Alia shook her head slightly at Kerric's joke. "If we put down Urdon and his bunch, aren't we showing that we're no better than them? I'd rather we not really talk about them unless we have to. Aren't there other, more important things to talk of?"

Opluriko made a lot of sense, and she bobbed her head in agreement. When one of the strangers escorted the last or Urdon's gang out and pretty much threatened her, she raised an eyebrow. She certainly wasn't expecting one of the strangers to act like that.

She shrugged. "We are friends. Urdon's gang does what Urdon tells them. They're not friends, even to each other."

Yona watches with barely concealed delight as Chaia is escorted out of the building and, not to put too fine a point on it, threatened.  Not such a wonderful reversal for her, of course, but marvellous for those who have suffered at her hands and those of other members of Urdon's gang.

Now, looking around the room, she realises, with a start, that only those she would consider friends are still here.  And the strangers, of course.

"We are friends, yes.  Just not as well... organised... as Urdon's friends."  That part is, at least, true for her.  While she had never really been part of an active group of friends, she felt "safer" with the people in this room than with any member of Urdon's gang.

Even on those rare occasions when one of Urdon's cronies was talking to her in a reasonably friendly manner, she had always felt that she was balancing on a precipice and in danger of plummeting to her doom.  Not so with the people currently in the room.

"But we are friends.  Even if we don't have a clever name for ourselves."

"We all stand by each other," Peck adds.  As the others have said, they've never thought themselves a gang ... but while most of Urdon's cronies are with him out of little more than fear, this group of friends have just naturally drifted together.  To his surprise he realises that he far rather spend his free time with them than with any other in Karick's Bend, save for his family, of course.

"Friends, aye ... good friends." He grins at his companions, quite delighted at the revelation.

"Friends, then," Calisaren says, making it almost a pronouncement.  "And you?" she turns suddenly to Quendalaa, her fellow Windling.  "It seems everyone has found the beginnings of a fit but you, and while I do believe in coincidence, I believe far more in a pattern, especially when it is laid out before me.  Tell us about yourself, if you would," she asks.

The windling, normally outgoing, seems to wither a bit under the sudden attention.  "Um, I'm, um, Quendalaa, but you can call me Quen.  Or Dalaa."  Her wings buzz nervously for a second.  "I'm a hunter," she blurted with a bit more enthusiasm.  "We, the windlings, I mean, we have a proud tradition in the kaer.  We were the rat catchers and mouse chasers.  We didn't forget the ways of the hunt, because we lived them, even inside."

Llewendan walks over to Opluriko, and sketches a quick, startlingly formal bow.  "It was not the mouse's choice to make," he says, simply.  "It was a question of who responded to the mouse.  Not a large question," he notes, looking away for a moment, frowning.  "After the horse, but," the frown suddenly transforms into a bright smile, "All creatures great and small!  Yes, therein the question lay..."  He trails off again, and then shrugs.  "I am not so very good with people, I confess, although there are a few I think might make good pets.  If I may ask, do you have a favorite?  Can you describe them for me?"

----------------------------
Flechette watches Kerric silently, saying nothing, just staring into his eyes.  She takes out her axe again, and a leather strap, and starts slowly running it along the edge...

----------------------------

Calisaren smiles.  "A hunter?  Mm.  Interesting.  Follow me," she directs, wings blurring as she flits straight up...

----------------------------

Orm'gha addresses Mace'aurec in Troll. 

----------------------------

Tralistaire smiles at Alia, his tail switching lazily.  "I think you're quite right," he offers.  "There are, indeed, more important things to talk about.  If we are going to decide if your nickname is, shall we say, indicative of more than an insightful nature that clearly makes certain others uncomfortable, then we needs must explore the possibilities."  He holds up one hand, small fires dancing on the ends of his fingers; in his other, he holds a handful of small rocks.  "Where are you drawn?" he asks, moving both hands in a pattern.  He closes both fists, claps his hands together, and then turns them up, opening them slowly, holding cupped a double-handful of water.

