Only if it's an Iron Golem, for anything else she will, of course, follow the Bladesinger's orders.

Iron what-now?!

Kith is going to hide behind the largest cat in the room.

I'm planning on having Kith wake up a little bit before cat-hulk, so she can have a little tiny chat with Ara before the kitty litter hits the fan. I might reach out to you Reralae, for some responses and feedback.

But work, ya know, so if you get your post up first Reralae, Kith will just be understandably groggy, and a bit little leary at waking to a Syl tending to her wounds--likely thanking her for her help but trying to take over for herself.

She'd be up for a little bit of a convo too, whether about what happened and where she wants to go from there, what Ara's intentions are. She'll be brief with her, but also kinda hoping she can get a bladesinger to help her  Not sure how far they'll get before Ch'dau rages, but that's the gist of Kith's intentions for the moment.

Thought I might share some pictures of the tubby little barn rat who has influenced Kith's persistance, the sweet, fluffy little terror, Lettie (after the girl in Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman--one of my favorites from him). This kibibi is fearless, hopping to and from things she has no right to, but doing it for the nibbles, or to be close to someone. She gets bad FOMO.

The first pic is the little tubbo getting into the dog food
The second is her sopping wet after the 321654684th time getting sprayed for getting into the dog food. And still, she persisted. She wore me out that day, even though it hardly phased her.
The third is the sweet, precious, baby angel, light of my life being just that. She looooves the cuddles, and I love her.

Enjoy!

Good moooooorning!

No worries, it was a very light day all around because of those hacks AND the dishes weren't done when I got to work so I had no means of tea or coffee consumption. So it may have been for the best.

Instead of "Whoa there, cat-beast, take it down a notch, huh?", Kith might say something (similar but) more like, "Whoa there, cat-beast, easy, it's me. Kith good, remember?"

Yaaaawn, those dishes better be done.

Thank you, good sir.

May the stalking commence.

Ahaha, yeah, she'll be conflicted for sure. She's not a fan of the Syl, but she also already has a budding respect for what a bad ass fighter she is, plus Ara got them out of the shit. Kith is pretty utilitarian at her core though--who she gets to help her complete her tasks is not as important as just getting them to help her. Especially if they're a bad ass.

The best argument I've now come across for reactivating my FB for like, FIVE MINUTES is so that I can connect with you dudes on there and if the site goes down (this morning has been a doozy) I still have a way to throw cheese puns your way.

*accidentally cuts self 5 times while awkwardly whipping out new daggers* LITTLE WHAT?!?!

Also, Kith sleeps with a spray bottle at her side at all times, so this should be over pretty quickly.

Came here to say just that! Kithran, to the door with the lockpicks!

Everyone, please be ready to stab everything that jumps out at her, thaaaaaaaaanks.

RE: Upset Kitty: I am alright with any direction you're leaning. Whether Kith is awake or not when/if Ch'dau lashes out, she'll leap in the way of his rampage and try to calm him down before roaring too many times or breaking too many things--either way though I have a feeling she's going to be promising some gold for damages . . . all the more reason to take down an evil witch slitch!

On the bright side, they look bad enough for her to claim they were exhausted from saving SO many people the previous night.

RE: Backstory: I started one for Kith. Yay!

1st Day, Weitoor, 432 E.R., Calestra, Coria, The Gate of Marches

“You got it wrong again.”

“Oh, did I?” Randel Aldeath glanced back at his daughter, lounging in the shade of his covered cart as he steered them into Calestra. This was the grandest city in all of Antaron, as far as he was concerned. A beautiful, living, breathing city, so full of life and opportunity.

“Yes,” the seven-year-old didn’t even give him the dignity of looking up from her new Syl doll as she patronized him, “It’s supposed to go, ‘take me and my air, my heaven, my beat.”

“What did I say?”

She mocked him in the deepest voice she was capable of making, “Take me and my hair, my cousin, my teat.”

“Yes, but I created the song. Shouldn’t I reserve the right to change the words or tune as I go?”

She finally tilted her head as far back as it would go so she could glare upside down at his back, “No.”

He grinned, nodding to a busy passerby, “And why’s that?”

She went back to flipping the doll in various acrobatic movements, “Because it’s not fair.”

“Not everything is fair, Kithran.”

