The Lost Boys

Earlier this evening, a song was sung across Crown's Refuge - a lament. If it was male, female, or even human is not certain, or even exactly where it came from. A beautiful song, many of the syladris had gotten up and started to dance slightly to it... until, several minutes in, it cut off rather suddenly.

Since then, it has been a rather ordinary night in the Basin.

''Located in the north-western quarter of Crown's Refuge, the area known as Snowfall Basin is quite an impressive sight indeed. Delicately balancing nature with culture, Snowfall Basin maintains the Syladris population of the freehold by providing them with a large area that remains suited to needs that have only recently been discovered.''

''Set around the basin itself - a bowl-shaped cold water depression carved into the surface of the bluff that Crown's Refuge sits atop - it is unusual by just how much it differs from the Human residences just towards the east. Open-air pavilions and gazebos provide much of the structures that the Syladris call home, while leather tents scattered between these more permanent structures offer a more suitable means of privacy than the depths of the water should such things be required.''

''A number of deciduous and evergreen species of tree have been planted amidst the area, turning the "Syaldris Quarter" into one small forest around the large stretch of water. Some pavilions stand taller than others, indicative of status within the newly forged cultural identity that the Syladris are attempting to shape, though all that can be seen feature flowing couches and benches that serve to adequately support and provide comfort for such an unusual half-breed race when they're not otherwise coiled around an overhanging branch or lost beneath ripples of icy water.''

''A blanket of fallen leaves and short, lush grasses surround the basin and the various structures and statues that inhabit the area, all contained within a short marble wall that defines the perimeter of this large region of natural beauty and architecture. Paved trails leading towards the east and south lead back to their respective pathways, while the shadow of Tempest Spire looms ever-present towards the southeast.''

Pretty music has always been something that has drawn Mysra's attention, and tonight is no exception. The goldscale has been slithering amongst tents and gazebos, finger cymbals in hand she she asked her friends if they knew who had been singing the song. She continues to search, occasionally clapping the small instruments together as though hoping to incite the mysterious voice back into song.

One male wildlander, lacking tact, puts his hands over his ears as Mysra comes by. "No, for the last time, none of us knows who was /singing/ Mysra. It was probably some bard from Fastheld."

"Ohh," the goldscale sighs, a bit disheartened. At least that makes her stop playing with the little ringing cymbals, "It wasss a very pretty sssong. Mysssra wissshesss to hear it again." She rubs at her chin a bit and wanders towards the lake, seeking a place to settle and think about how she might get the voice to sing again.

"Well if you find the singer, let 'er know about me, eh?" the young man calls over. "I bet a voice like that, she's a good lay. And if it's a he, I know a few I could introduce him too!"

Near the edge of the basin, a woman in her late twenties comes wandering, mostly running, in, looking around herself frantically, eyes wide with worry. Mysra is making her way down to the lake itself, looking rather thoughtful.

Taran is...walking. Just walking, and that seems to be effort enough for the time being. As the woman darts by, he asks, "Why so rushed?"

"Mysssra will, yesss," the Syladris calls back, before the running woman catches her attention. The goldscale frowns and slithers over her way, abandoning her thoughts in favor of being helpful. "Isss sssomething wrong?" she asks of the woman, taking a moment to wave her finger-cymbal-wielding hand at Taran as she approaches the runner.

The woman slows down as she's addressed, turning to look at Taran, then Mysra with ice blue eyes. "It's m'boy," the young woman says. "Can't find him, wherever I look."

Taran blinks. "...Well, then," he says simply. "Tell us what to look for, and the three of us can split up and broaden the search?"

"What isss hisss name? What doesss he look like? Mysssra will help you look for him," the Syladris says softly, tucking her instruments away.

"Gailin," the woman says, clasping her hands together. "He's... a small thing, with black hair. It's not just him though. He and his four friends, we can't find them, their mothers and I. They ran off when we weren't paying attention, during the song."

Taran mmms. "On the east side of town?" he asks. "Those children?"

"The pretty musssic that no one knowsss where it came from?" Mysra asks, "Mysssra hasss been looking for who sssang it ever sssincsse it ssstopped. Maybe the children went looking for the sssinger, too?"

