RP:Came Tame and Tremulous

From HollowWiki

Part of the What You Leave Behind Arc


Summary: Not long after Kahran's forces conquer Schezerade, Oline chances upon Encara. The giantess fills the drow with news of the attack, prompting concern from someone not accustomed to such feelings about the surface world on which they've recently arrived. The pair bond over Oline's testimony of Kahran's dark deeds, and savor the thought of ripping the warlord apart. Meilani soon chances upon them during a traipse through the area as they dine on what is henceforth known as 'flat eggs'.

Xalious: Cliff

Encara is taking a brief rest here at the edge of the world. Having spent most of the day trekking across the mountains, she feels as if a little break is rightfully deserved… and where better than a cliff with a view? The drow sits on an outcropping of rock by the cliff's edge, winter-green hood pushed back and silver hair fluttering in the wind, long legs dangling into the misty air. If the sheer drop bothers her at all, she disguises it well. Her satchel rests in her lap, a meal of bread and dried meat wrapped in cheesecloth atop that - Encara idly takes a bite for herself before ripping a small chunk of frostmare jerky off to feed to Khova. The tiny drider, who's wearing what looks to be a small, handmade sweater on his humanoid upper half, nestles comfortably in the space between Encara's body and her satchel, safe from the wind while he chomps down on the food. Together they sit and share this rare moment of peace and quiet found only in the wild, empty reaches of the land.


Oline's arrival might well disrupt that moment of peace, announced as it was by the echoing screech of a colossal frost wyvern as it swept downward onto the lip of a neighboring precipice and deposited it's mistress. The giantess riding in the armored beast's equally enormous saddle hopped down with an audible stagger, turning to wave off a nuzzle of affection and concern with a pained laugh. Her voice carried well up here, echoing across the mountainside below. "Ah'm fahn... Ah'm fahn... shyeeush, Valkr... juss g-go." A hand came up to brush the wyvern's face almost tenderly as Oline turned to face him, nodding up toward a peak just across the divide. "Go... hunt! Ah'm gunna jess' rest ferr'a minnet're so 'n then Ah'mma do th'semm. Ain't gonna catch sheyuht iffin' yer flappin' rownd actin' all wurrid. G'wahn." Valkr screeched again at her before pumping his wings, lifting off from the narrow cliff's edge and soaring off in the direction the giantess had pointed him. He climbed his way up through the mists and disappeared somewhere over and around the mountain, allowing the disturbed peace and quiet to return... at least to a certain extent. Oline turned and found herself a rock against which to slump down and tend her wounds. Two fresh puncture-wounds marred her bare chest, covered only by a strip of cloth slathered in honey to hold it's place. Now that she had a moment to herself, the giantess fished a handful of rust-colored moss out from the satchel around her neck and pried the bandaging up to stuff it underneath. Almost immediately, an expression of relief chased away the pain.


Encara prides herself on being near impossible to sneak up on… so, naturally, she does not take well to being surprised. The shriek of a wyvern in flight causes her to flinch, satchel nearly sliding from her lap in the process - she steadies it with one hand while snatching up her bow, leaning against the rock at her side, with the other. Ruby eyes snap to follow the beast's movements as it dives from the mountains above, and she might've fired off a warning shot were it not for Khova's unintentional interruption. Leaping up onto the drow's arm, the miniature drider chitters angrily at the new arrival, sleek black legs raised and waving in a (cute) threat display, and in those seconds, Encara catches sight of the wyvern's rider. The wind carries that familiar voice to her, the ranger raising a dark brow at the notes of pain mixed in with the giantess' words. Only once the wyvern has departed does she lower her bow - Oline gets a vaguely disgruntled look even when Encara waves across to her. "Not subtle, are you?" She means her entrance. The drow's gaze then drops to the woman's wounds, a frown darkening her expression. "Get in another fight?"


Oline looked up from her moss-patching with a grimace, eyes narrowing as she attempted to peer out towards Encara's voice. She'd picked this place mostly due to its isolation... but the presence of the half-drow ranger didn't vex her overmuch. In response to the question she called back, "Th'siddee of wingfolk fell. Bleedin' drow 'n orcs 'n trolls ullovvuh th'pless. Ah... gawt shot..." she admitted, grumbling irritably. "... cuppluh tahms, ackshully."


