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Latest revision as of 02:23, 12 August 2019

Summary: Brennia was debating with Thedez whether they should venture up to Schezerade or not…. They eventually go anyway, at A Red Dragon’s request.

Town Well

Just south of the Xalious Village rests the town's well. At it's bottom is crisp and pure water, filtered through the rocky mountains by the many hydromancers who come to study at the Mage's Guild. It is the sole water source for the entire village as well as those within the Tower, and as such is protected by a plethora of arcane defences. Many of the villagers spend their days here, discussing various aspects of their lives, as well as keeping an eye on the multitude of visitors who frequent this town; more so now that the foul smell which once came from it has been expelled by the mages. It is whispered that beneath it lays deep tunnels which link up to other wells in Hollow, and perhaps even the Underdark, but no villagers are brave enough to learn the truth, content enough they are knowing they're well protected. The northern road leads back into town, to the east is the entrance to a grand park. South is the magnificent Xalious Tree, restored once again to its former splendour. And to the west is an ancient guard tower which houses the few guards who ensure peace is kept in the village.

Brynhild sits atop an irritated horse, who has literally dragged her derrier from Cenril, through Kelay and finally into the village of Xalious. The human disguised dragon rolls her cerulean eyes when her "gallant" steed snorts out of exhaustion. The merchant Pierre assured that it was of the finest stock. Turns out that marketing quote was nothing more than a pile of troll dung, she would be sure to visit him later. Eventually she climbs down and ties the lesser creature off to a nearby post. The central well is her next target, where she pulls up a bucket of water and removes her mithril helm - revealing blonde, braided tresses and delicate features. Such things are obviously a lie, but most don't catch on, for her beautiful curves are designed to beguile. The bucket of water mentioned earlier, is raised and poured over her features. Her six and a half foot height, also alarms a few men gathered around. It isn't often men have to look up to a human female. Just the way she likes it.

Brennia is as tall as most avian women come, six foot two, and it’s rare that another woman is as tall or even taller! Thedez is the one who notices the woman at the well first as Brennia is looking down for once, her face screwed up in unexplainable emotions. Thedez is appointed by Queen Reginae to watch over and protect Brennia, who is a close friend to Reginae, but he is also a little set in his ways and doesn’t like to disguise himself to the ‘lesser’ races. So, there he his, slithering behind the caramel and tattoo skinned woman in all his silver and blue scaled glory as his moonstone eyes narrow a little at Brynhild. “Brennia,” (bren-eye-uh) the name said quietly, but halting enough to grab her attention. She stops and whirls around, large dark wings reflecting hues of navy blues and forrest greens in the sunlight as they fluff out a little in her emotions to appear bigger than they actually are, “no… Just no, Thedez. I am -not- ready to see it.” Her long dark brown hair cascades a little when she shakes her head at him, but his attempts to get her to shut her up in front of a stranger that she has yet to realize is there is futile, “you don’t understand. You weren’t there. I did everything for my students. When they needed a place to call home, I expanded the castle, when their quality of life was threatened, I ran for sen-” her eyes narrowed as she realizes he’s looking over her shoulder at something. She turns again and folds her large wings as close to her slim frame as she can. “Oh… hello.” Awkward! Her soft smile spreads over full lips and she quickly wipes a threatening tear from the corner of her eye, “I apologize.” She offers graciously, thus putting that arrogant avian stereotype to shame.

Brynhild lofts a single, perfectly shaped brow at the unknown duo, whilst they talked. She had almost no interest in the male - not when he was standing next to the tattooed Avian. My, my, Brynhild thinks to herself, fighting back the urge to lick her own lips. Instead her features twist up into a bright smile; Beaming like a flower midwinter waiting for months without the sun, to finally meet it, here and now. She waves a gauntleted hand at Brennias words. "Please, don't mind me at all." Her voice is velvety smooth in an attempt to have others focus on that sound, instead of her booted feet moving and carrying her frame in a circle around the Avian. When she returns to her original post, she finally speaks. "Instead, it's I should be apologizing. I couldn't help but get an eyeful of such a delightful creature." She extends her hand forward. "I'm Brynhild." She has still wholeheartedly ignored Brennias partner.

