After an intense high-speed magic ingredient chase, Sassafrass has just received the last component for her potion from her mongrelly sidekick companion, and the two of them buckle down to completing their preparations for the what is certainly bound to be an eventful night ahead...
* * * * *
[St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, A Cramped, Single-Room Flat]
This unassuming room is rather dingy and small. It has a single small square window across from the entrance door, and a few grubby bronze wall sconces for candles. The floor is made of greying planks, protesting with screeches and groans when stepped on, somewhat misshapen by age and damp. White limewashing peels in flakes from the timber-framed cob walls. When the wind blows too hard, it feels as if the entire structure creaks.
A bilge-sodden oakwood crate is shoved into a corner of the room. A glass bottle sits on the windowsill, with a little metal pellet now visible inside it through the cloudy yellowish liquid. A scuffed wooden box sits on the sill. A sheaf of paper is near an elegant ash bed. A sheaf of parchment is near an elegant ash bed. A squat tallow candle occupies a sconce. A sturdy stone mortar sits close to one wall, filled with some rather disgusting smeary goo. An elegant ash bed holds pride of place, its head against the northern wall. Here is a round leather canteen.
A rangy mongrel shoulders the window frame, watching the street below through the warped glass, holding a small chip of painted plaster in his right hand.
Cardinal Exits: south: rectangular pinewood door (closed)
A small chip of painted plaster
No larger than a thumbnail, this piece of plaster looks to have come loose from some kind of wall painting. It is a creamy off-white, streaked with graceful plumy lines that make it look like a single downy feather.
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks up to a rangy mongrel, blinks slowly, then frowns back down to a small chip of painted plaster. "I... see." [in Sirdabi] She doesn't look at or hold the fragment with quite the same reverence as he did, but there is at least an extra bit of respectful gentleness in the cup of her palm. "Well." [in Sirdabi] She pauses again. "It may not be a real feather, but if it was given by some divine means, then..." [in Sirdabi] She lets out a soft whistle from between lips. "It's certainly got to have some power in it." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel drops his gaze back onto the plaster piece as you does, and inclines his head in a simple nod of wordless agreement. "How much poison will be produced, do you think?" [in Sirdabi] he asks, moving on to matters more practical. "Enough for several applications?" [in Sirdabi] (Stand - within the general area -)
A rangy mongrel wipes his hands off on his sirwaal as he rises, as though grown suddenly aware of how grubby they are. It doesn't do much -- everything he's wearing is dirty too.
You put down several scraggly strands of creamy-gold bark on the floor.
You have emoted: Sassafrass nods to a rangy mongrel in confirmation. "There should be more than enough, for our various purposes. It will lose its potency the longer it sits, but--" [in Sirdabi] Her mouth curves up in a small smile of grim resolution. "We won't have to worry about that." [in Sirdabi] She lowers her knees to resettle herself into a crosslegged position, brushing strands of bark out of her lap as she does so. Picking up a bowl that looks suspiciously like the stew bowl from the night before, she glances consideringly between the goop now inside it, and the similar goop still in a sturdy stone mortar.
It is evening, the hour of evensong.
A rangy mongrel trades that grim look for one equally grave, and nods his understanding. "I set Egg and the Smith to obtaining the sphere for me," [in Sirdabi] he updates you, following her eyes to the mortar, and then stepping nearer to it. "If they cannot get it, then..." [in Sirdabi]
The dog begins producing various sharp implements from here-and-there about his person. He shows each one to you before leaning down to set it beside the mortar. Each is sharp. Pointy.
A rangy mongrel gets out a steel ring-handled throwing knife from an ugly makeshift pocket in his possession.
A rangy mongrel gets out a small utilitarian knife from moth-eaten honey-patinaed camel leather khuffs in his possession.
A rangy mongrel gets out a wide-bladed dagger from a small sheath of tooled leather with a single amethyst in his possession.
A rangy mongrel drops a steel ring-handled throwing knife on the floor.
A rangy mongrel drops a small utilitarian knife on the floor.
A rangy mongrel drops a wide-bladed dagger on the floor.
You have emoted: A trace of relief crosses Sassafrass's face at this news about the sphere, and she murmurs quietly, "Good." [in Sirdabi] She watches a rangy mongrel produce his small stabby armory, nodding matter-of-factly as if it were quite ordinary to carry large numbers of knives upon one's person. "We can definitely coat all of those," [in Sirdabi] she affirms. "Oh." [in Sirdabi] She purses her lips and peers up at a rangy mongrel. "Do you have a brush? A little brush to apply it with?" [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass passes a rather doubtful frown over a rangy mongrel, then around the room. The unlikeness of such a thing being present seems to strike her.
You have emoted: "Ah, right," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass says, realism descending in the wake of this inspection. Switching gears, she asks, "Can you get one?" [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel first blinks at you and then only offers her the wryest possible look while she reaches her own sensible conclusion. At her prompting, he immediately turns and sweeps off toward the door. "Egg will have one. I saw him in the street just now." [in Sirdabi] He pulls it open but doesn't yet step through, instead pausing to ask you with a lift of brows, "You need anything else?" [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel approaches the closed rectangular pinewood door.
A rangy mongrel opens the rectangular pinewood door.
You have emoted: Sassafrass narrows her eyes, appearing to run quickly through some mental checklist. "I don't think so," [in Sirdabi] is the conclusion she reaches. "If you can get a brush, I'll work on getting this.. feather... ground up and mixed in with the rest." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel hangs around just long enough for that answer, then nods and slips out onto the landing without another word. A dog on a mission.
A rangy mongrel walks away through the rectangular pinewood door.
The rectangular pinewood door closes.
You put down a deep wood-carved stew bowl on the floor.
You pick up a sturdy stone mortar from the floor.
You get out a heavy-duty pestle from a pale leather satchel in your possession.
You have emoted: Sassafrass places a small chip of painted plaster carefully into a sturdy stone mortar, but even after she's got the pestle in hand she simply holds it there for a moment, suspended just over the feathery-looking fragment. She seems to be holding her breath too as she finally lowers the pestle and begins to grind plaster down to dust.
You have emoted: As Sassafrass begins carefully grinding away, a fragrance of myrrh suddenly fills the air, as if it had been stored away within this tiny little chip of plaster. She blinks, sniffs the air, the gazes down at her mixture with widened eyes. A long moment passes while she stares down into the bowl... but then, more slowly and deliberately than before, she continues her task until it's done, and adds it to the mixture in the bowl.
You put down a sturdy stone mortar on the floor.
You put down a heavy-duty pestle on the floor.
OOC: Your pose will read 'a fox-faced woman with apprehensive green eyes sits in one corner of the room, gently swirling a peculiar looking mixture of viscous liquid inside a deep wood-carved stew bowl.'.
The rectangular pinewood door opens.
An average-height person wearing a black wool cloak with a spacious hood walks through the rectangular pinewood door, swift and purposeful. He is followed by a small group.
A rangy mongrel lowers the hood of a black wool cloak with a spacious hood.
Honey, he's hoooome. A rangy mongrel returns from his mission, but this time, not alone. A trio of tagalongs follows him into the room, and he shakes the hood from his head while he waits by the door to budge it shut behind the last of them.
A rangy mongrel approaches the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door.
A rangy mongrel closes the rectangular pinewood door.
Ziyad cautiously looks around the room after he steps through the door, his gaze coming to a stop on you. He offers a careful nod of acknowledgement.
Yasin's eyes settle on you, and he gives a nod of his head in greeting. His gaze also sweeps to take in the room, as it has probably been a very long time since Yasin has set foot in here. He looks curiously at an elegant ash bed, as though appraising the thing, a gaze of 'I wonder how much that was'. But he shakes his head and looks away from the bed to focus on the matters at hand.
Yasin opens the riveted strap of a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
You have emoted: Sassafrass lifts her eyes from their scrutiny of the bowl in her hand, her gazing fixing on a rangy mongrel and mouth opening to ask, "Did you--" [in Sirdabi] But then a positive rabble comes crowding in after him, and she gives a sharp blink and a start. Thankfully it's not so pronounced that she spills whatever weird concoction is in a deep wood-carved stew bowl.
Yasin flips open the strap of his apron, and then looks around to the gathering. "...Shall I take out the... item?" [in Sirdabi with a calm and quiet bass-baritone]
Ighlaf steps just inside the door then out of the way, giving a slight nod of greeting.
The bed appears to serve more as decoration than functional furniture -- it's utterly untouched, bearing a layer of dust. For his part, a rangy mongrel peels away from the door to arrive immediately beside you, to whom he presents a small, long-handled paintbrush with an unnecessary little twirl over his digits.
A rangy mongrel approaches the general area.
A rangy mongrel offers a small, long-handled paintbrush to you.
You accept a small, long-handled paintbrush from a rangy mongrel.
Then does a rangy mongrel turn to Yasin. "Yes," [in Sirdabi] he bids, glancing toward the fellow's apron. "Let me see it." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods a couple of times, before reaching into his apron to produce whatever it is that is the subject.
Yasin gets out a small wooden box from a heavy, soot-stained leather apron in his possession.
Yasin opens the lid of a small wooden box.
You have emoted: Sassafrass smirks faintly at the flourishing twirl with the which the paintbrush is presented -- 'showoff', it seems to say -- but she gives a small nod of thanks to a rangy mongrel as she takes it in hand. "I'm ready to apply the concoction as soon as I've got it," [in Sirdabi] she agrees.
Yasin opens the box to look inside as though to gauge that the item is, in fact, still present, and hands it over to a rangy mongrel almost reverently.
Yasin offers a small wooden box to a rangy mongrel.
A rangy mongrel accepts a small wooden box from Yasin.
Ziyad parks himself to one side of the door with his arms folded across his chest. While he watches on curiously, there's also a sense of tension and alertness coming off him.
"Do you know if this will permanently... harm, the item?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks you, a small amount of tension in his jaw as he asks it.
You have emoted: Sassafrass quirks an eyebrow at Yasin, then tells him briefly, "Shouldn't. It will just need to be washed off thoroughly." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel wipes his grubby paws off on his equally grubby cloak and accepts the box from Yasin gingerly, as though reluctant to actually touch it, like maybe he'll dirty it. He tilts the lid back with the careful press of one thumb, and takes a slow breath. "... Good," [in Sirdabi] he murmurs. He turns then to bob down into a squat beside where you works.
A rangy mongrel drops to a crouch on the floor.
Yasin looks both surprised as well as relieved at your answer, some amount of tension loosening from him. He nods thankfully and says, "Good. Thank you." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: This seems to remind Sassafrass of something important, as she now raises her head fully and rakes a stern glance around the room. "I am going to apply this concoction in a thin coat all over this item. According to the way the spell works, -no one- must GIVE this object to anyone else when transferring it. -Only to the witch.- Set it down somewhere, let the other person pick it up. It shouldn't need to change hands much, but just in case." [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad releases a soft breath. "Yes, that's good..." [in Sirdabi with a light, airy tenor] he utters in relief. Then, he lapses back into silence to watch you, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the instructions.
Yasin's attention is focused at this sternly-given warning, and he nods his head slowly. Very slowly, his eyes flitting between whatever it is that you is brewing, and the box in a rangy mongrel's hands.
Ighlaf listens with a slow, sober nod.
Ziyad focuses quietly.
"...Who is to be the deliverer?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks, afterwards.
Ziyad seems bolstered by something.
You have emoted: Sassafrass explains, "It's the giving, and the willing acceptance, that triggers the action of the concoction." [in Sirdabi] She waggles the paintbrush at everyone in turn. "What it does is suppress a person's ability to use their own reserve of echos to fuel any spell they might try to cast. It also just makes it much more difficult to handle echos in general. Now..." [in Sirdabi] She sweeps The Look around again. "None of you is probably a mage or a witch, but it will still make you feel very very peculiar and bad to suppress your connection to your inner echos. It's not quite your life force, but it's closely enough related. It's the substance in you that resonates with the Song." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel listens closely, eyes held fast on you. No questions are asked. There's a nod to show his understanding, then he carefully sets the box down beside her knee, well within reach, and turns to lift a contemplative frown onto Yasin for his question. He's thinking.
A rangy mongrel drops a small wooden box on the floor.
Yasin gives a tense breath out, and a slow nod of his head following after that additional clarification from you. His eyes follow the look around the room to each person, before settling back on a rangy mongrel.
You have emoted: Sassafrass purses her lips. "Also, and perhaps still more importantly, I'm not sure whether triggering the concoction's power more than once might weaken it each time. And we certainly don't want that, at all." [in Sirdabi] Another Look comes around, making sure everyone agrees with this as they had damn well better.
You peer at a scuffed wooden box.
You straighten and walk over to the frame of the open creaky cragpine shutters.
Ziyad grimaces when he hears your explanation. He purses his lips, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot. After a moment, he hesitantly states, "I... likely shouldn't touch it at all. But I shouldn't step too close to the witch anyway..." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf gives a slight shudder at those later words from you. "Noted." [in Sirdabi with a muted countertenor]
You approach a small wooden box.
You approach the frame of the open creaky cragpine shutters.
"I understand." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, deciding to voice his acceptance. "The only person we should GIVE the item to is the witch. None other. To avoid harm, and to avoid weakening it." [in Sirdabi] A firm nod follows.
You have emoted: Sassafrass totally didn't open *that other* box, nope. Definitely not her business.
You drop to a crouch near the frame of the open creaky cragpine shutters.
You straighten and walk over to a small wooden box.
You take out a small smoky crystal sphere from a small wooden box.
Once you has spoken and been heard, a rangy mongrel washes his tongue around his teeth and presses back up onto his feet. While she sets about her business with the sphere, he talks. "All right. Listen," [in Sirdabi] he addresses Ziyad, smith, and Ighlaf, in a tone as grave as his expression.
Yasin fixes his attention on a rangy mongrel at that. His hand fidgets over by his collar.
Yasin reaches out to touch a faded folly-pendant.
Ighlaf is certainly listening with their focus shifting from that sphere to a rangy mongrel fully.
A rangy mongrel "The witch is expecting me tonight. She wants to make a trade with me." [in Sirdabi] He turns his face fractionally toward you where she's busy. "At risk of our lives, the Rabbit and I have chosen to take the opportunity to try to put an end to her." [in Sirdabi] He rakes his eyes across the trio, calm and steady. "However, the witch is not expecting me to bring the sphere. And so, I need not necessarily be the one to bear it. Matter of fact, I do not know if it is best for me to do so." [in Sirdabi] (Stand - within the general area -)
You have emoted: Sassafrass studies sphere for a moment, real curiosity in her gaze, and one gets the impression that she really just wants to sit there and study the thing for a while. But then she gives a sharp shake of her head and returns her attention to present business. Placing a small smoky crystal sphere in her lap for a moment, she pulls up a loose fold of her cloak-blanket and wraps it around her hand. Then she plucks the sphere back up, as carefully as she can.
You have emoted: Sassafrass dips her paintbrush into the concoction -- a viscous deep amber liquid that, oddly, gives off a faint fragrance of myrrh despite how weird it looks -- and begins to paint the entire surface of the sphere with a thin layer of the stuff. She waves it lightly to dry it as she does so,and after just a short time it's covered with a barely visible coat -- surely good enough for a night time encounter.
Yasin looks distinctly thoughtful for several moments at a rangy mongrel's words. His eyes flit to Ziyad, then Ighlaf, then back. "I-- don't know that it makes sense for it to be any of us. None of us have shown reason that we trust her, to my knowledge." [in Sirdabi] His jaw shifts to and fro. "It was Firo who she'd tasked with retrieving the sphere." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf flickers through several thoughts, their brows knitted together. "The three of us...have clearly shown the witch we do not entirely trust her before alongside her actions against us." [in Sirdabi] they give a slow dip of their head to Yasin, "Firo would be the better choice." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns up at a rangy mongrel only when she's done with this delicate task. "You may be the only one of us whom she expects to be her actual... minion." [in Sirdabi] She wrinkles her nose. "So it may have to be you, regardless." [in Sirdabi]
You put down a small smoky crystal sphere near a small wooden box.
