Delta

[Galvain7]

It took two days for the Old Man to pass though the graveyard. Four days after entering Delta by the only road, he had yet to see another living soul. The graves were simple in their sorrow, a single mound of dirt topped by a small stick with a ribbon. There were no names, only ribbons. The grass in the entire area had been burned off by chemical means, and the air was foul with the stench of acid. There was no shade from the southern sun.

The Old Man was of vast and sharp intellect, as he had always been. It took him but a few hours to deduce that he graves were aligned precisely to from long concentric circles. The diameter of these death circles were so long that the Old Man could not see the end of them. The only thing that could be seen was more graves. It is not proper to think of graves in terms of pure numbers, for that would dehumanize the loss, but the intellect of the Old Man had nothing better to occupy itself than a means to hypothosize on the number of graves.

Using basic multiplication and a vast understanding of geometry, as well as a keen ability to see things from a birds eye or even three demensions, the Old Man deduced with a certain margin of error that the graves numbered well into the millions. Even sobering still, the graves were of a similar age, meaning that this was the work of perhaps a few years. Nothing- not even the mechanical effecy of the Knights Steamman or even the cosmic arcane power of the Yapping One Centuries ago could kill that many people. The enormity of it stilled even the vast mind of the Old Man. Surely he would have heard of this before....

At the last row of graves the land began to rise rapidly to form a hill. At the crest of the hill stood the squat stone walls of a city, with cannons rudely jutting from the towers. The limp banner of the Holy Theocratic Emprire hung listlessly from the parapet. A welcome sign was placed several feet from the gatehouse reading 'Welcome to the City of --." The last word had been blacked out, and a new name printed in careful letters. "Graves." The lone sentry in his stained white uniform and dirty tricorn hat was sound asleep, but the gate was open- so the Old Man simply went inside.

The streets of the City of Graves were deserted in the noon day sun except for a few manngy dogs. The tavern was boarded up and looked long abandoned. Hearing the whistle of a steam boat, the Old Man made his way to the riverside, and passed though another open gate and equally listless guard. The sight on the other side of the gate stopped him in his tracks once again. The graves continued on the other side of the river. The calculations of the Old Man's intellect stuggled to comprehend.

The steam boat had already pulled away from the stone dock, and was far up the river before the Old Man had even crossed the gate threshold. But another boat was being loaded by a man and a woman, and several children. This boat was propelled by poles, and made of wood and reeds, with a simple hut built in the center. These must threrefore be boat people. The Old Man's hailing was answered with blank stares, and a continued loading of the boat. But the woman began to talk with the man in hushed tones. They understood that the Old Man wanted passage, so he waited.

Soon enough the boat was loaded. Chickens, dogs, children and goods were stowwed and lashed down with ease of many years of pactice. The Old Man noted that the family never spoke during the loading, for they had no need. When all was in readiness, the 3 children board the boat and untied the moorings, holding them in readiness. The massive black dog sat forward, watching the man with alert eyes. Both husband and wife turned to meet the Old Man.

Each wore a wide conical bamboo hat with a chinstrap. The husband wore a long double brested duster with a high collar, with long leather boots. There was a machete over one shoulder, and a bandoleer with vials of alchemist acid over the other. The woman wore a similar duster, but shaped to accomidate her slight, womanly figure. Like the father she wore boots, but short, with a knife in the right boot, and a pistol in a holster under her left arm. She also carried many vials of alchemist acid, attached to the straps of a backpack. The Old Man noted with interest that the backpack was not, in fact, a backpack, but a board cradle, holding a baby.

The couple reguarded the Old Man blankly for a long instant. Then, husband steps forward, and speaks.

"Greetings. I know that you are an outlander. Do not give me your name, for it does not bode well to speak words of life in this place," he says, gesturing to the multitude of graves. "We will take you wherever the river takes us for awhile, but in exchange you will share with us the wisdom of your accumlated years. This is the payment we demand, and will take no other, for you look alike to a poor man. Will you boat with us?"

[DueceEsMachine]

Old Man Eyrie

*As he moves past row after row of graves numbering in the millions, he shakes his head slowly, sobred by the knowledge of such a thing having happened. And what was more - that it seemed every trace of it having even occured was gone, at least historically speaking. All that was left was a land of death. Salted earth and shallow graves that not even scavengers defiled.*

*Interesting. He pondered for a few moment what could have kept even the most desperate of creatures from laying claim to such a bounty of sustenance. A brutal veiw, but such was the cycle of life at times.*

