"Kerric !" Peck calls out, unable to stop himself as his friends passes beyond rudeness to 'fighting words', matter not 'she started it' ...

"Let it pass," he implores his friend, very aware of the affront to Dwarvish pride, but sensing that the stranger does not mean him harm.

At least he hopes not.

Yona glanced at Kerrik and the woman woman, aware that everything had suddenly gone quiet.  She didn't say a word, but simply limped closer to Jenette, moving to stand beside her.

She leaned on her stick and watched as things started to unravel between Kerrik and Flechette.

The rafters of the school house, it could be said, were perfect for a windling.  Unlike a finished building, there was plenty of venting so no smoke from fires below would linger in the peak of the building, and the perch was nice and high.  Of course, as excitable as a windling is... that can be interspersed with periods of lethargy.

In retrospect, it shouldn't be taken as much of a surprise that Quendalaa actually fell asleep on a nice thick beam a few minutes into the conversation.  It was interesting, but she was tired from an intense period of flitting.

And, it should be even less of a surprise that she managed to roll over in her sleep, emit an undignified squawk as she fell and woke, and barely remembered that she had wings before she hit the ground.  Blushing sheepishly, the small figure gained a little altitude and settled back in to watch what was going on.  The brush with a fall certainly seemed to have done wonders for her fatigue.

Flechette does, indeed, twist it a little away from Kerric as he reaches for his axe - in keeping with their play, she does this, too, casually, as if she's just turning it to change its angle in the light.  At his response, she smiles a little.  "Nonsense," she says.  "We fight, you lose."  She says it not so much as a prediction as an event, as if it's happening while she says it.  "And if this was 'your property', you wouldn't have to sneak it about, would you?" she asks, giving him a sideways glance.

She pauses briefly as a sudden Windling drops into the middle of everything, and then flips the axe around and offers it back to Kerric.  "This axe has a heavy history, kid, and you're no part of it.  If you want it to be yours, you've got to change that.  Then maybe I won't be able to take it out of your hand whenever I want."

Quendalaa's appearance offers a fair tension break for everyone, however, even bringing out a snorted chuckle from Kira.  Kira turns her attention back to Peck, reaching out to touch his arm briefly as if to assure him that his friend is OK.  "Well, it's fortunate for you, then, that I don't believe you'll need to.  We'll have a talk with the Smith soon, if you'd like; I suggest we just tell him I'd like the use of the forge, and am willing to trade service for time on it.  Best not tell him yet I may be training you myself - contrary styles aren't often welcome, with good reasons, but I hope he'll understand when the time comes."

At this, Laethwyr finally breaks his silence, throwing up his hands and letting out a disbelieving 'pah!' sound that he seems to have been holding in for a little while.  "No, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but really, I can't allow this farce to continue," he says.  "Truly?  You choose Peck?  Yona?" he asks, stark disbelief washing out his usual tones of mere disdain.  "Next you'll be saying that Alia the Airhead is ideally suited to...to..."

"Elementalism?" Tralistaire prompts, thoughtfully.

"Yes, fine, Elementalism," Laethwyr continues, brushing the thought away with a sweep of his arm and a flick of his wrist.  "Indeed.  No, this is become entirely preposterous.  You need to meet my friends.  I assure you, you will find in us far superior 'material' to work with, if that is what you seek."

Alia was still trying to figure out just what happened with Kerric and Flechette. First they each had an ax and then she had two. It was strange how she could do something like that.

She didn't laugh when Quendalaa fell off of the rafters. Such a fall could hurt a windling! "Are you alright?"

She started when Laethwyr spoke up specifically about her and he used the nasty nickname he always used when the adults weren't around! The strangers were interesting and they seemed interested in her and her friends. The taunt in front of the strangers burned her and something finally broke in her. "You shut up! You and the rest of Urdon's gang do bad things and get away with them because all the adults are too busy to deal with it. Now these people come in and pay attention to us and you want to take that away like you do everything else! You . . . " Trailstaire's single word sunk in and she looked at him in surprise. "you . . . you think so?"

"Where are your friends, Laethwyr?" Opluriko asked, quite frankly surprised they weren't around. Probably off somewhere causing trouble...

OOC: D'oh! Missed the 'gives it back' part. My bad... retcon:

---

"Thank you. Doesn't matter if I lose, though. You don't steal my stuff and leave unscratched, even if that's all I score on you." He puts the axe away, in a more promounced place, this time, tucking it in his belt. "I don't think I'd fare that poorly, myself, but that doesn't matter either. You got a point to make now, or is that you can take an axe from someone who isn't expecting it your whole point?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Mon 23 July 2012.

Peck quickly nods his acceptance of Kira's offer ... truth be told, his mind is racing at the prospect and his mouth can't hope to keep up.

But Laethwyr's outburst gives him pause.  Though his inclination is to ignore the Elf, he feels perhaps as if his would-be rival has a point - perhaps Peck and his friends have been hogging the Stranger's attention ... and that selflessly given, mind.

