RP:Outcasts Resort Unto Their Like

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: A wolf, an avian, and a changeling meet up on a bridge. This might sound like the beginning of a joke but it's not. Instantly charmed by the avian, the changeling invites her to join the Mage's Guild and the Warrior's Guild while the wolf watches and makes her own judgements about the avian.

The Cenril-Kelay Bridge

For those who cannot fly, this bridge is the sole passage across a chasm so deep that even sunlight cannot reach the bottom. Here at the peak of the arch, the view is as beautiful as the fall would be deadly. Larket’s stone towers are visible to the northwest, stern and ever watchful. All across the western horizon, the Xalious Mountains rise up into the clouds, with the snowy city of Frostmaw somewhere beyond. More immediately west are green rolling hills and the forest Sage; the town of Kelay sleeps within. The port city Cenril, the distant island town Rynvale, and of course the adventure of the great sea all lie eastward. Far to the south, wheat fields rise up outside the swampy lands of Gualon, but the land nearer the bridge is barren and dry. These are the Milous Plains, of which this chasm used to be a part. The earth here fell away long ago, but there are still signs of the past written in the canyon’s jagged, inhospitable cliffsides.

Quintessa was standing near the edge of the bridge, her blue and hazel eyes cast westward at the distant mountain range of Xalious. Even in Cenril, her attention was focused on the Mage’s Tower, currently still usurped by a fringe group of cultists- she couldn’t deal with the outbreak of zombies any longer. The drawn hood of her fur-lined cloak obscured her face, but the scent of clove-flavored smoke betrayed her identity to those who knew her, another plume appearing over her head every time she exhaled. After a moment she peeled her mismatched gaze away from the west to peer into the gorge below, her elbows resting on the railings as she leaned over the edge. “How far down does it go”, she idly wondered, “And if I throw someone down there, will they survive?”

Demeter had gotten tired of just walking, why walk when you could fly? She flew over the bridge, catching the scent of smoke making her grey eyes turn. Landing near the bridge out of sight so she could wrap an enchanted cloak of illusion and sound. Keeping the sound of feathers quiet, and out of sight making Demeter look a high elf. Moving upon the bridge, a tall six foot two due to the extra two inches of the heeled boots. Adorn in black leather pants with many added pockets to keep her daggers of various lengths on her person. Black leather vest that kept her chest modest from view. A deep scar running across her face, slight L shaped nose. Grey eyes scanning the area as she progressed upon the bridge, not getting too close to the other. Pulling out a pouch of herbs and a sheet of paper, as she began rolling a smoke. Lifting it up to put between her pale pink lips, using her pointing finger as a tiny flame arose puffing to get it to light. Looking over the edge with curiosity, what was she staring at?

Meri can be seen walking across the bridge at a leisurely pace, her direction taking her out of the city of Cenril and toward the Kelay area. Presumably. Where Meri was really headed off to could be anyone’s guess, but she did not seem to be in a rush to get to her destination for she was more than willing to let the two women on the bridge serve as a distraction for whatever goals she had for her day. Even without the scent of the clove cigarette, there was a high probability that Tessa’s werewolf auntie would have picked up on the changeling's scent. The pungent smell of clove really only made her all the easier to identify. It would be Tessa that Meri approaches though, and the ever-so-obnoxious werewolf has no shame in attempting to steal what remains of Tessa’s clove cigarette. If she’s successful, Meri will enjoy a few puffs and will end up staining the butt end of the cigarette red with her lipstick. Nevermind the formal greetings. Hi’s and hello’s were overrated, as far as Meri was concerned especially when she did not care to mind her manners. When Meri speaks, her words are angled more toward the six foot two woman, Demeter’s height made her impossible to miss. Meri might not have thought much of the height had she seen the wings to match, Demeter would not have been the first avain Meri has met. Today Meri just assumes that Demeter is an abnormally tall elf. “If you’re wondering the same thing that she is? If you throw someone down there, they’re probably not going to survive. It’s a very long way down.” Meri knows. She once watched a certain red-head plunge to her death on this very bridge, the thought causes a frown to twitch at Meri’s red lips.

