Don't scare him! Haha jk jk jk

*pokes 'sploded Kithy with a stick* Not much left there anyway.

BUT I do agree with Raven, hot tub RDINN machine should be a thing!

GET 'EM, OLAN!

I sea what you did there.

Am I here in time for the gas fire?!

The only active game I've got going on here atm is our KCandK, with a touch of HC-A when inspirations strikes.

Other than those I'm just a lurking lurker who lurks.

 you too cat buddy!

Glad you enjoyed, and thank you both for your input!

Hi there friendos! Hope you're doing well!

And, because it's stuck in my head now...

Dream On

TTYL

Kithran hummed softly to herself as she trotted along the road to Felarin beside Ch’dau and Aranwen. The tune was nothing she had heard or hummed before, and the melody hardly made any sense at all, but that was how most of her songs began. Her travels were normally quiet, solitary, save for the infrequent passerby here or there; very conducive to the formation and playing around with new tunes. Regardless of whether she intended to create something or not, traveling a long road always drew something out of her. It was a relic from the time on the road she spent with her father. If she wasn’t idly listening to him weave his wandering thoughts into song, then he was listening to her, or they were going back and forth as a game to build on some nonsensical tune one of them had started.

It was simply instinct now, but one that drew her back to the bladesinger’s song… her songs. They were different than anything Kithran had created. She hadn’t heard many Sylvari songs, at least not enough to distinguish their common elements, and she wondered how much of their traditional culture was intermingled with their bladesingers’ songs. Likely a lot, as was the nature of such things. Music, and art in general, were unique in how they could perfectly reflec--

“You’re staring at me, Kithran.”

Aranwen’s golden gaze met hers and Kithran jumped ahead of her, walking backwards and grinning, “Just making sure you’re not going to collapse again, Sylvari.” She stowed the journal she kept her melody notes in, and held her arms out in front of her in order to catch Ara if she indeed dropped.

"Not presently," Aranwen chuckled with a wry smile, "Being in full control of my body certainly helps."

Kithran dropped her arms, but her smile remained, “Actually, I was thinking about your song, your songs,” she corrected and hopped back to Ara’s side, “Do you bladesingers only sing while fighting, or do you sing just for the hell of it as well?”

Aranwen tilted her head a bit at the sudden question, "Well, that is up to the individual. Some only let their song be heard in battle, others sing more freely. Given that you're asking me," Aranwen smiled, "I do like to sing even without battle, though I still prefer to have my blade in hand."

“Oh yes, me too,” and she drew out her daggers, spinning them before her and tossing them back and forth, swiping and twirling them all while humming a cheerfully chaotic tune, and then resheathing the blades once more.

“Just kidding,” she grinned back at the Sylvari, “but you do have a nice voice, as far as I can tell. If you are ever feeling up for a song, you will have to let me know, blade or no.” Her expression darkened slightly in frustration, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had anyone to sing with, and as I am sure you can attest, it is far better to do with others than alone.” The grin returned and she pulled a dagger on the bladesinger, “So don’t hold out on me.”

Aranwen nodded, giving a warm smile, "I wouldn't dream of it, Kithran. It might take a few attempts to synchronize our songs, but when we do, I wonder how it will sound…" Despite sharing her bladesong duet one last time just the previous night, she would have been lying to herself if she weren't already missing it. And the way she saw the sparkle in Kithran's dark eyes as she talked of song, she couldn't help but wonder… if things were different, might she have been able to teach Kithran the bladesong? 

“My alto is perfection, Aranwen, so if we sound anything less than that, I would be very surprised. And you,” Kith pointed her blade now at the large cat beast, “with that rumbling baritone of yours, do you sing?”

Ch’dau had been enjoying Kithran’s antics and her conversation about singing with Aranwen enough that he found himself surprised by the thief’s question and he seemed to contemplate his answer for a long moment. “I doubt that it would sound as music to your ears, kibibi,” he offered, at last, “but, yes, Kazari do sing.” He gave a shrug, then, and added; “It is mostly done before battle… or, during the Gathering…” his turquoise eyes flitted in Aranwen’s direction, then, “...and like our Sylvari friend, here, hardly ever without a blade in hand.

Music on Capasha is much different than what I have encountered on Antaron’s shores,” the kazari admitted, then, “We do not have the many instruments that I have seen, here, for example. We have no… er… how do you call this?” The big cat pantomimed playing  an instrument he’d seen used by bards in many different taverns, one paw moving as if it held the neck of the instrument and the other plucking at phantom strings.

