[Closed] A Night by the Seaside

by **Kirvan Deepseeker** on October 5th, 2012, 12:57 am

All around, things were picking up. All the Svefra had dragged the corpses into piles in preparation to take them out and throw them in the sea. It sounded like a lot of unnecessary work, but their deaths were demanded by Laviku and hence their remains should be his to do with as he pleased. That was the way the Deepseeker pod lived. Some were looking through the clusters of bodies, searching for anything of value like a decent weapon the could be cleaned and reused or a trinket that could be used for bartering. Those that weren't scavenging were quickly picking up the celebration where the pirates had left off, some even picking up half-filled bottles that the pirates themselves had been drinking only half a bell ago. A few of the pod went to their boats to retrieve various items, like brews from their own stash or musical instruments. Linda, an old raiding buddy of Kirvan's, had become quite a good flute player in the intervening years since she first picked it up, and the wooden instrument often accompanied the dances that the Svefra held. Such a brightening mood might have been a stark contrast with the grim massacre that had just occurred, but to the Deepseekers it was something to celebrate, another justice dealt to the enemies of Laviku.

Kirvan had a while to wait before he could join the festivities though. Aside from the odd glance, the strange black-furred woman wasn't paid much attention to, despite being injured. As he drew closer, he noticed the woman giving a wary look to the shirt Kirvan was carrying. Looking down at the makeshift bandage himself, he agreed it was far from ideal, but it was all he had at the moment. Although, now that he gave it a real close look, the bloodstains and the dirt were probably too dirty to effectively use it as dressing. Durk had always told Kirvan that the bandage could be whatever was on hand as long as the dressing was clean and preferably sterilized in some hot water. Well, you worked with what you had, right? Though there was a fine line between being resourceful and being dangerous.

Drawing close, Kirvan saw the woman raise her wings and crouch slightly, wincing a bit as she did. Kirvan slowed down, raising his hands to his sides in a gesture of peaceful intentions. "Just want to help out," he said in Common, hoping she understood looking her over. As before, her black fur was covered in splotches of crimson, barely visible against the dark coat.The fur around her elbows and knees was slightly brighter, and her red eyes had an almost otherworldly look to them. As he scanned her, searching for any injuries besides the obvious one, and saw that some of the skin on her right calf was hanging loose, blood steadily leaking from it and getting soaked into the beach. Her hamstring appeared to be intact as she was still able to stand, but it was obvious this was a more serious injurt than a stab to the gut, one that needed to be attended to by someone with more than theory lessons.

Turning the shirt inside out and it up so that one of the solitary clean patches was on the exterior, Kirvan kneeled and held the stranger's side, pressing the bundle into the wound once she had removed her hand. This alone wasn't going to do it though, so he scanning the surrounding area, looking for Durk. He was unsurprised to find his big friend closer to him than to the growing crowd of Svefra, wrapping up minor wounds sustained by various fighters, finishing up with Hamlac who seemed to be the last. The younger warrior had been nicked a few times on his arms by various short-bladed weapons, the wounds mostly superficial but prone to infection if left exposed.That he knew all this surprised Kirvan. Perhaps Durk's experience was rubbing off on him somewhat.

"Hey Durk!" he called to the big guy, switching to his native tongue of Fratavan. Facing Kirvan at the sound of his name, the small giant's warm blue eyes greeted Kirvan, his unruly black hair and growing beard giving him a somewhat grizzled look. "Can you help us out over here? She's got a few injuries that need treating."

Nodding, Durk packed all the unused supplies back into his bag and began hurrying over, Hamlac following close behind, curious. Kirvan turned back to the woman who had hopped in and helped out of nowhere, eager to satisfy his curiosity but at the same time aware of the injuries. "Thanks for coming in by the way," he said, returning to Common so she could understand him. "Was that you grappling with the other captain I saw?"

by **Xiani** on October 5th, 2012, 2:51 am

Xiani continues to gaze at the man with a slight hint of distrust, despite his calm reassurances. Somewhat nervously, she moves her clawed hand out of the way so that he can press the slightly clean area to her wound, better absorbing the slow bleed than her hand was. Disgusted at the sight of her own blood, she flicks her wrist to dispel droplets onto the sand, then wipes the rest off on her thigh. "Thank you." To her obvious surprise, her voice comes out rough and gritty, an effect, she guesses, from inhaling sand. She coughs twice, the constricting causing her body to squeeze more blood from the wound in her abdomen, and then hisses in pain. She tilts her head back in an attempt to hide the weakness in her face, wings trembling as her leg grows weaker from having to support the weight normally held by the other. I cannot fall... she thinks, steeling herself.