Quintessa tapped her foot on the stone of the bridge, her heeled boots clicking quietly against the smooth surface. Though she was too preoccupied to notice Demeter’s descent onto the same crossing, she was too sensitive to the sparking of magic when the avian lit her cigarette that she slowly turned around to face her. The changeling’s pale face was expressionless, her chalk white foundation making her skin seem almost porcelain in the afternoon light and the thick, black charcoal circles around her eyes making them seem sunken and undead. Standing at 5’10’’, Quintessa was surprised to see a woman who was taller than herself, elven-like or not, so after a moment the young spellcast finally betrays a hint of emotion; a curious loft of her ebony brow. Before Quintessa can greet Demeter, however, Meri had appeared to rob her of her cigarette, something the changeling relinquished without protest. She could have it, call it thanks for answering her question from before. Automatically, Quintessa reached into her cloak, a silver cigarette case housing her clove smokes withdrawn for a replacement. “Afternoon,” Quintessa finally greets the avian, an unlit cigarette pressed between her lips before a snap of her fingers triggered the cantrip that sparked it to life. “I don’t recognize you,” She removed the cigarette from her mouth and exhaled before continuing. “Are you a refugee?” The changeling’s gaze only flickered away for a moment, trying to surmise silently if Meri knew who this person was instead. She didn’t seem to recognize her either.

Demeter : When Meri spoke to her, her brows dropped into a tight forming V. Taking a long draw of the smoke, noticing the other two women were sharing their own. Demeter not one for sharing, least not yet. Being raised with no friends, only fellow militia. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of tossing someone over the bridge, and them not surviving. Almost smirking, but only her eyes showed the amusement of the thought. Noting the frown upon Meri’s painted red lips, thinking she must have known the female she spoke of. The weak always find a way to take themselves out, either biting off more to chew or emotions overrule the common sense. Taking her gaze away from the two, to look down, wondering if a death dive would be fun. Get close enough to the bottom, spread her magnificent charcoal wings out and escape the impaling of the ground. It would for sure be a rush. Then the other female spoke; Quintessa. Taking her attention away from her thoughts, her voice coming out in a strong Icelandic accent. “Of sorts.” Again, her grey eyes scanned them both slowly, her left hand traded her smoke to the right hand resting the hand that is now free upon the hilt of a sword just in case these two were a threat.

Meri was honestly surprised that she was not the tallest in the area. Compared to many women in the land, Meri usually and her five-foot-nine self was usually considered to be decently tall. Today? She was the shortest, a detail that is further exaggerated because the two taller women were also in heels. Meri preferred her combat-style boots and she didn’t like them to have even the slightest bit of heel to them. The fact that she did not know Demeter did not disturb the roguish woman in the slightest. In fact, much the opposite. It seemed to spurn Meri’s curiosity and the blonde took it upon herself to try and press for further details on this unknown woman. With one final drag on that clove cigarette, Meri offers it back to Tessa. And if Tessa indicated she was done with it? Over the bridge the remains would go. This would free up Meri’s hands for what happens next. The blonde steps forward toward Demeter and extends a tattooed hand toward the secret avain. Upon the knuckles of her extended right hand the word ‘love’ has been tattooed. On the left? The word ‘pain’. Any frown that marred Meri’s painted red lips is gone the moment that hand is offered toward Demeter and is instead replaced with a practiced smile. “I don’t recognize you either and that’s not something that happens too often to me.” Meri was in the business of being nosey. “The name is Meri. What’s your own name? And what do you mean...you are a refugee of sorts?” Maybe that last question was forward, but Meri has no shame. She’ll pry.

Quintessa paused for a moment, looking Detemer over until she spotted the sword she rested her hand on. Unable to hide her appreciation for a woman who carried a sword on her, the hexblade couldn’t help but smirk. Although her answer was vague, it at least was clear to her that this elf-like woman wasn’t a displaced citizen of Cenril. “Well, this isn’t the place to stop.” She held up a hand to refuse the cigarette Meri had ‘liberated’, letting her toss it over the edge where it would surely die. “This city has its hands full with the undead plague.” Quintessa paused to take a drag from her cigarette, licking her lips to savor the taste of clove. “Although, if you were a mercenary you might find work there.” The changeling was also ready to pry, but she had a different agenda in mind. “Can you use that thing?” Quintessa pointed at Demeter’s sword. “There’s better work than killing mindless undead if you’ve got the talent for it.”