Brennia’s footsteps slowly followed the direction of the circling woman and she suddenly feels like prey. She can practically feel Thedez’s unmoving gaze and his grip tightening around his spear, but she can definitely handle herself around a human woman. Srsly chill, Thedez - kaythnxbye. The compliments roll over her and she thinks nothing of it, really, for she didn’t feel like an eyeful. She’s yet to really rest since Thedez and her got rescued and she’s simply wearing black cotton leggings tucked into knee high soft leather boots and a loosely knit off the shoulder sweater thats the color of sand. Her sun kissed hair is pulled up into a high ponytail which makes her elongated tapered ears stick out even more than usual. Her solid teal gaze catches in Brynhild’s, “no need to apologize for simply looking.” A smile widens to poke dimples in her cheeks as she takes the woman’s hand to shake, “Brennia Cadenza.” Her name was once known when she was campaigning for Senator of Schezerade, or leader of the Bard’s guild, or even Dean of the DeVere College of Bardic Arts. “That’s Thedez…” her tone sort of flattened as her hand motioned to the naga. And ew… partner, no Brynie. Thedez and Brennia used to bicker like siblings and there is definitely -no- attraction between them. Especially because he’s a purist and is only attracted to his own kind. “He’s appointed to protect me.” Thedez only offers as much as he’s given from Brynhild, be it a nod, a wave or a hello - or even nothing.

Brynhild can't help but laugh, shifting her shoulders ever so slightly. "I've yet to meet an avian since waking from my dreadful hibernation. The God's bless me with a female for my first meeting in thousands of years." Nothing more than a simple flick of her eyes lands upon the Naga. What are Brynhilds words hinting at? "Ah yes, the Naga. I've heard much about my lesser reptillian cousins." There she goes confirming it even more. "Beautiful name." She hums thoughtfully for a moment before coming a a decision. "I am much more than you see. An old red dragon, and my Arbiter Dyraxdiin is a very dear and Ancient friend of mine. He and I are both seeking allies, and I do hold a certain respect for Avians. Perhaps we can further discuss such things?"

Brennia lofts a brow, “the gods?” A slow smirk spread across her lips this time, “not sure if they’d have anything to do with avians. You see, most consider themselves to be godlike.” Her tone suggests that, like in many ways, she’s not like her kin in that trait. One trait she does share and cannot control, though, is that anyone will smell their favorite scent coming off her. It could be easy why avians would be so arrogant to believe they are like gods: They are highly intelligent, their solid eye colors are unnaturally deep and their physical features are to be envied while their precious wings are always pristine and shining. Her dark wings fidget as she finally realizes that this woman is hitting on her? And she’s standing there spewing pointless facts at the stranger. “I see,” feeling like a dope, she glances over her shoulder and between her wings to the path that leads to the Dancing Destrier, “yeah… Allies,” she finds the woman’s gaze once more and points a thumb over to the tavern, “I could definitely use all the friends I can get for the days to come. We can sit and have a talk there?” Brennia really hates being caught up in taverns, pubs or bars anymore for the one fun thing that such establishments provide, she cannot partake. Thedez has already started to make his way towards the tavern before them and Brennia keeps easy pace with Brynhild, “so… miss Brynhild,” the subtle accent on the bard’s smoky timbre plays with the name in a pleasant way. “A red dragon? I know the color of scales typically hold some sort of significance. What’s red?” Keeping the conversation casual while the door is being held open for them by Thedez.

The Dancing Destrier

Built against the rocky mountains behind it, The Dancing Destrier is a large inn. Double doors open to a massive dining area, often filled with magelings, villagers and visitors to the town, and even a few errant hobbits who have braved leaving the Burrows to live amongst the 'Big People'. Many wondrous smells come from the kitchen, where the barkeep's wife prepares exotic foods with ingredients given to her by mages, and recipes gained over a lifetime of meeting the strange patrons who come from all around to study within the Mage Tower or pay their respects to the Xalious Tree. The owner is a friendly man, with eyes that betray a fierce intelligence. Thin of arm and quiet of voice, he nevertheless emits the confidence which comes from those who have studied the arcane. A small fire burns without wood in the corner, but it is more a source of light than heat; kept alive by young pyromancers in the Guild as an exercise in control. There is always a student or two sitting in one of the high chairs which surround it, their features fierce in concentration. The entire building is made like the rest of Xalious Village: simple and sturdy, yet clearly built with the love and attention which can only come from the villagers themselves.