“Um…” Kithran’s face screwed up in brief confusion then, with a smirk playing on her lips, she asked, “is that supposed to be a lute, maybe?”

“Yes!” Ch’dau grinned, pointing at Kithran with a furry finger, “A lute! We have nothing like that. Nor the tiny lute that I have seen your minstrels put to their necks and drag a stick across their strings… I do not know the name for this, either…”

“A violin, perhaps,” Aranwen suggested.

“Perhaps,” the Kazari shrugged, “I have enjoyed the music I heard made with one but I have never asked what it was called.”

“Hmm,” Kithran began, pleased that he too seemed to have some interest in her favorite pastime, “I can pluck a few notes in some semblance of a melody on a lute, if one were to beg me, and I could make your ears bleed should I ever so much as touch a violin, but both are very lovely in the right hands.” She flipped her dagger back into its place, “I’d very much like to hear one of your… hmm, Kazari battle songs someday, if you’re ever in the mood to share. Or perhaps before we storm the next evil slitch’s manor?”

Ch’dau snorted out a chuckle at that. “I will see what I can do, Little Kitten,” he said, his ears twitching and tail dancing, “Kazari songs often require more than one voice, though, and are often led by the khan or khr’dun of the war-band. Sometimes there are even drums.”

“How fortunate for you, Kazari! We have a ‘curtain’ right here for you!” She raised her eyebrows playfully at Aranwen, “And I bring a drum wherever I go!” She stuck her stomach out and slapped it intensely and with very little rhythm for a few beats before taking a quick bow.

Ch’dau shook his head and smirked in response to Kithran’s antics. “There is not enough skin on that tumbo n’dogo to make even a small war-drum, kibibi,” he chuffed.

"Very well," she suddenly jumped in front of Ch’dau and took a boxer’s stance, “You are also supposed to teach me how to be as ferocious a fighter as you,” she threw a couple weak punches at the Kazari’s stone stomach, determined not to show either how hard she had actually tried, or how much she had hurt herself doing so. Still, she shook her hands before continuing, “Maybe we can do a pre-workout war chant, or I can teach you how to use those bass notes. I must warn you though, I am a very impatient teacher, but I also give up on students quickly, so just be perfect the first time.”

Laughing as Kithran’s blows pattered against his stomach, the Silver Cat looked curiously to the sky and held out a paw, palm up; “Is it raining, khatun?” he asked with a sidelong glance in Aranwen’s direction, “It feels as if it is and yet the sun shines and there is not a cloud to be seen.” He turned his paw over and reached it out to tousle Kith’s hair, then, and the half-Syl batted him away. “It sounds as if your method of teaching singing is much like my method of teaching combat,” he rumbled from behind his grin, “Mistakes are often costly, hm?”

Aranwen hid a giggle behind her hand as she watched Kithran and Ch'dau. The two together couldn't have looked more different, and yet, despite knowing they had only met recently, it felt to her as if the cat and the thief were long time friends. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Kithran replied to Ch’dau and hopped back to her spot to fix her hair. A few moments of silence passed, and she began humming quietly to herself once again. Though Aranwen offered no sound to accompany Kithran's tune, she was listening closely. The first step towards synchronizing songs was simply to listen…

Awwww, I love cats too! Thanks for sharing Tann!

::heart melt:: YOU'RE amazing, Rer!

too late!

Haha, you as well, Eol! I didn't really know what to expect when we started, and I'm not entirely sure what to expect from here on out, but I'm excited to continue exploring with you two and the characters you've created, whom I love love looooove.

Our collab doc is 175 pages, that's something!

"though I have explained it to you once, you still do not understand the meaning of ki’ja’kazi. I suppose I will have to stay with you until it makes sense, yes?"

will she ever figger it oot? Find out next time! See you, space cowboy!

Haha great post, Eol! I'm gonna miss our little friendo, but excited to see who we stumble upon next

Artichokey!

28^th Day, Ternoth Ore, 452 E.R., the forests outside Davnor, Sendria.

Their flight from Davnor had been as exhausting for Kithran as it had been exhilarating. While she had been disappointed they had decided to avoid the city proper, as well as a celebration with drink and someone to spend the night with, Kith was grateful to be on her way to return the whispering book. Aranwen certainly looked ready to collapse from the day, and the others, she imagined, were also happy to spend a quiet night in peace.

