Through Ashes of Silver

There is no shortage of scenes within scenes at the end of the ritual. Ash falls like snow into the square as the people watching from the distance start to breathe again. They shuffle closer. Its a magical world. Highly magical. For the average person they have never seen anything like this. Awe and wonder replace what was once fear and despair in their eyes. Whether they wanted it or not, they became a symbol of something greater. Hope.
Paulo and Solus are seen as the morning sun gives the ashen snow a warm tint. Gone before, flickering out of existence like a distant night stars are hidden by the light of day. They walk away from the plaza, making no sound as they go. Solus turns to look back. Then once more she is gone. The white haired wizard holds his hand out to where she was. Only a glass orb, now. All things have a price. Even Hope. He turns to look back as well, then the light of day hits him and like a haze he is gone.
Clyde and Alcina find a spot near the other end of the plaza. Away from the group Ford carried out. They are thankful for any conflict that ends with minimal tragedy. Gabriel gets a maternal ruffle of his head by the red haired elf and Alexa is given a celebratory apple by Clyde.
Ford's chassis hisses and squeals. Something isn't right. A quick tap tap of his chest before he says, "Who was keeping track of the kill count?" to cut the silence with his monotone voice. Hopping down from Fords shoulders Roya lands on the ashen ground. She looks up at Ford. "If my count is correct I believe over 15 creatures were slain." Then pausing for a moment she put her hand on the back head. " Of course you got the most" looking up at him even more intensity then before with a beaming smile. "But Ford remember what Oracle said. You're not supposed to push yourself that hard. Looks like I'm gonna have to personally see to your survival young man" with a twinkel in her eye she pats his arm to drive the point home. "Couldn't think of a better person for the job," Ford replies with a metallic laugh of Ha Ha Ha. To think that years ago they were on a boat together with cages and backstabbing pirate captains. His helmet like face turns from the sky back down to Roya as the morning light gives the copper metal on him a warm shine. "You learn a lot about a person watching them fight. Couldn't ask for a more genuine reflection of our new crew," the warforged says with a slow scan over the plaza, "and I see good things." As the others boast about kill counts, an exhausted Syn turns her head to look back to Solus with thousands of words to be said, but she is not there. Syn slides down off Ford who grabbed several of the party members and rushed out of the ritual as it erupted in a field of snow like ash. “Solus? SOLUS!?” She shoves past the metallic chassis and circles him repeatedly, searching in a frantic state. She rushes out into the circle of ash, spinning around scanning the area for her friend to no avail. She is gone, and she stands there as the remaining flakes of white ash float down towards the ground. She falls to her knees and screams out across the center square. The scream is not of rage, but of raw overwhelming torment, pain, and sadness. Alexa scans the area after assessing Kravor being alive, taking a bite out of Clyde's celebratory apple. "Thanks" she says to Clyde, and exhausted half smile on her face. She looks around to say goodbye to Paulo, but notices she can no longer see him. A restraint feels as if it goes across her chest, a feeling of loss, of connection. She pushes it away as she keeps surveiling the area until she hears Syn's scream. Immediately she springs into action, running to Syn. Standing in front of her, the ash swirling around them from her run, she puts her hand on Syn's face. "Hey, are you ok?" Scanning her face she sees the torment... The pain. Taking her cloak off she drapes it around Syn's shoulders, knowing a hug might be too much right now. "It's going to be ok, just take a breath. We'll figure it out, I promise." Behind a shaking voice she grabs Alexa’s wrist as her hand touches her face. “She was here, she was right here.” As Alexa places her cloak over Syn’s shoulders, her hand falls from her wrist, falling onto her lap in an exhausted defeat. “I will not stop till I figure things out.” Silence fills the air, the thoughts of her friend, and the haunting memory of her last breath as Jacob Whyte laughs over them both flash through her mind then to the ritual, and Solus’s face.. Her eyes shift to behind Alexa at the ash covered body of Kravor. “…He’s…alive?…..” She says softly as if to force the pain in her chest and mind away. A distraction. Keeping an eye on Syn's face, "It would appear so." Noticing the blatant aversion, she plays along. Now is not the time, processing can happen later. "You should go check on him, I know you guys grew closer in the gate." She leads Syn towards him, while looking at where Solus stood, scanning the area to get an understanding of what happened. Was she actually corporeal, did she walk away, or simply disappear? A list goes through her head, adding to the list and notes of all the mysteries surrounding them. One more thing to store away. Syn stumbles to her feet, pulling the cloak off and shoving it back to Alexa. She lifts the large sword that came down from the sky, sliding it through the belt loop on her back. “Close?” Her teeth grind. “The more people I let in means more people that will stand in my way. You made that clear when I told you of the deal. Your face of disappointment said enough.”
