RP:Maladroit Plays Fetch
Background
Maladroit's malevolent sense of humour shines once more, while Jolie makes a new acquaintance.
Overlooking Gorge
Sovani , standing roughly twelve feet in height, split her attention between the smoke billowing with noxious fumes of melted earth and ore wafting from the gorge and the seemingly dubious strength of the bridge that spans it. The giant did not trust that the minutely fissured ground would hold her considerable weight and yet she needed to cross. "Hmm," she murmurs in what to her is a quiet sound of contemplation. It may have rumbled a bit louder than Sovani intended. The few birds which chose to perch in rest along the hand-rails of the nearly restored structure took to flight squawking and chirping their respective protests at the priestess' interruption of their sojourn. Watching them with glacial blue eyes Sovani sighs and turns away to begin finding another way into the town she knew lay just across that broken bit of ground.
A lone eagle flew overhead, its wide wingspan making graceful circuits through the endless blue void above that fathomless gorge upon the lip of which Sovani hesitated. But the raptor’s serene flight would end abruptly as a jagged shadow stole the sun from it, casting the hapless bird into a mid-air panic. From under the rorschachian mists of clouds, the shade – more properly the silhouette of some frightful beast – loomed and swooped, snatching the hook-beaked predator from the air as a swallow might snatch a gnat, the eagle clamped in multi-jointed fingers subsequently stuffed toward the belly of the creature mid-flight. Moments later its husk dropped like a feathered stone not far from where the Frost Giant stood. The source of this unexpected ‘windfall’ lurched from out of the sky to make a four-point landing on apelike knuckles, its blind and faceless head apparently bereft of sensory capacity, nevertheless canting with strange intent upon the departing priest. On the horror’s bony back sat astride a diminutive woman, all of five feet minus the five-inch steel heels that trod little divots from the dust of the road once she had disembarked the familiar. Cold, peridot gaze set upon Sovani, the dark-haired woman spoke. “It’ll hold you,” she called after a long and silent moment, guessing the source of the giant’s resigned retreat. “Stronger than it looks.”
Sovani looked up at the otherwise clear sky the moment shadow encroach upon her own. The death scream of the eagle did not appear to phase Sovani rather the appearance of that unnatural flying creature. The moment the corpse of the avian should thump hollowly upon the ground the giant tore her gaze away with a slight shudder to look at it. The eagle was now no more than a husk of its former glorious self and the priestess said a brief prayer to Aramoth for the noble bird. It was about then Sovani took note of the easily missed woman, her first thought being how tiny and fragile this being was to ride the back of the featureless flier. Of their own accord, Sovani's pale blue eyes refused to look directly at it and settle with more familiarity on the figure speaking to her. Looking down, as that is all the giant found herself doing of late, Sovani bent her knees in an attempt to be less intimidating and large. Feeling that was not quiet enough the priestess kneels, resting back on her heels and folding her hands together politely. "Do you think so?" she asks with a curious tilt of her head that draws chestnut locks over a padded shoulder. "I do not wish to test that. Not even I could swim out of what flows beneath." Another, longer silence falls as she studies the dark haired woman. "I am Sovani Redgrave, Battle Priestess of Aramoth. I thank you for your assurance."
Jolie was not easily intimidated and her cool, clear gaze would display no such emotion it studied the giant with a blatant sort of scrutiny, perhaps leaving the impression of vague judgements passed. That frigid perusal followed Sovani as she knelt, the necromancer opting to remain on her feet for the ensuing conversation. “Bigger creatures cross with impunity, Sovani of Temple Aramoth.” She was not in the habit of repeating herself so left it at that with a one-shouldered shrug. Noting the arctic hue of the giantess’ own gaze, she said, “And you are far from home.” Behind her, the abomination skulked toward the lip of the gorge, its bullet-shaped head dipping to peer, in its own inexplicable way, over the edge of the precipice.
Sovani could be said to be pleasantly surprised that the woman did not seem the least bit intimidated by her much larger size. Giving one last at the bridge with no small amount of speculation, the giantess' mouth splits into a wide grin, "Why, maybe they have. Maybe they have, indeed." Aramoth protect her, Sovani would cross that bridge. Not today but soon. Today was a day for meetings it appeared. Sovani very briefly shot a glance towards the skulking, which she thought oddly graceful for the amount of time she watched, then to Jolie. "Home is not so far that I cannot return when called upon." The grin turned into a smile, "And you? Are you far from home such that it requires flying to get about?" Sovani could not bring herself to put a name to the thing on which Jolie rode.
