Roman nods a greeting.  "Welcome Tahirah.  I will need little enough for the part I intend to play in the defence of this place.  Access to the open air is all I need - an open window will be adequate.  I believe that Banglen-Yp intends to play a similar role.  If it suits I will leave the tower with her, to meet the foe.  I doubt that the Lords of Charyk will have any problem with that."

Morgan nodded to the robed woman, and with a finger filled in for Luke, "Amalie, Brandon, and Leareth. You probably saw most of my other friends outside."

"A pleasure to meet you, Tahirah." His smile grew warmer as he greeted her. "They were just filling us newcomers in on the enemy, and what's worked and failed before. "

 

Her interest perking up as the man introduces the latest female to the others, Banglen-Yp took note of the names.

Before she could stop herself she spoke.

•• Hel•lo • thor•i•a• Ta•hi•rah •• I • am • bux•om • Bang•len••Yp • and • this • is • ran•dy • Ro•man ••

She pointed to herself and then Roman in turn to make certain it was clear who was who, and what.

Then she waved to the woman called Tahirah and looked over at Luke.

•• Luck•y • Luke ••

She smiled happily.  She had learnt something new.

Her gaze turned towards the cats and Morgan.  Was she about to name them as well or...?

 

"Hello Tahirah."  James tries to muster some enthusiasm.  It is important that they work together with the local forces, after all, and Tahirah is their appointed liaison.

Dorian glances at Luke.

"Not a damned thing," Luke repeated aloud.  He gestures to the others.  "We were just discussing a few things I've learned up in the council chambers.  Best have that out in the open.  Turns out the Sword isn't here.  In brief, it didn't break the Staff - the Staff broke itself on the Sword.  Their maker, a chap by the name of Ganelon, enchanted them so that they could never be used against each other.  Sneaky - I like that.  The users, so typically, didn't know of this, and when it came to blows I expect the Staff-user struck first, and that finished him."

He cocked one eyebrow, grinned.  "Recently, at least in living memory, a man came here - a certain Carl Corey.  Dark grey hair and beard, flecks of red, grey and silver-flecked eyes.  He ran off with the Sword."

The smile sharpened, were that possible.  "And no, I don't know a damned thing about either of them."

He paused to give a short glance at Banglen-Yp.  "Loquatious, please.  After my 'Death Star' incident with Dorian, I'd hardly call myself 'lucky'."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Wed 06 Dec 2006.

 

She pondered.

She got an idea.

•• May•be • bad • luck • is • all • used ••

She showed him a smile.

 

Roman shakes his head.  "I wouldn't worry.  Her choice of epithets seems more based on alliteration than accuracy - as she should know."

"Hardly."  Luke shot a look at Berd.  "I've built up enough Karma to give me centuries of bad luck."  He glanced over at Roman.  "Oh, I'd say she nailed down at least one of them accurately."

Luke moved to stand beside the fire and held out his hands to it; the flame's light played on his sardonic features.  "So.  Now we know - there is no succor to be found with the Sword."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:57, Wed 06 Dec 2006.

 

Shaking her head, Banglen-Yp looked as if she considered whether another slap for Roman was in order or not.

          In the end...

...none came.


Instead came a finger pointing to people in turn.

•• Am•ple • Aaron ••

•• A•gile • Am•a•lie ••

•• Bell • Berd ••

•• Braw•ny • Bran•don ••

•• Cheer•ful • Chance ••

•• Dar•lin • Dor•i•an ••

•• Jol•ly • James ••

•• Litt•le • Le•ar•eth ••

•• Long • Luke ••

•• Mord•ant • Mor•gan ••

•• Think•ing • Ta•hir•ah ••

Then, a bright smile as she looked around to see if she had missed someone.

•• Can•not • see • Duck•ing •D••Om•bra ••

She either has lost it completely or was practising her newfound concept rather than focusing on any overgrown knife that was not here anyway.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Wed 06 Dec 2006.

Of the four, Brandon and Amalie seemed to enjoy these descriptions best, Leareth and Morgan being somewhat appalled by their apellations. Morgan, of course, lost his chagrin almost immediately in the challenge,  "This tradition toils toward tales to terrible to tell. 'Tis time to trim 't?"

Tahirah stands quietly, inscrutable within the robes.  She waits for a moment of quiet to fall, and then says simply, "It is an honor to meet all of you."  Then she adds, tone sounding amused, "I believe I have everyone's names."

