Quest [Aylasa Caves] The Value of Sentiment

[Plume]

"Hello?" Yorick called out from the mouth of the cave, his voice echoing at least a dozen times over as it faded away into inky darkness. There was no answer--at least none in the human, Common tongue--so he took a reluctant but determined step deeper into the caverns.

The weaponsmith was a flame haired, lumbering man well past six feet tall, so his progress down into the caves was forced to a slow crawl. Bent at the waist and shoulders hunched, he had to plant one careful foot before the other, wary of slipping or knocking his head into solid stone. Yorick wasn't especially known for his grace or tact. Something of an oaf, his friends liked to joke when they shared drinks at the Stallion. Hence his meticulous trekking.

Eventually the narrow walkway he had descended from bottomed out to a spacious expanse of slick stone and an eerily quiet pool of water. Yorick wasn't an especially skilled fighter, but he'd worked with weapons and their wielders long enough to become familiar with the lingering traces of recent danger. Perhaps it was the too-quiet stillness. Or perhaps it was the alarming sight of a dead Yukman half submerged in water that gave it away. Either way, the weaponsmith was instantly on edge. If some one or thing was able to kill a Yukman...

"Hello?" Yorick called out again for what felt like the hundredth time."Is anyone hurt down here? I heard the Yukman and thought maybe there was trouble."

Darting back and forth, his bright blue eyes found themselves focusing on something strange in the water. Bones, he realized after a handful of ticks, fish bones, floating about as if someone had just recently feasted. And judging from the size...

His eyes flicked back up to scan his surroundings once more. One dead Yukman and one dead queen amongst a pool of small fish, but no Mourning Glory in sight. Which could only mean that whoever killed both predators might be in possession of Leena's precious memento. Even if Yorick dreaded the very thought of having to be down here for one more chime, he could not leave without at least trying. No one had been able to find that gods damned fish in years, let alone kill it and walk away with a priceless treasure in their hands.

"Whoever killed the Yukman and the Queen--the fish, I mean," he began, turning in slow circles for any sign of the killer, "I'm not lookin' for no trouble. Look, I'm unarmed." Yorick lifted his hands slowly to show there was nothing attached to his belt other than a sack of rations.

"That fish you killed...ate...it had something that belongs to a friend of mine. I'd be willing to negotiate, trading anything within reason, if you would consider giving it back."

The weaponsmith was still looking all around, unsure if anyone could even hear him. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

[Wrenera]

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Wrenera watched the hulking figure plod around the cavern. She continued to keep a close eye on him while he studied areas and drew conclusions. She heard him begin to voice many words in his tongue. Some, Wrenera understood, others made little sense to her. What was a Yukman? Queen? Was there a female ruler in charge of things in the human fortress that demanded she bow knee? Whatever the words meant, the Zith didn't doubt his words were for her. Whatever he had seen down by the lake shore must have confirmed her presence.

Either the red-haired brawny human was very foolish or very sly. Wren clicked her tongue and snorted. To come into the caves unarmed seemed beyond comprehension to her. She had lived long enough in the network of tunnels to know that was a sure way to die. But Wren didn't believe it. This had to be some trap to coax her guard down. Still, the night huntress was in her domain and confident enough in her ability to subdue this human before he realized what was going on....

Wren eased out of her rock niche and dropped with her arms extended. Wings expanded to caress the wind and slow her fall. The Zith would have landed quietly if not for the slap of her feet against the water. She was aggressive despite the noise, landing a mere couple of feet away from the turning man and whipping out her tool of death from the crude baldric about her furry body. A blinding flash of steel would leave him blinking in surprise before a pair of scarlet eyes peered into his, smoldering with distrust.

She was short compared to the human, not even managing to crest his shoulders. Her wild night-blue mane stirred with her movements as she bounced around on her feet, alert eyes leveled on the intruder. The cold and still-damp-with-blood edge of her blade was kept in close proximity to his chest, lest he decided to be brave and foolhardy.

"Why are you here, human?! Who is this Queen? What do you know about my fish?" Wren volleyed the questions in a demanding tone, her teeth bared maliciously. Her mouth twisted in a mock smile after a short time. She remembered other words the man had said. "You trade with me? What do you have to give?!" She snapped, her head tilting to the side as the feral look mingled with obvious interest.

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[Plume]

Yorick backpedaled several feet and nearly toppled over a stalagmite in the process. One moment he was, to all appearances, alone. The next, he found himself face to face with a very real and very demanding Zith.

