RP:Got a Light?

From HollowWiki

Part of the Surface Tension Arc



Synopsis: After his run-in with Skylei, Nymh comes across Orikahn who is trying to light a fire. When Nymh and the drow who accompany him ignore Orikahn's request for flint, the latter grows irritated. As conflict threatens to rise yet again between the drow and those on the surface, Nymh defuses the situation using song to reinstate tranquillity.

Kelay Way

Nymh moved through the streets of Kelay, alongside a group of drow assassins, all cloaked and armored, and glancing shiftily all about them. Nymh was dressed only in his dark spider silk tunic and breeches, and with that glass blade at one hip and an ebony ocarina at the other. He looked weary, walking alongside the drow patrol, and would stop under some shade as they dispersed to go buy supplies... all close enough to keep an eye on him. He sat upon a barrel, and fingered his ocarina, playing a silent melody in his mind. He was here to observe, but as always, it simply felt as though he were a prisoner.


Orikahn is too tired for stealth. After a long morning of carnage and slaying, the massive cat lacks either the energy or the gumption to maintain silence, and so his bulky armor answers his every step, a voluminous announcement for a voluminous beast. Gore and bloody cruor are his marks of honor today, shining brightly like sticky badges and medals, all splattered, dripped, and dangling over his manifold plates and joints. A thick bushy tail swings behind him, black with auburn stripes, twisting along like a saltwater snake, one of the few parts of him that has somehow managed to remain unblemished through the slaughter. With a drow bow in one hand, and a dripping severed head in the other, Kahn shuffles into town. A long garland of bleached sculls rattle at his hip, all humanoid. He stops in the town square and lifts his visor, revealing a fully feline face, complete with maw, whiskers, and saber teeth that gleam like ivory daggers.


Nymh wasn't sure what he was looking at, when he first laid eyes on Orikahn. He was covered in blood, and looked like some sort of furred monstrosity, with oversized fangs. That ended up being a rather accurate appraisal... and the danling skulls, and severed head attested to the danger of the creature. It was times like these Nymh was actually glad to be in the company... or custody... of the assassin squads. He wouldn't comment on the creature, nor offer it words, only make certain he knew the location of the nearest of the drow in case he found himself a target of the creature... he was uncertain how he'd fare in battle with such a thing.


Orikahn sizes up his surroundings, narrowing his green eyes in judgement, a deep frown of scrutiny bending his thin black lips as he drinks it all in. Ultimately he nods, and without much ado or ceremony, Kahn drops the severed head on the stones of the square, letting it land with a hard, sickening splat, jetting a little gout of blood out the severed neck as it falls. Dropping to one knee, he unshoulders his sizeable pack and procures a bundle of sticks and kindling. It only takes him a second to unsheathe his index claw and neatly sever the twine bundling the sticks together, and before long he's arranged a neat little teepee fire, minus the fire of course, so far. He continues busily setting up a little camp, right in the middle of town square, pulling out a kettle and jug and other necessities, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. At long last, he curses as he digs, and he shouts in a deep basso (to no one in particular) "Does anyone have any flint?" Fiercely, he looks around, trying to catch the eye of a bystander.


Nymh blinks, as the monster cat calls for flint. He was sure to avert his gaze, should those eyes wander in his direction. There was no way he was getting close to that thing. In fact, it was about time for him to get moving. He'd move to the side of some of the drow assassins, who were watching the monster cat with bored expressions, or pointedly ignoring the oddity of his setting up camp in the middle of town. When they began walking away, he breathed a sigh of relief, and followed. He got enough craziness and needless bloodshed among his own kind... he didn't need to get into trouble behind enemy lines with some insane beast with a pair of teeth almost as long as his shin bone.


Orikahn sees the party of drow standing to move. He snorts. Pulling his visor free from his head, he sets it on the ground beside him. "Excuse me." He shouts after the dark elves. "I said *excuse me,* do any of you," he points directly at them, "militant, inbred miscreants have a flint, or some other kind of firestarter?" Kahn raises his brows expectantly.


Nymh curses his luck, as the drow turn as a unit to look at Orikahn. There are varying opinions on how to respond, but the first of the half dozen assassins that stepped forward did so with the arrogant stride that was so remarkably drow. "Insipid stray." He waved a hand, and the sticks would be lit with faerie fire... it looked as real flame, save purple, but wouldn't burn anything. There'd be some laughter, as the group turned to leave, uncaring whether the feline actually tried to use the faerie fire as a fire, or not. Nymh would turn with them, hoping that would be the end of it.


