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Arodus 16, 4715
Armasse did not properly begin until noon, but the people of Kenabres knew that good times could pass suddenly and did not much stand on ceremony. Almost since First Crusader Day, more than a week passed, the city had slowly come to life. Wooden shields, many bearing Iomedae's sign, appeared in shop windows and over doors. Now and then the signs of other righteous gods and empyreal lords joined them. Many bore fresh coats of paint, but a few hung in positions of pride: full sized shields once carried into battle proudly bearing their wear and scars. The arms of Mendev hung from banners on nearly every street corner, and in tremendous expanses of fine Tian silk from the high walls of the Kite in the distance and the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell, which dominates the plaza that shares the saint's name.
All Kenabres seemed pressed into that space, people of all races and decent faiths shoulder to shoulder and sharing breath. Laughing, bright faced children darted about holding, and often wearing, candies in the shapes of swords and shields. They cavorted about, jousting in one moment, locked in mortal combat with a demon the next. Now and then one insisted on playing a great wizard or priest, bringing cries of cheating and furious, brief arguments about whether one had to have a proper wand or staff.
Older youths slipped away to less crowded places in ones and twos, occasionally more. Now and then one of the plaza's bushes made an oddly human noise that, for this day, most adults blamed on the absent breeze. Others stood nervously about, often in small groups, awkward in new arms and armor and waiting to say their oaths. Many clustered around harried priests and priestesses in shining armor to hear brief words of encouragement. Still more went on the heels of members of this sworn brotherhood, that band of sisters in arms.
Hawkers moved through the crowd almost as swiftly as the children, shouting their wares. Many sold food, but others declaimed for charms, favors, and amulets. Several gnomes moved about offering bright ribbons, sure to please that special someone. Daringly-dressed men and women made their way through the crowd with the rest, shouting with their bodies instead of voices. Now and then someone would draw near and they, like the youths, would vanish down an alley or under bushes. Even a few scribes worked the crowd, scribbling down commissions for letters to distant lovers and family.
Entertainers of other sorts plied the crowd as well: fools in motley pretended to joust. Acrobats in far less clothing than Kenabres normally considered decent leaped and contorted themselves in small spaces ringed by spectators. Dozens of minstrels, of wildly varying talent, dueled with the din and each other.
As the noon hour drew near, you had the good fortune to make your way to a spot near the cathedral. The white stone fairly gleamed under the labors of the faithful, who had scrubbed them tirelessly for days to remove a year's filth. A collection of dignitaries gathered upon the pale expanse, ringed by numerous guards. Commander Ashus Striegher of the Order of the Sunrise Sword frowned at the crowd and stood apart, standing stiff in his battle-scarred armor. He shot dour looks in the direction of Kurt the Fair of the Sacred Band of the Rose, who held his "thorn" a glaive seven feet tall, in one hand and waved cheerfully to the revelers. The red enamel of his armor bore not so much as a shadow, let alone a chip, and its brass filigree curled about him in the shape of vines. Irabeth Tirablade of the Eagle Watch, stood an uneasy distance from Prelate Hulrun. The half-orc wore gleaming plate and shared a kiss with a young woman in leathers, ignoring the prelate entirely. He in turn pretended to stand alone on the cathedral steps, save when he spoke quietly to his stone-faced deputy Liotr Hawkblade. At several points he gestured sharply to someone in the crowd and Liotr stepped quietly away to speak to guards.
The doors of the great cathedral, huge cold iron slabs bearing sword-shaped rivets and painted brilliant silver, swung open and people stirred in the dimness within. The official opening of the festival could be only minutes away.
Korina quietly bit into an apple, glancing towards the Prelate before looking away again. She'd had... a few too many experiences with the of the more zealous crusaders' idea of 'justice' to appreciate them. Even when test after test had failed to find evil, they assumed - they always assumed - she was still somehow wicked. When even Paladins began to make assumptions (despite the source of their power), you had to wonder how 'good' they truly are.
Still, it was a festival - she might as well enjoy herself.
Saito moved through the crowd, a young man with a tall lithe frame and a soft face, taking off a few layers of his cold weather clothes in the heat of the crowd but leaving his massive greatsword strapped across his back.