Her tone shifts to anger, letting it flow as words instead of strikes of a great club or sword. “You…” Syn’s face falls dark, red eyes stare into Alexa’s “You dance around others torment, writing notes here and there, sending them to the shadows so your little candles can keep tabs. You claim to want to learn and solve the problems of this world yet tower over and judge those of us desperately clinging to whatever solution, what ever hope we have available. I bet you have notes on all of us here.” The words of lava keep coming. Unleashing all the anger into a personal attack on the blue-eyed woman before her. “Please enlighten me on how your note taking as solved ANYTHING.” She yells in her face. Alexa looks at Syn, each word lashing into her soul as they are yelled at her. Her cheeks start to flush in anger as "ANYTHING" is finally yelled into her face. Flashes of Avernus, of Gig's face smiling in malice, the murder in Syn's eyes, being isolated because she was too curious, a childhood alone. She takes one deep breath, the flush leaving her cheeks. Her eyes meet Syn's, cold... Almost stonelike. Calmly she states "They kept you alive, but you seem to have someone to puppet you to his will, so let me get out of his way." She gently grabs her cloak, puts it back on and strides over to Clyde and Alcina. She shouldn't have gotten close. She keeps making that mistake. Never again. Biting into one of his apples, Clyde asks Alexa as she returns as cold as death, "Girlfriend problems?" Alexa looks back to Syn, "no, I'm just being reminded of what we were taught to become a Candle. Personal attachments are dangerous." Clyde slowly tilts his head towards Alcina until he blocks Alexa's line of sight between hee and the woman (Alcina) who is glaring at her. "Not all danger is bad." Noticing Alcina's glare at her, Alexa feels the seclusion kicking in. "Of course not, you found a very strong, amazing woman in Alcina. You're lucky to have found each other." She scans both their faces once more "Thank you so much for your help here, I'm not sure we could have done it without you. I hope that hits your limit for adventuring for a while so you can get the well deserved relaxation with your family." She's exhausted, catering to people's emotions is exhausting. She pulls herself away from everyone. Go to what she knows, investigating. Of course, Alexa wouldn't get far without Clyde planting a hand on her shoulder. "Nope," the man says, "rehearsed speeches work on people who haven't memorized the script themselves. Breathe and think it through. What's more likely? Someone is having an emotional reaction and said illogical things or people are being logical and driving the message home with emotion?" He releases his hand from Alexa's shoulder. "I know. Clyde, you are so wise. Why thank you, Alexa, I've had years to hone this fine edge of wit and wisdom. Clyde, have my child. Sorry, Alcina has that locked down and I fear her more than Kelemvor. Get your jitters out and join us for dinner tonight." Alexa's shoulders slump. So tired. "I know she is acting out of emotion... But it doesn't stop it from hurting. Having some calm would be nice. Where should I meet you two?" She looks back to Clyde, eyes glazed and holding back tears. "One of these buildings," Clyde says as he looks around, "we need to find one with a functioning hearth first. I'll find you. And hey." One of those soft smiles from the rogue, "Feeling pain is a reminder than you're not dead. Or, well, undead. Undead would be bad. You'd make a terrifying lich or vampire. Avoid those, yeah?" A thought, "I'd wager a good meal will put everyone is good spirits. I am an excellent cook." Its true. For the people he isn't killing with said meals. A small smile goes across her face, "I'll make sure to stay among the living, don't worry." And with that she goes back to investigating. Her eyes wander over to Gig, a feeling of hatred comes across her... A feeling she is not accustomed to. It twists in her chest, mingling with fear. She looks away and finds a focus. Must find out what happened to Solus. As Syn is left to watch her closest friend walk away, leaving her to her anger and her new, soul devouring companion, a deep coughing sound erupts from behind her, echoing throughout the quiet, ash-covered courtyard.
Slowly raising to his feet, Kravor looks around in his new, shining silver skin. A look of confusion and slight wonder fills his face as he’s met with a sea of mostly unbroken, beautifully ashen snow, until his eyes land upon a broken Syn.
Slowly making his way over to her slumped form, he reaches his arms far behind his back, forcing a cracking sensation to ripple throughout his spine. His silver claws move across his body looking for the scars and wounds that he has becomes accustom to, finding nothing but shining scales. His claws finally find their way to his throat, softly rubbing over the reborn flesh. The look of confusion evolves into a smile. Not sadistic. Not quite joyful. Simply content.
Finally kneeling down a few feet in front of Syn, Kravor’s voice is completely foreign, the broken, gravelly voice replaced with a low, smooth sound of a noble born smooth talker. “I’ve spent quite a long time pushing those who care for me away.” Pausing to look around at the ash that surrounds them, he gives her a slight smile of appreciation. “Look where that’s gotten me.”
Turning to see Alexa walking away, a determined look across her face, he continues. “Hey.” He states, standing up and reaching a hand out towards Syn. “After all of this, I think I owe you a drink.” Syn watches Alexa walk away. Her words lingering in her mind. “…I am no puppet.” She mumbles under her breath until coughing and the sound of footsteps are heard behind her. She turns around to see Kravor. Her eyes widen as they scan over his body. The dark scales that once painted him are now beautiful silver. When he speaks, the gurgling voice is no longer there but instead something completely different. It takes a second to process the new voice, the new appearance.
She looks around at the fallen ash then back to the dragonborn. “It’s for their own good, and mine.” She says sharply. She turns to look back at Alexa speaking with Clyde and Alcina, questioning if she actually means that. Kravor calls her attention once more with the promise of drinks and she turns to look at him. What normally would be a fierce grin, rests an empty smile. “I’d prefer a few actually.” Bumping his hand with a weak fist. She takes a few steps back, turning to head back to the rest of the party. Looking over her shoulder to the Dragonborn. “…I’m glad everything worked out with the ritual. It would kind of suck if you exploded and killed everyone. Ah…that and I don’t have to look at that gash on your throat anymore. Bonus.” As Syn pushes past him to join the group, Kravor pauses to call after her. “Well, it’s always good to know you care.” With a smirk, he turns to follow her, walking awkwardly as he attempts to get used to the lack of a limp. Gabriel walks up to Alcina and taps her leg.