Brynhild nods to Brennias words and follows her off towards her chosen destination. "Colors denote a few different things. But generally reds are fire breathers, quick tempered, and are some of the biggest dragons. We tend to make great warriors." She hums once more deliberating over revealing further information. "At least my fellow brothers and sisters reds of the first clutch were. It seems that things have changed since those times. I assure you I embody the old, not the new." Brynhild taps a single index finger at her own lips in thought. She knows of Avians and thier thoughts on God's. She's a dragon and is often known to harbor similar views herself. As for the favorite scent that constantly berates her senses, well, we shall save that for another time. "But each color represents different nature's. Which is why I sought out my old... What would he be called by today's language?" She pauses for a moment to figure out how to describe him. "Ex-brother in law, Dyraxdiin. I believe that's the term, and asked for him to be my Arbiter." There is a lot about old dragon customs left unsaid, but Diin, is responsible for ensuring Brynhilds wrath is pointed in the right direction.

Brennia looks over the short list of items for refreshment, the teal hues catching on the items left over from Valentine’s Day. Bittersweet memories begin to surface before she orders herself, “a water. Thank you,” with a genuinely warm smile to the waitress. Then she pulls out her own chair to have a seat and Thedez occupies a chair near the door to keep a vigilant eye on Brennia along with any newcomers. “I would imagine so,” her gaze rests easy on Brynhild, who is currently in the form of a beautiful woman, which Brennia can appreciate, for she fancies both male and female forms. The avian leans on the table while her wings fold to either side of the chair as to not sit on them and the billowy sleeves of her sweater softly piles on the table between herself and Brynhild. “Quick tempered, like fire. It starts off smoldering and can spread immaculately until it swallows things whole,” it’s just like a bard to take something simple and violent to sound romantic. “In law? So, were you married to a sibling of his or the other way around?” She asks casually before sipping her water. The avian has a way about her, something about attention and how she gives it entirely to those she’s talking to makes people really feel heard or listened to, maybe even comfortable. The way the dim candle light flickers it’s light against her dark complexion makes the intricate filigree pattern on her shoulders, neck and hands seem like it’s swaying upon her supple skin.

Brynhild lofts a finger to adjust an errant strand of golden hair, tucking it back behind her ear. As for a drink, she merely waves her hand, uninterested in anything this place has to offer. Once more her eyes settle on Brennia, taking note of her tone of voice, posture and words. Weighing the worth of her eloquent description of fire. Rather poetic, but no less accurate. "Something like that. We didn't really marry back then though we loved each other and planned to start our own brood. Would have been interesting to say the least. Maldryxiin the gray and me a red. But yes, Dyraxdiin and I have common interests: his brother and the old ways." Her tone goes flat here, and begins to wander off into distant memories. "Though I guess it doesn't matter too much. He was killed by dwarves a -very- long time ago." Her eyes move to the Naga and settle. "Hence why I'll never have another male." A beat, it seems in conversation, before she gathers her wits once again. "But that's enough about me." Her inner temper flaring over those memories. "Let's hear about you and what you might need from an alliance with Dragons."

Brennia’s expression softens as she gets lost in the tale, “oh… Brynhild. I’m so sorry.” The avian reaches out a hand across the table in instinct, but she hesitates and thinks better on it. You just don’t go touching strangers, but the friendly side of the woman beckons to comfort the stranger. She tries to cover up the awkward hand reach with taking up her glass of water again and taking a sip. “I can relate to a point,” she lightly touched, but is glad that the subject gets changed. “Well, our races have always been cordial with each other. We are somewhat similar…. old, wise and can fly,” just to touch the basics. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to need. I know Hildegarde was on my side when I was running for Senator of Schezerade and I hope it still stands.” Her fingertips soundlessly lightly tap the table top with deliberate patterns as if she were tinkling away at a piano. Nervous ticks. “Loyalty,” the word said as if it tasted funny on her tongue, “a lot of mistakes had been made along the way and I allowed people close to me that I shouldn’t have.” A soft and warm smile spreads across her lips again as if they are old friends, “a dragon’s strength. Impressive… captivating, intimidating and just… wholly awesome.” The tone in her voice dropped when she made something so plain sound romanticized, but truth be told, she’s always admired dragons and their smooth scales. She blinks a couple times to pull her back out of her running thoughts, “Schezerade’s library is vast and the floating city, carved from marble, usually oozes opulence. I just want my home back,” the last sentence said in defeated manner. “I haven’t even been back up there to see what has become of the college. The poor students and their home for music…”

Brynhild does indeed notice that awkward hand of Brennias. Paying so much attention to someone grants you better observational skills. "Loyalty is a good starting place. But flattering a dragon would only get you in my bed for a night, not my loyalty." She cracks half a smile which fades into a more serious look. "I suggest you take a look at your home then. Learn from us dragons who slumbered and lost an empire." This was a sore spot for Bryn. "As for Hildegard, I cannot speak for her. She is a queen and has a territory. I on the other hand have nothing, but a few dragons. We will have more. I can promise to help defend your home, if that's something you're interested in? We could start there and then figure some other things out."