*Perhaps there was some significance to the positioning? Logically, the most efficient way to dispose of so many bodies would have been mass incineration, since fire would reduce remains to nothing more than a handful of ashes, followed by disposal in large pits or even dispersal at sea. Still, millions of graves, say, four, as a rough estimate. Average size of a person, even reducing mass to a fraction, say one fourtieth, as would be about right, would produce mass amounts of remains. More than could be hauled to sea by the entire royal fleet of nearly five hundred vessels in less than say... two dozen trips per ship, each fully loaded. It really was a depressing thought, but more interesting: who had put so much work into digging such graves and why?*

*Looking at the positioning of the circles, and rough space between graves, he tried to estimate how many rows until he were to reach the center. It was quite a few, to say the least. It did make him think, however. Who or what would be placed at the center of the death, and why? Well, perhaps it was a question that would never be answered. It was one he would have to ponder for a bit. For the moment, more pressing matters presented themselves.*

*Moving through the open gate of the City of graves, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of the gaurd - fast asleep. He knew that the theocracy kept strict discipline of troops, but there was nothing here worth gaurding, so no one would care about the slack behavior. The waste was something that he was accustomed to. The soldier was not well fed, by any means, and nowhere near as well kept as the royal retainers that he had been so familiar with, but he still consumed as much as five other men. The theocracy had no use for weak soldiers, yet here he was, accomplishing as much as if he were gaurding any one of the various graves in the distance. Well, such is the corruption of power.*

*Moving through the streets of the... town? Perhaps grave really would be a better descriptor of the place. He kept a close eye on the semi-wild dogs that were the first real sign of animal life that he had seen in some time. While ill-kept and filthy, many of them still appeared strong and dangerous, though not entirely desperate. His keen eye looked over the beasts, and he couldn't help but click his tongue in disappointment. Many of them bore large wounds that were open or semi-healed, suggesting that they had been fighting other dogs. More than likely for the amusement of whoever still called this place home. Where they got the meat to toss to them... would best be left to speculation.*

*As he neared the docks, and saw the steamboat pulling away, the old man thought to utter some choice words, but held his tongue, smiling at the possibility presented by the raft and hard-working individuals working it. He was not entirely out of luck, so no sense in cursing anything yet.*

*Smiling, while waiting patiently, he looked over the vessel, and was suitably impressed by the length of ingenuity. The woods and plants keeping it together expertly worked. It really was quite the statement. By his understanding, every riverman was required to build his own boat upon acheiving manhood. A rite of passage of sorts. If you couldn't build a worthwhile vessel. Well, you didn't last long. Raft, home, livestock, wife and four children. The gentleman before him was doing quite well for himself. A man of a little means. A hard worker, which spoke for itself, and fairly intelligent.*

*As the man approaches, Eyrie clears his face and meets the mans gaze flatly, appraising him. Interesting eye placement. It gave the man something of an even more predatory look to his face, his steps smooth and fluid from years spent on unstable footing. He was a man that didn't carry his weapon as a show of force, but rather as a subtle promise of a swift end. Interesting. He remains quiet while the man speaks, nodding in agreement only when he finishes*

"Greetings indeed, River-son. Where the river takes you is exactly where I need to go. Your eyes do not decieve you, I am not a wealthy man by many means, but I am richer than many in this world in the way that you seek. If it is my wisdom you seek, then it would be wrong to refuse to share it. Should it be heard by ears willing to hear it, then you would help this old man sleep well this night. I would be honored to do so."

*Holding out a weathered, wrinkled hand, he gives the man a slight smile and waits for the agreement to be sealed.*


A bit long winded and presumptuous at points, but I figured since we're just starting, that would be alright. Also, just really trying to get into the old mans head. It is a bit difficult, but I'll get it with some time.

[Galvain7]

The Boatman and Boatwoman regard the outstretched hand of Eyrie Elvin with some curiosity, as if unsure of what to do. Finally, the husband makes a similar gesture, stopping short of actually grasping the hand of the old man. Eyrie Elvin, realizing that they do not know the custom, grasps the hand of the husband and shakes it.

The Boatman eyebrows raise just a fraction, and when the handshake is over he seems genuinely perplexed. Seeing the look on her husbands face, the Boatwoman barely suppresses a laugh behind her hand. From that awkward moment on, Eyrie Elvin can tell he has a friend among the boat people.

Within minutes of the unusual contract, the Boat Family and their sage guest embark from the City of Graves. The Boat Husband takes a long pole and positions himself at the stern, while the Boat Wife places herself forward. The children, dogs and chickens are spaces evenly in the middle, while you are offered a comfortable place on top of the house, "To warm your bones," as the Boatwoman puts it mildly. Unbidden, one of the children passes you a worn pillow and a small umbrella, but she seems unsure of what to make of the newcomer.

