and your friend that won't be much concern since you traveled by foot this far."
Jyslin shakes her head a bit. No, she is not in favor of taking a carriage, or traveling with a caravan, despite that being the normal way anyone makes such a long journey with any degree of safety. "I think we'll just get a better map and go our own way. We don't mind traveling rough and wild." Clearly not, it would seem. "But I appreciate the advice and the insight."
It isn't with any expression of surprise that Syval receives the news. With the rumor surrounding the pair, he expected as much. "Well safe travels to you," he bids, glancing to his opposite side at the masterfully crafted bardiche leaned against his chair. "And be sure to let your friend know I am available for hire if you want added protection on the way."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "And I believe we have food arriving at some point. Probably whatever's the tavern's fare for the day. Porridge and some sort of fruit perhaps, or a bread."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale makes himself an early dinner on that note. He hunger.s
<OOC> Syval Greenscale *hungers
It is at about that time that their meal arrives, with an antelope and mixed vegetables stew, along with refreshes on their drinks. Jyslin covered the price, and does so again gratefully so that they can continue to enjoy one another's company.
As they eat and chat amiably, largely about nothing consequential, Syval will catch whiff of a scene that is distinctly both lizard ... and magic. The scent seems to be doing a masterful job of not being pinned down to any one spot or approach, but it does seem to be getting cloer. And something about the playful sparkle in Jyslin's eyes gives the hint Syval may not be the only one aware of that scent, and that she may know better than he who or what it is and what it portends.
Syval spares a glance in their conversation towards the rest of the room, noting the other patrons around them - or rather the patrons' blindness to the new font of Art in their midst. Taking a hearty drink of his mead, the young man wipes his mouth and smiles to Jyslin, pausing their rousing conversation on the healing properties of Amlar's fire root - when administered as a powder in one's tunic. "You sense something too? You /are/ strong with the Art..."
"Oh, I sense it. Definitely." Jyslin offers, with real humor, nearly a chuckle, tinting her voice. She continues to eat with one hand, but her other reaches to a tiny pouch at her waist, untying it one-handed and delving a finger inside to extract a tiny black berry. She lays this on the table's surface near her spoon and then ties the pouch closed once more.
Not a minute later a tiny lizard's head pokes its way up from Jyslin's lap, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, head drawn towards that berry. The priestess chuckles a low, husky sound of pleasure. "Be polite, Neo. Say hello, first." she teases the lizard.
The lizard flicks the tongue around and turns to gaze with wide eyes towards the large male sitting nearby. Then it churrrs out a voice that sounds like one part feline purr, one part lisping South American accent, full of drawn-out vowels and odd rolls to certain consonant sounds. "Hellllooooo." it purrs up at Syval.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale XD "By 'sense it' you mean 'it's currently crawling up my leg' don't you?"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale also offers mixed veggies in a light marinara.
Syval eyes the berry expectantly until the lizard peeks into view. The peculiar little creature is regarded with due curiosity, especially as it speaks, and he rocks back in his chair while refolding his arms, smiling enough to be polite. "Hello," is the bass reply, even as the wizard's sand-hue eyes study it openly.
"Ssssuch interesssting frrriendssss you find, Jyssslin." Neosodos offers teasingly in his singsong voice, still watching Syval carefully. "Sssso ... talented." His tongue flicks out again.
Jyslin pets along the lizard's head and neck, and then smiles. "You can have the berry, now." Yes, she could sense him coming. And then she could feel him climbing her leg.
"Neosodos, the Eldritch Wyrm, be pleased to meet Syval of Amlar, student of the Alliance. Syval, this is my friend, Neosodos. He is Andie's companion and familiar.
The wyrm chuckles raspily and then that tongue snakes out once more, curling around the berry and claiming it, pulling it into his little mouth where he bites into it with gusto, actually churring with pleasure.
"I collect various poisonous buds, berries and bits. Neo is always trying to improve the potentcy of his sting. And he finds their variety exciting." Jyslin explains.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale makes a Knowledge: Arcane check to recognize the lil' speaky lizard.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "There's no +roll here is there?"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale rolls 10, adds +9, result 19.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Or if that'd be a Knowledge: Occult, that's a ... huh, that's a 0 but I thought I put a point into that like we were discussing so my skill section might be incomplete still."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "And actually that raises a good question that I'll take to Discord."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "K: Arcana I would say the DC is likely 20. Occult the DC would be like 15. But I can tell you that with that name as given, and his appearance, he is almost certainly - adding poison stinger to it - a pseudodragon. What you haven't put together is the mystery of JUST WHICH ONE."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Hah! So if I had a rank in Occult then either check would have missed by 1. That's amusing."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Well, what color is he? That tells half the story right?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "He's a moddled grey-brown with some reddish purple highlights."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Sorry. Mottled. But you knew what I meant."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Wooow I forgot that blows up some mushes."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale still has no idea what that is even doing. One moment while he fixes his pose to something this place might accept.