His desire to spill the blood of demons is great but even he can take a break here and there to enjoy himself.
"Two please." He asks a passing vendor who is selling fried pastries, the vendor looks very please when Saito overpays by handing the him an entire gold piece.
A child being chased by another in play crashes into Saito when looking over her shoulder at her pursuer and not paying attention to where she is going. She falls on her butt and her candy sword breaks in half at the impact. She looks up in fear as the warrior with his huge sword turns to look at her.
Saito simply smiles and flips her a gold coin as well.
"It seems your sword has broken, apologies, buy yourself a few more." He says.
The child looks wide eyed at the coin and scampers off, happy.
Seeing a handsome man who seems rather free with his gold a scantily clad woman with dusky skin and a beautiful body approaches Saito, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his head towards her.
"Like what you see?" she asks, using her other hand to gesture to her body.
"Uh, no thanks Ma'am." Saito responds, then lifts up his second pastry to show her it. "Hungry?"
The woman arcs an eyebrow but takes the pastry anyway, figuring she might as well get something out of the exchange.
Saito shrugs and takes a big bite of his pastry.
Walking around with his pastry held in his mouth Saito wanders a bit before accidentally tripping over another darting child.
He stumbles into Korina before righting himself and issues a hasty muffled apology through the fried doughnut.
Korina turned to look at the man - a... figther, by his build? Hmm, all right - as he bumped into her, and her blood-hued eyes stared at him without blinking for longer than was strictly necessary. She turned away a moment later, then began walking forward as she continued eating her fruit. She didn't seem terribly interested in people so caught up in the festivities that they kept hitting other people.
"Mmmmmmmmmmph." Saito says to himself speculatively as Korina walks away. He chews on the pastry in his mouth without using his hands, a rare talent.
Continuing on towards the Cathedral, his head turning only once to watch a handsome man as scantly clad as the woman he met earlier walk by, Saito arrives to see the worthies gathered there.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm." He says as he looks upon them, before swallowing the last bite of pastry.
Steave walked around the celebrations in full kit. Even after several months in this time, his war routine was too hard to shake. Kenebras had never felt so secure as it did today with all of the decorations and revelers. It reminded him of Andoran festivals of his youth.
Steave stands tall and unwavering with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He dresses as a simple crusader in veteran heavy leather gauntlets and breeches, sturdy leather boots, heavy gray woolen overtunic covering a breastplate. He wears a backpack that sits in the small of his back above a leather pocket-filled belt holstering a longsword. He stows his heavy wooden circular shield on a harness in the middle of his shoulder blades. His gray woolen hooded cloak is secured to the outside of his backpack.
Yridhrennor laughs at the antics of the motley-clad fools. Armasse was his favorite time of year! The revelry and excitement, the feats of strength, the daring! It was like those stories he had read as a child.
"It's just like those fairy tales you read before going to sleep." A raven guffaws as it swirls in the air and lands on his shoulder.
"They're not fairy stories, Falfaeren, they're histories." Yridhrennor mutters.
"The Blessed Island of Sahu... There is no such place! It's fiction, thus fairy stories!" The bird stamps a foot on the elf's shoulder and puffs his feathers.
"Sahu was an island nation, a veritable paradise, by all accounts. The people were happy and educated, blessed by a verdant tropical climate teeming with life, and powerful necromancer kings."
"And, where is this Sahu now? Hunh? Has anyone ever seen it? The bird pecks Yridhrennor on the nose when the elf begins to speak. "Outside of your precious books."
"Well, uh.. that is.. um... no. I mean.. not within living memory--an elf's memory, that is." Yridhrennor gives the raven a sheepish look. Then, he brightens. "But, no one's ever actually seen Azlant, either. Not anyone currently alive. And, it's real. Or was. Either way just because it's only been recorded in histories doesn't mean it's only a myth."