“I’m gonna go lay down,” he says with tired eyes and a little frown. As Alexa watches Kravor walk away with Syn, a sadness falls over her. Good, the two people who can't control themselves deserve each other. The thought twists and turns in her mind until she closes her eyes and forcefully pulls the thought away....' This will not help you. You can't think straight with emotions.' She walks over to where Solus last stood, looking for footsteps, or some signs of what happened to her. Distance from Syn may be good, but she can always help her from the shadows. There is a certain danger that comes with doing things alone. No safety net. No help. Syn, Kravor, and the Relic Hunters have left for drinks. Clyde, Alcina, and Gabriel have left to sleep and cook. It leaves one investigator alone in the ashes. Curiously enough, there are no footprints where she stood last. All evidence she was here at all is covered in a sheet of ashen snow. "What are we looking at," says the all to familiar voice of Gig, who is hovering over her shoulder. For most people this is alarming. For someone like Alexa, who has acute awareness. Who didn't even sense him until there was a sound? Its unnerving. Alexa feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up at his words. She stares at the ground, the breath seeming to leave her body. 'Breathe, you have to remember to breathe. Don't show weakness... He preys on that.' she reminds herself. She stands up and turns around to face Gig, his red eyes burning into her mind. "People don't usually make a habit of disappearing, I was trying to find traces of Solus." There is always something with Gig. One move just out of reach. Two eyes that burn red like the fires of Avernis. Without saying a word, the memories of those place haunt the back of Alexa's mind. Crawling forward like a burning darkness. Every day wondering if it would be the last before an eternity of suffering. Its the silence. Its deafening. Say something, Gig. Say anything! When the clawing becomes a deafening scream of emptiness and the fire of his eyes cause the blood to threaten to rip out of the heart that is beating it, the Devil says, "Why?" he asks. No. The world is fine. It isn't on fire. There isn't any screaming. It is a calm morning. Was that panic? Anxiety? Alexa struggles to grasp to anything, until one image grounds her. Paulo. Her mind goes to them bickering like children, to his cool demeaner. He can handle Gig... So can she. A stone like stance washes over her as her posture changes, taller, stronger. "As I stated before, people don't just disappear." "Is that true," Gig asks casually. Perhaps a bit too calm. Too collected. He opens his arms wide, talon-like fingers showing off the empty square. "Everyone looks gone to me. Its just me and you here, Alexa," the Devil states as his arms slowly return to his side. "Just you. And. Me." A startling clap at the end as he jolts forward close enough for the faint smell of brimstone and blood to linger on the air. Close enough for him to wrap those sharp hands around her throat. "It looks pretty common an occurrence to me, Alexa. Objectively speaking, all people disappear eventually, but you know that. Its a pretty common occurrence for you, Alexa." His red eyes wander up and around. They make a big circle in the black tar of the background the burning fire is set within his face. "Or is it you that disappears and the others stay? What is a more likely deduction? Everyone else disappears, you stay. Or you disappear, they stay? The common element here is the person who just. So. Happens. To have a little spell to do that." A click on the side of his cheek, "From a borrowed friend. Oh you are quite the book, Alexa. Quite a fine read. Why is it no one else notices your literature? Are you dead? A ghost?" 'Don't let him get in your head' she repeats in her mind, over and over again. "I am alive... I try to make a habit of not being noticed, although it seems I was unsuccessful with you." She tries to look at his face as long as she can, his red eyes make it difficult, unsettling. "And people leave, not disappear. Every magic has a trace. Either way, what am I to you? I imagine you have much bigger prey to go after." Every bit of her is focusing on maintaining composure, she can't let her fear creep back in, can't let any information get out. The very string of statements and questions makes Gig smile. Slowly at first as if a line being drawn. Then a grin forms, a wide maw of sharp teeth. "Alive? You mean, like Safina?" A dull throb of pain seems to pulse from this conversation. A toothache that sits in the marrow of the bones. "From a place you both left. Didn't you ever stop to question it?" He gives a short laugh, "No, of course you didn't. Why is that, again? Pride?" A throb as Alexa's shadow shimmers in the morning light. "Couldn't happen to you, no. You are too smart. Too in control." Gig gets closer. Uncomfortably so. His voice like a whisper, "But if you assemble the facts, isn't it strange that a queen of ravens that picks fragments of souls from the shadows made a pact with you?" He leans back from the whisper, "And you don't think you are interesting? A puppet telling others to mind webs, less they be tangled in strings, when she has the worst of them." A deep inhale fills his lungs, "Oooh I find the irony delightful, your cage you built for yourself." Hands clap like an amused child, "With no one to put up a mirror and show it to you. No one to go find a key. Forever." Alexa's mind flashes to when she made the pact, her desperation, the connection to the souls in Avernus. She can feel Gig's words weave into her mind, making her question... a panic alerts into the back of her mind, dull at first, but then throbbing through. 'Breathe. Breathe. Breathe' she keeps repeating in her mind... you can't break. Don't let the panic reach your eyes. "I did what I needed to try to find answers. The world was going to literal hell, she seemed willing to help." Deep breath.... the logic seems to be slipping her mind, she can normally come back strong with a response, but something is stopping this... she can't find the logic. "Besides, it's apparent that you brought back Safina, I'm assuming you have your needs for him, that appears to be what you do as well." Pull focus from herself... If she focuses too long, the logic falters The Devil taps himself on the chin. Tap tap. The sharp point of his talon is made more obvious like a fine cut of obsidian. "Now that is a phrase I can get behind. 