Brennia rests her chin in the palms of her hands as a soft raspy and contagious little giggle bubbles up from the bard, “I’d never.” It seems almost disrespectful to even try! “It just isn’t smart to mix business and pleasure,” a shrug of her shoulders which the sweater lazily hangs off of. “No matter how fun it may be,” her smile remains friendly and light in their joking. “I will do so… Miss Brynhild, have you heard about these Razurath?” Her brow knit together in the question before she takes a long sip of her water before resting her chin back on her palm. Now that the large sleeve is turned upright, it sort of falls to reveal part of her arm which is also covered in the same intricate tattoo pattern. Is the avian’s entire body covered in tattoos? It’s even accented around her hair line on her face! Ouch much.

Brynhild smiles once. It looks like Brennia might have good reasons to not mix two things. With that she drops the pleasantries. "Of them yes. But to be honest, I dont have tabs on everything that slithers, or crawls on the lands. I've yet to meet with them personally." Countless years of experiences begin to run scenarios through her mind. Was this little Avian worried about a possible attack? Curious. "Are you worried about an attack?"

Brennia assumes Brynhild asks because of Thedez following her around, “oh. Him? A year and a half ago, my friend didn’t want me touring around Lithrydel without someone strong to keep me safe. So, she appointed Thedez. We were tired and bickering as we usually do, and sort of lost, so we stopped at this rickety looking Inn. The place smelled funky, but we were just done for the day and as soon as we made it a few feet within the place, the trap door opens up below us and everything went dark. Turns out, we were under the influence of sedatives, potions and poisons to make us compliant to work on a farm for free labor,” a shrug of her shoulders cause her wings to rise and fall a little with the motion. Then she realizes that Brynhild wasn’t talking about that, “the razurath… I’m not sure. Maybe with every race there are some good and some bad? I guess I’m less worried and more confused. Especially since some of them kidnapped my dear friend and healer’s guild leader, Emilia.”

Brynhild begins to wonder why Brennia starts to describe some random scenario about her bodyguard? Then realizes that her own questioning was perhaps rather vague. When she switches gears to the razurath Brynhild nods. "These, -things- obviously have you a little worried. Specially if they kidnapped your guild leader." Bryn finally calls that waitress back over and orders herself a stiff drink; whiskey. "I can't say for sure what will happen. If the Razurath will attack you and your home. Whether your people are safe or not. No one knows what the future holds. What I'm offering though, is an alliance with a few dragons. We will help protect Schezerade and back you, publicly and with a little gold if needed. Provided you do the same for us when the time comes. I respect Avians, but I'm not offering out of the kindness of my heart. Are you prepared for worst case scenarios?" By now her drink arrives, where she holds it up to examine beneath her cerulean gaze.

Brennia was eventually getting the fact that Thedez is even more on alert for an attack now and that the Flewminati had been after her, but as soon as she realized it wasn’t relevant to what Brynhild has been asking, she abandoned ship. “I understand that,” he gaze drops to the whisky as she forces herself to keep drinking her water. “I am, I've been in the worse scenarios,” she finally peels her teal hues away from the amber colored liquid to rest within the cerulean. “You have my oath, Brynhild.” She holds out her tattooed hand. Once the dragon reaches to shake, Brennia grasps the inside of the woman’s forearm to shake like warriors of her kind to. It’s an ancient sign of respect to seal their oath.

Brynhild delivers a brilliant smile - showing off dimples to cute they should be illegal. "You have the oath and word of a dragon. And we hold ourselves true to them." The offered handshake is taken, just as expected, clasping hands around each other's forearm. Once that settles Brynhild pipes up, "Now that business is done..." That whiskey she was holding before... It's gone in a flash. "I wonder," the empty glass is set down. "Would you mind giving me a tour of Schezerade?" Her words hint at a plethora of things, but since this meeting is over, she will either wander up to the avian city or some place else.