The land that had been scorched by some alchemical means to (perhaps) make room for the graves gradually gives way to a dense green jungle as you move downriver. Flora of all shades of green cram against one another in a frantic battle for sunlight, waged over years of time. Poisonous chocker vines strangle thorn trees with thick grey green vines impaled on the thorn trees' foot long spikes. Human sized Venus fly traps snap on a hair trigger, and the dense canopy is awash with the sounds of hunting animals. There are places where it appears the jungle attempted to grow over the space of the waterway, but blacked, sickly stumps attest to their defeat at the hands of humans.

Still the Boat Family is quiet, and for a long while Old Man Eyrie is convinced the entire trip will be made in silence. Then, again unbidden, the Boat Wife begins to hum a low, melodious tune. Instantly the Elven senses of The Old Man are aware of a subtle infusion of arcane energy- a sleeping charm. One by one the children drop off the sleep, youngest first. Soon the chickens are also, but curiously the massive black dogs remain awake, although significantly subdued. After a while the Boat Husband also begins to hum the same tune, but much lower. You feel the magic change ever so slightly, and the children fall into a deeper sleep. It dawns on the Old Man that these people do not think he is an Elf, and therefore expect him to also be asleep.

What do you do at this juncture? *important*

Inwardly the steel trap mind of Eyrie Elvin is reeling. No one, absolutely no one has been able to use this kind of magic since the time of the Yapping One. This family lives in close proximity to nature, but they certainly are not druids.

As quickly as the music came it fades, and the trip is resumed in silence once more. By now it is nearly dusk, as the close proximity to the tropics makes the days and nights of more or less equal length this time of year. The children come awake slowly, but within minutes they are filled with energy, like only children can be. For the first time, this Boat family more clearly resembles any other family the old man has known.

The children began to bagger their parents with a barrage of questions and complains, mostly revolving around food and a desire to camp or steach their legs. Mother and Father, to their credit, manage to not wear out of patience with their multitude of daughters. The baby awakes with a cry, and she is passed of to her oldest sister immediately. The setting sun seems to have energized everyone, including the animals. It was as though a canopy of anxiety was suddenly lifted off of the whole boat.

With perhaps two hours of daylight left, the boat is steered off the main waterway and into a much more shallow, but wide, channel. Further along this new channel there is a slightly elevated island in the center of the waterway. It is devoid of plants save for a few thorny bushes and grass.

The boat is anchored into the channel, and the husband commands the two oldest girls to "Collect the plant medicine," which they do with due diligence. The girls return with a massive clay urn, containing perhaps five gallons of fluid. With a mighty heave, the father hurls the urn into the middle of the island.

Instanly the urn shatters and a massive plume of blue fire sears across the island, stopped only by the edge of the water. The foul stench of acid follows the flames, and all the plant matter is utterly consumed.

The girls clap and cheer, and the Father allows himself a laugh at the magnitude of the flames. As soon as the foul stench is blown off the island, the girls storm ashore lugging a tent and a slew of tools. The parents follow more slowly, with the Husband carrying his petite wife ashore. Before you can object, the girls swarm over your bags and haul them onto the island.

The parents remove their long dusters and sit on them, and the Boat Woman begins to nurse the baby. Aside from the occasional comment or encouragement, neither parent so much as lifts a finger while the tent is raised and dinner prepared. The Boatman yawns and smiles at his wife, before turning to you with a sleepy grin.

"We are safe now, and may now use our names without fear. I am called Nygen van Thu, of Black Dog Clan. The woman is called Nyuk. She is the daughter if Giap, who slew the Man Eating Mango Tree of Zeckish. We go where the River takes us most seasons, but I have need to see my Father at Boat Concord. Where are you bound, and what is your name?"

[Galvain7]

I'm pleased with what you came up with regarding the soldiers and the boat people. Nice flavoring!

[DueceEsMachine]

Old Man Eyrie

*He chuckles a bit as he shakes the mans hand, realizing that it was his own shortcoming for not knowing the customary fashion of the boat-people for greetings or sealing verbal contracts. No worries.*
"It is the way some people agree to the terms of a deal, not to worry good sir."

*Climbing on board carefully, he takes slow, small steps to get himself used to the motion of the craft, which doesn't happen nearly so smoothly as he would like. Interestingly enough, he feels a twinge of frustration at this. In his younger years, he could have easily lept and bound across the boat without a second thought. Ah, such is life, and such days were gone.*

*His seat atop the house isn't amazingly comfortable and slightly bothersome for him to reach, but once set in place with a lovely pillow from the beautiful young girl, to which he smiles happily, it is surprisingly warm and steady. Such a spot would undoubtedly be one of the more desired places on the boat, for it's comfort, but also because of the implied honor of being located at a higher spot that everyone else. It made him quite appreciative of the hospitality of his hosts.*

*As they travelled down the river, he kept the parisol that was handed to him folded nicely across his lap - his fears of getting rained on were non-existant at this time, so no sense in holding it up. His attention was drawn to the stark contrast of the City of Graves to the sudden explosion of life that was the jungle. It was chaos, and it didn't take his mind long to come to a very simple conclusion: It was completely unnatural.*