The blacksmith didn't think, only reacted. Fear left his eyes round and their whites obvious even in the dim lighting, but up until that point he hadn't been maimed, eaten, or raped. A fair outcome upon meeting a Zith, unarmed and in a dark cave, by all accounts. And the man was smart enough not to push his luck.

"I heard the Yukman," he answered plain and simple, hands held up to show the Zith he remained unarmed. "Came down to see if anyone was hurt or in trouble."

Yorick slid his gaze toward the discarded fish bones, then back to the Zith. "Guess the only things fitting that description are already dead. And not a who, a what. Your fish and The Queen are one in the same. That bloody fish has been ruling this little pool for years. Various folk have come down here trying to catch it, myself included, but no one ever came close. Then you come along and eat the thing without even knowing..."

A wry grin tugged at his mouth, but he schooled it into stoicness immediately. "I see you've got a fine blade there," Yorick nodded, slowly pointing one finger at the Zith's sword. "I'm a blacksmith and I can make more like the one you have. Or different ones, too, and I can fix anything as long as it has to do with weapons." He then lifted his left arm and pointed at it with his right, indicating the metal band that adorned his wrist. It wasn't anything elaborate, but the etchings on the band were clean and aesthetically appealing. "I also do some simple designs for most of my blades, if you care for such things."

There was an awkward pause. "Maybe I can trade another blade for that trinket," the red headed blacksmith quickly suggested. "Or I could fix, perhaps even enhance, your current weapon. A scimitar, if I am to guess. Aye?"

Yorick tried not to swallow too hard and maintained a calm exterior. There was no telling how much the Zith actually understood. That she could speak the Common tongue and wield a blade was already unexpected enough. Trading with the savage creature was a long shot at best, but for Leena there was very little the brawny blacksmith would not do.

[Wrenera]

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The human liked to talk, Wren saw. She had noticed it was often that way when they were in her presence. As if their words held weight, value. Perhaps they did, at that. Wren had known Zith that would kill this man without a word. No hesitation. That was the way of survival: Be quick or be dead. Perhaps she was a fool. But it was true, she had a weakness. Not for words, but for things. A sly smile curved her lips to see the man's clumsy retreat. Many of his words made no sense to her. How could a fish be a queen? Wren grew bored of the talk of a fish she had already eaten and pressed the edge of her blade to the man's chest, a throaty growl punctuating her impatience. Then he wisely got back to the thing that interested her most: steel.

Apparently he was a maker of weapons. The word blacksmith was one she was not familiar with. Naturally, she associated it with someone who shaped metal into instruments of war. Wren's scarlet gaze was full of inquisitiveness upon hearing of the man's trade. "You are blacksmith," she intoned, familiarizing herself with the new term. When the trespasser raised his arm to indicate the band there, she half climbed the man to grasp at the man's forearm. Wren peered at the metal curiously, uncaring of the pressure of her curved body against his, the point of her scimitar lowered.

The pattern in the metal was pleasing to her eye. Her mind fluttered with the idea of killing him and taking the precious item. But she abandoned the notion when he further elaborated on his skills as a blacksmith. Could he make her weapon even better than it already was? She sharpened it nearly every full moon. Just what could this human do to it? Raising her killing tool, she examined it in the gloom of the cave before eyeing the man. "For fish treasure, you make me a new weapon. Yes?"

To her this seemed a great bargain. What need had she for baubles when compared to the usefulness of killing tools. Still, she was not sure of the item's value. Wren gauged the man's manner to detect any trickery. If he was cheating her, she would not kill him. She would make him suffer until he begged her to kill him.

Wren was unsure how the trade would go down. From her many visits to the grand underground city of humans where she had perched upon the minarets to observe the forge in action, she had noticed many humans. Far too many for her to ever safely walk among them. The blacksmith could go back to his city and return to her cave once he had crafted the steel. That appealed to her. The blacksmith would be a boon indeed. Living on her own was hard. Wren slid close to the burly man once again, gazing up into his eyes.

"I will trade with you."

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[Plume]

Yorick swallowed hard as the Zith's blade pressed deeper into his chest. If she had wanted to kill him , she would have already, that much was clear. But inquisitive interest glinted in those predatory eyes of hers. Perhaps the blacksmith would live to see another day, after all. Though it was still a long, long way back to the city proper.