When the man calls out to his companion, Xiani starts slightly, having been so caught up in her own mind that the loud shout caught her off guard. That never happens... it must be because of the pain. The man is wide and muscular, a build one does not often find - in her experience - among the lithe seafolk, and his hair is dark instead of being lightened by the sun. But, as all the others, he shares dancing blue eyes, resembling waves on a cloudy day. She watched in vague fascination as the man packed up his strange implements and ran across the sand, the man he had been treating not far behind.

At the man's thanks, Xiani can do naught but smile, realizing that they thought she had come to help. No point in giving them grizzly details... she admits to herself, taking a moment to find the words in common that would fashion an acceptable response. "I saw a good fight coming and felt like it would be fun to join. Yes, I did fight the other... captain was it? He was very strong but a fool." She fights the need to cough again and clear her throat, but loses bitterly to a series of racking coughs, one of which is so powerful her entire body tenses, refreshing the bloodflow in her leg and causing her wings to snap back almost painfully on reflex. A string of shrill, Zith curses flow from her taut lips as she tries to ignore the new wave of pain and fresh dizziness that spreads through her.

by **Kirvan Deepseeker** on October 5th, 2012, 3:46 am

As the strange woman before him started coughing violently, Kirvan rose from the ground and hooked his shoulder under hers, being sure to keep the bundle in place. Supporting her, he turned to face Durk, who was nearing them as he ran across the beach. "Stab wound to the stomach and flayed calf," Kirvan informed the small giant in straight Fratavan, knowing that the sooner he knew what was wrong the better. "Don't know why she's coughing though, that only started recently." Just as he said that, a particularly nasty hack made the woman's body go rigid, tensing as if to try to alleviate pain. Her wings snapped backwards sharply, pushing against Kirvan's arm and forcing him to readjust his position so he could continue to support her.

Durk set down his bag and took out some dressing and ointment, immediately getting to work disinfecting the open wound, carefully applying sparing amounts of the cold liquid to the skin before pressing a small square cloth against it, covering the entire wound with the clean patch, putting Kirvan's shirt bundle to shame. "What is she?" Hamlac asked, standing not far away and watching the proceedings with mild interest.

"Don't just stand there gonad, hand me a bandage!" Durk shouted at Hamlac. He may have been a gentle giant in most cases, never really fighting on the front lines and always treating things tenderly, but when it came to his work he was very passionate indeed. Kirvan always learned a lot just by watching the big guy do his thing, though he had yet to actually put any of it into practice. Pushed into action, Hamlac rummaged around in the medicine bag and emerged with a roll of linen, passing it to Durk who proceeded to wrap it around the wound, overlapping several times to make sure that the dressing was pressed firmly in place and would stay there.

Rising from beside the furry woman, the buff doctor beckoned for Kirvan to remove his bundle. Once the soaked shirt was out of the way, Durk repeated the process of applying the ointment and dressing to the wound in her abdomen, Kirvan supporting her with both arms now after having tossed aside the now useless garment. When it came time to wrap the bandage around her torso, Kirvan had to pass the linen around and behind the woman's back as to avoid any slack or mistake, or indeed to avoid wrapping Kirvan to her as well.

"I watched you fight that vagik captain," Hamlac commented to her in Common as he watched the medical procedure. "You fight lithely and agilely, much like Kirvan here, and seem light on your feet like him as well. You both also seem to be equally savage when it comes to going for the kill," he added, observing the snapped neck of the woman's victim and the nearly severed head of Kirvan's adversary. "I must say however, even though you're not the only unarmed combatant I've seen, you're the first I've watched take down a guy that big with nothing but her hands and, er, wings," Hamlac finished uncertainly, looking at the membrane. "What are you anyway?"