You approach the general area.
You pick up a steel ring-handled throwing knife from the floor.
A rangy mongrel "If the sphere fails, the poison can also be delivered by a sharp point to the back of her skull." [in Sirdabi] Which explains all the knives set out beside your mortar and pestle. "And if either succeeds, then we will cut her down." [in Sirdabi] In no uncertain terms, there's to be a battle. There's a pause in his outline here as you makes a fair point, and Yasin and Ighlaf also enlighten him as to another potential sphere-bearer. The dog frowns. "I have not seen nor spoken to Jida in weeks..." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin's eyes flit to you briefly, as he watches the coating being applied. But he doesn't focus on that, and instead keeps his attention on the conversation. "If it were me, it would be under the pretext of her saving my life, and I... do not think I could be convincing." [in Sirdabi]
"Nor have I." [in Sirdabi] Yasin admits to a rangy mongrel. He sets a questioning look to Ziyad and Ighlaf.
Sassafrass makes herself busy coating the blade of a steel ring-handled throwing knife with the same thin layer of weird anti-magic stuff, and then crouches down to apply the same mixture to each of the other two blades in turn. (Crouch - within on the floor -)
Ziyad nods his head in general agreement with the group. "Even if we pretend to have changed our tunes regarding her involvement in our troubles, I doubt that she'd trust us at all. She's a sly one, that witch." [in Sirdabi] He grimaces when he admits that. "Perhaps her arrogance will balance that out and she'd underestimate us all, yet it'll be best to give her less reason to question." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf looks to those knives a moment then answers, "I've seen her delivering whiskey canteens, but not of recent." [in Sirdabi] they breath a slow breath in. "If me, perhaps I could claim I am offering the sphere so she leaves other items alone." [in Sirdabi]
You put down a steel ring-handled throwing knife on the floor.
Yasin gives a nod of his head to Ziyad at that. He looks to Ighlaf at that offer.
You have emoted: Sassafrass breathes out a long sigh, then nods her head soberly. "Right. I think that'll do it." [in Sirdabi]
"I did speak to Sayyida Firo yesterday, but she did not mention where she'd be today," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad comments belatedly.
As the matter is discussed, a rangy mongrel just stands and listens, reaching up to absently pull his fingers through the tangled thicket of his facial hair. His eyes fall briefly upon the crate in the corner. But when you pronounces her work done, he murmurs only, "We should go." [in Sirdabi]
"Would she agree?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin wonders aloud, asking no one in particular. "If she'd agree..." [in Sirdabi] But he trails off at a rangy mongrel's pronouncement.
A rangy mongrel reanimates from his thinking pose then, and swiftly turns to gather up his various arms and stash them about his person. Meanwhile, he says to the three newer visitors, "There are bolts and crossbows in there. If all else fails, use what is left of the poison to arm yourselves. Perhaps you will have opportunity for another attempt at some point, ah?" [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf considers Yasin's question, "We could knock on her door, but it is too late for a courier. She may." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel picks up a small utilitarian knife from the floor.
A rangy mongrel picks up a wide-bladed dagger from the floor.
A rangy mongrel picks up a steel ring-handled throwing knife from the floor.
A rangy mongrel puts a small utilitarian knife in moth-eaten honey-patinaed camel leather khuffs.
A rangy mongrel puts a wide-bladed dagger in a small sheath of tooled leather with a single amethyst.
A rangy mongrel puts a steel ring-handled throwing knife in an ugly makeshift pocket.
"Where do you want us?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks a rangy mongrel. "We can come running, if given a signal." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass pauses, then says carefully, "Perhaps the rest of you might.. come as backup? You could stay a distance away, with the concoction and some extra weapons, just in case..." [in Sirdabi] She is clearly looking a little more nervous now that the moment for action is near at hand.
Ighlaf frowns into that crate, "I have...no inkling on how to use a crossbow, but could set some to my knife." [in Sirdabi]
"Has to be sharp, and to the base of the skull?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks in confirmation, setting his jaw.
Ziyad grimaces and a hand creeps to a mahogany suede mizuda. "I also have a knife with me. I'm not very good at using it, but I'll do what I can should that time come." [in Sirdabi]
"On the far side of the bramble-wall?" [in Sirdabi] supposes a rangy mongrel, but he doesn't sound particularly fussed on this desperate contingency plan. He'll leave it to these three. "Could hear us from there, may-be." [in Sirdabi] The opposite to you, it seems the closer the time for action comes, the steadier and more resolved he appears.
"I like her idea." [in Sirdabi] Yasin then adds in additional support to your words. "We can wait there, yes." [in Sirdabi]
Caaaareful-careful, a rangy mongrel gathers the sphere up from the floor, and swaddles it in his cloak.
A rangy mongrel picks up a small smoky crystal sphere from the floor.
"I can carry the concoction." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, just starting to go into do-a-thing mode, apparently.
Yasin reaches to pick up a deep wood-carved stew bowl, though he gives a look to you first, as though waiting confirmation before he accidentally does something terrible. Possibly.
Ighlaf chews on their cheek, "We can apply it there, perhaps. I am away to my flat a moment, and will meander there than stepping through as a crowd." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass nods to Yasin in permission, and only tells him, "Try not to slop any!" [in Sirdabi] Then she frowns over to a rangy mongrel, guardedly.
And that's that. A rangy mongrel is now ready. He moves for the door and sets his hand to the knob, looking round at his tense companions and watching Yasin set about his own purpose there. To all and sundry - but especially to you - he says, "What can be done has been done, ah? The matter lies now with Annur." [in Sirdabi] His black eyes crinkle at their outer corners in a surprisingly untroubled not-quite-smile that presents nowhere else on his face. "May He take pity on us all." [in Sirdabi] Perhaps that's his version of a quick prayer.
You fall in with a rangy mongrel.
Yasin picks up a deep wood-carved stew bowl from the floor.
A rangy mongrel approaches the closed rectangular pinewood door.
A rangy mongrel opens the rectangular pinewood door.
You have emoted: Sassafrass asks rakim uncomfortably, "Do you need to, ah... tie me up or something of the sort? So it looks... proper." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin blinks.
"Oh," [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, as though finally understanding something about the conversation. "The trade," [in Sirdabi] he says.
Ighlaf dips their head slowly to a rangy mongrel's words soberly. Then lifts their eyebrows a moment. "I...have a rope in my room if you ah...need one." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin places a deep wood-carved stew bowl on the floor.
Yasin gets out a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope from an impeccable brown buckskin backpack in his possession.
Looking almost casual there by the door now, a rangy mongrel turns a fuller attention to you. "I am going to throw you over my shoulder to haul you to her, and we will pretend that I have drugged you." [in Sirdabi] He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall again. "If I bind you, you will not be able to run if things turn to Shadow-shit." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin (carefully) sets the concoction back on the floor, then reaches into his pack for the rope. But a rangy mongrel's words make sense to him, so away the rope goes.
Yasin puts a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope in an impeccable brown buckskin backpack.
Yasin picks up a deep wood-carved stew bowl from the floor.
"Oh, that's the trade...?" [in Sirdabi] Ziyad states, soundingly faintly dismayed at the prospect. "What would she--" [in Sirdabi] He clamps his lips shut before he finishes, opting to shake his head grimly instead.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes walks through the rectangular pinewood door.
A rangy mongrel is standing by the open door, hand still on the knob. Everyone in here looks like they're just about to file out.
You have emoted: Sassafrass pulls a very decided grimace at a rangy mongrel, but nods in grudging acceptance of this. "Fine," [in Sirdabi] she grumbles. "I won't bite your ear off. This time." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin looks alarmed -- for a moment -- at an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's arrival, but when he sees it is her, he simply nods in greeting.
"What a shame!" [in Sirdabi] a rangy mongrel airily laments to you, a twinkle in the eye. He turns to sweep out through the door and-- nearly runs directly into an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
Ziyad is no longer following Yasin.
Ziyad falls in with Yasin.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly startles as she nearly collides with a rangy mongrel, and hastily takes a step back, standing now just before the doorway. "He's gone now to the woods," [in Sirdabi] she says without preamble, looking to a rangy mongrel as she says this. But then her eyes flit to all the others gathered here, eyes slightly wide.
"Then you'd better move quickly." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to a rangy mongrel and you.
"Then so must we," [in Sirdabi] a rangy mongrel agrees with Yasin, though his steady gaze stays on an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. There's a brief, wordless pause, which could have been filled with all kinds of things and isn't. Then he bids Ziyad, Yasin, and Ighlaf over one sharp shoulder, "Fill her in." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf gives only a bare greeting to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, distracted frowning at those words.
Ighlaf is no longer following Yasin.
Ighlaf falls in with Yasin.
Yasin says to you, next, "And you... might not want to be holding that paintbrush." [in Sirdabi]
You cough.
You offer a small, long-handled paintbrush to Yasin.
Yasin accepts a small, long-handled paintbrush from you.
Yasin puts a small, long-handled paintbrush in a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
A rangy mongrel bids the room a simple - highly unusual - "... Good-bye." [in Sirdabi] And off he goes.
Ziyad dips his head to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, lips tightening for a second. "Dreamer guide your paths. With his blessing, we will not need to intercede," [in Sirdabi] he says to you and a rangy mongrel.
You have emoted: Sassafrass says, "Ah, yes, that's quite correct. And you may need it yourself." [in Sirdabi] She pauses. "Though we'll hope not." [in Sirdabi]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes matches a rangy mongrel's gaze with one fixed one of her own. Intent, for whatever reason. Then she glances to the others behind him and steps back, standing well clear of the doorway now.
A rangy mongrel walks away through the rectangular pinewood door, swift and purposeful.
Yasin walks away through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
Ziyad walks away through the rectangular pinewood door.
Ighlaf walks away through the rectangular pinewood door.
You straighten to stand within the general area.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes starts towards the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door. (Stand - near the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door -)
Sassafrass starts towards the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door. (Stand - near the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door -)
Yasin walks through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
Ziyad walks through the rectangular pinewood door.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes walks away through the rectangular pinewood door.
You walk through the rectangular pinewood door.
You fall in with a rangy mongrel.
[St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, A Narrow Landing Outside a Door]
This narrow landing stands atop a section of faintly-warped wood planks, greying with age and rough weathering. The unwelcoming, rickety staircase progresses upwards and downwards from the unceremonious presentation of a rectangular pinewood door.
A rangy mongrel is standing near the northward direction, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand. Ighlaf is standing near the northward direction. An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is here.
Cardinal Exits: north: rectangular pinewood door (open) and south
Moving towards the southward direction, a rangy mongrel leaves the vicinity of the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door. (Stand - at the general area -)
A rangy mongrel goes to stand near the southward direction.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes seems struck by a strange dizziness out of nowhere.
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
[Locale of St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, Stairwell]
Immediately before the entrance door is a dank stairwell, lit only by a few wall sconces that bear smoky and ever-dwindling tapers. The wooden stairs rise upward through the wattle-and-daub structure, fitted clumsily against the timber framing of the walls in rectilinear fashion, with narrow landings for each set of doors. Imperfectly built, the heights of the risers are uneven between one step and the next, and the treads slanted, saggy, or battered. Past the bottom floor, one can duck beneath the first flight of stairs and pass through into a dim reception area.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
Cardinal Exits: west
Other: out: rickety pine door (open)
A rangy mongrel walks out of a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door, swift and purposeful.
You walk out of a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door.
A rangy mongrel walks southeast, swift and purposeful.
You walk southeast.
[St Loomis, Beacon Row]
At this epicenter from which St Loomis's poorer homes stagger outwards along rutted streets, it might be difficult to orient oneself in relation to the rest of the town. Nevertheless the hulking outer wall exists as a tangible presence to the north and east, felt as much as seen. The cathedral tower pushes skyward to the southwest, but rising above all else is the great lighthouse -- a looming beacon cutting through the southeastern sky, no less visible in the depths of night than during the daytime.
A rosy-brown-haired guard is here. A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and northwest
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Beacon Row]
Even a passing examination readily reveals these ill-constructed tenements as homes for the poorer workers of the city, most of them destined for precarious employment at the docks or in other seasonal jobs. Winding amidst the leaky and crumbling structures with seemingly little purpose or plan, the streets and alleys are pitted with holes that pose a peril to any but the sturdiest cart wheel. Laundry that never quite seems able to shed its dingy grey flaps overhead, saluting the occasional pig or goat combing the muck in search of a morsel of garbage.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night. Faint scorch marks can be seen hereabouts, barely noticeable.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and southeast
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Main Street, Outside the Seaglass Inn]
Spring-green tendrils of viny creeper trail from the eaves of a two-story building on the western side of sturdy cobbled Main Street. The structure's creaking wooden sign is painted with a pale green shard over the etched symbols of a tankard and a bed, with a matching sigil marking a rustic wooden gate in the stone wall that adjoins the building on the north. A neat cedar bench set to one side of the doors allows a fine view of the street out of the way of traffic. Off to the north the intersection with Post Street is visible, where crowds gather around the central fountain with its miniature lighthouse beacon.
A cluster of small iron bells hang from one of the double doors to the Seaglass Inn, lending a cheerful jingle to any comings and goings.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and west: rustic wooden gate (open)
Other: the Seaglass Inn: set of double doors (open)
A small muddy puddle in the cobbled street offers up a mirror for the sky.
A rangy mongrel hasn't even bothered to raise his hood tonight, that's weird. He marches along with you in tow sans any sign of hesitation. When he passes the Seaglass, he peers into the open doors out of habit... and double-takes as he draws to a quick halt.
A rangy mongrel begins to watch the direction of the Seaglass Inn.
You have emoted: Sassafrass peers first at a rangy mongrel, than at the door to the inn. "What are we waiting for?" [in Sirdabi] she hisses, despite the fact that appears more than a little reluctant to get to where they're going.
Sharp pinpoints of stars sparkle overhead, cold and brilliant in the cloudless sky.
A rangy mongrel scrunches a faint grimace, staring directly at the pair he can espy indoors for a long, long moment. "Ah..." [in Sirdabi] Reluctance -- the first sign of any so far tonight. Then he mumbles, "... Nothing," [in Sirdabi] and continues on his way.
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Main Street]
The way grows muddier and more haphazard as one proceeds further south along Main Street. Wooden planks cross shallow roadside trenches from residences and shops alike, and here and there a vendor's stall narrows the cobbled road in such a way as to earn the enmity of haste-making wagon drivers. Westward a narrow court branches off the street, while off to the north a stonewalled yard encircles a soaring spire-topped church, appearing to offer some small refuge from the chaos.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, southeast, north, and west
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Market Square]
Just as traffic from north Main Street begins to grow uncomfortably clogged by a sudden proliferation of market stalls, the road widens into a cobble-paved square that provides ample space for the town's various artisans to hawk their wares. Carts and wagons travel unhindered along the tidy length of Cross Street to the west, but to the east a dirty ramble of alleyways contains potholes and pits aplenty.
A cluster of small iron bells have been hung from a wind-blown line strung between neighboring stalls, where they fill the air with their cheerful jangling. A collection of baskets is lined up at one side of the square, looked over by a sharp-eyed girl. A farm stand has been set up in the square on the back of a wagon. A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
Also here is a sharp-eyed forager. A storm-eyed guard is here. A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north, south, west, and east
Other: over to the perfume stall
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Intersection of Cross and Compass Street]
An arched wooden sign painted with a bundle of bright green herbs graces the storefront of a small plank building on the south side of the street. Jammed between a line of low warehouses that begins just to its west and a taller brick building on the east, the little shop might still go unnoticed were it not for the bright display of flowers in several pots by the low front stoop. Cross Street continues east and west, while a smaller lane meanders in from the north.