Encara's frown deepens at the news. The wars of surface folk are largely ignored — not her business how they go about killing one another, after all — but the increasing tensions, the hushed rumours and awful truths, the frequent attacks, and all the chaos that breeds from each new event is enough to make her curious at best, concerned at worst. After a short pause, she wraps the remainder of her meal up, stuffs it in her bag, and gets to her feet to make her way across to Oline. The mist-wet rocks pose little challenge for the agile drow - she's soon standing before Oline, slinging her bow across her back once more as Khova climbs up onto her shoulder. "Tell me more," the drow says, then reaches into a pocket on the front of her satchel to withdraw a small vial, which she holds out for the giantess. "And take this. It's an antidote… drow -always- poison their arrows."


Oline had begun to suspect the poisoning, given the visible blackening of the flesh around the wounds and the red streaking veins eminating further outward still. She paused, staring at the offered vial, before carefully reaching out and clasping her hand around it. "Ah guess... Ah'mma hafta truss' yeh..." she grunted, prying the stopper out and tipping its contents into her mouth. "... else Ah'm dedded eethuh way." There was a tone of bitter resignation in her voice as she said that. She'd come to terms with the prospect of dying months ago. The fact that she'd failed to do so was welcome... but not assumed to be permanent. "Sum bastuhd... K-nemmed scraggin' sonovawhore... juss' took ovvuh th'whole siddee. Poof't inniz army lahk it wu'un nuthin'." She frowned a bit at that and eased herself up further against the rock. "Ah... barely gawt outta there. Had... sumkinna ghosty-bastuhd... trynna mahnd-jack me..."


Encara feels her jaw tense at the use of that word again. Trust. She'd done her best not to think about that wretched ball, but Oline's comment dredges the memory back up - Encara quickly crushes it before it can poison her mood like the angry wounds in the giantess' chest. "…It'd probably have been better to dab it on the injury," she mutters after Oline downs the antidote in one, taking back the now empty vial and returning it to her pack. Still, ingesting it will probably do the job well enough. Oline's mention of trusting her is, naturally, completely ignored. "Kahran." It has to be him, she knows that much. The name is spoken without emotion, though the drow's voice is diamond-hard and her eyes hold a steely edge. "I've heard of him. He is… formidable." There's a bemused blink, then. "Something tried to possess you?" An Oline under the control of a wicked enemy - the image is… almost frightening.


Oline bobbed her head. "Ah'unno whuddit wuz... but it shoore en't lahk'd trynna git in mah hedd wunss Ah'd gawt'n shot 'n start'd raging." She chuckled darkly, despite the frightful experience it had been at the moment. It was hard not to be amused as she recalled hurling an orc into a bunch of other orcs... the rush of adrenaline... the urge to crush the whole damn city into paste. She swallowed hard and flustered, her soft white cheeks turning a pale pink as she recognized her rising bloodlust-fueled arousal. "Kah-rahn? Kinna stoopid nemm izzat?" she offered, glancing aside to stare off into the mountain mists. "Nexkstahm Ah see'm... Ah'm gawnna punch'm raht 'n tha' smug fuggin' fess've 'is!"


Encara can't help the sharp bark of laughter that escapes her; the sound echoes off the surrounding cliffs, over and over. "That'll teach a monster not to be so quick to try getting into your head." The information itself is useful - that possession may be resisted with pure rage is something Encara feels she might have to keep in mind herself, just in case. She has no current plans to go toe to toe with any such creature, but with her luck… Oline gets a shrug as the drow turns to sit on the stone nearby, gently lifting Khova off her shoulder to hold him in the palms of her hands. "Could always join that… 'resistance,' or whatever they're calling themselves. I'm sure that'd give you a good chance of getting up close and personal with him."


Oline rolled her shoulder in a broad shrug. Despite her best efforts, she can't quite force down her bristling anger. "Ah en't rilla care wudth'a s'cuse is... s'lawng'z Ah gidt tha chance t'pay 'm back..." she snarls, eyes turning to inspect Encara upon her perch curiously. "B'sahds... Ah'v herd rumors tha th'Warryuh's Gild'z pard've it. Meenz Ah'm innit wethuh Ah rilla wanna be 're nawt. 'Less they kick't me owdt fer bein' gawn so long... Ah'unno. Maht hafta re-up iffin Ah wanna kick'z ahss sumthin' proppuh."