"I can't say I've made a habit of eating poison berries for fun, and "student" is a little strong now," Syval notes as he watches the little lizard and discretely frees one hand long enough to weave a subtle sign in the air.
"Laas," the wizard hisses sotto voce, and his sandy eyes become hazed in an acrid green arcana. "I've never heard of an 'eldritch wyrm'," he confesses while continuing to study with a focused interest that was wholly absent when regarding the priestess herself. "Andie's familiar is almost a dragon?"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Ack sorry. I meant to 'think' that until the last one."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale ahems.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "So what you're saying is... Neo is a Montley Hue?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Motley Hue. :)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Thank you I'm not sure where that n came from."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale is FYI using Detect Magic.
"A pseudodragon." Jyslin explains, smiling. "Edritch Wyrm is his title, and one he has earned." she praises the little dragon, offering more petting attentions. "Where's Andie?" she questions of Neosodos.
"Sssheee's still luxurrrriating in the bath." the little wyrm offers.
Jyslin chuckles. "Well, I won't disturb her, then." There's a rather adorable familiarity between them, for this not being her familiar. It clearly shows how close she, Andie and Neo must be.
Most interesting, however, to the one examining the magic of the pseudodragon. There is a familiar's bond, there, but it is unlike any Syval has ever examined, much deeper and more complexly interwoven.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Can I assume Neo's magic itself is something like faint or moderate (our level)?"
"Ahh," Syval vocalizes as the glow shifts to the edges of his eyes, lingering quietly at a lessened intensity, like steam wafting from a hot drink. "You hold a strong bond to her. And how did you earn a title like that?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Neo's magic is ... very old. There's a lot more to him. But he's not a spellcaster. He's not an innate arcane caster, like a True Dragon."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "So his aura is very old but not especially strong, fitting of a normal magical creature?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "I would say he seems like he's probably around CL 10ish, which seems high for a pseudodragon."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Oh snapski!"
"Ssssstrrrronger than you know, Ssssyvallll." Neosodos responds with a cheeky little grin. "Earrrrn title, perrrrsistance. Deterrrrrmination. Wissssdom." Then he withdraws down to Jyslin's lap and curls up there, allowing her to eat in 'peace'.
Jyslin smiles down at her lap full of lizard and pets him a bit more before resuming her dinner. "Sorry. I know he's being mysterious. It's one of his things. He likes doing that."
"Is that where you learned it from?" Syval teases as he unfolds his arms and resumes his meal. After a couple bites, the green-haired wizard hisses out something with a bit of antelope in his mouth, mimicking with surprising fidelity the lizard's growling, hissing accent. To Jyslin's ears it may be so much noise, but to the pseudodragon, "<Tell me more later.>"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Languages: Common, Draconic O:)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale is halfway into coming up with a plausible origin for that. "I'm thinking studies with the Alliance where I dove into anything they had on dragons, as the pinnacle of arcana, scraped together a little linguistic knowledge from the scant records of human/dragon interactions and magically-induced language translation that were performed around them."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "The problem is no one has anything remotely like a complete record of draconic as a language and the dragons aren't big on sharing that with humans or other lesser races in general. I'm not sure how to explain Syval's leap of proficiency here to a level beyond all of the sources available to him."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Comprehend Language works on reading/writing but not speech, but... I also have him using draconic words as the verbal component of his spells, since he's an innate caster channeling his spark, which is of draconic nature."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale might have pieced some of it together through meditation and magical study, but if he realizes...
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Sorry I'll take this to Discord. This is getting long."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Arguably, it could simply be ancestral knowledge. That thing where it's coded into your genetics (weird theorycrafting stuff)"
<OOC> Syval Greenscale nods. "Oh in actual fact it's something innate to me, but it's not something I'd realize I can speak ex nihilo. I'd need to encounter draconic to realize I can comprehend it where others can't, unless it just wells up out of me naturally like for spell-casting (see Discord)."