A silvery-blond guard captain is standing here, holding a lump of beeswax in his right hand. A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and north
Other: a small plank shop: sage green door (open)
A soft herbal fragrance hovers in the air, mixed with the briny scent blown in from the harbor.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Cross Street]
Taller stone buildings can be seen towards the west, but here the neatly-cobbled street is flanked by the backs of warehouses on the south and modest but attractive shop fronts on the north. The street is wide and kept relatively clean of filth, with plenty of hitching posts along the sides. What looks to be a pothole on the edge of the eastern end of the street has unusually been planted with a small tree, perhaps to discourage overly hasty wagon traffic traveling between warehouses and docks.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east, west, and a wide southern storefront: pinewood door (open)
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Intersection of Cross and Silver Streets]
St Loomis's outer wall can be seen from this intersection, standing as a stark backdrop to the refined housing also visible to the west. The street narrows as it approaches the wall, but is still wide enough to accommodate a few wagons. Meanwhile a well-traveled alley pushes southward, elbowing a path between warehouses on its way to the shipyards whose acrid scent carries even here when the breeze off the sea is particularly strong.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east, west, and north
Other: a well-kept alley and a small pottery shop: woad-painted door (open)
Intermittent strains of music float down the street from the north.
A rangy mongrel walks a well-kept alley, swift and purposeful.
You walk a well-kept alley.
[St Loomis, Turpin Alley]
Cleanly cutting between warehouses, this is a relatively neat alleyway. As this side route to the docks provides access to the new vessels under construction at the shipyard rather than to the aged fishing boats further east, the salty fragrance of the clear sea can break through the comfortable must of lumber and sawdust. The alley itself is narrow and dim but straight, besides being lined with well-kept crushed stone that suggests people of importance travel this way from time to time.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
A rangy mongrel walks south, swift and purposeful.
You walk south.
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes a quietly anxious grumbling noise to herself and follows along, plucking restlessly at the veil where it covers her neck.
[St Loomis, Shipyards]
Warehouses line the northern end of the shipyard, housing necessary stores for shipbuilding and occasionally providing storage for smaller boats awaiting repair or sitting out the inclement winter. A few small stalls provide on-site work areas for craftsmen planing wood and producing pegs, ropes, and other essential fittings for the many vessels visible from this spot in various states of completion.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night. The heavy scent of acrid tar and fresh sawdust has taken up residence.
Cardinal Exits: south, west, and east
Other: a narrow alley
The wind off the ocean produces a homely whistling sound as it blows through a narrow alley leading north between warehouses.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Shipyards]
If the rest of the shipyard seems bustling with men and materials, it's nothing compared to the commotion centered around the entrance to the lumberyard. Teams of mules hauling carts full of fresh planking weave their way through knots of gesticulating workers and darting errand-runners, while the way is additionally cluttered by handcarts whose agile maneuverings nevertheless occasionally send a box or barrel careening onto the ground. An air of purposeful confusion fills the area, paradoxical and electrifying.
A slender, coal-haired guard is here. A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night. A nigh-unbearable weight of acrid tar and fresh sawdust clouds the air.
Cardinal Exits: south, east, and west: lumberyard gates (open)
A rangy mongrel walks away through the lumberyard gates, swift and purposeful.
You walk through the lumberyard gates.
A rangy mongrel walks away through the lumber camp gate, swift and purposeful.
You walk through the lumber camp gate.
[Outside St Loomis, Lumber Pathway]
The wheel-rutted dirt pathway, wide enough for two lumber carts, stretches through a stubby short grassland of rocks and tree stumps and straggling saplings. To the east rise the stone walls of the town, and to the south, past a perilous field of sharp rocks, the sea can be heard crashing. Westward looms the forest known appropriately as the Westwood, dwarfing a lumber camp in the distance.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and east: lumber camp gate (open)
A rangy mongrel walks northwest, swift and purposeful.
You walk northwest.
[Outside St Loomis, Lumber Pathway]
The pathway slopes slightly here, just enough for the traveler to notice a northwestward incline towards the trees and the lumber camp, and a decline towards the stone walls of St Loomis to the east. Since the battered dirt road is elevated enough to look out across the southern cliffs, the vast blue-green panorama of the Adelantean Sea may be viewed receding into the misty horizon. A thin path splits off here from the lumber camp road, winding off along the seaward edge of the forest.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Other: a thin path
The scent of salt drifts on the far-off roar of waves on the rocks.
A rangy mongrel walks north, swift and purposeful.
You walk north.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
A rangy mongrel walks west, swift and purposeful.
You walk west.
[Outside St Loomis, The Westwood]
Gloam pine, silver birch, and oak cluster together here near the eastern edge of the forest. The overgrowth rapidly grows denser to the west, crowding out the sky and shadowing the forest floor.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east
A rangy mongrel walks into the overgrowth westward, swift and purposeful.
You walk into the overgrowth westward.
[Outside St Loomis, the Westwood, Through Brambles and Vines]
Overgrowth crowds the tree trunks here, with vines and bushes challenging every approach deeper into the Westwood. A curtain of slinkets hangs across what appears to be a gametrail, and small wedges of limestone harden the soft, pine-needled forest floor.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: out through the overgrowth eastward and southwest through a curtain of slinkets
A rangy mongrel shoves his way into the woods, deeper and deeper, slowing only as is demanded of him by the increasingly inhospitable terrain.
A rangy mongrel pushes aside the vines to move away through the curtain of slinkets, swift and purposeful.
You push aside the vines to move through the curtain of slinkets.
A rangy mongrel walks northwest, swift and purposeful.
You walk northwest.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
The trail wends its way amidst ancient trees, their intertwining canopies often hung with an enduring cool mist. Aged evergreen needles provide a softening carpet across spongy loam and crumbling limestone.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and southwest
A rangy mongrel walks southwest, swift and purposeful.
You walk southwest.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
Yews, gloampines, and mistwoods flock the edges of this trail through the gradually thinning forest. Patches of limestone show through the loamy earth below, littered with orange needles accumulated over many seasons.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and southwest
A rangy mongrel walks southwest, swift and purposeful.
You walk southwest.
[The Westwood, Winding Forest Trail]
The narrow trail cuts through demurely below the ancient trees of the Westwood, discreetly skirting mighty trunks and hoary old roots. Soft limestone crumbles in some sections underfoot, and intermittently one can hear the muffled roar of the ocean crashing against cliffs far to the south. Here is a round flat rock.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
A rangy mongrel walks northwest, swift and purposeful.
You walk northwest.
[The Westwood, Shadow-Darkened Path]
Gloamy purple-needled pines have overtaken the majority of the overgrowth in this part of the forest, and the narrow trail beneath them is littered with conifer cones and dry old needles. The sky overhead is barely visible between the thick hanging branches and sharply clustered foliage of the dark evergreens.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
A rangy mongrel walks north, swift and purposeful.
You walk north.
[The Westwood, Before a Wall of Briars]
A wall of briars rears up from the ground here, laden with fearsome thorns. Though one might still attempt to struggle through it westward, this would not appear to be a comfortable endeavor. Gloam pines and mistwoods grow here among yews and Ruveran oaks, lightening the weight of the looming forest -- but the pleasant woods only serve to draw contrast with the perilous tangle of prickles to the west.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south
A rangy mongrel conducts a quick check-in with you over his shoulder to ensure she's still with him, then slows progress to a veritable crawl in order to pick his way through the briar-wall. He gets snagged every couple of steps, but is too stubborn to slow down.
A rangy mongrel walks away through the prickly hedge of briars, heading west.
You walk through the prickly hedge of briars, heading west.
[The Westwood, Amongst Tangled Briars]
It takes a painfully protracted battle to journey within the untender embrace of the briar thicket, with the heavy thorns snagging and jabbing every step and shove of the way. Still, a winding path does emerge between the southwest and the east, for anyone brave enough to struggle through the initial obstacles of the prickly trail. Above, the jagged fringes of gloam pines encroach upon any hopeful glimpse of sky.
A rangy mongrel is here, holding a small smoky crystal sphere in his right hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and east
Boundless skies stretch starkly overhead, while a crisp cold breeze rustles the sere undergrowth.
(Quietly): A rangy mongrel dusts a few leaves and thistles off himself, moving more quietly now, and turns to receive you on the far side of the wall.
You have emoted: Sassafrass is picking her way through even more slowly than her unaccustomed slippers might account for, but she's coming. She gulps as they get ever closer.
You have emoted: Sassafrass asks nervously, "Are we... are we...." [in Sirdabi] Another hard swallow comes. "... ready?" [in Sirdabi]
(Quietly): A rangy mongrel doesn't rush you, but he doesn't waste time either. He steps nearer to her, all bravado where she is all anxiety. "Do not lose your spirit now, Rabbit. It is your very best feature," [in Sirdabi] he tells her seriously. "Into the viper pit together. And what will be will be, nnh?" [in Sirdabi]
(Quietly): And with that, a rangy mongrel unceremoniously snags you around the hips and heaves her off the ground.
Cold stars twinkle above the world.
A rangy mongrel puts a small smoky crystal sphere in an ugly makeshift pocket.
A rangy mongrel picks you up and carries you in both his arms.
You have emoted: From her very uncomfortable position, Sassafrass agrees glumly, "What will be will be." [in Sirdabi] But she presses her mouth into a firm line after those words. Even if it looks mostly like a grimace.
A strange aura of energy seems to radiate from the Westwood, and all in town have the sudden odd feeling of something ineffable draining from them for a split second -- and then all is normal again. Or so it may appear...
(You notice someone moving stealthily!)
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb sneaks over from through the prickly hedge of briars, heading east.
(Quietly): Very uncomfortable indeed -- a rangy mongrel is as bony as he looks. There's no hope for a stealthy entrance now that he's bearing the appointed burden, and it's upon heavier, closer steps that he makes his way deeper and deeper still into the Westwood...
You have emoted: Sassafrass mutters, "Oh, hurry, something is happening... O great Dreamer, O Nirzali, oh fuck...." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel walks southwest, carrying you in his arms.
A rangy mongrel begins to watch the general direction of southeastward.
A rangy mongrel walks northwest, carrying you in his arms.
A rangy mongrel walks northwest, carrying you in his arms.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair draws an elegant swept-hilt rapier with an indented pommel from a dark leather weaponbelt.
A poised middle-aged woman drops an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes near a circle of dark-hued stone.
A poised middle-aged woman releases an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
A poised middle-aged woman has both arms raised towards the prince, standing within the stone circle. (Room Pose Set)
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is standing within the circle beside a poised middle-aged woman. (Room Pose Set)
Sharp pinpoints of stars sparkle overhead, cold and brilliant in the cloudless sky.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair sweeps an elegant swept-hilt rapier with an indented pommel free from its scabbard, his lips curling in a snarl fitting for the lynx fur he's adorned with. "Prepare yourself to be lost in the nethermost depths of the Otherland -- if you even have a soul to go there." [in Ruvic with a smooth slightly lilting tenor] He sets his feet-- and then there's both movement from behind him and before.
A poised middle-aged woman half-turns, and one arm lowers to her side. Her eyes sparkle with unutterable glee in the cold of the spring night as she entirely ignores a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair's declaration. Outstretched fingers twist in midair, as if pulling something unseen from the depth of a tunnel, as if extricating a hairball from the throat of a cat with her own claws. Caught in this posture, she sees a rangy mongrel, and a howl of her laughter splits the night. "You have brought my rabbit!" [in Ruvic with a light mezzo-soprano]
You have emoted: Sassafrass groans with great feeling from where she's limply draped over a rangy mongrel's shoulder.
A poised middle-aged woman howls, "AHA-HA-HA-HAAA!" [in Ruvic]
The sound of footsteps comes through the woods, and soon a wiry figure hunched beneath a burden appears through the trees. A rangy mongrel hauls a poised middle-aged woman within sight of the stones, bent to his task enough that he makes it nearly all the way there before taking proper stock of who all is present. He comes to a halt. Black eyes skip over a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair and a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses to fall directly onto a poised middle-aged woman. ... And an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
A rangy mongrel is obviously hauling you though.
Out of Character: a rangy mongrel rolled composure at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
... There's a flash in the eyes but a rangy mongrel's neutral - perhaps rather flat - expression doesn't shift. "Fetch is easy game," [in Ruvic] he rasps in thickly accented Ruvic without any particular feeling. And you is unceremoniously jogged from his shoulder to dump onto the ground like a sack of flour.
A rangy mongrel drops you on the ground.
You thump to the the ground near a rangy mongrel. Oof!
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair A look of absolute bafflement manages to work its way into the rage and fear that has taken over most of his face, as he can't help but follow the witch's own gaze towards these entirely unexpected arrivals -- unexpected to him, anyway, as the witch seems to have been waiting for them like she was waiting for an order to be delivered from the kitchens.
You have emoted: Sassafrass whines out a high-pitched "nnggggh" [in Sirdabi] as she hits the ground, and lies there limply.
Cold stars twinkle above the world.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair Even as he's staring over at a rangy mongrel, he still begins to move towards the witch... but it quickly turns into a stagger-step, as he turns absolutely deathly white. Apparently he did have some color in his face left lose after all. He drags a horrified gaze back to a poised middle-aged woman and slurs out, "Wh... what did you..." [in Ruvic] And then he simply collapses.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair topples bonelessly.
"Mmm," [in Ruvic] a poised middle-aged woman murmurs, as if enjoying a particularly delicious meal. One hand remains outstretched towards a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair, and the other beckons a rangy mongrel closer. "Come here, pup," [in Ruvic] she says. "Bring the rabbit. And your teeth. Ahhh --" [in Ruvic] That's a visceral groan. A flare of light pulses around her suddenly, and one can almost see the thin stream of some strange thread that she extricates from a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair.
As soon as a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair collapses on the ground, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses lets out a sharp exhalation through her nose, and instantly bounds towards him, dropping to the ground by his side. (Crouch - within on the ground -)
Fist clenching in midair, a poised middle-aged woman bares teeth in a wicked grin that makes absolutely no pretenses as to the mad power in her grasp. "Yessss," [in Ruvic] she growls, and lowers both arms to either side. Her limbs tremble with fell energy that practically glows from hungry eyes.
While below a cold smell of damp and mouldering grass fills the air, boundless skies stretch starkly overhead.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes would have stood rooted to the spot, swaying a little as a poised middle-aged woman's hand lifted from her shoulder to raise in that ominous gesture. She is silent, too, as a rangy mongrel meets her eyes, despondent, panicked eyes, but before she can do more than open her mouth to say something to him, she turns as a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair falls. She at first steps toward him with a small sound - and then, suddenly realizing the source of his incapacitation, abruptly whirls around to a poised middle-aged woman with a face full of unsuppressed fury. "You will NOT," [in Sirdabi] she snarls, and throws herself on the woman, if she can.
A poised middle-aged woman stands in the center of the stone circle, glowing subtly with fell energy. (Room Pose Set)
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with imperious power, and a barrier of soundless invisible energy blasts out from her flattened palm towards an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is struck by the blast!
Flying away, she crumples breathlessly.
Out of Character: a rangy mongrel rolled composure at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair makes a feeble scrabbling motion as for a few moments it seems he attempts to simply claw his way across the grass towards the circle. But his limbs simply give a few weak uncoordinated jerks where he lies in the grass, affording him no progress whatsoever. "Marwa...." [in Ruvic] emerges in a groan from his throat, and then he just gives another jerk and lies still.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gasps for breath.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's pupils keep losing focus.
