Grievor: The Ravenlords, part 4

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Log Info

  • Title: Grievor: The Ravenlords, part 4
  • Emitter: Whirlpool
  • Characters: Cryosanthia, Un'eth, Tenoc, Braelnoir, Merek, Halani, Thyrson
  • Place: Ravenlord's Fortress: Receiving Room; Bath House; Dining Hall
  • Time: Sunday, October 31, 2021, 9:34 PM
  • Summary: The Diplomatic Envoys are taken from the receiving room through a vast fortress that has been redesigned with Egalrin in mind. There are many openings in the floors to create bridges, which allow glimpses down into vast depths. This place is well protected. They are taken to a vast bathing room inside the structure and told to do their ablutions, wash, and put on robes. Halani went before they left, but the rest do what's necessary, wash off and pick clothes. All the robes are ancient, and none are very flattering. The group is also disarmed, and asked to leave their things behind. Thus, they are disarmed. They proceed to a dining hall, with a mural showing triumphs of the past, with the Egalrin in leadership positions. They are seated, and they wait... for something.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Un'eth       6'2"     275 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    An ebon-scaled female Sith-makar.
Tenoc        7'0"     280 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter.
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Halani       5'4"     120 Lb     Human/Xian        Female    Shortish, dusky skinned woman with almond shaped eyes.
Thyrson      7'6"     436 Lb     Giantborn         Male      Northern giantborn. Chiseled features, blonde stereotype.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  NPCs of Note  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Little Fang 'Lily'               Kobold            Female    A pinkscale youngling wearing a skeletonized broach.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  As the GM  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Whirlpool                        Otyugh                      A pile
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Previously

The diplomatic envoys make further appeals and are invited into a portal. They appear in a chamber where they are watched by ravens in many perches, and stand in front of a large, ornate statue of one. The statue lives, and speaks to them. Once again, introductions are made, with Cryosanthia promoting some of her group and leaving others to speak their own qualifications. They explain their reason for coming, knowledge of the threat from Charn and a desire to assist the Raven Lords against it. They are the first wall that will fall to the Greiver. Cryo reveals there is a Shard of Animus that has been weaponized, and an odd reply allows Braelnoir to realize, the shards may represent separate aspects of Animus' reaction to dying. This is unsettling the longer one thinks about it. Cryo explains that they are unsure what information would be best to share, as they don't understand the needs of the Raven Lords all that well.

"You bring this warning to us and seek to gain against the Usurpers. A wise move. Your warning will be heeded. I will bring it to the Lord before the war-season begins. What do you know of this Usurper who wields the dead-god as his weapon? We who are endless, we who serve with devotion undying, will strike down the Usurpers and reclaim what is rightfully ours."

A little question that is also bigger than it seems. What do they know about the Ursurpers? As little as they know about the Raven Lords. It's a thin squeeze to determine which is less. The diplomatic envoys still are not even dealing with one directly. Not hugely surprising, all things considered, but it is enough to worry about just who they are.

"We need to know more about you and your situation." Cryosanthia says, "Before we can tell you things that will be useful."

"You will be guests at our court dinner this evening, then. You will be prepared."

Oh boy...

Now

"Thank you." The whitescale dips her head, continuing to stare at the raven statue, and the other ravens that surround the room, "We are grateful for what you will share with us and the invitation, we accept."

She holds her position for a moment, willing her tailtip to stay still. How long is a suitable pause? Cryo also wouldn't mind a small team huddle.

"We await your directions."

"Oh hey.. they're feeding us? That's a good sign, yeah?" Halani asks, voice pitched low, only for the others.. though that's not necessarily enough to prevent any of the ravens from catching it. The white sith's gesture of polite respect has her quickly doing one of her own, though, one of her fists clasped in her other hand, bobbing her head quickly over them.

Great.

Brae cocks her head a little, then looks to Cryo as she sets a hand on her hip, less on the diplomatic etiquette side of the equation.

She looks back toward their hosts a moment, then inclines her head to some degree of respect for a couple moments before, under her breath:

"Assumin' what they eat won't kill us."

So they are to be prepared for a meal. Un'eth gives these Raven Lords the benefit of the doubt that this is in reference to their role as guests, rather than as the meal, itself. Snout and eyes dip in deference to their hosts, unvoiced presumptions or concerns remaining so. The Speaker is the diplomat here.