Encara muses, mostly to herself, "Why Schezerade though…" Then again, she supposes, a floating fortress more than makes up in sheer defensibility for what it lacks in subtlety. Khova chitters something utterly unintelligible in reply, but the ranger thinks he's in agreement with her thoughts - she scratches him under the chin in the manner one would pet a cat, earning herself some half-hearted slaps from tiny hands before the drider skitters off up her arm again, hooking his legs over a pointed ear (Encara stifles a snort) and pulling himself up onto the top of her head. He makes those odd threat displays at Oline again, more for the sake of it than anything else, while Encara slides the giantess a curious look. She doesn't seem bothered by Oline's anger, but that's no surprise. "Warrior's Guild, huh… to be honest, I don't know much about it all. Just bits and pieces I've picked up."


Oline hadn't heard much at all, either... except that somehow the Warrior's Guild had gotten itself involved. Which made sense, since Lionel wasn't the sort of man who'd just let some megalomaniac like Kahran just up and take over the world. Oline was more pragmatic about things like that typically... but Kahran was a smarmy, condescending piece of crap who had tried to have her enslaved within her own body. That was a mistake he would pay for, dearly. She growled again, impotently, and thumped her watermelon-sized fist into the rock beneath her hard enough to crack a chip off of it. Finally the lingering urge to harm and maim and disembowl subsided... leaving only the faint warmth of its presence in her gut. "Birdfolk priddee much jess' fuggin' suhrenduhd t'him." she snorted at last, several minutes after the question had been asked. "Nawt tha' Ah'm suhprahss't. Cowuhd's 'n bigots, wunninahll. Happy t'see 'em gidt wut they dizzerve... cu'un've appen't ta a bigguh buncha-..." she was cut off before finishing her sentence by the sound of Valkr's distant screeching. Immediately her expression changed, a faint smile tugging at her scowling lips. "Ah! Valkr's fownd 'imself sumthin' ta hunt. Tha's good. Ah wuz worried when Ah saw yeh 'ere mebbe yeh'd kill't iddall alreddy." A laugh, genuine and approaching warm, followed. "Sorreh fer juss... droppin' in en unloadin' all tha' shet on yeh..."


Encara has never had the pleasure of properly meeting any of the avian folk, but it's safe to say she'd likely not be fond of a bunch of arrogant, elitist jerks… because drow are nothing of the sort, themselves! Absolutely not. Anything she might've said about Schezerade's fall is withheld behind wind-bitten lips, however, when the echoes of Valkr's hunting call reaches them. With a glance at the towering mountains above, Encara grins at Oline, wolfishly. "Even -I- have to take a break from killing every now and then," she answers, before shaking her head at the giantess - a hand lifts to push her long hair back out of her face. "The news is welcome. I do not much care for the silly games of these surface-dwellers, but I'm starting to think it'd be a better idea to keep an eye on Kahran's movements, if I can."


Oline slowly stood, grunting slightly in exertion as the pain of her injuries (and the poison still being worked out of her system) radiates through her torso. "Ah saw 'im appear outta th'bleedin' air... frum nopless. Iffin yeh kin keep track'a tha'... Ah'mma hafta 'ave yeh teech me yer elfy ways." Another chortle of laughter, somewhat more reserved, came as she turned to give Encara an appraising look. "Majick 'n ullkinzza shet... juss' poof't inn'n owdt 'n back aggen..." she sighed, scratched her head, and took a step closer. "Ah'd nawt lahk ta hear yeh bit th'dust... aye? If yeh tryn' follow th'bastuhd... dun git corpsed."


Encara catches Khova again, scooping him into her hand when she too rises to her feet - the drider is deposited in the safety of her satchel, where he'll likely nibble through all of her food and leave just the crumbs, the little bastard. "There are ways," she says with a small shrug, tugging and adjusting her cloak while the wind rustles its ragged edges. "The Underdark is home to many beasts that leave only a faint trail. I can hunt without my eyes - all I need is his signature." A faint smile quirks her lips as she meets Oline's eyes, gentler for a moment before it broadens into something altogether more feral. "I am drow," Encara states with total confidence, "A man like this is not enough to kill me, Oline. Nor you."