*Watching in almost horror at the sights, he recognized base plant species, many of which he was intimately familiar, but these were twisted and vicious, like they had been warped by some force to do nothing by personify the destructive aspect of nature. It was disturbing, to say the least. He kept a mental catalog of the various interactions, and shook his head slowly. Nature truly was an amazing thing. Even with the extent of change which had been forced, the flora and fauna had managed to read something of a balance, though he had to wonder how long such a balance could be maintained without outside assistance.*

*As the boat floated downriver, expertly guided by the elders, the music began, and at first, his eyes went wide - he had experienced true magic rarely throughout his long, long life, and it was unmistakeable. He watched in rapt silence as the children and animals slowly drifted into slumber, and could feel the heavy, embracing allure of the song as it played against his mind, but did not take hold.*

*For his part, his mind was racing, running through the questions that he would so dearly love answered. Where had these people learned such mysteries? Where there others? Well, obviously there had to be others, but to what extent were they capable of harnessing this magic? If Magic had begun to return to the world, the implications would be extraordinary - most assuredly something he would have to devote himself to discovering. Physically, however, he sat very, very still. While the possibility of all of this was daunting, the knowledge that it was being used for a purpose was not lost on him. He did not know for certain, but could make a fairly certain assumption that the song was being used to lull the children and animals to slumber to keep the amount of noise produced by their passage to a minimum. This would suggest that there was something dangerous in the jungles around them that would be attracted by commotion or violent outburst. As interesting as it was. He felt it prudent to stay silent, and slowly raise his parisol, opening it above his head, just in case something should decide to fall from the boughs above.*

*Staying silent through the remainder of the trip, the Old man can't help but chuckle at the exhuberance of the children as they awaken, and watches with a heart lightened by their excitement. Ah, the vigor of youth, when the world was wide and exciting, every stone covered something priceless, and every step was an adventure. It was a thing of beauty.*

*Keeping to his perch, the Old Man kept out of the way as the preperations were made for setting down on the island. The show of alchemical force was one that surprised him. It must be quite common then, to land on such islands, if supplies for just such an occasion were kept readily on hand.*

*Climbing down, and releasing his meager belongings to the grasping hands of the girls, he makes his way to the shore, setting foot on dry land with a bit of a groan. Moving over to where the husband and wife sit, he stands for a moment, stretching as he is spoken to.*

"I must say, it is my honor to ride with such a skilled boatmen as yourselves. Nygen van Thu, and Nyuk, daughter of Giap. I am called Old Man, by most, but what few friends I have call me Eyrie, I would be flattered if you chose to do so. As for where I am headed, well, my business calls me downriver to the Alchemists in Delta, where I must fulfill certain contractual obligations."


"I apologize, but it seems my education has not been nearly as complete as I once thought it was. Zeckish, and the Boat Concord - I have never heard of either of these, though I would assume that Zeckish is a city, or settlement, and the Boat Concord is something of a seat of honor, yes?"

[Galvain7]

"Ah Traveler!" says Nygen, "You have a honey tounge and a fine speech, but I'm worried that your lack of learning in this land would be your undoing. But- this troubles me- why is someone so venerable working off a debt? Shouldn't you send your children? And furthermore, why deal with the alchemists? They are not a -sound- group."

Nyuk nods, but her eyes stay on the baby. "It's the lead. They are obsessed with it for some reason. But I suppose their doings are not all evil- they make the plant medicine... among other things that we have use for."

Nygen chucks at the inside joke, which escapes you at the moment. "Yes, many other things. So trading with them is not all bad. But to work for them- that is not a good thing. Although I suppose it depends on which alchemist you would work for. Did you ever get a name?"

"Zeckish was a settlement, run by a kindly old lord of some sort. He was not of the Boat People, but he took a Boatwoman to be a wife after she was made a widow. The Old Lord had a desire to grow the mangos, and traded them to us fairly. But the Jungle grew up around his feilds one day and infected the mango trees with thier wicked pollen during the night. So, in the morning when the workmen went out into the feild to collect the fruit, the trees swollowed them whole. My father slew the mango trees with fire and steel, for he loved the Old Lord. Now the site is haunted, and we do not go there."

"Boat Concord is where the Boat People gather to make laws. The site is a great feat of knowledge and the cleverness of our people, for the entire fortress can move thanks to the great machinomacy. It is a thing that must be seen to be believed, truely. Even Governor Slumprump and all his wicked men leave us alone there. My father holds a seat on the Concord-he can lead you to the Alchemists."