<OOC> Syval Greenscale is just trying to piece Syval's own explanation for it, since otherwise it's a big flag like his fast healing is.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Much more telling though since it's specific to a species."
Jyslin chuckles and shrugs her shoulders. "A bit from him. A bit from Andie. Maybe a bit from the priestesses at the Hall of the Heavens." She tries not to say in any definitive sense who or what she is, because a lot of people don't like it. They're uncomfortable. Creeped out. And she doesn't want any trouble. SHe just wants to visit the city with Andie, and then move on.
Neosodos listens, but does not visibly respond to what Syval has said. But he doesn't say no, either. For now, he adjusts his wings, ruffles a bit beneath the petting from Jyslin, and rests. He can feel his mistress coming; she will be here soon.
<OOC> Syval Greenscale says, "Ack."
<OOC> Vanya licks.
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li slurps.
<OOC> Vanya !
<OOC> Vanya, faint blush. ^_^
<OOC> Vanya says, "--Oh right, the chimera not the nymph."
<OOC> Vanya flexes and looks around like she meant to do that.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "And the tiger, not the leopard."
<OOC> Syval says, "True! And the dragon, not the chimera."
<OOC> Syval says, "Who is maybe not as playful as the chimera or as cute as the nymph but he knows the lands you mean to travel through."
<OOC> Syval says, "Thank you!"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "You're welcome. :)"
<OOC> Syval says, "Oh by the way, do you have any kind of automatic pose separator setup in BeipMU?"
<OOC> Syval gets back into the scene mindset in the meanwhile.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "No. I mod the log before I repost it, inserting [repeat(-,76)] between each pose."
The brawny young man smiles in amusement after swallowing. "Well, I suppose you're entitled to some of that living as you are. How soon do you all plan to head on?"
"Tomorrow. The next day at the latest, I assume." Jyslin answers honestly. She does not expect Andie to choose to remain here very long. Her guess is that they stopped largely so that her beloved friend could have a nice, long hot soak of a bath and a meal that neither of them had to hunt, catch, skin, or prepare. It's a nice treat for them all, really. "I am afraid we are not really much for cities and civilization, at least not for any long timeframes."
"I've never felt too at home in them either," Syval admits as he looks around the busy tavern. "They're too loud and... hard, like it's all surrounded by dead rocks built to keep out nature," he complains, making a face. "It's a wonder any of these mages can feel the Art from here."
"Maybe that's why some of them hide away in towers..." the green-haired young man considers around a draft of beer.
Jyslin considers the young man's words carefully, not responding right away. She mulls it over, lets it flow through her mind and around. Then she nods. "It's true. They are loud and chaotic, full of meaningless sounds." She has incredible senses of sight, sound and smell, and being in a city is hard for her. But to be fair, she has spent a couple years learning to deal with that, and now a couple of years learning to embrace her wild side in the wild. She's at peace with that, now.
"But people put up walls to keep themselves safe. They want nature to stay out, because much of nature wants to eat them. They are not as fast, as strong, as powerful as much of nature. Their one advantage is their brains and what they can do with them, especially together." And hence cities. Jyslin shrugs a little and continues eating, working on finishing her meal. After a bit, she speaks once more. "I think the wizards build towers for their own penultimate expression of the same thing: to rise up to see further; walls to keep out not just dangerous nature, but their own fellow humanity. To rise above them in learning, in power, and in wisdom or so they hope."
OK. So apparently Jyslin has actually thought of this before.
"Now you're starting to sound like one of the elder wizards," Syval chuckles, surprised by the scope of the priestess' answer, and it shows on his face. "That's how they would explain it. Still... it feels wrong. Turning away from the Art is wrong. Maybe they're just not living right."
Jyslin shakes her head. "I do not think they are turning away from the Art." she answers. "But I would not disagree that they are turning away from Nature. They are often one in the same, together with one another. But not always. They are not synonymous." As much as those like herself often find them to be so.
"Well they aren't very good at it," Syval derides brazenly. For anyone else, those might be fighting words in this tavern. "All that study to learn how to fly and turn into a mouse? And I would bet two people in this room would know what Neosodos is and what kind of magic he's attuned to."
Jyslin chuckles wryly at Syval's declaration, and does not question him or push at his conclusion. That is not to say she agrees with him. "That may be true. But I doubt any of those in this room have a tower of their own right now." she offers wryly while patting the tiny dragon in her lap.
