Forgotten Puzzle Piece

Temple District, Midday

Grey, overcast. Chilly sideways wind. A number of factors that makes it a fairly unfavorable time to be outside, as the only thing bringing people about is warm food being served outside the Althean temples.

And, well-

"Malefic, pleassse, get down from up there...!" a massive silverscaled makari pleads, holding his arms up to the top of the grand central water fountain.

Atop it was a shiny, creepy looking halberd with a jagged frown on it. "No! We must praise His Radiance today!"

"For the last time- it isss too cloudy today!"

"Not if I pierce the sky!"

Skielstregar puts his face in his hands.

A spot of color descends through the gray from on high.

Alas, it is not The Sun piercing through the solid clouds with radiant shine. Rather, Verna steps into the plaza from the path to the mountain above. Her dress is predominantly pink; a light, bright pink that is the source of birght in the dim. Beneath the outer skirt, layers of more bland secondary layers protect against the growing chill of the shifting season. A basket is hooked under one elbow.

The activity at the fountain draws her attention from her presumed travel to market; while there are yet passersby and activity in the square, the fountain is far less popular a fixture now than in warmer months. Her eyes move from perched poleaxe to silver Sith-makar, and back, before she inquires, "Is something amiss?"

The polearm bends to bounce up in the air a little bit, but nary makes it even a foot high before landing back to its balancing spot. "Just a little closer, I can almost feel it!"

Thoughly embarrassed, Skielstregar is briskly muttering apologies to those nearby that gather. The half-mul gets a side apology in the fold, "Sssorry, thisss one's weapon needsss the sssun, yesss it is odd they kno-"

He does a double-triple-quadruple take. First a reactionary one, another from the colors, and yet /another/ from recognition. "D... Deathsinger Verna? Is-" a deep inhale, "-Sssa, that iss you, erm, you are very... pink?"

"Is that so? Regrettably, as noted, this day is not cooperative with that desire," Verna remarks upon the weapon, regarding its ... mobility a moment before returning her focus towards Skielstregar. "Indeed, I am. Both, in fact. I hold no duties at the temple this day, thus I attired myself accordingly. Conspicuousness this day could be an aid for visibility and safety, as well. How fare you, aside from the lack of bare sun?"

Malefic does another little bend and hop, a metallic sounding grunt echoing from their efforts. "Not if I soar! I know above the clouds- His Radiance holds domain!"

Skielstregar just heavily sighs. "It'ssss alwayssss like thisss on overcast daysss." A head tilt. "Conssspicuousss.... isssnessnesss?" he tries to echo, the Tradespeak weak there for sibilant tongues. "Sssafety? Thisss one worriesss if you of all people feel unsssafe."

He rubs his eyes. "Thisss one isss okay. There isss a number of developmentsss thisss one isss trying to undersstand, and is trying to help where they can from Am'shere woesss."

Verna gestures a gloved hand vaguely to the quick and/or sparse passersby moving through the square. "Visibility of myself for others," she clarifies. "Whilst I can see enough in the dim, others might not. I would prefer not to be mistakenly toppled nor trampled."

She pauses a moment to process the last comment. "There are troubles within the jungles? I was unaware... though I admit that I have not remained as keen on external events as I once was. I trust that any and all threats to The People are being addressed?"

Skielstregar becomes keenly aware of how much their height difference is, almost a whole Lucht's worth. "... thisss one would have never thought of sssuch a thing," he rumbles, taking a knee to cut the difference a little bit. And to save neck strain.

His tail flicks in annoyance. "Sssa. Troublesss. Being addressed, yesss. The People getting help from within and without to deal with Charn and their vile waysss," he growls. "They ssspread infection, disssease that makesss The People very hungry." A side glance to Verna. "Thisss one believesss you are ssstudied to enough to know what that can lead to."