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of a rangy mongrel's face, and his jaw visibly tightens. But there's otherwise no outward reaction to the royal personage's royal crumpling. He keeps his gaze fixed on a poised middle-aged woman, and stiffly reaches down to snatch up your ankle. He only makes it about a step before boom! Down goes an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
There's an instant of pure, breathless blankness on a rangy mongrel's face.
And then he bristles from head to toe and snarls at a poised middle-aged woman. "--Aiye! How I knowing you will not do for me like this too, ah??" [in Ruvic] is his only protest. No heroic deeds; just pure self-service. "I am not stupid like these ones. Do not make for fool of me, witch. Understand?" [in Ruvic]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes goes limp.
It's now a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses's turn for the blood to drain away from her face, and she shakes a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair's limp form furiously, doggedly, hopelessly, for several moments. But nothing happens.
That happens. An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is thrown back by the blast some distance away like a ragdoll, and perhaps it's only some smidgen of luck that stops her from striking her head against one of the standing stones before she is deposited unceremoniously on the ground. She lays very still with her face down on the ground - the shallow movement of her chest the only thing that signals her survival.
The moons light everything with a pale glow beneath the cold black sweep of the heavens.
You have emoted: Sassafrass rolls herself over on the ground, but this only seems to be for the purpose of pressing her own face into the grass. She groans some more, sounding as if she's been rather unpleasantly drugged.
You think: Fucking hell, somebody do something..
A poised middle-aged woman chuckles throatily with dark contentment as she gazes towards a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair crawling across the grass. "So much power, little lynx! And you have no capability to use it, at all! I will save you from it, ahaha, I will --" [in Ruvic] And then she squints over towards a rangy mongrel, perhaps taken aback. There's a blink.
(Quietly): There are a few more effortful breaths, like an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is trying very hard to rouse herself - or perhaps struggling for air - before the movement stills. The muscles of her face, fitfully taut with exertion, suddenly relax as she falls into unconsciousness or something deeper still.
And then, terribly, a poised middle-aged woman smiles. "Ahh, pup," [in Ruvic] she murmurs towards a rangy mongrel, a carrying breath of sweet-toned promise on the cold spring night's breeze. "I -will- do the same for you. If you do not bring me the rabbit right now, I will do faaaaar --" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman sings in a light mezzo-soprano,
"faaar, far --" [in Ruvic]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gasps for breath.
A poised middle-aged woman screams, "WORSE!" [in Ruvic]
A hunched, elder woman walks over from the southeast, hobbling along quickly.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes lies crumpled and prone near the edge of the stone circle. (Room Pose Set)
A soft cold breeze rustles quietly through the night.
As the scream washes over him and ripples out into the trees, a rangy mongrel is visibly breathing hard now, chest rising and falling like a shallow bellows. But he holds his ground. "*Fuck* your worse!" [in Ruvic] he snaps, defiant even in the face of mortal peril -- perhaps especially in the face of that. "I show I deliver," [in Ruvic] he declares, budging a toe into your leg. "You show you deliver now too." [in Ruvic] He lifts his bristly chin. "Open door. Open door like you promise to me, and..." [in Ruvic]
A rangy mongrel gets out a small smoky crystal sphere from an ugly makeshift pocket in his possession.
A rangy mongrel "... And I will give you this. For make sweeter." [in Ruvic] There's a small smoky crystal sphere in his hand now, produced from who-knows-where beneath his tattered cloak, and he holds it aloft to catch the starlight. "Is deal?" [in Ruvic]
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses's expression goes very cold indeed, as cold as a Barendts blizzard and even more fierce. In spite of this she touches a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair's now slackened face gently, smoothing down hair over pale brow and eyelids over vacantly staring eyes. Then she rises, hand moving towards her rapier. (Stand - within the general area -)
Voice lowering, a poised middle-aged woman sings in a dark mezzo-soprano,
"bring me yon rabbit, and break
yon rabbit, and take her
and take her, sweet blood
sweet blood for, sweet power
for sweet power, to make
to make in this hour, now..." [in Ruvic]
Even as a poised middle-aged woman sings towards a rangy mongrel, her arm lifts towards a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses, without even looking.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shudders convulsively on the ground, curling in on herself like a little fallen caterpillar.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with imperious power, and a barrier of soundless invisible energy blasts out from her flattened palm towards a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses is struck by the blast!
Flying away, she crumples breathlessly.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gasps for breath.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gasps for breath.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses's pupils keep losing focus.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses goes limp.
A hunched, elder woman comes tromping into the scene looking like she hasn't had so much as a moment to think on an end goal. Her green eyes flit from an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's form, to a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair, then to the blast that strikes a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses. "Elina," [in Ruvic] she eventually calls. "Be done with this." [in Ruvic with a sweet, shaky soprano]
Another one bites the dust. A rangy mongrel stays standing. The barest, briefest glance is snatched aside to a hunched, elder woman at the old woman's unlikely appearance, but it snaps right on back to a poised middle-aged woman.
Whatever deadly action she was just about to take, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses doesn't even have a chance to actually pull sword from sheath before she's slammed violently onto the ground. Even the impact doesn't wring a sound out of her, though, only a sharp whuff of breath.
OOC: Your pose will read 'a fox-faced woman with apprehensive green eyes lies curled up on the ground like a poked caterpillar, looking somewhat drugged.'.
A poised middle-aged woman breaks her stare upon a rangy mongrel, and swings her head to look towards the path of briars. She cracks a broad grin towards a hunched, elder woman, relentlessly maniacal, freed of all shackles, quivering with power. "Ohhh, dear Firooooo," [in Ruvic] she calls. "Come do what your scraggly pup will not! You have been prepared! And I will not find you wanting!" [in Ruvic]
While a biting breeze ripples the grass in cold billows, boundless skies stretch starkly overhead.
You have emoted: Sassafrass twitches again at the sound of another impact of flung body on ground. Even so she makes a quietly growly noise herself. Is she fighting against the effects of being drugged? Does her stomach hurt? Who knows. She's still lying there, regardless.
(Quietly): In the wake of a poised middle-aged woman's shrill words, an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's right hand twitches. Irregular, deeper breaths return to her form, as if some heavy stone had been lifted away from her back, allowing her lungs to expand once more. She coughs raggedly.
A rangy mongrel arcs up again as soon as the witch turns toward a hunched, elder woman. "--Fine!" [in Ruvic] he rasps, voice grown hoarse by now from all this violent use. He squares his shoulders. "I will do it. I bring." [in Ruvic]
And so he does. You is draaaaagged marching steps closer into the circle, sweeping leaves in her wake.
A rangy mongrel grips you firmly in one hand, ready to start dragging.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gasps for breath.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gasps for breath.
A rangy mongrel goes to stand near a circle of dark-hued stone, bringing you, joining a poised middle-aged woman.
A hunched, elder woman casts a glance aside at a rangy mongrel, considering, before looking back to a poised middle-aged woman. "What have you done?" [in Ruvic]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes wakes up, lying on the ground.
A poised middle-aged woman begins to level her imperious arm towards a rangy mongrel, but there's a particularly vicious glitter in her fell-glowing stare that makes it evident she is about to do as promised -- far worse. Only then, the dog comes forth, and she merely grins again.
You have emoted: Sassafrass lets out a strangled noise as a rangy mongrel begins dragging her, and for a moment she starts to struggle frantically! But the effort stops as soon as it began, and she goes limp again. Though she might be just faking it.
Through the teeth of a feral smile, a poised middle-aged woman sings in a dark mezzo-soprano,
"Gooooood." [in Ruvic]
You think: Fuckfuckfuck what if he really does it? Ohh fuck why did I agree to this...
A profound blackness stretches across the sky, chips of stars embedded in its depths like coldly sparkling jewels.
A rangy mongrel drops your ankle as soon as she starts kicking, swallowing thickly. Into one hand, he draws his tooth -- a dagger -- but nice and slow, so that a poised middle-aged woman can see him doing it. He drops his eyes onto the Rabbit then as though deciding how best to tackle this next messy job.
The other hand extends the sphere toward a poised middle-aged woman.
A rangy mongrel offers a small smoky crystal sphere to a poised middle-aged woman.
"Now your fangs, pup!" [in Ruvic] commands a poised middle-aged woman sharply, turning and stalking in a tight circumference within the stone circle. "Cut the rabbit! We shall smear her blood upon the stones, and --" [in Ruvic] She absentmindedly reaches for the sphere.
A poised middle-aged woman accepts a small smoky crystal sphere from a rangy mongrel.
A rangy mongrel drops you near a circle of dark-hued stone.
A rangy mongrel releases you.
A rangy mongrel draws a wide-bladed dagger from a small sheath of tooled leather with a single amethyst.
You have emoted: Another whine emerges in a small strangled way from Sassafrass's throat as a rangy mongrel kneels down next to her, and she gives a small twitch.
In furious terror, you think: Don't you dare, I swear I will come back from the dead and tear your own throat open with my teeth.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gasps for breath.
(At the general area): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes slits her eyes open as she wheezes, and heavily moves her head against the cold grass. What confronts her is the sight of a rangy mongrel offering that crystal sphere, you incapacitated. She takes in another few breaths - fast, labored.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses is also drawing in painful gasps of breath, as she attempts to haul herself painfully up into one elbow. She stares towards a rangy mongrel and a poised middle-aged woman, gaze cold and remote.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses wakes up, lying on the ground.
A poised middle-aged woman hefts a small smoky crystal sphere in her hand, tosses it up and catching the object. "Ah, the scrying stone of our little pawn-shop girl," [in Ruvic] she chuckles, and then flings it into the grass. "Cut the rabbit!" [in Ruvic] she demands of a rangy mongrel with a cold laugh. "Ha! We shall smear her blood upon the stones, and ..." [in Ruvic] A benevolent wink at a hunched, elder woman. "Turn back the mist, aye, dear Firo?" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman throws a small smoky crystal sphere!
The moons light everything with a pale glow beneath the cold black sweep of the heavens.
You scream.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gasps for breath.
A rangy mongrel is wound tight as a coil. Tense. Braced. Ready for...
... his eyes lift onto the witch in a slow, dread-filled crawl. He stares hard at her. And then...
a rangy mongrel laughs. Through a smile, he laughs, just two short, sharp syllables rich with some sad irony.
"You only make empty promises," [in Ruvic] a hunched, elder woman spits at a poised middle-aged woman, defiant. "You don't have the power to turn back the mist." [in Ruvic] Her gaze is set on watching a rangy mongrel.
You have emoted: That command is clearly too much for Sassafrass. As the scream leaves her throat she seems abruptly to come to life, crabbing herself awkwardly yet surprisingly swiftly a few feet away from a rangy mongrel. She sits bolt upright then, hand going for her veiled throat.
(At a circle of dark-hued stone): Through grit teeth, barely audible beneath your scream, a rangy mongrel whispers to the stones, to the woods, to the night... to nobody present. To someone far, far away: "For you, Uzzush. Forgive me, my Brother." [in Ruvic] His grip around the dagger tightens.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses struggles to rise.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gets up on her knees on the ground.
A rangy mongrel shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
A rangy mongrel draws a wide-bladed dagger back and jabs towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The stab cuts through thin air.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses struggles to rise.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses straightens to stand within the general area.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses visibly struggles to remain conscious.
With a feral snarl, a rangy mongrel launches himself at a poised middle-aged woman, dagger flashing.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses staggers to her feet with obvious effort, her hand once again going for her sword.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses draws a light steel rapier from a dark leather weaponbelt.
Yasin runs over from the southeast, very tensely, wielding a dashingly curved scimitar in his right hand.
Ziyad runs over from the southeast, wielding a masterful steel knife in his right hand.
Inaya runs over from the southeast, wielding a battered scimitar in her right hand.
Ighlaf sneaks over from the southeast, with urgent steps.
A poised middle-aged woman ducks back from a rangy mongrel's knife, her reflexes inhumanly fast -- the fell energy around her frame nearly makes her levitate above the grass for a moment. She screams with wild laughter, and it echoes between the stones under the cold stars.
Ighlaf goes to stand near a circle of dark-hued stone, joining a small crowd.
A poised middle-aged woman howls.
Yasin goes to stand near a circle of dark-hued stone, joining a small crowd.
A rangy mongrel is in the circle stone's centre, dagger in hand, launching himself wildly at a poised middle-aged woman. (Room Pose Set)
(At the general area): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes make a small sound - a strangled gasp - and attempts to push herself off the ground as everything suddenly blooms into chaos.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes struggles to rise, but cannot.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly struggles to remain conscious.
This time, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses manages to at least get the blade from its scabbard, and even if her step is unsteady, she forges across the meadow towards the stone circle.
(At a circle of dark-hued stone): Ighlaf shifts closer to a poised middle-aged woman.
Laughing maniacally, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Ahh, pup! Noble pup! Who would have known, from that haggard scraggle --" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman screams, "A HA HA HAAA!" [in Ruvic]
Ighlaf is there one moment, gone the next.
A poised middle-aged woman sings in a dark mezzo-soprano,
"Youuuu have the blooood of kings...!" [in Ruvic]
Yasin rushes in, attempts to take stock of the situation, gives a brief gaze around the circle and its occupants. He stares at the nearly levitating a poised middle-aged woman, and then charges like a goddamned maniac.
Ziyad moves in quickly, trying to keep pace with Yasin and Inaya. He urgently pans his gaze around the area, eyes going to a poised middle-aged woman first, but also looking towards an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
A soft cold breeze rustles quietly through the night.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with imperious power, and a barrier of soundless invisible energy blasts out from her flattened palm towards a rangy mongrel. Shreds of power scatter in cutting whirlwinds through the air around the blast, tearing through cloth and flesh.
A rangy mongrel is struck by the blast, rent in awful blood-spatter!
Flying away, he crumples bloodily.
A rangy mongrel almost begins to sag, but pulls himself together through sheer force of will.
Blood begins flowing from a rangy mongrel's stomach.
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
Yasin shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Yasin draws a dashingly curved scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash flies wide.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is crumpled prone in heap near the edge of the stone circle, head turned laboriously to the side toward a poised middle-aged woman. (Room Pose Set)
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes struggles to rise, but cannot.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly struggles to remain conscious.
(You notice someone moving stealthily!)
Ighlaf leans forward subtly.
Ziyad shifts to stand near the general area.
Unfortunately, 'charge in like a maniac' does not appear to be a good tactic in this situation. Or at least, it didn't work out for Yasin, and his scimitar flies wide from a poised middle-aged woman's head. He grunts, and attempts to find his balance.
You have emoted: Sassafrass gasps out, "It will still work! It will. It-- I just didn't--" [in Sirdabi] Her gaze slides widely towards a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair, then back to a poised middle-aged woman again. She gulps.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Yasin draws a dashingly curved scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's right leg.
The slash flies wide.
Ziyad curses softly when he sees a rangy mongrel has gone down. Setting his lips into a thin line, he charges in towards a poised middle-aged woman with a masterful steel knife brandished.
Through a vicious smile, the picture of defiance, a rangy mongrel roars back at a poised middle-aged woman, "I PISS ON--NGH!!" [in Ruvic] One moment, he is throwing his whole heart into a slash of steel at a poised middle-aged woman's stomach. The next, he's airborne. We never learn what to add to the long list of things that a rangy mongrel pisses on. He skids and tumbles away like a pile of bones and rags.
Ziyad goes to stand near a circle of dark-hued stone, joining a small crowd.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's right cheek.
The slash misses.
Ziyad shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Ziyad slashes with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash flies wide.
(You notice someone moving stealthily!)