Oline felt the savagery of her bloodlust return. Valkr's mercy, how she wanted to find this man and rend him limb from limb... she desired it so badly that the thought of it made her chest ache! "Ah'm gunna make 'im wish 'e 'ad kill'd me!" she murred almost musically, returning Encara's feral smile with a look of sheer sadistic glee. "... Ah'll save yeh a piece, though. If yeh lahk." The giantess' stomach growled, and at last she remembered what it was she had come here to do. "Ah'm s'postuh be fahndin' sumthin' ta eet. Dun s'pose yeh've seen anythin' tasty lookin' rownd 'ere recent-lahk?"


Encara's scarlet eyes practically sparkle with wicked approval. "Keep talking like that and I may start to like you," laughs the drow in a voice as sharp as thorns; jagged, dangerous, ready to draw blood. Altogether, there's an air of savage delight in her words, though. Turning her head, she stares out over the precipice to scan the surrounding mountainside, humming thoughtfully as she considers Oline's question about food. "Plenty of birds nest on the cliffs around here. They're safe from predators… well," She slants the giantess a look, "most predators."


Oline snorted out loud and rolled her eyes. "Dun act lahk yeh dun lahk meh... yer nawt foolin' ennybuddy." she chirped in a tone so saccharine it almost had to be sardonic. "S'fahn. Ah've juss gawt wunnu've them fessez." she adds, eyes slowly turning upward, further along the mountain path. She's obviously searching for any signs of such a nest... but that doesn't prevent her from also using it to coyly avert her gaze and hide the grin splitting her lips. "Ah'll grow on yeh affore yeh know it... mmh... eggs.... tha wu'un be half bad... ennen yer gunna letcher guard down... 'n Ah'll hafta club yeh upsahd th'hedd 'n drag yeh back t'mah pless 'n meck ya fold mah loincloths're sum shet..." she was just rambling, now. Hunger induced verbalizations... remedied easily enough if she ever managed to find one of those birds. Oline had never been very good at catching birds... or spotting nests. Maybe further down the cliff? She peeked over the edge and stared down at the steep mountain beneath... swallowing hard again. "... eya, birdee... why dunchyeh c'mup 'ere en lemme eet you?"


Encara scowls and, naturally, snaps back immediately, "Don't push your luck." She shakes her head, expression caught somewhere between annoyed and amused. Sharp eyes trace the rocky formations around them, searching for the telltale signs of a nesting bird — scuffed stone streaked with white, stray feathers, and outcroppings large enough to hold the nest — while her hand goes for her quiver and draws an arrow. It's nocked to Encara's bow as she turns and puts the precipice to her back, casts Oline a dark glare at her mutterings. "What exactly do you take me for? If you're looking for a meek little wife to cook for you and massage your legs, I'm not it." She rolls her eyes, too, before the drow throws herself back over the edge of the cliff without warning, plummeting into the mist and vanishing from view… just for a moment. Then the arrow shoots back up, lodging itself into a tight crevice - attached to it is a long rope of solid black, almost insubstantial, like a shadow, but clearly quite sturdy. Further down on the other end of the rope, Encara crashes into the rock face, boots scrabbling to find purchase on a slick ledge while several large birds, startled by her sudden appearance, take to the air with raucous calls. "Grab one, why don't you!" Encara shouts up.