Verna's lips purse at mention of Charneth vileness. The more words Skielstregar shares, the deeper her expression turns. This quickly forms a dark frown. "I am familiar with the actions of some Charneth, the general nature of the strained history..." a slight pause before she continues " I also hold passing knowledge of concepts deemed most sacriligious or heretical to Makari."

Skielstregar looks a tinge uncertain at Verna's shift to a frown. To be honest, a little part of him finds the half-mul unsettling, deep rooted misconceptions still holding barbs. But that quickly gets set aside as she ends up agreeing with him. "... yesss. Well, thisss one had fought firsst hand againssst some of them, them trying to make more of thisss sssacriligious on a large ssscale. Fought many Charneth magesss and granted mercy to kin."

He goes silent, folding his hands together on his knee. The increasing flicking of his tail belying an agitation. "... it helpsss not that this isss the same Charneth that did... things, to thisss one," he intones, sounding more like a pair of rocks grinding together.

Verna's frown flattens somewhat as she nods to his words. "I trust that all able were freed: returned to the life they deserved, or carried by The Harpist, the Death-Singing Dragon, to the peace they earned." This somber moment is broken by a blink at his last and she looks up (still) to him directly.

"You discovered a link to, or recalled something of, your past? That information may not be pleasant nor assuring, yet it is knowledge all the same. If a foe is identified, it can be more directly countered. Regretably, there are many Charneth who seek harm or domination upon others, yet they are not alone in those endeavors. One can best fight what one knows."

"While sssome foess are ssstill out there, most kin were freed, otherssss were given ritesss for the Death-Singing Dragon," Skiel bows his head somberly. A heavy sigh leaves him, a plume of frozen air wafting by. "Thisss one jussst wisshesss it need not be done at all."

He shakes his head, focusing on the small softskin next to him. Then looks beyond her. "... one of the magesss recognized thiss one as they grabbed them from going through a portal. May other magesss on the other side of the portal. It... tugged much at painful, forgotten threads. Sssaw symbolsss, banners. The name isss... hard to remember."

He closes his eyes. "Unpleasant. Double so when thisss one had to releassse them else thiss one would have been captured. Again."

A gloved hand reaches out to rest upon scales, if allowed. "Indeed. Such is not the fate wished upon others... and yet there can exist fates worse than The Harpist's Halls. I presume that I speak for many others when I say that I am please that you released and returned. I wish no captivity to the undeserving, to say nothing of worse. I witnessed more than my fill of chains and walls, physical or otherwise, with Charn."

Her frown returns, though it may not be wholly directed at Charn, and certainly not the silver Sith. "Is there any way that I might assist?"

Those scales are frigid cold. But even the warmth of the gesture can pierce through that. Skiel's shoulders slump. "Thisss one is ssorry you can empathize with sssuch atrocity," he rumbles. "And they appreciate your kind wordss."

He lifts his gaze, head quirking to the side. "In what manner? Identifying thisss foe?" he asks, reaching into a bag on his tail (still in fashion!) and rifling out a journal, a large quill, and a magnifying glass. He thumbs through the pages, using the glass to peer through with a massive dead silver eye at the blocky and choppy handwritten scripture. "... where isss it..."

Verna blinks and brows lift. She had presumed that Skielstregar or allies had already identified said foe. "Ah. You mentioned symbols, or a banner. My apologies that I presumed... Yes, I could aid you in identification. Unless this organization is recent, there would be some record of banners, coats of arms, and so forth. I have ample time for research, and access to resources enough to make the attempt."

After this offer, she watches him continue to skim through the journal for several moments. Then comes another offering. "If there is no written example, there, you witnessed these markings yourself, correct? Thus they are recorded in your own mind's eye, which you could share with me, if you wished."

Skiel's face frosts a bit at that. "... erm, thisss one apologizes. Written thingsss are harder for thisss one." He speaks true, as his written trade is... barely passable.

