Away, You Rolling River

It's Kesenday, Aestry 08 12:16:26 1018. The full moon is up. The tide is high and rising. Everything is pale grey, veiled by mist. It's warm, humid, and still.

SUMMARY: A gathering at the Banks of the Tornmawr.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A08: Banks of the Tornmawr *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

In the shadow of the great Highbridge, and beneath the guardhouses, a stretch of river has been laid out as a public park and fishing area. Here, the descending landscape of Alexandria folds into the river and crafts a comfortable view. On a typical day, a number of small boats and picnic blankets dot the landscape. To the side, a small shrine to Rada the River Serpent, as well as a dual shrine to Althea and Daeus, in their guise as Mother and Father of the world.

Yelrona 's hair is damp and tied back, suggesting she's recently been swimming. Right now she is jumping from one rock to another while juggling three colored balls. Over and over again. She succeeds about half the time.

Sometimes people camp down by the river, especially in summer when the weather is high and the river is low. Presumably they can handle the pervasive smell of humanoid effluent. Today Iadoth is doing just that, and as the sun gets high, she pokes her head out from a bivouac in the rocks to see 'Rona hopping around her head.

GAME: Yelrona rolls acrobatics: (9)+10: 19 GAME: Yelrona rolls sleight of hand: (15)+10: 25

Yelrona successfully makes a leap to a tree stump at the outer edge of her range, spinning in mid-jump so she lands facing in the opposite direction, whereupon she notices the sylvanestri fur-seller from the other day. "Good morning!" she calls out cheerfully as the balls she was juggling seem to disappear in her hands. "I hope I didn't disturb you... I didn't see you there."

"You were not supposed to," Iadoth mutters, gruffly, and in sildanyari. "One should be well hidden when sleeping in the open. What are you doing?"

Yelrona nods, hopping lightly off the tree-stump. "Practicing," she replies in sylvan, before continuing in sildanyari. "I'm putting together a performance routine. Improvising only takes you so far, I've found... after that it helps a bit to know what I'm doing."

Not yet mid-day and the heat is already rising quickly. There are ways to avoid this while travelling. One simple option is the use of the Tornmawr. A ripple courses its way rapidly along the surface, seeminging a minor wake all its own.

"You are a tumbler?" Iadoth asks. Her face twists into a mask of uncertainty. "Do you perform with the Faring Folk, the Tsurai? Their tribes are filled with ... tumblers."

"I don't perform with anyone at the moment," 'rona admits. She pulls several colored silks off of her body and idly passes them back and forth between her hands as she chats. As she does so she palms some while releasing others, giving the effect of a single silk changing color... sometimes convincingly, sometimes not. "Unless you count the Temple of Tarien," she corrects herself with a chuckle. "There's always someone performing _something_ up there. That's what gave me the idea... it's good for paying rent, at least," she adds with a shrug. "I knew a few Tsurai back home... well, not _home_ exactly, we were almost all llyrinesi, but some friends would gather from nearby towns and, um, practice." She doesn't explain that most of those friends were thieves rather than performers, and the skills they practiced were of a somewhat different sort.

The ripple diverts from the channel towards the shore after passing beneath the northern span. As the water depth decreases, its height increases. By the time it reaches the bank, it is a singular wave cresting severa feet high.

"Watch out for the Tsurai," Iadoth warns. "They don't believe in personal property; everything belongs to the tribe. Well, unless it suits them." She tuts loudly, then notices the arriving wave. "Hmm."

Yelrona laughs. "Yes, that's certainly true of the ones I knew," she agrees. Of course, it was true of most of Kalniss' friends, whatever their culture of origin. "They--" she begins, then notices the wave as it approaches. She springs lightly up into a tree branch, watching it warily.

The wave reaches the shoreline, but doesn't break, precisely. It slows greatly upon reaching land, but it continues forward, and remains upright, after leaving the Tornmawr behind. After a feet feet, the slide becomes sloshing 'steps' as the base breaks into two vague limbs. Within two more of these steps, the water ripples further, surface tension pulling it into a more humanoid shape by the moment. Ebon scales then breach the surface, or rather, the water seems to be shed to nothing, and Un'eth's tail, now that it is present, thumps the ground. "Peace on your nests," she greets.