While Nygen and Nyuk chat along, the quick mind of the Old Man can deduce quite easily that the family he is now with might be something akin to Boat People royalty, since Nygen the son of a leader and Nyuk's father was a hero in the fight against the plants.

Shortly afterward, the daughters inform the adults that dinner is served, and you are brought bowls with a mix of chicken and rice, with a bare hint of pepper and soy sauce. Dried mangos and water complete the repast.

You note with some interest that there are no spoons of any kind, but that the Boat People eat using long tappered sticks held between the fingers. Everybody chuckles a bit at the old man's akwardness it start out with, but with the girls' help Eyrie manages to learn yet another new thing this evening.

After dinner is finished and the dishes put away, Nyuk and the daughters go to the other side of the island to bathe, and taking one dog with them. leaving you with Nygen once again.

Nygen yawns and romoves a rather new looking pipe from his long coat, saying as he does so, You are a man of much learning, so allow me to ask and answer a simple question for you. In return, you can ask and answer any other question you have a mind to. This is how you will pay for your passage- by sharing your outside learning. ...Why do the Boat People love the night? This is not a riddle, but a fundamental truth of our land. It would be more seemly for our people to love the daylight, as it is hard to work and pilot a boat at dark. But- the plants feed on the sunlight, and the dark makes them sluggish and sleepy. I do not know these waters well, and decided to navigate during the daylight to avoid sinking my boat. Although risking a plant attack is never my first choice, being boatless in the wilderness is far worse, as we would have no means of escape. Now I have shared my learning. ...Will you smoke?"

[Galvain7]

Talia

Over the years, you have tried to find some means to symbolize your own mother. To most people, this would seem disrespectful, cold, and maybe even insane. But most people do not share your mother.

Without some feeling behind it, 'mother' is just combination of many sounds. 'Mother' carries its own connotation of love, of children, worry, or whatever it is that mother is supposed to mean. You are not certain. So, early on you had to find some other means to describe your mother, to reconcile that feeling part of the brain with the logic part.

The perfect symbol came to you quite by accident when you over heard a pair of slaves who were cleaning Mother's office, wherein there was a massive grandfather clock: "The Mistress, she is like this clock no? All beautiful on the outside- soft and polished, with little gold leaves. But the inside is nothing but gears and wheels, and all the movement on her face dances to the rhythm of the tick-tock of the clock."

It was the perfect analog, something you wish that you had come up with yourself. The clock had beat out its rhythm when Mother disemboweled that same slave with a fire iron less than a year later, and in all likelihood beat out that same rhythm when mother bought the flattering boat woman clothes and went to the boats of your Father. How she managed to hide those cold gears from your father during the elaborate courting rituals of the Boat People must have been an astounding feat of deceit...

And something you have most certainly inherited from her. You dwell on the complexity of this: You hate her, but the means that will bring about her downfall came from her through you. It truly is a pleasant thought. If she only knew that the robbery of the Mail Packet from up north was by your hand and not the Elves in Exile she claimed to lead, despite all evidence to the contrary, she would likely kill you.

But she will not find out. Not yet anyway. This little tidbit you'll save for the moment it all comes crashing down. But first you like to savor the cracks on the clock face.

Which you do now from the fainting couch across from Mother's (Clock's) desk. She (Clock) is reading the report form the hand of the Postmaster General of how the undoubtedly Elven Black Bandit swooped down from the Jungle, bow and arrow in hand, to rob The Governor's own mail, and the mercenary army's payroll. It was outrageous. There will be reprisals, if the Elves do not reign in one of their own soon. And so on, and so forth.

And so beautiful. Not that you could tell by looking and Mother's (Clock's) face. The only sign that something was wrong came as Clock (Mother) beat out a little tattoo with her index finger- to the rhythm of the clock. She addresses you, coldly.

"It is clear enough that my own agents have failed me in catching this Black Bandit, whoever he is. Clearly, the Boat People are sheltering him. Talia- you will go to Boat Concord and speak with the Boat People there. Find out from them who this common thief is and have him handed over to me. Immediately. I've acquired a new indentured servant, an elf, but he is late. Find him too, if you can. Eyrie, he is called. Wait, one more thing- if this Eyrie is a simpleton kill him. I've run out of patience with fools. "

[DueceEsMachine]

Old Man Eyrie

*The old man smiles and nods in agreement with his host.*
"Indeed. A man of my age should be rocking comfortably in front of a fire, watching his numerous progeny skitter around happily. Unfortunately for myself, I have none. My debt is one that I have accrued alone, and so I must pay it off alone. As far as why I must deal with the Alchemists - well, it was a rather urgent situation, and it was either deal with them, or deal with my maker."

*Pulling his shirt to the side slightly, he exposes a bit of the jagged scar across his sunken chest, the wound is healed, but still a fresh, angry purple color.*

"I most certainly agree that they are not all evil. Were it not for the gentleman that I had dealings with, I would have never made it this far. I do not know that such a thing makes him a good man by any means, but most definitely a shrewd business man."

