Hey, now!

I dunno that babies would even work!

Besides... where would that leave poor Ara during the events of Hidden Corruption?

P.S. What would a half syl- half kazari even look like??? I have a feeling that'd be the start of some crazy Pokemon business on Antaron!!!  You know... but with less cute and more killing...

We'll call her Sa'nura Uj'ana... after her Auntie!  

As do I!

Not sure that Brom is back from his trip abroad, though.

As far as Cedric goes... *dons underpants of Finn summoning and chants*... Pekka, Pekka, Pekka.

Not sure that will work but, by Rrowl, I can't wait to find out.

Kitty cuddles, purrrrrrrrhaps?

...if Olan approves of the lifespan I've proposed, I'm figuring that (out of necessity) Kazari reach "adulthood " at around 14 - 16. At the time of this tale, then, that would put Ch'dau in his early 20s - hence his "berserker" tendencies. Still young where the cat-folk are concerned and, given the time he spent with the Wyverns, just starting to truly 'adapt' to this strange land he's found himself in. 

Now Ch'dau kinda feels bad for being a cat-prick to the snotty blonde lady. 

Kinda!

I may just take you up on that, O' Dreamer of Bladesong!

Been a looooooooooooong time since anyone other than my wife has colored any of my work. I'm totally down for a collaboration of that nature!

Not sure what Olan had in mind when he originally put them together (before I started running off in the weeds with them) but I'm thinking somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 years or so.

I'm having a hard time imagining Ch'dau as an adolescent being anywhere near as entertaining... The best he's got is likely running naked into battle and "marking" everything he kills. *tail twitch*

P.S. Think I've got a decent layout figured for the "group picture." If my honey-do list isn't too long this weekend, I may have, at least, line art done before Monday... If I caffeinate properly, I may even manage color!

"We begin the hunt tonight
Feel the power course as the creatures take flight
When the kill is close then I will be satisfied
For the smell of fear tonight
Wakes an ancient lust that will not be denied
You're mine!"

Just keeping the animal instinct flowing in the universe! F a bunch of these gigglers!!! 

I hope!

Looks like some of Ch'dau's "honor" might've rubbed off on Kith... Don't get yourself killed, kabibi!

Or is it a Kazari prayer?

You decide!

...that the comment Ch'dau made to Gib keeps that friendly fire business to a minimum.

Now I have to pee!!!

Dutifully, Ch’dau kept his attentions tuned to watching for anything that might threaten the party from behind. The only time his eyes diverted was when, faint as the sound was, he heard Kith’s breath catch. The quick glance over his shoulder revealed the rogue giving an abrupt shake of her head just as the lock disengaged and the door creaked open. Whatever it had been that had caught her unawares, it seemed, was only fleeting, so the kazari returned to his vigil as Aranwen surveyed whatever was beyond the door… Based on the smell, alone, he stewed silently, it is nothing good.

"Definitely a side passage," he heard the Bladesinger say, "Used primarily by their undead minions, perhaps."

I am not surprised. He chuffed and snorted in a futile attempt to clear the stench from his nostrils as he awaited his khatun’s appraisal. Given the sigh which had escaped the Sylvari woman, the assessment was not long in coming, nor was it likely to be favorable.

"At the very least, we can hope this will continue to cover our approach, as opposed to walking in through the front hall," She offered quietly, "Line up single rank, that we won't block each other's movements. Stay alert."

“As you say, khatun,” the Silver Cat rumbled in response, already moving to comply.

The sloping hallway was mired in bits of flesh and bone and other gore that he preferred not to think on overmuch but, again, he couldn’t help be reminded of the dungeons of the Sendrian witch and, whether he gave conscious thought to it or not, it raised his hackles and set him on edge. The farther one ventures into a place like this, he remembered, trying to surpress the growling in his chest, the worse it is likely to get. Surely, it will not be long…

As if conjured by his own dark thoughts, an all too familiar cackling echoed from the hallway ahead. A lone ghoul, undaunted by the party’s numbers, ambled forward, the horrible giggling spilling forth from behind the needle-like teeth of it’s grin. Even as the party adjusted their ranks to place the fighters on the outside, another giggle issued from behind…

Surrounded, the kazari thought, no longer trying to keep his snarling in check, Not good!