----------------------------

Kira sits down on the wood pile, apparently making herself comfortable on the uneven, probably splintery, wood.  "So.  I've no doubt Smithing is in you, boy, and Weaponsmithy seems quite likely, and not only for Calisaren's prattle about patterns."  She pauses a moment, and then allows, "Not that Calisaren's prattle isn't valuable.  You've steel in you; in your eyes and your hands.  If it's in your heart and your mind, then the billows are like as much a part of you as your lungs."

She sighs a little.  "And here's where we annoy your Master.  Before I can teach you, I'll need to know what you've learned wrong.  No need to start mucking up his Forge just yet, though.  Talk me through it.  Say you've got a knife before you, one made to carve meat; it's got a nick halfway down the blade, the edge has dulled, but the steel is good, the handle stable."


------------------------------

Jenette takes Yona aside, speaking in a low voice.  "The path of the Thief isn't an easy one," she cautions, "But you're already on it, so I think you know that.  Even among friends, we're set apart.  People often don't trust us, and that's fair enough, but there's more to it than that.  It's in ourselves.  When you said you were your own, oh," she grins, "That settled it.  Every Thief is their own.  It's the first thing we take.  Remember it.  You belong to you.  Not me, nor your friends, nor your family.  What you learn from me, what you do with it, these choices belong entirely to you."  She stops a moment, and runs a bejeweled hand through her hair.  "You know all this, I know, but it's important enough to say anyway.  If only so you know I know it."

"Our Discipline is perhaps the most misunderstood of them all.  Illusionists are dismissed, Nethermancers feared, and I admit freely I don't understand Beastmasters one whit, but none are as distrusted as we are.  They don't understand that theft is an exchange, and one that enriches the so-called victims.  We take mere possessions, and leave behind freedom.  Growth.  Truth.  This ring I took from a young woman pushed to marry a man who beat her.  Thinking she had thrown it away, his family refused her, and her own thereafter.  She's now a rather successful adventurer on her own.  This one," she wiggles another finger, "I just liked."  She shrugs.  "Nobody's perfect.  Out of curiosity, which one do you like best?"

On the hand she's holding up, the pinky has a puzzle-ring.  The ring-finger has a plain ring with a faint inscription around it; above that, a ring made of twined bands of silver and gold, the silver plain, while the gold has a serpent-scale pattern.  Her middle finger bears a

  Her ring finger holds a simple silver band with some kind of inscription on it - it's too faint to read without really leaning in and squinting, but Yona's pretty sure it's a language she doesn't know anyway - and, above that, a ring of twined silver and gold with a serpent-like pattern engraved into the gold.  Her middle finger holds a rather gaudy ring with an emerald that could fairly be described as over-large, unless you're the sort who thinks emeralds really can't be too big - it's enough, in fact, that Yona can almost make out her own reflection in its main facet.  Almost hidden underneath that is a band of a dark metal set with red stones.  Finally, her pointer carries a ring with a pearl in the middle, and a different, small, gemstone at each corner of the setting.

  Just incidentally, it's the twined silver-and-gold that apparently liberated the young woman to a life of adventure, and the puzzle ring that she 'just liked'.

He watches Flechette for a bit, then says, "Might as well start at the start. I don't think stropping this axe would do much good, the edge has been gone for years. And no matter how good Peck is, it never seemed right to let someone else work on her, so she hasn't seen a stone since before I was born, I think. I kept it oiled and well enough, but- I would appreciate if you would show me the right way. If I'm going to be using her a lot, she needs to be taken care of proper-like."

Alia looked in awe when Tralistaire generated fire, stones, and water in his hands. A couple of times she looked like she was going to say or do something. Finally, near tears, she admitted "I can't pick! I hear them all call to me! I think I can even hear the plants calling me!"

Opluriko was far too focused on Llewendan to notice the pairing ups and conversations going on around her. She returned a bow, although it was probably not so formal. She really didn't practice that sort of thing much, and tended not to think about such things much - until she noticed others bowing around her. Her tail flipped to the side as she thought for a long moment, and she smiled as she answered, "I'm not sure if you mean a favorite person or a favorite animal?" But she shrugged. "I will assume you mean animals, but let me know if that's not true. My favorite animal is Jayme - the horse I rode; strong, enduring, willing to learn, straightforward, and just a bit playful. But I sometimes wonder if it isn't just that horses are the animals we're most accustomed to working with. I've heard stories of people who kept raptors for hunting before everyone was forced to the caverns, where the birds eventually died out. I've often watched a hawk who resides in one of the grazing meadows, and thought wouldn't it be awesome to be friends with an animal like that in the same way as being friends with a horse? So beautiful, graceful, quick, attentive, reserved, and never wasting a motion..." She trailed off, thinking, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of her neck. "But I've never met an animal that I didn't respect in some way. From the industriousness of ants to the beauty of butterflies, all have their ways."

