The Lady

Tshepsi

''The feminine half is proportional in height to its human counterparts and is supported not by legs but by a meandering 2.5 meters of sleekly scaled tail. Rather than sharing the ruddy pigments of man flesh, however, this Syladri's skin is colored by assorted hues of amber, cream, and snow. A more detailed look at her reveals a visage not so different from that of an exotically beautiful woman, coloration, tail, and quirks aside.''

''Her face is very angular with prominent brows, high cheekbones and a perfectly chiseled jaw line. Thick, calcified scales grow in place of hair along her brows and the same formations speckle her temples. Set beneath them is a pair of crimson irises, encased by a heavy lid. Her nose is rather unremarkable, sloping above a pair of cream-colored lips that purse firmly over the filed teeth and forked tongue hidden within. A strangely textured, snowy mane is riddled with flecks of pale pink and amber as it sprouts from her scalp and flows without tether to her hips. Rather than possessing hair's lightweight, billowy quality, each strand feels a bit more slick and heavy. Peeking out from these locks is a pair of wide, blunt horns that look as though they've been shorn off to mere nubs.''

''A slender neck swoops into sculpted shoulders from which sprout a pair of sinewy arms. Each arm is capped by a willowy-fingered hand. Each finger is capped by translucent, sickle-shaped nail flecked with seraphite. Back and belly made strong by the upward rearing of her stance, the Syladri has in her possession an impressive, though lean, musculature. Modest breasts stretch widely over the thin ripples of muscle beneath the pale skin. Darkened shadows begin to blend the textures of soft flesh and leathery scales as the curvature of her waist deepens into the spread of hips. Somewhere in the transition the presence of a navel is nowhere to be seen. The first two sets of muscular scutes along the "belly" of the tail are wider and more v-shaped than those that follow. The scutes resemble the colors of a pale bruise, mottled with lavender, pinks, and buttery cream. The smaller, plate-like scales that cover the rest of her lower half's hide posses a more uniform combination of milky white with amber flecks.''

''The Syladri is equipped with few articles of bodily dcor. Tiny, golden nodules stud the outermost corners of her eyes and sets of three more pierce the prominent peaks of her cheekbones. Rings hewn from crude stone encase three of her fingers. Scrolling, amber tattoos take form of ancient runes scrawled over the tip of her tail. This pattern is somewhat discernable between her breasts and across the spread of her belly as well. The top-most feminine bits are covered, as human modesty dictates, by a weaving of white velvet, silk, and golden loops. The lower half requires more tricksome covering, and so the same material forms an oval panel to lay over those suggestive scutes and is bound by many interlocking threads across the backside of the tail. It has been decorated heavily by gold and red embroidery.''

Tempest Corona 


 * Of substantial size and dominance within the freehold of Crown's Refuge are the expansive gardens known as the Tempest Corona. Encircled around the base of the towering Tempest Spire, Tempest Corona exists is three circular walkways - one around the base of Tempest Spire, one around the edge of the corona, and one in the middle - that interlock at regular intervals amidst gardens of lush vegetation, delicate statues and fountains, and proud trees and ferns.


 * Awash in an ocean of jade and viridian hues, the footpaths that weave around the drape of nature's finest have apparently been created from a smooth obsidian rock that glistens a shade of dark purple when wet. This black stone serves to contrast with the otherwise pristine white of the tower that looms above, both of which equally complementing the varied greens of the gardens that encompass the whole area.


 * The hiss and burble of fresh water from artificial streams, channels, and fountains alike provide a perpetually peaceful backdrop to the more natural ambiance of whispering leaves and rustling bushes. Patrolmen and Guards attached to the Blood Guard of Crown's Refuge stand at key points around the gardens - Human and Syladris alike - in half-plate of a polished dark-scarlet hue; an elegant tower-shield in one hand, an iron short sword in the other.


 * Centered at the heart of Crown's Refuge, the Tempest Corona links to all four of the artery pathways that run through the freehold to the north, east, south, and west. The archway that leads into Tempest Spire itself faces south towards Fastheld, flanked by two Blood Guards at all times. Regardless of the presence of the Crown's Refuge defense guard, Tempest Corona harbors a sense of peace matched only by that of the Snowfall Basin in the northwest.