Orikahn starts in mild surprise as the purple flames leap forward to engulf the tinder and sticks. Surprise turns to smug satisfaction, and he gathers up the kettle, ready to set about his business, and he takes a deep satisfied breath through his nose. He pauses. Smug satisfaction turns to doubt. Another snif, and he leans in, inspecting the fire more closely. Doubt melts into disgust. "You impotent, insolent, misbegotten mongrels," Kahn virtually growls the words and stands again, assuming his full seven-foot stature. Gesturing with an accusing open hand, fingers splayed and claws unsheathed, he indicates the nearest drow. "You've managed to make a fool of me once. Let's see you try it again, you petulant cave maggot."


Nymh noticed the immediate shift in the drow, as the feline's claws came out. They moved as one, drawing blades and hand crossbows dipped in horrific poisons, fanning out to take up powerful offensive positions around the now familiar territory. This was an assassination squad, of strong, capable killers, thirsty for blood. They were told not to start unnecessary conflict... but the conflict had now come to them, like a virgin sacrifice. Bolts were leveled at him from hand crossbows hidden under billowing piwafwi's, pre emptive strikes ready to be made in advance of the actual assault. A half dozen of them would be impossible to avoid, and Nymh drew to the backline, bringing forth his ocarina, hoping to defuse the situation before the bloodshed began. He began to play, and the song would affect everyone around, including the drow. It was a magical song, to instill calmness, and tranquility. The drow seemed to relax, a little bit, looking back queerly at him as he played. Some were unsure of whether or not to cut his tongue out, and stop that music. If the seven foot monster stood down, though, it seemed likely they would as well.


Orikahn presents himself as the very paragon of foolish bravery, apparently undaunted by the swords, bows, or bloodthirsty looks. Eyes like marbled jade dart from one to the next to the next, sizing up each, making silent note and count of his adversaries and their arms. As his jaw grits and his legs tense, and his tail wavers to ready for the imminent clash, his ears perk beneath his hood, pressing gently upward to catch the soothing melody floating through the air toward him. Kahn's arm involuntarily lowers as he cranes his neck to listen, and when he leans forward, the gesture is not in the least bit aggressive. Firest, insults, and combat forgotten, the massive cat scarcely even feels himself succumbing to serenity...


Nymh would press forward through the drow, as they looked on at him, some with barely disguised disdain, as he gave a flint he'd pilfered from one of them during his song to Orikahn. "No need for violence. Here, take it, and go in peace." The drow would be giving him a lot of shit for this, but the song had calmed them enough to make them lower their weapons. He'd hold the flint out by hand, doing his best not to show fear in the face of the huge predator.


Orikahn blinks down at Nymh, staring through him at first, then 'coming to' as the drow holds out the flint. Dazedly he accepts it, brow furrowing in hesitant recognition as he accepts the flint, claws retracting so calloused pads and blood-matted fur can pick it from the drow's palm. "Yes, thank you." Kahn grumbles. The effect of the music is fading, now, as his thoughts grow clearer he examines Nymh more intently, sizing him up, though perhaps not quite as he sized up the assassin squad. To the contrary, there is something new in his expression: respect. "This was just what I was looking for." Pocketing the flint, offering a more salutory nod this time, he backs up a pace, kneeling beside his fire again. Blinking again, he remembers to pull the flint from his pocket and begin striking sprays of sparks onto the tinder.


Nymh was practically holding his breath, as the great feline took the flint, and the drow turned to be about their way again, muttering under their breath. He'd return the nod, and be moving off after the drow, as if he was caught off on his own again, he would taste the lash. He was glad he'd been able to avoid violence... especially with a monster like that. Shatterscourge had a taste for blood, but he had little doubt that it'd taste more of his own blood than that of the seven foot tall behemoth of a headhunter. Not to mention, engaging in a fight next to his drow assassin companions would be about as dangerous as fighting against them... they'd use the skirmish, likely, as an easy excuse to murder him and cover it up as a casualty of battle.


Orikahn is soon blowing on a merrily crackling fire, cheerful flames climbing up over tinder, twigs, and sticks alike. With a sigh of contentment, Kahn rolls back to rest on his haunches and put his kettle on.