There is a blink. And he looks up, Verna's face blown up through his magnifying glasses (and the inverse, a far too large dead eye blinking at her). "... magicsss can do that? Huh. Erm. Sssure? Thisss one trusssts you. Um, thisss one hopesss you... have a strong stomach. There was a lot going on."

Verna nods once. "Yes, magic can do this. The spell allows viewing of a specific memory, shared by myself to another, by another to myself, and can even aid others in recalling their own memories more clearly. I realize that it is a rather personal event, but I can assure you that it is perfectly safe and controlled. I have made use of such magic on several occassions past."

She pauses to consider his concern. "If you are comfortable in focusing on the memory, I shall remain confortable viewing such. We need not do so here and now, if you would prefer other accomodations."

Skielstregar rubs one of his unnatural fangs. "Huh. Interesssting. Um, here isss fine, they do not mind. Magic isss fascinating. For what little they know how to do."

He clears his throat, and sits down. A hilarious matter, as he's still taller that Verna by a few inches. His eyes close. "Thisss one isss ready."

Malefic continues to rave in the background atop the fountain. "Hatchling! Throw me! Bah!"

It is relatively uncommon for Rune to find herself so consumed by something that she doesn't notice friends even at a distance. However, she seems to have her nose face-down into a bit of parchment, tapping her finger on it ponderously.

It isn't until she nearly stumbles into the fountain that she looks up, seeming surprised by the presence of Malefic, and then she looks around to try to find the the weapon's wielder. Thankfully, it isn't hard to find the Makari. "Hey Skiel." She calls out, oblivious to whatever conversation was happening between him and Verna. "So... what exactly is Malefic up to?" She looks between weapon and wielder curiously.

The differences in stature are not terribly concerning for Verna, though she does wish Skielstregar be comfortable. His seating is presumed to be for that reason. Conversely, she steps upon onto the low rim of the fountain, thus momentarily rising above the Makari. Slightly. Verna uses the height to more easily rest a hand upon his shoulder.

"Concentrate on what you witnessed," she encourages. "Recall the banners and sigils you observed, the sounds about you, the smells in the air..." The fact that scent can be such an important factor in Makari senses is not lost upon her. With her other hand, Verna makes a brief gesture and her word change to Mynsandraal as she utters a short incantation.

GAME: Verna casts Share Memory. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19

"Ah! Warrior Rune!" Malefic bips and bobs at the top of the fountain. "Get me higher! These clouds cannot hold me here! Only several more leagues and we can feel HIS RADIANCE!"

Skiel cracks open an eye, his dourness lifted briefly upon seeing Rune. "Ah. Warrior Rune, peace on your nessst. Worry not about Malefic, they get stir crazy when the sun isss hiding. They will cease soon and pout."

He blinks. "Actually, perfect timing, kin. Thisss one wanted to speak with out about sssomething, related to Am'shere troublesss, but Shaman Verna may provide thisss one with answersss for you and thisss one."

He turns back to Verna. Nods slowly. And remembers...

-=-=-=-=-

You're so famished.

That sensation hits right as the memory plays out. It's an empty pit in the stomach. A void. Crying out in baleful echoes that it needs to be filled and has no signs of going away. Pervasive. Everything around smells /so/. /Delicious/. Your mouth waters. Drooling nonstop.

You spit it out, mouth clacking and uncomfortable. A snout sticks between your vision. Vision that whirls and blurs as your head whips around. Tunneled yet focused. Several individuals seen: a half-sil with two swords, a runt redscale with a glaive, a brass armored artificer, and a tall redhaired woman with a glowing sword in plate. Everyone is covered in blood and singed.

Monsterous kin leap towards you, yet sheer /power/ courses through biting cold veins as they are batted aside as you charge forth ferally. Weaving through black tentacles that erupt as you come upon a massive portal, black ichor drenched hands slamming into a softskin in robes, gripping them tight. You scream in a howl, "DON'T RUN! LOOK AT YOU'VE DONE! EXPERIENCE YOUR SINS INCARNATE!"