'I did what I needed to'," Gig says as the tapping stops. He stares at Alexa in an uncomfortable pause. Those red eyes searching around in her soul for those lost pair of socks he wanted for the winter solstice. "I'm willing to help, plan on making a pact with me, too?" He smiles a moment in a crooked smirk, "Or do you think that she is willing to help and somehow her pact comes without a price? Maybe I'm a bad person doing a good thing, Alexa. Maybe I want to make sure Syn has a friend to build a snowman with one day." He walks with long, exaggerated steps towards the ash. Slowly he starts rolling the ash into a ball, "Would you like to build a snowman?" It doesn't have to be a snowman. Technically it is an ashman. "No, I would not." she watches Gig's movements. "My pact is none of your business. And no, I don't believe you're looking out for Syn. I think you were just waiting for her to be desperate enough to give in. And yes, I see the irony, but it doesn't change the fact." She's grasping, trying to pull away from herself. "I'm not against people making deals... but everything appears to be a game to you, death is purely entertainment." Gig continues to roll the ash around Alexa until it is a sizeable boulder of snow-ash. A solid body. "And how, exactly, do you know what is and isn't my business, Alexa? Wouldn't that presume you know what my business is? Is my business any of your business?" The Devil puts the second ball of ash on, "Won't build a snowman. And you think I'm the Devil here," he says. Turning to face Alexa he points to the incomplete snowman, "See? No head. That's all on your shoulders. Kids are going to be running through the streets going 'oh no, mommy daddy the snowman has no head, who would do such a thing'. Why do you hate children, Alexa? Their little delicious hearts filled with hope and wonder. And all they wanted was a snowman." A pause. "An un-decapitated snowman." "Interesting use of transference, because I do not want to build an ash man with you does not mean I hate children. You chose to make a decapitated snowman." She brings back more of her composure, although she is exhausted, her brain snaps into survival mode, running on fumes of logic. "Now you are getting it," Gig says, "Now take the words. Put them in new places. At the end of the day, this snowman will have no head. And you could do something about that, yet you do not," Satisfied, Gig keeps his eyes on Alexa. He holds out a hand and 'snap'. He disappears. The voice remains, "Tick Tock. Tick Tock," before fading away. His satisfaction bothers her. She looks at the snowman, the rage a frustration builds up in her, and she forcefully kicks through the ash, destroying the two balls. Her panic sets in, this isn't her, this is not how she reacts. He must be avoided, or at least only approached when she is not exhausted. She looks around herself, knowing he can disappear at will, not knowing when or if he's around. She wipes the ash off her cloak, at first calmly, and then almost obsessively... control, get control back. She can't get his eyes or his words out of her mind, she needs to escape. Silence. Her brain goes into a room of her logic, a peaceful place, where all her information is held. She tries to file away the information about Gig, but all she can feel is red eyes on her back, and a raven up above. She snaps herself out of it and walks towards the building with Clyde and Alcina... can she talk to them? Everything inside her wants to be alone, but she doesn't know if she will ever feel alone again. Walking into the building she just stands by the wall, closing the door behind her, keeping an almost militant stance. The make-shift tavern is empty come dawn as faint warm light trickles in through dirty windows. It hits across the dark woods of the tables and chairs. Syn slowly steps in, looking around the room to find no one inside, literally no one. She grins. “Don’t mind if I do.” She fumbles around the tables and reaches the long wooden bar, She takes out the newly acquired sword, holding it in her hand and hoping up onto the table. Placing the sword right beside her against her hip, she leans backwards. Running her hand along the top shelf under the bar until her palm hits a glass bottle. She leans forwards and her eyes are met with that of Kravor and Ford. “What? It’s called borrowing.”
She pops the cork of this small glass bottle, running it under her nose to smell the contents. Her nose wrinkles and looks to Kravor. “Well since Alexa is off doing gods know what and Clyde and Alcina are cooking, I am parking my ass here and drinking this till they come and get us. Seeing how you are alive and well, no time like the present to ruin your freshly new liver.” Eyes shift to Ford. “I guess you can just pretend to drink.” She tosses an empty mug in his direction. Roya peeks her head from behind Fords leg and stares questioningly that the young lady with horns. After the woman starts drinking Roya shugs and decides to join her up on the counter top. Struggling for a moment she manages to crawl her way up. She sits about 5 feet away from the drinking devil. Taking out of canteen she takes big gulp before speaking. " Your name is Syn right?" Pausing to look at Ford "stop gawking at her Ford, it's rude!" Then turning back to Syn "Sorry things have been a bit fast around here. As mentioned before I'm Roya" finished speaking she nervously fidgets as she quietly sips from her canteen, waiting Ford looks like he is gawking at everyone. At the same time he looks like he is looking at no one. Really the complete lack of pupils in an otherwise single gem-like facet that is his eyes makes it a pain in the ass to determine true eye contact. He gets his mug. Its a tiny thing that he fits neatly on the end of his index finger. "I'm familiar with taverns," the metal man says as he 'flip cups' the mug onto a table. "The last person stupid enough to try to drink me under the table was an old dwarf who didn't realize I don't have the squishy bits to do anything with alcohol. He thought it was a fair matchup." The warforge pauses, "We looted his tavern room after in 'celebration'." Reaching for his personal bottle, Kravor looks down to see nothing, forgetting that his Dragon's Fire has probably been downed by Gig at this point. "Waste of a good drink." He states, calling out his own fuck up. Reaching a hand over the counter, he feels around for a good bottle, pausing to see a faintly familiar face cowering where Kravor's booze should be.