“I know . . .” the doll landed on its head on her stomach, “but I can’t sing with you if I don’t know the words you’re gonna use.”

He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right. That is a very good point. Alright, you win again my clever little peanut.” He heard he snicker at the endearment, “Once we’ve completed a song, we won’t change the lines, deal?”

“Deal, big peanut!” She giggled.

“You enjoyed that one, huh?” Randel glanced back again in time to see her and her doll nodding profusely.

“It’s much better than ‘sassy corn’.”

“Well, you were being a very sassy corn that day, I don’t know what else I was supposed to call you.”

Kithran jumped up and spun around, nearly tripping over her new blue dress as she did so, and grabbed onto the back of Randel’s jacket when the cart lurched, “I have never been a sassy corn!” Using her grip on his back to steady herself, she jumped up to sit beside him and was immediately distracted by the grandeur of Calestra, Quin’Aire, the Alabaster Castle, rising before them to the north, “It’s so big.”

He nodded, “And beautiful, huh?” Randel tugged the horses around a right corner and the impressive figure of House of Bells stole Kith’s attention for a brief moment, before another wonder came into view.

*   *   *

Her father always told her to stay near, but how could she be expected to think about what was near with the world of the Calestra marketplace open around her? Every merchant, every trader, every artisan, mercenary, mother, child, noble, everyone knew that you could find anything in Calestra, if you simply sought it out. Wares came not only from Coria, but from countries all across Antaron, even Sylvaria sometimes.

And so Kithran wandered, unaware of both her surroundings and how far she had stepped away from her father’s stall. Not that any of that mattered. Glass and gems glittered at her, dolls danced around her, and hawkers screaming pitches for their products above her. Calestra was the greatest city in the world, as far as she was concerned.

As she made her way through the swaths of locals and tourists, consuming the wares of the incredibly gracious merchants, a bright red glint caught her eye from a few stalls down. Kithran locked eyes with the item, and dodged through legs and angry adult swipes to a stall selling what seemed to be some fancy wines. The owner was busy with their customers, but it wasn’t the wine that had caught her attention. It was an intricate trinket, hanging with many others, on the side of the stall. The bottom half of the item was an awkward silver cone shape, but the top half was a ring of multiple red stars, all inlaid in a silver encasing.

It was beautiful. The most beautiful item Kithran had ever seen at least, and the half-Syl stall owner was still so busy. And so was her father, who would never even consider giving her the money to get something so lovely and rare anyway.

She looked to her left, and looked to her right, and when she was sure no one was looking, she reached for the item. As quickly as she could, she snatched the trinket from where it hung and shoved it into her pocket. Her heart raced, but she looked left and right again and the coast was clear. She had only to disappear back into th--

“Hey!” A young voice shouted from above her, and she looked up to see a much taller boy sitting atop the stall, pointing a long, sharp knife at her, “I saw that,” he squinted and as he leaned forward she saw his ears were long and pointed as well, “put it back now and I might not kill you.”

She raised her empty hands up in protest, “Put what back?” More afraid of getting into trouble with her father than the boy’s threats, she glanced around. It was still mid-afternoon, the sun was high and the market pathways were crowded, “I haven’t do-” she jumped back into a particularly dense group of people and sprinted off. Dodging more legs, more wayward swipes, and the calls of people she left behind, Kithran slowed after a minute or two. Huffing for breath, she reached into her pocket, pulling out the multi-starred trinket . . . the twelve-starred trinket. It was going to look so nice at the head of all of her other secret trinkets.

“There you are!” The same lanky, red-haired Sylvari boy appeared before her and Kithran hopped backward in surprise, shoving the trinket back into her pocket and catching herself on the skirts of a woman behind her. The pale boy eyed her high and low, noting the irregular bumps in her pocket and pointed the large dagger at it, “Come on now, girl. Give it up.”

The woman Kithran had run into pushed her aside and looked down at the young Sylvari, “And what is going on here? Put that weapon away boy, look around here. Do you think your master would be happy to know you’ve injured a patron, or any of these potential patrons? You’re wearing his crest, for gods’ sakes.”

