Old Steel from which to forge new beginnings!

I'll see what I can do about getting a post started of Ch'dau and Ara arriving in Meadwobrook, shortly.

...if I shroud mine, it's with rum. Sometimes I even surprise myself!  

And if you time it right, you can watch your collaboraters' thought processes as they type! 

Much win!

13th Ternoth Ore, 453 E.R. – Late Morning
The Outskirts of Calestra

Ch’dau and Randel had walked in silence along the road leading out of the city for some time. At one point, though, Kithran’s human father had begun to speak, asking the unassuming question here, making the random observation, there, and, before long, he and Ch'dau had fallen into an easy banter. Though it was assured that Randel had more than one question regarding his estranged daughter and Ch’dau, too, had just as many, the subject was rarely broached. They spoke of hunting and fishing and spices and trade. Only a smattering of times in the time it took to walk from the city to the hill did Kithran’s name ever come up and, each of those times, it was because some of their other words had sparked a memory of her. Ch’dau had actually delighted in some of Randel’s anecdotes about his “Little Peach” just as Randel had marveled at the exploits of Ch’dau’s “Little Kitten.”

…”And she always hated when I called her that!” they unintentionally chorused near the end of each story.

As they neared the top of the hill, Ch’dau went silent and his eyes began roving about the fields and forest that cradled Calestra…

As if searching for something, Randel suspected, or expecting it. At that thought, the man fell silent, too, and mimicked the kazari’s watchfulness. He was almost disappointed that, when some half a mile later, nothing more had happened than Ch’dau suddenly veering from the road and making for the forest.

Then again, he thought, and given the tales he’s told, I suppose I’m happy about that.

…”We camp just ahead,” the kazari’s voice broke Randel from his musings.

His vision cleared, then, and he looked up from the nether point into which he had been staring. A short way ahead, huddled beneath the fringe of the forest, was a simple cart, a pair of mules, and, just beyond those, a small tent and the remains of a fire. Beyond even that, just a few feet deeper into the woods, a Sylvari woman knelt, weeping and wailing mournfully as she stabbed a broken stick into the ground over and over again. The sight gave Randel pause, of course, but the Kazari’s massive paw thumping into his chest stopped him completely.

“A moment,” Ch’dau rumbled when the merchant’s eyes lifted to meet his, “please.”

“O… Of course,” Randel nodded. He watched as the Kazari strode for the campsite, pausing only long enough to toss the supplies he’d brought back into the cart before making his way to the bereaved bladesinger.

The Silver Cat crouched down next to the woman, gently gathering her up in his arms even as she fought against him. “Breathe, m’penzi,” he purred, prying the stick from her hands and tossing it away, “Hear my voice. You are not there. You are here…”

The Syl seemed to blink in recognition, then, and while she still sobbed, the tone of it became softer and the screams of grief and rage filtered from it as she buried her face in the cat-man’s chest.

“…Hear my heart beating for you,” Ch’dau sighed softly, clutching Aranwen to him, “Feel the ground beneath us. Breathe. You are here.”

She seemed to collapse into him after a few more moments of his tender coaxing and, as she did, her sobs diminished all the more. The Kazari cradled her and continued speaking but his tone, too, was now so soft and low that Randel hadn’t managed to actually hear his words.

Another few moments passed before Ch’dau looked up from the oaken-haired Syl in his arms and turned his eyes toward the awaiting merchant. The cat-man gave a short, assured nod, and, at that, Randel straightened his tunic, drew in a steadying breath, and made his own approach. 

Aranwen tensed in Ch'dau's arms as she saw the stranger approach, her eyes looking to the man's shoes first. Well kept and well made, not very travelled. She looked upward, until she saw the man's face. As her muddy, golden eyes looked to his brown, they focused, looking across the man's features. Then they widened in recognition, just for a moment. But as recognition dawned, her face fell.

"You are…" Aranwen whispered, before she gave a deep sigh. Slipping from Ch'dau's embrace, she fell to one knee before Randel, her head bowed as she awaited condemnation. 

Ch’dau had spoken partially of the Sylvari woman, in the tales he told as they made their way to the campsite. He spoke of her strength as a leader, drawing those around her closer to each other in order to boost one another on the battlefield and in their everyday; he spoke of her grace and wisdom as a warrior and counsellor; and he spoke of the love and care she gave the Kazari and their “Little Kitten” everyday.