Ighlaf shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Ighlaf bursts from concealment.
Ighlaf takes a swing at a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The punch flies wide.
Inaya apparently got given the same playbook as Yasin. She charges in wordlessly and makes for a poised middle-aged woman with a battered scimitar.
It seems to be no effort at all for a poised middle-aged woman, glowing with terrible energy somehow, to evade each and every weapon strike sent her way. She floats, she darts, she slams away in midair. And through it all, she giggles, as if amused by the playfulness of pets.
You have emoted: Having actually visually registered the state of affairs for the first time, Sassafrass mutters, "Shit, he's dead, isn't he. Shit shit shit.." [in Sirdabi] Then she lets out a squeak and scrabbles further backwards as blades start flying.
Ziyad inhales and then exhales.
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
No, this is *definitely* not working out for Yasin. His footwork is sloppy, and a poised middle-aged woman dodges out of the way easily. Panicked eyes flit towards you at her shout, then he looks to a rangy mongrel there.
Or Inaya doesn't, because she can't fit. Nevermind.
(At the general area): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is evidently nowhere near as resilient as a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses, who had been dealt a similar blow. She pushes against the ground, but she can do little more than watch helplessly at the scene unfolding before her, her grass-smeared face barely lifted and contorted with strain and distress. "-nnur...!" [in Sirdabi] she pleads.
Ziyad is clearly completely untrained at knifework, because there's no finesse at all in the way that he's wielding a masterful steel knife. Nevertheless, his jaw is set into a hard line while he keeps trying to reach a poised middle-aged woman.
A rangy mongrel shakily attempts to pull himself up onto an elbow. There's blood all down his front, and all in his teeth. Of all else that else might be happening, his wide eyes seek out you. "R-run," [in Sirdabi] he chokes out to her.
You have emoted: Sassafrass gawks at a rangy mongrel as he goes flying too, and then is still. It seems to surprise and horrify her a great deal more that this tattered ragbag of humanity might have fallen than some unknown prince, and she wheezes out a soft breath of shock.
Sharp pinpoints of stars sparkle overhead, cold and brilliant in the cloudless sky.
Yasin's eyes are wide and wild as he watches the chaos play out before him. Slashing doesn't seem to be working, those eyes might be thinking.
The rain of blades does make a poised middle-aged woman leave the circle, though, whizzing across the grass as though her sandaled feet were not even required to move --
A poised middle-aged woman steps away from a circle of dark-hued stone, leaving.
Yasin lands upon a poised middle-aged woman.
A poised middle-aged woman is knocked over by Yasin's tackle and both tumble to the ground.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses shifts to stand near the general area.
Ziyad leans forward subtly.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses slashes with a light steel rapier towards a poised middle-aged woman's left shoulder.
The slash flies wide.
And a poised middle-aged woman grins, the slow and feral grin of a predator tearing through a delicious meal -- up until the moment Yasin catches her in a reckless tackle. Then she's scowling.
But, apparently, being a very large smith works. Or at least, Yasin apparently tackles over a poised middle-aged woman, causing her to fall to the ground.
Inaya shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's chest.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Darkly, a poised middle-aged woman says, "You -- touched me! I can -smell- you! Blacksmith..." [in Ruvic]
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses staggers her way across the grass, picking up speed even with her unsteady step, and sweeps her blade out towards a poised middle-aged woman with an superlative grace and skill that contrast sharply with her approach. And yet still, her rapier goes wide.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes struggles to rise, but cannot.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A poised middle-aged woman sings in a dark mezzo-soprano,
"I took your wife
then saved your life
and now you will
have only strife!" [in Ruvic]
"You KILLED her!" [in Ruvic] Yasin is shouting while overtop a poised middle-aged woman. "You are a MURDERER!" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with imperious power, and a barrier of soundless invisible energy blasts out from her flattened palm towards Yasin.
Yasin is struck by the blast!
Flying away, he crumples breathlessly.
Silent, Inaya swings a battered scimitar with apparently enough accuracy to avoid her comrades, but insufficient to hit a poised middle-aged woman. She carries on anyway.
In the chaos that ensues, a hunched, elder woman is fixed on a poised middle-aged woman like she's trying to will her out of existence... until Yasin goes flying. That's her cue to move, apparently. "Run," [in Ruvic] she reiterates to you, hobbling toward Yasin.
A hunched, elder woman drops to kneel on the ground.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Inaya.
Inaya is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes struggles to rise.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gets up and stands within the general area.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly struggles to remain conscious.
"You FIEND!" [in Sirdabi] Ziyad cries out when he sees Yasin go flying like so many others. He lunges at a poised middle-aged woman with a masterful steel knife outstretched, shoes skidding on the ground in his haste.
And, unfortunately, that's just about all Yasin manges to shout, as he is blasted back with immeasurable force, looking suddenly several ticks closer to maybe-dead. He's got the wind knocked out of him, shaken, and is struggling to breathe.
You jump away from a circle of dark-hued stone.
Ighlaf screams as Yasin goes flying, "No!" [in Sirdabi] and fixes a look of rage on a poised middle-aged woman.
A poised middle-aged woman shakes her arm, then turns her palm to stare at it. "What?" [in Ruvic] she asks herself quietly.
You drop to a crouch on the ground.
A poised middle-aged woman gets up and stands within the general area.
Ighlaf shifts her grip and brandishes a small utilitarian knife in her fist.
Yasin gasps for breath.
Yasin's pupils keep losing focus.
Yasin struggles to rise.
Yasin gets up and stands within the general area, quickly scrambling up.
Ziyad lands upon a poised middle-aged woman.
A poised middle-aged woman is knocked over by Ziyad's tackle and both tumble to the ground.
Yasin visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A hunched, elder woman straightens to stand within the general area.
A soft cold breeze rustles quietly through the night.
Inaya rolls to right herself rapidly, scrambling upward to spin back toward a poised middle-aged woman. (Stand - within the general area -)
Yasin draws a dashingly curved scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash flies wide.
Ighlaf shifts her fist and brandishes a small utilitarian knife in her fist.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash misses.
Ziyad gets up and stands near the general area.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash misses.
(Quietly): You have emoted: Sassafrass Although she makes an abrupt leap away from the nearest stone, it's only to bound over to a rangy mongrel, whom she drops back into a crouch beside. "Come on," [in Sirdabi] she hisses at him. "It's going to work. Even if she-- steal somebody else's echos, she won't be able to control it forever." [in Sirdabi]
"S-s-s-s" [in Sirdabi] Yasin is trying to say. "She's choking me--- think" [in Sirdabi] Desperate, ragged breaths from Yasin, though apparently he manages to attempt to get in a slash anyway, somehow.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's right cheek.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Yasin goes limp.
Being unconscious, Yasin topples bonelessly over.
A poised middle-aged woman snarls as she hits the grass again, this time below Ziyad's tackle. She shoves away, rolling swiftly, arm lifting -- the glow about her is beginning to fade to dizzy sparks.
A rangy mongrel struggles to rise, but cannot.
A rangy mongrel's pupils keep losing focus.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Ziyad.
Ziyad is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash cuts through thin air.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Inaya.
Inaya is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
(Quietly): You have emoted: Sassafrass shakes a rangy mongrel violently. This is bound to help. "So come ON!" [in Sirdabi]
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Yasin.
Yasin is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
Ziyad gets up and stands within the general area, quickly scrambling up.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Ighlaf.
Ighlaf is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
A poised middle-aged woman gets up and stands within the general area.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes Perhaps her plea to a higher power worked. As all those that she knows around her go flying, crumpling to the ground, one by one, her expression darkens with horrible fury. Murderous fury. Unsteadily and looking as if one errant breeze might knock her over again, she rises to a stand. She begins staggering over to a poised middle-aged woman, rumpled and grass-stained, drawing her blade from its sheath.
Ighlaf gets up and stands within the general area.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses struggles to rise.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses gets up and stands within the general area.
Inaya gets smashed again, hissing slightly, and rolls to get upright once more. (Stand - within the general area -)
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife back and jabs towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The stab flies wide.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's chest.
The slash flies wide.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes draws a bronze-handled jambiya from a curved embroidered-leather sheath.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A rangy mongrel goes limp.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses draws a light steel rapier through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left eye.
The slash misses.
Inaya draws a battered scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash flies wide.
Yasin manages to get in one more slash, which of course cuts through the air, accomplishing nothing, and he then flops to the ground, unconscious.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
A hunched, elder woman gets out a dark-stained glass phial from a wicker basket in her possession.
Ighlaf draws a small utilitarian knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left hip.
The slash flies wide.
Ziyad slashes with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's right cheek.
The slash misses.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's neck.
The slash cuts through thin air.
(Quietly): A rangy mongrel is breathing fast and shallow, gaze clouding over. He only appears to really see you when she comes closer to him. He snatches roughly at her sleeve, chokes on something he's trying to say to her... and then goes slack.
There's no sight of the subtle magery that was channeling from a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair to a poised middle-aged woman now. She attempts to right herself, staggering away in the grass, a scowl writ upon her features -- anger!
Inaya draws a battered scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's neck.
The slash misses.
A hunched, elder woman brings some smelling salts up under Yasin's nose.
A poised middle-aged woman shouts, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME..!" [in Ruvic]
Yasin comes awake, choking and gagging.
(Quietly): You have emoted: Sassafrass scowls furiously at a rangy mongrel. "God damn you, you sad sack of pus-weeping bruul balls! You hauled me out here! You're supposed to get up and do something!" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin struggles to rise.
Yasin gets up and stands within the general area, quickly scrambling up.
Yasin's pupils keep losing focus.
"We won't let you hurt anyone else," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad howls, waving a masterful steel knife around wildly at a poised middle-aged woman, unable to land a blow despite his best efforts.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad stab with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's left hip.
The stab flies wide.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's right shoulder.
The slash misses.
Inaya draws a battered scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Yasin draws a dashingly curved scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left cheek.
The slash misses.
(Quietly): Ighlaf misses with their blade, and their gaze flits from Yasin then to a rangy mongrel with their usual composure shattered. Their gaze flits back to a poised middle-aged woman with their blade held tight.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes leans forward subtly.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's left arm.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Yasin goes limp.
Being unconscious, Yasin topples bonelessly over.
Inaya just keeps slashing out at a poised middle-aged woman, intent and focused, scowling very angrily indeed.
Yasin gasps for breath.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's right eye.
The slash cuts through thin air.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife back and jabs towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The stab cuts through thin air.
Ziyad slashes with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's left hip.
The slash cuts through thin air.
"Run. Don't keep swinging," [in Ruvic] a hunched, elder woman tells Yasin, despite how unconscious he is. She's already on her way to a rangy mongrel at this point.
Inaya draws a battered scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's back.
The slash misses.
A hunched, elder woman brings some smelling salts up under a rangy mongrel's nose.
A rangy mongrel comes awake, choking and gagging.
A profound blackness stretches across the sky, chips of stars embedded in its depths like coldly sparkling jewels.
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks up from a rangy mongrel to shriek over at a poised middle-aged woman, "We tricked you, you bruulfucking book-stealing witch!" [in Sirdabi] Somehow she manages to make the book part sound the worse of the two. "Not so helpless as you thought, am I!" [in Sirdabi] Though this is not perhaps the best approach to dealing with a maddened magic flinging witch, but the vengefulness in her voice seems unable to be suppressed.
A divine brilliancy of stars sweeps the full arc of the heavens, scintillant jewels against midnight blue velvet.
It is night, the hour of ashes.
A poised middle-aged woman continues to leap back, growling. She clenches a fist, and lifts one arm, glaring at Inaya.
Ziyad slashes with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's right cheek.
The slash misses.
Yasin, meanwhile, is... not looking very good. He was brought awake by a hunched, elder woman for a moment, apparently attempted some mad slashes in desperate anger and rage towards a poised middle-aged woman, and then, void of breath, fell back to the ground, useless. What might be most concerning, though, for anyone watching the smith is that he seems to not be breathing.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with dubious charge, and a wisp of feeble energy whips out from her flattened palm towards Inaya.
Inaya is struck by the wisp, and flattened as if from a shove.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses draws a light steel rapier through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's right cheek.
The slash flies wide.
Yasin wakes up, lying on the ground.
Yasin struggles to rise.
Yasin gets up and stands within the general area, quickly scrambling up.
Yasin visibly struggles to remain conscious.
Ziyad slashes with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's right leg.
The slash misses.
Yasin drops to lie down on the ground.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses feints sharply at a poised middle-aged woman.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes doesn't seem to register a poised middle-aged woman's yell. She approaches the melee, and as strike after strike misses from far better combatants than she, she draws her arm back as if to stab a poised middle-aged woman, aiming as close to her chest as she can dare.
Inaya snarls irritably as she's smacked to the ground like a griddlecake being flipped again, rolling to scramble to her feet. (Stand - within the general area -)
Yasin struggles to rise.
Yasin gets up and stands within the general area, quickly scrambling up.
"Don't let up! Whatever she's doing, it can't last forever!" [in Sirdabi] Ziyad gasps between sharp swings of his arm. Sweat drips into his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes draws a bronze-handled jambiya back and jabs towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The stab cuts through thin air.
Yasin visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with a weak tremble, and a paltry spark of energy drifts out from her flattened palm towards Ziyad.
Ziyad is struck by the spark, and nothing happens.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with a weak tremble, and a paltry spark of energy drifts out from her flattened palm towards Ighlaf.
Ighlaf is struck by the spark, and nothing happens.
Yasin is conscious, barely managing to hold it together, and still struggling to breathe. He is awake, however, to watch when Ziyad apparently shrugs off a poised middle-aged woman's attack.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts an arm with a weak tremble, and a paltry spark of energy drifts out from her flattened palm towards an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is struck by the spark, and nothing happens.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shrieks out while still shaking a rangy mongrel, "She stole that stupid fucker's echos somehow so she didn't have to use her own! But she won't be able to keep this up!" [in Sirdabi]
...and that. That seems to bolster Yasin.
A rangy mongrel convulses back into consciousness, eyes rolling in their sockets. He struggles to make them focus on anything for a moment, but first finds a hunched, elder woman. Wracking pain comes next, and it makes him scrunch his face back up again. Broader awareness is a spottier thing, and his head lolls aside as he tries to get a sense of what in the shit is going on anymore.
He sees you is still here, crowing about something or other. Through his teeth, he scorns, "... stuh...born.. idiot..." [in Sirdabi] Hypocrite much?
Ziyad grunts softly and plants his feet in anticipation of getting rocked backwards. He's caught by surprise when he barely budges.
"She's out of p-power," [in Sirdabi] Yasin sputters, attempting to rise to his feet.
Ighlaf flinches, bracing themselves until that spark does nothing.
A hunched, elder woman unceremoniously gives a rangy mongrel a good dose of smelling salts, looming over him a moment before raising back up to a stand.
A rangy mongrel hasn't voice enough left to so much as groan, so it's just a voiceless kind of scraping that wheezes out of him as you jostles him. He tries at this point once again to get his knees under himself in one last futile effort.
A poised middle-aged woman snarls with rage, and lifts both hands. "You have doomed us all!" [in Ruvic] she cries out through clenched teeth, and there's the sense that she's expelling force from either palm at once, but -- nothing at all happens. No sparks. No wisps... no blasts. Only a strange shiver that wracks her, and then -- an awful smile that overtakes the rage with such sudden intensity that the witch appears truly insane.
A rangy mongrel struggles to rise, but cannot.
A rangy mongrel's pupils keep losing focus.
Ighlaf slashes with a small utilitarian knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's left arm.
The slash misses.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses shifts quickly to strike at a poised middle-aged woman's left hip.