Demeter eyed the hand, noting the tattoo on the hands. Not only that making sure no blade was hidden, sticking the smoke in her mouth before offering her own hand. Extending her hand caused the sleeve attacked to the tunic to lift, showing her own ink. Black with crimson outlines, same design that spread up to her neck across the collar bone. “Demeter Viviane Alabaster, outcast.” Her eyes never stopped scanning Meri, keeping keen eye on her hands. Not for sure if the high avian courts were searching to take out the Lamashtian after what she had done to the king, and not accepting death but embracing her ailment of sorts. “Outcast tzur warrior.” If her wings were able to be seen they had shifted tightly behind her, “I’m from far away, took years to arrive to these lands.” Removing the scarf that she had around her hair, revealing hip length braids of honey hue. “Undead plague you speak of is no worry to me, if I carry a sword I should know how to use it. Or else I’d end up cutting off my own hand.” Brows arched as she answered. “Killing undead is a good exercise to keep from losing my training. I don’t slay them other than for my own means.”

Meri :: No blades were hidden on Meri’s person, but that is not to say she was not armed. Meri saw no reason to carry her bastard sword around today, nor was her bow within sight, but a dagger still rested within reach at her hip and two sheathed blades were tucked carefully into the back of her boots. Did the psion really need a weapon though? Hm. Weaponry was not really the first thing on Meri’s mind though. While Demeter was trying to size up how much of a threat Meri was, the lycan was far more concerned with studying the details of Demeter’s tattoos. It sort of tugged at something in Meri’s mind, but the woman could not fully place why there was something just a bit familiar about those tattoos. She’ll have to dwell on that detail, but more than likely she’ll forget and end up lost in the bottom of a bottle before other avains like Brennia and Thamalys come to mind. “A warrior you say,” she was pretty sure that Quintessa was going to hone in one the same detail. The difference is? Meri no longer has a strong connection to the Warrior’s Guild. Not like she used to. She’d let her adopted niece claim the glory of pitching and recruiting the guilds to Demeter. Meri instead responds with an easy going, “Well met, Demeter. I s’pose when you go putting it that way, I am a refugee of sorts myself. Or was. I think I’ve been here long enough to have established a few roots..” Meri gestures to the walled city behind her. “For now, at least.”

Quintessa allowed her lips to part in a grin, showing off a row of sharp teeth as her left hand flipped her cloak behind her shoulder to show off the katana on her side. “Lovely to meet you, Demeter Viviane Alabaster, I’m known as Countess Quintessa Dragana of the Dark Forest, but you can call me Quintessa. No need to use titles with me.” Any clues that hinted to avian culture or heritage were lost on the changeling, as she had never gotten around to studying the race extensively. Not yet, anyway. Meri on the other kind seemed interested in those tattoos of hers, and that wasn’t lost on the young mage. “Outcast tzur warrior- why does that word sound familiar to me. Tzur. Tzur.” Quintessa repeats it a few times, racking her memory for when she had encountered it before. “It doesn’t sound like elven to me. Anyway, if you are looking for a place to train, the Warrior’s Guild in Venturil is always accepting recruits. It helps to be organized even if you plan on taking jobs lone-wolf style.” Her blue and hazel gaze flickered over to Meri for a moment. “Putting down roots isn’t a bad idea either, but the Guild is a good place to be if you are more of a nomad too. No obligations to hold you down. I like it better that way.”

Demeter figured Meri was from around here if she already knew someone. “Well met, what has made you a refugee before?” She was curious now, the row of sharp teeth on the other did not seem to faze her but she definitely took notice of it. Who didn’t mind throwing titles out, “Calling you all of that would be a mouthful alone, Quintessa.” They both did not seem to understand the word tzur, “I believe you call it a mage here.” Demeter’s lip quivered, resisting the urge to smirk as she thought she was of elven lineage. Good. “I would like that; training is never done for a warrior. I may or may not try to make roots here, or around others. So, I join, and I don’t have to have a blood oath to remain? I’ve already broken one before I left the past in the past.”