The latter was most evident now, as he stood before her, her red-rimmed eyes cast down in the guilt and horror that consumed her. Randel’s heart poured open for her.

The tall merchant dropped to a knee just in front of her, and cocked his head down, trying to find her eyes once again, “I am Randel Aldeath, Kithran’s father.” He began low, tentatively reaching out for her shoulder, ready to snap his hand back once again if she denied him, “And I believe I owe you the world, for being her mother.”

Aranwen shuddered, shaking her head as a hollow laugh left her lips, "Me?" her head tilted up, her golden eyes focusing on the man in front of her, "I am no mother. Would a mother lead her child into darkness, that it would consume them?" she snapped, "What I have done… I have done worse for her than that one who left."

Aranwen's voice fell, her face tilting to the ground once again, and she whispered, "Besides, she was never fond of Sylvari…"

A faint chuff escaped the Kazari, at that, and he offered a shake of his head. “She was fond of you, though, Ara,” he rumbled softly, padding a step closer to where Aranwen and Randel knelt, “and, like me, she followed you of her own free will.”

A memory came to Aranwen's mind in the haziness of her despair. The first time when Kithran accepted her touch. And she thought of when she took the steps into the damned den of the cultists, Kithran just in front of her, but with Aranwen ready to intercept any attack that came at them. At least, what she wished was any attack. 

"I know, melamin… I know you both did," Aranwen murmured, "For my part, I made a promise to protect her, even if I never spoke of it to her. That oath is…"

She took a shuddering breath, "And yet…" she looked up to meet Randel's eyes, "You, the one who raised and still care for her, you hold no rancor against me?" 

“How could I? You’ve willingly walked through hell for her, and I’ve no doubt that you would do it again.” And the pain he had been living with himself, that had settled in him, never to give him peace, suddenly rushed forth, and his own eyes dropped to the ground, “If not for me, you wouldn’t have had to feel this pain, Aranwen, and I am sorry for that.” His free hand went to his face and his voice filled with emotion as he continued with the grief that had haunted him, “If I had been a better father, paid more attention, protected her better, maybe then she wouldn’t have left me. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost her. I didn’t even know where . . . I didn’t know why . . .” His voice trailed off and his head fell lower.

Aranwen tilted her head, “She has always strived to walk on her own two feet. You allowed her that which she wanted - freedom and independence,” a chuckle escaped her lips, one holding warmth that she almost seemed unable to provide, “Perhaps she looked more grown to you, but to my eyes, she was still as a child in many ways. Children will always choose the path that draws their eye, no matter how dangerous that path truly is.”

I only hoped to protect her on the path she walked...

He nodded, his face still in his hand as he regarded one of the only beings in all of Audalis who might understand what he had been carrying inside himself for so long, “I just wish I knew why.”

After a moment Randel wiped his face and took several long breaths, meeting Aranwen’s eyes once again, “I don’t know all of your pain, but I see much of mine in you,” he paused, trying to find his thoughts, and placed his other hand on her other shoulder, “One of Kithran’s best and most exhausting traits has always been her persistence. If you’ve spent more than a minute with her, you know this.” A smile touched the corner of his mouth, the way it often had touched hers, as his eyes faded into the memory of his daughter, “I have no answer to what might lie ahead of you Aranwen, I don’t know what your path will look like, what will begin to ease the grip this pain has on your heart, but please, take this lesson from her. Keep persistent. Just keep persistent.” And Randel leaned in to embrace the Sylvari woman.

Aranwen flinched at the embrace, at first, still wary in spite of the warmth she could otherwise feel coming from the man. But, after that initial response, that initial reaction, she began to relax, “I will... try,” She murmured, closing her eyes as she leaned into the embrace. And in feeling the genuine warmth from Randel, the father who she was all but certain would have wished her life in exchange for losing his daughter’s, the tears she shed were of relief, rather than sorrow. In the depths of the shadows that shrouded her broken heart, the embers that had all but ceased to burn began to give a faint glow.

Ch’dau watched for a moment, his heart warming at the scene that played out under the trees around their humble camp. A satisfied purr reverberated in his chest and, as Randel and Aranwen embraced, the Kazari padded quietly away, returning to the cart in order to properly tend to the supplies he had brought back. 