"Later Hamlac," Kirvan replied as he and Durk finished the final wrapping and the medic tied it off in front of her. With the treatments done, Kirvan eased her down onto the sand, careful to be gentle with her. Even if she was normally much more resilient, all strength could easily be sapped when injured. Once she was sitting comfortably, Durk went to retrieve something from his medicine kit and returned with a small phial of liquid, too clear to be water.

He held it out to the woman. "It's a mild anesthetic," Durk explained. "For the pain more than anything. I don't carry much of it though, not many of the Svefra here want it."

by **Xiani** on October 6th, 2012, 2:27 am

Despite her best efforts, part of Xiani welcomes the support from the stranger as she struggles to clear the painful haze on her mind. The use of a foreign language automatically causes Xiani's brow to furrow in distrust and confusion as she wonders of what they speak - Do they intend to capture her? Kill her? Perhaps just use her as other men have attempted. However, the giant man's gentle hands quickly cause any fear of mistreatment to disintegrate. She is shocked by just how gently the man's care is, how his touch is feather light and he seems to know exactly how to care for her. Not only does he bandage her up, he also pours some strange liquid onto the wound on her leg, causing the screaming wound to quiet some, its flame being smothered by something cold and cool, the rough grits being cleansed away. Already, she feels somewhat better.

The other one speaks to the one helping her in the odd language again, but whatever he says causes her caregiver to shout, surprising her. She had imagined that such a voice could come from such a body, until his delicate fingers began to care for her. The shout just changed her perception of him once more. Now she automatically looked him over in a calculating manner, trying to assess his strengths and weaknesses. He obviously holds an authority of over the other in the way that his companion shrinks back and goes to rummage about in the bag her tender had brought before offering to the superior, eyes downcast in obvious apology, though he cannot keep his eyes from flickering to the obviously strange, savage beast before him.

Xiani is very cautious when allowing her belly to be treated by the bearded man, and is instantly glad she does as everything he does seems to lessen the pain. When the other man begins speaking in common, she nearly smiles -despite the foreign description - because hearing him speak to her in a language she can understand is oddly comforting. He nods to the man that had helped her when saying a name - Kirvan. She enjoyed having a name to relate to an individual; it had often gotten her in trouble when she asked a slave their name. The complement causes her to glance over at the body, realizing that the kill was far beyond normal human methods. When he asks what she is - Does he not know of the Zith? - she manages to make the "z" sound before being cut off by Kirvan, who refers to the other as Hamlac - what odd names these people possess.

Having not realized just how fatigued she is, Xiani is mildly surprised when her body all but gives out when Kirvan helps her down onto the sand. Slightly animalistically, she pulls her injured leg against herself, knee coming to rest under her chin, instinctively protecting both of her wounds from further harm. She watches the other man leave and then return quickly, carrying a small glass containing air, or so it seemed to her. "Ahnes-" the healer cuts her off in order to explain the object she was about to question. Unsure, she takes the phial from him, fingertips noting the callouses on his hands as she does so. She examines the small container, not sure how to open it and consume the potion.

by **Kirvan Deepseeker** on October 7th, 2012, 4:17 am

Kirvan could sense the fatigue in the woman as Durk fixed her up and her easiness around the big guy. He had that kind of effect on people, calming them down in spite of everything, even his appearance. Indeed, Durk's first impression wasn't usually that of an honest doctor or passionate medic, but he was both, surprisingly. Though the two of them had known each other nearly since birth, Kirvan couldn't think of the big guy any other way. It had been like that since the start, Durk the giant doctor better suited to be a warrior, and Kirvan the lithe warrior better suited to be a doctor. Neither cared about how they were thought of all that much, just so long as they did what they loved to do.