The raven ruffles his feathers, clearly upset at having lost the debate, and begins to preen himself. Yridhrennor shakes his head and keeps walking. Armasse! Every time he saw it, it was with fresh eyes. Humans were so astounding that they could make old traditions new with each passing year! Why, this year alone, the dancers were completely different--with new routines and motley! The singers as well... He blushes and slows his steps near a troupe of bards performing a most indecent song about a paladin and the special love he felt for his lady love, his sword, and his valiant steed--all of which seemed to be named some form of Mirabelle. It's quite bawdy, and he isn't sure about some of the mechanics of the details, but the singers do paint an entertaining picture. Yridhrennor doesn't approve of such things himself, Uncle would never tolerate such 'low art' as these camp songs. And, there's something quite irreverent about the song. Especially on a day celebrating the efforts of people like poor, confused (very confused) Sir Thawndryn. But, even the other crusaders are laughing and slapping each other on the back at the paladin's antics. So, it can't be quite so bad. Can it?
Humans are very strange. Levity is showing respect. But, so is solemnity. He'll never understand humans. Uncle says there's no point because humans are too-short lived. Does a mountain try to understand the grass? But, Yridhrennor can't help but be fascinated by them.
His footsteps guide him through the throng, until he stands at the Cathedral steps waiting the beginnings of the ceremony.
Realizing he seems to be getting bumped into a lot Saito cast a spell of protection on himself to prevent bruising before looking for an additional food vendor to bug.
** spoiler omitted **
Realizing he seems to be getting bumped into a lot Saito cast a spell of protection on himself before looking for an additional food vendor to bug.
Several people took quick steps away from Saito when they heard his spell, one jostling a grizzled halfling crusader who swore at him in return. For a tense moment the two crusaders glared at one another, but then a bearded half-orc drew the halfling away.
Saito spotted a bent, silver-haired woman with a large basket stuffed with candies wrapped in small bits of white cloth, handing them over with kind words to many children.
Saito considers that maybe he shouldn't cast spells in public here, especially because of his demonic heritage. It would be inconvenient to die an inconsequential death at the hands of annoyed people who he is trying to ally with.
Saito spots the woman and approaches. "Don't know if I am young enough for candy, But I do very much enjoy it." He tells her.
Saito considers that maybe he shouldn't cast spells in public here, especially because of his demonic heritage. It would be inconvenient to die an inconsequential death at the hands of annoyed people who he is trying to ally with.
Saito spots the woman and approaches. "Don't know if I am young enough for candy, But I do very much enjoy it." He tells her.
The woman looked up at him and smiled. She had rather less than the full complement of teeth.
"Oh, aren't you a darling one!" she said merrily. "Old Levvie never turns a hungry boy away."
She reached into her basket and pulled out one of her bundles.
Yridhrennor marvels at the display of strength and honor between the two crusaders, and that the halfling seems to be so stalwart (and that the half-orc was the voice of reason in that contest of wills).
"Astounding!" Yridhrennor is about to turn back to the awaiting ceremony when Falfaeren pulls on his ear.
"Oo! Piece of candy!"
"No. You had a rat before we left."
Falfaeren pulls on his ear again. "But it was rotten!"
"You're a raven, you like rotten meat." He winces as the raven pulls again. "Fine.. fine... I'll give you a piece of candy. One. Only. You know, you're going to grow fat." Yridhrennor sighs and walks over to the silver haired woman. "Hello! May I purchase three, please?"
"Now, who's going to be fat!"
"Hush, you." He turns to Saito and smiles. "Hello! A fellow candy-lover?"
"Fat!! Falfaeren caws from his shoulder.
The woman looked up at him and smiled. She had rather less than the full complement of teeth.
"Oh, aren't you a darling one!" she said merrily. "Old Levvie never turns a hungry boy away."
She reached into her basket and pulled out one of her bundles.
"Thank you kindly, Levvie." Saito says, taking the bundle and opening it to see what specific treat is inside. "You are as generous as you are beautiful, how old are you? Nineteen?" Saito flatters.
"Thank you kindly, Levvie." Saito says, taking the bundle and opening it to see what specific treat is inside. "You are as generous as you are beautiful, how old are you? Nineteen?" Saito flatters.
Saito found a shield in Mendev's colors within the bundle, about as long as two knuckles' worth of his finger.