It is good, he thought as he climbed into the back of the cart, that they have met… that Ara has heard those words of comfort directly from the Little Kitten’s father.

He crouched down, opening the packs he and Randel had carried back from the city, and began sorting through the contents of each and relegating the provisions to their proper places in the few small trunks that lined the cart’s low sides. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he came to realize that there was less here than the weight of his coin-purse might have suggested when it had been returned to him and, remembering the chocolate streaks that had ringed the mouths of Danny and Chora upon their return, shook his shaggy head. Just like their sister, he purred to himself. They likely kept some of the coin, as well, before I had even offered it.

He grinned, in spite of the children’s trickery, and, as he stowed a bundle of turnips and other vegetables into a crate, turned to glance back at where Randel and Aranwen continued to converse. His gaze flitted away from them, then, and tracked back in the direction of the city for a moment before lifting skyward to check the position of the sun. Oh, kibibi, he sighed inwardly, if only you were here to see this… To see the love for you that is held in the hearts that truly adore you for who you are and not what you can offer in service to some misguided godling…

His purring was interrupted by a sharp lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, and he snorted in vague irritation as he swallowed it sharply down. “I hope that when I find you,” he grumbled under his breath as he forced his attentions back to tending their provisions, “that nothing keeps me from bringing you back here to meet your brother and sister.”

Soon enough, the supplies had all been transferred from the sacks and into their appropriate places in the back of the wagon. The Kazari had kept enough food out, though, to prepare a meal for three and, after securing the crates, climbed out of the cart and padded back towards the embers of the camp’s fire with those things nestled in the crook of a furry arm. He stoked the embers to new life, piled on a bit more kindling, and hung a pot of the rejuvenated flames before settling down beside the fire to peel and chop vegetables and a slab of fresh meat for the stew he would prepare. All of this, along with a splash of wine and a healthy helping of water were poured into the pot before, once again, his gaze tracked to where Randel and Aranwen sat talking.

“Forgive,” he called to the pair, stirring the stew with a wooden spoon as it began to bubble, “but I doubt, Aranwen has eaten since I left this morning and, Randel, I am almost as certain that you must be hungry following our walk back from the city. Come. Eat.”

The party gathered around the stew the silver cat had prepared for them, and shared the meal and light talk as the afternoon waned. To the Kazari and Sylvari, the merchant seemed almost immediately at ease amongst them. Though this was likely in part due to the pain and loss they shared, the familiarity he brought to the pair’s small group was nigh unsettling. For Randel, it was no wonder Kithran had found these two--a mythical creature and a legendary bladesinger? Of course, you lucky little peach, of course. He could only wonder whether her awe or excitement outweighed the other.

Their meal coming to completion, Randel’s dark brown eyes found the bladesinger’s striking golden ones once more. While she had been silent most of the time, he was grateful she did not feel the need to shrink away from him again, “Can you tell me, Aranwen, and I apologize for my lack of education here, but do bladesingers reserve their singing voices solely for the battlefield, or are they able to sing for the hell of it as well?”

The tips of Aranwen’s lips curled into a soft smile, “Well, that’s up to the individual,” She spoke, her voice still soft, but far less wispy than it had been, “Some only sing with their blade, others sing as they wish. For myself, I like to have blade in hand, even if only to dance with it in a moment of peace, rather than battle...” she grew a bit silent, holding one hand to her chest.

Randel smiled, “I am happy to hear it. Music is a Corian staple, whether one can find a key to hit or not. Kithran and I used to sing together to pass the days on the road. We would make songs together, or create them on our own to share with one another.” He set his bowl down and leaned forward, his smile beginning to tug hopefully at the corner of his mouth, “I was wondering if it would be too much to ask for you to share a song from me, once you find her, to let her know that I love her, and have never stopped thinking of her? Are you able to do that for me?”

Aranwen’s own smile faltered, “I cannot promise,” She replied, “I haven’t been able to sing in… a while...” She averted her gaze, "Not since…" the last stand. Her last song. A song cut short by spell, before she could put an end to the priestess. She shuddered where she sat, her golden eyes misting over. It was something she did miss, but she hadn't felt able to.

