Fireside
Tenebrae - Thursday, April 09, 2015, 12:45 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* H03: Eldwyn Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Eldwyn Road meanders continuously around hills, wilderness, and farmland, though it is occasionally broken by fingerlets from the great Tornmawr. At one point, the road crosses the Tornmawr itself, which takes place by use of a ferry.
Further east and past the ferry are the great Redridge Mountains. These mountains, which run mostly north and south, charge through the landscape, and even through the eastern end of the Lord's City of Alexandria.
Towards the south is the city, with its flags rising far above the walls. The fiery Rising Phoenix almost glows in the sunlight and airships may be seen both in flight and in dock, as they make use of a carefully sculpted section of the Redridge.
Towards the north, the landscape of rolling hills and farmland breaks into denser forest.
The half-orc sitting on the other side of the fire glances up from her efforts, and her lips turn up at one corner. "Alexandria," she repeats. "I had hoped to find it. My Mother once lived here." She sets one of the rabbits down, to work on skinning the other. "I have business with people she used to know." She shrugs, letting the sound of skin being cut from flesh join the crackling of the fire. "You hold great disdain for it," she observes.
The fire is a small one, to the lee of a hill near the road. Small, but visible against the wan silver light of the full moon nonetheless. Around the fire, a half-oruch woman in armor cleans a brace of rabbits, conversing with a masked figure covered in a shaggy, blanket-like gray fur cloak. "Wetlanders defy reason," the voice behind the mask says. "They murder for coin, poison water a-purpose, that they may drink it and dull their wits... Madmen, all." A tiny scorpion skitters out from beneath her cloak, green-yellow in the flickering firelight, to sit on the figure's shoulder. "...Yet I am told that there is much I may learn from them. Hn. We shall see."
Munch crashes though the brush, heading back towards the proper road. Which honestly, the metal man isn't all -that- noisy, but he's not too concerned about being quiet. It's the large bag-thing dragging behind him that makes most of the noise, and the big branch over his shoulder isn't helping matters. Spying firelight, the golem heads towards it, curious.
Celeste grunts in agreement to the masked figure. "You should see how they behave in Charn," she mutters, mounting the rabbits onto a spit, one after the other. She seems content to leave it at that, as the meat starts to sizzle, held low over the flame. "You seem like you've got a proper dose of common sense. What brings you--" She stops, brow furrowing. She sits up straighter, looking over her shoulder towards the approaching noise. "What in hell...?"
"A promise," the masked woman says in answer to the aborted question, turning to regard the approaching metal man, and the stuck and bag drug behind it. "See," she says, head tilting to one side, "how even the statues gain life and do strangeness. Such is the way of this city, warrior."
Munch blinks, his magicite eyes closing with a soft click. "Nah, Alexandros, not Hell. I've never been, but pretty sure you'd notice the difference. Munch TerrorMaw; don't think we've met." Turning focus to Alba, the metal man peers a moment. "Don't think I've met you either... humans all kinda look alike, and that mask isn't helping matters... no offence. Anyway, golem, not statue. Was only a statue for a little while, and that was a basilisk thing."
"...I've seen this before," the half-oruch mutters, "in Charn." She eyes the approaching golem, and then shakes her head once it becomes apparent that it won't be hostile. She looks back to the rabbits, and turns them over, helping them to cook evenly. "It is unlikely that we would have met," she agrees, "Since I have only just arrived here myself."
"Golem," the masked woman says, correcting herself with the barest of nods. "You would be invited to share water, though for such as yourself it would lack point." Shifting in place, she continues to polish the skull in her hands, the clean bone beginning to shine in the firelight. "What is it, then, that brings a metal man to my fire in the depths of the night?"
Munch shrugs. "I've been other places. We could have met at one of them." He turns focus to Alba again, peering at the skull in her hands, curious. "Might be susprised, I also get called the Golem Who Eats. The drinking part doesn't get the same commentary, but I'm really more a brandy sort of guy. Anyway, was curious. Most folks this close push on towards the city, or lurk and sneak quiet-like. A campfire is a bit odd." Stepping a little more fully into the light, the metal man sets what he was dragging off to the side, where it makes a dull thump, a bit like a fuzzy drum.