"Old enough to know flattery when I see it," Levvie smiled.
She turned to Yridhrennor, "And of course you may have three." Levvie counted out three sweets aloud, and wagged a bony finger at the elf's raven, "But you need to watch your manners."
"Hush, you." He turns to Saito and smiles. "Hello! A fellow candy-lover?"
Saito smiles back. "Absolutely. Nice bird, a friend of yours?"
The crowd is loud and busy, as many people as his whole village. But the noise inside him gets louder to match. The people seem happy, laughing. The sound makes him wince - the last laughing he heard was accompanied by the smell of his own burning flesh. He winces and grabs his bandaged hand. As he walks past the vendors, an item occasionally slips off the shelf, bouncing a surprising distance away.
He would leave, but he knew that the demonslayers of the cathedral would talk soon. They had faced the evil and he needed to learn from them. He finds a space where he can see them and leans against the wall.
Saito found a shield in Mendev's colors within the bundle, about as long as two knuckles' worth of his finger.
"Old enough to know flattery when I see it," Levvie smiled.
Saito chuckles. "And wise to boot." He tells her, taking a nibble on the candy.
Korina blinked slightly as she watched the exchange. "They say a man is wise only when he has three pairs of boots." she observed, making a play on Saito's words. "I wonder, how many do you have?" As usual, she was a bit... odd. But then, she interacted with others in some fairly odd ways to begin with, and seemed to have a point of view that was just a tad off from what others expected.
Saito smiles back. "Absolutely. Nice bird, a friend of yours?"
"Hush, you." He turns to Saito and smiles. "Hello! A fellow candy-lover?"
"He is..." The elf gasps as the bird jumps onto his head and puffs his feathers self importantly.
" "Faelfaren Corvus Aarathrandriir Arahaelon Corvax at your service." The raven sketches a slight bow. "The calf-eyed librarian is my elf, Yridhrennor Arahaelon." The elf mouths 'calf-eyed' and looks up at the raven in chagrin. "No relation, and none wanted! I took his surname because it makes him feel important. It's important to let your elves feel important from time to time, it keeps them from sampling the local Ulfen meads."
"One time, one time I did that! Yridhrennor's cheeks turn beet red at the bird's gossiping.
"It's always one time, with you. And, each time, you end up in bed with some very confused human crusader who thought he was bedding an elf lass for the night!" Falfaeren gives a melodramatic sigh and leans in towards Saito. "And, guess who's the one who has to do all the explaining? Me."
"It's not my fault! Humans are too difficult to tell apart! He didn't have a beard! I thought human males were supposed to have beards! I can't believe he thought I was a woman! My ears are nowhere near narrow enough!" He reaches up and closes the bird's beak when Falfaeren is about to speak again. "Hush. Anyway, he was quite satisfied that night, and Bors and I became great friends after that, so it really doesn't matter, does it?" He straightens himself, and tries to salvage what little of his dignity he has left. "Sorry about that, my familiar is far too talkative for his own good. I am Yridhrennor Arahaelon. Nephew of Cwmbhien Arahaelon, a magister of the Riftwardens."
Korina blinked slightly as she watched the exchange. "They say a man is wise only when he has three pairs of boots." she observed, making a play on Saito's words. "I wonder, how many do you have?" As usual, she was a bit... odd. But then, she interacted with others in some fairly odd ways to begin with, and seemed to have a point of view that was just a tad off from what others expected.
"Honestly, I only have one pair of boots." Saito admits, looking down at his worn boots. "Would definitely like some new ones."
"He is..." The elf gasps as the bird jumps onto his head and puffs his feathers self importantly.
" "Faelfaren Corvus Aarathrandriir Arahaelon Corvax at your service." The raven sketches a slight bow. "The calf-eyed librarian is my elf, Yridhrennor Arahaelon." The elf mouths 'calf-eyed' and looks up at the raven in chagrin. "No relation, and none wanted! I took his surname because it makes him feel important. It's important to let your elves feel important from time to time, it keeps them from sampling the local Ulfen meads."