“I cannot promise,” She repeated, weighing each word as she spoke, and finding a hint of hope in them, “But I will… try…”

Ch’dau’s eyes widened a bit and danced expectantly between Randel and Aranwen. He hadn’t heard her sing in what seemed like an eternity. Now, at the behest of this man with whom they shared a love and a loss, the kazari’s hope of hearing the sound, again, swelled. 

“Thank you.” He straightens his back once more, the merchant’s smile faltering just a little, “I began working on this years ago, shortly after realizing . . . well, you know.” He breathed a heavy sigh, “It became a mantra of sorts, in my darkest times, and eventually it became a comfort in and of itself. It was all I thought and felt for my daughter. There are no words, simply the tune. I will sing it as many times as you need. Are you ready?”

At the bladesinger’s small nod, Randel cleared his throat and closed his eyes, imagining the first note in his mind before he began. The song began low, soft, simple. The notes were deep but light, easily falling into one another to create a string of melody that built and rose in tempo and key. Randel’s brow furrowed above his closed eyes as the song met its apex, the time kept the same throughout but the notes and their connections coming quicker, falling earlier until finally they declined back into their comforting tones. The beat steadied and warmed, and eventually came to an end. Randel took another deep breath, before finally opening his eyes back to the two across from him, “What do you think? Will you be able to share that with her?”

As Randel sung, Aranwen’s eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to commit the melody to memory. Though she didn’t watch, she held her right hand beside her, its movements following along and measuring each note and its placement upon the scale. At the conclusion, she opened her eyes, “One more time, please,” She requested.

Once again, as Randel sang, Aranwen followed the song, concentrating intently on the notes and the rhythm of the melody. This time, however, rather than just her hand, Aranwen followed the notes with a silent humming, almost inaudible with Randel’s vocal performance. With a nod, she opened her eyes, “I think I have it,” She murmured.

Though Randel’s voice had soared above Ara’s, Ch’dau delighted in hearing her humming along with the man’s tune. It wasn’t singing in the way he had become accustomed to her do it over the years, of course, but it was more than he’d heard from her in a month or better and that was enough to bring a soft smile to the kazari’s face.

Randel nodded, an appreciative smile on his lips and in his dark eyes, “I cannot thank you enough.” His face suddenly fell into concentration as he began to look around at the ground beneath them. He stood and walked toward them, searching the ground some more before crouching in front of Aranwen, “I may not have any weapons on me to help make the singing more comfortable for you, however,” and that familiar grin touched the side of his mouth as he picked a piece of grass from beneath him and set it on her knee, “I do have a blade, if you need one.” 

Aranwen stifled a giggle in her hand, "And a lovely blade it is," she returned with a gentle smile. Sadness lay beneath that smile, however, as she reflected on how long it had been since she held steel in hand that wasn't a product of delusion. It was for the best, though; she was aware enough of her current condition to know that it would only be a danger to Ch'dau or herself. 

Ch’dau snorted and shook his head as he got to his feet and began gathering up the leavings of their lunch. “Now we know where Kithran’s odd sense of humor comes from,” he rumbled, padding for the cart. Still chuckling, he gazed skyward, then, and checked the position of Khr’a’s right eye before wandering back toward Aranwen and Randel.

“If we are to make it any sort of distance toward Meadowbrook, m’penzi,” he chuffed, resting a hand on Ara’s shoulder, “we should break camp soon, yes?”

She glanced up at him and offered a faint nod and he smiled in return. Her golden eyes still held the sadness he had become familiar with since Crandel, of course, but, at the same time, they were a bit brighter than they had been in some time. Ch’dau imagined that Randel’s presence had a great deal to do with that and, his eyes lifting from Ara’s face to Randel’s, he offered a nod of silent thanks.

“If you can wait until I have our belongings packed, my friend,” he rumbled, “We can offer you a ride as far as Calestra’s walls. I would be honored to spare you the walk.”

The elder Aldeath returned the nod and a smile. “And I would be honored to spend that much more time in your company,” he said, “Might I offer you some help in packing?”

“Mm,” the kazari grunted, “Thank you.”