As the two sit and chat, a murmur passes through the crowd around the tavern. It is not hard at all to zero in on what is causing that murmur and the falling silence: a woman with dusky red hair tumbling down her shoulders and quite literally reaching her rump, dressed in a golden-trimmed jade green simple gown. It is not at all hard to realize that this must be Jyslin's companion, 'Andie'.
Most interestingly, quite possibly, is that Syval cannot detect this woman's magic. She most certainly must have magic; she has a familiar, and Neosodos is far too special to be common at all. But somehow she has blotted herself out of those senses.
And Andie strolls across the room, smiling and offering slight nods towards this or that patron of the tavern, as she approaches Jyslin, her hand lightly resting on her friend's shoulder. "Good evening, Jyslin. Neo. I see you have found someone interesting to share your meal?" And her milky green jade eyes fall upon Syval, boring deeply while making no attempt to do so. It's just ... a natural state, or so it feels.
Jyslin makes introduction. "Andie, this is Syval. Syval, this is my friend and companion, Andie."
Syval perks and his head turns wolf-like towards the source of commotion. The magic still lingering at the edge of his vision rises back to haze his eyes and what he sees, or rather what he doesn't, seems to catch the young man's attention even more than her hair and dress.
Meeting her gaze directly, Syval looks up to the woman with one brow raised with interest and nostrils dilated. "Well met," he offers, lifting his drink in salutation. "Your friend and - familiar told me a little about you. Come, sit if you have time. We were just talking."
Syval can likely catch Neosodos peeking out and up from Jyslin's lap towards Andie, and she quite naturally - and without looking - extends her hand to scritch the wee dragon's head and around under his chin. "Good evening, Syval." she offers, a warm and rich mezzo-soprano voice, a contrast to Jyslin's alto tones but a close compliment. "Thank you kindly for your welcome." she draws out another of the chairs and sits down between the two, closer to Jyslin than Syval for what must seem obvious reasons.
"I see you decided to find the most subtle companion of the evening that you could." Andie teases Jyslin with comfortable ease, clearly meaning no offense and none being taken. The ashen blonde smiles wryly at that. "To be fair, Andie, he sought me out. But I have found his conversation and company quite acceptable and interesting."
"I am sure that you have." Andie murmurs. The soft leathery rustling indicates that Neosodos has likely resituated himself to Andie's lap rather than Jyslin's now. "Warrior, wizard, wanderer, and marked early on, a firm stamp of the power at the core."
"You have good eyes - but most of that is easy to spot, no?" Syval assesses as his hand moves to brush the haft of his ever-subtle bardiche. A mundane wizard he gives little impression of being. His own eyes peer back unflinchingly open, radiating the quiet command of power and confidence, but with the same spark of insight that flavored Jyslin's conversation until now. "What else do you see?"
The lady witch - and with that hair, those eyes, that mein, she could be nothing else frankly - watchings young Syval quietly for a bit. Then, at last, she stops looking into him and looks at him, meeting his gaze and curiosity with her own. "I believe, Syval, the first question I must ask would be: are you sure you want to know? Being aware of what I am, who I am, what sets me apart, are you sure that you truly want the answers to that question?"
"Yes, absolutely," Syval answers immediately, without hesitation or thought. "But... frankly I don't expect to hear anything I don't already know. Others have tried," he admits before gesturing to the witch's empty space at the table. "At least let me buy you a drink for the reading."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas chuckles ryly.
<OOC> Syval says, "And yes I'll be paying for that drink. I'm not going to cheat Jyslin's hospitality. ;)"
<OOC> Syval says, "How'd I earn that chuckle?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "He just challenged a Sister Alvameer, that she wouldn't be able to read anything from him. :)"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "It's amusing."
<OOC> Syval says, "He might have been goading her just a little there, but also tempering things in case she does fail to read more deeply than the others."
"I see a lone, squalling child, covered with the afterbirth and mother's blood, lain amid the spring vines and leaves of an ancient forest." Andie answers to start with, just to get things going. She waits for him to recover, and to get her drink, before she continues. Jyslin is visible listening with rapt attention, well aware that something special is happening here, if not all of how or why. "I see a terrible visage in emerald shadow behind and above the squalling child, and a roar that shatters the sky, a gas that melts the lungs and liquifies metal."
Andie falls silent, then, but it seems patently obvious she is simply not saying what she sees, as she accepts her drink and sips slowly.