"And on yours," Rona replies, bowing her head briefly. Not for the first time, she also considers pointing out that elves don't _have_ nests, and decides that would be rude. "Nice trick," she says instead. "For a minute there I thought I was seeing the start of a wave of water elementals invading Alexandros to keep the demons company."

"It is no trick," Uneth explains, "and the elementals care nothing for the affairs of most, fiends or humanoids alike. They would intervene only if bid to do so."

"Peace on your nest, Mistress Wolf," Iadoth says, in sildanyari, and in her customary greeting to Un'eth. "A novel way to keep cool."

Perched at the edge of the highbridge above is a large figure, possibly a majestic specimen of the egalrin race, but his golden wings are in the wrong place--behind him more than would be natural for a bird. He raises his wings to let a gust of wind catch them up, and screeches into the sky. Then, as he abruptly launches himself off the bridge, all become clear as it shows that he is no egalrin, nor a giant eagle, but a griffon with the furry hindquarters of a lion, and bearing a rider, a sylvanori male in the colors chosen for forest camouflage. The griffon gradually descends to the riverbank, gliding gracefully on such breezes as the midday offers.

Yelrona looks a little puzzled at Iadoth's greeting to Un'eth, but before she can ask she'd distracted by a familiar screech. "Erithamiel!" she calls out delightedly, dropping out of the tree and greeting the griffon with a friendly ruffle. "And of course the Ettin-Slayer," she adds with a sly smile at Ga'Elian. "Well met." She looks around at the others and shrugs. "The river is a fine way to keep cool for us all, on a day like this."

"Excuse me," Iadoth says, as the crowd gathers around her bivouac. Her head is still poking out from the collected branches and leaves, leaving her body hidden behind. She retreats back into her temporary shelter, perhaps momentarily, perhaps not.

Un'eth dips her muzzle as Iadoth excuses herself, "Travel well, Huntress" Her attention shifts to Yelrona and then Erithamiel and Ga'elian, in turn. "Ettin-slayer?" Her head tilts.

Ga'Elian nods to Iadoth, just as she ducks back into her tent. Erithamiel's head jerks around, but his tail swings happily back and forth as a purr begins to thrum from deep within. Ga'Elian says, "Good day to you, Yelrona. And peace on your nest, Un'eth. I am just returned from the war lines of Dragonier where Erithamiel and I had been caught up in a skirmish with a few centaurs. I am stopping by Alexandria briefly to see how the demon scourge goes and to confer with others in the Explorers Guild regarding the missing mercenaries and supply caravan before heading over to Skyhold prison in the Desolation to try to pick up their trail." In response to Un'eth's question, he fingers the necklace of ettin teeth about his neck and says, "Yes. Well, several days ago, Yelrona here and some others invluding me were on a Guild job, when we were confronted by an angry ettin. By the blessing of the Huntress, I managed to take the brute down with a pair of arrows before he could land a blow." <sildanyari>

"...and there's a song about it!" Yelrona chimes in enthusiastically.

Ga'Elian nods in acknowledgement. He pats the griffon on the neck and says, "Erithamiel, go catch some fish" and makes a gesture of encouragement toward the river. Erithamiel looks, like a dog watching its boy throw a stick, then pounces off and into the water. <sildanyari>

Yelrona 's smile fades as the discussion turns to the fate of Dragonier. An important topic, but a depressing one. She focuses her attention on eliciting more purrs from Erithamiel, something she has a much better chance of doing successfully than she does intervening in these demonic, undead battles... then lets go as the griffon heads into the water. "So... not to add to the gloom and doom, but... well, what are we _doing_ about Dragonier?"

"What can be done," Uneth notes, "or so some of us do. Without an army, Heth cannot be confronted directly. With an army, there is no assurance that he will be stopped. Yet there is no army, as the softskins are locked in petty squabbles. Dun Mordren, Rune, and now the Binder Asumit. Until these are resolved, and Ea stands united, there is little that can be done directly."