Meri took a step away from the two women, if only so that she can lean against the rail of the stone bridge they stand on. Yes, Meri is keenly aware that a forceful enough of a shove could easily send her over the rail, which is why she keeps a watchful eye out. Those eyes don’t shift toward Tessa or Demeter, at least not in that skeptical sort of way. She was pretty sure that neither would partaking in such an action, at least not during this scene. Maybe Tessa or Demeter will want her Meri dead one day, stranger things have happened in these lands. The conversation moves onto the Warrior’s Guild and Demeter indicates an interest in joining, which gets the gears turning in the blonde’s head. Were there other guilds that Demeter might be interested in joining? The angle in this is not really to be helpful, Meri wanted information. Whatever guilds Demeter seemed to be interested in would be rather telling of her skillset, no? So Meri prattles off a few more, “Aye, the Warrior’s Guild is a fine one to join if you are interested. There is also the Ranger’s Guild. The Devout’s Guild. The Adventurer’s Guild.” Note that Meri is quite intentionally leaving off both the Mage’s Guild and the Necromancer’s Guild. Cue Quintessa for that. Meri falls silent, but not entirely idle, for she starts digging through her satchel in order to locate her flask. She’d sip away while the two talked shop.

Quintessa nodded her head slowly, committing that word to memory. She’d likely be looking it up later, but for now she would focus on the here and now. “So, you are a mage as well?” This was good news to Quintessa and her eyes lit up at the clarification. “No, there’s no blood oath or anything, but the Imperator might recruit you into some half-baked heroic quest to kill subterranean monsorious radishes or something. I don’t know what to think about that lot, but they are good people. I’ve fought beside them for months and I’ll continue to do so until they tire of me… But if you are also a mage…” Quintessa looked to Meri as she named off all the others, giving her a nod of confirmation. “Aye, and there is a Mage’s Guild… But we’ve been evicted from the Xalious Tower so the Necromancer’s Guild is a better place to learn for the time being. Until we take the tower back, that is.” Quintessa grinned again at the avian woman. “If you want to make a really good impression on the new leadership, you could always help us reclaim what is ours. The battle is sure to be a bloody one and the Spellblade Corp. could use a new recruit.” Karasu will be happy about that, Quintessa was sure of it. “So what do you think? If you are interested in any of those places you’ve stumbled into the right two people.”

Demeter listens closely to Meri’s words. “What is a devout and adventure guild about? Rangers guild explains itself really. I am not that well with a bow as I am with blades.” Demeter’s eyes jerked to Meri’s hand as she reached into a satchel, the hand gripping the sword became tighter till noticed a flask. Figuring the two were only trying to be helpful, her hand moved from the blade but not too far from it. Spitting the smoke out of her mouth over the edge of the bridge, only seeing the flask reminded her she needs to refill her own, and soon. “Yes.” She looked to Quintessa as tiny flames could be seen dancing around the pupil, blinking them away. “Quest are good to keep me busy and moving. Pray tell why were you evicted from the tower?” That caused a minor smirk to appear on the right side of the lamashtian’s lips. Usually, the smirk would fade but it remained, “Bloody battles, and a win is what I like to hear. Who do we kill and go against to take it back?” Offering her hand to Quintessa, if accepted she would not grasp the hand, she would her forearm followed by a light squeeze. “Count me in.”

Meri :: Alas, as Meri no longer claims the title of ‘Adventurer’s Guild Leader’ her interest in going into much depth on either the Devout’s Guild or the Adventurer’s Guild is limited. “Devout’s guild is like...if you claim any devotion to any of the gods.” Meri does not, but she keeps her expression neutral and her opinion on the matter to herself. “Adventurer’s guild is like...if you want to go out on an adventure.” Deep, detailed, and Meri does not care to expand more. In fact she shrugs as she goes on to say, “But like Tessa said, if you sign up with the Warrior’s Guild, you’ll get thrown into plenty of these half-baked heroic quests.” At this point the blonde moves away from the railing that she was leaning against, “Anyways, it sounds like you two have some details to talk about.” Details that Meri is not dreadfully concerned with. Psions were not permitted into the Mage’s Guild and Meri has already done her time with the Warrior’s Guild. “I will leave you two it and continue on with my day. But if either of you ever want to catch a drink?” The blonde winks before she begins to travel on. “Don’t be shy. Though I am sure Tessa already knows she’s got an open invitation for that.”