"Leave me alone, Failure!" The mage answers Skielstregar with a loud hiss, glaring at him. "You have done enough damage to our supply-lines!" Speaking like some kind of man of mercantile more-so than as a mage.

Something clicks within you, recognition. You get so, so ANGRY at the thought. Yet a tiny, tiny bead of sanity pulls your attention to look through the half faded portal.

More mages. Charneth. Indoors. And upon the walls, banners. A name comes forth, but doesn't want to reveal itself. Cal...- you can't recall, pain flares across your being. But what you do know is if you get in there. You can FEAST. You slam the mage up against the side of the portal "No you don't! Yesss. Take me with you! Take me to where I can SHRED THIS WRETCHED SCHEME AND BURN IT WITH HOLY FIRE!"

The magic ceases.

-=-=-=-=-

With the raise of an eyebrow, Rune stands near the edge of the fountain and looks upward at Malefic. "Under normal circumstances, I'd be more than happy to help you out. However, the local law enforcement don't usually take kindly to people clambering up onto the fountains in Alexandria." She explains to the weapon. "Maybe we can find a tall tree, instead?"

Then, she looks over to Skiel, just at the same moment that his eye peeks open. She gives a small nod of understanding, "It's alright. I imagine the clouds will clear sooner or later. They always do."

Then, there is that moment of magic. Rune doesn't understand magic, but she can appreciate that something is passing between the two. So, she simply cocks her head, expecting that more will be forthcoming upon the completion of the spell.

This is not Verna's first sharing of memories. It is perhaps her first with one of The People, however. Further, knowing of a thing and actually experiencing a thing are not one and the same. The sensation of hunger is the first surprise, but Verna attempts to distract herself by focusing on the "external" details.

The magi in hand: his words, movements... rather than the urge to forcibly remove all of them (and more) from him.

The other magi: what magics they might conjure, and not how crunchy they might or might not be.

There! The stone around them! The banner-

The scene in shared mind's eye abruptly shifts. Gone are the portal. Absent are the magi. Nearly all is now absent, save for stone interior walls. And the banners.

A wide open hall, with the same banners hanging from above. Very far above, from the viewpoint. The same sigil above the mantle of a lit hearth. One that would be a dozen or more feet tall, if to scale were the viewer Skielstregar. Yet all is eerily silent compared to the chaos before. Empty.

The shared memory(ies) end harshly as Verna is startled out of the spell by it all. "No..." As if fearful or reviling, she takes a reflexive half-step back... which then causes her to tumble back into the fountain.

Malefic stops its bouncing, turning to look down at Rune from above. They're silent. Their jagged maw a thin line. "... why must you be right?" they chomp at the air. Fuming quietly, it falls off the top of the fountain, splashes into the waters, only to flop back up off the side and leaning near Skielstregar. "Clouds will part. But I am impatient. Fine. A tree. I will make the hatchling do so when he is done." The weapon trails off in murmurs, sounding like murmurs of mantras for none other than the Dragonfather.

Skiel shivers as the memory gets replayed for two, but then- foreign feelings? Small Skiel? What was going on-?

Splash! The makari forces himself to the now. "Shaman!" he gasps, scrabbling forth quickly on all fours before slinking up to the fountain to fish her out quickly. "Shaman, thisss one isss sorry, they know it'sss hard to feel the thingsss thisss one feels. They tried to warn you!"

"I'm only right some of the time." Rune replies, the corner of her lips quirking up slightly. "In this case, I would just rather not irritate the city guard if I can help it. They have enough to deal with." As the halberd splashes down into the water, she raises her hands to shield herself from some of the spray. "Looks like he's a bit busy at the moment."

Looking back towards Skielstregar and Verna, her attention returns to them just in time to see the half-sil fall into the fountain. There isn't time to react before she ends up splashed. A hand wipes wet hair from her forehead. "Verna, are you okay?" There's alarm in her voice.