The boy’s violet eyes narrowed as they turned their search on to the woman and the two attendants on either side of her--both of whom carried full new bottles of Cinderfell’s Red Wine, the fiery waterfall crest of his master’s there plainly on either bottle. Sudden recognition cleared the irritation from his face and he sheathed the weapon, coming to a rigidly straight position and bowing before her, “I sincerely apologize for the trouble, ma’am, I truly wish you no harm, and my master would surely punish me should I have brought any discomfort to you in the least,” With his head down, Kithran slowly attempted to back away behind the kind woman, but a scarlet-clad hand kept her in place, “That child has taken an important trinket from my master’s stall, I wish only to return it to him.”

“Please, child, stand up straight and look at me when you speak. Good.” She turned to Kithran, “And now you. You’ve been lucky enough to be spared this boy’s blade, empty your pockets.”

Kithran’s small face scowled up at the woman swathed in red, and was still unable to run away. The lady was gripping the back of her collar so tightly. Instead she looked angrily back into the Sylvari’s strange violet eyes and shoved her hands down into her pockets, but there was nothing there. She looked down and didn’t see the trinket anywhere, but turned her pockets inside out all the same.

“See?” The woman said, "you must have been mistaken."

The boy scowled this time and took a furious step toward Kithran, “Why did you run then?!”

She looked down, “You scared me.”

The woman watched the boy visibily deflate, but before she could say anything to diffuse the situation further he took another, lighter step forward and put his hand on the little girl’s shoulder, “I am sorry, I guess I must have been wrong. I don’t know how to make it up to you but, I guess, if you ever come by the stall again I’ll get you a new wine bottle plug myself! Is that okay?”

Wine bottle plug? Kithran was glad she was looking at the ground, because the look of confusion on her face would most certainly have given away her deceit. Instead she just nodded.

The boy stood again, “Okay, good. Ask for Castien. Or Cast, I guess, if you must.”

“Thank you Castien,” the woman replied, “I’m sure our little friend here would love to take you up on that some day. What is your name, girl?”

Kithran looked up again, the hesitation in her voice now becoming real and not just an act, “Kithran.”

“And I am Tara Ikhari, a Laughing Maiden of Shinara.”

Cast’s eyes grew wide for a moment, before bowing once more and taking his leave. Kithran too had attempted to slip away, but the Shinara maiden still had a grip on her. Before Kithran could say anything however, Tara crouched down beside her and pulled her stolen . . . bottle plugger thing out of her sleeve, “Kithran, darling, do you believe in luck?”

Kithran’s attention was engulfed by the majestic item, and she slowly reached for it as Tara slowly drew it away from her, “I dunno, yes.”

A grin touched the side of Tara’s lips, “Very good, because she seems to believe quite a bit in you.” As Kithran grasped for the item, Tara flicked her hand down, easily dodging her advances, and padded her on the nose with the cone of it.

Thrown off-balance for a second and almost falling into the rose-colored Maiden, Kithran caught herself and glared back up at her.

Tara laughed and held the stopper upright, presenting the ring of the twelve red stars. Kithran grasped at it again and caught nothing but air as Tara flipped it to the side, and then back up again, “This is the symbol of the goddess of luck, Shinara, of whom I am a Laughing Maiden.” Dodging another of the little girl’s swipes, she chuckled and tapped her on the forehead with it this time, “Persistent, aren’t you?”

Kithran stood back and Tara could see her eyeing her escape in lieu of her failure to procure the lovely wine bottle stopper. The Maiden held out her hand, letting the stopper rest free on top, “The Scarlett Mistress has looked favorably on you today, Kithran, and I am sure it will not be the last time.”

The little girl’s black eyes were skeptical as she stared at the trinket in Tara’s hand. She reached out, slowly, and the palm stayed put. In a flash she snatched it free once more and hopped back so that the annoying woman would not be able to take it again. She wasn’t entirely sure how the lady had gotten it in the first place.

“If you’re ever feeling lucky, or are ever in need of some, the Long Gamble will welcome you as one of their own, as long as you carry that pendant on you.”

Kithran looked down at the silver prize in her hand and her hopes lifted, “I thought this was just a thing for wines?”

“That is, yes,” Tara stood, “I am, of course, speaking of the pendant on your lapel, darling.”

The girl looked down to find a more intricate, more finely designed version of the red ring of stars encased in silver attached to her lapel. These stars were not the uniform red of the stopper, but each a different shade, from the lightest pink to the deepest, darkest crimson.