Sleep came surprisingly quickly for the thief. While on the road, she usually preferred to sleep against something. It made her sleep lighter, she was quicker to wake at suspicious sounds, and she felt better with something at her back. This night, however, as the others spoke in low tones around the fire, she looked up at the constellations Tara had pointed out to her all those years ago, as well as the ones she had learned since then, and soon found herself fast asleep.

“You’ve been so busy little one, and in so few years, at least in terms of your species... half of a Sylvari. You know you still have centuries left? You do not have to do it all at once.”

It laughed at her.

She took a step and the darkness that surrounded her burst like plumes of smoke into the Long Gamble. It was as crowded as ever, and Kithran was small. She was jostled, pushed, kicked away.

It was the Long Gamble but it wasn’t right. Her normal escape routes were merely paintings of the pathways that would lead her out. No one was looking at her, no one noticed her, no one helped her.

“You want a mother so badly, little one.”

Kithran stopped, the voice had changed, become more feminine, the echo of its booming voice stilling, “Who are you?” Her voice too was different, softer, smaller, unsure.

A hand reached under the table she had hidden, and she grasped it, knowing that it was Tara without needing to check. In one swift motion, Kithran was securely wrapped around the maiden’s back as she bounded through the patrons as though they were nothing, her blond hair bobbing in Kith’s face as they barged into the painting of the hallway along the western wall. The canvas tore apart but they fell forward and Tara disappeared, leaving Kithran to fall into the pool of darkness beyond alone.

The black pool engulfed her. She spun around, kicking her arms and legs toward the light she could still see through the broken painting, but the dark water pressed back on her, pulled her down and filled her lungs.

“No one will help you, little one. You are alone.”

She stopped struggling, she couldn’t any longer, and the light above her began to fade.

“I am… I’ve always been….” Her eyes began to fall shut, and silence, like the water she was becoming, swallowed her.

And then she heard a song. An old song. A familiar song. But she couldn’t remember where she had heard it from. The water continued to press and there was little consciousness left in her, no air left in her lungs… but that song was frustrating her. Did she know it?

It became louder and Kithran’s eyes opened. She couldn’t breathe but she didn’t need to anymore.

The water clashed around her, pulling her down, pushing her up, jostling her worse than the Long Gamble had, but she only wanted closer to that simple melody. It was above her, back through the painting. She kicked and the water pulled her, then swirled, fighting, spinning her around, jutting her back up in the direction of that song. She kicked again and another fight ensued, but she surged further. Over and over again she lunged upward, feeling fuller, warmer, happier, the closer she became, until finally the water spat her out, back through the painting.

But she was no longer in the Long Gamble. She was outside. This was Calestra; beautiful, beautiful Calestra. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the excitement, the mystery, the promise of the greatest city in all of Audalis.

Kithran woke gasping. She sat up, disoriented, one hand rubbing her spinning head and the other reaching for a dagger at the sound of people talking nearby. The low rumble of Ch’dau’s voice finally found its place in her mind as it settled, and she pushed herself up to join the kazari and the priest.

Her body protested at the movement, a bit more than she had expected, though she had taken a few decent hits from the night before. She was not used to fighting so many for so long. Her tactics generally included sneaking in, taking one or two out here and there, silently and by surprise; or simply running away very fast through a plethora of obstacles. She preferred the latter by a lot. Fighting the undead was not something she enjoyed, and she looked forward to never having to do it again.

“Good morning Kithran,” the Falloes priest chirped more brightly than she was capable of reflecting back this early in the morning, “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept alright,” she returned flatly, accepting the bowl he offered her. She had been about to ask him the same, but the sound of Aranwen tripping near the fire drew all of their attention. Kithran took a bite of her meal, but couldn’t take her eyes off the Syl. She looked ragged, somehow even worse than the night before, if that were even possible. Kithran watched her out of the corner of her eye as she ate haltingly, awkwardly, hardly the woman who had saved them that first night.

After they had eaten, Mosic went to the bladesinger, who argued with herself over the spell the Cidal priest spoke over her, until finally it was finished. Aranwen almost immediately looked different. She still looked sad and awkward, but her posture was more familiar, more her, as far as Kith had seen of her at least.

Eventually she spoke again and it seemed Aranwen, Mosic, and even Ch’dau had all known that there had been something strange happening with the bladesinger. Kithran had noticed her song had changed in Adedre’s mansion, but that her dead wife had taken over half of her mind?