Lucius Nepos sits looking contemplative by the archway which leads into the spire, it of course being blocked by the Blood Guard who stand on sentry duty. He holds his helmet in his hand and stares out towards one of the small streams, head awash with thoughts.

A very quiet rasping sound breaks the stoic silence of the spire as life stirs on the other side of the barred door. The Blood Guard snaps into a more rigid form as the sound grows stronger. The repetitive 'shhhk' of movement over the stone floor within comes to an end and a latch clicks unobtrusively.

Lucius Nepos's attention on the beautiful artificial garden is quickly broken at the sound of snapping and 'shhhk'ing, the soldier turning around to look at the door. He rises up and shoulders his backpack, causing the spears strapped to it to bobble up and down. His helmet is grabbed too as he stares.

An ethereal whispering greets the Corona from an inhuman tongue as the door is drawn back into the heart of the spire. The brisk gusts of wind are sucked into the darkness within and stir somebody's garments into a wild flapping. The commotion slowly calms as the sun ebbs warmly in the wake of the breeze and beckons with a softer touch to the hidden creature. Very tentatively, five curvaceous and crystalline claws hook over the door's edge and the leathery tip of a tail, as pure as virgin snow, snakes forward to curl over the kiss of spire and obsidian. "HE hasss gone....hisss touch hasss ended..." Muses the serpentine inhabitant. More of the glistening scales emerge, coiling back on themselves to draw whomever it is inside further out with a defensive, if not skittish manner.

"Light protect." Lucius variously muses, offers and prays, looking up at the sun high in the sky for a brief moment before his attention is yanked oncemore back down to the entrance of the Spire itself. While he wonders who exactly it is coming out, he is not venturing to ask anyone.

The guard standing watch at the entrance bows his head uniformly and takes one step back to allow amble room for her Ladyship to emerge more fully. The natural progression of appendages is interrupted as the tail ceases to make its exit and noise shifts within. The claws retract from the door and a face bearing more resemblance of an albino woman than beast peers forth. Scarlet eyes lift to the sun with reverence, pupils shrinking to mere slits. "Ttthe reign of ttthe Sssun," she notes and then at last slithers the remainder of her length outside, tail piling up on itself until she at last rears to match a tall man's height and outstretches her milky arms to the sky, seemingly unaware of the men in her immediate vicinity. Her neck cranes back, mane sliding protectively over the raw nubs of her shorn horns to shade them from the cold.

Now Lucius seems to grasp, or thinks he grasps who just exited the Spire. He stares at her dumbfounded for a second, glancing back up to the sun and then directly towards the Lady. "Are you the Archmage?" He asks, voice loud as he gives the Syladri a respectful bow of the head.

A lengthy hiss of inhaled breath is the answer given to the Fastheldian soldier as Tshepsi closes her eyes and flicks her amber tongue in the direction of he who spoke. "Ssshe isss here, ttthe one you call mage." Her arms lower to her sides and body twists on an axis of shifting coils to face Lucius more fully. Head tilted to look strangely up at him, she reopens her eyes and drops half a meter in height to study what would appear to be the underneath side of his chin. Watching heat pulse through one's veins was an interesting past time, apparently.

Lucius Nepos is rather dumstruck for a few more seconds, until the Syladri drops to his height. Regaining what he percieves as initiative, he says, "I.. wanted to apologize. For what I did to the city. I don't exactly know how you fit into this place, if you're their leader or not but it doesn't matter in this case. Is there anything we can do, without mucking things up more than they already are?"

Hardly a creature of bright colors or flashy plumage, the young Marked Imperial Freelander, Kael, makes his way into the eastern part of these kept gardens, visibly relaxing as he moves into this peaceful place. The young man trades a nod with one of the roving human Blood Guard, a wry grin and a few quiet words - seeming at ease, as he takes in the beauty of the footpaths. His path takes him in the direction of the garden's center, at no particularly hurried pace.

Paying more attention to the shiny bits of cuirass and other frontal armor than the man's face, Tshepsi drops another degree and slinks around to peer at his other side while her tail leisurely catches up. She eyeballs the scarf with particular interest after staring at her warped reflection in the neck guard. "I wasss sssummoned to call ttthe children home....but ttthen ttthere wasss much fear in ttthe heartsss of men. Sssuch fear, sssome of it, hasss been disssplaced. What isss ttthisss word, 'muck'?"