"One time, one time I did that! Yridhrennor's cheeks turn beet red at the bird's gossiping.
"It's always one time, with you. And, each time, you end up in bed with some very confused human crusader who thought he was bedding an elf lass for the night!" Falfaeren gives a melodramatic sigh and leans in towards Saito. "And, guess who's the one who has to do all the explaining? Me."
"It's not my fault! Humans are too difficult to tell apart! He didn't have a beard! I thought human males were supposed to have beards! I can't believe he thought I was a woman! My ears are nowhere near narrow enough!" He reaches up and closes the bird's beak when Falfaeren is about to speak again. "Hush. Anyway, he was quite satisfied that night, and Bors and I became great friends after that, so it really doesn't matter, does it?" He straightens himself, and tries to salvage what little of his dignity he has left. "Sorry about that, my familiar is far too talkative for his own good. I am Yridhrennor Arahaelon. Nephew of Cwmbhien Arahaelon, a magister of the Riftwardens."
"I take back the nice bird comment, your bird seems like a bit of a dick." Saito says, smiling. "But don't worry, I understand confusing the gender of a species not your own." He says, placing an understanding hand on Yridhrennor's shoulder. "I still don't know if dwarf women are supposed to have beards or not."
Yridhrennor's eyes bulge as the raven caws loudly. "they.. they don't all have beards? Oh.. oh dear. Oh my."
"I am Saito Samson." Saito introduces himself to his various conversation partners with a bow. "Wandering swordsman of no reputation and little wealth."
Yridhrennor's eyes bulge as the raven caws loudly. "they.. they don't all have beards? Oh.. oh dear. Oh my."
Saito nods sagely. "And don't get me started on Intellect Devourers, the last one I met was quite the headache."
Yridhrennor nearly chokes on his candy as he laughs. Falfaeren caws and snatches the other two candies in his claws. "Hah! Fool! The candy is mine!"
Yridhrennor nearly chokes on his candy as he laughs. Falfaeren caws and snatches the other two candies in his claws. "Hah! Fool! The candy is mine!"
"You think I am funny?" Saito asks smiling. "That's good. Most people I've known respond to my jokes by punching me in the stomach and stealing my coin purse. It seems I've made progress in life."
He winks at the laughing wizard and his thieving raven.
"He grew up in a library. The only people he talks to are fictitious, or have been dead for a thousand years." Falfaeren takes a huge crunch out of the candy sword he's wielding. "Then he met me. I've been trying to introduce him to society. Teach him how to mate. What to mate. That sort of thing. He's fully-grown and doesn't have any hatchlings!"
Yridhrennor gives Saito a long-suffering look. "Most of the people I talk to are real--I'm not crazy. I just spend a lot of time with books, and not with.. um.. people. But, yes, I like your jokes. They're much better than Uncle's. Or, the ones that Scholar Thyrrindal tells. He insists on speaking Vudrani, and so few people speak it. And, he only tells jokes from Tian Xia. I still don't understand why a raccoon dog walking with his sack slung over his back is funny. I think he missed something in translation."
"He grew up in a library. The only people he talks to are fictitious, or have been dead for a thousand years."[b] Falfaeren takes a huge crunch out of the candy sword he's wielding. [b]"Then he met me. I've been trying to introduce him to society. Teach him how to mate. What to mate. That sort of thing. He's fully-grown and doesn't have any hatchlings!"
Yridhrennor gives Saito a long-suffering look. "Most of the people I talk to are real--I'm not crazy. I just spend a lot of time with books, and not with.. um.. people. But, yes, I like your jokes. They're much better than Uncle's. Or, the ones that Scholar Thyrrindal tells. He insists on speaking Vudrani, and so few people speak it. And, he only tells jokes from Tian Xia. I still don't understand why a raccoon dog walking with his sack slung over his back is funny. I think he missed something in translation."
"Only book I've ever seen from Tian Xia had text of a language I couldn't speak. It did have pictures though, mostly of a woman and a many tentacled Aboleth with boundary issues. To this day I don't know what that book was about, but it made me wonder just what in the Nine Hells happens over yonder, lost in translation as well I guess." Saito replies.