"Do I even want to know what is going on right now?"

Verna, even sodden, requires little effort for Skielstregar to lift from the water. She regains her footing on the cobblestones, and then proceeds to straighten her skirts and/or wipe some of the water from them. "I am unharmed," she assures them both, her tone flat despite the ire-laden frown upon her countenance. "My apologies." To Rune, she adds, "I was aiding Skielstregar with identification of the Charneth coat of arms he encountered. We were successful."

She pauses, then, to take a few slow breaths before she looks up to the Makari. "The banners were those of House Calana'el-Xarr. Lady Varyssa, the matron, could be a most formidable opponent. She possesses vast resources and is meticulous in her planning. I strongly urge caution and preparedness before any direct assault of her forces."

Skiel fishes the half-sil out, carefully planting them on their feet and rifling around in the tail bag before pulling out a towel. "Here, ssshaman. Too cold for softskinsss right now," he offers.

He blinks at her. Then a reflexive snarl crosses his visage, a growl rumbling in his throat. "Calana'el-Xarr," he repeats lowly. Malefic inches closer to him as a bit of black ichor seeps from his arm, but wafts back as Skiel gets himself under control with a steadying breath. "You ssseem... very knowledge about thisss, Shaman. Wasss... that memory of you asss a hatchling?"

He looks over to Rune, and his tail gestures towards Verna. "There isss the nemesisss behind Am'ssshere disease. Thissss... house."

The pieces seem to start to come together for Rune, especially after Verna shares what that bit of magic was meant to do. "You mean the strange Charneth we encountered at Prion Prison. The one who stepped through that portal and escaped?" Her head tilts quizically, looking for confirmation.

"I wasn't close enough to get a view, but I know Skielstregar went nearly all the way through to... wherever they had fled to." Blue eyes flick once more between the two, noting the black ichor showing itself in a way that usually only accompanies the Makari's anger.

When Skielstregar asks if the memory had been of Verna's childhood, Rune blinks with some confusion. "Ahh, so that must have been that memory spell. Slixvah used it once on me." Rune, however, is not magic-savvy enough to have recognized it by sight and sound alone. "You know these Charneth bastards?" She asks of the other half-sil.

Verna nods. Twice, once to each. Her focus shifts to Rune to expound upon her answer to Rune's question. "Indeed. House Calana'el and House Xarr were two of the largest slave merchant houses in Charn. Some sixty years past, the two chose to ally. Lady Varyssa of House Calana'el, a shrewd mul'niessan follower of Tarra took Lord Danir Xarr, a human serving the Tyrant as her husband. Such pairings were considered blessed in Charn given the symbolic nature of their patrons."

Verna then looks between them. "Thus, this joined House far outmatched its competitors, and grew further. I am, unfortunately, well-versed in their history. I am proof that their marriage was consumated."

Skielstregar gives a slow nod. "Sssa, yesss, the very sssame, Warrior Rune," he intones. "Many peoplesss behind the portal. Looking asss if they could have dealt with thisss one if they came through."

HE tilts his head at Rune. "Thisss one... thinksss so? They know not of this Slixvah nor magics therein. The Shaman viewed a memory."

He turns to Verna and listens. Scaled brows furrow and his dislike of the information grows. "Vile," he comments about the union of the houses.

And then, he blinks. "Consumated? Eating denotessss union in Charn?"

Malefic leans over, quiet metallic growls whispering to the silverscale. "Oh. Oh? No. That- OH."

He blinks at Verna. "... thissss.... one apologizesss for... sssomething..." he mumbles, feeling awkward. A revered Shaman's family was the one's that had a direct hand in Skiel's corruption? It was difficult to be anything but awkward.

Like with any interesting story, it is all too easy for Verna to get Rune's rapt attention. Charneth history may be a far cry from the fantastical tales that she grew up on, they are just as interesting, it seems. Evil slave merchants, dark gods, and enough power to wrest control of other ruling houses. It sounds like the start to quite a story.