The strike misses due to a poised middle-aged woman's dodge.
Yasin gasps for breath.
Ziyad stab with a masterful steel knife towards a poised middle-aged woman's nose.
The stab cuts through thin air.
Ziyad draws a masterful steel knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left eye.
The slash flies wide.
Inaya slashes with a battered scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
The slash misses.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's neck.
The slash misses.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes draws a bronze-handled jambiya through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left arm.
The slash flies wide.
You have emoted: "Get up, you stupid ragbag!" [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass is hissing at a rangy mongrel. "It's happening! She's losing her control over it. This is your chance to deal your own blow!" [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf glances around swiftly for an escape.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes flinches as a spark touches her chest, but she still remains standing. She stares at a poised middle-aged woman and the unhinged smile that draws over her face. "You insolent bitch," [in Ruvic] she says. And throws herself at the witch-woman again.
A rangy mongrel goes limp.
A hunched, elder woman shifts her grip and brandishes a brass-capped reed cane in her fist.
A poised middle-aged woman cackles chaotically. "You deserve it!" [in Ruvic] she howls. "You deserve ..." [in Ruvic] And she sags, some of the energy going out of her frame -- vulnerable. "... to live, to live forever. Hahahaha." [in Ruvic]
Cold stars twinkle above the world.
Ziyad ignores a poised middle-aged woman's proclamation. If anything, he sets his jaws firmer and the anger in his gaze grows.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses is continue to put out thrust after thrust, ferocious and yet graceful at the same time, even as they keep missing. But the grimly determined light in eyes strongly indicates she's not about to give up.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses slashes with a light steel rapier towards a poised middle-aged woman's right leg.
The slash clashes harshly into a watchet wool skirt and a mismatched scrap leather cloak over a poised middle-aged woman's right leg.
Blood begins gushing from a poised middle-aged woman's right leg.
Gasping still, ragged, weakened, Yasin shouts to a poised middle-aged woman, "No more t-tormenting from y-you, murderer!" [in Ruvic] And with that, he charges at her.
(Quietly): Ighlaf shifts closer to a poised middle-aged woman.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses doesn't make a sound as her blade finally strikes home, though her eyes light up exultantly for one brief moment before they return to their absolutely frigid stare.
Inaya likewise is oblivious to the fallen, or anything else except her attempts on a poised middle-aged woman, scimitar flashing out again, eyes tracking the fight, her movements seemingly easy and practiced.
Ighlaf darts closer, moving as if to throw their knife at a poised middle-aged woman's face.
The attempt to distract is successful.
Ighlaf drops a small utilitarian knife on the ground.
Ighlaf tries to choke a poised middle-aged woman, but can't secure a good strong grip.
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks utterly frustrated and exasperated by a rangy mongrel's abject failure to do anything but lie there just as abjectly. Finally she at least gives up shaking him, but she stays by his side nevertheless, watching the fight narrowly from this small distance.
Inaya draws a battered scimitar through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
A poised middle-aged woman wavers for a second and then falls to the the ground on both knees.
The slash connects with a savage whack against a dingy undyed wool kerchief over a poised middle-aged woman's head.
Blood is hemorrhaging from a poised middle-aged woman's head.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
Ighlaf picks up a small utilitarian knife from the ground.
Ighlaf shifts her grip and brandishes a small utilitarian knife in her fist.
Ighlaf shifts aggressively towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Ighlaf draws a small utilitarian knife through the air in a slash towards a poised middle-aged woman's left cheek.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
In close quarters, the slash cuts in solidly upon a poised middle-aged woman's left cheek.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
A poised middle-aged woman sings in a dark mezzo-soprano,
"In this trapped cell you'll live in hell
Forever, and well, I know, I can tell
I need no spell to cast that knell
It's life, for you, not d-death..." [in Ruvic]
Ziyad breaths heavily as he tries to keep up in the chaotic melee. He's growing more sluggish now from growing fatigue, yet he keeps charging earnestly. The sight of blows beginning to connect and a poised middle-aged woman collapsing finally causes true hope to break out onto his features.
A poised middle-aged woman whispers something, involving Ighlaf.
A rangy mongrel wakes up, lying on the ground.
Inaya looks unnerved, despite her apparent competency with a battered scimitar, scowling tensely at a poised middle-aged woman's song. Apparently she figures another strike might do the trick to stop this.
A profound blackness stretches across the sky, chips of stars embedded in its depths like coldly sparkling jewels.
A rangy mongrel gasps down a deep breath like he just emerged from deep water, and immediately chokes on it. It seems like each time he returns to consciousness is less gentle than the last. He curls up around the coughing fit.
(Quietly): You have emoted: Sassafrass leans down just a little towards a rangy mongrel and tells him with vicious satisfaction, "We're winning. She's going to die." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya and Ighlaf get strikes in before Yasin has a chance, his eyes widening in particular at Inaya's blow. But something about a poised middle-aged woman's song, or something else, causes him to fly into a rage, and he shouts out, "NO MORE!" [in Ruvic] towards a poised middle-aged woman.
Struck down by knives and heavier blades, a poised middle-aged woman lies at Inaya's feet. The violence of an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes and Ighlaf has left its mark upon her face, rent flesh steaming and seeping blood in a disfiguring mass that warps her strange little witch's smile into something truly terrible -- even as those eyes go glassy, and her song fades to a whispered breath.
A rangy mongrel struggles to rise.
A rangy mongrel gets up and stands within the general area.
A rangy mongrel's pupils keep losing focus.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's head.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
The slash clashes tremendously into a dingy undyed wool kerchief over a poised middle-aged woman's head.
Blood is hemorrhaging from a poised middle-aged woman's head.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
Yasin slashes with a dashingly curved scimitar towards a poised middle-aged woman's left leg.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
The slash clashes savagely into a watchet wool skirt and a mismatched scrap leather cloak over a poised middle-aged woman's left leg.
Blood is hemorrhaging from a poised middle-aged woman's left leg.
A poised middle-aged woman's frame involuntarily slackens.
Ighlaf whispers something, involving a poised middle-aged woman.
A rangy mongrel goes limp.
Being unconscious, a rangy mongrel topples bonelessly over.
A hunched, elder woman steps back into the darkness, waiting, but letting the shadows take over most of her features. She flits a glance to a rangy mongrel when he falls before returning it to a poised middle-aged woman.
A hunched, elder woman goes to stand near the southeastward direction.
A poised middle-aged woman whispers something, involving Ighlaf.
A hunched, elder woman seems to be keeping an eye on a poised middle-aged woman.
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks encouraged for just an instant as a rangy mongrel struggles to rise.... but nope, then he's planted right back down on the ground again. She huffs out a short sharp sigh, then seems to give up entirely.
"If you consider living hell, then leave this life and bother the rest of us no more," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad pants softly, glaring down at a poised middle-aged woman.
(Hidden) Ighlaf shakes their head smiling grimly, "I didn't want life, before. I do now that hell has lifted." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel really needs to learn when to stay down, but is too stubborn. He curls a pale, trembling fist around his dagger and with a herculean, staggering effort, grips your arm and pulls himself almost upright, mustering a fresh, bloody snarl of murderous intent for a poised middle-aged woman. ... until he once again isn't upright anymore.
Ighlaf bumps into a poised middle-aged woman.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
Ighlaf tries to stop fighting.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
Cold stars twinkle above the world.
A rangy mongrel tries to stop fighting.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
A poised middle-aged woman tries to stop fighting.
Inaya tries to stop fighting.
(Quietly): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes becomes very still as a poised middle-aged woman lays there on the ground, blood gushing from her wounds. Like a human. She lets go of her blade, and it drops by her feet.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
A poised middle-aged woman goes slack and lifeless.
A faint death rattle escapes a poised middle-aged woman.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
Ighlaf tries to stop fighting.
Inaya departs.
Inaya arrives.
Yasin tries to stop fighting.
Yasin drops a dashingly curved scimitar on the ground.
Ziyad tries to stop fighting.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes drops a bronze-handled jambiya on the ground.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes tries to stop fighting.
Yasin drops a dashingly curved scimitar to the ground, as it becomes clear that there is no more reason to cut at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. He stands there, taking in shallow breaths, watching, a dark rage and fear and fury still coursing through him.
Yasin gasps for breath.
Even with that last shuddering breath from the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses still goes ahead and plunges her rapier's point straight through the witch's chest, exhaling a breath of pure hatred. Then she lets go her hand, letting her rapier simply quiver there, and turns away.
Blood seeps from a short gash on a rangy mongrel's stomach.
"She's dead," [in Ruvic] is a hunched, elder woman's expert diagnosis, delivered blankly.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses drops a light steel rapier on the ground.
A dark leather weaponbelt with a vicious swept-hilt rapier with a silver wolfshead pommel inside stands upright, thrust through the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman's lifeless chest. (Room Pose Arranged)
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
A light steel rapier stands upright, thrust through the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman's lifeless chest. (Room Pose Arranged)
This done, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses swiftly moves back to where a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair lies inertly in the meadow, dropping down to one knee beside him. (Kneel - near on the ground -)
Ziyad sighs softly, shoulders slumping when it's clear that death has finally arrived after the long melee. He slowly lowers a masterful steel knife to his side. "I can't believe that this is finally over..." [in Sirdabi] he says, staring at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman.
A hunched, elder woman gets out a ball of 5 cotton threads from a wicker basket in her possession.
Ighlaf grimaces breathlessly, then turns their gaze around the clearing. Lingering for a time on Yasin. Eventually their gaze flits to a rangy mongrel and an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, then finally to a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair with a deepening frown. "Is...you said she stole the echoes." [in Ruvic] they ask you. "Is there anything to be done?" [in Ruvic]
Ziyad hunches slightly.
A thin layer of clouds spreads across the distant arc of the heavens, like ice skimming a night-black pond.
You have emoted: "She's dead," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass agrees, even from her distance. She shifts her gaze towards Ighlaf, then frowns over at a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair. "Well...." [in Sirdabi] she says, drawing out this word unencouragingly. "If he's dead, there isn't. If he isn't dead, he'll... probably recover?" [in Sirdabi]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes stares at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. She doesn't even flinch as a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses makes her pointed last remark. But something finally seems to rouse her from whatever reverie she had sunk into, for she stiffens momentarily. Then, achingly, she begins to step away and mutely stagger across the clearing toward a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair.
Yasin's gaze begins to sweep around the meadow, taking stock of everyone and everything. He looks poor, but he stumbles over to Ighlaf anyway. Hoarsely, he croaks out, "What did she do to him?" [in Ruvic] Gesturing to a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair.
You have emoted: Sassafrass A bewildered expression takes up residence on her face as she considers a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair. "I just... don't understand. She drained his echos, but... Nirzali's nipples." [in Sirdabi] She exhales softly through her nose. "How much echos did he *have*? I've never...." [in Sirdabi] Trailing off, she can only shake her head.
"Hopefully, it'll regenerate in time," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad suggests softly in response to Ighlaf's question, although he sounds slightly worried about your uncertainty. He nods to a small smoky crystal sphere and utters, "Someone should take that, so that we can return it. Is anyone else in need for stitches aside from Dunghill?" [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
Ighlaf continues to grimace at that answer, looking unsettled.
Blood seeps from a short gash on a rangy mongrel's stomach.
Yasin groans in pain, then says, "We n-need to treat him, right away." [in Ruvic]
A hunched, elder woman lifts a ball of 5 cotton threads as sort of an offer to anyone around before heading toward a rangy mongrel.
A hunched, elder woman goes to kneel on the ground, joining a large crowd.
Inaya looks herself over briefly and then does not make a reply to a hunched, elder woman. Apparently none of the spattered blood on her form is her own.
Yasin's eyes find a hunched, elder woman. "Firo," [in Ruvic] he calls out, his voice still hoarse. Then nods once she gets into action.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes shifts to stand near the general area.
A hunched, elder woman gets out a curved suturing needle from a wicker basket in her possession.
By a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair's side, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses partly raises him up in her arms, very gently. She touches her fingers lightly to his throat, just beneath the curve of his jaw, and waits a long moment. But finally her head simply sags down.. in relief, it seems, rather than grief.
A hunched, elder woman wordlessly gets to work on a rangy mongrel. Her movements are methodical and gaze is distant.
A hunched, elder woman starts to take a bleach-white wool kaftan from a rangy mongrel.
Yasin's eyes flit to Ighlaf afterwards, and he then takes stock of everyone else. He watches as a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses takes stock of a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair, and croaks, "Good." [in Ruvic]
Ighlaf looks back at Yasin, then their gaze is drawn to a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses. They breath a sigh out.
This must mean a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair isn't dead after all... quite, anyway. He looks absolutely ghastly, though, deathly pale beneath the almond of his complexion, cheeks hollow. Somehow, too, he looks simply... diminished, as if there simply weren't as much of him to fill the space he normally does.
A sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair wavers, and then his eyes roll up in his head as he goes limp.
A rangy mongrel does not seem to resist a hunched, elder woman's appropriation of a bleach-white wool kaftan.
(Quietly): A hunched, elder woman shifts closer to a rangy mongrel.
A hunched, elder woman uses a curved suturing needle and a cotton thread to stitch a short gash on a rangy mongrel's stomach.
The light from the sky glimmers down through trailing wisps of cloud, as the soft calls of birds float down through the limpid air.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes comes to a halt near a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair and a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses - regarding the former's wan face for a long, expressionless moment before trailing her eyes up a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses's arm to regard the woman's own countenance. Her shoulders slump with an easing of tension at what she sees there.
A hunched, elder woman starts to take what's left of a tattered shemagh from a rangy mongrel.
A hunched, elder woman gets out a squat glass bottle with a bee painting from a wicker basket in her possession.
Perhaps it's for the best that a rangy mongrel doesn't immediately jerk back into consciousness the moment a hunched, elder woman touches him. Or maybe it can be taken as a bad sign. The dog is limp and unresistant, not so much as a flicker of strain appearing at his bruised, sweaty brow.
A hunched, elder woman uses honey from a squat glass bottle with a bee painting to treat a short gash on a rangy mongrel's stomach.
Yasin goes to speak, then just starts coughing. He holds his fist close to his chest, giving it a thump. Who knows if it helps. He remains lingering near Ighlaf, though his eyes sweep across the 'battlefield'.
A rangy mongrel does not seem to resist a hunched, elder woman's appropriation of what's left of a tattered shemagh.
Ziyad rubs a hand across his face and blinks several times. "I have more medical supplies on me if you need it, Sayyida Firo," [in Sirdabi] he offers tiredly.
You have emoted: Sassafrass regards a hunched, elder woman with marked dislike at her approach, but she allows her to do the work of putting a rangy mongrel back together. Maybe this means eventually he'll get up.
Ziyad bends down to wipe off a masterful steel knife on some moss. After a few passes, he seems satisfied enough to return it to a mahogany suede mizuda.
Ziyad puts a masterful steel knife in a mahogany suede mizuda.
"I do, too." [in Ruvic] Yasin offers hoarsely, far too late to likely be of use.
"This is all I can do for him unless you have bruise salve," [in Ruvic] a hunched, elder woman tells Ziyad. She's already repositioning a rangy mongrel's clothes, probably assuming the answer.
A hunched, elder woman begins trying to dress a rangy mongrel in a bleach-white wool kaftan.
Ziyad shakes his head glumly at a hunched, elder woman. "Unfortunately, that's one thing I don't have on hand." [in Sirdabi]
A hunched, elder woman finishes dressing a rangy mongrel in a bleach-white wool kaftan without any resistance.