“Tempted you to jump in?” Aranwen asked with a weak chuckle, but it was true. She had felt pulled to respond to the bladesinger’s song, but she didn’t know how to, and it was hardly the place to try. It had been just a minor distraction, but Kithran had never liked hearing only one side of a duet, even in practice. They were created to be sung together, it was just frustrating and empty otherwise. She truly wished she could have heard her wife’s part.

Aranwen fell back into tears, and once again Kithran was unsure what to do about it. It was uncomfortable sitting there as the others spoke words of comfort to her; and while she felt bad for the woman, there was nothing she could do to help her. Anything she could think of just felt hollow. In the end, she took her bowl and moved back to her bedroll to finish her breakfast.

As the morning wore on, the tears dried up, and their camp was put away, Mosic called for their attention, and cleared his throat as the three approached, “I would like to thank you for the adventure we went on together yesterday. While I hope to never experience something quite like that ever again, I am gracious to have lent my abilities as a conduit for the Helping Hand, to assist your missions, and to rid the world of that horrendous evil.”

“You saved our lives, Father, on multiple occasions, thank you for your help.”

“I am not a Father, Kithran, and I wish you would stop calling me that.”

“So you’ll be off then, Brother?”

Mosic sighed, “You are so much… Yes, I would like to continue to follow you three, as I am sure there is much trouble awaiting you on your path,” his eyes briefly met Aranwen’s, “but Falloes has called me to Davnor, and I believe I still have work to complete there. Thank you again, and safe travels.”

((OOC: Ara and Ch’dau’s goodbyes with Mosic))

As the Cidal disappeared on the path back to the road, Kithran turned on the other two, “Speaking of farewells, I don’t know what the two of you have planned next, but I am about to begin my journey to Felarin to drop off that book and collect my reward. I also have some errands to run there. If you are headed in that direction, you’re welcome to join.” She looked pointedly at Ch’dau, “We all saved each other from death multiple times last night, so we are even. As it says on that dagger of yours, your debts are paid. Don’t think you need to join me if you have other things to attend to, cat man.

And you,” she poked Aranwen in the shoulder and pushed, testing how sturdy she was, as she wasn’t quite exuding that bladesinger power Kith had been in awe of when they first met, “if you need to find some rest, or an actual physician, I understand. You two have both helped me complete an important task I had not realized I would have never been able to complete on my own.

So,” she said to them both, “what say you?”

Yeah, I was thinking the same thing too about Mosic.

@Saina: aaahhhh sorry, none of us are prepared to babysit. What does a child even eat? ... Where tf is your mother?!

Yeah, it's kinda tricky here. Sometimes I'm able to do a "copy image" and paste it in the box, sometimes I have to upload to Imgur and use the "Insert Image" option in the toolbox at the top of the comment box here.

What are we thinking regarding Mosic? Do we want him to follow us for a while longer? Should we dump him and roll a new NPC to play with? Have anyone in mind? What do you think?

Awww gouda luck, Eol! Officiating weddings is a blast. It always helped me to remember that no matter what, even if I flubbed, it was my friends who asked me to do it, and they'll be appreciative no matter what--they're more preoccupied with each other in that moment anyway haha as long as you can get them to the "I do's" that's all that matters

HI! I've been busy playing, training, and spoiling my new good doggo girl (@FrankieTheGoudaPit on Insta #ShamelesPlug), BUT I have been slowly working through my post to get us up and heading toward our next destination, so keep your eyes and ears out! Hoping to have it up by tomorrow *fingers and paws crossed* 

Oh man, what is wrong with people?! You tell your friends to follow your dog's instagram page and they go crazy!

*clear throat* Instagram: @FrankieTheGoudaPit

Frank seems about as spoiled as his Frankie sista from anotha mum and mista:

Especially around new friends haha

She's a cool 60 pounds.

A regal beauty, Odyson!

@Eol: thank you! She is so good with other dogs too, I bet Frank and Frankie would be best besties!

Hi there! I wanna see your pets!

This may be a not-so-subtle guise for me to show off the sweet baby girl I adopted today... but I DO want to see what kind of dragons and nifflers, and other wild beasts our Innmates have in their lairs

So let's see them!

I'll start us off

This is Franklin Gouda, aka Frankie G, aka Frankie, a 2 year old American pitbull.

I love her so much.

Let's see your fantastic beasts!

.