"Yes," Yorick nodded at the Zith's intonement, "I am. I work with metal. A lot of metal."

He almost felt his heart stop when the creature half climbed him just to see his wrist band. Had she not been surprisingly civil for a Zith this entire time, he would have been sure she meant to devour him, starting with his head. But it quickly proved obvious that she was merely curious. Yorick struggled not to protest beneath her weight and the sharpness of her claws, and to his credit not so much as a peep was uttered while she inspected the band at her leisure.

His relief was palpable upon the end of the Zith's up close and personal inspection. As she gauged and weighed and mulled over her options, he merely stood there, quietly waiting. He only spoke once after that, when he was asked a direct question.

"Yes, certainly. A new and fine weapon, made to your liking."

There was no more talking after that, only speculative silence. Then, at last, the creature gave her answer.

For the first time since their unexpected interaction, Yorick released some of the tension in his shoulders. The Zith's words seemed genuine enough and her sword was no longer poised to slice him in two.

"Sounds like we have a deal, then, ah..." The blacksmith hesitated for a moment. "Well, I don't know your name, but mine is Yorick. You can tell me yours, if you'd like." Slowly and carefully, he removed the metal band around his wrist. "It will take some time to make your new blade. So to prove I mean to keep my word, I'll leave this with you until I come back. It will take me a day or two, at most."

He extended his left hand and offered the band, still unsure whether he would make it out of the cave in one piece but hopeful nonetheless. Should the exchange be accepted, he would then move on to inquire what the Zith desired in her new weapon. Arming a Zith in the first place couldn't have been the brightest idea Yorick had ever had in his simple life, but the bauble almost justified it. Almost. He could only hope he wasn't going to wake up in a few days to the news of bloodshed and mayhem.

"I can return to the city to make your weapon today, but I need to know a few things first. Is there anything you seek in this new blade? Smaller, bigger, lighter, heavier, or perhaps a different shape?" He paused to glance at the sword the Zith had in her possession. "It is a rather fine blade you own already. Perhaps you would like a second? I know some warriors enjoy using two blades at the same time rather than one."

[Wrenera]

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The human seemed all too willing to help her. Was it a trick? Appease her so he could flee back to the vast underground city. Perhaps even bring unwanted guests to her cave in the future? Despite her misgivings, she wanted very badly to have a new sword and maybe even more if the human proved useful. Someone she could rely on to get other items she required. Survival was tough. She had no one to help her. No one to talk to. Talk? Was that what this was all about? To have company?! She savagely berated that weakness in herself. She didn't need anyone! Everyone she had ever trusted had left her before. Even her own sister. Why would it be any different now?

The man proffered the band he has shown her for collateral as if hearing her unspoken suspicions. She eyed the band a tick before swiftly coming forward, taking the band and a handful of the man's hair in her clawed hand, yanking his head down to hers for a sensual kiss that ended in a somewhat vicious bite, leaving a trail of blood trickling down the man's chin. Wren smiled slyly and removed the crimson evidence from her own mouth, issuing a husky laugh at the man's shocked visage. "A taste of you so I will know if you betray me. My people have dark ways to find liars," she said casually. A lie in itself, but he didn't know that. "But I don't have to worry about that, yes? You are....honorable," she finished, having to remember the correct common word.

Then came the details of her new blade to be forged. These things interested her. She even offered her blade up for inspection, though making sure never to lose grip on the weapon, lest the intruder use it against her. "The same size," she instructed, "but make the...handle...improved. Shape the crosspiece like wings. Like those of the Zith," she said and unfurled hers to show him exactly what she meant.

"Yes. My sister and I killed a human on the way to this land. The clumsy fool attacked us on the road. He paid with his life. My sister got his armor. I, his blade." If her words caused the man to be even more fearful of her, so much the better. She knew fear had a way of keeping men honest. The man's idea of wielding two blades was one she had never thought of. It seemed a fascinating discovery to her. Yes, that was what she would do. Though she did not know how to fight in that fashion, she would learn.

"Now you return to big cave city. Make my sword and come back here. If you keep to your word I will trade this fish treasure for the blade." Wren gave him a quick peek of the tinkling treasure before slipping it away. "You do this and prove I can count on you. Then maybe we have future deals, yes? Go Now! If I do not see your face again in two days....You should pray I never see it again," she said in a silky tone full of malice, her scarlet eyes glittering.