Yasin's eyes do flit to a dashingly curved scimitar, bloody and discarded on the moss. But he doesn't reach for that. Instead, he reaches for a small smoky crystal sphere. He takes a spare cloth from his apron, really just a dirty rag, and uses it to grab a hold of the sphere.
A hunched, elder woman begins trying to dress a rangy mongrel in what's left of a tattered shemagh.
Yasin picks up a small smoky crystal sphere from the ground.
Yasin puts a small smoky crystal sphere in a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
After looking down at a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair for quite a long time while simply cradling his upper body in her arms, a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses slowly looks up and slides her gaze towards an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. She locks eyes with the other woman, cold crystal blue on gleaming copper.
A hunched, elder woman finishes dressing a rangy mongrel in what's left of a tattered shemagh without any resistance.
A hunched, elder woman's eyes lift to regard you. "I'm going to use the salts. Try to avoid puke or swings," [in Ruvic] she advises.
Ighlaf stands, watching a hunched, elder woman's efforts with a distant, distracted gaze. Their sight eventually drifts over others as they move or speak.
A hunched, elder woman brings some smelling salts up under a rangy mongrel's nose.
A rangy mongrel wrinkles his nose.
A rangy mongrel wakes up, lying on the ground.
Yasin almost reverently stows the sphere in his apron, before he looks to the others. His eyes fall on an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes in the wake of that gaze from a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses.
The light from the sky glimmers down through trailing wisps of cloud, touching the soft billows of grass with an opalescent glamour.
Ziyad shifts to stand near the general area.
"--gnh...fffuh..." [in Sirdabi] a rangy mongrel's head jerks back from the smelling salts and his eyes move wildly beneath their lids. All he knows for several moments is pain, and then - with apparent greater struggle than prior attempts - he manages to crack his eyes open.
(Quietly): Ziyad moves closer to Yasin and lifts a hand to lightly touch a shoulder. "We've finally avenged her," [in Sirdabi] he murmurs softly. "-You've- finally avenged her." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass looms her head directly above a rangy mongrel's face and tells him, "It's over. You missed everything!" [in Sirdabi] Everything after the really horrible bits, at least.
(Quietly): Yasin's eyes flit to Ziyad at the contact, tense in his shoulders, though he relaxes. A nod follows, slow, though there's no satisfaction or glee in Yasin's expression. If anything, he looks solemn, a little dazed. Though he does voice, "We did," [in Ruvic] very quietly.
Having completed the job of bringing something back to the land of horrible witches and fresh wounds, a hunched, elder woman pushes back to a stand with a grunt. She scans the crowd once more before packing away supplies. (Stand - within the general area -)
A hunched, elder woman puts a dark-stained glass phial in a wicker basket.
(Quietly): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes meets a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses's eyes quietly, swaying a little where she stands and turned partly away from the commotion surrounding the other injured. She opens her mouth. "... He needs..." [in Ruvic] But she peters off just as quickly as she started, a strange and inscrutable expression passing over her features then. Then she simply drops her gaze, and looks away over her shoulder to a rangy mongrel when he wakes with a wordless groan.
You have emoted: "What a bruul's bum!" [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass declares of a rangy mongrel, with a loud scoff. But the look on her face is pleased and maybe even a little relieved.
A hunched, elder woman puts a ball of 4 cotton threads in a wicker basket.
A hunched, elder woman puts a curved suturing needle in a wicker basket.
A hunched, elder woman puts a squat glass bottle with a bee painting in a wicker basket.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses struggles to rise.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses straightens to stand within the general area.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses visibly struggles to remain conscious.
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses picks a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair up and carries him in both her arms.
Ighlaf looks over towards a rangy mongrel's waking with a relieved look, then shifts to stand near Yasin and Ziyad.
Inaya departs.
(Quietly): Yasin watches that reaction from an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes with a faint curiosity, though if anything he seems a little dazed. He seems about to ask a question, but then a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses picks up the subject and maybe he thinks things are under control.
(Quietly): Ighlaf shifts closer to Yasin.
A rangy mongrel swallows thickly and makes his eyes focus on your veiled face through a pained grimace. It takes a second or two, but when what she's yapping at him finally resonates somewhere, and some of the strain on his face is soothed. "... Fuck you," [in Sirdabi] he replies, but it's spoken with incongruous peace.
As the soft calls of birds float down through the limpid air, light filters down through pale wreaths of cloud.
However battered she looks, this does nothing to prevent a lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses from scooping a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair up in her arms as if he weighed next to nothing. She stands there a moment, surveying the clearing with an inscrutable gaze, and then simply departs, limp prince in her arms.
(Hidden) Ighlaf leans to speak to Yasin, their shoulder brushing by. "To...-w-y from h-r-? For your wounds." [in Ruvic]
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses starts towards the southeastward direction. (Stand - near the southeastward direction -)
A lazy-eyed brava with short titian tresses walks southeast, carrying a sleek laughing-eyed nobleman with glossy dark hair in her arms.
The remnants of faded magic dissipate from the dead witch's form.
(Quietly): A rangy mongrel cranes his neck with a fresh wince to get a better look at who else is around. He catches a meaningful glance at an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, and is also just in time to see a not-so-healthy looking prince get carried off.
Ighlaf startles slightly, their gaze dropping downwards.
Yasin whispers something for a while, involving Ighlaf.
(Quietly): Yasin's eyes flit to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, blinking once, though he doesn't seem startled.
Ziyad shivers slightly as his gaze also shifts downwards towards the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "What should we do about..." [in Sirdabi] he starts to say before trailing off.
Ighlaf begins to scrutinize the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "Her...eyes are wrong." [in Ruvic]
"What do you mean?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin hoarsely asks Ighlaf, switching to Sirdabi. He looks to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, then back to Ighlaf.
"...Oh." [in Sirdabi] Yasin then says, as he scrutinizes the corpse. "What--" [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad nods to Ighlaf and utters a solemn, "Serpentfolk. That must be why they're called that." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass keaves off scoffing at a rangy mongrel to peer over at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "What's wrong with her eyes?" [in Sirdabi] she echoes.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes looks back to the ice-eyed swordswoman, spotting her lift the incapacitated prince regent, and watches the two depart without another word. Only then does she return her gaze to a rangy mongrel. Battered and grass-stained though she is, she is standing. She holds his gaze briefly... and nods.
Then, that moment broken, she looks to Ighlaf and Yasin, and manages to slowly make her way back to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman to examine whatever it is has grabbed the attention of others.
Ighlaf answers Yasin while nodding slowly to Ziyad "Slitted, like a snake." [in Sirdabi] somewhat answering you as well.
The light from the sky glimmers down through trailing wisps of cloud, as the soft calls of birds float down through the limpid air.
"They're not normal." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says simply, shaking his head, unable to look away now that his attention is fixed on those terrible, inhuman eyes. "You're right, Ziyad," [in Sirdabi] he offers, then coughs lightly, hunched somewhat. "Gh--- whatever the hell a serpent folk is." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel releases a more steady breath than those strained before it, and likewise severs eye contact with an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. Next is the effortful work of pulling himself upright. It doesn't look like much fun, pale and wan, sweating and shaking.
A rangy mongrel struggles to rise, but cannot.
A rangy mongrel's pupils keep losing focus.
A hunched, elder woman manages a mildly interested hum as she eyes the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. She makes her way over slowly... though she does not linger on looking at the slitted eyes.
Yasin takes a few steps over to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, though he ends up walking past it to grab a dashingly curved scimitar instead, which he begins to wipe clean. He is partially successful, but some of the blood lingers.
A rangy mongrel goes limp.
A hunched, elder woman takes a heavy woolen knapsack from the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman.
Yasin picks up a dashingly curved scimitar from the ground.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes examines the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman's face along with everyone else, then unsteadily begins to get down onto her knees. Safe to say it's more of a drop than a controlled movement, and she braces herself on the ground with both her hands. But then she begins to rifle through the corpse's possession, tugging at a pouch.
A hunched, elder woman opens the flap with wooden buttons of a heavy woolen knapsack.
Inaya arrives.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes drops to kneel on the ground.
A hunched, elder woman drops a heavy woolen knapsack on the ground.
A hunched, elder woman takes out a round leather canteen from a heavy woolen knapsack.
Yasin makes no move to rifle through the possessions of the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, leaving that to a hunched, elder woman and an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes takes a black cotton drawstring pouch from the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman.
A rangy mongrel gives it his very best shot but is ultimately overcome again, weakly falling back onto the dirt. There's a wave of frustration across him, but he's too weak even to maintain that. After wetting his lips, he tries to relay something to whomever can hear him, but.... nope. His eyes glass over and he's slipped back beneath the waves of consciousness again. It's deeper this time.
Yasin puts a dashingly curved scimitar in a beautiful brown leather back sheath.
A hunched, elder woman sniffs a round leather canteen.
A hunched, elder woman puts a round leather canteen in a heavy woolen knapsack.
Ziyad watches curiously, going as far as to crouch down to see what's in a heavy woolen knapsack, but avoids touching anything. "Hopefully, she's not carrying anything cursed. Best be very careful if anything odd shows up." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf has their attention drawn to a rangy mongrel, then they speak to Yasin, "I think you may be best able to help him back to..somewhere." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel visibly sinks into an even deeper sleep, dead to the world.
"Nothing cursed," [in Sirdabi] a hunched, elder woman decides. She looks up to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, as if confirming that statement.
"...I can." [in Sirdabi] Yasin offers to Ighlaf, voice still hoarse. "If he'll tolerate me touching him." [in Sirdabi] He looks to you of all around, a question in his eyes. "Should I?" [in Sirdabi]
A vaporous haze of clouds veils the night sky.
Ighlaf gestures around the clearing. "Better anywhere but here." [in Sirdabi] but then their gaze also settles on you.
Ziyad follows Ighlaf's gesture with his eyes and nods firmly. There's a visible shiver from him when he catches sight of a circle of dark-hued stone. He reflexively retreats another two steps further away from the stones.
You have emoted: Sassafrass appears to muse over the odd information regarding the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman for a time, sitting there thoughtfully by a rangy mongrel's intractably unconscious form. "Interesting," [in Sirdabi] she murmurs, and looks over at the stones, then up to the sky.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes rifles fearlessly - or numbly - through a black cotton drawstring pouch's contents, procuring several reddish lozenges, a lump of frankincense, and a lump of myrrh in the palm of her hand.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gets out a handful of 7 innocuous reddish lozenges from a black cotton drawstring pouch in her possession.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gets out a yellow lump of frankincense from a black cotton drawstring pouch in her possession.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes gets out a pebbly lump of myrrh from a black cotton drawstring pouch in her possession.
A hunched, elder woman reaches out and touches a circle of dark-hued stone.
"And wh-what do we do with her?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin says with some effort involved in speaking, looking to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "Bury her, or leave her?" [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf shifts their jaw back and forth for a time. "I think as for what to do, we...allow Demetrius to decide, perhaps." [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad inhales sharply when he sees a hunched, elder woman reach for one of the stones. "Be careful, Sayyida Firo." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf looks towards Yasin as they speak over one another, "As...proof for the Mistwatch in some form, or as the one being targeted by her." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass turns her gaze back to the earth, and the sword-studded corpse sprawled out there. "Burn it," [in Sirdabi] is her decision, which she pronounces with a firm nod. "Where she lies." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf quiets as they listen to you.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes seems undisturbed when she touches all of these contents, so, indirectly, she answers a hunched, elder woman's question in the affirmative. Nothing cursed - at least not apparently. She pours everything back into the pouch and grips it tightly as she attempts to stand. "He looked as if he were on death's doorstep," [in Sirdabi] she begins to tell Ighlaf - but your words give her pause, and she looks over to her.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes puts a handful of 7 innocuous reddish lozenges in a black cotton drawstring pouch.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes puts a pebbly lump of myrrh in a black cotton drawstring pouch.
Yasin's eyes flit to Ziyad at his warning to a hunched, elder woman, but he's distracted by Ighlaf and then you.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes puts a yellow lump of frankincense in a black cotton drawstring pouch.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes struggles to rise, but cannot.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes visibly struggles to remain conscious.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns over an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, looking irked and puzzled at once. "Who in the Dream is Demetrius?" [in Sirdabi] She really is out of touch.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns over Ighlaf, looking irked and puzzled at once. "Who in the Dream is Demetrius?" [in Sirdabi] She really is out of touch. (targeting!).
A hunched, elder woman passingly brushes a hand over a circle of dark-hued stone. She advises an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, "Don't eat the lozenges," [in Sirdabi] in what appears to be parting words. With that, she's heading off.
A hunched, elder woman starts towards the southeastward direction. (Stand - near the southeastward direction -)
"The Prince." [in Sirdabi] Yasin clarifies to you, before giving a concerned look an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's way. "The Prince Regent." [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad seems relieved when a hunched, elder woman starts tottering off. He watches for a moment longer before he turns his gaze on you. "And the man who's echos was drained." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin's eyes follow a hunched, elder woman at her departure. They narrow, and he lets out a shaky breath.
A hunched, elder woman walks southeast, hobbling along quickly, wielding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is... unsuccessful in her attempt. She looks away with a dizzy frown, scrunching her eyes shut as the act of trying to stand seems to cause the blood to pool dangerously close to her feet instead of her head.
Wisps of distant clouds pale the black blanket of constellations.
You have emoted: "Oh." [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass frowns a bit at this information, glancing off in the direction in which the unfortunate fellow was carried. ".. Is he a mage?" [in Sirdabi] she half-wonders, half-asks.
Ighlaf answers you, "The one she stole all the...echos as you called it." [in Sirdabi] then a concerned gaze settles on an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes and they quietly murmur. "He...did not look well, no." [in Sirdabi] then they ask, "Can I help you?" [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad shakes his head sharply at your question. "He does not believe in magic at all. Although after his encounter with the witch and all this, I assume his mind was changed..." [in Sirdabi] He makes a vague gesture to encompass the entire area with its stones, and with the ground scuffed up by combat.
"I think he's probably a lot of things." [in Sirdabi] Yasin supposes to you. He looks back to the battlefield, then watches as Ighlaf looks after an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's complexion grows ashen for a few moments before the color seems to return to her face. She looks up to Ighlaf then. "Yes," [in Sirdabi] she agrees begrudgingly after a moment. "I think I will need it." [in Sirdabi] She glances askance to Yasin, Ziyad, and you at the discussion, but says nothing of the matter - instead flitting her eyes back to Ighlaf as she holds out a hand for assistance.
You have emoted: Sassafrass tilts her head slightly, as if trying to sort the pieces of a particularly vexing puzzle. "He's not a mage, and doesn't even *believe* in magic, yet... he has more echos than a hundred normal people?" [in Sirdabi] She shakes her head, slowly. "Had," [in Sirdabi] she revises, after a moment. "I suppose it'll build back up again, if he survives the shock of having it all yanked out." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf pulls an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes up to stand nearby.
(Quietly): Ighlaf reaches out a hand to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, carefully bracing to lift upwards.
Yasin takes in a strained breath, though he listens curiously to you. He asks Ighlaf and an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, "I can aid, if aid is--" [in Sirdabi] Another small cough. "--Needed." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf standing with a supporting arm for an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. (Room Pose Set)
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes uses Ighlaf as leverage as she pushes herself up from the ground - though not before grabbing at her own jambiya on the way up. Certainly retrieving it after the fact would have been an issue. "Thank you," [in Sirdabi] she murmurs to them, once she is standing and braced on her own two feet. But then she looks to you with a frown. "Echoes," [in Sirdabi] she echoes dully, very behind on the conversation.
(Quietly): You have emoted: "Oof," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass murmurs softly. "It must have felt... bad." [in Sirdabi] Her expression seems to suggest that 'bad' doesn't even cover it, but that since any other word would be equally inadequate, it's of no matter.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes picks up a bronze-handled jambiya from the ground.