Ga'Elian nods his agreement with the druid's response. He says, "We do help out in all these conflicts as the gods guide us. Some by joining the fight, others by succoring the refugees and battle-stricken, others by providing food and supplies. If you would get involved, I am certain that your willing assistance could benefit some effort or another." He removes his steel helm, quiver, and the belt, from which hang a rapier and a flail, then unstraps a dagger and its scabbard from his thigh, and lays all this weaponry in a neat pile by a rock, then bends over and allows his chain shirt to fall off as he wriggles it off his head. upon which he then sits and pulls off his boots. In the meantime, he says, "As long as Erithamiel is playing in the river, I think I shall join him and cool off a bit." He stands again and pulls the tunic off of his upper body and the trousers off his lower, and neatly fold the armor and clothing as he stands on the riverbank wearing naught but the tooth-necklace and the clear lenses that rarely leave his eyes.

Yelrona nods at the reference to Rune, which she's had some experience with, and looks uncharacteristically dejected at the rest of it. "It's almost like something is _deliberately_ turning us against each other," she muses. "Which I suppose could easily be true." She nods at Ge'Elian's comment about assisting in the effort... she'd been coming to similar conclusions herself. Helping snatch that magic-neutralizing woman from the warlord's guards was one thing, but there were also less adventurous ways to help.

Thoughts of war and politics leave her mind as Ge'Elian begins to strip, however, and she watches entertained as he does so. Music begins to play in the background as she invokes her Arcane Connection, the sort of raucous tune that would play in a strib bar, and she applauds when the ranger is done, before swinging herself back up into a tree. Shortly thereafter she drops down, equally unclothed, and dives into the river... much welcomed after the sweat she'd built up practicing her tumbles. "Join us!" she calls cheerfully to the druid.

Un'eth is possibly the least surprised, and concerned as one after another sildanyari undresses to enter the water. She does not wear true clothing, herself, afterall. Her cloak and beltsack are set aside as she moves to join them, despite only recently exiting the river.

As Alexandrians picnicking at the riverbank stare at the disrobing elves, Ga'Elian walks calmly to the water, confused at Yelrona's clapping, but shrugs it off and eases into the water. As he gets into the sufficiently deep part, where the current is stronger, he puts his muscles into his effort to swim out where the griffon is. GAME: Ga'Elian rolls athletics: (12)+7: 19

Yelrona makes no effort to keep up with the ranger in the stronger current, staying closer to the bank and enjoying the cool water. She drops below the surface for a time, curiously exploring the bottom of the river... you never know what the current might carry, after all!...before coming up for breath. "So," she says conversationally to the Sith-makar druid joining her, "tell me of your family! Are there others of your nest in Alexandros?"

Un'eth slips into the water easily, despite no long composed of it. "My Cihuaa and I dwell upon Ea, but Mictlan, north of this city, could be called our nest. We rest there often."

Ga'Elian easily maneuvers the river's current, catching up to the griffon, just as Erithamiel swallows a large trout. He strokes the griffon's wing and says, "Is that good, buddy? Yeah, that's right." <sildanyari>

Yelrona nods. "I've heard of Mictlan, but never been there. 'Cihuaa,'" she repeats carefully, "that's your life-partner, I assume? How long have you been together?"

"Yes," Uneth confirms, mildly surprised by Yelrona's familiarity (or talent at inference). She now pauses to consider. "I claimed Durrankar months before the first thaw."

Ga'Elian leaves the griffon to keep playing/dining in the deeper water as he returns to the shallower edges, where he says, "Well, he's doing just fine," smiling as he looks back at his companion. "What are you two talking about?" <sildanyari> Remarkably, the lenses over Ga'Elian's eyes never seem to get spotted, foggy, or even seemingly wet, like they must be magical or something. (Which they are.)

"Oh!" 'rona grins in delighted surprise. "I've met him as well. He seems nice," she says politely. "That staff of his, though..." she shakes her head, "I could not understand half of the words that came out of it." She pauses, then asks. "I apologize... I've been trying to learn what I can of the many races of Alexandros, but I know little of Sith-makar family traditions. What did claiming him entail? Please disregard the question if it's too personal," she adds hastily, "I only ask out of general interest." She greets Ga'Elian as he rejoins them. "Family," she replies, "and Sith-Makar customs. And nosy questions like that," she adds with a smirk.

Un'eth snorts to clear water from her nostrils... and possibly in amusement. "I wished to make him cihuaa and publicly claimed this. Any who wished to challenge this did so."

