Twig pauses, then looks at how Kyros winces at her touch.
"I- I'm sorry." She manages to squeak, stumbling back and tripping over her robes. "Don't hit me... I'm not evil." She says, talking in a very jittery manner.
The bird, which has flown to a safer stool to sit on, makes a skyward gesture, getting the closest thing a bird can to an eye-roll.
"No problem. As I said, I'm not here to hurt you. Just the claws. Had bad experiences with claws. So...why is that bird talking?"
"This is Spiral, he is my familiar. A whippoorwhill, sent to me from Pharasma herself so that I could heal the living and combat the undead." Twig said, standing a little taller and looking strangely proud when she spoke of fighting the undead, the traces of fear leaving her eyes for a few seconds.
"undead? As in, evil? Well, i think we'll get along just fine."
Twig pauses and frowns. "Any sort of undead need to be put to rest, even those who have not succumbed to the rage that being trapped in this realm brings. Sometimes they just need a nudge. Sometimes something, or someone else is binding them here and that person needs a decapitation, or a bolt to the face."
She carefully sits on the barstool, checking that it will hold her negligable weight. Upon getting a better look at her, she looks sickly, almost wasting away, scars lace any visable skin she has. A cough wracks her body, and she trembles a bit.
"So, what do you do?" She finally asks, as she calls for some tea to drink.
She's not wearing it right now, but a mask that looks like a psycopomp's hangs at her side.
"I like to think I'm some sort of skilled melee combatant, but I'm really a horse trainer in his father's armor."
"Me, I'm just a Witch." Twig says. "Can't swing a sword to save my hide."
A fairly calm looking gnome (if such a thing is possible), with a friendly smile, addresses Twig. "Did I hear you say that you're in the business of combatting undead, ma'am? In that case, it would be a great honor to place my shield between you and the evildoers. That should spare you the hazards of having to swing a sword . . . or getting hit by one."
"Undead, and anything that preys upon souls, or anything that stops them from reaching the Boneyard to be judged for their lives and deeds." Twig says, looking at the two people.
A tengu wearing plain traveling clothes and a necklace with a small three-ring puzzle on it walks in, hears the current conversation, and decides the best course of action is to simply keep his beak shut and get some tea. With lots of sugar. Although he does mutter something under his breath in tengu.
Kyros looks at the tengu. "Hello, sir. I didn't quite catch what you said."
He looks up. "Hm? Oh, it's nothing. Just listening in, I guess--don't let me interrupt your...interesting conversation."
I do not kill anything. I colorspray'em undead vampire master or bird riding bird alike. Then I loot'em.
My there are lotsa of birdies in this place tonight...
"The undead, and those that steal souls, those that use souls for dark rituals. They are an affront to nature, an affront to Pharasma, and must be removed existence." Darkness flickers over her features.
"Just gonna tell you now," the tengu says to Pontificor, "no bird puns. I've heard them all before and none of them are funny."
He eyes Twig carefully though. "Follower of Pharasma, huh? Take it you've had some bad run ins with crappy necromancers."
"Not yet." She admits, only fae really. "they were not crappy though, they were scary. Mostly run ins with people who don't like tieflings." A wry smirk plays on her face. "Try spending 60 years in an orphanage."
Twig the Witch wrote: "Not yet." She admits, only fae really. "they were not crappy though, they were scary. Mostly run ins with people who don't like tieflings." A wry smirk plays on her face. "Try spending 60 years in an orphanage." "I haven't even been alive as third as long as that, but I know the feel. Tell you what, you and I ever work together and I can assure you any undead problems will be solved just like that," he says with a snap of his fingers and a hint of wry amusement in his voice.
"But, try not to let them get to you, alright?"
"The Undead, I'm not scared of them. I have holy water, and positive energy magic."
Funny? I did color spray a bird riding a bird before. When I was over in that Tein place getting some piece of hair magitized. I ama super cereal pathsearcher. I do not make buns of any type. I dance and colorspray.
I colorspray undead. So I am not a scaredy cat either. Did I tell you about the time I Colorsprayed a master vampire and we broughted him back the lodge?
"I didn't say you were scared of them. I was just saying don't let the tiefling-haters get to you." He shrugs. "A lotta jackasses out there...nothing you can really do about it, trust me I know."
He looks at Pontificor and shakes his head. "Sounds like a real cool story, bro."
Ohh it is a cool story. But I have no bird brothers, I am sorry. You see it all began when that adventure captian* begins long long story.
Twig grins a bit again. "I try not to. I'm not scared of them, It's the monsters out there, the non-undead ones... like chimeras and chromatic dragons and stuff."
"That's where Crichton and I come in."
And me! Chime-ras have eyes, I know. Reddywhipple has eyes too.
"Reddywhipple? Who's that? I mean I specialize in duels."