"Is there something else we should call you, Golem who Eats?" Celeste inquires. She finally gets around to unbuckling the sling that supports her arms, and laying the trident and shield on the ground beside her. The rabbits receive another turn, and the warrior peers at them, inspecting the quality of the meat as it cooks. "The gates are closed," she adds. "And I would rather see it in daylight besides." She nods towards Alba, "She was generous enough to share water and fire, in return for food, so here I stay."
"There are ways into the city, this late," the masked woman says, lifting a shoulder beneath her heavy cloak. "But it is pleasant enough out beyond the brick and smoke and crush, there is little to be gained in making use of them, this night. Also," she says, turning the skull in her hands to face the golem, "time it gives me, to practice my art." With those words, she returns to her polishing, carefully smoothing away the bone to catch the firelight and gleam.
Munch repeats, not that it was clear. "Much TerrorMaw, and this is Reaver." The golem nods, and blinks again. "Oh, hey, right..." Reaching back, Munch grabs the handel over his shoulder, and draws his massive greataxe, setting the handel down by his feet and letting the curved dragonhead-blade rest against his stomach. "I've no need of water, thanks, but if you'd care to share food, you're welcome to it." Pulling foreward the 'branch' he'd been draging, Munch snaps off a joint, and offers it. A leg. And insect leg, some 6 foot long, altogether. "Bit like crab, once you roast it."
Celeste reaches out to gingerly accept the leg; she turns it over, inspecting it critically, before she shrugs nad lays it over the fire, rested on the spit. "My thanks," she replies. "I am called Celeste Cinderfall; since you give your name, only fair for me to give mine." She picks up a piece of deadfall to poke at the fire, and t hen add fuel to it. "Cities are only useful for so much," she adds, nodding to Alba. "They have nothing superior to the freedom of the open plains."
"Alba," is all the masked Veyshanti says, eyes turning to the insect leg as it's laid over the fire. "...Hn," she grunts after a moment, amused at some private musing... Which point the scorpion on her leg skitters up scross the polished expanse of her mask, to close a pincer over one ear. "Then for your food, my thanks." Apparently, she flat does not seem to notice the fact that she has a new earring, or that it's a live, poisonous bug.
Munch ehs. "Cities are places of Making, all piled together. The Making builds on itself, making more and greater than the bits alone could acheive. Lots of what people Make is useless; noise and footprints and stuff that piled together and made big is still pretty useless. But they also make neat stuff that is worth all the wasted space. Open plains are okay, I guess, lotta room to run. But I like mountains, with high ledges and sharp cliffs." The little leathery wings on the golem's back flutter a moment, far too small to be of any practical use. Well, without a healthy dose of magic. And given that this is a man built from metal, anythign is possible.
A soft grunt escapes the half-oruch's lips. "Whatever you prefer," she acknowledges. "The only city I've ever been to was..." She trails off, and shrugs, "Well, we'll just say I didn't like it, and I'm in no hurry to go back." Her eyes follow the progress of Alba's scorpion, until it dangles tenaciously from her ear. "Nice scorpion," is her only comment. She plucks one of the rabbits from the fire, evidently deaming it cooked, and offers it to the other woman, before taking the other for herself.
One of Alba's pigtails stirs to life. Snakelike, it slithers back up her shoulder and wraps around the scorpion's tail, depositing it atop her head and falling limp once again, as a dark-skinned hand reaches out to accept the rabbit, placing it atop a small wooden bowl normally used for grinding herbs. "Of cities, little I know," she says after a short silence, tearing the rabbit into shreds of meat. "The Dune Sea, was where I was born, and I knew not the city until days after Sarathrazz found me. One of the larger strips of meat, placed on her shoulder, and the scorpion scuttles down the side of her head to feast upon it.
Munch mmms. "I woke in the old nutters house. Folks too old to still be useful, too honored to be cast aside, and too senile to be let wandering loose. Usually they'd just putter around and remember the past and pass the time until they died. Sometimes insperation would strike, and one would make something useful, or at elast they thought was useful. Couple got together, and desided to do something really special. One last masterwork. They poured all their talent, all their experience, all their spark into one great project. When the dust settled, they'd given their lives to the effort, an I was left. Grown, but kinda ignorant. Took a long while before I even understood what it meant that they were dead. Folks on the outside, ones who were young and thought they knew better, wanted to take me apart, see how I worked. Knew they were too dumb to put me together again after, so I came here, did my own thing. Worked out pretty well so far." He blinsk at Alba again. "Who's 'Sarathrazz'?"