Abelard is late, as always; he makes few concessions to his poor eyesight and there's always something that isn't where he left it and has to be hunted down, usually by crawling on the floor. Plus, he has trouble with crowds - honestly, he's lived in Kenabres his whole life, surely everyone's had a good look at him by now? Oh, yeah - Armasse. Whole lot of new folks to gawp at me. It's hard to blame them - his opalescent eyes are pretty distinctive; that, and his 6 ft 2 muscled frame isn't exactly inconspicuous. And then there's the burn scars on his face...
He knows where he wants to go - Levvie's candy is one of his treats, for when things are going well. Or not so well. Or just plain middling, honestly it doesn't matter.
He arrives to find some sort of entertainment spectacle: an elf with a raven puppet. It's pretty good - Abelard can't see any wires or threads, and it really does look as if the bird is actually talking. He nods appreciatively, chuckling as the puppet appears to insult its master repeatedly. "Pretty good, that bird almost looks real. You part of the entertainment for later?" he asks the elf.
He smiles at Levvie. "Hey, darlin, whatcha got for your favourite customer today? Oh, and a Blessed Armasse to you, may the Empyreals bless and keep you. Drew and Celesta say hi - they ain't comin out today, you know how they are with crowds." He sighs. He did his best to persuade them, but in all honesty, he can't blame them for being suspicious of strangers. Not after what they've been through.
Noting that the puppet show has drawn quite a crowd, Abelard nods to the newcomers. "Y'all have good taste - Levvie here makes the finest candy I ever did find."
"The candy is quite good." Saito agrees. "Also Faelfaren isn't a dummy, it's a raven...or possibly a Demon of Teasing..."
Falfaeren puffs and splutters. "Puppet!! Puppet!! Why you... I.. I..never.. I ... ugh.. you.. Hu.."
"Mind your manners, Falfaeren, it's obvious he hasn't seen a talking raven before." Yridhrennor can barely speak for all his laughing.
"Oh! He's a simpleton! That explains so much!" The raven flies over to Abelard and sketches a bobbing bow in midair.
"He's not a simpleton, and be quiet, he's not deaf, either. He's... ugh! You are so exasperating at times!" Yridhrennor makes his own bow, and tries to do anything but moon over the giant man with the striking eyes. He doesn't want to appear rude. But, those are amazing eyes. "Please, forgive my familiar, we don't get out too often, and he sometimes forgets... well, no, I don't think he's ever had manners. I am Yridhrennor Arahaelon, nephew of Riftwarden Cwmbhien Arahaelon."
"Forget my manners! Forget! Me? You're the one...!" He squawks and flutters off at a swift swipe from Yridhrennor's staff.
"There'll be no living with him, now."
Abelard nods politely, reserving judgement on the 'realness' or otherwise of the raven - living right next to the Worldwound makes a man wary of such things. "Pleased t'meet you, Yridhrennor. Falfaeren too." His pronunciation of the names is effortless, giving the lie to his yokel accent. "Name's Abelard. Abelard Lassmar. Far as I know, I'm nobody's nephew." He offers his hand out; his grip is strong, almost exactly as if he spends every day working in a smithy.
He can see the elf looking at him, or more particularly at his eyes, but he doesn't take offence - he's far too used to it. "Like 'em? Gift from a cult, some years back. Hope to return the favour, some day." He does his best to make light of it, but the burn scars around his eye sockets tell their own story.
He turns to Saito. "Word of advice, if it ain't out of place - I wouldn't joke 'bout things bein' demons. I know you meant nothin' by it, but there's some folks here who ain't got horse-sense. Hearin' stuff like that just makes 'em edgy."
He turns to Saito. "Word of advice, if it ain't out of place - I wouldn't joke 'bout things bein' demons. I know you meant nothin' by it, but there's some folks here who ain't got horse-sense. Hearin' stuff like that just makes 'em edgy."