Quintessa stepped forward to accept Demeter’s grasp, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under her booted heel as she crossed the distance to meet her. “Let’s just say that an individual by the name of Haladavar put himself and his cult’s needs above the needs of the Guild. They are the ones who’ve been blasting some kind of magic at Arh’Nuk every night. Anyway, they got the drop on us at first, but we’ve got something in the works that they’ll never see coming.” That’s all that Quintessa would talk about here. Once she introduced her to Odhranos he could decide to fill her in or not. After giving Demeter’s forearm a return squeeze, quick at figuring out forien greetings, she straightened up and gave her a more natural smile. “Right, I’ll be seeing you later. I’ve got some information on our mutual friend Mags to share with you. I know you’ll like it.” With that cryptic clue spoken to Meri, she fixes her mismatched eyes on Demeter and again and inhales slowly. Details. “The cult that has unrightfully usurped our tower is called the Ossian Order, a mysterious group of body snatchers. Their leader Haladarav possessed and murdered our Administrator, a man named Brenwyn as he secretly vied for support and took the tower by force when we were at our weakest.” Quintessa spoke of the Ossian Order with venom in her voice, indicative of a personal grudge she had on them. “But we are united once again, and building support of our own. As Arcane Stewart, I will personally vouch for you among our ranks if you understand what you’re getting yourself into.” As for the Warrior’s Guild, you can consider yourself a member already. These formal matters are only that, a formality. Imperator Lionel would agree with me, I’m certain. I’ll just make sure the chain of command knows to expect you. Having a new face will be refreshing out at Vigilanti Semper. I’ll mark it on your map.”

Demeter ’s L shaped nose from many breaks crinkled up, “Gods abandoned my bloodline long ago, I have none. My only god is my blade. I do like adventure, that one is interesting.” Eye lit up, “I love a good strong brew, ma’am. I will have to meet you up for one.” Giving a nod to Meri as she decides to leave. Demeter looked to Quintessa, even though the female seemed to not oppose any threat to her now she remained standing stiff. Alas, her hand no longer near the sword as she crosses her arms across the mid torso. Eyes darkening at the word cult, that is what the orders were ‘slay the undead cult leader’. It could not be the same group, could it? The venom in her voice gave her respect for Quintessa, she sought out blood not just revenge. Feeling as if there maybe a sense of understanding between the two of them. “Thank you- “Another foreign word for her to say, sounded almost struggled to get out. “That is well, Lionel? Who is Lionel?” Map? She did not have a map, “I do not carry a map, I have a good memory of locations. If you have a map, I will accept it. Especially if it is an area one could easily move past it.” Chewing on her bottom lip, “I like that you have a surprise for your enemy.

Quintessa nodded her head again, “I’ve got no use for gods.” She spoke, even going far enough to spit on the ground after she mentioned them. After a moment she reached into her cloak slowly to retrieve an old map she hadn’t needed since she was an apprentice in the same guild they spoke of. “Here, my old map. If you find that it’s no use to you, give it to someone else who might need it.” The map pointed out many locations, not just the Warrior's guild hall. Important places from Rynvale to Vailkrin were marked with the names scrawled on, places that were once relevant to Quintessa’s research. “Oh, and one more thing.” The changeling lifted up a brass torc, the markings already worn away to a smooth shadow of what it once was adorned with. “Take this. The Warrior’s Guild will recognize this token and know you speak the truth when you say you’ve met me. Unfortunately I cannot grant you such a token for the Mage’s Guild. Xalious Wood staves are much harder to come by.” Quintessa handed Demeter the object and mirrored the motion to cross her arms. “Lionel is the Imperator, the Guildmaster of the warriors. He’s blonde, brooding, and says things that don’t make any sense at all sometimes, but he commands a lot of respect from the Warrior’s Guild. One day the two of us will probably cross blades again, but for now we understand each other enough to be civil.”

Quintessa gave 1 brass torc to Demeter.

Demeter liked Quintessa even more when she spat on the ground over the thought of gods. With a nod, accepting the map. Eyeing it, taking note in the writing already upon the parchment. Carefully opening her cloak to keep the enchantment of her wings hidden, placing the map securely in a pocket. “I will pass it along to the next recruit that is in need of it when the time comes.” Next, she took the brass torc, curiously eyeing it before looking down to Quintessa. “Is he a drunk to say things that do not make sense to you? Or is it to everyone?” Taking his description as a mental note, so she would possibly notice who he is without him having to say his name. “Sometimes civil is hard to do, if you have crossed blades before but have managed a common ground. You have my respect.”