*He shrugs and settles in once more, thinking about the possibilities of the alchemists desire for lead. An interesting detail to have been brought up. There was always the chance that they could be using large quantities of it to fill their coffers, since it was extremely close to gold, but such a measure could be overcome fairly easily. Other options came to mind, but would be pure speculation. The humor of the boatmans joke is lost on him, but perhaps he would learn more about it at a later time.*

"Well, whether working for them or not is a good thing, it is something I must do at the moment, at the very least until my debt is paid off. A man has very few things in this world that he can truly call his own, and my good word is not something I am willing to lose for something so small as a debt to be paid. I was told to report the Great Elven Lady, if that means anything to you. I thought that it might be a good sign, as she may have a bit of respect for another elf of considerable age. There aren't many of us left these days."

*Listening intently to the stories that are told, the old man reels for a moment at the thought of an entire roaming fortress, though surely the picture in his mind is very, very different from the truth of the matter. Still, such a thing will be quite the sight to see. Most assuredly something for him to look forward to.*

"I must say that you honor me by bringing me to your fire, and offering to introdce me to your father at the Concord. Thank you. I assume this Governor Slumprump is something of a problem for your people? Who is it that he is in charge of, if I may inquire?"

*Listening intently while he attempts to master the... art? of eating with little wooden sticks, and while it takes him a bit longer, and he is nowhere near as adept as even the children, he is quite pleased with himself as he finishes his meal and sets the bowl and sticks aside. Different, but quite effective.*

*With a nod, he accepts the pipe from the younger man when it is offered and thinks on the wisdom that has been imparted.*

"Indeed - being stranded in the wilderness, especially with such irreplaceable cargo would be something of a nightmare, but I have no doubt that a resourceful man such as yourself would not succumb easily to even that. On top of that, it appears as though you have a very skilled and confident wife, who would surely never let you succumb without a fight. No, being boatless would surely be a death sentence to one such as I, but I think you would fare much better."

*Taking a few puffs, he passes the pipe back and relaxes a moment before speaking.*
"Of all the things I am most curious about, I must say your music interests me the most - I had come to the understanding that anything arcane such as that had long since passed into the annuls of history, and there were none left with the ability to focus it. So how is it that you and your wife so easily weave spells such as the one you used to lull your children into a slumber?"

OOC:

Alright, well, I'm not sure what questions he wants answered, but if you want to give me an idea, I'll roll some knowledge checks and just rattle things off of the top of my head in the next post.

[keilyn]

A smile of cold iron touched her lips so gently at her mother's comments. It is a convincing mirror of the chilling smile that her mother would affect when something pleased her. Talia looked far too much like her mother in her own opinion, but it had its uses. Survival being chief among them.

"Of course," she replied without emotion, alighting her feet upon the stone tiled floor. "Immediately, Mother."

Mother. A word most oft associated with kindness, nurturing. Tali associated it with cutthroat bitch.

Tali also had her mother's sharp turquoise eyes. This she hated most of all, for she could not so much as glance at a mirror without seeing her mother's piercing, stark gaze. Why she could not have had the warmth and depth of her father's brown eyes was just another insult heaped upon her by a laughing, cruel Fate.

She moved without commotion or ado to her room. No reason to speak to Mother more than she had to. Deep down, she still quailed at the idea that she might somehow give herself away before she was ready. She opened a golden, oak chest near the foot of her bed. She made up her pack, planning for something of a long trip. Any excuse to get away. Any reason to maintain the illusion that she was yet another of Mother's loyal pawns. She pulled the false bottom from the chest.

Padding, to smooth her curves into a more androgynous silhouette. Worn, black leater, each piece separately tailored to fit by several clueless human tailors. A mask, an alternate identity through which she could do what Talia Shyre was not free to do.

She very quickly and carefully packed these things, always alert and wary. She exited her chambers, down through the winding hall, out to the stables. Dug out under a heap of straw and soil, between the ground and the stable wall. The bow, which, unstrung, resembling a simple walking stick. The quiver, resembling a scroll case.

Eyrie. Indentured servant. Disposable.

Tal had long since resolved that Mother would dispose of anyone to further her own ends, to eliminate competition, to simply remove an annoyance. Suggesting that Talia do the dirty work was something of an affirmation of her own disposability in Mother's eyes.

"We shall see," she spoke softly to herself, climbing astride her mount. She glanced to the page who watched the comings and goings for Mother.

"I ride for the land of the Boat People. I do not expect to return soon."

[Galvain7]

Old Man Eyrie

For content sake this little convo happens after the girls and Boatwife are gone. Its easier for me that way.