"I think Marden would be only too glad of an extra pair of hands, and happy indeed to have someone in there with more than an apprentice's skill," he turns back to Kira first, then tilts his head towards Laethwyr.  "I meant what I said before ... you are welcome too."  That might be stretching the truth.  "Mind you behave though." Gaze hardens. "You don't interfere with this working."

"Is it always like this?" Yona asked Jenette as the tension started to drain out of the air.  The question, of course, suggested another one, "Have you done this sort of thing before?"  She shifted her weight slightly, leaning on her stick as she shuffled her feet.

Then, as the elf spoke, she lowered her voice and murmured, "Laethwyr's friends are bullies and trouble-makers."  She suppressed a shiver that ran up her spine, a small quiver of delight at the thought of being able to tell somebody the truth about Urdon and his gang - somebody who hadn't already decided that she was just making up stories.

At least she hoped Jenette hadn't already decided that.

Laethwyr meets Alia's eyes as she shouts at him, folding his arms and waiting it out with a sneer - but her question to Tralistair startles him.  Even as he scoffs, the T'skrang is giving the flick of his tail that, for the lizard-like folk, equates to a shrug.

"I don't know, of course," he says, in a hasty, don't-get-your-hopes-too-high tone.  "But the nickname Airhead is not entirely uncommon among those with early leanings to the path."

Laethwyr seems about to interrupt, but Opluriko's question brings him back to the understanding that he's rather surrounded, which does deflate him somewhat.  "They're..."  He glances at Chaia, and then to Avahur, and freezes.  Avahur stands in the doorway, his hand held flat, with the mouse resting on his palm.  He's leaning towards it, letting it sniff at his nose.

To Kerric, Flechette laughs.  "Think you could give me a scratch, now?  Modesty's not one of your strong suits, is it?" she asks.

A bit stunned, Laethwyr turns away from Avahur to look at Peck, giving his head a shake.  "Wouldn't want to dirty myself in your forge anyway," he says, dismissively.  "If you will excuse me, I shall go get my friends, and you may see for yourself."  Spinning on a heel, , he stalks out, brushing past Avahur without looking at him.  Looking a bit sheepish, Avahur lowers his hand, letting the mouse run off.

Jeanette watches Laethwyr go, shaking her head a little in bemusement, and then looks up at Yona.  "Always like what?" she asks, with a straight face, followed by a grin.  "More or less, I suppose, but we've never quite done this before.  I've never seen a whole town actually without Adepts.  But if I can take Kira's suggestion a little further..."  She looks around at everyone.  "If we're to teach you, I'd suggest we all keep it hushed, for now.  Even from friends.  Even from family.  People might react funny, once word gets out; easier to tell them what's done, than what's doing, if you see my meaning.  Harder for them to say we're Horror-Touched when they can see you're trained, and still alright.  As for your...friends," and she looks to Chaia, who hasn't left, and seems to be staying awfully quiet, "Well.  We're trouble makers ourselves, and," she looks at Flechette rather pointedly, "Some of us could easily be mistaken for bullies.  If they have the spark, we'll likely be willing to teach them, too, and maybe they'll find a better purpose in it."

Orm'gha nods.  "Most do," he says, his deep voice rumbling out.

Yona watches Laethwyr's overly theatrical retreat, exercised with a precision which speaks of hours of diligent practice, and manages to keep from giggling at the speed with which he had been knocked down to size.

Then she nods to Jeanette, her face still a deadly serious mask, in spite of the excitement and curiosity that wells up in her heart, "Keep it to ourselves?  Of course.  I'm good at holding secrets.  I learned that lesson well, at the hands of good teachers."

And that statement, coupled with the conversation that others are having about the forge, prompts a new question, "Will we have to tell my Dad?"

Opluriko cocked her head a bit. She had hopes that some day Laethwyr would recognize the errors of his 'friends' and become a decent person.

S/he was far more surprised, and concerned, with Avahur. Oh yes, s/he considered Janin and Sithathys the most disturbing as the group, Janin because he seemed to delight in annoying her personally and Sithathys because he seemed to enjoy annoying the animals, but s/he considered Avahur possibly the most dangerous. S/he had no proof, but s/he suspected there were plentiful reasons why animals should not like him. And so when the mouse went to him, and was even more friendly with him than it had been with her... S/he was not at all pleased.

Opluriko frowned a bit at the keeping this all quiet. Subterfuge was not exactly what s/he considered her forte. But s/he gave the tail flip that was a shrug and nodded. "So then how to we explain the time we're spending with you? That we really enjoy your stories?"

"No," he agreed with Flechette. "Neither are compromising my principles or giving up. Just because someone says I can't do something, doesn't mean I don't try. It's obvious modesty is also one of your lesser skills. I wouldn;t count on you not getting a scratch, even if I allow that you might win."