Aaron raised his eyebrows when Banglen called him "Ample", and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Sorry, sorry. Been a long time since I've considered myself 'ample' in any regard. 'Wasted' is usually the coined phrase." He leaned back in his chair and gestured far and wide with one hand (his left, actually).

"The sword isn't just 'not here.' It's nowhere near us. Mind you, my search wasn't done 'in motion' so the results are sketchy at best, but I'm sure the individuals in our group who are more talented at such things would tell you the same thing, in a bit more detail. Whoever has the Sword isn't anywhere near us within a world's-span of distance." He exhaled, and lit a cigarette (his third). "We'll definetly have to take up those leads when we're finished here, if we can't attempt it before then."

"If this Carl Corey is of Amber, we can be assured the sword is not so easily found. I think finding the sword will be a more arduous process, but it may be of worth. For now, do we know exactly what advantage the sword would yield us? We know it to be powerful weapons that could destroy any lesser creature that touched it, according to legend. Perhaps it would be advantageous, later, to find out more of these legends."

He ignores Banglen's attempt to rile him, as he saw it, with his monicker. If that was her intent, she didn't know him well enough. Perhaps she was merely testing him. She had to be up to something, shielded as she was. He would watch her closely.

"I concur that pattern may be the best tool for such a search, in this case."

Berd has, obviously, remained silent.  It took all of his effort to simply manifest a voice.  Participating in a conversation, aloud, is beyond him.  He nods his tiny head to Tahirah, though, at her greeting.

"Long?"  Luke raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.  "I have been named worse.  In any case, all I know of the sword is that it is a legendary weapon of great might, that may or may not have been what brought us to Charyk in the first place."

He frowned.  "Of course, since it has been missing, lo these many years, I question that.  If it does not lie here, why were we drawn to this land?"

 

Shoving her hands between her knees, Banglen-Yp smiled coyly and let out two syllables, sounding a lot like a dove cooing.

•• O•kee ••

Whatever that was for.

With a stupidly happy smile she observed everyone in a cheerful silence, for the moment, eyes wide and smiling as well.

Finally, after listening to Long Luke she pursed her lips and got a dainty little scowl on her forehead.

•• Des•ti•ny ••

Whether that was rhetorical or not was nigh impossible to say, but there was a strange glimpse in her eyes.

Then again, it might just have been a trick of the light.

 

Luke smiled, eyes dark and teeth bright.  Sharp did not begin to describe his expression.  "Destiny?" he said, quietly.

"I make my own."

 

Banglen-Yp nodded slowly, smiling mysteriously.

•• Ex•act•ly ••

 

Roman chips in.  "If you were drawn here it is because there is something of use to be discovered.  Why should it be a weapon, however powerful ?  Is that really what you need in this struggle"

"We've acknowledged from the beginning that it might not be a weapon. We consider a weapon as a possibility because a weapon was mentioned in the message that sent us here, broken as that message may have been. It is impossible to tell if the weapons was meant to be the reason or an indication of something else, so we keep our options open. When we arrived and a weapon was mentioned, so it was worth investigating."

Speaking carefully, Tahirah says, "It is not my place to inquire into your privacy, any more than you have asked into ours.  If I am crossing this line, I apologize...but might I hear this message that sent you here?  Perhaps it will mean more to me."

Before any can answer, a ripple of quiet spreads through the room.  Conversations die, and heads turn towards doors and windows, expectation in their eyes.

In the quiet, a fading note can be heard.  A horn of some description, dying now.  Then a second note sounds.  And a third.  Then silence.

Around the room, people are making small gestures now... touching fingertips to brows or hearts, moving hands through simple patterns.  Some wear small items of jewellery on chains and cords around their necks.  Many take those items and hold them for a moment, or kiss them.

Sound returns, in the form of whispered prayers in a hundred languages.

Then somebody laughs nervously, and in moments everything is back to normal...

"What the hell," Aaron mumbled, "was that?"

His chair hit the floor with a somewhat jarring 'crack' as he leaned forwards, crossing his arms before him upon the table and leaning over to whisper with his fellows.

"Caravan coming." Morgan answered, nodding toward the exit. "Anyone else want to see the fight?"  Rising, he gestured, and Amalie, Brandon, and Leareth shook themselves, padding out.