As Gib stepped up in support of his position, Ch’dau readied his blades, prepared to take on the giggler approaching from the party’s back. Just as the thing got within range, though, a chant in a voice he didn’t recognize resounded through the corridor and a stygian darkness fell over everything. Even his eyes, accustomed to seeing in the dark, couldn’t pierce this blackness. “Bhak’chu’s balls,” he growled even as blindly he unleashed the stroke he had readied on the ghoul he hoped was still there. “Your shoulder to mine, Gib,” he rumbled (likely needlessly) to the war-priest, “Let us not lose sense of our own positions in this!”

Even as the words spilled from his mouth, a third giggle joined the chorus of the other two, and a scream – Davena’s scream – quickly followed. Ch’dau cursed, again, this time not bothering with Apanonese. He kicked out, hoping to catch the ghoul he could no longer see and drive it back, even if only for an instant.

Through the darkness, Aranwen’s voice shouted orders. “Focus! Recall the hall in your mind - feel the slope! Cedric, face down the slope and step to your right. Garn, turn up the slope and stay to your right - help Davena! Gib, Ch'dau, keep the back ghoul from us. Get ready to move.”

“As you say, khatun,” he barked in reply, keeping his ears keen for the giggler he was supposed to attend. Then, he called out to Midge; “If there is anything you might do to dispel this accursed darkness, little one, now is the time!”

((OOC: Ch’dau will proceed much the same as Aranwen, here, doing his best to keep the giggler at their back at bay if not slash and smash it to goo. Hopefully Gib will understand Ch’dau’s comment about keeping in contact, thus avoiding any friendly fire as much as possible and, I’m dearly hoping our Cidal mage has something in the way of ‘dispel magic’ that he might use to clear away the black.))

Perfect timing... had just finished up the little snippet I was working on when the update got posted.

I think I have a respite from the work-load at the moment so I'll put my head down and see if I can't get a reply to this added on before I post.

Damn gigglers!!!

I'm dying!!!

Pants aren't his preferred attire, of course, but it'd be a start. A cloak, too, wouldn't be a bad idea, considering it'd go a long way to hiding his more alien features from onlookers and passers-by. 

As to weaponry. he'd of course, prefer a pair of falcata but, I don't imagine that many smithies would have such things... a pair of short-swords would do in a pinch. With any luck, he may stumble upon his dak'tar and other gear when they revisit the witch's estate.

Post away!

As per Ch'dau's last comments, wandering around even Sendrian steets with a six-and-a-half foot kazari is gonna cause some trouble, I'm sure... We might want to figure out something about, at least, keeping him covered up before our little trio wanders back out into the open.

 “…Forgive,” he rumbled, wincing as he sank onto his haunches, “I… I thought…” He shook his shaggy head, then, and chuffed out another sigh as he took up the dagger at his feet. “Where are we rrow’ka? What has happened?”

“There is nothing to forgive;” the golden-eyed Bladesinger reassured him with a shake of her head and a warm smile, “you've harmed neither of us.”

“Good,” Ch’dau muttered softly, turning the dagger over in his paws and studying the intricate metalwork on its scabbard.

Kith sat herself down in front of him, then, a delighted grin on her face as she gestured at the blade in his hands. “First,” she said, “be sure not to lose that, again. It was my very first and I would hate for something to happen to it.” She gestured to indicate the space about them, then; “And you are in my humble home.”

I prefer humble to hostage, he mused just before his mind registered what she had said about the dagger. The expression on the Ch’dau’s face when he looked up at her was a mix of surprise and amusement. She was offering to let him keep the blade. Among his kind, such a thing was a great honor. “It will never be far from my hand so long as I live, Kithran,” his tail waved and his ears twitched in the kazari equivalent of a smile, “My thanks.”

“I am Aranwen Galandel,” the Bladesinger offered, then, drawing the cat’s attention.

“Well met,” the kazari nodded, “I am called Ch’dau.”