"Thanks for the advice." Saito agrees. "Prolly shouldn't spread it around that one of my ancestors was a Demon either. When you grow up being targeted for your heritage though, you tend to joke about such, both as a way to cope and because if you can't be popular, you might as well be notorious. Still, advice heeded. "
Yridhrennor takes Abelard's hand and gives it as a firm a shake as he's able. It's woefully weak. It's the hand of someone who's never touched a sword (or a smith's hammer) in his life. "I apologize for my rudeness. I didn't mean to stare. I've just never seen them before. Or read about them in the histories I've encountered in the library."
Falfaeren guffaws and lands back on Yridhrennor's shoulder. "Histories! Like anything that isn't a bird could do anything important!"
"Saito, you have the blood of demons inside you? Fascinating!" The elf looks at the shorter man with renewed interest. "Sorry, that was rude. I'm sure it wasn't... that is.. you.. I... Oh dear." He blushes and draws himself into his cloak. His raven laughs and laughs and laughs.
Saito smiles gently at Yridhrennor. "It's alright, nothing to be embarrassed about. I would tell you more but I honestly have no idea who my Demonic ancestor even is or how he or she entered my bloodline."
"Oh! May be able to help with that! If you want! I have access to the library! And, well.. my spells don't focus on that sort of thing right now, but I can research the incantations necessary. I'm sure I could help you, then."
Abelard shakes his head, and smiles warmly. The effect is transformative: the scarring around his eyes disappears in laughter lines; it's the smile of someone who enjoys life and sees the joke. "Nuthin to apologise for. Be surprised if you didn't stare some. So - you're a student? Here for research?"
As the elf blushes at his own social ineptness, Abelard tactfully turns aside to Saito, giving Yridhrennor time to recover.
"you tend to joke about such, both as a way to cope and because if you can't be popular, you might as well be notorious."
Abelard nods, with a rueful smile. "Yeah, I hear you on that. But honestly, if you hadn't told me I couldn't have guessed it; you look as human as me. Huh. More, probably." He looks the wiry human over; maybe there's a tinge of something, but it's rude to pry and he decides not to use his Sight (which is how he refers to his Detect Evil power).
"Oh! May be able to help with that! If you want! I have access to the library! And, well.. my spells don't focus on that sort of thing right now, but I can research the incantations necessary. I'm sure I could help you, then."
Saito brightens. "Yes actually, if you could find out who my ancestor is I would greatly be in your debt."
"you tend to joke about such, both as a way to cope and because if you can't be popular, you might as well be notorious."Abelard nods, with a rueful smile. "Yeah, I hear you on that. But honestly, if you hadn't told me I couldn't have guessed it; you look as human as me. Huh. More, probably." He looks the wiry human over; maybe there's a tinge of something, but it's rude to pry and he decides not to use his Sight (which is how he refers to his Detect Evil power).
"Thanks." Saito replies, genuinely pleased. "I have a slight aura of the Demonic that sometimes puts people off, but your words are pleasing."
Abelard chuckles at Saito's comment. "Round here, a 'slight aura of the Demonic' is a day with a vowel in it. Heck, it's probably an improvement on the normal. So what brings you here?"
Abelard shakes his head, and smiles warmly. The effect is transformative: the scarring around his eyes disappears in laughter lines; it's the smile of someone who enjoys life and sees the joke. "Nuthin to apologise for. Be surprised if you didn't stare some. So - you're a student? Here for research?"
Yridhrennor's blush deepened, until he looked like he'd been burned by the sun. "Th-thank you, um.. no, I'm a student. Um... you said that.. Yes... i... books...study. Learning." He can't help himself, Yridhrennor keeps staring at Abelard. He has the most fascinating eyes. And that smile! No! Stop! You really are acting like a moon-eyed child! Get a grip on yourself. You're 120 years old! You're old enough to be away from Uncle's care, and you're certainly old enough to know better than to moon over the first pair of pretty eyes, and shoulders... and arms... and smiles... and... Stop it!
"You need to forgive my elf, here, good Ablelard. He's far too shy. That is, until you put a few pints of Dwarven ale in him. Then he's... tell me again, what was that dance they do in Qadira? Better yet, could you show us? I know it worked wonders for the men of the Order of the Diamond Sun." Falfaeren titters and pulls on Yridhrennor's hair.