The exposure of your wound is clearly shocks your host, he is rather alarmed that you are in fact, an elf, and mightily disturbed that you understand that they possess magic, however small. Your charming words and genuine manner seem to alievate the obvious tension however, and you sense that he is still your friend, although a more cautious one.

Nygen shacks his head slowly, saying, "Old Man, the steps of the dance you dance are delicate. I'd say that you are stepping across alligators to cross the river, but somehow that doesn't seem ... strong enough. The Great Elven Lady is not a woman to be tripled with. She is intelligent and ruthless, and she will kill you if you cross her. Boat People have no dealings with treacherous, cruel Elves." After this, he catches himself, realizing again that you are in fact an elf. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to say such harsh words about your people. But Elves created the man eating plants, and Elves have given us no reason to trust them at all. The tale of the 'Great Elven Lady' is especially foul."

"About two decades ago, Salomine, as she was called then, came to us at Boat Concord. She was the leader of all the Elves, the heir to the ancient Queendom, it was said, and a powerful alchemist. She lived among the boats, and learned our ways. She talked like us, dressed like us and said many kind words to all the leaders. She took a fancy to an man called Xi, who was also an alchemist. They wed, and she formally became one of us. Soon afterwards many Elves came to the Boat People wanting things. Food, transport, acid. They claimed to be the family of Salomine, and thus privy to all her rights. But they were too demanding, and did not care that they put us at hazard. Boat People died following their little earands, and they mistreated our females. And Salomine would not stop them- so she and all her 'Kin' were cast away from us, save her daughter. This we did not for Salomine's sake, but for Xi, as we loved him."

"If you have dealings with Salomine, God help you and preserve your soul. I respect your need to honor your promises, but make me one more: Tell know one of our magic. As to how we came to use it, I do not know. It simply came."

"Sigh. In a way I'm glad you are an elf, for you do not sleep. Do you mind taking the first watch then? Haha! See, the clever man can find treasure in anything."

[Galvain7]

Saddling Coldheart was one of the few tasks Talia reserved for herself, in part because none of the servants would go near the sexless lizard, but mostly because she enjoyed the company of the beast.

Like all Messiah Lizards, Coldheart was a massive thing, nearly nine feat long, not counting the muscular tail, and five and a half feat at the shoulder. The Messiah Lizards got their name from the invaluable ability to traverse water thanks to the massive of webbing on each of the four feet. But the skill of the Messiah Lizard did not end there, heavens no. When the situation arises the Messiah Lizard will fold up the webbing into a hallow spot within each leg and reveal razor sharp claws and nearly opposable thumbs. Climbing in nearly all directions is hard on the stomach to be sure, but the usefulness of it has no end to the fleeing thief.

Particularly appealing to the manner of Talia was the fact that Coldheart had no determinable sex, yet. The beast had yet to reach full maturation. As Talia entered the stone pen that was Coldheart's home, the beast was hanging upside down from the ceiling. It climbed gracefully down the domed walls of the pen, stopping just short of Talia's feet. Coldheart greeted her as it always did, by bowing and bobbing its head while faning its neck-frills while making a soft "RARARararawr" from the back of its throat. It desired pets, and possibly food.

Seeing the already fearsome Talia atop the horrifying Messiah Lizard scattered the already terrified stable staff. Smelling their fear, Coldheart reared on its hind legs and fanatically pawed the air with its massive paws. It spat digestive juices at the head groom, barely missing him by a fraction. With that the rider borne on her nightmare-born mount tore through the spice plantation, past the rows of toiling slaves and into the dark jungle beyond.

[keilyn]

Like others in similar positions, Talia had found that the best way to compensate for past weaknesses was to attain an ever higher standard of strength. The bonding she had achieved with her unique mount was only one more step upon her ladder, but a significant one. She rubbed her fingers gently against a soft area behind its jaw affectionately, eliciting a reptilian purr. Using only the subtle twitches of thigh muscles, shifts of weight, and brief touches, she proceeded to guide her bond creature along the path she'd been instructed to take.

She began to mentally prepare herself for the encounter with the man she was being sent to retrieve. Mother was not in the habit of acquiring any less than the most capable of servants. Talia was not certain she truly had the temerity to simply murder a man in cold blood. It was true, she had certainly taken lives before, she had felt the horror of it and then moved on through it. But she had never killed without provocation or at least a good reason of some kind. It was one major distinction that remained between herself and the frigid loins that had spawned her. She sincerely hoped that this Eyrie man was up to par; his own life and, her plans (to an extent), hinged upon it. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to pre-empt Mother, to make this man her own pawn rather than Salomine's...