After the subject of keeping quiet comes up, he comments, "How do you suppose sneaking around with an axe every day is going to stay quiet? I think everyone's painfully aware, my skill at holdout of large weapons is as lacking as my modesty. I think perhaps, I might need to inform my parents of this, for it to work. And I will not lie to them about it, even should I decide not to tell them right away."

Peck notes Opluiko's surprise (at least he believes it to be so, though reading the face of a T'skrang is not always easy) but shrugs, for his opinion of the pair is more the other way about. "I did not expect much different from Laethwyr, and truth be told am thankful I do not have to put up with him around the forge," he confides in his oft-time companion, "but I believe Avahur has a decent streak within him, though he is easily lead by the rest of Urdon's cronies."

He frowns, pondering that. He's sure his own friends have got him into predicaments he'd rather have avoided ... though never with ill-intentions, which makes all the difference.

But the smile that sits upon his lips as he completes that thought is swiftly wiped clean by Jeanette's sobering words.  Stands to reason that if Adepts are real, then Horrors are too, though till that moment the young smith had not made the connection.

"Aye," he echos Yona's swift assent. "Though working at the forge, it should not be a problem - easily explained away as differences in technique."  At least he hopes so. The feeling of dabbling in something wrong is nagging at him ... but his thirst for that knowledge keeps those fears in check.

The windling gave Alia a sheepish smile.  "I, um, I meant to do that.  Yeah, totally." She totally didn't, and that is clear to everyone.

"So, you're going to teach us stuff?  That'd be awesome.  I can totally keep a secret, too!  It'll be just like planning out a prank.  You never want to spoil the ending before the fireworks start."

Alia didn't flinch when her cousin met her eyes. She wasn't going to go back to being meek Alia any more. Trailstare's shrug set her back a little bit though. "How soon before you can tell? "

She gave Laethwyr a defiant look. "You never want to dirty yourself with real work anyway."

Upon hearing that they should keep things hushed up, she nodded. " Maybe the best thing is to tell a little of the truth? They are teaching us. Just about some mundane stuff. I suppose I could be learning about herbs and stuff like that. Maybe the others could be doing similar things?"

"You don't really suppose anything we might want to be kept secret, will be, with them knowing, do you?" he asked, jerking a thumb toward the departed bully.

Alia thought about things for a moment. "Why should they? If they're learning or even think they're learning it will be in their best interest to keep things hushed up too."

He just shrugs, then mentions, "Not sure if Urdon can learn."

"I believe Laethwyr is easily misled," Opluriko countered quietly, as one of the gang was still here and s/he didn't want to be overheard, noting how Peck's thoughts were, like her own, turned toward their enemies. "I hope you are right, my friend, that Avahur has a good streak to him, but I suspect he is one of the worst..." For now s/he left it at that. If they wanted to chat about that later was one thing, but in front of strangers, and a gang member... well, that wasn't where s/he wanted to go right now.

"They do what's in their best interest. They'll keep it quiet, same as us," s/he said, tail-shrugging.

"Exactly," Flechette says, stepping over and draping an arm casually over Chaia's shoulder.  She starts to guide the younger woman towards the doorway.  "You and your friends will keep quiet because it's in your best interests...yes?"

The way she says it, it's as much a threat as it is anything to do with the offer to teach them anything also.  Chaia's face goes pale, and she just nods.  With a little push, Flechette sends her out after Laethwyr and Avahur.  "Make sure they know," she directs, and then turns around, not even watching as Chaia hurries after her friends.

"Mm, right," Tralistaire says, watching Flechette with the same faintly uncomfortable look he'd had when she started leaning on Kerric.  "Now that we're all alone..."

"At least, as alone as fourteen people all together can be," Jenette interjects.

"Er, indeed.  But now that we are, I must ask - how close are all of you?  These others that you warn us of are, it seems, a fairly...cohesive group, at least - you seem to consider them to be this Urdon's, and they appear largely to agree with that.  And we are, I may proudly say, an established group of adventurers, bound to each other by blood and magic, and known throughout much of Barsaive as Skel'cha'ach's Avengers!"  He pauses here and gives a sweeping bow, and it's easy to doubt that he ever says the name without the bow.

"But I daresay, I don't get quite the same sense from all of you.  You seem, well, aware of one another, but I imagine everyone in your town is more or less aware of everyone else.  Are you friends?  Are you known as Kerric's Crew, perhaps?"

Flechette wrinkles her nose.  "Alliteration," she mutters, disdainfully, and throws in a rolling of her eyes just for good measure.

"I wouldn't really say we're a group," Opluriko said, glancing at the others. "We've all had our own things to do, that didn't involve loitering. But we are all friends."

"I like that," he says, smiling. "Never could figure out something to rhyme with Kerric that wasn't stupid... But, yes. Friends. Perhaps we could be a crew, but I don't think we've ever really had the same purpose to unite us quite like this."