“I hope to see you there soon, darling,” and with that the Laughing Maiden faded into the crowd, leaving Kithran to try to figure out how to get back to her father’s stall on her own.

She really should have stayed near, she decided.

Luckily, she found him before too long.

When I first read the name I just had that thought of, "ah, that's sort of similar to Kith! Cute," but I didn't think at all of it being purposeful until this last post and then my mind was a little blown by the realization 

No worries, as I said before, I have a supplmental back-background Kith post in the works too. Take your time. I'm looking forward to all the things!

Kithran had just found her feet again when she looked up to see the large Kazari bearing down on her.

Her hands flew up in front of her, “W-wha . . . ???” But there was no slowing his momentum. In one swift motion she was off of her feet and the two of them were flying through the window. Her stomach leaped as she grasped onto him, his arms securing her to his chest. The ground rose rapidly beneath them for just a second before it hit them with a violent thud and the world disappeared.

Wake up, Kithran, The smell of burnt out candles and a soft, sweet musk filled her nose, Time for you to go home, my lo--

Kith’s eyes flew open and the world spun around her as she took in a deep breath of fresh air. She was being pushed up, but kept slipping out of their grasp. Finally catching herself on a silver chest, she heard Ch’dau brokenly ask for her to be taken away. She painfully brought her knees up beneath her and wood was splintering somewhere high and loudly behind them.

“Can you stand?” Kithran turned her black eyes up to the woman, the Sylvari woman, as she tried to make the words make sense, finally nodding back at her.

“Then help me with him!” The woman shouted and Kith looked down at her friend, “You take his right side, I’ll take the left. By Adaron’s grace, the path to the front gate should be clear as I left it.”

He looked broken, nearly gone, for her. Her legs shook and the world shifted as she stood, lifting his arm up with her to help tug him up.

"Not like that," the Syl corrected in a hurriedly commanding way, "Here, follow my lead." And some of the haziness seemed to clear as Kith watched and emulated her, "Now, lift with your legs," And together they brought the heavy Kazari to his feet. The struggle to keep him upward on her weakened legs swathed away the rest of her confusion and replaced it with irritation at how massive his frame was.

"Up you get, warrior. I won't relinquish you to death."

Another honorable type. Though she couldn’t complain too much, as this honorable type was ushering her and Ch’dau out of the reach of that horrific abomination. She noticed then the deadly sharp knife swinging loosely in his fingers and snatched it away before it was lost.

"When we get to the front gate, I'll get the guard there to let us back out," And Kith sincerely wondered how she would manage that, considering they had the witch’s prize, "I can't believe you two are still able to move at all, judging by the amount of blood on you. Just what happened here?"

Kithran spoke quickly between heavy breaths and the strain of the feline around her shoulders, “The witch, necromancer, she was, was torturing him, I think. I found him in a cage and we’ve been pursued by her undead monsters” she glanced back behind her, “like that thing, as well as her guard. Do not trust them to let us go easily.”

The elven woman nodded and looked up at Ch’dau, "And you . . . Hm, Silver Cat? I see your reputation is well deserved.” Kith gave her a look of surprise, but any elaboration would need to wait until they were free of the witch’s grasp, “We need to treat both your injuries as soon as we can, but I'd sooner do that outside of this skeleton-infested household than within. That said, we need to stop."

The woman nodded at Kithran, before kneeling once again, "I can feel blood seeping through my shoulder armour. Take the small satchel out of my bag. There should be wrappings in it; take them and bind his wound as best you can. We need to stop the bleeding."

Kith did as did as she was told as the woman worked to keep him conscious. She truly only had experience treating her own wounds, but there had been plenty enough for her to try to manage on another--with the Syl woman’s helpful direction along the way. The frustration on her face that they could not do more, eclipsed only by the urgency to get far from here and fast, the Sylvari motioned to Kith to get back in place to lift him once more and head for the front gate.

A guard inside the gate doors spotted the mottly three immediately, and wasted no hesitation, “They’re here! They’re here!” He drew his sword and raced toward them, the guard on the outside of the door slipping in for back-up.

The armored woman lifted the large Kazari arm off of her shoulders, and helped lower him to the ground. Kith stayed knelt beside him, “I apologize, I may not be much help here, can you manage?”

