"It's one thing to submit the plans and discuss the timeline and *huff* plan out the resources for this. Is a completely different *huff* thing to throw me scribbles and say, 'Make it 'appen!"
*Sshhhtnk!*
Gently pulling the fine granite from the mountain side, Tandy continues her muttering and complaining as she deposits the large chunks of verite granite into her bug's storage space.Normally a stoic and agreeable woman, this fine morning has the mistress crafter all ruffled.
"Gotta make more room, says she! Lark is back, need us more vendors, and yes, move all the public services closer to the main entrance!" Standing tall with the pick axe resting on her shoulder, Tandy looks at the giant beetle.
"'An dun ferget ta move da hall, an' make sure ma office be clean when I git back!" Tandy imitates Kirthag's celtic speech rather well, "BLAST IT ALL!" she yells as she expertly swings her tool back into the mountain.
"One would almost think you wish to swing that thing into Kirthag herself, maestra," a sing-song voice states.
Tandy whirls around, pick axe at the ready, only to see the newest resident of Evergreen, Lark Kohl, sitting atop her ethereal llama. Relaxing her stance, Tandy wipes the sweat from her forehead and eyes the other female.
"Figured you would be up this way, Darksinger, "Tandy clips her words. "Lots of critters around for you to hone your skills on."
Lark smiles slightly, an almost childish vision. "I do not use Darksinger anymore - just as you do not use Minerva. We all change with time, maestra."
Tandy jerks at the mention of the "old" name. "We may, bardess. Although there is one constant among us." Once again, she grips the axe and scowls thinking of the paladin's barked orders.
"You mustn't hold it against her; Tandy is it now? Kirthag has so much to prepare for." Lark nudges her ghostly mount to a slow walk toward the north. "After all, she wouldn't have found a way for me to return if it wasn't necessary."
Tandy glares as the bardess passes her. The decrepit lute sounds with perfect harmony, reacting against the slender fingers plucking its strings.
"There are whispers, dearest tinkerer. Old enemies and older friends are whispering." Lark stares into the distance, her eyes losing focus as her mount takes her toward the swirling snow around the bend. "You are part of the plan, Tandy," the wind carries Lark's words as she disappears behind the mountain.
Tandy watches, realizing she is standing against the mountain without proper clothing as a tempest works its way toward her. Shivering, she whistles to her trusty beetle, silently wishing for her flaming bug than this her oldest pet. She stows her tools in the bug's pack, then expertly swings onto its back. Laying low, Tandy rifles through her rune book making sure she still has a charge for the spell back to the YCC. "Long way from Napa, eh bug?" she muses, then whispers the words of power just as the blizzard descends.
-vWv-
Swatting at a biting mosquito, Kirthag makes sure she catches the pesky insect without making noise; no easy task wearing full plate armor in the dank jungles of Trinsic. She must be silent, for despite this being the blasted land of Felucca, there is all sorts of activity going on. The celt is on one of her regular jaunts through the countryside, surveying the land and the whereabouts of ---
"I dun ken why I still do tis," the paladin mutters softly to herself. Having traveled the mists from Napa, it has been a very long time that Kirthag has seen anyone she actually knows. But for the dreams, and the whisperings, Kirthag would instead be out on the warm seas, pirating--er--capturing pirates and their ill-gotten-goods for the betterment of Yew. She had just repainted her vessel, the SV Evergreen, and had finally gotten the concept of the new cannon firing system, when the visions started. She pushed them to the back of her mind, that is, until, a certain boy came to talk about some 'fellowship' seeking audience with Blackthorn.
Kirthag's pooka stops, ears flittering back and forth as it seeks to locate the source of some sound it hears. Breaking from her reverie, the paladin slowly turns in her saddle to peer through the jungle behind her. No movement, not even those pesky mosquitoes. Fingers wrapping around the hilt of her Soul Seeker, the active part of Kirthag's mind whispers this would be the Bloodwood in Napa. Here, in this shard called Pacific, the area is nameless.
And so, too, are the riders off in the distance. She hears them before seeing them - and decides she is not quite ready for a fight against a roving band of murderers.
"Sanctun viatis!"
And in a flash of light, she is gone.
Seven riders cloaked in black ride upon the spot the paladin just vacated. They circle around, detecting who was there, how long hence, and if was friend or foe. Their speech is soft, quiet, not even audible. The leader nods once, and the band heads deeper into the jungle, leaving the small clearing bordered by a large pond.
-vWv-
Lark trudges through the blizzard, the small female almost doubled in size from the amount of the caked on snow that enshrouds her. Silently, she thanks the gods for the thick cloak she wears right now - without it she would surely find herself in a terrible way in short time.
The lute safely tucked under her cloak, Lark stopped playing for a bit now. Her magic just isn't strong enough yet to deal with the cold and the beating blizzard at the same time, she has a goal to reach and no amount of blowing snow is going to stop her. Grateful for her magical mount, she just huddles beneath her cloak against the elements...
... which suddenly cease!
Aware that only a few steps behind her is a raging tempest of snow, wind, and ice, Lark quickly casts a few protective spells upon herself for warmth. No sooner than having done that, she is whisked away, only to end up standing before the Shrine of Honesty. Lark smiles, for this is her destination, then kneels atop the alter to begin her meditations in preparation for what is to come.