Sitting on the beach beside the injured warrior, Kirvan watched as she curiously inspected the phial of liquid, as if looking for a way to open it but was too shy to ask. For all her ferocity and attempts at stoicism, Kirvan felt a strange quality of naivete about her, very much similar to his own. When the Svefra came across something he hadn't seen before, his first instinct was to inspect it and learn as much about it independently as well, though that she hadn't seen a phial before surprised him. Every doctor in every city carried them, or so he believed from what travelers had told him. Does that mean she isn't from a city? Where is she from then, and how did she survive so long? Were there others like her?

Temporarily putting a lid on the stream of questions, Kirvan saw to satisfying the stranger's simplest curiosity. Reaching over to where she held the phial, he gently eased the stopper out of the neck, keeping the cork in his hand as he leaned back and looked over to the rest of the pod, Durk joining him as well as Hamlac a moment later. The others were merrily dancing and drinking away now, the musicians of the pod playing away a jaunty tune the Svefra had passed down through generations, an upbeat song that prompted movement and dance. Everyone was trying to, but the finest dancers held the center of attention, weaving in and out of each other and spinning quite fast. This was nothing like the celebration those vagik pirates were having. That was a drunken flaunting of good resources. What those scum were missing that the Svefra had was something that no one who fell to that kind of treachery could understand: life. These people, dancing and playing their instruments and even singing, it was more than a celebration: it was a cultural tradition and social gathering, a true festivity that had infinitely more energy than that pale get-together those pirate dullards were having.

It was times like these that Kirvan was grateful for the pod.

However, it was also times like these that reminded him how... different, he was. Even among the Deepseeker pod, a group of scavenging warriors who wasted nothing, reused the supplies of their downed enemies, and meted out the justice of the Sea Father, Kirvan even by Deepseeker standards seemed a little too, well, into it. He'd keep everything he had unless it was worthless until he found a use for it, he'd often check every pocket and hiding place on a corpse looking for anything of even small value, he'd always fight with an intense savage drive that seemed almost animalistic to those watching. Of course, no one shunned him for these qualities, most embraced them rather, but even so there was a definite feeling that Kirvan was simply different.

Oftentimes a scenario similar to the current one would play out: the pod would come to the beach for whatever reason, begin to celebrate, and then Kirvan would go off on his own and watch. Sometimes Durk or Hamlac or even Linda from time to time would come join him, on some rare occasions all four would get back together and take some trips down memory lane, but there were times when Kirvan would be alone on the beach, watching his brethren and just feeling not quite like them. The newcomer put a spin on things though, as he was always one to embrace the interaction with any outsiders and spend time with them, learning about the world away from the sea and the various people that he may never meet. Whenever an outsider met with the pod, they would join Kirvan, the people who didn't quite fit in. Here was another person with a story of her own, ready to share, and a couple of his friends had hung back to listen as well. Thinking about it sent a warm feeling washing over his body, like a wave crashing over the sandy shore.

"Anyway, I suppose we should get to know each other," Kirvan said in Common, breaking the silence, feeling that introductions were long overdue. "Not every day you make a new comrade. I'm Kirvan, a scraggy seafarer who fights for the fun of it."

"Don't flatter yourself," Hamlac cajoled from the end of the line. "You're not that skinny."

"Much skinnier than you, pork chop," Kirvan called right back. "That meathead over there is Hamlac, although feel free to call him ham-hands if you want-"

"Oi!" Hamlac shouted, causing all three men to laugh for a bit.

"And this big guy," Kirvan continued, slapping Durk's back on the opposite side of Kirvan from the woman, "is Durk, the smartest of the three of us. As you've probably guessed, he's a doctor, and a very good one at that. Arguably the best in the pod. Can still beat me in an armwrestle though, which is pretty petching annoying, but we play with the hands were dealt, huh?"

Smiling at his latest patient, Durk's very presence seemed to put everyone at ease. It was an amazing quality about the guy that Kirvan seriously envied, but he didn't hold it against the big fella. Just one more thing Kirvan had to compensate for. Though it did make him wonder what kind of feeling his presence prompted, if any at all.