Yridhrennor gasps and seems ready to die, but bursts into a smile as soon Saito speaks.
Saito brightens. "Yes actually, if you could find out who my ancestor is I would greatly be in your debt."
"I can't promise anything, but I will definitely look for you. I may be able to find something in my books, now. I'll just go get them and...' He stops short when he finds that Falfaeren has managed to hook his belt loop around then handle of a food cart. "Then again.. there's the ceremony. I haven't missed on in 120 years. I shouldn't miss one now."
Abelard chuckles at Saito's comment. "Round here, a 'slight aura of the Demonic' is a day with a vowel in it. Heck, it's probably an improvement on the normal. So what brings you here?"
"Thanks." Says Saito smiling. "What brings me here?...I am looking to slay some Demons and hopefully get strong enough to kill some really powerful ones and do the world some lasting good, this seemed like a good stopover before entering the Worldwound." Saito pauses, as if he is considering saying much more, but then lets his answer just be that.
Abelard shakes his head, and smiles warmly. The effect is transformative: the scarring around his eyes disappears in laughter lines; it's the smile of someone who enjoys life and sees the joke. "Nuthin to apologise for. Be surprised if you didn't stare some. So - you're a student? Here for research?"Yridhrennor's blush deepened, until he looked like he'd been burned by the sun. "Th-thank you, um.. no, I'm a student. Um... you said that.. Yes... i... books...study. Learning." He can't help himself, Yridhrennor keeps staring at Abelard. He has the most fascinating eyes. And that smile! No! Stop! You really are acting like a moon-eyed child! Get a grip on yourself. You're 120 years old! You're old enough to be away from Uncle's care, and you're certainly old enough to know better than to moon over the first pair of pretty eyes, and shoulders... and arms... and smiles... and... Stop it!
"You need to forgive my elf, here, good Ablelard. He's far too shy. That is, until you put a few pints of Dwarven ale in him. Then he's... tell me again, what was that dance they do in Qadira? Better yet, could you show us? I know it worked wonders for the men of the Order of the Diamond Sun." Falfaeren titters and pulls on Yridhrennor's hair.
Yridhrennor gasps and seems ready to die, but bursts into a smile as soon Saito speaks.
Saito brightens. "Yes actually, if you could find out who my ancestor is I would greatly be in your debt.""I can't promise anything, but I will definitely look for you. I may be able to find something in my books, now. I'll just go get them and...' He stops short when he finds that Falfaeren has managed to hook his belt loop around then handle of a food cart. "Then again.. there's the ceremony. I haven't missed on in 120 years. I shouldn't miss one now."
"I would much appreciate it when you have the time." Saito responds.
After a moment. "So you like Dwarven Ale, huh?"
"Oh, my elf likes all sorts of alcohol. Dwarven ale, Ulfen mead, elf star wine, he'll drink them all... And end up passed out in someone's bed. ". Falfaeren gives a ravenly snort.
"I'm not that bad."
"You got us banned from the Sheathed Sword for a month because of you're "not that bad" fascination with things you're not old enough to understand". He sighs and flutters his wings. "And they had the must delicious meat pies"
Yridhrennor sighs. "I just want to learn more about people, and the best way to do that is through their food."
"Hmmm, interesting." Saito says, tapping his chin with his forefinger as if deep in thought.
"I like your ponytails by the way." Saito comments in an offhand way, gesturing towards Yridhrennor's hair.
"What brings me here?...I am looking to slay some Demons and hopefully get strong enough to kill some really powerful ones
Abelard nearly chokes on his toffee. He gives Saito a quick, reappraising look, noting the wiry musculature and the greatsword which he obviously knows how to use. Not a madman, then. Still...
"Listen, ki- what's your name? You seem nice an' all, it was nice knowin' you - but you go out like that, y'aint comin' back. Lucky to kill one demon, much less a powerful one. That big sword of yours - impressive, but you got anythin' made outta cold iron? Got holy water? Somethin' to see with when the dark comes for you? Armour?"
Turning to the elf, Abelard appeals to the scholar. "Back me up on this, please - tell him how bad that idea is."