"We are perhaps closer kin than we are to softskins," Cryosanthia hisses a quiet reply, followed by, "Oh. Right. That doesn't help you all that much. Um. This one is hopeful, that is a good point."

Some discrete detect poison spells might be in order. Or some who will taste the food first. With great disappointment that she must do so, and that a particular thought crossed her mind, the whitescale avoids a glance towards the Seer.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/history: (19)+4: 23
GAME: Un'eth rolls knowledge/geography: (16)+11: 27
GAME: Halani rolls knowledge/history: (2)+6: 8
GAME: Braelnoir rolls int+2: (17)+int+2+1: 20, human improve lets me roll at +2"

Cryosanthia stands tall, adopting her best regal posture. She is representing the Silver Empress. She tugs on her corset discretely, adjusting how it pulls and supports her. This gives her additional presence, mass and taking up space always helps.

Usually. Hopefully.

This is what she's always wished for, to be engaged and involved in a diplomatic quandary. She was expecting her first effort to involve her being a junior on the team, not leading it. Her speaker training never got quite this advanced, and it had a lot of interruptions. A lot.

Stoically she waits, they'll never see her sweat but they might see her frost up. She concentrates so that won't be the case, and tries to think of something, anything relevant that she's forgotten.

The Korite remains true to her purposes. Support her sister, and be ready in case the whole 'peace' thing goes pear shaped.

She shifts slightly on the word 'softskins', but most of her bristling is internal. Instead, she tries to keep watch on the locals, ready to settle the hash of anyone who gets of a mind to do something stupid.

The statue then grows inanimate once more, having said what it set out to say, it would appear. It simply ... stops moving, yes.

The courtiers on either side of you raise their hands towards the sky as one, chanting something. It has some kind of cultural relevance, but is otherwise impenetrable to you at this moment without some context to place it in. Without it, it's not even a sentence that you can parse.

Dozens of black eyes now turn on you and one of the black-winged bird-men steps forward, sweeping towards you, a pair of halberd wielding guards following him.

"You shall accompany me."

Halani is somewhat less stoic than Cryosanthia, and somewhat less impressive looking than the entire rest of the delegation. What she has is sharps eyes, and a ready grin.. the latter of which she puts on, teeth and all, for the raven who steps forward. "Escort and an honour guard, yeah?" She doesn't go quite so far as to elbow Braelnoir, but the untaken gesture is nevertheless implied in her tone. "Ever forward, ever onward."

Un'eth straightens as well, her tail thumping the ground in acknowledgement of, and perhaps agreement with, the statement of their ...escort. She could and would support the whitescales confidence; any who can corral a youngling or three are warrior, defender, and diplomat enough to deal with any possible situation.

... and yet, there is rising concern in the flick of her tail and her own scents. Nothing acute enough to be spoken of, or she simply chooses not to in their present company, yet there all the same.

"We are ready." Cryosanthia says, maintaining her poise, ready to accompany them. She is attuned to her company, senses the shift in Un'eth's demeanor, does not understand but notes to herself to ask later. When there is privacy, when there is time.

Braelnoir takes the tone from Halani as a decent sign and turns a quick flash of her own feral grin, "That's the biz." she returns.

She straightens, though, as the 'honor guard' takes up their position, considering the weapons and their dead zones and the correlation with the sort of roominess the architecture affords.

In case stupid lands in their lap for a wiggle or two.

Merek, from taking time to assist with that airship to the guest invitation, he eventually will be with the party like everyone else. Up until this point, he hasn't said a lot, and he probably will not be saying anything at the moment. With that in mind, he follows along with Cryosanthia and nods to the escort, pulling the hood up on his attire while he walks along.

Off you go, then.

The guardsman leads you through the fort's hallways, talons clicking on the stone floor. While the building certainly doesn't look like it was made with egalrin in mind, you can absolutely see the signs of it having been remodeled to them. You pass beneath sections, for example, where ceilings have been removed, and others where the floor on either side of one narrow ledge has been removed to reveal it runs deeper beneath the ground. It is absolute a fortress and it's deeper and more defensible than it even seemed on the outside, especially given the proclivity of the ravens for, you know, flight.

You are guided towards a sparse guest quarter that appears to have been unused for some time. Dusty. Still, it looks like it has running water, given the drawn baths that await you, and several sets of elaborate robes hang from the walls. They had prepared.

"Please, perform your ablutions and then don the robes."