Ga'Elian listens, then chimes in, "In my tribe, when couples would form their life-bonds, the whole tribe would have a celebration in which a shaman or druid would bless their union. As children, we had our elders, our own actual parents being the foremost, of course, but as children among are kind are so rare in the centuries since the Veil fell upon us, we would tend to regard other children of a similar age as siblings. As we reached adulthood, most of us would leave for a moon-cycle as directed by the Huntress, to see the wild alone with Her visions. When we return to the tribe, we then begin the life course of an adult. Did you grow up in Llyranost? How was family life in your, uh... civilization?"

Yelrona nods at Ga'Elian's description. "No, nothing as fancy as Llyranost," she explains. "Actually, I've never been there, though I hope to see it some day. I grew up -- or was raised, in any case, as Mother would tell you I never did actually grow up -- in Sweet Water, a settlement in the Mythwood. Most lifebonds there were solemnized in Mother's Temple... er, I mean, Eluna's Temple, of course, although I'm not sure she was always aware of the distinction. Mother, that is, not Eluna. I saw a few joining ceremonies there, and participated in one when my cousin Aloranna joined with Eliassin. As for the children - well, I wouldn't cal us _siblings_, but as you say, there weren't many of us, and we would play together and sometimes study together. Most of my cohort remained in Sweet Water, but I... well, I left just a few years after my coming-of-age rite," she explains abruptly.

Ga'Elian says, "Interesting. So you speak of your mother, but what of your father?" <sildanyari>

"He was more of an adventurer," Rona explains. "Travelled a lot, did missions for... well, for Eluna," she temporizes, not sure how much she ought to say about her parents' work for the Acquisitioners. "He left for a mission when I was eighty or so, and never came back. I've been looking for him here in Alexandria, actually... and I met someone a couple of nights ago who remembers him!" she adds, excitedly. "So I know he was here twenty years ago. His name doesn't turn up in the medical records... I was hoping to get access to the Guild of Explorers records, but it turns out they burned down recently, so..." She gives a small helpless shrug. "I suppose I keep looking."

Ga'Elian smiles, "Long has his trail run cold, then. Harder to track your quarry... uh, father." <sildanyari>

Yelrona chuckles. "Yes. It does rather feel like hunting, sometimes," she admits. "Except in thirty-year-old medical ledgers and conversations with long-time residents of the city, rather than hoofprints and broken twigs." The way she says it makes it clear that she knows essentially nothing about actual tracking.

"What do you hope to find, should you track down your father?" Uneth inquires, somewhat rhetorically. "Is he what you truly seek?" She goes on to explain more of her own view of the general topic. "Among the Sith-makar, life-partners are rare. Many fall to predators, especially younglings. Many mates mean many eggs."

Ga'Elian glances over at Erithamiel (who seems to be done eating and is merely basking in the heat while sitting in the cool river), and says, "Well, nice as this has been, I think it's about time I go dry off and get some food myself, then off to the guildhall so I can mert someone about the Skyhold situation." He wades up onto the riverbank, wiping the water from his utterly hairless body as he walks, then whistles in beckoning to the griffon who perks up and moves toward the river's shallower edgewater. Then, amid more gawking by others on this city beach he stretches out on the grass next to his stuff to let the heat of the day finish drying him, completely unattentive to the varied looks of the cityfolk. <sildanyari>

"It isn't like that, among the sildanyari," Rona explains. "Young are rare with us... when I left, there were fewer than a dozen people in my settlement younger than I was. And we live a long time. And... well, I mean, I don't even know for sure that he's still alive, but I'm not ready to lose him quite yet." It's clear that she has strong feelings on the subject, though perhaps less clear what they really are. "Deaths are... considered something to avoid."

Un'eth bobs her snout at Ga'Elian as he exits the water, returning her attention and words to Yelrona. "The Sith-makar do not seek death, but the jungle holds in it many forms. Few ever perish from age, and many eggs never hatch or do not survive to be named."

Erithamiel makes his way out of the water, shaking vigorously once on land, and thus sprays EVERYTHING around him. Ga'Elian, puts his rises again and begins to put his clothes and equipment back on.

Yelrona regards the wild-elf with an entertained expression before returning to the more serious topic. "That makes sense," she agrees with a nod. "I'm told it's similar for humans without medical care... many of their young never reach maturity." It was completely alien to Rona, but she accepts that other cultures are not her own. "If you don't mind my asking, do you... I mean, have any of your eggs --" her question is interrupted by the unexpected shower. "Erithamiel!!! BAD griffin!"