"I'm.. not sure what you mean, Lady." Lucius sputters out, taken aback by the Syladri’s attention to his armour. He doesn't move anything besides his eyes though, trying to keep them on the Archmage's face as much as is possible. "To muck things up means to influence negatively.. I understood that I helped do so, when I gave my seraphite shield to the Drake."

Within eyeshot of Luc and the Syladri, at this point, the young freelander pauses, arching an eyebrow - expression curious. When he does start moving again - still some distance away - though his path will take him near, he seems to endeavor to avoid interruption, angling past the conversation in the direction of the Spire itself, a route that will give the speakers as much room as he can manage.

''It is a quite cold early evening. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. A torrential downpour of rain soaks the land relentlessly.''

"A bartering...to rid ttthe sssoulsss of Hisss taint?" Tshepsi inquires for clarification, one willowy finger pointing to the spire that towers almost within reach - an edifice that just days prior would have been her place of slaughter, but now offers peace and solitude. Finally, she releases the scarf from her stare and turns those piercing eyes on Lucius instead. Speckled scales circle around his heels as she moves back to his front and rises again to normal height. The breeze dies suddenly, laying her flimsy garments to rest over the exotic frame. Motionless, the Syladris may as well have been a statue as she waits for a response...that is until her forked tongue slips in and out between pointed teeth and hauntingly vacant tone of voice makes a greatly belated prediction. "Sssmellssss like rain...." And then the first drops hit, sky turning swiftly to open its belly relentlessly over those walking the land.

Lucius Nepos doesn't seem to mind the rain at the least, merely placing his helmet over his head so it doesn't get too wet. "A barter. A barter of services, Lady Tshepsi." He butchers the name, obviously, and winces at his pronounciation. "If we can do anything, I need to discuss with the leader of the expedition, but am I not right to say that we did harm?"

Rain? The freelander /does/ raise his hood, the sudden storm seeming to invigorate him, as he looks up into the sudden downpour (the raised hood, for that moment, doing very little good). There's an odd delight in it, Kael pausing to drink in the moment.. and then, with a low laugh, padding on - drawing abreast of and moving past the far more serious conversation, offering Lucius a wolfish grin from inside his hood.

"Ttthe consssequencesss will be revealed...but of ttthe missstake wasss born blessssingss. Gratitude to balance punissshment...if there isss any to be had." Lifting her gaze to the bleeding heavens, Tshepsi searches for the sun. "For now, I cannot ssssee." The rain had felt pleasant at first, giving moisture to dry skin, but now it hardens into a torrential downpour. Tiny spears of cold pounding over her wounded skull, nipping painfully at the damage that the hands of men had wrought. An ugly sound of protest squeals from Tshepsi's throat, sending an accursed shriek to the skies for their disgraceful acts. The noise amplifies as it rises in pitch and intermingled with the cry are warbled hisses of HIS name. The Lady is quite capable of throwing a tantrum, it would seem, but just before the vows of violence reach a level to burst the human ear, her teeth click together and it is silenced.

"I see. Then there is nothing much we can do, it seems." Lucius says with a bit of a sullen nod, smiling at Kael at the same time. He is as surprised as the Archmage when the rain goes from light to massively heavy. Thinking quick, he reaches into his bag and snakes out his wolfskin cloak, offering it passingly to the Syladri.

Kael actually cringes back from the snake-woman's tantrum, wincing and covering a rather sensitive ear. When the sound trails off, the young man peers at her and, quite seriously, "Well, 's nae any need fer /that/ nonsense." Torrential downpour. Yup, he's just getting soaked, cloak or no. A calloused finger works at an ear, his expression still pained in the aftermath. ".. Light, miss. Warn a man sometime, aye?"