Verna's own connection to this story is met with a lift of one eyebrow, but no real judgement on the matter. One can't really choose who their family is, Rune knows that much. However, Skielstregar's misinterpretation is met with a barely contained laugh, one that has her covering her mouth and taking a deep breath. She seems about to explain when Malefic does the job for her. Thankfully.

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if the threads of fate are more intertwined than most of us give them credit for. Time and again, we find ourselves all bound up in the same story."

Verna is prepared to correct Skielstregar, though perhaps it is best that Malefic does so. Still, she steps towards him, a hand lifting and extending palm towards scales... though it pauses abruptly. "There is naught you owe me, Skielstregar, much less an apology. At best, it is I who owes you." Her hand slowly lowers.

"Indeed," she concurs with Rune as her eyes shift to the same, "yet some threads could be best left elsewhere, left snarled in their tangles to be ignored."

Skiel's visage frosts slightly in the chilly air. "Trade isss strange language," he weakly defends, Malefic's frown breaking to turn into a grin. The makari rubs his face free of flaking ice, a quizzical look being given towards the raised hand. "No, worry not of debtsss. Thisss one... thanksss you for giving them a missing puzzle piece. Not just for Am'shere, but for themselvesss."

He looks to Rune, a talon on his foot scraping at the cracks in the cobble. "Sssome should be left in tangles. But some tanglesss need to be cut apart." A sigh. "But- better it be entwined in thisss manner than alone. At leassst we have direction."

"Thisss one ssstill looks forward to ssseing the end of thisss fate." A promise is a promise.

"Alas, it's usually the most tangled ones that want to impose themselves the most onto our day to day lives." Rune sighs at that, likely not only thinking of what Verna had just revealed, but also so many other pieces of stories coming together at the moment. All of which carry a dire threat with them.

"If they're as powerful as Verna said, then taking them on is going to be one hell of a fight." A quick glance towards Malefic, likely knowing that the weapon in question may be ready to take on that task, even if it isn't a wise decision. "The one thing about those threads, is that a lot of them bind us to our friends and allies. Which means you don't have to face anything alone."

Despite the eerie chill that comes from the Makari, Rune still reaches out to touch his arm, briefly. "If you want to wipe their threat from the face of Ea, we stand with you."

The more positive twist offered by Rune causes Verna's flat expression to soften. Her lips curl upwards, somewhat, for the first time in the past minutes. "You speak wisely," she turns to Skielstregar, "and truthfully. As before, now ever moreso, any aid I might offer is yours. I would see her machinations upon others to an end."

Malefic, strangely, is looking pensive (as much as a hunk of metal can be), with their sole feature twisted in a contemplative, jagged curl. Perhaps whatever's going on in that metal mind is different ways to bite these House Heads?

Skielstregar, emboldened from his friend's assurance, he smiles and throws an arm around her shoulders. Cold! "Asss much asss thisss one wissshesss to purge thisss threat from Ea, thisss one undersstands that isss a tall order. We will free Am'shere of this blight from thisss houssse. That much we can do. Friendsss do much!"

He rumbles warmly, tail thudding against the ground at Verna's offering. "Thiss one appreicatesss your offer. Thisss one hearss will be a pilgrimage to Ketsalkuetspaltahtepetl-" a Draconic word that Skiel has zero issues belting out-

"Praise be such a HOLY SITE!" Malefic gleefully bounces.

They are ignored, "-a most holy of Dragonfather sites for final preparations. If you wissssh to come, thisss one thinksss we all will benefit from your insssight and presence."

Malefic looks back up at the fountain. Quietly bounces away.

A tired Watchman nearby prods Skiel with a sap. "Sir? Sir. Can you /please/ get them down before I have to write you a fine?"

"Guh- sssorry!"

-End Scene-