Yona studied the rings, her expression thoughtful, "I like them all." she answered eventually.

"The green stone I like less than the others though.  This one... " she taps a nail against the ring with the faint inscription, "... could be interesting.  Or it could just be a recipe for soup.  The gold and silver one is cleverly made, and has a good story to it.  This one... this one I like best."

The puzzle ring.

"I would enjoy solving it, and then finding out how it works.  Discovering its secrets - the hows and whys of it."

Peck hangs on Kira's words, embarrassed by her praise, and keen to prove himself worthy of the gift she offers him.  But he is initially flumoxed by the simplicity of the question the orc poses, on top of his worry over that "what you've learned wrong" which leaves him doubting himself, though he tries not to let that show, sure that the way he responds is as much a part of the test as what he says.

"Use the honing stone," the young Smith answers Kira, "smooth out the nick by concentrating on just that one spot, then when that's done, rub it along the length of the whole blade to sharpen it.  Plenty of spit."  This last almost an afterthought.

Mace leans his head back, looking up through the open roof.  He speaks back to Orm'gha in their shared language.  [Language unknown: "Is osne ticivenot.  E whean vorta pl ourrednce hi leserelesrea, o nt whati ratsheble molasa.  Ei nawe n Enc thilesthuund ne trata etar."]

Flechette nods to Kerric, and, still without a word, shifts to settle next to him.  She takes out another stone, offering it to him, and then holds her own at an angle, so that he can better see what she's doing.  He can see his own reflection in the metal of her axe, distorting and reappearing as her arm glides across, shifting when she changes her angle a bit.


Tralistaire nods, tail flicking.  "Not the plants," he says, gently.  "Spirits within them; Wood elementals."  He lifts one hand, letting the water flow down into the other, catching all of it in the cupped palm, and then switches hands and repeats the process, making a small waterfall.  "All of the Elements have their place, and while there are Elementalists who follow one path exclusively, the strongest of us pursue balance."  As he says it, he lets the water fall, splashing onto the ground, and reveals the small rocks resting in his other hand again.  He starts juggling them, in a tight, figure-eight pattern.  "Water, earth, fire, air, and wood.  I, I confess, picture them as limbs on a body; arms, legs, and tail.  But that may not suit you..."  Tralistaire falls into a kind of lecturing mode, but it is at least half performance, all the way through - he's never a boring speaker, peppering the conversation with jokes, and never entirely holding still.


Llewendan cocks his head, hair trailing over his shoulder, and grins.  "I mean your favorite," he says, simply.  "I had a raven, once.  Different than a hawk, of course, and far different from a horse.  Ants, you say?  I cannot say I have ever worked with an ant - what do you suppose their perspective might be like?" he asks, interestedly.  He keeps talking, drawing out Opluriko's views on the views of different creatures, occasionally, almost accidentally, sharing some minor detail of his own.


Jenette laughs.  "Could be a recipe for my mother's soup," she suggests.  "Then it'd be both."  Then Yona chooses, and she responds with an "Ahhh," wiggling her pinky.  She slips it off, holding it out in her palm, split into three pieces.  "Why don't you have a look at it, then?" she offers.


Kira nods thoughtfully, and glances over towards Flechette and Kerric, engaged in their own sharpening.  "Now, you see Flechette there?  She knows what she's doing, you'll agree, but she's...thinking shorter term, I'd say.  She sharpens her blades for the next battle, because the next battle is where her mind is.  I sharpen for the next decade.  The next wielder, even.  Because my worry is for the weapon."  She takes out a knife of her own, but no stone, and holds it out towards Peck.  "Let me see your grip," she asks.


