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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Apr 1, 2023 20:08:40 GMT -5
It was a sad thing to hear about the state of these Arcuila. Charon truly was in a state of upheaval when even the creatures-- the elemental ones no less-- started to spread out from their normal habitat, or engage in behaviour that was otherwise outside the norm.
When Del had heard wary rangers speak of the issue on her way back from Zeinav, after making a quick stop at home in Darkveil, she decided to make a trip out to the mountains themselves. It was on her way; she had business in Sky Peak Village itself, at the behest of a furitive aviankin who was much too interested in strange flora... but at the moment, this was by far the more pressing problem.
Her gaze lifts to the sky; the clouds of ash from Mount Drakkolt had certainly spread far and wide, becoming larger and longer as the days went on and the frequency of earthquakes grew. The sight of the cloud filled Del with a sense of foreboding... it seemed it had had that effect on the Arcuila too.
She waits at the outpost for whomever else had decided to sign up for this mission, earlier than the assigned meeting time that had been provided for their advance-- hopefully during their sleeping hours, if they were lucky, which would allow them to get close. This mission would be far from easy, that at least had not been something the man who had assigned the task had tried to keep to himself. A secret, no matter how well intended, would not serve anyone here, not when it was this dangerous.
Then again, the Dragon's Cradle itself was a dangerous place on its own. A society not dissimilar to that in Darkveil. She listens to the distant peals of thunder among the misty peaks, and steels herself.
Hearing footsteps up the path, Del turns her head; covered, even here, to avoid unwanted attention or notice if she could help it.
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Post by Ishikawa Saizo on Sept 18, 2023 14:30:24 GMT -5
In his search for meaningful work to keep himself busy and his mind focused whilst he traveled he had ventured from his temporary lodgings in Stormgale Village to Skypeak itself at the behest of a rather furtive merchant who went and on about how something was spooking the native Arcuila population and it was making some trade routes dangerous. Saizo knew better then to ask why the merchant was so certain that something in particular was spooking the Arcuila and that it wasn't just territorial angst or the like, as it was fine enough regardless of the answer. After all a mission like this usually meant a decent payout in the end which in the grand scheme of things meant luxury food for days and that's what mattered most to the young man.
Having worn what he owned he was more then confident in what skills he possessed and if anything he was confident in Sentomaru and the prowess he had when he used his family's blade. If anything he knew he could get himself out of any tricky situation he might find himself in and that was good enough for him. The journey north wasn't the most difficult especially in the grand scheme of his whole journey over the last year, I mean traveling by foot at least meant he wouldn't be waylaid and subsequently captured by Pirates again right? No danger of shipwrecks or owing an infirmary debt to a major city. Simply trudging along until he arrived at his destination and thankfully his trip was without significance just as he preferred it.
When he arrived at the new village however he was taken a back at the difference in size and scope from Stormgale, Sky Peak was truly magnificent and that was coming from a man who had seen many of the wonders of the Crescent Isles, in fact Sky Peak Village seemed more like home to him then anywhere else he had seen between The Pale City and the lands leading up to Stormgale village where he had been staying until now. Making his way through his new locale he asked around as to where the Outpost was, so that he could be on his way. A friendly guard pointed him along and he was off, the smells and delicacies of this new city playing in his mind as he thought about how he would spend his next down time upon finishing the task at hand.
Arriving at where he was supposed to be he scanned around looking for anyone else that might be waiting to embark on this quest, and his eyes failed him naught as he saw a wood elf woman waiting nearby. Not really the first to start a conversation he moved with the grace of a shadow as he encroached closer and spoke with an unassuming voice that sounded rich and deep but not inherently memorable although it was clear he was from The Isles with his accent despite how well hidden it might have tried to be.
"You here for the Arcuila thing?....", he sounded both confident and unsure at the same time, as if he was assured in what he was asking but not in asking in the first place. Looking around he kept his hands hidden by his cloak as he shifted his eyes back to the woman in front of him.
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Oct 3, 2023 12:17:17 GMT -5
Perhaps it was the quiet, careful air that had caught her attention at the outset, cluing her in to the approach of whomever was coming up the path. It also helped that the cloaked person-- a human, if she wasn't mistaken, in some range of 'youth', at least to her understanding of how humans tended to age, didn't appear to be trying to sneak up on her at the very least. More just quietly cautious, perhaps.
As he speaks up, catching the cadence of an accent of the Isles, Del gives the person who stepped up a small smile of recognition. It was always a rare delight to encounter people from the place she called home for so many years. In those first few seconds, she remains watchful, noting the hidden state of his hands, tucjed into his cloak. Her own were loose and at her sides, relaxed and empty. Not wanting to assume this individual meant any sort of ill, she turns to them and inclines her upper half in a polite, customary bow, though she does not lower her gaze. "I am. A pleasure to meet you. I go by Del." She straightens to look him over again; a little taller than she was, though not by a huge margin. Her own deep brown skin was marked by a scar across the bridge of her nose that forked beneath amber eyes. Her hair, held off her face by a band, was full of wiry curls that were starting to turn gray around the temples, accentuated by the slightest indication of smile-lines at the corners of her eyes.
Her garb was modest and many layered, designed to obsure her silhouette with loose cloth that appeared to be bound a little tighter around the forearms and the ankles, so as not to tread on the fabric. Even with this, though, the sylvan elf had a strength to her shoulders and a thickness to her forearms that perhaps belied the otherwise willowy countenance of many elves. Perhaps the most telling of all, those loose hands bore heavy scarring, some old and some newer, calloused and strong; labourer's hands.
"I take it you've accepted the job as well?" she gestures up the path. "I haven't seen any indication of the Arculia as yet, but were hardly in the mountains proper. Are you from the area?"
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