Staring deep into the poor man's eyes, Kravor attempts to recall how he could possibly know the feeble sack of flesh. Despite the dragonborn standing tall with his new, gleaming silver scales and his lack of malicious intent, the man burrows himself deeper into his own skin, trying desperately to disappear from this situation. Calling over to the increasingly more intoxicated Syn, Kravor looks for help. "Syn. Come over here. Do we know this man ? Because I swear his face is familiar to me, I just can't place it. Syn’s attention shifts to the little half-orc that peeks behind the metal leg of Ford. Eyes follow her as she makes her way to the bar climbing up and taking a seat not far from her. “Yes, that’s correct.” Syn replies. “Nice to meet you…Roya. That was some fancy magic you did back there.” She grins as little sharp canines beam. She takes her sword and shuffles closer and closer to the little half-orc. “…Why are you so fidgety?” She gets weirdly close as she looks Roya over. “Hrmm….HRMM!?”
The rumbling around of glass grabs her attention, looking towards Kravor. “What?” She leans backwards, looking down behind the bar this time to see the cowering human. “Ooh…and what do we have here?” The man trembles and scoots farther back away from them both. “…I don’t believe I do……OH!” Syn bursts out laughing, taking another large sip from the glass bottle of booze. “Kravor you idiot! That’s the man you picked up and hurled across the square onto a roof. How the hell do you not remember?”
She leans forward again, leaving the man to tremble and briefly crossing eyes with Roya before grinning and shifting towards Ford. “That is…one way to win a drinking game, just bring in the warforged.” She laughs. “I’ve only ever seen one other similar to you when in Avernus. Ah…what was his name…” She tabs her finger against the bar table. “Care…..care…Caretaker? Ah, Caretaker. That’s what he was called. Do you know of him?” "A Caretaker model," Ford asks Syn . Or tells Syn. The lack of inflection makes it difficult to determine. "We did have one that was constantly breaking. They are not built to withstand repeated blows to the head and our family had a particular way of expression anger, gratitude, and salutations." The metallic golem stands in a place where the ceiling vaults higher. Even then, his many pointed antlers scrape against the top when he isn't paying attention. "It is possible to be the same one. I haven't seen many, which leads me to believe the forges are cold and you would have to use existing models." He taps his copper chest, "Even though I am a D'Acier class, plenty of my parts are not from the original design." With feet that continue to dangle from off the edge of the bar, she tilts her head looking over Ford. “You were built to fight things?” She asks with genuine curiosity. “And…you mentioned you also needed the crystal, what is that about? I don’t know much, if anything about warforged. Or does it bother you that I ask these questions?” She takes another sip from the glass bottle, curling her nose as she does so with a following cough. The metallic frame hisses as a valve releases pressure from an arm piston on Ford's body. Compressed air from trapped force. "Combat. Yes. Fighting, guarding, hauling," Ford goes on as he motions his hand as he speaks. Each topic of his creation is accented by the raising and falling of a wholly inorganic limb. If it wasn't for portions of leather, wood, and the those antlers he would be a full metal giant. "No, I don't mind so long as its tit for tat, starting with who Solus is to you." The question about the crystal will have to wait until later down the line of inquiry. Her eyes widen at the mention of her closest friend. There is a faint twitch in her hand as she rests the bottle on the bar. The grin across her face fades and she looks down at her own hands. “That’s…fair, I suppose.” Her fingers bend forward, making fists out of each hand then relaxing them once more. “She was my friend that I made during my time in slavery.” A sharp intake of air then an exhale follows as Syn continues to speak. “And I killed her.” Her bangs cover across her eyes as she looks down at her hands. “Because I had no choice. Our current ‘owner’ Jacob Whyte…kept killing her over and over and over again and I had to stand there and watch. Her screams, her blood, it just kept coming each time he brought her back to life to simply do it again. In order for me to stop it, I had to end her life myself. That’s the kind of sick fucker Jacob Whyte was.” There is silence in the room and Syn reaches over and grabs the bottle to finish the remaining liquid within. “I thought she was dead… but when we went into the gate her body was there shrouded in a large crystal. Because of that, I am now involved in…” She stops mid-sentence. “It’s caused me to make questionable decisions in order to bring her back to me. But she’s disappeared once more and I…. have no rhyme or reason to any of it.” Her head tilts upwards to look back to Ford. “Tit for tat. Hope that answers the question enough?” "Plenty insightful," Ford replies. Sarcasm? Authentic? Beep boop beep boop there are only high tones and low tones that are painted in a hazy static. Perhaps here is a good time for someone to say 'Dont worry, we will find her' or 'Oh shit, thats heavy'. However, Ford continues on without shifting in his place, "The crystal we acquired is part of my internal chasis," he reaches out to his torso and disengages several steel overlays to his copper inner frame. "For lack of a better definition? Its part of what keeps my soul in here," he says, opening up the chamber where an intricate weave of arcane crystals of purple, blue, and orange are set around an ever spinning astrolabe. "In our last battle, I damaged it. These are built to last, but our foe was." A large finger tries to point out the much smaller, delicate work inside of him. Results are limited, like fat fingers manipulating a tight circuit board, "considerable. As additional stress is placed on it, it is going to continue to chip and fracture until it shatters." The crystal itself has a deep purple line in it, if inspected close. Hairline fracture that is spidering out. "At which point I will likely die again," he shuts the compartment. Her face becomes confused and yet somewhat relieved. No other following questions, no face of judgement or fear. Just a casual acknowledgement of her story. There is something