In which there is pie

The huge oruch trudges in from the east, coming over the bridge, and walks slowly through the rain in the marketplace. He pauses in a planned-seeming way, as if significant cogitation had gone into this. He debates the stallkeeper over the price of ... a blanket.

A darkly hooded figure makes their way through the marketplace. Cowl pulled low to obscure the features, but nothing can obscure the fact that Zeke is sith-makar. His tail flicking up and down, left to right, is too much an indication of that. As is his blue-scaled snout poking out from beneath the hood. For a sith-makar he is quite tall, nearly seven feet tall, and so there's very little he can do to hide his personage. That being said he does try. Zeke makes his way nimbly through the market, trying to avoid the people as he picks out his path determinedly heading toward a food stall.

"Thiss one would like a breakfassst meal pleassse." Zeke's thick accent is easily heard over the crowd by virtue of how deep his voice is.

"Oi," says Sandy as she makes her way out of the Moon. She's just opened her shop for the day and seems to be in the process of making sure that all is well on the front stoop.

Faranth slips quietly through the myriad of stalls, Her hood down revealing her scaled face. She pauses here or there to look at the goods being sold, talking quietly in the noisy market with the merchant selling whatever it is she is looking at. All the while she keeps a tight hand on a small leather bag, holding it with one hand close to her body.

Azog does a little bit if back and forth with the vendor, though he has no talent for it and little enough interest. In his favor, the stallkeeper is nervous about a seven foot oruch looming in front of him. Eventually awkward negotiations are completed and coins change hands, and Azog is awarded a roughly-woven blanket. He looks up as Sandy appears out of her shop, just across the street, and he thinks back to last week. "Svarshan," he calls out to her, "misses you terribly. Have you seen him recently? He is afraid you were kidnapped or something bad happened to you." Azog knows that Sandy generally happens to other people.

Zeke's stall is close enough to Azog and Sandy that he happens - quite by accident - to overhear Azog's words. Interest piqued the sith-makar turns his head toward the conversation. His expression, shrouded as it is, is curious. Then a moment of realization dawns over him and he quickly turns away again, waiting with sudden impatience for his food to be made. The food in question seems to be some kind of deliciously scented pie.

Azog is not hard to overhear, calling out as loudly as he did. He moves closer, tells Sandy further, "He'd even left his swiftclaw behind in his haste to try and find you." He nods gravely at the paladin's earnestness. "It is good that you are well. He was worried about you." Azog, on the other hand, was quite sure Sandy was fine. "Did you hurt many people?" he asks curiously.

The scent of meat pie draws the attention of another of the sith-makar who makes her way over to the pie vendor that Zeke is standing at. Faranth bumps into him as she is perusing the selection of food. A sideways apology escape her lips before she looks over at who she bumped into. When she sees Zeke, she lets out a small exclamation. "Ah, the tea drinker."

A startled hiss escapes Zeke as he's bumped into, and he jumps away from Faranth. His breathing is quickened, his eyes wide as he slowly realizes that it's another sith-makar that bumped into him. One that he recognizes in fact. His tail flicks, his inner eyelids blink another sith-makar could tell at a glance that he's an inch from pure panic. Ready to leap away at a moment's notice. "Yesss. Thisss one isss Zeke." Nervousness makes his accent even thicker.

Azog peers at Sandy, but nods. "I had thought as much. If I see him, I will assure him that you are fine. Not that Svarshan seems like the chain-yanking type. Though with him it's hard to tell sometimes." He admits, "I do not understand Sith humor at all, I think." Not that he understands -any- humor. But Sith are even stranger, to him.

Faranth tilts her head at Zeke's reaction. "Faranth. Mal Gein had to stay home today." She looks around the market and hisses out a chuckle. "Can you imagine the damage he would do here?" She looks back at Zeke. "You have nothing to fear from me." She turns back to the stall and selects one of the pies, cautiously withdrawing a number of coins from the tightly gripped leather bag in her left hand.

"Thisss one wasss merely sstartled." It is clearly a lie. How or why Zeke would lie about such a thing is not immediately apparent, but he is offered his pie alone with a tall cup of tea at the same time Faranth is. Uncertainly he looks around a bit, before uttering a soft sigh and sitting on one of the stools in front of the stall. It's really more of a front for the little shop behind it.

Azog follows Sandy's gaze over to the other two Sith, closeby, then he looks back. Then he looks at the two Sith again, sitting down to lunch, perhaps? Back to Sandy again, "You know them?" he wonders.

Faranth gets her own pie from the stall, and watches Zeke sit down. She ponders for a few moments, then sits down on the stool next to him, settling her bulk before taking a long sniff of the pie, then biting in, savoring the flavor as some of the juices trickle down the scales of her jaw.

"Nope," is what Sandy says to Azog. Then she goes to give him a shove, "Go say hi, Azog. Make new friends," she tells him, shrugging her shoulders.

"Fresh lamb-apple pies!" The woman at the stall happily offers one to another passerby who after a moment's consideration takes one for themselves.