The islander monk does her best to keep track of the path they are all taken on.. but if she's being honest, that's never really been her strongest ability. Her hands drag along the walls at various points, then go up above her eyes during those times the passages open up to try and get a sense of the the depth of the fortress. Which, again and of course, she doesn't have much success with. Then they arrive at the rooms. "Well, I don't really need to 'go', you know?" Halani says as her gaze goes to the robes. And then the baths. "Dealt with that before we got here, yeah?" Her eyes definitely shine a bit at the thought of a good bath. "How.. uh... how much time should we take?"

"Of course, thank you." Cryosanthia says, stepping forward to start those ablutions, wondering if the Egalrin are staying to watch. Being observed isn't a concern of hers, it might be for others. She moves first to examine the robes, a couple questions on her mind.

Are they suitable for sith'makar, if so, how did they know? Are they tailored for her human friends, and the jotun mage? Impressive. She wants to examine them, with magic, but hesitates.

Instead she turns to face her companions, "We should wash off the dust of our journey and other activities to purify ourselves and become comfortable. This one also wishes to know how long."

Merek looks around and nods a bit to the escort, "Thank you." Then he's finding a place that he can settle in, taking the time to do what he needs to do, although he has magic that already makes the man more than presentable along with being clean. Then he's beginning to adjust his jewelry while he waits.

Braelnoir, similarly, is scanning the route, and the layout, trying to calculate avenues of reinforcement, defensive points and the like.

She considers the space, and there place in the hierarchy of courtesies a moment before looking to Cryosanthia.

Seeng her move to the robes, the Korite shrugs and steps over to the bath. She's been too long a mercenary in mixed ranks, and for a stretch too long without opposable thumbs(don't ask) to be squeamish about having to change in front of company.

The disarming takes doing.

Korite.

Duh.

In time, though, she has down to her tan and silver, scrubbed and washed and slipping back into her robe before the arduous braiding starts and she wonders, "Are we expected to remain unarmed for this?" <Draconic>

Cryosanthia concentrates, and her clothes vanish with the exception of her corset, her cape, her boots, gloves and the sleeves of many garments. She's also still wearing her handy haversack, which has less of a saddle for Little Fang. Her patterns and markings are on full display.

Her pinkscale clambers to the ground, staring at the black birds as her Ssassa takes her over to one of the baths and gets her in it. Lily has a leather dress, which can stand getting wet but Cryo makes an effort to spare it.

She follows, taking off her remaining magic clothes and slipping them into the haversack, although she keeps her gloves. They're useful for warming up the water, and can magically clean better than anything.

The combination of cold-bodied snow-sith, and hot water produces a lot of steam. Obscuring mists if you will, as she slips in. "This one is not sure. This one expects not." <draconic>

Just in case, the whitescale tells any attendants who have stuck around, "Some of my entourage my stay back to mind my youngling. We can provide facilities for them." Exactly how, might be explained later.

Eventually, Cryo is washed, dry and examining the robes. She could easily duplicate it with her magic sleeves. She makes a quick casting, which is very obvious as she sparkles like the night sky and her eyes begin to glow.

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "detect magic, look the robes over once I've washed up"
GAME: Cryosanthia casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 12 DC: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perception: (6)+8: 14

Merek stands up and walks to one of the washing areas, taking the time to begin to clean himself a little after taking off different things except for his pants with the belts about it, his frame scarred. It looks like he is doing things related to his faith while he waits, then he stands up to wash off the hands, placing the gloves upon them. Then the scarf, while he looks to everyone, "Well. I'm not sure what to make of things. This seems like it will take a lot of diplomacy. They at least are taking things serious. The thing is, will they take everything serious we have to say." He has two tattoos along his arms with what looks like a tri-ring upon the back of a hand.

"You are expected to remain unarmed at all times going forward," replies the Raven. He doesn't appear to care. HE's just here to guard and observe, it would appear.

Thyrson seems pretty unconcerned with disrobing. He's an old giant -- he's got no shame. Out of his robe, leaning his staff to one side, he gets clean. Magic or no, he's scarred, particularly on the arms -- like the fire he channels got away from him at some point.

There's unarmed and there's unarmed, and at least a few have seen how helpless Cryosanthia is when she's totally naked. She's also unlikely to get, or accept, a peace bond for her mouth, and arguably that has done more damage than her dagger ever did. That's also why she asked Halani along.

The three interlocked circles on Merek's hand get a short look, she hadn't expected he would get one, having left the mission early so to speak. She has her own, which is somewhat hard to spot.