Oline would have had to try a whole lot harder than she was presently willing to do so to not look impressed by all that. Of course, now she had to catch one... an interesting proposition, given their size and speed relative to her own. The giantess wasted no time, listening quietly as the shrieking, angry birds wailed their way up the side of the mountain. 'Crack!'... the sound rang out, silencing not one but two of the creatures at once. Her kanabo, smeared red with blood and now plastered with feathers, had lashed out and cleaved through the air with enough speed that both of the unfortunate creatures had scarcely seen the danger lurking at the top of the outcropping before meeting their doom. Another loud 'crack' of wood on flesh, and a third bird which had come up behind the rest found itself somersaulting through the air as the giantess' club caught it from beneath and popped it straight up... then down into her outstretched hand. The runes emblazoned upon the shaft of the war club flared brightly for a moment, then darkened once more, as Oline returned it to her shoulder and stepped away from the edge of the cliff to collect the other two birds. The excitement over, she called back out to wherever Encara might have been behind her, "Dun be ridickuhless... Ah en't lookin' ferruh bleedin' wahff!" she scoffed and shook her head, not anticipating anyone would see it, then began wringing the birds' necks just in case their high-velocity impact with the wall of the cliff hadn't finished them completely. "Ah'z juss giffin yeh a bidd've shet. Hecklin' yeh a liddle!" Off came a feather... then a few more... as the giantess tried to clean the gore from her club. Laughing snarkily, she piled up the feathers and bits of bird-guts on the ground beside her rock and settled back in for a moment's rest. "Ah kin tell yeh en't nevvuh met a gyuhnt-wahff! Meek ain't rilla wut they'z lookin' fer. Yeh gawt'a be able ta teck a beatin' lahk a glad-ee-yatuh... set bones lahk a fuggin' healuh... 'n fyuht alleast'z hard az yeh git beat... ulless yer keen on gettin' sold t'summ'n else fer a cow 're sum shet..."


Oline said to Encara, "B'sahds... Ah lahk yeh all stabby 'n bristles... wu'un wanna chayuhnch a theng!"


Encara says, "Khova— fetch." Hanging against the cliff face is all she's able to do herself, as the ledge turned out to be quite a bit narrower than she anticipated - she can barely maintain her footing, let alone hope to raid the nest on her own. Khova, having already feasted on the leftover meat in the drow's satchel, is feeling benevolent enough to help out, popping out of Encara's bag with an excited chirrup. Scuttling along the ledge, he clambers into the nest Encara landed near and begins rolling an egg back along to her; quite a feat considering their size is comparable to his own, but with his arms and many, many legs, the little drider keeps the eggs from tumbling to their doom. He's able to deposit three of them into her satchel before running out of space - then, taking him in her free hand and holding him close to her neck for safety, Encara focuses on Oline's presence above her, feels the weight of the giantess' shadow pooling out behind her like an inky cloak… and lets her magic draw her into it. She blinks suddenly into view on the clifftop, standing in Oline's shadow, and sniffs in a disgruntled fashion. "Most surface folk aren't foolish enough to heckle a drow. I'm not used to it," she admits, then holsters her bow and pulls her satchel round to show her the fruits of her labour. "Omelette?" Khova chitters happily.


Oline grins toothily at Encara, her silvery eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hang arownd lawng enuff, en yeh'll git yoostuh it." she chides playfully, collecting her pile of feathers and tucking them into her own satchel for later use. "Omelette? Wuzzat?" Obviously, some kind of egg-related dish... though she could only imagine what sort it actually was. "Ah s'pose yer yoostuh folk bein' all scare't 'n squirmy arownd yeh, huh?" she mused, hoisting up a decapitated bird and setting to the task of plucking it. "Ah en't most surfiss folk. Sum maht tell ya Ah'm too stoopid t'know enny bettuh..." and there was a chance they were right, she was pretty stupid. ".. but Ah lahk ta thenk it's cuz Ah'm bigguh then 'em en Ent gawt nothin' ta be skurrt've."


Encara rolls her eyes, again. "I'm starting to think it's inevitable." Her shadowy rope has vanished without a trace, leaving the lone arrow embedded in the rock just above her head - Encara reaches up to yank it out and, after inspecting the tip, slots it back into her quiver. "Please don't tell me you just swallow them whole," she's talking about the eggs, "or raw… it's like an egg… pancake. A big flat egg." Realising how foolish she sounds, the androgynous ranger growls and stalks further along the cliff, ignoring the way her ears are beginning to burn. "You said Kahran had drow in his ranks - that is what most see, and they are right to be afraid. Most of the idiots who call the surface home are cowardly and weak."