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[Plume]

Yorick had been ready--or as ready as one could ever be in the face of such a creature--for the swiftness with which the Zith would react to his outstretched hand. But the ferocious yank of hair and bloodied kiss that followed left his wide with shock, feet stumbling to adjust.

He had barely enough time to recover a margin of composure when the Zith spoke, claiming she now had some strange hold over him through the tasting of his blood. The Blacksmith was not burdened with an abundance of education so there was no way of confirming whether this was truth or lie. But one could never be too careful, even behind walls as thick and guarded as those of the Fortress City. He chose then to believe her, more or less, and nodded once to signify such.

"My word is good," he confirmed, clearing his throat beforehand as he wiped the blood from his mouth shakily with his now unbanded hand. "A new sword in exchange for the...fish treasure. A deal's a deal."

Despite the evident fear and struggle with which the man was now grappling in the wake of all that had transpired, there was also a glint of fascination and appreciation in his eyes as the Zith offered up her blade for inspection. Little other than their savagery was known about the monsters to citizens like Yorick, but the unmistakable, human-like behavior this creature was displaying caused a little furrow in the Blacksmith's brow as he listened. She had not mauled, eaten, or raped him in the entire course of their interaction. Aside from the startling, violent kiss, he had remained relatively unharmed. A fact that Yorick would carry with him whilst crafting the Zith's new blade.

Same size. Handle improved, crosspiece like Zith wings. The brief story and threats that followed caused him to blanch a little, but the man steadfastly committed everything to memory. He may not have been the brightest or quickest of cityfolk, but he knew his craft, and already a basic vision of how this sword would appear began to grow in his mind.

Yorick's breathing quickened a fraction as he was given a glimpse of the treasure. That was all the confirmation he needed, and likewise for the Zith of his interest. As he nodded once more and assured the creature that he would be back in two day's time, the blacksmith could imagine only one thing aside from his grisly, untimely death. It had something to do with a certain red haired, fiery tempered glassworker, and the rare smile that would blossom on her face as she was presented with a long lost work of sentimental value...

--One day and twenty two bells later--

Yorick stood before the cave entrance once more. Except this time, there was a notable line of sweat across his brow, his chest heaving from the exertion of running most of the way from the gates, and a sizable sack was slung across his shoulders. He had barely made it in time with only two bells to spare. There was no way of knowing how strictly Zith counted time, but no sane person would care to test such limits.

From the mouth of the cave, he called down to the Zith in a cautious but firm greeting. As the blacksmith waited for something to happen, he slowly unslung the sack. He had not slept since two days ago, working every bell of the day and then straight through the night to bring this weapon to its completion. The man looked tired enough that if he were to curl up on the forest floor he might have fallen fast asleep, but his face was set in grim determination nonetheless, eyes ablaze with something like a mixture of fear, curiosity, and hope.

Now, to see if a Zith possessed honor as well.

[Wrenera]

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There came only the usual sounds that caves had a habit of gurgling up. A few distant plopping noises, some manner of scraping on rock, but mostly and usually most terrifying, the sound of nothing at all. Impenetrable mute mystery that usually drove most sane individuals into a fit of utter terror. Something glanced off Yorick's shoulder.

Upon inspection he would find a dead rat among the foliage and leaves about the cave around his feet. Then laughter. Female mirth rich and throaty with a hint of growl. If he looked up, the Blacksmith would find Wren watching him from her perch in a thick-boughed tree overlooking the cavern mouth. Scarlet eyes glimmered mischievously at the sight of the man. She scaled the branches as if they were a wooden thoroughfare, making her way down until she could easily jump down and glide to a position just beside the male.

She laughed again. "You run strangely human," she accused. But it wasn't humorous enough to waste more breath on. Not when it was apparent Yorick was indeed an honorable man. Her attention went right away to the sack he had hauled up into the mountains. She peered at it keenly, as if by sight alone she could picture the sword beneath. The sword she had imagined he would make. With a winged-hilt and metal unblemished by dents and of course, a blade so sharp that it could part a feather with a kiss.

Perhaps more lady like than she realized, the Zith huntress united her sharp-nailed hands together in glee. "Is this it then? The sister sword of my choosing?" she asked, coming to his side quickly. Wren waited with bated breath for him to unveil the artifact he had crafted. She wasn't even aware of how her shapely figure suggestively brushed his. She was far more intent on the weapon, much like a child on a new toy. Perhaps for a moment, the Blacksmith would notice, if only very briefly, behind the rough exterior and menacing motif, there was a still a young girl who loved presents and was still learning much of this new and strange world.