Soon enough, camp was struck, the fire doused, and the mules hitched back to the cart. Ch’dau let Randel have a seat on the buckboard next to Aranwen and walked along beside the wagon as it rattled down the road toward the city. Once they had gotten as close to the walls as Ch’dau dared, he called the beasts to a stop with a firm tug on a bridle. “This is as far as we go,” he rumbled to Randel, tipping his head in the direction of a smaller, less used road that would skirt the city’s walls, “Our destination awaits us along this path.”

The dark haired man bobbed his head, offering a warm if somewhat saddened smile. “I understand,” he sighed, leaning over on the bench to wrap his arms around Aranwen, again.

“It was a pleasure… an honor,” he corrected, releasing Ara from the embrace as he turned and clambered down from the wagon, “to have met you both and to have shared in your stories of my daughter. Thank you, again, for everything.”

The Silver Cat shrugged and nodded in reply as Randel stopped before him and looked up with a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me, Ch’dau,” he smirked, “do Kazari hug?”

“No,” Ch’dau snorted, “they do not.” Then he chuckled, reached out a paw, and dragged Randel into a furry embrace. “I make this exception for you, Randel Aldeath,” he chuffed, “tell no one.”

“Of course not,” the man chuckled, patting the massive cat-beast on the back before slipping from his grasp, “your secrets are always safe in this family.”

“Secrets, perhaps,” Ch’dau winked, climbing up onto the cart and taking the reins, again, “Pockets, not so much.”

Randel laughed and nodded. “Just so,” he replied, taking a few backward steps toward the city walls. “Stay in touch,” he called, lifting one hand to wave at them as Ch’dau flicked the reins and the mules began hauling the wagon toward the smaller road, “and stay safe on your journey.” His dark eyes met Aranwen’s golden ones, again; “And, remember; Keep persistent. Just keep persistent.”

Aranwen gave a slight nod in return to Randel, and her golden eyes watched him as he departed on his path. As the wagon began to make its way along the less used path, Aranwen leaned in to rest her head at Ch'dau's shoulder. 

"Will… Will I be able to sing, again?" she murmured to herself, her eyes closing as she relaxed. 

“You sang, today, m’penzi,” he reminded her softly, letting go of the reins with one had in order to wrap his arm around her, “and it was beautiful.” 

Aranwen gave a soft smile, "Thank you, melamin."

“Of course,” he purred, inclining his head to nuzzle her, “You will find your voice, again, Aranwen Galandel. Of this I have no doubt.”

As she rested, feeling the steady rhythm of the wagon beneath her as it carried Ch'dau and her onward, she took in a breath. The soft sound of her humming was faint over the wagon, as she began to practice the song she had just learned. 

Ch’dau fell into silence, his ears and tail flicking happily as he listened to her humming, again. He was perfectly content to listen for as long as she wanted to sing and took comfort in the fact that she had even bothered to try. He had lost himself in the gentle strains of her voice and was slightly disappointed when, after a while, the song abruptly stopped. 

He glanced over at her to find her regarding him, almost curiously. “What was that about pockets not being safe,” she asked, her golden eyes blinking in wonder.

“Heh,” Ch’dau chuckled, realizing that in the course of Randel’s visit, no mention had been made of Danny and Chora. “Ah, yes,” he rumbled, “When I was in the market this morning, Kithran’s little brother picked my pocket and her little sister facilitated his escape. This is how I came to find Randel to begin with.”

Those golden eyes almost seemed to sparkle again as they went wide at the revelation. “I wasn’t aware that Kithran had any siblings,” she said.

“Hm,” Ch’dau nodded, “I am not sure that she does, either. We will tell her about them when we find her, yes?”

Ara smiled softly and nodded in reply, her gaze drifting toward the city for a moment before returning to Ch’dau. “Would you tell me about them, now?”

The kazari smiled, too. “Danny and Chora,” he began, “both far too much like our Little Kitten for their own good…” As the wagon clattered on toward Meadowbrook, Ch’dau told Aranwen the tale of how he’d met them, what they were like, and how, in the end, it had been because of them that Randel had returned to their camp with him. 

I've got something in the works for Megan, actually, but got bogged down at a certain point and am trying to figure out how to unstick it.

With any luck, I'll find what I'm looking for soon and have something to post before much longer.

Well, you know, those leg sleeves were darn uncomfortable and Ch'dau thought they looked ridiculous. He's muuuuuch happier now that he's got on "proper Kazai garb."