Syval's brow furrows at first in concentration as he turns from speaking and like Jyslin to listening. The sandy-eyed, towering young man imagines the scene, perhaps expecting cryptic imagery before the truth starts to dawn on him. His hair bristles and the sun-baked mage pales when part of the witch's description strikes a chord and his heart pumps an extra pulse.
More alert and attentive now than he's seemed the whole evening, Syval watches and waits for Andie to continue. It's safe to say his own drink is completely forgotten.
<OOC> Syval afk for phone and food.
Andie gestures towards Syval's vacated seat, and she waits for him to return to it before she dares continue; she can tell she has his attention, and she'll be doling this out at her pace, not sharing it with anyone but her companions, whom she trusts implicitly, and the young man so affected by this news.
When one asks such insights of a Sister Alvameer, even unknowing of her status, one gets answers. They may be dark, terrible, nigh-unfathomable answers. But you get them, along with they wight they press upon.
"I hear a great roar that fills the air and robs the limbs of will. Then I hear what seems almost like a man's voice, making words the like of which no man's mouth could shape, invoking great power not of the Mistress, but out of blood and will itself. A terrible burden, and a great possibility upon the emerald road ahead." Andie continues, then pauses once more to sip her wine and let it all flow past her, through her, without being overwhelmed by it. Few indeed have been those with such a mark upon their souls, but his is not the first she has encountered. Merely the first in quite a long time.
<OOC> Syval says, "Back."
<OOC> Syval deep inhale, deep exhale. "Sorry for the long gap there."
<OOC> Syval says, "Vacated seat?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Nah. I'm still here. Ish."
<OOC> Syval hugs. "I meant the pose, hon, but it's nice you're still around."
<OOC> Syval says, "If you need to zip off for something though don't let me keep you."
Syval listens, what else is he going to do? And as he listens, his breath comes a bit faster, puffing through his nose. His eyes narrow again, subtly, as he tries to piece together the second piece of her reading. Most, though perhaps not all of the witch's implications are getting through.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas had assumed he'd gotten up to get her a drink and was coming back.
<OOC> Syval says, "Oh! Sure let's go with that. :)"
"You will come, Syval, to a crossroads of choice, of identity, of path. None can necessarily see which branch you will choose. Both hold great, but very different potentials, either embracing and building upon the identity you have already constructed, or in building something wholly new upon the discoveries that lie ahead." Andie glaces at Jyslin, who is rather enamored of all of this, and smiles ruefully. "The choice will be entirely your own. But when that time draws near there will be others who can advise you, understanding one fraction or another of the challenges ahead." Then Andie finishes her drink and looks back at Syval. "At this time, my friend, that is all I am permitted to share with you. But, once that crossroads has been passed, if you can find me I can grant you further knowledge. Even I have rules that must be obeyed."
Less shocking and more prophetic, the green-haired young man sits and ruminates on the witch's next and apparently last revelation. A crossroads and a new life... Syval turns to his beer and stares at it a moment as if having to recall how his limbs work before taking the glass and drinking. The lukewarm refreshment seems to clear his mind and restore a normal pallor to his cheeks, and the wizard wipes his lips on the back of his hand before looking back at Andie. His eyes are calmed - enlivened but once more under control. "So you won't tell me what I am." The statement, not a question, brings the topic fully into the open.
"What you are, Syval, is your choice. It is what you make of fate's touch upon your life." Andie answers. "I can tell you that you are far more than you even now suspect. You are everything you have always seen yourself to be. And you are something else. Something more. You were touched deeply, while still in the womb of the woman who bore you and died giving birth to you, by an ancient and powerful magic gone awry. It awakened something within you that has grown as you have grown."
Andie glances at Jyslin, and the ashen blonde woman's darker green eyes brighten, their amber backlighting heightened for a few moments. The priestess then speaks, "What has grown within you has always granted you unique talents and benefits. Health. Vitality. Strength. Heightened senses. Keen awareness. And, as Andie mentioned, a powerful talent for the Art. When that finally comes to fruition, some might view you as a monster. But only you can make the decision of what and who you will be. And the consequences of that choice will lie upon your shoulders in final judgement."
Interesting that the priestess would speak up, there.
<OOC> Syval says, "--White Witch."
<OOC> Syval says, "How did I miss that on the map before?"
<OOC> Syval /eyes/ Andie.