"This one was mistaken," Cryo tells Braelnoir. Having soaked sufficiently, she steps out of her bath, allowing the water to stream off. It trickles randomly, and while she is covered in patterns and lines, they don't correlate with water channels. She arches a little, then dries down her sinuous form.

The jotun's scars, Halani's get a few glances from her.

"Happens." Braelnoir remarks, covering the pebbled silver of her shoulder mark, as well as the gleaming crimson scales spiraling her opposing arm in an obscure sigil denoting War in it's purest aspect.

She has her own answer to 'unarmed', but she does ask her sister, as she's re-affixing her allowed affectations in place, "Mind holdin' onta some o'my stuff, sis?"

"This one will, of course." Cryo says, the edges of her mouth curling, "hopefully Lily did not pack too many toys."

She steps over to a robe, examining it, feeling the fabric.

Thyrson picks up his robe, examining it -- primarily for fit. He shrugs a little, straightening up, revealing golden skin, golden hide really, stretched across his ribs. He looks towards the guard. "May I lean upon my walking staff?"

The robes are unique and elaborate, no two of them are the same. They look comfortable, and designed for humanoid guests of the Raven Lords. What they also appear is old an unused.

Very old.

Cryosanthia examines each robe, carefully considering each one. It's an extravagant gesture, she's going to choose the white one. If there isn't a white one, a pale blue with do. Almost anything else she'll overlook because it doesn't go with her scales. Her sartorial comfort zone is very narrow.

Lily examines the robes also, mostly by running underneath them as they hang on their pegs, her head pushing through the long backs. She has found something, "Trysss thisss one."

Braelnoir doesn't find any one color keeps her from bouncing better than any others, and had chosen hers mostly by the ancient art of 'first into arm's reach wins!'.

The Korite spends some time stuffing her gear into Cryo's pack, sparing a moment to gently scratch Lily's head, "What th'ell do Elagrin eat, anyway?"

"Bugsss!" Lily says, rubbing her head against her aunt's hand, "And mice and ssstickss and fisssh and rockss and rootss." Could be true, could be traditional kobold diet. "Ann fruitss and nutsss."

Thyrson finds a robe and slips it on, "I will bring my staff." He waits, watching the group.

Merek will lift up one of the robes which he finds, placing that along his frame, then he nods a bit to people, "Well, that will probably be best. We will see about what we can explain."

"Keep in mind," Halani suggests, wiggling into one of the robes she picked randomly from those available and then tapping two fingers to her temple, "If they want us unarmed... they probably have something to block more special skills, yeah?" Then she shakes her arms out.. the robes she picked aren't the best fit. They're a bit long in the arms and the hem drags on the ground. But you work with what you have.

The robes seem to mostly fit well enough.. There's one sized relative for everyone, really, but they're definitely old feeling.

But comfortable!

As people get into the robes, the raven-feathered Egalrin continues to watch, patiently.

... every step you take...

'They can make you forget how to punch?' is the question on Cryo's tongue, but she keeps the forked thing restrained long enough to ask, "They can make me forget how to dance?"

No sense giving away Halani's specialty. The robes feel wonderful, and with her bodyguard's comment the white sith'makar is suspicious it will stop her doing 'things'. Magic, manifesting wings, claws, all her useful stuff. She starts to doubt the wisdom of trying to help a xenophobic, paranoid culture. However, as nature would have it, she doesn't have a lot of wisdom and someone has to do the job.

Everything that she can't wear or carry goes into her handy haversack, which goes back on her shoulders so Little Fang can ride. Wearing it as a giant fanny pack is her second option, though she's reluctant to as it would look even worse than on her shoulders, and under the robes would give her far too much bustle. Although if there is a nicely tailored one, with a bustle, she would consider that option.

Cryosanthia's remaining concern is her bag of things. If it stays behind, she wants it to go into a Mage's Magic Mansion. Tenoc, and others who are staying behind can watch Lily. The whitescale isn't sure if her daughter is invited to the feats.

She is assured by the guard that they may leave things behind, and they will not be molested. The Egalrin would prefer the sundry gear, and the weapons to stay back. They insist even, emphasizing that the group are guests. Their equipment is not in any danger.

Even if it is shiny. Very shiny. Especially Junior.

It is a trust issue that runs right up against the whitescale's personal foibles. She has lived a significant portion of her life, knowing exactly where everything she owns is at all times. Even after escaping the Fey Queen's tower, it was a challenge for her to part with her haversack, even in Mictlan. She always wanted it close at hand.