about that which causes her to feel more relaxed around him. He returns with his own explanation of his potential death as her eyes fall to the chamber that holds an intricate web of crystal in several colors. It’s rather beautiful in a foreign way but peering into the literal functioning soul is a tad off putting. “Again?” She asks as he shuts the compartment. “You’ve already died? How did you come back then?” There is a pause. Did Syn ask something too sensitive? Is there a... oh wait no, Ford was just thinking and has no fucking non-verbal cues from his body. "I have died at least one other time. It was roughly one hundred years ago, according to historical records," the big guy says, taking the time now to reapply his exochasis armor reinforcement. Click. Snap. Grind. Steel on Copper. "From the way he bitched about it, a wealthy merchant named Jacob Whyte spent a lot of money finding all the parts to put me back together again. An arm here. A torso section there. Surprisingly my inner chamber was in perfect shape. Very strange considering I discharged all the energy in it before dying." Like a warforged shitting himself on death, perhaps. "They charged it back up, and up I was." With the final plate on, Ford extends each finger and curls them back into a fist. "Im not sure if my Jacob Whyte is your Jacob Whyte, but I did kill a lot of his thugs before meeting family two point oh," he releases the fist. "Meatbags are so squishy. Like a wet sack of grain and potatoes. Speaking of wet sacks of grain and potatoes, what's the deal with Alexa Stone? " Its rude to speak of someone when they are not present. Ford gives approximately zero fucks about that, though. Her nails dig into the bar top’s wood at the mention of Jacob Whyte’s name. “Well it certainly seems like something he’d do. A need for something not flesh and blood to do his bidding sounds right up his alley. Though, I suppose resurrecting people over and over is also a fucking option.” She sneers at the thought.
Syn’s thoughts shift when he mentions Alexa’s name. “Alexa…” She chuckles, laying down on the bar to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know, we met in Avernus. Figured I’d tag along because she’s terrifyingly smart. She has good connections and is rather clever when it comes to combat. We’ve made a good team thus far. Why do you ask?” She rolls her head to the side, looking at Ford sideways. "You have a lead on Solus and anything as complicated as you mention requires brains as well as brawn," Ford offers in his deadpan stare as his helmet-head pivots. The four point antlers rake against the ceiling as he stares. Thoughtful stare? CAN YOU EVEN BLINK? A light pulse of his ruby gemstone lights that function as eyes in that helmet. "She struck me as the kind of person that has brains covered. Useful." A finger tap tap taps against the side of his metal leg. "You were in, literally, Avernus together?" Her head rolls back to the center, staring drunkenly up at the ceiling. Hands rise up to clap together. “Yes! Brains. Very much so. She’s…. a good person, much better a person than I, or so I believe. I can’t help but wonder why she puts up with me if not for her own personal gain.” There is a moment of silence as Ford stares at her followed by the slight dinging sound as he taps against his metal leg. “Yeah well you see, killing your friend and going berserk against everyone involved at the time seemed to gain the eyes of the infernal kind. So they sold me off to the wonderful plane of Avernus. Met Alexa there as we were both held in the same prison. We ended up escaping together, and that’s when I tagged along with her here in Arhor’ha. She’s investigating the slave trade of souls more or less and for those involved, I am seeking their deaths.” She grins.
Her hand falls off the side of the bar top, reaching down to find another glass bottle. Pulling it up and popping the cork. “Why are you so interested in our depressing stories?” She rolls her head to look at him once more, before propping herself up on one arm and taking a sip of booze. “Why are you following me around?” There is a short, if not oddly crisp answer to that from Ford, "That is what you do in a tavern. You listen to or tell stories." The wisps of monotone aether rasp off of his voice in a dull zzzzzztt at the end of the final s. The second part to that question takes more time to formulate. It is almost as if he didn't hear it. "The only way to answer that with any real ground to it is a story as well. A long one." Zzzt-pop. A long silence fills the air, taking another drink and laying back down on the bar. The ceiling starting to sway, and she laughs at the feeling. “Is that so…” She says in almost a mumble. “Well, if taverns are for story telling I am up to listen. If you plan on following me around literally everywhere, don’t you think I should know why? Or is it another one of those worldly secrets I can’t afford to know like everything else in this fucking life.” "Nothing that dire," Ford says as the copper and steel giant sinks down to sit on the tavern ground. The sheer mass of his frame cause the floor boards to creek angrily. "And telling stories is a past time of mine. As we covered earlier, I am a D'Acier class warforge. By the nature of my construction I was built to protect the household while at the homestead, protect and move cargo while at the warehouse, and acquire cargo while on the ship. That was the nature of how I came into the world, but it is not our birth that binds our fates, but our hearts." A phrase that seems familiar and incomplete, as if there is a second part to it. "Not my words, but the words of the man that had me constructed, James. They became my words by choice, not by command. Reading to the children at night, a choice, not by construction." There is a pause as he looks off to the side. A well placed deep breath would release the burdens of memory, but no such thing is possible in that metallic frame. The pressure is contained until it resonates out. "Freeport, the Freeport I lived in rather, believed in choice whether it was understood or accepted what that meant. It could take a lifetime explaining it without experiencing it. Much like you have to experience this lengthy story for an explanation as to how all this has to do with why my 'collateral' is remaining in your sight." "James and our family embodied those ideals, but it was no act of kindness. It meant that