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[Reflection]

He followed the same path from two days prior, his loping gait slow. A call out came again, eager to find the Zith that he’d met previously and had struck a bargain to trade. The weight of the carefully formed sword lay heavy in the pack on his back. Once reaching the bottom, the surroundings familiar from when he’d entered it prior. The decaying body of the yukman still partially within the water.

Yorik was a little slow to move due to the fatigue, so when the rat hit him on the shoulder it hadn’t registered in his mind until the Zith had begun to descend. A momentary step back, trying to mask the surprise on his face, he glanced to the floor where the little dead body lay. He glanced back to her and gave a half laugh, turning up the corner of his mouth slightly.

Vaguely noticing she had come to stand next to him, keeping his eyes between her and slipping the weighted pack from shoulder to floor. Moving the leather knot down thin strings he pulled the opening wide and carefully took out a large piece of cloth. Even though the heat of her skin would be felt on his back as she leaned over to look at her new prize, he’d clear his throat, stand back up, and hold the large piece in his hands. For a moment he would wait, wondering if she would keep her promise to exchange the trinket.

If she pulled the object out, he would pull the edge of the wrap back and let her inspect the gleaming metal, carefully crafted as requested. The handle smooth and the cross delicately detailed which then led into a curved and sharp blade. The anticipation of how close they were to closing the deal had him licking his lips and a smile creeping across his face. After he caught himself grinning like a fool he’d put on a more serious face.

“I’ve followed your request, I hope this meets your approval so that we may exchange. Do you want to inspect it first?” Holding the out a little further toward he’d wait to see if she would hold her end of the bargain, "You still have the... fish treasure, yes?" His brows came up with hope and anticipation.

NoteTemplate courtesy of Plume, to keep the integrity of the formatting.

[Wrenera]

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With the veil drawn away, the weapon shone brightly in Leth's light. Wren gasped in a mixture of awe and delight. It was beautiful to her. A killing tool itself was a useful and necessary item to survive in the wilds, but this stretched beyond just serving her needs, this was art! Wren had a fascination with collecting things. It was no secret for anyone who happened upon her home, deep in the Aylasa caves, in an alcove high above the ground level, loaded with all manner of what most would term junk. Wren's eyes followed the gentle curve of the blade to where it met with the hilt. It was shaped just as she had instructed; in the likeness of wings--Zith wings. They swept gracefully to either side of the slim edge, at an even distance. Instinctively she clutched for the much-desired weapon, but the male human kept her at bay with a reminder of her own part of the bargain.

Reflexively she nearly reached again for the weapon, with half a mind to use it on the fool of a man and give him naught but a bloody death for daring to deny her anything. The savage twist of visage smoothed after mere ticks as she regained calm. It wouldn't be to her advantage to kill this one, even if she wanted to. He represented her only link to the civilized world that bordered her wild domain. Perhaps the only one she would ever find...

"Of course..." she trailed off and took a few moments to retrieve something that hung from a bag at her side. A faint tinkle ushered it into sight. The sparkling flower blossomed to life with sounds that pleased the ear. The exchange of items was brief, with Wren very selfishly yanking the curved sword away from his grasp the second the blacksmith touched the fish treasure.

The Zith moved several feet away to marvel at how the weapon felt in her hand. She ran a claw down the metal and out across the wing-shaped crosspiece. It wasn't long before she was testing it out with full arcing turns and a series of slashes. It felt even lighter than her other blade, traveling through the air effortlessly. Wren wondered how it would be to swing both of her swords in unison, but decided against the potential disaster of her making a fool of herself in front of this man. Instead, she offered a satisfied smile to him. "You have proved yourself useful and...hon-orable. You can return here and we trade again in future, yes?"

Wren did not wait for the blacksmith to finish inspecting the trinket, she caught a nod of his head just before leaving and that was all the confirmation she needed. Wren turned away, vanishing back into the dark depths of the cavern. She now had a blade at each hip. This pleased her very much. She laughed with joy before taking to the air at the prospect of using her newfound weapon on the unsuspecting denizens of the Aylasa Caves and beyond.

OOC :

So sorry to hear Plume has left us. But I thank you for taking the time out to help me put the finishing touches on what has been a very exciting thread! Thanks again!

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