A comfort blanket in the shape of a backpack.

It should be okay though, Lysos isn't here. So what could possibly go wrong?

Brae seems dubious about this part, but doesn't make note of anything aloud. She gets sort of introspective, instead, though she flicks a quick look to Halani on her query.

The robes seem designed to ensure maximal unflatteringness. That's not to say that they're not pretty! They are. Despite the muted colors and age, they do have some lovely embroidery and more. They're just ... old, and yet still comfortable. Whatever these patterns and colors might mean, however, is lost on you. It's a culture for which you again have no context. If they symbolize anything, or have a particular cultural resonance, you don't know enough yet to be able to deduce it. There's a polite knock upon the door.

The raven turns towards the door and speaks, switching to an ancient dialect of the Egalrin language, perhaps. There's some similarities, but it's extremly different too.

GAME: Merek rolls linguistics: (8)+22: 30

Merek slips on a robe, taking the time to adjust and tug it until it fits his frame, using his AnyGarment sleeves as a shirt while he takes a look at his final appearance. "I like it," he admits.

"Alright, let's see what we can do."

The Seer follows along with the party, thinking a bit. As he passes the door, he says, "That is an old dialect, it's probably not been in use for a while, and looking at the place, it's like these people have kept away from the world for a long time, keep that in mind probably."

Halani does her best to explain what she means with some hand gestures.. them message does not likely get accurately communicated. And then there's someone new at the door. "I guess that's us!" she declares, glancing at the others to see whether they confirm her assessment.

Cryosanthia has tried a few robes on, searching for the least ugly one, a dream of an impossible dream. Failing in this dream quest she settles for a more practical goal. It must have the most colours possible, it must cover her tail and her rump with sufficiently length back there she isn't flashing anyone, it must stay closed in the front, and not strain or crease across her belly. As proud as she is of her state, little windows between the fastenings where her scales show through is not a good look. Finally, she wants sleeves that won't completely swallow her hands, which also don't awkwardly end halfway along her forearms. Better that they reach elbows, or wrists.

She mostly succeeds. The sleeves are going to be a pain. It's a white robe in the sense that white light is all colours, and so is this fabric. "Yes, lets go."

Braelnoir watches the escorts sort themselves out, then glances at Halani as she starts making hand signs, then nods to Merek's input, then, "A'ight. Guess we're going to dinner."

The guide, and the other Egalrin, begin to guide you down a hallway, again, much like before. The cavernous interior has been retooled and rebuilt to suit the Egalrin. It all looks very old, but you can see the signs of on-going work. Like it never stopped, really.

Finally, you arrive. This dining hall has been arranged carefully with what appears to be very uncomfortable looking, for humans, furniture. A sith might find it a bit easier, what, with the way the backs of the blackwood chairs are built to accept wings so a tail is not much of a stretch.

Ancient tapestries hang from the walls all around you. Colorful representations of war and battle on each of them. Very violent. Hearts are being torn out. Most of the enemies appear very human, but it must be noted that not all the warriors on the side of the Egalrin are Egalrin, either. If anything, it casts the Egalrin as leaders, champions, and rulers in most of these. One particular great, black-winged Egalrin is surrounded by a nimbus of light as he stands upon a mound of the conquered, his spear bloodied and ready. Definitely an important figure, given the way a great many others are kneeling to them. Above you, the setting sun casts an orange glow over a stained glass window that makes the table erupt in a dazzling array of color on the great, circular table that sits in the center.

You are guided to take seats. There is no one else present at this time but you and the guards who accompanied you. A few moments later, an Egalrin with a lute arrives. he sets down in the corner and begins to pluck it with his talons, creating an interesting and resonant harmony. A few moments after that, more of the black-winged egalrin begin to step inside in pairs, moving to stand behind their seats, much like you have been instructed to do.

They appear to be waiting.

Waiting for ... something.

Ghoulish cp line.png

OOC

It's a Beach/Bathhouse Scene!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so I am not sure..."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "if this is the anime bath house scene or not..."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "because I am cool with going there"
<OOC> Halani says, "depends on which anime :("
<OOC> Braelnoir is not bashful
<OOC> Halani apologizes, have to step away for a short time. Please don't wait for me.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, I'll make a washing down pose"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "o.O"
<OOC> Whirlpool laughs.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Just don't be crass. That's all I ask. :)"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "No need to belabor things, it's just a stop on the way! :)"

Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpVWSYce79c