Orm'gha continues to speak to Mace in Trollish, looking up at the clouds.  Though his neck really must be hurting after a while, he never turns it back down, or works it side-to-side to alleviate the strain.  [Language unknown: "Ou, ol ofica onsno p ere intughtraure ou.  Namios, son, pr hi ineme u ca ounlinred Ughearday..."]  He begins to speak in a slow, poetic cadence, his already deep voice dropping to a rumble like rocks in a mine.


And Quendalaa and Calisaren flit through the rafters at dizzying speeds... until finally Quendalaa catches Calisaren, and the two tumble onto a beam together.



...And, one by one, each of you looks up.  And realize that it's beginning to grow dark outside.  Just barely beginning, but considering that moments ago it was mid-morning...  You feel remarkably clear-headed, though.  Not at all as though you've lost time, but almost as if you'd gained it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:02, Thu 04 Oct 2012.

Yona holds out her hand to Jenette, palm up, with the puzzle ring sitting in its centre.  Somehow she feels that the ring has not given up all of its secrets.  There are still things hidden within it, she is sure of that.

Or it could just be the slight disorientation caused by the change in the light.

"Thank you.  That was... a tricky one.  But enjoyable."

He watches, and tries to mimic the moves of the stone before putting too much pressure on. When he's sure he has it right, he starts bearing down, to really get a good edge. nope- that's not right either, taking too much off at once is bad. There. Just right, a few extra strokes because it's so dull, but that's the way of it. And flip it over, and try to match the count, sharpen it evenly on both sides. A bit of spit to keep it smooth... Get the right angle, it wouldn't do to sharpen an axe like it was a wimpy sword.

"What time is it?" he asked suddenly, realizing he couldn't have been sharpening this axe all day, or it would be a nub of steel.

Opluriko seems absolutely entranced by Llewendan. S/he listened carefully to all he said and answered truthfully, but quietly. S/he was so entranced that s/he forgot to really watch for anyone else, like the bullies, coming by. "Their eyes have so many facets, like jewels. Have you ever looked through a jewel? All the colors are distorted, all the images repeated. But they don't have ears, at least, near as I can tell. They must have terrific scent, to follow trails like they do, to find food like they do. And they get along so well - everyone working together toward the same common goal. Can you imagine what it would be like if a town worked toward the same goal like ants do?" But at the same time, she seems just a bit spacey, like there's something else going on in her head.  She looks up, realizing it is growing dark. She blinks in surprise, but doesn't otherwise seem bothered. Instead she turns to the elf and asks, "Do you want to ride? Now? As the evening rides the sky?"

Kira's knife is a thing of beauty.  The handle is not fashioned from rare wood, nor do precious jewels adorn it and the blade itself is plain steel, but in itself it is perfect, simply the best blade he has ever held.  Its edge not kept sharp with care and effort, but an intrinsic part of the whole.  A blade worthy of those heroes in the tales he loves.  No, it is not worthy of them, it is they who must strive to be worthy of it !

And then it is gone, lost in the realisation that the day is somehow all but done.  No, not quite lost ... even that little he ... saw ? felt ? has opened up a crack, a small glimpse at a world hitherto unknown.

Peck looks up at Kira with wonder and no little envy, "this is how you look upon a knife ... or an axe or a sword all the time ?!!"

In reply to Vestrial (msg # 193):

Alia listened and watched as Trailstaire goes through his patter. She's captivated by his performance/lecture, but in spite of her interest her eyes glazed over.


When she came to back to herself, she was crying, but they were happy tears. When she looked up she grabbed Trailstaire and hugged him. "Thank you! I think I understand a little more now."

It's only then that she notices how late it it. "Wow! It's really late! My father is going to be worried."

Llewendan's eyes light up.  "I would," he says.  Grabbing Opluriko's hand, he half pulls her out the door, with nary a `don't wait up' to his friends.

Outside, he whickers softly to Jayme, who snorts back.  He laughs, and smiles back at Opluriko.  "She says she will carry us," he confirms.  "Together, perhaps, we will weigh as much as Lamakal."

Lamakal is one of the T'skrang on the ranch - and he is, indeed, fairly large.  The T'skrang say that he's good with the animals because he eats like them.  But without giving Opluriko a chance to wonder how he can draw not just a general sense of agreement from Jayme, but in fact, an actual name, Llewendan is already swinging her around and urging her onto Jayme's back, preparing to climb up behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Thu 04 Oct 2012.