He listened intently as Aranwen recounted her version of the events that had brought them all to be together in the here and now. He recalled taking Kith through the window but, even with the Syl’s telling of the tale, Ch’dau was unable to form clear pictures in his mind of much that had happened after. The fact that this lone sylvari woman had come to their aid in the midst of the hell that was Adedre’s estate, though, struck him as more than impressive. The admiration of her prowess and her assistance gleamed in his eyes as her tale neared its end…

“…Between both of us, we carried you away, stopping only long enough to bind your most grievous of injuries,” Aranwen said, bringing her narrative to a close, “Once we got out, Kithran led us here. Both of you fell unconscious about as soon as you were no longer standing. I saw to your injuries as best I could.”

Ch’dau chuffed appreciatively, taking stock of the myriad bandages that now dressed his wounds; it was not the work of a khr’dun or one of the human clerics who hand tended him during his time with the Wyverns, but for what amounted to battlefield dressings, it was work well done. “You have my thanks, Kh’ur Aranwen Galandel,” he purred, bowing his head respectfully, “for both Kithran’s life and my own.”

“So, Kazari, Bladesinger,” Kith piped in, her gaze flitting between him and Aranwen, “what are your plans from here? I have a few of my own,” she continued, “but I think we can all benefit from the help of the other. What say you?”

Settling his shoulders against the wall at his back, Ch’dau gave Kithran’s question some consideration. Plans? Had I any true plans, he mused, they would involve finding my way back to Capasha, as they ever have… The thought brought a faint scowl to his face, though, as he recalled the numerous times that Kh’ur Roddric had pointed out what the denizens of Antaron called The Titan’s Walk, telling him tales of how impassible the reefs were… That is not bound to happen anytime soon, though…

"I would welcome assistance with my search," Aranwen offered as Ch’dau contemplated, "I am trying to find the head of a snake, so to speak. Someone who holds great influence over the buying and selling of slaves in Dravnor. Sylvari, in particular, seem to be targeted by those seeking to ambush travelers for coin in exchange for selling their lives," Her golden eyes hardened briefly, then she nodded to herself, "It isn't much to go on, but I'd rather make the attempt than give up without trying.

That said, I've no reason to believe that this metaphorical snake has any inclination to move, so I am in no hurry," She noted, "Your troubles on the other hand, they seem very much in the present, don't they?"

…An honorable mission, Ch’dau thought with a nod, his gaze lingering on the Bladesinger for a long moment, and, given what you have done for us, assisting in its completion is the least I can do to repay that. His attentions slid toward Kithran, then, and his shulders rolled against the wall, giving the impression of a faint shrug. “My plans are yours, rrow’ka,” he rumbled, “where you go, I will follow.”

He regarded the dagger in his hands – the only weapon he had aside from those with which Khr’a had created him – and, then, considered the blood-soaked loin-cloth girding his hips. Something of a chuckle chuffed out of him in the wake of that inventory. “I fear that to follow either of you, though, may bring you both more trouble than it is worth,” he said, hefting the dagger in one hand, “For now, this is the only blade I have and this thing,” he gestured distastefully at the stained and tattered cloth, “the only bit of concealment. It has been my experience, since arriving on your shores, that most do not appreciate or tolerate monsters inside their walls, let alone walking their streets. My presence is apt to bring much unwanted attention and interference.”

....yeah... *shudders* ...That's definitely creepy!

I LOVE it!!!

If you get to it before I do, I'm okay with that... Don't have too much to write up, at the moment, anyway, aside from Ch'dau acknowledging Ara's orders and, perhaps, reminding Kith (unneccesarily) to be careful. I can work all of that in, either way.

Unusually busy for a Friday, on my end, so it might be a bit before I can get it scrawled out, anyway.

...thinks better of it in order to avoid giving Olan any more ideas.*

I'll get a post going for Ch'dau, soon.

...this thread is quickly becoming my favorite thing to wake up to!

Wonderful posts from both of you, ladies! I'll get this first cuppa down and get a Ch'dau response going. Goooood Morning!

We appreciate it, boss!

U da MAN!

What's everyone else think?

To me, "tight squeeze" says no room to fight/manuever. I'm thinking "staggered single file" but maybe the same general order?

Edit: The butterfly beat me to it! What she said! *shuts up now*

Don't do that!!! I was panicked for a second!!!

I'd say we're on the right path, gang... but it feels sooooo wrong!

How wide is this hallway, o' master of our impending doom? Are we still good with two abreast or are we narrowing down?