"So, that's a brief summary of who we are. Mind if we get to know a bit about you?"

by **Xiani** on October 8th, 2012, 4:46 am

Watching the mountain of a man before her work, Xiani began to feel a tinge of loneliness as he brought back memories of a companion of hers during their youngling years. Despite coming from perfect parents and having a full black coat, Ftri never really fit in. Instead of wishing to create carnage, he always was more interested in examining the wounded and trying to help them get better. Before he had even gone on his Hunt, Ftri had learned how to care for almost any injury, and had even discovered a herb mixture that healed joint pain. He was always so happy and joyful, and would have been a great addition to the colony with such skills. But alas, because he was so ill suited to causing pain and death, Ftri died on his Hunt, no one was really sure how. She missed talking to the elder youngling, for they were both siblingless and seemed to have minds superior to their fellows.

Distracting herself from the memories, Xiani continued to examine the phial, trying to figure out how it worked until the fierce-one, Kirvan, took off part of the little container, opening the liquid to the air. Afraid that the clear liquid may disappear in an instant, she tips it up and swallows the contents, grimacing slightly at the sickly sweet taste. A most odd sensation consumes her body, one of blissful nothingness. Were she not concentrating, Xiani would surely fall limp onto the sand. She then noticed that something else was drawing the eyes of the men around her, dancers whose figures were lit aflame by great bonfires. Music wafted towards them on an occasional breeze, causing Xiani to smile. These people, despite their loud roughness, seemed ever so familiar in the way they fought and celebrated. Though still, she wondered if they could become lost in their passions the way any Zith would.

She is pulled back into the instant by Kirvan's voice, and it takes a moment for her to catch up on what was said, as well as the exchanges that followed. At first, she thought one was insulting the other until laughter rang out at which point she smiled slightly, realizing that they were just teasing. Durk, the name of the one that had helped her. Such a strange, rough name for one so gentle. Then again, if his size now was anything to judge by, Xiani doubted that his parents would have ever imagined his nature at birth. Pod... must be like colony, she guesses from context, but is lost once more by the foreign term "petching" and phrase "hands we are dealt". Putting a finger to her temple, she nodded, the intonation of Kirvan's last syllable - "huh"? What could that mean...? - convinced her that he sought a reaction of some sort and attempted to give the best she could manage.

The man smiled and instantly, Xiani's social awkwardness faded once more, as if he could assure her with just a smile. Xiani was forced by instinct to reexamine the groups dynamic. Hamlac appeared to bring a youthful energy to the group, a bit naive true, but he kept things from being too serious and brought a fresh, younglings perspective despite his age. Kirvan's energy was stranger, like a storm that is far out to sea, and in your sight, but you never know when its power will be unbridled and where it will be unleashed. But that storm was far away, and now a curious, cunning air whispered through him, like a refreshing sea breeze. And then there was Durk, like a tidal pool he sheltered the two without being on the offensive, complimenting each of them in odd ways, and binding them with his quiet, sure energy that held authority without being overt or resembling a dictator. Almost before her eyes, Xiani imagined she could see the stream of energy flow between the men, changing and working to fit with the others, binding them together in ways that the mundane did not detect. Though she was a hunter, a predator, Xiani's skills in noticing the innerworkings of the unseen sometimes came in handy socially.

His question caught her off guard. Always, people had spoken to her with distrust, or malice, or even awe. But never had a human spoken to her as an equal; it seemed as if they knew nothing about her or her race's reputation - how refreshing that was! Formulating an answer, Xiani finally responds, a blush rising to her cheeks - cloaked by ebony, matted fur - when she realizes that they had been sitting silently, intently watching her and waiting for an answer. "My name is Xiani, daughter of Rychuus of the Kryis colony. I am Zith, but humans often call us demons or shadow-wings. I am but a Huntling, out to prove herself worthy of rejoining the colony." She pronounces the names with their native texture, harsh with sharp vowels, but the rest of her speech is purring, gentle, and slightly raspy still from the sand. Her voice tends to settle in the higher range of speech when she speaks common, giving her an oddly feminine quality where most Zith females settled deeper, sounding more mature in Xiani's mind. Unsure of what else is expected of her to say in an introduction, Xiani searches the eyes of each man, hoping to see a favorable reaction. Unconsciously, her eyes also flit to any weapon they may have, preparing for an unfavorable one.