Quintessa shrugged when Demeter asked if Lionel was drunk when he said those things, but deep down she knew he was just a strange guy. “He often says things without context out loud, or addresses people who are not in the room. If you ask me he’s just taken too many hits to the head or something. Perhaps when he finally dies I will crack his skull open and check what his damage is.” Quintessa often stretched the extent of the meaning of the word ‘civil’. When the avian woman spoke of respecting the changeling she turned away bashfully, reaching for her cigarettes to hide her face. “And you’re willing to jump headlong into a fight you’ve only just heard about. That kind of recklessness is something I respect too.” Quintessa couldn’t hide the smile on her face, however.

Demeter almost laughed, instead a short lived chuckle escaped her throat. “Too many head injuries can do that, or mess up the face.” She points to her own nose, finger running along the scar. Another laughed had escaped which made Demeter’s face turn red with anger that someone was causing her to laugh, “Crack open the skull, check the damage and drink from it to celebrate his life.” Noting the bashful manner and trying to hide her face. “You shouldn’t hide a face that is as beautiful as your own. You're a special breed among these lands to manage a laugh from me, I forgot what it sounded like.” When she turned back around Demeter had her hand out, a flame dancing above her palm. Just in case she needed a light, “Why turn down a good fight? Especially a chance for others to fight beside you, not behind or against.”

Quintessa brushed her raven hair from her face, showing off the scar just under her eye on the left side of her face. “Thank you.” The young changeling was not so used to getting compliments about her looks, especially from tall warrior women. Quintessa placed the cigarette between her lips and leaned forward to accept the light. “And I’m not so easily flustered, so you must be something special yourself.” She leaned back against the railing once more before offering Demeter a drag. “I’ve been guilty of not picking my battles wisely,” Quintessa admitted with a smirk, gazing over at the horizon as Hollow’s twin moons slowly crept into view. The Ossian Order would no doubt be adding more runes to the surface of Arh’Nuk later tonight. “But I’ve learned a few things since I started my journey a couple of years ago. If you ever need a mentor for swordsmanship, spellcasting, or a mix of the two, I’d be happy to show you some tricks. My citadel in Vailkrin has the perfect space for a spar or technical demonstration. It’s up to you though- My offer is open.”

Demeter closed her hand to cause the flame to disappear once she had lit the smoke, taking the offered smoke. Take a drag before passing it back over, “I’ve tried to pick a fight just last night, but he didn’t seem to want any problems. So, instead we drank, glared, he went on his merry way.” It didn’t take long for Quintessa to wait for an answer, almost instantly. “Sword, spear is a yes for me. I do not know any spellcasting other than my fire if you consider that a spellcasting. Any battle or training exercise is something, the number one thing I won’t turn away.”

Quintessa was happy to hear that Demeter was interested in learning from her, the smile that tugged on her lips present as she reached for her cigarette. “Well, if you can create flames spontaneously in your hand then I can work with that.” Quintessa paused to consider this, taking a long puff from her clove smoke as she thought. “Sword and spear, hmm? Well, swords are my specialty. Curved, straight, piercing, small and light, two-handed. I’m an aspiring ‘sword-master’ if you will.” Already Quintessa had some good ideas for what kinds of maneuvers she could pass on to her. “But not tonight,” the changeling quickly clarified, “I have some personal research to conduct by myself tonight regarding Arh’Nuk.” She lifted her cigarette up to point up at the crimson moon in the sky.

Demeter noted the smile, does she smile often? Or was this someone she could eventually cut loose with and let her shield down somewhat over time. “I can and over my body but not is a large magnitude. The flames don’t get that large unless I use everything I can into it.” Nods, “Spear and sword, minor bow. I am very crafty with daggers and the like. Sword master is a goal, personally not easily achieved but goal. It be nice to train together, let me know when I will fly in.” Glancing at the sky before she looked back to her. Placing her left arm over her chest, bowing the top part of her body. “May your travels be fruitful, Quintessa. Don’t let too many moons pass before we meet again.” With that she turned, heading back towards Kelay.