He is a dragon I met. Although he is very tiny. I met 2 dragons. A big metally one, and a small hyper one. Reddywhipple is the same hyper one I met.
Why would you specialize in the number two?
"Focus. I COULD throw myself into the fray, but instead I directly take on their leader while magic users such as yourself take down the weaker ones."
Yomotsu looks at the gnome, starts to say something, but decides it's just best to keep his beak shut. Another discussion of tactics, it seems.
"Me, I just try not to get killed and to keep other people from getting killed. Y'know, keep you bashy-guys in peak condition and the occasional unorthodox strategy. But, mostly, I'm best at information gathering and interrogation. Knowledge is power and all that, so they say, but you'd be surprised how many people don't even try to gain it beforehand."
He puts some more sugar in his tea. Why? Why not?
I use magic against magicay people too. Do you know how hard it is to magitize things when you are drownin in a ball of water?
Tomato Soup, Gnome humor at Yomotsu Kakuriyo's name. I like power, magic power speff-ic-ah-ly . Can you knowledge some of that for me? I will be your friend. Ohh whats that in your drink pesh?
"...Tomato..." He just sighs and mutters, "Ers, give me strength..." in tengu before continuing. "I will...see what I can do, if we work together. And it's sugar, just plain sugar."
"Good enough, I suppose."
Kyros Deun wrote: "Good enough, I suppose." The tengu stirs his tea a bit more and shrugs. "So anyway, what say we discuss something that's not about work or killing such and such baddy and what not. Shoot the breeze for a bit, y'know? Where you guys from? Got any hobbies?"
"Live in Lastwall, trained a lot with cavalry. In my spare time, I work training horses. Like to think I'm good at it."
"Lastwall? That's the place near the Hold, and where that one guy, Tar-what's-his-face, is interred, right? Sounds like it's a stressful place to live."
He drinks more of his tea. "Me, I've never been much for horses. Is it hard work?"
"You have to learn somewhat through Trial and Terror. Which, for Crichton and I, came on the fields of battle. And living near Tar-Baphon never really bothered me. I was young and foolish then, and old and foolish now."
"Well, better old and foolish than young and dead, I would suppose. You got any fun stories?"
I have the besterest stories. Surely you heard of Pontificor the great!
I put a Ninja-bus in an aqueous orb full of mad monkeys. I have colorsprayed a cult leader master vampire guy. I defended the nesting swallows from bird people like you, but meaner. I learneded the secrets of umm meta-feta-meens from the lizardy people inside a walling hanging blanket. I was carried across the sotring stairs and disarmed the biggerest giant of his sword after I drowneded his girlfriend.
"There was my time in Tian Xia. What we did to pass the time-that was a hoot!."
The tengu makes as to say something, but, scouring his memory, he can't think of any particularly funny stories, or even good stories that didn't involve horribly bad things happening, so he decides to pass.
"What'd you do in Tian Xia?" he asks, while wondering what in the nine hells the gnome has been smoking recently. Actually, nevermind; he'll probably be better off not knowing.
"Well, we did something for Amara Li, and the Way of the Kirin. But there and back again we fought monsters, made some sort of strange slush drink and threw snowballs! Whoopee!!!"
I catered Zarta's rescue for 827gp including caterer, carriages, band, and servants.
I distributed explosive runes messages to four groups of NPC's and watched them duke it out. Our cleric healed and buffed the side he wanted to win. We made side bets on the outcome and drank wine.. Most enjoyable fight.
I started the 1st goblin corsairs. Armed the little blighters with bows but they had to earn the arrows. Eventually they did more damage then two of our party...which was only by pure luck. I pinned the right honorable order of the fish hook on grand Marshall wet pants, and cried as he marched the corsairs away.
"People never do listen when you order them, do they? Back home, that'd never be tolerated!!!"
A grey cloaked figure walks into the bar, he seems to be scanning for something in particular. Upon seeing the whippoorwhill, he walks directly towards it, his posture is guarded.
The hood of the cloak drops, exposing the face of a young human male, and he scans for any signs of trouble.
The figure stops and looks to Kyros.
"I am well, do you know if someone called the Whippoorwhill?"
Posting as Kyrie Ebonblade as VO can't use aliases.
The Varisian woman in the corner smiled, listening into the conversation as she laid her kapenia on the table in front of her with a slight 'clank' and pulled a small weapon from her bandolier to take apart with a tool kit as she listened to the mayhem and chatter going on around her.
It had been months since the incident in Riddleport, and the death of her former mentor after his betrayal. With her 'adoption' into the Grand Lodge proper, she had felt so very much the outcast for a while but it was clear to see the antics of her fellows at rest was the same here as it had been in the Shadow Lodge. She sipped her strong glass of whiskey and chewed on a length of trail sausage as she lurked in the shadow listening.
It was starting to seem like home. Though she wondered if someone needed to wean the gnome off sugar and coffee somewhat.
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