Silently, Tshepsi accepts the wolfskin and drapes it plainly over her head. Veiled eyes watch him steadfastly still for a few moments, then her body pivots yet again to face the passed Kael. "Why have you come..." She questions melodically to both men, apparently not /too/ concerned with any momentary discomfort she'd caused. She pauses still in the rain, now guarded from its adverse intentions. The drenched velvet that shields her breasts in accordance with human custom now flawlessly blends with her palid flesh and her scute guard harmlessly reveals a touch of her belly scale's mottled color. Moving with fluid ease along the slick pathway towards Kael, Tshepsi seems not to mind the rain too terribly, inflicted pain aside.

Looking up at the Slyadris woman, and flashing her a lopsided grin, the young Freelander waves at the garden. "S' a beautiful place. I find m'self wanderin' here quite a bit, as o' late." His expression is curious - oh, perhaps even a trifle wary, but not afraid, no, not afraid. "Feels right, y' ken?" He offers, brightly. "Kael - Alan's son, miss - y' got quite a voice, there."

"Heh. Good question. Why have we come.. I find myself wondering if we'll ever find what we're looking for." Lucius says, sighing a bit as he looks up to the sky briefly. The rain pours down his face like this, offering a sort of refreshment to the soldier that he seems to relish, at least for the minute that he remains in this position. He resumes eye contact with the Lady, smiling weakly. "Several moons ago a ship that floated in the air and had some sort of mechanical contraption crashed within our wall.. I was witness to the crashing. A small man, much smaller than either of us was the pilot, I imagine, but died soon after the crash. We know it came from out of the Aegis which houses the Empire, but not from where. Our Emperor commissioned us to find the source of this, which we believe may be somewhere in the mountains or perhaps beyond them." He wipes his face down with an equally wet gloved hand. "We'd originally come here down the river with our boat to ressuply and ask the people of the town if they knew.. of course, we found a city instead of a town that'd been there the year before. And a conflict. Do you know where we could find these men, if they are such?"

Kael's curiosity is mirrored in Tshepsi's expression as a result of his strange answer to her question, and so as Lucius offers one in turn, she quirks her head aside to listen more closely. A wavering nod sways the wolfskin against her spine. "It issss beauty," the Syladri offers first to Kael, then offroads from the paved stone to the grass. Her tail coils loosely there and her 'haunches' sit back upon it. The convenience of possessing a built-in throne is something to give thanks about, for sure. "Creaturesss of ttthe sssky do not include the race of men. Your leader...he ssssends you to ttthe mountainsss. Flight will find you, but not in ttthe manner you ssseek."

The marked man blinks at her, "Well, y' asked." He pauses.. and seems to put a few things together. "Oh! Yer th' tower Lady." The thought certainly seems to please him, and he actually sketches a bow utterly lacking in social graces her direction. "S' good t' see ye well.. o' 't least I kin hope yer well. Donnae really ken how t' tell." Bright and friendly, if nothing else.. but he subsides, watching her with naked curiosity, letting Lucius speak of more important matters.

"I am confused, Lady." Replies the soldier matter-of-factly as he walks along with Tshepsi until she comes to a stop on the soaking wet grass. He too stops in front of her, pulling his arms behind his back. "They are not in fact men. Do you know where these people are?"

"When Ssshe wissshes me to know, I will know." Tshepsi offers with a shrugging of her tail's tip, flashing a brief array of color. "Creaturesss of the sssky do not include ttthe race of men," she repeats and lifts her face to said sky to watch the rain dissapear. The chill, however, lingers and so she keeps use of the cloak. "If your people cannot fly ttthen why doesss your leader sssend you to learn? Or doesss he?" The seraphite embedded in her claws begins to glow as the daylight wanes. She pulls the cloak back from her eyes and watches the flecks of color in Lucius' eyes intensely. Her lips mumble a final time "...or doessss he."

Kael's attention drifts over to Lucius, at that, an eyebrow raising - it seems the answer to that question intrigues him nearly as much as it does the Syladri.

Lucius Nepos shakes his head, bewildered and intrigued at the same time. "He sent us to talk to these people, and tell them that we weren't hostile.. Whether we will learn to fly or not is not a part of the mission I am privy to. I do not think so. The Emperor wishes for us to establish diplomatic relations."

Breaking away from the passing citizens of Crown's Refuge travelling along the roads about the Corona, Wolfsbane stalks along towards the spire, his movement slow and almost wandering. And though his face is kept foward, his eyes slowly lift to trace upward along the spire, following the way to the top.