by **Kirvan Deepseeker** on October 8th, 2012, 9:44 pm

Zith? Kirvan had heard of them, as had the entire pod, from traders and travelers who came across their family. Word about them was scarce however, none aside from a few warnings should they ever move inland, so Kirvan didn't know whether he should be wary or curious of Xiani. Xiani - the name came naturally from the mouth, not so much rolling as sliding out between the teeth and lips, pushed out by breath. Regardless, Kirvan could tell that this woman - Xiani, he reminded himself - was aware of her people's reputation and was already preparing for it, her eyes darting to their weapons. She needn't have worried though - whatever quarrels the land-dwellers had with the Zith, the Deepseeker pod would not carry on the conflict in their absence. Until these Zith, these so-called demons, made themselves an enemy of the Svefra or Laviku through action and violence, there would be no reason for ambivalence or suspicion between the two.

"I assume a colony is something like a pod," Kirvan replied, preemptively broaching what otherwise could have been an uncomfortable subject had there been no response for too long. "So there is a whole lot of you further inland?"

"It makes sense," Durk responded in though, speaking up for the first time in a bit. "Even if all of the Zith are as fierce and independent as Xiani here, I doubt they could survive as a people individually."

"I don't know," Hamlac disagreed somewhat. "She fights quite well on her own, didn't even have any help taking down that huge vagik captain."

Kirvan was thinking along the similar lines, also noticing how Xiani darted her eyes to their weapons and faces, as if gauging reaction to her proclomation that she was a Zith, preparing for any unfavorable response most likely. They were the instincts of a survivor, one who had to live alone without the aid of another. Within her, Kirvan felt a great distance between herself and everything else, as if this was nothing more than an interesting venture among a foreign society, a foray into the wilderness rather than a talk with new friends. Cold, calculating instincts, a survivalist to the core, that's what he felt beneath the surface of this stranger, yet she seemed as affected by their jokes and jests and influences as any person. Almost as if she had the heart of a socialite, but the mind of an isolationist. Maybe he was just reading too much into things, better to just make friends now and hope that the best came to pass and no one would ever have to find out just what her inctincts were.

"She may be a good fighter, and a race may very well survive that way, but a culture cannot sustain itself spread out so thinkly and without interaction," Durk pointed out. Hamlac and kirvan nodded their agreement, but they didn't dwell on the topic for too long.

"What kind of place is your colony?" Kirvan asked, ever eager to satisfy his curiosity. Though his true calling was always the sea, he found the land so interesting and vast, so varied as compared to the comparatively monotone life he had lead out on the ocean. He would not dare question which was the better, but that did not mean he could not be curious. "I have heard of all kinds of cities on the land, though the only one I have seen is Syliras. Do you have large stone structures, impenetrable and defiant to the outside?"

"Also, what kind of group is your colony? Are you a warrior family like us, fighting for your patron god?" Durk asked, curious to the answer. The giant doctor, on top of being an educated and patient man, was also possibly the the most devout follower of Laviku in the entire pod, which was certainly saying something since the Deepseeker pod prided itself on delivering the wrath of the Sea Father to his enemies. As zealous as Kirvan was, Durk was possibly more so.

by **Xiani** on October 9th, 2012, 2:40 am

"Yes, colony, pod, they are much the same. As for our number, I know only of my colony," once in the common mindset, the words flow much more easily from her lips, and she comprehends more. She listens to their assumptions about her, thoughtfully contemplating each image they painted of her and her species. But, as their speech continues, she finds herself unable to keep up with the questions and unable to dispel any of their false ideas. After a moment, she spends it regarding Durk's final, odd, question.