No worries re: the day. I'll be a bit busy myself for a good part of the afternoon - got some running around to do, clean up from last night's Christmas Party to tend to, and such. I'll be checking in from time to time, of course, but will likely not have time to write anymore until a bit later.

Collab of Randel meeting Ara is under way. 

Spectacular post, Brom! Quite the vision indeed!

I enjoyed seeing our group's escape from that perspective... I even almost felt bad for Per...lol... Nooooo I didn't!

"Go see your god." That was perfect!!!

Bree: Diola lle, melamin is elvish for "Thank you, my love."

Just a little bit to get us back in motion, I suppose. In the time Ch'dau spent re-equipping himself with more familiar gear, the skellies have crept closer. He's engaging (more or less defensively) in order to give Kith, Ara, and Mosic time to reach the house... I'll leave it up to you all as to where it goes from there.

Ch’dau looked up from coiling the rope as Kithran raced away, his eyes sweeping the lawn and the skeletons that populated it, now, and he smiled and growled all at once. This place should be long behind me, he told himself, long behind US. Why are we here? For some damned book? For some sense of vengeance, years past?  

He shook his shaggy head as the last coil of rope looped around his arm and he spied Kithran pressing herself into the shadows alongside Mosic and Aranwen. None of us should be here, he mused, slipping the coil of rope over his shoulder, checking the positions of the bone horde and, then, charging off to where the others waited, and, yet, here we are… His gaze ticked to the turrets of the manor house… if only to kill you, bitch. I suppose that will be better than nothing.

In moments he was in the shadows under the shed’s eaves, standing beside Aranwen, his back to the bricks. “Well done,” he rumbled softly, his gaze flicking between the Syl and the Cid but finding no trace of Kithran, “where is the girl?”

Even as the skeletons started to abandon their inspection of the bodies they had toppled from the wall, Aranwen’s golden eyes rolled in the dark and she jerked her head toward the corner of the building. “Inspecting the interior,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Bak’chu’s balls,” Ch’dau cursed, “I begin to wonder if that little kitten has not seen a lock she dare not test.” His gaze danced left and right, assessing the skeletons as they began to wander away from the diversion they had created and, once more, began to spread out across the estate’s grounds.

The kazari sighed, then, and nodded to the slowly encroaching creatures even as he handed Aranwen back her rope. “Mind these,” he chuffed, “or make for the house. I shall fetch the kibibi and be close behind.”

((OOC: Up to you what course Ara and Mosic take, of course, Butterfly))

With a soft grunt, Ch’dau pushed himself away from the wall and quickly rounded the corner Aranwen had indicated. He had scarcely turned that corner when he saw the door which Kithran had opened and made his way to it, meeting the dark-haired half-syl just as she sought to exit.

“What are you doing, kibibi,” he huffed from one side of the threshold as she blinked her dark eyes at him from the other, “We do not have the time for this.”

((OOC: Assuming a “Says you, cat-beast. There’s some stuff in that trunk you might be interested in. Don’t imagine it’d fit a human.” Or something like that…  ))

A quizzical look wafted across the kazari’s face, then, and he looked past the thief to the chest she had indicated for a second before stepping out of her way and jerking his head in the direction of Aranwen and the priest. “Go,” he chuffed, “keep to the bladesinger until you reach the house. I am just behind.”

At first, he had thought to ignore her invitation but, as she shrugged and slipped past him and back into the shadows, Ch’dau’s eyes were drawn to the open trunk and Kith’s words echoed in his head… Don’t imagine it’d fit a human… Surpressing the irritated growl that welled in his chest, the Kazari stepped into the building and strode toward the chest, chastising himself at the stupidity of it with each step. Then, as he peered into the thing, he couldn’t help but chuckle. He saw his falcata and dak’tar carelessly tucked amongst the rags and refuse that filled the thing. “That girl,” he snorted, reaching for the weapons he thought he would never see again…

There was no time to overthink it. He pulled the bone-worked, leather bandoliers from the trunk, making quick work of replacing the stolen short-swords with them, and, with a glance over his shoulders as three shadows passed the doorway, snatched up the leather-strapped skirt of a dak’tar, as well. He tore off the uncomforatble pants he had been wearing, then, and buckled the dak’tar quickly around his waist, securing his gear and his pride all at once, before turning for the doorway, ignoring whatever else might have been nestled in the trunk’s fetid interior.