Oline was laughing hysterically inside... but outwardly, she managed to keep her humor contained to a slight rumble of subvocal chuckling as she climbed back to her feet and followed behind Encara. "Yeh... well Ah wu'un skurrt've them, neethuh." she added, knuckles cracking. "Speshully aftuh they shot meh! Then Ah wuz gunna mash 'em inta rilla priddy pink mist... mebbe summ'a them feathuh-hedds too. Wooduh bin glorious." Oh yes... she'd quite nearly gone into a full-blown rampage. Had it not been for Kanna, the odds were quite good she'd have died a truly glorious death in battle. "Thennaggen..." she added with a thoughtful hum, "... Ah s'pose Ah wu'un be 'ere lernin' abowdt big flat egg pancakes. Izzey enny good?"


Encara is of half a mind to jump off the cliff again, but she keeps that to herself and only offers a half-hearted glare over her shoulder to Oline. "Well, you aren't weak or cowardly, are you." Maybe not that smart… Encara has yet to come to a firm decision on that front. While Oline fantasises about blood and battle, the drow picks her way along the ledge until she reaches a drier area, where the stones are covered in spongy mosses and lichen and a few stubborn trees cling to what little soil hasn't been blown or washed away. A cavelet in the mountain face provides a simple shelter from the wind and cold, enough that Encara thinks she'll be able to get a fire going without too much trouble. "Better when you have plenty of things to put in them, but…" She shrugs; they can make do with what they have. Setting her pack down, the ranger sets about gathering some firewood. "I have to cook it first."


Oline decided to make herself useful hunting down some tinder, mostly in the form of aforementioned moss and dried bark broken off from the trees. She even manages to find a Mountain Cotton protruding from a crevice near the edge of the cliff and tears up it's puffy fabric tuft before returning to the cavelet and depositing her finds upon the ground. The giantess secures a few solid-looking stones and assembles them into a ring, then punches the ground with enough force that it dents in to create a firepit. Not strictly necessary... but it'd certainly make cooking over it easier. "Ah'm fuhmillyuh widt cookin'... Ah'm nawt a complete savage.."


Meilani makes her way along the path up the side of the cliff. She refused to be treated more by the Frostmaw, opting for herbs and return visits for therapy. She winces every now and then as she walks, even limps from time to time, still suffering from her injury.


Encara might've muttered as she knelt down, "Could've fooled me," but it may also have been a figment of the wind. The tinder is gathered up with a nod of gratitude to Oline, piled into the depression pounded into the ground by her fist - the drow's hands gently push Khova back from climbing onto the soft bed of moss and cotton as she clicks her tongue and murmurs, "We don't want to eat spider, you idiot. Get the eggs." While her tiny drider companion scuttles off to tug her satchel open and scatter its contents haphazardly all over the place, Encara gets the fire going. It isn't particularly big, but it'll burn hot and last long enough to cook a meal over. Morbid curiosity prompts her to ask Oline, "Do you normally cook naked too?" before she glances up, spotting a familiar figure on the nearby path. Oh, it's spike-butt. Thankfully for everyone involved, Encara doesn't say that aloud.


Oline rolls her shoulder in a non-committal shrug and snorts. "Ah'm nawt comfuhtawble 'n clothes..." she states once again, adding "... it bothuh's Mah scars... 'n Ah'd ratthuh folks saw'em ennyway. Lets' em know Ah en't sum poor lass juss' beggin t'a be waylaid. It tell's em 'Ya mess widt me... 'n Ah'm gawna breck yer bleedin' fess.' ennen Ah dun hafta go rownd breckin alluv'emz fessis." She gives her bare chest a thump, snorts, and inches a bit closer to the fire. "Yeh shood try it sumtahm. Sumpless tha's nawt so fuggin' cold, tho, mebbe. S'nahss to juss siddarownd in yer own skin... fill tha' breeze... 're tha sun... 're roll arownd in th'grass..."


Meilani would make eye contact with Encara, frowning as she almost hears the drow's thought's. Either way, Oline's bare chested nature draws the death singer's eye. Her pierced brow raises as she limps closer, her eyes glued to Oline's lady bits with a light smirk. "I like the fashion statement." She says to the giantess as she inches closer to the fire herself. "I seem to run into you two alot."