Coldheart jerked to one side, suddenly intent on making a meal of some terrified, furry creature. Talia reproved him swiftly and certainly by digging her heel into his ribs and uttering a deep grunt from her throat. There would be time to rest and eat later, and though she and her mount shared a mutual respect, Tal was still the one in charge. It hissed with hunger-borne annoyance, flashing her a glint of its gold eye, but left it at that.

They would stop at least once for the night, maybe more depending on weather and whatever impediments might lie in their way. Talia hoped that this could be a short venture, for she had important errands to be done back home. She urged ther beast on faster. She was patient, but didn't like to waste too much time, especially for the woman whose downfall would one day be assured.

[DueceEsMachine]

Old Man Eyrie

"Stepping across alligators to cross the river? That is quite the strong analogy. For it to be inadequate is... disturbing."

"I wouldn't be too worried about offense - I prefer to avoid treacherous, cruel elves as well."

*He listens intently to the story as it is told, genuinely feeling for the plight of the boat people. Regardless, there was nothing he could do at the moment but render what aid he could to these. Perhaps with time he would be able to help the situation.*

"I swear by what life I have left that the secret of your magic is safe with me. I am sorry to hear of the hardships of your people, and I appreciate your understanding my situation. Had I known who I was entering into a bargain with, I likely would have given it more thought, but it is what it is. Until my debt is paid, there is little I can do about it."

*Reaching out, taking the pipe again, he puffs on it slowly, a bit of a smile on his face*
"I wouldn't mind taking the whole watch. An interesting thing happens when you get old - you don't seem to need as much sleep. You and yours can sleep well tonight, do not worry, my friend."

[DueceEsMachine]

OOC:

Hey, just thought I'd let you know that we're still here. No worries. We'll wait patiently. It's all about priorities. just hope you're doing alright with school and all.
Later.
oh yeah - and bump to prevent necromancy later.:smallbiggrin:

[Galvain7]

Talia:

For upwards of four days the rider and reptile traveled through the swampland, naturally avoiding any areas were intelligent trees would grow densest.

***

A gentle whistle prompted Coldheart to leap forward and attach its manyfold claws to the trunk of the nearest tree. With the agility of a paniced housecat and the laguid grace of the hummingbird the lizard scrambled up the trunk and across the branches. The weight of the beast should have been enough to snap very strong branches, but Coldheat moved at a pace that would baffle any other rider, thus preventing any undue strain on the trees. Swamp Lizards had no true sense of up or down, moving with equal ease both rightside up and upside down.

This reptilian rollercoaster rocketed without hinderance until Coldheart leapt from one overgrown mangrove to another, just under the horizon of the moon to prevent being siloetted. Landing on the opposite branch an easy 9 feet away, Coldheart then came an abrupt stop, lowering its head with a low pur like a dog on point.

Talia's keen eyes followed the beast's, but still taking longer to pick out the details in the swampy black.

Ahead, four red kobalds slithered across the swamp in a tight formation, Heading toward a dull orange light in the short distance. With no warning the small orange glow is engulfed by a much bigger blast, and for a breif instant the dense swampland is illumated.

[Galvain7]

Old Man:

Within short order the Boat family had cleaned the campsite and themselves, and set up thin tents made of a tight mesh to sleep in. Sleeping on the ground was a rare opportunity, and they took this chance to let the boat air out.

Within a few hours the clouds that covered the moon had blown over, and the entire area was bathed in a soft silvery glow. The Old Man began to chart the unusual star cover, different than his home above the equator, when he heard a sound behind him. Pivoting 180 degrees and standing with a grace that belied his age, the Old Man beheld two Black Kobalds.

For a long moment the adversarys beheld each other, taking each other in measure. Then, out of the corner of his Eye the old man beheld a brilliant ball of orange flighing inexplicably toward the Boat Home. Then, with a solid shockwave that felt like a punch in the stomach, the Boat Home Disappeared in an inferno.

Kobalds lack lips, and thus cannot smile, but as surely as the Old Man is living something like a grin passes on the leading Kobalds face. He says, in an almost conversational tone, "Yap."

[Galvain7]

Old Man:

Directly in front of you at 30 feet are two Black Kobalds, armed with short iron knives and spears. The boat family is rousing themselves 180 degrees behind you. To your left (West) the boat home is on fire and a group of Red Kobald are storming across the River.

Red Kobalds have made their move already (suprise round). Initiative will determine whether you or Black Kobalds will act first. Boat Family is flat footed and cannot act this round. "Yap" in this instance is not anyones name- used in this context it is the equvient of saying "Meh." You may make any rolls you see fit to try to gage your opponents.

Talia:

You are facing West. A small group of 4 (Red) Kobalds armed with spears are in front of you, about 45 feet away, easily within Coldheart's freak movement rate. They are unaware of you. The burning boat is partially visable, but will take two rounds to get to. You may make any rolls you see fit to try to gage your opponents.