Memories flood her mind as she tries to piece together a suitable answer for them. Glimpses of her father flash through her mind, fragmented memories of her mother before she died, wingmates that were more her siblings and the older younglings who, along with mentors, just about raised the youngest fledglings. She sighs and looks from man to man, trying to decide how to answer the questions together, but instead deciding to address them one by one. "We live together in a colony because ones strength can cover the weakness of another. My colony in particular values individual usefulness above all else." She looks between Hamlac and Durk, smiling slightly as if, as it does to her, this explains why she is out on her own. The smile fades a moment later when she realizes that, because their cultures seem to be quite similar, she had overlooked cultural differences.

"When a youngling first takes to the sky, they earn the mark of their heritage," she fingers the top, blue bead thoughtfully, then continues, "and when a youngling becomes a Huntling by proving themselves able to provide food for others, they earn a mark showing their skill in that aspect." This time she actually motions to the violet bead, feeling quite proud of her accomplishment. "Once a Huntling reaches maturity, they are sent out into the world to learn something that would be of use to the colony, and return to become a fully fledged member of our world." She pauses, looking between the men as her mind worked to formulate the next explanation.

"Ours is not a city as humans such as yourself would believe. We live in a great cavern, together and as one, sharing everything and wanting for nothing." She smiles, considering it the idyllic lifestyle. "We take turns hunting and preparing food, and telling stories and testing each others strengths." For a moment, she considers his words, searching for a proper translation of his descriptions of human fortresses. "Our home is built into the side of a cliff, unreachable by those without wings. So, I suppose one could consider it to be quite formidable." She shrugs smiling slightly at the memory of a time when a slave's mate had tried to scale their walls only to be picked up and dropped for such an idiotic attempt at heroism, the woman made a great meal for causing them such trouble.

She then turns to Durk, chewing on her lip with the tip of one slightly more predatorial fang. "Your question is more difficult to answer, and I hope you do not consider me an enemy of your divinity." She looks down, then meets the calm blue eyes of her healer once more, fearing that with this statement, she will lose as much ground as she has gained, knowing humans can be very touchy about their gods. "We do not worship any god, for we were created in their struggle, The Great Rending, our creation was an accident and some gods, according to the devout I have encountered, consider us to be a scourge that must be done away with." She sighs and averts her eyes, waiting for the sound of metal on its bindings.

Despite her raising and her instincts, Xiani harbored an almost unnatural curiosity when it came to others. She wanted to know everything about their ways, what made them so different. Her fellows would call her soft, weak, if she ever spoke such interests. But maybe, as a nomad had once told her, there is more to strength than ones body. Right now, she just hoped that they would understand the differences in their culture, and still be interested in her company. If not, camp wasn't too terribly far away. She would not fight these people even if they meant to harm her, they were too alike, too familiar. She just had to know more.

by **Kirvan Deepseeker** on October 9th, 2012, 10:34 pm

Seeing that Xiani was preparing to share her story, the three Svefra quieted down and were ready to listen. After stressing the importance of individual usefulness, Durk nodded sagely. "An individual should always be strong on their own," he said. "Their strengths will complement the others of his pod, and his weaknesses will be covered by those who are strong in those areas." Kirvan nodded his agreement, Hamlac paying to much attention to Xiani to really care. It didn't really explain why she was on her own though.

As Xiani related the culture of her people, Kirvan noticed that she was fingering the beads that had been hung from her orange-red hair. The motion was likely unconscious, but as she went on to describe the next stage in the life of a Zith she drew attention to the violet bead below, which Kirvan could tell was made of some precious stone, likely amethyst. You regulate traders in the Suvan without learning a thing or two about valuables. When she explained why she was away from her colony, it made definite sense to Kirvan and Durk. One always grew stronger fighting alone, even if the risk was greater, and the requirement to bring back new knowledge ensured that the colony would be ever-growing. Actually, Kirvan was somewhat impressed by the tradition and the thinking behind it. Not only did it serve to expand their group as a society, but it also weeded out those not strong enough to survive on their own, hence making the whole stronger for it. A harsh test to be sure, but undeniably effective. Hamlac looked uncertain however, the idea of leaving one of your kin to fight alone bothering him.