Brennia smiles just the same and there’s a warmth there, “Brynhild, you have a beautiful smile.” A genuine compliment with no suggestive undertone, just like when women compliment other woman like ‘yaaas queen!’ Her bright smile dwindles a little, “what’s that… yes… Schezerade.” She looks up as if she can see the underside of the floating city through the tavern roof. Without having any idea of what she will find up there, she figures it will be an opportune time to go under the protection of both Thedez and Brynhild. Once Brennia stands, she smooths her sweater and waits for Brynhild to stand as well so they may depart together. It’s a short walk to the meadow which has a beam of light to pull them up to the sky pier. A large marble pier that leads under golden and platinum archways which used to be bustling with guards and people, but the entire place feels dim, cold and deserted, “anyone is able to use the beam of light to travel up here, but my opponent when I was running for Senator wanted to disable it so it could only be reached by avians…. damn elitist.” They press on and it’s then that she realizes the ground is tilted, not so much so that it’s hard to walk, but it’s unsettling enough. The street opens up to a large square which has a beautiful fountain which has mucky water in the middle, a tavern and inn to the right, the path to the amphitheater to the left and the imperial bank. Debris and charred walkways mar what was once beautiful architecture. Filth clutters the streets and only a few avians still meander about the streets for they are stubborn to give up their homes. She swallows hard and explains, “last I knew, Kharan’s forces had taken over the city because my opponent won and he was in league with him along with the Flewminati. That’s why I was on the run,” her heart aches remembering the last time she stepped out of Schezerade as her home was beside Niall… “there is the armory and an arena through there, the university that way,” she points to the front of the square and to the left and then to the right. “The Bard’s college is that way,” she motions to the road that curves off to the right next to them. “Which would you like to see first?”

The Fountain of Wishes

A marble fountain takes up the majority of Schezerade’s central square. In its centre, a ring of golden fish peek their heads out of the water, spewing streams of water from their mouths. Stacked on top of that ring lies a platform with a ring of majestic eagles, wings outstretched, chests puffed out proudly as jets of water shoot out of their beaks, into the sky. In the very centre of this beautiful fountain, placed on yet another platform above the eagles and fish stands a marble statue of Schezerade’s founder, a beautiful avian woman sporting a metallic arm. Passersby's stop to watch the living fish swimming in the fountain and the statue of the powerful woman with wonder. Some can even be seen tossing coins into the fountain as well, in hopes that their wishes will be granted.

Brynhild is sure to pay for the tab before standing and following Brennia to thier destination. She does notice the bards apprehensive nature, but makes no comments on it. "Unfortunately for your elitist foe," She's referring to the other candidate. "We dragons can also reach it. For most, that's alarming enough." What she means though, is that even if some force closes Schezerade down, Brennias new allies would have no problem getting there. Which is also a little scary. According to -many- historical documents, a single grown Dragon can siege a city, imagine what Brennia and Brynhild can do now? When the dragoness appears in Schezerade and sees the wreckage, she frowns. Avians living in such filth. Tis a shame. A clouded glance is thrown to Brennia, sorrow filled for mere moments. As for what she would like to see, she responds with something bordering seriousness and out right comedy. "Your bed perhaps." With a half cocked smirk she steps forth to begin wandering on her own. "I can take the tour from here Brennia, it was a pleasure to meet you. Can't wait to see more of you.... Around."

Brennia scoffs, “that was the exact point I was making. There are even flying steeds that could bring anyone up here if they wanted. The college is open to any and all. Most of my student population was a melting pot of races, classes and religions,” that’s how she liked it. “The restrictions being suggested were going to solely affect the Bard’s college and they knew it,” she sighs softly and calms herself. Brennia lets out another infections raspy chuckle at the flirty joke, “if I had one to share.” Thedez starts to move towards the path that leads to the college, he doesn’t want to see the pair flirting - just, ick. Brennia’s cheeks were pinkening, “in due time.” It is unclear if she’s joking back or entirely serious as her soft grin remains on her plump lips before she fists her hand over her heart and bows her head, “I will be seeing more of you miss Brynhild. As of right now… I’m going to do something I’ve been dreading since I lost the election.” She turns to the path that leads to the college, “go home…” she can feel tears stinging her eyes in spite of the soft smile on her lips as she forces her legs to start walking.