everyone was responsible for defining who they are. Being 'told' who you are goes against that idea. You give a child a sword, a pen, and a flute and tell him that if he wishes to eat, he needs to find his way. Its his choice how. If the elder son picks the pen and is a better writer, there isn't sympathy, there is the lesson that you picked poorly because your environment matters. It prepares many for Avernus, as you have already experienced. Devils will give no fucks about well wishes. Its a matter of survival and those from Freeport were ready to greet Infernals having prepared all their mortal lives for it." The head turns, settling in Syn's direction as if to punctuate the fact she survived Avernus. "And so the only way to know someone is to let them make decisions, not follow some predestined plan. And the only way to know who they have chosen to be is to be around them. Listen. Watch. It is not our birth that binds our fate, but our hearts. I wish to know what resides in yours. That answer is important to me, as it is what I have decided for myself as important." Syn stares up at the ceiling in silence, red eyes following the many paths of the wood grain that run along each plank above her. “I didn’t have a choice in the matter…” She says, breaking the silence. “I was thrown into this life without a say. I was thrown into Avernus without a say. Your choice was to follow that family, watch them, protect them, even read to them, but is that really your choice by nature if you just came to existence and were thrown into that life? Is that honestly your choice?” her arm comes up to run a finger along one of her horns. “It is not our birth that binds our fate, but our hearts…” She mumbles the saying back slowly, carefully trying to place the sentence. “Familiar…” She goes on to whisper. Letting out a heavy sigh and bringing her hand back down to rest on the table. “What resides in my heart…is the desire to take back what was taken from me. Those that have destroyed my choices, and my freedom. Jacob Whyte, his thugs, all of those in Freeport that turned a blind eye at the helpless bound in chains, even my mother.” She closes her eyes for a moment, her face, her voice so distant these days. A memory just barely clinging on. “And if what I’ve chosen now for myself are the wrong things? Then what?” "I didn't have a choice," Ford says as he looks over to Kravor for a moment. Then he looks over towards Syn. "If you believed that then, then you chose the life of a slave then. If you believe it now, then you chose the life of a slave now. Subject to other people's fates. A victim. Those are the clothes and tools of that role." A tap of his metal leg, "I could have chosen to kill every one of them when I woke to that family. I certainly did when Jacob woke me up. Choice. I could have died, but I wouldn't have died being anything other than what I chose to be. I don't wear shackles of fear and indecision." Another tap of the leg. "Killing Jacob won't be enough when the person who enslaved you is yourself. There are no 'wrong things' to chose. A slave that decides to be something else breaks their chains and be that thing. A merchant. A thief. An artist. An avenger. You don't think free men and women chain themselves into a perfect prison the other way around? Its just as common. People get tired of making choices and want others to make choices for them." Of course Roya has been around to notice when Ford is angry. He is angry. However its just a series of words from a metal husk as much as any other tone he uses. "It doesn't sound like Freeport turned a blind eye, they respected your choices, even if you blamed them for it. Jacob, however," there is a certain grinding of his hands, "now thats a man that is a problem. Not because he is wrong and we are right, but because he is 'somewhat' capable . No one is 'entitled' to anything and he is becoming more and more of a threat. Maybe I'll break his arms and coin purse." “I AM NO SLAVE!” Syn shouts, rolling over to hurl the glass bottle of booze in the direction of Ford. It misses him entirely as the alcohol has set into her bloodstream and the room continues to sway ever so slightly. The glass shatters across a nearby table and her eyes widen. Ah…there it is again. That rage.
Syn sits up, sliding off the table and stumbling for a moment. She grabs the sword and returns it to her back. “Maybe you’re right, but the hand was dealt to ME, I did not choose my cards.” His words bother her to the very core. My choice? My choice to be enslaved!? Her hand curls into a fist, nails digging into the palm of her hand at the thought. “My choices became limited because of the chains that kept me from making them. How would you have expected me to break anything when the power to do so didn’t exist at the time?” She takes a step forward. “It wasn’t till Avernus that I found that power, that strength to do so and now I stand here as an avenger. If not for me then for Solus. She takes one more step forward, placing a finger against his metal chest. “But I can stand here and argue over choices and it will not matter, you already see me a certain way don’t you? Just like Alexa and the others.” Her eyes stare into the ruby cores that are placed as eyes on the warforged. And that man Jacob, If it was as easy as you make it sound, I would have done that a long time ago. You don’t know him like I do. You can’t simply put a sword through his belly, you can’t simply break his arms. He’ll keep healing, keep coming back. To find a vulnerability, a method to truly end him is what I tried to figure out when I was a slave of his.” She recoils her hand, taking a step back and stumbling into the edge of a table. “Tsk…you don’t have a fucking clue what kind of person he is.” Roya Places her hand gently on Syn’s shoulder to stabilize her from falling over. Once Syn finds her balance against the table Roya quickly shoots Ford one of her well know death glares. “Ford we have talked about talking to people like that! Its not fair!” Then Roya turns her attention back to Syn. “Syn everything is okay right now. You’re safe. Ford can sometimes forget that blunt wisdom and alcohol don’t make for a good time. Please have a seat.” Roya hops down from the counter with a thud and helps Syn into a near by chair. “Please lets cool things down a bit. Slavery is a nasty system we all know this. In my case It’s a mixture of both dependence and resentment. It comes