Xiani went on to describe her home, and all three could see the similarities between her people and the Svefra. Sharing everything and wanting nothing, it was the way they all lived. Nobody owned anything, not even the Lia. Though Kirvan's initial reaction to learning about their cliff-home was that of skepticism, he conceded that if a person could have wings then it would indeed be plausible. It might even be safer than the mountain of stone that was Syliras, as only those with wings (or could fight while rock climbing) could enter the cave unmolested, and even then they would have to deal with the entire colony that awaited them at the top. Though perhaps not as formidable as a wall of man-made stone, a mountain of human creation, it was just as daunting.

Turning to answer Durk's question, Kirvan could already tell what the answer was. The way she was chewing her lip, which was oddly endearing, told him that she was nervous about something, and it was an easy guess to what it was. That she didn't worship any deity came as no surprise to Kirvan, as he doubted that such a practical society would rely on the divine to help guide them. The Deepseeker pod did it, but they were formed around the following of Laviku from their very foundation. That others, especially non-Svefra, weren't as pious as the Deepseekers of the gods was to be expected, the lack in worship of Laviku particularly. It meant that they had no divine aid, but that was their choice to make and their loss or gain depending on how fate turned.

From Xiani's body language, the tensing of muscles and a wary gaze at Durk, Kirvan could tell she was half-expecting the big guy to erupt and start hurling holy profanities at her. To the contrary, Durk seemed intrigued about what Xiani had told him, eager to learn more about an entirely new race that he had never encountered or read about until now. "The Great Rending?" he asked, intellectual eyes brimming with a drive to learn about this new revelation. "You mean the Valterrian? So the Zith are another product of the godly war and the massive explosions of djed..."

"Isn't there another race like that?" Hamlac asked. "The Chawk-, Chak-, Chakwa-, whatever, the people to the south you keep droning on about?"

"The Chaktawe, Hamlac," Durk answered. The big fella was a wealth of knowledge of things all over Mizahar. He likely couldn't tell you about what kinds of plants grew in Wind Reach or what the pestilence level was in Zeltiva, but he at least knew the basics of several different races around the continent, most of the knowledge courtesy of traded books bartered from merchants now shelved on the palivars for anyone curious to read. Kirvan was definitely one of those people, what with his similar urge to learn about the world inland.

"Don't worry about us," Kirvan reassured the Zith. "Whether your creation was accident or not, we've heard no word from Laviku about you at all, so likely the Sea Father doesn't really care too much. Makes sense if you're so far from his realm."

"Indeed, we harbor no grudge against the Zith," Durk added, backing up his friend. "Our god has said nothing of you, so until he does consider us friends." He put her at ease with another of his calming smiles, showing that he didn't mind her lack of worship. "Simply because you do not revere the divine does not make it an insult to those who do, after all."

"Just because the land-dwellers don't like you doesn't mean we need to hunt in their stead. Forget our land-bound brethren, you've helped us fight and because of that consider yourself a friend." Kirvan finished with a smile himself, his eyes as warm as Durk's though with less of the zeal of an intellectual.

by **Xiani** on October 12th, 2012, 2:00 am

Her smile grows to one of unbridled joy at the announcement that she will not be attacked for her lack of faith. After a moment she puts a lid on it and returns her face to a pleasant smirk, but her eyes still hold the twinkling joy and fascination of a creature who has spent her entire life within a singular bottle. And now, with a simple statement of acceptance, the bottle has been opened and flung into the wind, its winged contents free to explore a realm unknown.

No one in her racial memory has ever traveled over the inland water, or the ocean far away, and returned to tell about it. In fact, they warn against it to the fledglings, speaking of violent drafts and storms that spring from the waters like a vengeful spirit to tear a Zith apart by the wings. Xiani attempts to stem the fire in her eyes or the excited tremble in her voice before she replied. However, her success was only limited.

"That is quite nice to hear," she says quietly, a smile breaking through before she settles back in. "And what about your people? Tell me about them." She looks from one man to another, observing how their energies have changed. They appear to be more relaxed, as if she is one of their common fellows, and the thought comforts her. Relaxing, herself, slightly, she leans back so that she rests on her palms, stretching back her wings so that they don't fall asleep. Nothing is funnier than a Zith with dead wings.