((OOC: Aranwen being cool))

And with that the Syl sprinted to meet the guards.

Kneeling, Kith kept her hands poised on the hilts of her daggers, the spare and the one she had given Ch’dau back in their places.

A solemn song suddenly filled the air as the warrior and the first guard met. Kithran’s gaze flicked to the Sylvari alone, a bladesinger? She had heard about bladesingers, and sometimes a companion would point to an armored passerby and claim that they were one, but she had never seen one in action and she wondered if all were like this. Graceful, precise, never wavering in her tune or her attack. Kithran watched in admiration at the bladesinger’s quick work with the first, and lent her hand as the second finally approached, lodging a blade into his knee and allowing the woman to finish him off as he fell.

Kith already had Ch’dau’s arm around her shoulders by the time the Syl returned, “That was incredible.”

Together they made their way into the streets of Davnor, still helping Ch’dau, though he seemed to be able to get his feet under him a little better with each alleyway they put between them and the clutches of the Undolithe estate. They eventually found themselves resting against a building in one of those alleys, attempting to find some breath before moving forward.

“Have you any quarters in town, Bladesinger? I have a place close to here if we need it. It should work for now, but it isn’t great.”

((OOC: Assuming the negative))

Kith nodded and pushed herself off one wall and into the door on the other side, fumbling with the picks hidden in her armor, “My place is very close, I should say.” With little effort the door swings open to a few stone steps leading down into a dark cellar. She swayed a second at the realization that sleep would soon be upon her, but shook her head for now and turned back to the other two and the bladesinger’s mixed expression of question and strain.

The three gingerly made their way down into what the others could now see was a wine cellar. Kith lead them to a wall with a thin mat against it, and she and the Syl lowered Ch’dau onto it. She then trudged back to the door and made sure it was locked, lowering a wooden bar in place as well. When she turned back only the question remained on the woman’s face.

Kith leaned back against the wall and slid down next to Ch’dau’s head, “When I first arrived in Davnor, I needed a cheap place to stay, so I stole several of the most expensive bottles of wine from this cellar, stashed them quickly, and then returned to the storefront as a customer.” She took out the dagger she had lent to Ch’dau and examined the worn handle as she spoke, “As you can imagine, they were in a bit of disarray, why, they had just been robbed of their retirement plan! Well Shinara’s favor shined down on them that day because I just so happened to work in finding things and people, at a price or for a favor.” She untied the sheath at her hip and continued, “Long story short, I took care of those who had wronged them and returned their prized possession. I am truly kind, you know. And they were so happy, they offered me the world, but a humble traveler and smile-finder like myself, I simply needed a place to stay. They couldn’t offer much, but it’s Sendrian home. I must simply remember to put the bar down when I am here for the night.” Kithran placed the sheathed weapon on the Kazari’s chest. Whether he was conscious or not was a mystery, but he was alive and she was grateful.

((OOC: Ara’s response, if any))

She tilted her head back against the stone and closed her eyes, “I apologize, bladesinger, I cannot stay awake much longer. Thank you, for--” a big yawn muffled the rest of her words and as her head began to tilt into sleep, she mumbled, “Ah, you may call me . . . Kithran . . . or Kith . . . if you must.” And she was gone.

I thought the door was through the archway. If they're in the same place, Kith will check out the door first.

No touchy this time though.

It's in my blood. I am a brie-bles, after all.

I will be drooling over both.

Hmm, maybe I should swiss tactics

You cheddar believe it.

That's a muenster-ously good joke!

If we're doing battle stances, hood up and in a semi-crouched position, daggies out.

If we're normal-stancing, hood down, high but loose and messy ponytail, standing up straight, maybe flipping a dagger around in the air, the other hand on a hilt. If not tossing a dagger, both hands on the hilts of her sheathed daggers.

Do it! If you don't, I'll have to do it, and they will all be malnutritioned stick figures! Is THAT what you want for Ch'dau?!

Now that I'm thinking about it, I may do it anyway for the lulz, to be honest.

I like the handle of the first (though would need to be straight and not curved), and the blade of the second.

Facebook? That is a name I have not heard . . . In a very . . . Long . . . . . . . . . Time.

What's the joke?!