"Tthen why ssso many men?" Tshepsi continues, head tipping to the other side to study his garb and weaponry a second time. "Why ssso many weaponsss? Diplomassssssy isss a matter of peace. It isss a thing very few wildland creaturessss underssstand." Pausing, the Syladri’s head gives a little twitch, echoed then throughout her tail. Her tone changes to one more grave, hisses more pronounced. "But...you will learn in time. The Ssshade walkerssss...they are very good teacherssss."

"Shade walkers?" Kael takes a peculiar interest, there, eyes narrowing. "What sort o' fellow 's that, m'lady? Y' seem t' think w' are goin' t' hae t' fight 'em, from what 'm hearin'."

"Defense. The Wildlands are dangerous place. Going without weapons, from Fastheld all the way to the Dragonspine would be foolish, and suicidal. Last time we came to Crown's Reach, my unit had to relieve the town, as it was then, from a major siege by Black Wildlings. It seems you've been lucky enough to be left alone by them, for now, though I suspect they scheme in the background even after I took their chief's head." Lucius replies, half bragging and half stating matter of factly. "But I too do not know what you mean by Shade Walkers." "You'll have to excuse us.. We're simple folk, really. Fastheld is so sheltered from the rest of the lands." He adds.

The approaching ranger lowers his eyes from the towering spire, fixing his attention on the trio in conversation. He frowns slightly in some thought, biting his bottom lip lightly in a brief twitch, before drawing closer. He pauses a small distance away, waiting politely, his attention flitting from one talker to the next.

A sound of enlightenment sighs from Tshepsi's lips and she nods her understanding. The pupils dilate broadly in efforts to compensate for the swiftly approaching darkness. "Ttthen it isss ttthat you've already met tttthem. The Sssshade Walkerssss." Her lips pull back to bare a wickedly sharp smile that's far from innocent. "Tttheir bonesss crussssh easssily." In testament to that statement, the opalescent tail flexes the lower half of the coiling before unraveling all together. She slides forward and removes the cloak from her head to pass it back to its rightful owner. "But of courssse I'm ssssure you already knew ttthat."

Kael sniffs at Lucius. "An' y' said I woul 'nae hae much fun out this way." He shakes his head, tone light - not a /bit/ of seriousness in it. "Y' a ruddy liar, y' are. n' me mopin' about bein' /bored/. Hmph."

"Their bones may crush easily, Lady, but they seem to adapt quicker than their green cousins. I'm not sure if you know but... for centuries the Green tribe attempted to get into Fastheld to release Kalath'aria." Lucius says, smirking as he pats Kael on the shoulder. He takes the cloak with a nod of thanks.

Seriousness resumes when the Imperial soldier talks again. "They stopped once she was released.. but while they never showed any interest in our technology, their black brethren seem to. When they were here they used bows. I imagine they are numerous and have further adapted technology. They are a scourge to all who would want peace."

The frown remains on Vhramis' face as he listens to the back and forth, his left eye twitching slightly as Lucius mentions the wildling's aquired skill of archery. He looks suddenly a touch more uncomfortable, folding his hands under his cloak.

"For centuriessss..." Echoes the Syladri, her gaze becoming distantly lost as a faint, almost nostalgic smile softens the formerly wicked expression on her face. "It sssseemsss we have misssssed many thingssss in our sssssleeep." Eyes still vacant, Tshepsi begins to slither away with gentle sway, returning to the safety and warmth of the tower. "Centuriessss."

Kael watches her go... admittedly bemused... and then, belatedly, calling.. "m'lady - " And then, it seems, perhaps thinking better of it, biting his lip. He looks over to Lucius.. then down, shaking his head before reaching up to draw his hood back, muttering.. "'nother time."

"Your.. sleep?" Lucius asks himself curiously as the Lady slithers away, watching her with interest. "An intriguing conversation. More questions than answers, as always. Light, I should have figured so." He turns around to see Vhramis and smiles at the man. "Vhramis. How do you do?"

Wolfsbane shrugs somewhat the question from Lucius, glancing to the withdrawing woman, before gesturing curiously at her, an eyebrow raising slightly in silent question.

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