Un'eth is already in the water. More water will not make her any more wet at this point. The splattering from the shaking was expected, but Yelrona's recation brings some snorts of amusement. Until the question registers. Uneth's posture and tone immediately somber. "I have lost no eggs," which could be a point of pride, if not, "as I have laid none."

As Ga'Elian dons his armor, straps on his buckler and weapons, and slings the quiver on over his shoulder again, he now looks quite the wilderness warrior. He walks over to pat the griffon and mount up. Erithamiel flaps his wings as if about to take flight, but then folds them against his leonine body again. Ga'Elian waves to those in the water then spurs his magnificent steed on up the bank and off in the direction of the market district.

Yelrona waves goodbye to the pair. "Speaking of pairbonds," she asides to Un'eth with a laugh, pointing to Ga'Elian and Erithamiel. More seriously, she adds "I'm sorry if that's a painful subject. Are you planning to?

The comment as Uneth watches the pair depart sparks a fresh snort of amusement. "They are bonded. How deeply and how long it endures is another matter. Erithamiel could find a more suitable partner." Back to the more serious and personal topic, Uneth waves claws dismissively. "It is a subject, that is all. Yes, I am. I have no reason to do otherwise, but plans are not always realized."

Yelrona laughs at her comment and nods. "True. And wouldn't have to spend so much time in the city." Returning to the original topic, she nods again. "That they are. Mother always talked about trying for a sibling, but, well..." she shrugged. "With Father gone, it never quite seemed appropriate. I used to joke that she wanted a replacement child, until it stopped being funny."

"Spoken like someone who is bonded to the forest." Says a silver scale coming down to the bank. He smiles over to the pair and thumps his tail. "Cihuaa. it is good to see you again. You as well Yelrona."

Un'eth looks up and over sharply at the greeting. "Cihuaa. Come, join us. The Tornmawr is refreshing, as is our talk of you." She looks to Yelrona. "If she truly wished to replace you, she was a poor mother."

Yelrona grins at Durrankar's arrival. "And you, as well! And..." she starts, glances at Durrankar's staff, and continues after a brief hesitation, "...isn't it a lovely day? And don't misunderstand me... I _like_ the city. And hiking here from the Mythwood was _exhausting_. But it's really not the best place for a griffon." To Uneth she replies "I exaggerate, I suppose. She loved me. But we never really understood each other. I was always much more my father's child."

"Yes, you can say hi to me as well, Yelrona. You might get more of a conversation can from this schmuck." The staff says as Durrankar gets tot he edge of the river......and puts the staff's head into the water. "Ah.....silence...." He then thumps his tail before looking to Uneth. "A place for a griffon is the sky....on the ground is a bit harder."

Un'eth bobs her muzzle at that. "Ssa." Whether 'that' is the talk of the griffon or the dunking of the staff is unstated. "That is why you seek him?" she asks of Yelrona before quizzing her cihuaa, "What brings you here?"

Yelrona laughs as the staff is dunked and nods agreement. "I suppose. I'm not ready to lose him just yet."

Durrankar says, "I was in the city....again, when I caught your scent, Cihuaa....so I followed." he then looks to Yelrona. "You seek your father, hmm? It issss quite possible he isn't around anymore, and embraced the Death Singing Dragon.""

"She will not know where he is until she finds him," Uneth states the obvious as she slips through the water towards Durrankar.

"I know," rona replies to Durrankar with a hint of asperity. "But I hope not. He's still young... barely five centuries. And, yes, what she said. Besides," she continues, evident pride in her expression, "a week ago I didn't even know whether he'd ever come to Alexandros, and now I know he was here and healthy... well, barring a broken nose... two decades ago. So I'm making progress."

Durrankar says, "Mmm...that is true." he says as he lifts his staff out of the water. 'AUGH! YOU KNOW I COULD WARP, RIGHT!?' "Well what do you know....you're already there." And durrankar dunks him back in the water. "Progress is good, but finding him would be better.""

"You should be patient," Uneth advises Yelrona. "You now know much more than you did, before. The trail is far more fresh. You will find him." She steps to Durrankar opposite the talking stick to run her claws on his scales behind ear frill and horn. "I found what I sought, even when I did not know what I sought."