Cireladwen steals in after the others, moving to L20.
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Sorry guys. Family stuff came up.
Cireladwen nocks an arrow into her bow, tight-lipped and graceful.
Cireladwen stares at Garreg impassively with void-black eyes. She is imagining squishing his head, but there is no need to let this on.
Cireladwen has nothing to add to this.
Cireladwen moves over and sit atop Garreg, acting as serene as one can be while sitting on top of a crime kingpin.
Sorry. I also had a busy day. D: But WOW. 50 posts.
Cireladwen readies her bow and nocks and arrow, but does little else at the moment.
Cireladwen and her void-black eyes are at a loss with Sorrin. She splutters a little, and then begins to pace. If it were up to her, and she a stealthier sort, she would go and shadow Garreg for a day before passing any judgements. However, stealthy... she was not exceptionally such. "You mentioned Garreg... traffics in whores?" she asks rather stupidly.
Losing all composure again, Cireladwen tenses, approaches Sorrin from behind and swats at the back of his head like a misbehaving child.
She shakes her head and proceeds in the cadence of a human grandparent.
She pauses.
"I saw a man going into that building I pointed to just a moment ago." Cireladwen points out, letting out a polite cough.
Cireladwen points to a small building in the trees, flaring her nostrils.
Cireladwen wakes up to the chaos unfolding, surprised she even nodded off. She glances at her ring momentarily, and then at the rampaging men.
What the hell is going on?!
135 posts. Darn.
Cireladwen subtly shakes her head at all of this madness. A clear cut view of who had the rights to do anything here would be helpful, but is unlikely.
Guys, I'm going to be gone from tonight until Sunday mid-day.
Cireladwen attempts to act suave about the fact she nearly just choked on a seared root vegetable of some kind. She saw the validity of both arguments, but that wasn't to say she had expected such a sudden outburst.
Torgue samples the round piece of meat with the center bone still in. Indeed! A hearty portion and the sauce is fantastic. Why, I think I will even eat my vegetables for the first time in years. Cireladwen blanches. "Bróg, greens are often the last line between our bodies and a terrible demise. If someone learns this recipe, will it cause you to eat them with more frequency?!"
"Amarthanadan, there is no way to be sure of that without pointing. I am no aristocrat, but I know that pointing is frowned upon."
"Ah. Well feel free to use me to cover your identity if you have need. I can think of some amusing ways to do this." She keeps her face absolutely straight.
"Familiar territory, I take it?" Cireladwen asks, politely not looking at the one captain she thinks she recognizes as she tries in vain to remember exactly what country he's from.
Unaware of the proper way to eat under such scrutiny, Cireladwen watches other people drinking wine and/or eating first and tries to mimic them.
Cireladwen doesn't bother to introduce herself in her flashy apparel, as she is more than content to hide in Astrianna's shadow. She left her bow, quiver, and everything else she was able to inside her bag of holding, which she had restringed to look more like a purse. She smiles in confusion if looked at for too long.
Once dressed, Cireladwen beams at Astrianna. She hasn't felt this beautiful in a long time, and there is no need for secrets, now. If a herald of Desna can't be happy when dressed like a queen, there's no need for such a thing. "I haven't... Oh, my..."
Cireladwen applies the oil liberally, and as Astrianna leaves, it becomes obvious that the older elf.. just doesn't want to.
"A full elf, I would wager..." Cireladwen sighs. "For how long we live, you would think we would appreciate change more by now, whether in language or lineage." Cireladwen copies Astrianna to the best of her abilities with some of the objects and not others, preferring the different types of soap above all else.
Cireladwen's clothes are more dirty than bloody, and aside from a single cluster of arrow-holes in one shoulder, they've taken little damage.
She regards Astrianna momentarily. "Your command of our tongue is amazing for someone raised adanen, yes. Your accent is perfect to be from Kyonin, but there are some tells... you use generalized terms instead of regional ones."