Zeke sits beside Faranth in silence, not really eating his pie just yet. Perhaps allowing it to cool, or perhaps... well his tail is still flickering nervously. His green eyes shift to his fellow sith, and after a moment he sets his tea aside so that he can pull down the cowl of his cloak. Blue scales twinkle merrily in the light, and he has six dark horns laying back along his skull. His green eyes look almost out of place, but their iridescence makes the color of his scales reflect in them warmly.

Azog is shoved. He doesn't actually move, though if she shoves hard enough she might push herself backwards? But Sandy gave him an instruction, so he will carry it out. he is a person of great honor, and Azog is always deferential. As much as he is to anyone. So he will walk over to where Zeke and Faranth are seated and bow his head, clearing his throat to draw their attention. "I bring you greetings," he says to them. "From myself, and from Lady Sandiel."

Faranth ignores the nervous Zeke as she savors the meat pie she selected. She enjoys the heat, and the feel of the dribble on the outside of her scales. Her eyes close as she takes in the flavor and aroma. Then she sets the pie down and uses her long toung to lick the drip off her jaw. She smiles broadly and turns to regard Zeke. "Is yours as good as mine?" She says after a few moments of trying to think of something to say.

Zeke blinks at Faranth, glancing at his meat pie. He clearly hasn't tried it yet. In an effort to be polite he lifts the pie a little and then there is an ourch standing there offering polite greetings that make Zeke's tail wag back and forth a little. "Peasssce on your nesst." He offers politely back, even adding a little bob of his head. "Thisss one iss Zeke... Iss Lady Ssandiel your companion?" This is accompanied by a little lift of the pie toward where the elf in question had been standing only a few seconds ago.

Azog says to Zeke, "The elf that was there was Lady Sandiel, yes." He nods, "She is not my companion, alas. She is married, to the woman that owns the Ox." He nods. You'd have to be that butch to ... well, it seems fitting to Azog anyhow. "It is good to meet you, Zeke," he says a bit formally. "Is this person your companion? I do not know the word in your tongue, though I hear Svarshan use it sometimes."

Faranth looks up at Azog and shakes her head in the negative. "I have met Zeke only twice. I am Faranth. Well met." She shifts in her stool and glances back at her unfinished pie.

For a moment Zeke is about to say something, but he merely opens his jaw and shuts it again before ducking his head. Though the suggestion that he and Faranth are... together makes his tail flicker madly behind him as he tries not to look at the female sith-makar. He seems glad when she answers the question. "Thisss onesss only kin is Chay and Chay's kin whom thisss one hass yet to meet." His words are startling among the sith-makar who usually form at least moderately sized tribes. His inner lids blink. Hiding something as well.

Azog thinks that name seems familiar, but he can't place it, so he just shrugs. Sith clan structures are as strange to him as oruch tribes are to others, perhaps? He bows his head. "Good day, then, Zeke and Faranth.," he says. "Please do not let me interrupt you."

Faranth lets a frown spread across her muzzle and she looks up at Azog. "Are we to have the pleasure of your name sir before you depart?" She looks over at the merchant selling the pies. "If you wish, you could join us. I'm sure there are more pies left."

Zeke glances from Azog to Faranth and back again, his tail calming behind him. Then with a little nod mostly to himself he offers his own bit of welcome. "You are welcome to join usss if you wisssh."

Azog ohs, had assumed he was known. "I am Azog, of the Lightning Maul tribe," he says. "I can join you, though I have already eaten." He nods and takes the offered seat. "Thank you."

Faranth turns her attention back to her own meal, taking another bite. This one much quicker than the last, without all the savoring. She then moves slightly so that she can see both men. "What was that the elf was saying about making friends?" She asks of Azog.

With Azog joining them Zeke finally takes a very delicate bite of his pie - no juices running down the jaw here. It's almost comical to watch him eat the pie with little itsy bitsy bites so that he doesn't make a mess of it. Sith-makar jaws are not particularly made for delicacy, and where Zeke fails a tongue flickers out to catch it up. He hums low in his throat in approval and follows the food up with a little bit of his tea. Which again is interesting to watch him drink. He adds nothing to the conversation at the moment however, content to eat his pie and listen.

Azog shrugs about making friends. "Sandy is quite concerned for my welfare. I am not sure why. She is a confusing person, generally," he admits. He will sit so he can face both Sith also, putting us in a sort of circle. "Or perhaps she wished to be left alone. Her motivations are obscure."

Faranth lets out a long hiss that sounds almost like her imitation of a chuckle. "Isn't that true of all elves?" She gets distracted momentarily watching Zeke eat his pie, and shakes her head while finishing off her own. She turns back to the large oruch. "Why would your well being be affected by making friends?"

Zeke puts down the pie for a moment and tilts his head at Faranth. "Among the people tiess to one another are very important." His words take on a slightly shadowed mien. "Thisss iss why thosse without kin ssseek out kin. Thiss sseemss to be true of other racess asss well."