Wisps of liquorice-hued hair blew across pale features, ruffled thus by the ill winds that wafted up from the abyssal pit nearby. Hooking them with equally pallid fingers to draw them into place, Jolie returned what passed for a reasonably affable smile. "Not far at all. But I do get about…" All the while she studied the massive stranger, taking in details and potentialities, filing them away in her labyrinthine memory, the gaunt was making itself conspicuously absent and then re-appearing, its mottled wings snapping out to blackish fans that allowed it to plunge into the crevasse. On each return, it carried a dented and occasionally bloodied item, all of them colossal in proportion to its tiny mistress, and each of which was duly deposited at the gorge's edge. Ignoring this mysterious activity utterly - for who knew what intentions such a creature may harbour in its spongy, deformed brain - the sineating Mistress of the Dark Arts continued with curt but sociable conversation. "I have been to your homelands," she offered. "On occasion. Most interesting. Particularly the ancient region to the west. What part of Frostmaw do you hail from, Sovani?"
Maladroit dropped 1 adamantite boots.
Maladroit dropped 2 rune-inscribed wristband.
Maladroit dropped 2 mystical silver-band.
Jolie's capricious familiar ignored the conversing necromancer in kind, and went on making a lie of her affirmation as to the bridge's infallible safety by retrieving the belongings of some its larger victims, one by one.
Sovani crinkled her nose as that same wind blew the stench of death into her face along with acrid tendrils of smoke. Sovani was aware of being studied and measured and took no offense as she was doing the same. Rising to her feet to escape that horrid smell and failing at that, the giant chose to endure. As a battle priestess she would have to deal with much worse in the middle of a battle eventually. There was always war and fighting somewhere. "I do not get about so often," Sovani returns and after answers, "I was born and raised near the fort though often I have explored the ruins and ancient remains to the west. It has been a while since I have had a moment to go back. My training in Aramoth's temple is near complete." All that would finish would be for the female to gain experience in battle and put her knowledge to use. With the troubles of late Sovani did not doubt that sooner or later her talents would be called for.
Jolie nodded, “I hear fine rumour of Aramoth’s warrior priests.” The tone she used was casual but by no means flippant. “I dare say the Ice Queen will welcome such skills.” Here, her lips curled to a faint smile. “To guard those poor refugees, perhaps.”
Maladroit had finished playing fetch. The wretched creation dragged each item closer to the pair, slinging them toward the giant to clatter and skid at Sovani’s feet.
Joliette finally cast her attention on the gaunt, and not warmly. “Very funny,” she said, clearly meaning quite the opposite.
The reanimated shell housing the once-goblin wibbled its fingers, in a foul and unconvincing approximation of innocence.
Sovani took the compliment in stride by giving a knowing nod of her head. "We are the best." Not a hint of pride was heard in the decoration. It was a fact as far as Sovani was concerned. "Certainly we are more useful than just to babysit spindly elves who know no better than to come to Frostmaw with only the thin scraps of cloth they call clothing and think a few hunted furs will keep them warm." Clearly the giant was not fond of the sanctioned invaders but she will bend to the will of the Queen and the Queen allowed them to stay. Clatters and metalic rings at her servicely booted feet at last force Sovani to give notice to the faceless leather-winged thing. The collection of magically embued items from those piled bodies caused a brow to hitch upwards, "Is what I am wearing not sufficient?" Glancing down at herself, Sovani frowns at the breastplate and leather. It's the first time Sovani had had a doubt about anything.
Jolie’s familiar could not have replied, even if it possessed the modicum of any kind of inclination to do so, which it did not. Wandering to the necromancer’s side, it hunched down as though by some unheard command, wings closing tight around its ribby form, whiplike tail curling its barbed tip clear of Joliette’s proximity.
“I dare say you’ll do well enough in a pinch,” the necromancer imparted to Sovani lightly. She paused to make a lithe ascent to settle on the monstrosity’s back. “Ignore my familiar. His humour is dubious at best. And do as you wish with his .. toys.” The vicious pinch she gave the creature caused no flinch in it, but if a faceless visage could be said to hold the air of malevolent amusement, Maladroit might seem to do so as those batlike sails unfurled once more and stringy limbs pushed off the earth to launch itself and its Mistress airward. “Well met, Sovani of Frostmaw, priestess of Aramoth,’ she called, in parting as the two gusted upward and away.
Perhaps the giantess would note at some point that the petite stranger had never once offered her own name in return.