Astrianna tosses the attendant outside a Taldan platinum piece. She was running out of the things, they were quickly being exchanged for more local currencies. Her emerald eyes glance towards her new Elven companion. "Muinthel, your bath is on me, if you care to join me. Let's relax. The deluxe room has this fabulous lavender scented oil you must experience. I suspect it is imported all the way from Kyonin, and I need an expert nose to affirm." Cireladwen shook her head at the insane level of currency being passed around all willy-nilly, but for all that, she, too, is of this income bracket and it's about time she attempts the large bath. She hands over eleven gold pieces and eyes Astrianna."I have not been to Kyonin since I was very young, even by our standards... but they say scents stay with you, Muinthel, so I can give you the best opinion I have." She tries to make a motion to indicate the extra gold is to cover both of their laundry and mending fees, as well as providing a tip for the both of them. "I can't help but wonder if my hair is a different color under all the salt. Typically, I bathe in the sea or some isolated inlet. It feels good, as long as you don't mind the stickiness."
Cireladwen also needs to clean up.
Cireladwen watches like the horizon, like she half-expects another ship to sweep in and strike the already-brought-low Tulita. To be honest, though, she just understands very little that is being said and...
Cireladwen tried to nonchalantly leave the area, on account of being unable to honestly apologize when some of the "hard-working" people Falken might have been slavers, smugglers, and the like.
Yes to keeping the infamous Dragon's Tail. Also, Cireladwen has info that makes me almost want to label him chaotic good...
Cireladwen seems to agree with Embrianna's idea, if only because that opinion causes her to stop staring into space, which she had been doing ever since she accidentally interfered with their bargaining session.
Check out the Nightslink., I think.
"And a wanted criminal. I'd fix that, first." she says quickly, rubbing her head in frustration with herself. "As I am relatively sure he's innocent... I just don't know where to look for that evidence..."
"It's the ship of a missing and unfortunate friend." Cireladwen responds from her current perch to Sorrin. "And it's... well, run aground, so..."
Whelp, Cireladwen will no longer be needed.
"Ah. Well, when that occurs, please let me know. I would go with you."
Cireladwen smiles blankly at Torgue, unsure as to how to respond honestly without breaking his poor little heart. He looks... a little silly, to be honest.
How can something with a veil even have eyes to bring out?! Well, it is a loose mesh, but...
She clears her throat uncomfortably at the mention of fine dining.
As alert as the night before after just two hours of sleep, the elf gives a nod of assent to Sorrin. She has more to see in town, and while she knows leads in the area, the party is busy enough as is. Still, she can't help but let slip that... "If we get the time for it, I wish to look into someone's wrongful conviction."
Cireladwen will accompany whomever needs her, or watch over the ship depending on party need.
Cireladwen is not overbearing during the short lesson, as she recognizes Astrianna as a quick study. As for Chell's behavior on her return, the elf has to restrain herself from informing the cleric that her health benefits those under her care. Instead, she just watches the woman go from person to person, figuring out how she could break it to her... if it is a persistent problem, that is. She spends the rest of the night in the crow's nest, content in one spot and watchful as an owl.
"I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, there is no need to go so far as to even use arrows tonight. I was thinking we talk about stances, and see how you use your grip and pull... A short chore, you know, and cognisant of the fact you need rest." She taps her bow, but knows it is unfair to expect Astrianna to use it. Still, it suffices for demonstrational purposes, and the elf pulls it out of its strap with alacrity, studying her grip and slowly pulling back on the bowstring. She models the breathing pattern, picks a shadowy figure on the dock below as a faux target, and releases her imaginary arrow with her knees bent just-so. "That is the Stance of the Bronadui Belab-carch" she says softly, before crouching just a little more, as she does when she's about to let off a volley. This stance is more suited to female musculature, and the angle of her arm is more relaxed. "-and this is the Norn Carach. If we share a name, then we share the spirits of beak and jagged fangs." She smiles. "It is said that my ancestors that made the style were man and wife, and that when they died, they left behind their wishes to be reborn in Brightness. These became a she-bear and a thrush, and harrassed the lands of their children in times of peace to ensure that their hunters' skills did not diminish, and that the forms were never forgotten." "An anecdote, obviously.. I'm more concerned with the practical applications of these stances for you, and I've no compunctions about keeping them "pure", much as I don't have any problems with you, Muinthel. Good things have to evolve. If you learn these forms, alter them as you see fit to match your needs."
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