Azog shrugs to Faranth about his well being and making friends. "That, I do not know. Not that I have many friends in the city. I live out on the land most of the time. I am not partial to cities, generally speaking." To Zeke, he admits, "I am far from my family and clan in Dran, and there are none here in the city who are close. Even the other oruch have different values."

Faranth regards Zeke's words and seems to have an aha moment as Azog fills in the details. "So your tribe is not here with you." She nods her head. "I understand not having friends in the city. I myself feel much more comfortable in areas that have more grass and trees. It's one of the reasons Mal Gein and I care for the plants around town. No being should be made to grow up without seeing the beauty of nature."

"Thisss one too undersstandss the lack of kin." There's that sadness again, deeper this time than it had been before. His pie lands in his lap delicately. "You are a hunter though yesss? Are you not part of the grand hunter-caste here in Alexandria?" Zeke's curiosity is a gentle one.

Azog shrugs about the beauty of nature. "I have no particular love for nature, for all that I am at home there, yes, and I think I fit into the hunter caste, though I do not ... as they say, hang out. Sith revere nature more than others, I think, because Am'Shere is a much harder land than Alexandria. Am'Shere demands respect and punishes lack of vigilance. Alexandria much less so. But no," he agrees, "my tribe is not here. My tribe fell on hard times, and I and some others were left in the care of a monastery while my tribe struggled on. I do not even know if they are still alive."

Faranth reaches out and puts a hand on Azog's shoulder. "The Sandy elf was correct. Friends are a good thing." She nods then sits back down on the stool.

The blue-scaled sith looks at Azog for a long moment, nodding along with Faranth. "The People ssay that one can not live without kin; thisss one knowss that ssuch a thing iss untrue... but it doess hurt to be without them. Thisss one wisshess peasce upon your nessst in the hopess that your kin are well."

Azog nods gravely to both Sith, accepting their hands and their wishes. "I hope they are well, too," he agrees. "I have come here to win honor, for myself, but also for my clan."

Faranth stands and nods to both men. "Forgive me, but all this talk of friends. I must return to Mal Gein before he eats a forest." She offers a handshake to Azog. "It was good to meet you Azog of the Lightning Mauls. I have no doubt that your exploits bring them pride." She turns to look at Zeke. "Just because some may have turned their backs, does not mean that all will. We are a long way from Am'Shere, and blood is blood. There are Sith who would stand beside you if you wish it." She turns and begins threading her way through the throng, her left hand still clutching tightly to the leather bag.

"Fare well Faranth." Zeke offers to the retreating sith-makar. He watches her make her way through the market until she's out of sight before returning his attention to Azog. "I am told that among the huntersss that sseeking honor is... honorable." He makes a small amused noise and wags his tail. "If the persssuit of honor can be itself honorable."

Azog bows his head to Faranth and shakes her hand. "Thank you," he says to her, pleased by her words. He peers sidelong at Zeke when the talk turns to honor, and says, "Honor is defined differently by all people, I have found. But for me, honor is standing up to an enemy, and fighting them, and defeating them."

Zeke tilts his head to the side in a very raptor-like movement. A quick flick and it's clear he's thinking. "That ssoundss... Like ssomething I can undersstand. Though thisss oness enemy now is a plauge rather than ssomething bearing a weapon." He makes what is clearly an amused noise now. A low throaty chuckle. "You fasce more natural enemies I ssupposse?"

Azog snorts about the plague. "There is some benefit in bringing health to those who will die," he says. "But no /honor/. And I do not have that skill. I fight enemies who strike with steel. That is my skill. Honor is putting your own life in harm's way and emerging victorious. A healer is a good thing, but if there is no risk to self, then there is no honor."

The sith-makar lifts one eyeridge in interest. "Thisss one would disssagree, but that iss merely thiss oness opinion. Thisss one iss ssure that the hunter-caste rissks life more often. We all do what we can."

Azog shrugs. "Most people never risk their life. Not intentionally. But when bandits come to your farmhouse, is there more honor in hiding in the basement or fighting and dying? That is the sort of calculation that men and orks and all the races make every day. Oruch choose to fight, and many die for their honor. Humans mainly choose to hide, and live to see another day."

Zeke ducks his head a little and finishes off his pie before it can get too cold. He drinks the tea more slowly however, enjoying it much as he had the pie. "Not everyone can be brave, and thiss one hass found that everyone hass ssomething that they fear. Thiss one doess not fear a killing plague, nor the foess ssuch ass you fasce. But thiss one hass fear. Sssurely you can undersstand thosse who are not ass brave ass you in the fasce of thosse you fight?"

Azog nods slowly. "I have fears also. And magic can be used on me to give the effect of fear, though my heart is stout. But despite all that, I put my life on the line when it's needed. Anyone -can- do that. Few will. If they are not brave enough to face their foes, then what right have they to claim honor?"

"Perhapss their honor iss found in the fasce of those thingss which you fear." Zeke rolls his shoulders and rises slowly to his feet. "Think on thisss Azog. Thiss one musst go however. Thiss one hass ssick to attend to.”

-End