Encara thinks she's getting too used to Oline's lack of… well, everything - her bare body hardly prompts any staring at this point, but perhaps that's no surprise as the drow is quite familiar with this sort of display back home. "You're not subtle," she states, though there's no judgement in her tone. "It's how you are… but it's not how I live. I don't need to brazenly display my scars to keep people away." She sniffs, grabs the egg off Khova before he can roll it straight into the fire, and places it in her lap as she drops to sit cross-legged before the crackling flames. "And not everyone's as comfortable in their own skin as you." Meilani gets a long look before Encara deadpans, "How's your butt."


Oline gave Meilani a quick looking over before scoffing teasingly and nodding her direction. "Wehll... iffin' yeh stahped stalkin' us... mebbe yeh wu'un keep fahndin' us in oudda-tha-way plesses." She laughed gingerly at this, careful not to overly disturb the bandaged wounds and risk starting them up to bleeding all over again. "Owz yer butt?" the words come out, almost simultaneously with Encara's... equally stone-faced. Not even the ghost of a smile. The timing on that was... impeccable. Not even planned.


Meilani would roll her eyes to the question, opting to cross her arms and clears her throat. "My butt is fine, thank you." She sighs, shutting her eyes. "It's my leg that I'm worried about, chances are it won't be the same." She sighs and looks to Oline, chuckling some. "I'm not stalking you, I normally go to out of the way places... "She frowns. "I understood you."


Encara's face splits into a wide grin as she barks a genuinely amused laugh. "I'm sure you'll walk it off, elf," she says to Meilani, the words not entirely unkind. Pulling a small frying pan out of her pack, the drow cracks and adds all three large eggs to it before shoving the pan on top of the flames and resting back on her arms. Khova, in his tiny handmade sweater, scuttles in tight circles around the edge of the campfire as performing some sort of ritual (if asked, Encara will insist that he knitted the jumper himself, not her. The guy's a spider - he better have learned to do something useful with his silk, after all). "What're you doing out here, anyway," she asks after a pause, blinking across at the high elf with faint curiosity.


Oline gave Meilani an amused smirk. "Yeh unduhstann me now, do ya? Ah wunnuh iffin it meenz Ah'm gettin eezeeuh ta unduhstann, 're iffin yeh gawdt yerself knocked upsahd th'hedd." She giggled gently as she brought her hand up to clonk herself upside the head, mimicking being knocked silly. "Then aggen... ya wuz priddy owd've it th'lass tahm we spoke."


Meilani blinks to Encara, she's right after all. She hurt herself and bounced back quickly, she can do it again. Oline is offered a somewhat confused grin, as some of what she said is lost, but the death singer understands still. "Those herbs are something, thankfully they gave me some for the road." She rubs her leg as she turns to Encara. "I like to hike, it's one way for me to stay in shape. "


Encara chimes in with a laugh, "Yeah, you were -really- out of it." A grin surfaces at the memory, but she shakes it off as she tilts her head to Meilani in a brief nod. "Best way, I'd say. Still good to take a break every now and then…" She pauses for a moment, then gestures to the frying pan and offers, "Omelette?" With the birds to go along with it, there's plenty of food for three, after all.


Oline reached in and snatched up the strange, flat egg. It really was a lot like an egg pancake... and just recalling hearing the word 'like a flat... egg pancake' coming from the lips of a drow very nearly made her burst out into another fit of giggles. The giantess rolled her flat egg up into a tube and took a bite out of the end, chomping down on it noisily. "S'nawt bad..." she chirped up, swallowing down the her first bite and taking another. "Betcha it'd be uhmayzin' with sum meat... mebbe sum kinna spice..." she trailed off, eventually zoning out entirely as the exhaustion from her day finally took hold. Her wounds, at least, would no longer fester with poison... and the strange association between giantess, drow, and now even Meilani... well... it had a meal tucked under it's belt. That had to count for something.


Meilani shrugs as she moves to have a seat among the drow and giantess. "Sure, thanks." She smiles to Encara before eyeing Oline once more. "As much as I'd like to take a break, I can't. " She pauses watching the giantess eat with something of a wincing look on her face. "My dancing and acrobatics are what makes my money, not much of that happening with a bum leg. I have to push to get it back, or I'll starve."