…As he crossed back intothe outside world, he tugged the hook-bladed falcata free or their sheaths and grinned before his gaze caught sight of a bone-legged warrior staggering in his direction. A low growl built within him as he turned his gaze, briefly, from the approaching skeleton and toward the three shadows that were charging for the manor house. “Quickly, t’mbili’i,” he barked, moving to cut the femurs from under the bone warrior as his comapnions sprinted for the manse, “our distraction is finished.”

A single swipe of the falcata had served its purpose and the skeleton collapsed into a heap of still bones as Ch’dau backed away in slow pursuit of his tiny clan. Still, more moved to replace it, and, with the determination of the approaching undead, the growl in Ch’dau’s chest rose along with the press.

Like I said when we first started collabing on that, I totally expected Ch'dau to get his pocket picked but when it turned out to be Kith's siblings, I nearly cried! You and your amazing twists... *poke* ... The RP potential of what's likely to follow, too, has me excited (and wrapping my heart in bubble wrap, tbh).

Looking forward to Olan's priest showing up, all Friar Tuck-like, and making his mark on the tale, as well. Ch'dau may very well end up sleeping on the couch once he and Ara find their way to Meadowbrook.

Aaaaanyhooo.... I have a post for KCandK to finsih off and get tacked up... and after 3+ hours of face painting, I think I hear a kraken calling my name.

...the Aldeath family took me by surprise, too! Neat twist though!

Looks like I've got some reading to do now that I'm done painting faces!

EDIT:  Posts read -  Rer: My poor m'penzi! Looks like Randel is gonna see the pain, first hand and from the get go. 

Breeblicious - Nice finish to that collab, kibibi!

I'm already in everyone's house... shhhhhhh....

Thanks for contributing, Brom!!! You're the BEST!!!

P.S. That. Was. Beautiful!

I absolutely loved that!!!

So... off to Randell's wagon it is, yes?

More Saeriel would be a neat read!

I admit, though, that Alvereon isn't one of the dieties in Audalis' pantheon that I've read up on too much, so I can't really give too much input where that's concerned, just yet. Once I get a minute, though, I'll go check out the entry.

Olan and I have discussed Ch'dau enlisting the aid of a preist to help get her through (or, at least, on the path) her survivors guilt... and during that discussion, I asked Olan if he'd care to take up that particualr role. He said he could be convinced, though I don't know if he'll be shwoing up here in Calestra or later down the road. Left it completely up to him.

And, hey, you found my stuff!!!

Looking forward to it!

She had struggled to find that peaceful place in her slumber for a while. She had tossed, turned, cried out, and simply cried in those first hours he had held her and tried to soothe her. After a time, though, as it had been for the past weeks, Aranwen became exhausted in the fighting of her memories and drifted away, once again, into stillness and quiet. For a while after she had found her peace, Ch’dau lay there with her, cradling the Syl woman against him and finding some small bit of tranquility in the soft, even breaths that blew through his fur. For him, though, sleep didn’t come, and, after an hour or so of staring up at the fabric of their tent and trying to lose himself in the ebb and flow of Ara’s peaceful breathing, the kazari found himself too restless to be still any longer.

Slowly, quietly, he slipped himself from beneath her, replacing his bulk, bit by bit, with piles of blankets and furs that she clung to just the same. Finally, nestling a particularly folded pelt beneath her head even as he held it in the exact position it had rested on his chest, he slid fully from under the broken bladesinger and pushed her hair from her cheek before softly kissing her there and, then, slipping out into the night air beyond the tent flaps. The mules started to bray at his appearance, but he silenced them with the faintest of growls, nodding as the stilled their racket and went back to chewing the oats he had spread beneath their tethers.

“Hm,” he grumbled, stalking to the very edge of the forests canopy. He stretched, turned his eyes toward the walls of Calestra, and blinked at the few lights that still glimmered beyond. After a moment of contemplating those earth based stars, he turned his gaze to the heavens and studied the older ones, there, for a while, before he met Khr’a’s left eye, not quite full in this season…

“You are home, now, Kazari,” a near forgotten voice seemed to whisper from the moon’s soft-lidded glow, “This place you will learn.”