Interesting and puzzling if Syval's shifting gaze is an indication, but the pair's message is received and the young man nods to it solemnly. He has plenty to ponder on his own time now, reflections towards the future, insights into the past. As pensive as their nature, it would be a good time for a wizard to brood and reflect in solitude, or perhaps merely stun.
"Jyslin said you're traveling to the White Bog Woods on the other side of the Toadsquat Mountains. Would you like to hire a guide?" Syval asks directly, with clarity and focus snapping back to his eyes like the flash of a fire struck and kindled.
<OOC> Syval should wind down for bed before her next pose. She just noticed the time.
Andie nods to Syval's statement. Yes, indeed we are." she answers, affirming the information he already had. She considers Syval curiously, pondering. Do they need a guide? No. Of course not. But the question is a different one for her: is this a situation into which she can afford to insert themselves, to tilt the balance of the result? Many arguments can be made, to be sure, for a hands-off approach. but a hands-on approach could be interesting.
Andie glances at Jyslin, who appears pretty impassive on the subject. Andie then looks back to Syval and nods. "Certainly. Why not? I assume a gold per day will be sufficient and acceptable? As well as an equal third of any treasure gained from any encounters along the way. Is that acceptable, Syval?"
<OOC> Syval yawns. z.z
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas pets. Smooches.
<OOC> Syval <3
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas hopes that's an OK arrangement?
<OOC> Syval might haggle up but is tempted to take it. That seems good.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "What do you think of Andie? :)"
<OOC> Syval says, "It should be easy money if we keep to the road and 1/3rd of plunder is a nice insurance if anything unexpected does come up. Besides I don't consider being a guide difficult work; this suits my purposes as well as yours."
<OOC> Syval says, "She is as cryptic as Jyslin lead me to believe. :)"
<OOC> Syval says, "I do not fault her for her witchiness."
<OOC> Syval says, "Of course she was clear enough I've got some idea (ICly) of what she was saying."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "She isn't usually cryptic like that; but it's part of the contract for prophetic and visionary powers; you can't just give it all away easy."
<OOC> Syval says, "It was very appropriate."
<OOC> Syval says, "Besides that this gives her a little more control. Why give it all away even if she could?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Oh, Andie likes people. She'd do it in a heartbeat if it wasn't breaking the rules."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "She's not out for personal power or aggrandizement. Or she'd be using her full name."
<OOC> Syval says, "As evidenced, Jyslin?"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "She and Jyslin are very close. It's a long story I will enjoy doling out tiny bits of over time."
<OOC> Syval smiles.
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas tucks in dragon with a purse of gold to clutch like a plushie.
<OOC> Syval snickerfits.
<OOC> Syval says, "Thanks for the scene. SLeep well when you do, kitty. :)"
<OOC> Syval says, "Try not to stay up too late tonight. ;)"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "You too, sweetie. I will try not to stay up too late."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Is it OK to ask what your weekend looks like?"
<OOC> Syval says, "Always! It's pretty blank, but I've got a couple things I want to slot into it somewhere."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Well, more RPs can happen this weekend and Monday, given I'm not going anywhere. We can stay in touch on Discord and arrange things."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Now shoo. Off to bed, honey."
<OOC> Syval says, "Heh. Yes'm. And thank you I will keep that in mind. :)"
<OOC> Syval says, "And I think we have RESCUE tomorrow afternoon to start with."
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "We do? Great!"
<OOC> Jyslin Brenlas says, "Nini, honey."
<OOC> Syval says, "I assume so at least."
<OOC> Vanya says, "Ahh. It is still a nice feeling to have plenty of food. ~u~"
<OOC> Vanya says, "Thank you for waiting and for the backscroll. :)"
<OOC> Vanya says, "Oh my. And a lot of backscroll it is!"
It's not a king's ransom for what the stocky wizard can bring but then to a witch and a priestess, Arts may not be worth what they are to common folk. Syval considers the offer for a few seconds, perhaps weighing it on the balance of faster, local jobs on more familiar trails, then nods his head. "Yes. That's a deal I can make."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li does some 'back of the napkin math'
<OOC> Vanya says, "Hm?"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "The trip is roughly 600mi. Trying to figure out what that is in overland travel."
<OOC> Vanya says, "With or without filler episodes? :)"
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Roughly 24 days."
<OOC> Vanya says, "That's on one of the PSRD pages I think, for movement. Tactical and over-- thank you."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "30' walking speed translates to 24 miles per day. Easy round to 25. So 4 days per hundred."