"I... they could be anywhere," the woman says as she looks to Taran. "But, we were over there, yes." Mysra gets an emphatic nod.

Taran nods thoughtfully. "And you came along the northern city wall, yes? So that is covered. We try the southwest corner then, and the spire."

"Ssshe hasss not looked here yet," Mysra says, "Mysssra will asssk her friendsss if they have ssseen the Gailin and the othersss. Ssshe hasss many friendsss who sssee many thingsss. They will know if the children came through here." The goldscale slithers off to do just that! Tent to tent, gazebo to gazebo, the search renews with a new target!

"Oh, thank you," the young mother says, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, thank you. Off... in the exchange?"

Wherever Mysra goes in her aimless search, she gets a few shrugs, except for one young-in-form syladris who laughs and says, "Gailin! I remember. I like him and hisss friendsss. He isss going to ssshow me how to make sssmelly eggsss."

Taran nods. "I will go that way," he says. "And see if I can find this boy." He smiles slightly, as if a peculiar joke has occurred to him.

A bit disappointed in her search, Mysra returns to the others, "They have not been to the Basssin today, but Mysssra'sss friendsss know to come find her if they ssshow up." She follows along with the others, then - southward, ho!

The western artery of the independent freehold known as Crown's Refuge is known quite simply as the Western Pathway; a road of smooth cobbles, wide enough for two carriages to pass with space to spare, that runs a perfect west-east route between Tempest Corona to the west, and the eastern palisade wall.

''The cobbles of the pathway are not only smooth and level, but also seem to have been born from a variety of different types of stone, giving each one a distinct color as it rests next to all the others. Hues of brown, gold, bronze, slate, charcoal, and a myriad of other shades all conspire together to make such a route more affluent than it really needs to be.''

''The sides of the pathway are protected by low-rising curbs that mark where the road ends and the rest of the large township begins. Beyond those curbs, homes and stores flank the pathway in carefully placed patterns of building and street. Small backroads and trails break away from the main artery to lead to the two eastern quarters of Crown's Refuge that the Southern Pathway runs as a divide between.''

''The towering fortification known as Tempest Spire dominates the eastern skyline, while the the quarter of the freehold known as the Snowfall Basin rests towards the north; a cold-water lagoon around which the Syladris Wildlanders of Crown's Refuge live. The expansive trade plaza known as the Mongoose Exchange exists within the south-western quarter of the freehold, and as such can be found to the south of the pathway.''

Taran focuses mostly on maintaining forward motion, but he seems to be listening about him with great care.

There's a trail veering off the path to the west here, for those who know what to look for. Grass crunched down by small feet, and a toy soldier, dropped and forgotten as the trail heads off around the back of the House of Sun and Shade.

Mysra follows along, amber eyes looking about for kids as golden-hued scales slide along the ground with a soft hissing sound. She remains silent for the moment, focused on looking around.

Taran pauses as his staff taps a fallen toy soldier. Bending to pick it up, he makes his way around the House of Sun and Shade. "...I suppose I should be relieved it was shut down. I never considered children near it."

"Thisss isss the placsse Gefrey wanted to look at before," Mysra remarks, slithering around the building with Taran to take a look, "Mysssra doesss not think he came back after that."

Taran makes a face. "Nobles. I hope Tshepsi wakes up and starts taking control of her city. She'll lose it if she doesn't." Watch, listen, walk with care.

Taran, Mysra, and a young woman are searching around the House of Sun and Shade! "How could ssshe lossse the Refuge?" Mysra asks, a little confused as she continues looking around.

The young woman steps toward Taran, looking to the building, before back up at the bard. "Is my son in there?"

Muri approaches from the direction of the Spire, pack on her back and a thoughtful smile on her face. Hearing familiar voices, she turns her steps toward the House of Sun and Shade. "Wot all 'ere, aye?" she asks, coming close to Mysra. "Ev'rythin' alrights, Missus?"

Taran shakes his head. "They've gone around, madam," he says quietly, going around himself. "Thankfully large groups of children leave wide trails."