…“What is it I am to learn,” Ch’dau whispered to the sky, “and why must she be punished for me to learn it?”

He waited for an answer but there was none forthcoming. After a few more minutes, his neck weary from being craned skyward, he snorted and cast his gaze to the stars presented by the still distant city instead. There are no answers from the sky, he decided, then, and, likely, no true answers to be found there, either. He crouched in the grass, then, his eyes never leaving the distant lights of Calestra and the thumb of one hand tracing absently over the scar left by the blade with which Kithran had stabbed him. As that digit reached the end of the scar, though, he glanced back at the tent where Aranwen yet slept. His lung filled slowly, as if they might, in the next moment, empty into the world as a heavy sigh. Instead, the cat-man’s head swiveled back around, took in Calestra, once more, and dipped to the grass and clover between his feet.

Half an answer is better than none, he reminded himself, echoing a phrase which a delirious Ara had muttered to him not a week ago when they encountered a troupe of scarlet-clad women on the road, Gib would consider every word for what it was and was not. Would you do less… for your daughter?

He fell back into the grass, then, his haunches making a nigh audible thunk as his gaze lifted from the ground between his feet, and he sighed as his gaze turned back toward the city. “For our daughter,” he muttered on that heavy breath, “No, m’penzi, I will not.”

He tugged one of his falcata free of it’s scabbard, then, and, still eyeing the city, retrieved a whetstone from its pouch on the belt of his dak’tar. As he honed the blade’s edges, he wondered what he might say should, come morning, he encounter Randell Aldeath or one of the Laughing Maidens who had known a younger Kithran and, in the end, he could think of nothing. Similarly, too, with the tending of his send blade’s edge, he could imagine nothing he might say to initiate conversation with either of the parties who might have the most concern for his lost kibibi. It was only as he reached for the dagger Kitrhran had given him, all that time ago, in a dungeon in Sendria, that Ch’dau found purpose and an answer in the question he had earlier posed to Khr’a…

Their truth is the same as yours, kazari; and it is the truth. The truth, as you know it, is all either of them might need.

…His prayer answered and his lids heavy, now, The Silver Cat lifted his eyes to the heavens, again, and nodded. “And should I see them,” he rumbled, “I will see that they know.”

He touched the empty scabbard where the dagger once lived, then, and got to his feet. Stretching against the ache of his newest scars, he turned his gaze on Calestra, once more, and yawned in her face. I shall see you in the market, he thought, his joints crackling in answer to the stretch, or at The Long Gamble… His eyes tore from the fewer and still distant lights as he stalked back toward the tent… or not at all.

He ducked through the flaps, secured them behind him, and, just as gently as he had placed them, removed the body-double blankets and furs he had piled around Aranwen. Just as he thought he had replaced himself back into her embrace without her notice, she shifted against him, grumbled something incomprehensible, and then opened her golden eyes and fixed them to his turquoise ones.

“Where did you go,” she asked.

“Outside,” he answered, his arms folding around her and pulling her to him, “I thought I heard something. Did I wake you?”

“No,” she sighed, her cheek rubbing against his chest, “I don’t sleep any more… not really…”

“You should,” he purred as her body draped over his and her breathing slowed, again, “It would do you good. Morning will be here soon.”

“Mmm,” she cooed.

“Mmm,” he answered, his eyes closing as her weight pressed comfortingly on him.

I'll try to be quiet for a bit... Crawling onto the couch with a sketchbook, now.

Shhhhhh.... Date... have fun... don't mind the Syl and Kazari canoodling!

What's the term for that, I wonder... Kittification?

I can get that! I'll see what I can come up with!

One male, one female sound okay?

Moved the "game thread" to freeform and added all HC players as authorized posters... Feel free to jump in if you like, folks. No pressure, of course, just if you feel like adding anything.

Hey! You don't even have to interact with Ch'dau and Ara if you see fit. Got something that your character is up to between HC and the Boogaloo to come? Post it up!

Wanna put on some random character in the path of any of the survivors from HC... Dooooo it!

Reralae - Does Ara want a boy, a girl, one of each, twins?

Should I draw them "grown" or as cubs?

Soooorrrrrrryyyyy....