<OOC> Vanya nods. "Plus some for dealing with random encounters maybe, but since we'll be using a road there won't be any terrain penalties reducing the 30'."
<OOC> Vanya says, "Around a month in any case... assuming Shaar has a similar calendar to us."
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li says, "Bah! Roads! Where we're going, we don't need roads!"
<OOC> Vanya says, "Or I guess to the romans in general... which I think derived from a lunar month originally so... assuming they have the same moon phase?"
Andie simply nods, almost as if the answer were some foregone conclusion. Then again, to a witch perhaps it was? There's just no telling. Beings of mystery they are indeed.
Jyslin smiles at this and offers a little bob of her head, not as if she knew the answer, but as if she is pleased with it. "Good then. We'll leave the inn about an hour before dawn tomorrow." she explains to the stocky wizard. And ain't that early! "We'll stop briefly about a mile outside the city walls. And then be on our way for well and truth. That will amount to likely around three tendays." Jyslin naturally uses the Shaaren - and indeed Realms-wide term for their 'week'. The priestess then looks at Andie, judging for a moment, and then back to Syval. "To be fair, we'll double the rate, since you will eventually need to return."
Andie looks as if she is about to stop Jyslin, but the other woman meets that gaze unflinchingly. "Right is right, Andie." The witch sighs slightly, and then inclines her head.
And that Jyslin then reaches to her hip ... and touches a very cleverly disguised seam in her robe, running her finger along it. The seam opens, and fingers dip inward, extracting a small silken sack, which she then lays down on the table in front of Syval. "We'll pay a quarter of that expected cost now, in advance, so that you can obtain any supplies you do not already have for a journey of such length."
Inside the little pouch, when explored, is a stack of fifteen gold coins, most notable for the fact that Syval has most likely never seen their stampage anywhere before. They appear to be a derivation of Dethek runes (dwarven).
Syval smiles in cool gratitude to Jyslin at the instant raise and slides the pouch closer to himself before opening it and brushing the stacks with his fingertips to count them - not quite exposing them fully to the room but also not bothering too greatly to conceal them. A habit learned perhaps from somewhere less safe than an academy pub.
"And you're moving on foot or will there be a pack animal?"
Jyslin smiles and shrugs. "We tend to travel afoot. We've nothing against horses, mind you. But sometimes they object a bit to us. Or at least to me." She does not explain further, but Syval has been able to pick up enough of her scent, even with limited experience making such things out, that he should be able to comprehend how that might be true. Horses are at their core rather skittish creatures.
Andie just shakes her head at Jyslin. "I don't mind horses. But I've never been afraid of just walking. I don't much let it bother me." Truth is, she could probably teleport, but she is too naturalistic in her ways. She would only do so in need, and this is not a need that great. "We travel lightly, so the lack of pack animals has never bothered us."
"You'll want to forage as we travel then," Syval infers and looks on a guess towards Jyslin. "That suits me fine as well."
Andie nods. "Yes. Forage, and hunt." She gestures with a finger away from her mug towards Jyslin. "She finds that rather entertaining."
Jyslin gives a mock pout at Andie, and shrugs. "She's not wrong, of course." Not that she's explaining, but she is at least admitting the truth of the situation. "Neo likes to hunt some, too, though not nearly as much as I do."
The little lizard 'decloaks', his simple camouflage ability relaxing as he lets himself return to a sort of umber-maroon coloring. "Yehzzzzz. Prrrreferrrrr calm. Quiet. Carrrrry."
Syval grins at the small dragonoid but doesn't remark, perhaps to avoid the eldritch wyrm's ire for what he's thinking. "I think that's all that is needed then," he concludes while slipping the coins out of sight with a distinctive metallic jingle before offering Jyslin the empty pouch back. "We'll meet at the north gate?"
Jyslin glances at Andie, who inclines her head just slightly. The ashen blonde then turns back to Syval, nodding. "Yes. North gate, forty minutes before dawn." It will take them twenty minutes to get through the city, and likely to then clear the queue of those preparing at the gates for exit. They may even have to negotiate to get the gates to open for them before dawn. Many city-states just refuse to open the gates between nightfall and dawn.
<OOC> Vanya is good to close here. :)
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li tacks that log shut.
<OOC> Vanya hugs. <3
<OOC> Jhiao Ting Li huggles and smooches.
<OOC> Vanya spins and takes to ground. Kiss, kiss.