Inside, the other Adepts seem to have been caught up in things as well. Tralistaire glances up towards the sky, and Flechette watches Llewendan go out the door with a small shake of her head.

Jenette holds the ring on her palm only briefly before closing her fingers around it.  With a simple, single-handed movement, it's back on its finger.  "Well done.  Not everybody gets it their first try - you've got a knack for mechanics, don't you?"

Kira shrugs.  "Yes," she responds, simply.  "Weapons want to be their very best.  Not the way people want, or even," she, too, gives a glance towards the departing elf, "Animals, but it's there.  The same way, I think, that woodcarvers often claim they're simply setting free a shape that's already there."

Tralistaire smiles.  "I think you do," he agrees.  "And I suppose he will.  It is getting rather late.  It's probably best you all head home, or your parents are going to begin to worry we've eaten you."

Flechette laughs at that.  "Might just, at that.  Jen, it's your turn to cook, isn't it?"

Jenette glances over.  "Nope," she says.  "I did it three nights ago.  It's Kira's turn."

Kira snorts.  "Nice try," she growls.

Opluriko manages to remember to wave to her friends, but seems just as eager as the elf, suddenly, to get out of the building.

She blinked at surprise that Llewendan knew of Lamakal. She was beginning to understand how he could get sensations from the animals, far more than just standard empathy, but that was still boggling. But obviously, he did, and had gotten that from Jayme.

Nonetheless, she is too caught up in the moment to let these wonderings stop her. Instead she swings up with a practiced ease. She was going to take the back, as T'skrang had tails and elves didn't, but seeing how it was obviously that Llewendan was planning to get on behind her, she just held wrapped it around her waist. As mounting the hindquarters could be tougher than the front, she offered a hand to the elf, though she doubted he would take it.

She made no effort to direct Jayme - she suspected Llewendan was going to do the directing, continue the lesson, so to speak.

"Thank you," he says simply. "I suspect I will be having quite a long conversation after I return. I will try not to tell them, as you have suggested, but I will be telling them I plan on learning to use this axe. I will no longer be carrying under a cloak of secrecy."

He heads off, cloak on his shoulder, axe in his hand. He did not, after all, bring anything to carry it with, like a normal person might.

Peck simply nods, still caught up in the wonder of it all. "Tomorrow ?" he asks Kira hopefully.

"There's a... a... I'm not sure of the word for it.  But it's like when you know what a person is thinking, just by looking at them.  I've always had that same thing with things like your ring, and locks, and anything like that." Yona explains to Jenette, quietly, "I look at a thing, any thing with moving parts, and it speaks to me.  Tells me how it works.  Not in words though.  I just see it, inside my head."

"All the parts, moving just how they're supposed to.  Sometimes I even see them moving in ways they're not supposed to as well."  She smiles nervously.  This is one of her secrets, and she just gave it to a stranger in exchange for an offer of learning.

Llewendan, so far as Opluriko can tell, doesn't really direct Jayme, either - he just lets her run, and she does.  The trio gallop through the town, hair, mane, and tail streaming...  The mare carries them directly east, just past the town limits, where she can really stretch her legs.

----------------------------
Kira nods.  "Tomorrow," she promises.

Flechette watches Kerric leave, and then turns back into the room with a big grin.  "That's funny," she says, holding in a laugh.  "Looked like an ordinary cloak to me."  Tralistaire chuckles at her joke, while Kira snorts slightly and Calisaren rolls her eyes.

Orm'gha rests a hand on Mace'aurek's shoulder.  "Tomorrow," he says, echoing Kira.  "We shall meet again, and continue.  For now, you should return to your family."

And Jenette, leaning a little closer to Yona, just nods.  "Me, too," she returns, with a smile.  She seems to understand what Yona's offering.  "I always used to say they sang to me."

-------------------------------
Kerric, with an increasing sense of trepidation, returns home.  And not at all to his surprise, both of his parents are waiting for him.  Dinner is made, and on the table, but they're both standing, facing the door, when he opens it.  His father's arms are crossed, which is never a good sign, and neither one says anything when he walks in.