Mysra glances back to Muri, "Thisss woman cannot find her ssson and hisss friendsss. They ran off while the musssic wasss playing, and we are looking for them. Did you hear the musssic, Muri? It wasss very pretty. Mysssra looked for the sssinger when it ssstopped, but could not find them." Slither, look, slither, look.

Quietly, the young mother nods and walks after Taran, lightly stepping off the path after the bard.

Muri shakes her head, concern clouding her eyes. "Nay," she says. "Twas jus' comin' back from Light's Reach, see, dinnae 'ear de music. Ah'd 'ave lahk too." She cranes her neck. "Dey caint of gone fer. Mayhaps dere playin' a game?" She joins the search. "Ye knowd dere names, Missus?”

Taran leads the way around the House of Sun and Shade, now heading behind the large structure. He holds out a little toy. "This far at least they came."

"Her child isss named Gailin," Mysra provides helpfully, "He isss sssmall and hasss black hair. Mysssra doesss not know the namesss of the othersss, but Taran hasss found their toy and a trail."

Back behind the house there is... nothing but a horse carved of shardwood, a tiny leather sandal, and a dropped sweet. There is no sign of a trail going anywhere else.

"Where... are they?" the mother asks, before going to pick up the sandal, looking dazed.

Muri nods and follows after Taran. "Anyfin', Messer Taran?" she asks. "Tis dark back 'ere aye? Caint seen a thin'." She pushes her hood aside hoping to gain more sight.

Taran bends down stiffly, running fingertips over an indentation in the ground. Head raised, he frowns at the wall before him, then straightens up, leaning on his staff. "They found something," he says, musing. "Mysra...could I see your hands, please?"

The goldscale... blinks. "Mysssra'sss handsss?" she asks, holding them out for the bard, "What do Mysssra'sss handsss have to do with anything?" She looks rather confused.

The mother stays back, watching. "It's Gailin's sandal," she murmurs, looking more scared now.

Muri steps aside to let Mysra past her, then offers the mother a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "We'll find 'im, Missus," she says gently. "Don' worries over, aye?" She watches Taran and the syladris.

Taran points Mysra to the indentation in the ground, the scratches on the wall. "Syladris fingertips are closer to claws than fingernails. There's no sign of violence that I can see. Maybe they just found a Syladris singer and we'll find them in one of the tents."

"Mysssra'sss friendsss did not sssee them," the goldscale remarks, reaching out to try and scratch near the mark that is already on the wall for a comparison, "Mysssra knowsss many of the Sssyladrisss around the Basssin. Ssshe doesss not think they are there."

And indeed, whatever the claw marks are, they don't appear to match up to a Syladris' hand.

The mother leans against Muri, nodding slowly.

Muri wraps her arm around the mother and looks over to Taran. "D'ye thin' dey come 'cross someone dat c'n shapechange, Messer?" she asks. "Someone from de 'ouse o' Sun 'n Shade? Mayhaps de follow dem somewheres."

Taran nods. "If not a Syladris, then a shapechanger is the next best guess. One that can gate or teleport, possibly, because... I can see no trail from here." He frowns, thinking.

The goldscale falls silent, regarding the scratch on the wall throughfully. She "hms" softly to herself and down to retrieve a flanged mace (which her player keeps forgetting to mention in her desc). Mysra regards the weapon, before dragging one of the flanges on the wall as well near the original scratch.

Again, the scratch marks do not match.

"Dere anyways ye c'n trace a...a portal such, Messer?" Muri asks. "Caint 'magines anyones dat come t'de 'ouse 'ere would take a chil'. Mayhaps twas a mistake?" She continues to comfort the woman the best she can.

Taran shakes his head. "There's ...no track to find," he admits sadly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's nowhere they could have gone from here and leave no trace, without Shadow's aid."

Mysra cannot think of anything to say, at the moment, and so she instead offers the woman a hug.

The mother pulls away from the hugs, before turning away from the group gathered behind the House of Sun and Shade. "Thank you," she says, before starting to walk away.

Back to Season 8 (2008)