Sron pats Melia's hand saying softly "It's alright Melia, I..., I do not require emotional labour. I resemble the robots we fought earlier: bereft of sentiment,"
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I mean this is in the best possible way: lol! Meila and Sron going for the Oscar with their heartfelt reactions and the whole time we don't even need remains to bring him back! I completely forgot as well. We can still keep the same dynamic though: Meila being Sron's 'heart' if you will. (like Data and Lal on TNG with the 'I'll feel it for both of us tear-jerker').
"Are you sure he is dead? If there are any remains I must have them,"says Sron. He pauses briefly, his face expressionless and when he speaks again his voice is absolutely even. All the same, those who are more astute at reading people feel as if he is changed by this, irrevocably. [b]"He is survived by a daughter. She will be devastated,"[b]
Sron takes in Sef's story. He prepared himself for the possibility of Father's death but he needed to be sure. While he does not need Meila to hold his hand, the gesture is still welcome. "Can you describe the man to us?" asks Sron "The one who new magic and chemistry?"
Sron nods. He hopes he doesn't have to do much talking. He was never good with social interaction. Father referred to it as "flawed theory of mind". Keth's threat grabs his attention somewhat. Is intimidation rather than conciliation a good thing? Or is it better to trick people? He wonders how to choose between the three...
Sron stays silent as Irizzle parlays with this Luepel. They're almost naked. Sron remembers the first time he wore clothing, the sensation of fabric on his skin was uncomfortable and alien. What if these people had found him instead of Father? Would he have stayed in this place away from the sun? All he could think about these days was 'what-if's. The stranger's reference to violent encounters with previous groups draws Sron out of his ruminations.
The deeper the group moved through this strange place, the quieter Sron grew. He wracked his brain trying to 'remember'. Houses made of metal, mushrooms that shed light, this strangeness had to mean something to him. His sister always maintained that he had memories of a past life locked away and that the right triggers could release them. It was not frustration he was experiencing but his failure to recognize anything around them made further attempts seem pointless. If Father were indeed dead then this expedition had to mean something.
"Difficult?" says Sron. "I suppose it is. I have observed that most beings require a narrative...," he glances at Sgrack. "...a story about themselves to know who they are. A place and date of birth, a genealogy of their ancestors or even a history of their people," Sron remembers back to his earliest memories of walking through the plains of Numeria before meeting Khonnir and Val. Naked, lost and alone. "I have none of these things: no origin, no lineage and no story," When Irizle offers to help, Sron nods. Has he said too much? People were difficult to predict. The same disclosure may seem reticent to one but excessive to another. Val was usually good for explaining these things to him.
Sron says the only thing he can: "I do not know where I am from. Nor do I know who I am,"
"No, it is not magic," said Sron softly. "But is is just as destructive, if not more so...,"
"I hope so," says Sron. "If not we will do everything we can to fix it,"
At Srag's question Sron's eyes glow red. "Kill," he said quietly.
”Hmmm... different smaller race - similar size to myself really. They often do not wear shoes and have hairy feet, and are known for their love of food - both cooking and eating it. Friend Sgrack, I vow that one day I will take you for a halfling meal, you will not be disappointed?” Sron clarified "Indeed, a meal cooked by halflings would be a treat,"
Sron flings a small stone at the... slime.
Sron's eyes glow again. "Any thoughts on what this is, Keth?"
Wanting to change the subject from his mysterious abilities, Sron suggests going North.
"I wish I knew Meila," said Sron. One of the things that Father had been trying to determine was how exactly Sron's abilities worked. Alien am I he thought to this world and everyone in it
Sron focused again and another clutch of rocks levitate from nearby his position enrobed by a soft blue-ish glowing energy. The rock launch towards the grotesque bug.
Sron's eyes glow red and the nanites suffusing his body react to his heightened state of alertness. A clutch of pebbles levitated off the ground surrounded by ribbons of pale energy before suddenly being launched at the closest of the glowing insects.
"There may be certain expulsions of gas that occur in caves. The sensation will pass, along with the urge to reate expulsions of your own" said Sron. Looking at Keth he arched an eyebrow and said " Good catch.
"What is the origin of this odd luminescece, one wonders?"mused Sron.
"Sgrack is right," said Sron. "The time has come for us to descend," Whatever became of Father, he needed to know. The lack of certainty was ... difficult to reconcile.
As you can hear, our dear friend Sgrack the orc is very concerned about us," pointed out Sron calmly. It is beyond unfortunate what can occur when he lacks context for his friends being dragged into a room with a locked door,"
"Those Ropefists," said Sron, his eyes glowing red. He pased and asked, "My eyes are glowing again aren't they?"
"The Ropefists,".
Of course," said Sron before adding:"...within limits,"
"Take heart," said Sron. "A life without risk is boring and predictable,"
Sron notices two men arguing and a third man approaching. Is he reaching for a weapon? He is wary but interested to see tings unfold...
Sron's eyes abruptly stop glowing and he attempts a 'reassuring' smile.
Sron whispers to Melia "I.. we, need you to win as many of those disks as you possibly can" His eyes glowed red for a moment as he emphasized. "If any of those disks glow blue, do not bet them. Put them aside,"
"Yes. I think that is a very good idea," said Sron.
It seemed that their arrival had had and impact.
Sron gathers everyone else and ushers them into the gaming hall.
Sron took notice of the Kellid with the tell tale sign of the ropefists. He averts his gaze downwards (knowing how his eyes tend to flare crimson whenever anything significant catches his attention) but not before hearing Meila casually address him. He stands ready for whatever happens next.
Sron's eyes flickered slightly at the mention of Numerian fluid.
Something about this faded gnome disturbed Sron deeply. It wasn't just the almost total lack of colour, or the twisted and broken undercurrent to his interactions with Meila and Irrizle. Sron recognized something of himself in this unfortunate creature. Hopelessness. Might there be such a thing as living too long? he wondered.
"I agree said Sron," walking alongside Keth on their way to the Junkyard.
Sron stopped himself from commenting on the actions of Irizzle and Sgrack. It is often better to allow people their mishaps that simply tell them that tasting random sludge is an unwise choice.
Sron addressed the elderly caretaker and says: "We are a group of concerned citizens investiga-..., looking to learn about the recent goings-on here in Torch,". Sron nodded to Meila to take up the lead on questions. Her likeability was a useful asset to the group.
Sron takes in the sight of Sgrack eating... what he ate and thanks all the gods for his relative lack of sentiment. "Let us be off then," he says gently to his new comapanions."Mylan awaits,"
Sron bowed his head slighty towards, Joram.
Definitely we should take care of other stuff first. I just wanted to secure the water breathing spell before we set off. In CRPG terms, let's pick :
Noticing Joram's hesitation. Sron clarifies.
"Is that not what I said?" asked Sron, furrowing his eyebrows quizically.
Sron had spent much time in this home away from home. With the disappearance of his father, coming here was a relief. He removed the scarf he wore around his face revealing his almost human visage. "Joram, we are indeed searching for Kohnir. We need to enter a place where the means of ingress is underwater,"said Sron. Joram was a valued family friend, one of the few source of truly unconditional acceptance that Sron had ever known.
"Councilman Joram Kyte should be our next destination," said Sron." Then we can vestigat-... think about the Ropefists and how they fit into all this,"
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