Celestial light filters through layers of high cloud cover, turning the sky a hazy midnight blue.
Ighlaf murmurs to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, "You are welcome." [in Sirdabi] then a belated, "Thank you." [in Sirdabi] to Yasin. Their gaze flitters to you and they wince.
"What are the chances you think he'll recover?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks you, though he now walks over to grab a heavy woolen knapsack, hefting it up with a groan.
Yasin picks up a heavy woolen knapsack from the ground.
You have emoted: Sassafrass repeats to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes with subtle variation, "Echos." [in Sirdabi] The 's' is a soft one, and the overall sound more like 'ay-kos'. "It's the essence inside everything that resonates with the Song." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya departs.
Inaya arrives.
Ighlaf murmurs to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, "Where would you like to go?" [in Sirdabi] offering their support for any walking. Their attention is still lingering on you speaking.
Ziyad wraps his arms around himself to stop a visible shudder. "Having all of that yanked from him at once... Is there really nothing we can do to help him?" [in Sirdabi]
Inaya flicks a look across to you for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, but she stays as silent as ever.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns back to Yasin, consideringly. "I don't know. Having your echos drained somehow is never good at the best of times -- it's not quite a vital essence, but it's very close." [in Sirdabi] She purses her lips, glancing absently over at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "I assume that when you have that much of it, and it's all pulled out at once, that's even more traumatic." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf looks intent as they listen to Ziyad's question and the answers.
Yasin aims a grim look back to you at that answer. Another breath in and then out, and he sets his jaw and looks southeast a moment, as though trying to catch an (impossible) glimpse of the Prince from here. He shakes his head. Voice still muted and hoarse, he murmurs, "Then he may be unwell for... quite some time." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass lets out a speculative breath. "In the end, it depends on his will, I suppose. If he wants to live, hopefully he will." [in Sirdabi] She shrugs a bit, then says matter-of-factly, "So I suppose we'll just see." [in Sirdabi]
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
You say, "Or hear, at least. I doubt we're going to be traipsing in and out of... whatever grand place he's staying, to check up on his state of mind and health." [in Sirdabi]
Ziyad bows his head in acknowledgement. For some reason, he flashes a brief and worried look in an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes's direction.
Soft layers of clouds drape the night, creamy pale and opalescent in the moonlight.
[The Westwood, Small Meadow, Old Stone Circle]
Tall column-like stones, their weathered surfaces an odd dark hue, grow a patchy blanket of lichens and mosses where they stand planted in a circle between the low hillocks of grass. Despite their overall arrangement, the monolithic boulders still appear almost haphazardly placed, slanting and rough-edged like crooked teeth. In the darkness of the night, shadows cloak the stone circle in a still darker tension.
A light steel rapier stands upright, thrust through the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman's lifeless chest. Here is the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman has breathed her last..
a rangy mongrel sleeps here.
Also here is Ziyad. An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is standing here, holding a black cotton drawstring pouch and a bronze-handled jambiya in her right hand. Yasin is standing here, holding a heavy woolen knapsack in his right hand. Ighlaf standing with a supporting arm for an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, wielding a small utilitarian knife in her right hand. Inaya is standing here, wielding a battered scimitar in her right hand.
Clouds streak distantly across the face of the stars. The area is speckled lightly with blood.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and southeast
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes stares at you for a long moment, as if concentrating on what she says with the uncertainty of a lagging student. "...But he -can- recover," [in Sirdabi] she says at the heels of her words, a question as much as a statement. "He -can-." [in Sirdabi] Then, to Ighlaf, upon whom she is still depending on to be upright, she says with a hint of pain, "I... I have to think," [in Sirdabi] she says.
"She drains a thing. Where does it go, when she dies, then?" [in Sirdabi with a hoarsely broken, half-whispered contralto] Inaya breaks her silence - and her voice, cracking pathetically - finally, though to whom it's directed might be unclear. She's just staring at the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman.
You have emoted: Sassafrass flits her gaze over to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. "He -can-," [in Sirdabi] she agrees, though in a tone of reservation. "I mean, probably. I've never read about a situation like this before." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya ticks a look to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes now, staying silent once more, features impassive but watchful.
Yasin's jaw shifts again at your answer, but he gives a nod of his head. His eyes hang on an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes at her words.
Ighlaf bites their cheek as they are listening. "I...think him fair stubborn." [in Sirdabi] although their tone is troubled. They nod slowly to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. "However long you need." [in Sirdabi]
"That man's will is the strongest I may have seen." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says quietly, though in what is probably meant to be reassurance to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. "If that is what he needs, then I think a very good chance he will recover." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass shrugs at Inaya. "I think she used a fair amount of it. But..." [in Sirdabi] She furrows her brow. "Well, if she *didn't* use all of it, then it's even more terrifying to think the amount of echos that man had." [in Sirdabi]
Well, thinking takes a back burner. An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes looks to you. "What - there are books on... these echoes?" [in Sirdabi] She stubbornly seems to pronounce them in her own, standard way. Echoes, reverberations of sound.
A rangy mongrel's frame involuntarily slackens.
Inaya tongues at the inside of her cheek, eyes ticking to you now and holding there for a long few moments. She makes no reply but for a very faint nod, almost imperceptible, and then goes back to watching the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, her scimitar still in a ready grip, seeming very much as though she expects the thing to get up again at any moment.
You have emoted: "AY-KOS!" [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass emphasizes, soundly vaguely irked that someone should persist in such egregious mispronunciation of standard magical terminology. "Yes, there are book," [in Sirdabi] she replies. "Of course there are. People who study magic learn about it." [in Sirdabi] She pauses. "There are other books, too. Rarer ones. Books for everything...." [in Sirdabi] But then she looks deeply pained, and looks back over to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman.
Soft layers of clouds drape the night, creamy pale and opalescent in the moonlight.
Ighlaf lets out a slow, slow breath. Their gaze flits to you. "She said she sent the books somewhen. Perhaps they will arrive with her..." [in Sirdabi] they trail off. They refocus after a moment. "You recommend we burn?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin's eyes fall to each speaker in turn, quiet for a moment, maybe waiting. There's an exhausted look to him that seems to be creeping over his features in addition to the pained expression he seems to take on every breath. But at your trailing off, it is more a look of sympathy, or maybe apology, in his eyes.
Yasin gets out an wrought iron camp lantern from a heavy woolen knapsack in his possession.
"You know, about Halima, already?" [in Sirdabi] Inaya asks now, flicking a look toward a rangy mongrel, and then Ighlaf, one brow quirking in question.
Yasin gives a nod of his head twice to Ighlaf, at both points. He procures an wrought iron camp lantern from his pack. "We--" [in Sirdabi] But Inaya's question catches him off guard. "What?" [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass remains silent for a time, subdued in expression and the way her shoulders suddenly slump. "She should be burned," [in Sirdabi] she finally agrees with Ighlaf, quietly.
Ziyad turns sharply to Inaya. "What? What happened to Sayyida Tifour?" [in Sirdabi] he asks, just as caught off guard as Yasin.
Ighlaf looks confused at Inaya's words. "I am not aware, no." [in Sirdabi] then a grim expression is settled on you and they slowly nod.
"She is cursed. By one of the books. She has it," [in Sirdabi] Inaya rasps, simple and blunt, shrugging.
"Echos," [in Sirdabi] an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes utters with a squeezing shut of her eyes, as if it cost her something to relent to your correction. But she opens her eyes again and looks to Inaya, her face growing suddenly serious. She, too, does not seem to understand what Inaya is speaking of.
You have emoted: "She was touched by.. something holy, in that concoction," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass says, sounding weary now. "I don't think anything... worse will happen with her body, after that, but it's best to be safe." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf puts a small utilitarian knife in a rugged zharalhide mizuda.
You have emoted: Sassafrass flickers a glance back to Inaya, then blinks sharply. "What? *Recently*?" [in Sirdabi]
Inaya nods to you. "After I saw you last," [in Sirdabi] she rasps. "She said the book was delivered to her. I do not know who did this. She thought the curse was only on the book, until I asked if she could read other things also. Then she took a new job, at the herbalist." [in Sirdabi]
The stars are faint in the night sky, veiled from the gaze of the earth by a thin film of clouds.
Ighlaf sighs out, their free hand lifting to rub at their forehead looking pained. "Then...we look still to find a cure." [in Sirdabi] then they slowly nod to you. They call out, "We gather branches, then. Or firewood from the hearth." [in Sirdabi] their gaze looking near but not at the still body in the clearing.
Ighlaf answers Inaya, "This witch delivered the book." [in Sirdabi] their tone quiet and grim. "She only told us she sent it to someone from our ship." [in Sirdabi]
"So Sayyida Tifour's now also cursed with the inability to decipher the written word?" [in Sirdabi] Ziyad asks for clarification. He scrubs at his face with the heel of his palm. "This isn't good at all. I hope that we'll be able to make it home and find someone to help there." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin looks more than disturbed at Inaya's commentary, and he sighs out. "She," [in Sirdabi] he points to the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, "Did this to her. Elina 'sent' the books magically to one of us, she said." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: A look of disbelief takes hold of Sassafrass's face, and then, more painfully, hope. "They're... they're really still here? I thought.. I thought she'd really just destroyed them..." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods to Ziyad as well, and Ighlaf. "We can use the pitch from this," [in Sirdabi] he offers as well, showing an wrought iron camp lantern.
Yasin closes the flap with wooden buttons of a heavy woolen knapsack.
Yasin puts a heavy woolen knapsack in an impeccable brown buckskin backpack.
Yasin places an wrought iron camp lantern on the ground.
Ighlaf looks intently to you and asks, "How many books are there? If Halima only has one, the others may be elsewhere." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya curls her upper lip just slightly at Ighlaf's and Ziyad's words, nodding. But to Yasin and you, she grunts, "She said she has only one, I think. I saw only one." [in Sirdabi] She shrugs.
"I will gather branches." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, his jaw set once more as though filled with new tension at this new revelation, not seeming as hopeful as you.
Yasin starts towards the southeastward direction. (Stand - near the southeastward direction -)
Ighlaf gives a slow nod to Yasin, their arm still bracing an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes during the speaking.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes looks to you. Then to the corpse. Her expression is subdued amid all this discussion, and she only sheaths her blade before glancing up to Yasin. She nods once. "Thank you. Though--" [in Sirdabi] Her eyes turn to a light steel rapier thrust through the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. "We should perhaps return that blade to its owner, if they will have it." [in Sirdabi]
"Only one," [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, pausing before he is out of earshot. "...So she will curse others then, too. Many, possibly." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin does look back to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, then a light steel rapier. He sighs. "It looks a finely made blade, sayyida. But I think the owner of it made their choice when *that* is where they set it." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya shrugs to Yasin. "Maybe only I did not understand. You should ask her, I think," [in Sirdabi] she says, not just to him.
"So the rest of the books might be -anywhere- and sent to -anyone-. Few will understand the danger," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad states grimly. He grimaces and continues, "Even I might not be suspicious and read a book that shows up without first considering it's one of the cursed books." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass shakes her head slowly. "I'm not sure just how many. Several. A dozen, probably, altogether. Even if we can't recover all of them..." [in Sirdabi] Her face contorts in a brief grimace. "Which we can't, since that idiot woman burned one of them... But even the others can... hopefully... help decipher the workings of the hex." [in Sirdabi]
The stars are faint in the night sky, veiled from the gaze of the earth by a thin film of clouds.
"We should talk to Halima," [in Sirdabi] Yasin concludes as he walks off. "If you think Marcella wishes for the blade," [in Sirdabi] looking to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, "Then... we can... retrieve it." [in Sirdabi]
"When I see her, should I tell her to return it to you?" [in Sirdabi] Inaya asks you now, plainly, though her voice is hoarse as ever.
You have emoted: "YES!" [in Sirdabi] is Sassafrass's emphatic answer to Inaya's question. She purses her lips, then puffs out a sharp breath through them.
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes smiles faintly at Yasin's reply. It's a quietly humored one. "... No. I think you are right," [in Sirdabi] she agrees quietly. "She would not have left it, had she not been willing to part with it." [in Sirdabi] Then the smile fades as she listens to you.
You straighten to stand within the general area.
Yasin walks southeast, very tensely.
Inaya tips her head in a rather formal nod, almost half a bow, to you at this, an obvious acceptance.
You pick a rangy mongrel up and carry him in both your arms.
You have emoted: Then, with no further announcement, Sassafrass returns over to a rangy mongrel, yanks him up in both arms none too gently, and states, "Now, it is my turn to haul this sad sack of a fellow about. I'm sure he doesn't want to stay here." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya watches you haul a rangy mongrel up, lips pursing slightly, but she makes no apparent objection to the stated intentions.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns faintly then, and looks around at everyone. "Does he have anywhere he prefers to be better than in his room?" [in Sirdabi]
"He'll need plenty of rest and care after the injury that he took," [in Sirdabi] Ziyad agrees, dipping his head respectfully towards a rangy mongrel. "We can stay here and ensure that the witch's remains are burned." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin walks over from the southeast, with heavy footfalls.
"I do not know, sayyida," [in Sirdabi] Inaya rasps quietly to you, eyeing a rangy mongrel for a few moments.
Ighlaf listens quiet and wordless for a time, a frown forming. They glance to your arms. They agree then murmur, "Perhaps his tent, but he likely isn't moving far for a while or managing the climb." [in Sirdabi]
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes flickers a small smile to you as she manhandles a rangy mongrel. But to her question, she shakes her head. "... He ought best to recover where there are walls and a bed, I should think. Even if he insists on sleeping upon the floor." [in Sirdabi] She glances to Ighlaf, then inclines her head just slightly.
The stars remain only dimly glimpsed as the night sky holds fast its veil of clouds.
Yasin returns, holding a pile of firewood in his arms. A brow upturns briefly as he sees you carrying a rangy mongrel. "I agree," [in Sirdabi] he says, even though no one asked his opinion. "At least if he needs some help, he'll be closer." [in Sirdabi] Fondly, though, and with a little smile, he says, "...Not that he'll accept it." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass scoffs somewhat at the idea of care, though she does look a rangy mongrel over with a careful eye. "Hm. Very well, then. Back to his room for him." [in Sirdabi]
Ighlaf nods to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes then says with a tinge of amusement, "I think he will complain wherever you place him. May as well be the room." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin then proceeds to set the firewood down near the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman, kneeling, and beginning to build a sort of pyre. Grim work.
Yasin drops to kneel on the ground.
Yasin places a pile of 5 bundle of firewoods on the ground.
Ighlaf flickers a smile to Yasin, although it drifts at the sight of the firewood.
"Do you need help to bring him?" [in Sirdabi] Inaya asks you more quietly.
Yasin is kneeling here, making a sort of pyre with which to burn the fresh corpse of a poised middle-aged woman. (Room Pose Set)
You have emoted: "Yes, that seems likely enough," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass tells Ighlaf. Then there's one look back around at the clearing, the corpse, the silent stone circle, the survivors. "I'll keep staying there too for a bit, I suppose. If you need me." [in Sirdabi] And with that, she heads off with her tatty burden of rags.
Sassafrass starts towards the southeastward direction. (Stand - near the southeastward direction -)
You have emoted: The answer to Inaya's question must be a no! For a small and half-starved as she looks, Sassafrass must have a surprising reserve of strength.
(At the general area): An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes quietly allows Ighlaf back the use of their own body for something other than propping this woman upright. "Thank you," [in Sirdabi] she tells them, though her eyes are directed to Yasin on the ground. Grim work, indeed.
You walk southeast, carrying a rangy mongrel in your arms.