"I was born in the Vast. My Mother was from there," she nods towards Alexandria, "But wound up wandering, with my Father and the rest of my tribe. Honestly, it's better this way, I don't want to think what I'd've been like if I were born a pure human." She pauses, and glances down at one of her arms. "Probably half the size I am now." She takes a bite from her rabbit, and mms softly, enjoying the flavor of the roasted meat, still juicy. "I have reasons for coming back, though. We'll see how things pan out."
"Sarathrazz," Alba says, nodding to the scorpion on her shoulder... who lifts up the scrap of meat it's eating, tail flexing and quivering, before returning to its meal. The rabbit shredded, the Veyshanti lifts her mask to reveal sullen, dark eyes, a series of spidery, nonsense symbols tattooed from the corner of her eye down her cheek. "One day, I am wandering the Sea, alone and near death from thirst. I find a bug, and seek to make of it a meal to live another day. Instead it offers me power, promises that I shall never hunger or thirst. It leads me to water, then it leads me to the wetlands, and bids me stay and learn."
Munch peers at the little scoprion, the glow of his magicite eyes flareing for a moment. "...huh. Some bug." Glancing to Celeste, he shrugs. "Being small wouldn't be so bad. Lota of powerful stuff is small." Says the guy who looms like a Giantborn.
"Can't judge someone by size," Celeste agrees. She glances back to the scorpion, blue eyes examining the insect for a moment. In the end, she merely shrugs. "Fortunate that you encountered Sarathrazz, then," she observes. "Has he told you what it is that you are expected to learn, or is that part of the lesson?" She tears into the rabbit swiftly, and it doesn't take long before the meal is more or less polished off; especially with them not having been the biggest of rabbits.
"Only to stay, and to watch. And if it is displeased, it shall sting my face as I sleep," Alba says with a shrug, tucking shreds of meat into her mouth a bit at a time. "Thus, do I tolerate the mad wetlanders, and the foolish, and hunt when I wish to bite something." Glancing at Munch, the Veyshanti raises an eyebrow. "Power it keeps, but only to give to me as I learn the secrets it wishes me to learn."
Celeste hunhs. "Well," she muses, "I honestly hope you don't get stung in the face too often in your sleep. Sounds damned uncomfortable." She tosses the skeletal remains of the rabbit, more or less picked clean, off to the side; then slowly reaches for the insect leg. "Alright, let's see what this's like." She breaks off a piece of it at a joint, and tosses the rest to Alba, before cracking her portion open and sampling the meat inside.
Munch nods and shrugs, pondering. "All can really do is keep trying. Sometimes you do well, and sometimes you make mistakes. If my makers had any real goals for me, that knowledge died with them. I set my own path, and do as I chose. Not always wisely, but I try to learn from those mistakes." The golem's face splits open, along both the vertical and horizontal axis, row upon row of gleaming metal fangs within. Mechanical jaws snap upon the remaining section of uncooked leg, raw pieces pulled futher in to be ground to bits and swallowed.
Alba brings the steaming section of leg to her mouth, apparently unconcerned by the fact that she is about to eat a chunk of bug. Chitin splits under her teeth with a crunch, then wetly torn away to reveal the soupy meat within. Tipping back her head, she pours the ichorous slurry down her throat, raising an eyebrow at Munch's eating display. "...Hn," she grunts, once her drink is finished. "Golem-that-eats... fitting."
Celeste consumes her portion quite readily; food, afterall, is food, and there is no argument offered nor a nose turned up. The inedible parts are tossed away afterwards, in time for her to watch what Munch gets up to. "...Agreed," she adds, after Alba's observation. "Well. If it's all the same to the two of you, I'm going to snooze. I expect tomorrow will be long, and I should face it rested."
Munch nods and glances towards the position of the moon. "I should go. No need for sleep, and wizards are always up. They'll want their sample soonish. Figure I'll see you two around later." Grabbing up his axe, Munch picks up the drum-thing, a massive spider thorax... likely the same source as the leg, and heads towards the city.
"It is possible," Alba allows, "my thanks for your food." Tipping the rest of the cooked ichor into her mouth, she sets the cracked-open tube aside, and as Celeste turns over to sleep, the Veyshanti returns to her work, carefully polishing the wolf skull.