in many forms as well. It can hide behind laws, creeds, or even deals. My masters wanted to give me greater power even though people like me” Pausing to touch her tusks.” Are not known for our magical abilities. My masters feel that I owe them something in exchange for the effort that they put towards me. I will always hold that guilt with me no matter what.” Bending her knees only slightly Roya makes eye contact with Syn. “The best we can do in life is look at the choices we can make, and at that exact moment in time choose one, most of the time it is the right choice for you. But you also have to accept the consequences of your choices.” Standing back up she places a hand on Syns shoulder. “Take some time to rest and reflect. We have an experience that bonds us. You don’t have to feel alone anymore.” As a hand touches her shoulder, Syn, quickly glances down to Roya. Finding her footing she plops down into the chair staring blankly at the little half-orc. “You were…one as well?” Syn asks, shuffling her feet across the wood floor. There is a heavy understanding between them both that causes Syn to connect and lower her guard as she continues to speak to her. “You still call them your masters, why?” Syn looks Roya over, reaching out to grab her wrists. She looks them over before her eyes scan over her neckline. “You are not in chains, so then why? Why do you speak of them so casually if they forced such a life on you?” She lets go of Roya’s wrist, pulling her own hands back at the mention of loneliness. The warforged is rather calm throughout all of this. Or is he not calm? He sits there as Syn yells at him, swaggers around, accuses him of how he thinks and feels, and even taps the reinforce plate of his chest. What kind of story could those ruby red eyes tell? Enough to put every one of those statements into the grave along with Jacob. Yet there is no response. No reaction. Roya goes as far as chastise him, but those red eyes remain on Syn while she is comforted. Nothing to respond to from his simple sitting there. Ford is perfectly still. "like I said Syn Slavery is a nasty system. I didn't know I was a slave. Not until those who were giving me "Choices" pulled back the curtain. Beings of great power gain much by having us mortals do their bidding in our world. and twice I have fallen victim to those who promised to bring me wish fulfillment but who were actually working to drive their own agenda." Pausing to make sure she does not say the wrong thing. "I was not beaten like you were but the choices that I have made were often to avoid death itself. No my slavery was one that was in my head. Beings that play with the mind. I assume your dreams are haunted by events of your past. My dreams are sometimes haunted by monsters that think they have power over me. Again, Slavery can take many forms ours are different but have similar results. “Pointing at a small tear drop tattoo in the corner of her eye. "This is my current chain the reminds me there are still those who want to control me” She leans back, rocking on the hind legs of the chair. Her eyes glance momentarily to the small tattoo at the corner of Roya’s eye. There is a silence the fills the space between them all as she processes her words and also Ford’s. “Don’t think I haven’t heard your words. I hear them loud and clear. Though things take time. There is still much for me to understand about who I really am.” She looks over to Ford. “What I want to be…” Her expression changes, maybe its because she’s rather intoxicated or that their conversation hit home but for a moment there is a small attempt of a smile. With a big toothy smile Roya meets Syn's eyes. "Its taken me a long time to even get to the place where I am. I completely understand. but while were on the subject I had some to think. " moving her chair to speak to both Ford and Syn now. "I find it hard to believe that one who deals with my past masters suddenly appears by coincidence with a situation that I refuse to turn a blind eye to." The screetching of the chair as Roya slides closer to them both echoes through the empty tavern. Syn glances to Roya then to Ford, then back to Roya. "...what are you talking about? Who were your past masters? And this situation you speak of..." Lifting her hand palm up Roya creates the image of a raven head "Oh that would be Ms.Stone. I'd recognize the Raven Queens trade mark familiar anywhere." Rather amused by the small magical image of the Raven she laughs slightly. "...The Raven Queen." Syn pokes the image with her finger and it simply goes through the illusion. "Nuru." She says as she continues to wave her hand in and out of the illusion. "Is the name of her Raven. She doesn't talk about it very much but I also wouldn't be surprised if it's connected given the weird coincidences that are already unfolding." Roya feeling the mood getting lighter takes the hint that maybe she let Syn process all free advice she has been given. letting out a small giggle as the image ripples with Syn's contact. "Yeah, though I have pretty much given up trying to hide from those who want to find me. For the moment I seem more valuable alive so they seem to be keeping there distance, watching from the shadows." Rolling at eyes at the intense interest Syn is giving to the Illusion she looks at her as the raven head disappears. "And you think Alexa is part of that because of her familiar?" Her hand falls back to her lap and she continues to balance on the hind legs of the chair. "And why the Raven Queen? Details Roya! DETAILS!" She rolls back further almost making the chair give out from underneath her. The chair falls forward once more and Syn stares curiously. "Fine Fine If you want details. Well I used to have a Raven just like Nuru. Her name was Bat. She was a dark purple Raven ." Looking down at her at her all purple outfit she blushes a bit. "Look I know what I like. I was under her service for years. She was the one who sparked my magical ability.Though I am grateful for that fact. It does not excuse the things that happened afterwards. See I was more or less tricked into a pact with the Raven Queen. I was kidnapped as a small child, Barely 6 months according to the scroll records."Cupping her Hands together She projects and image of a heart the shifts into to scroll ends. "I was raised by my kidnappers an organization of wizards and warlocks know as the The Hearts of the Scroll . Trained in the methods of magic yet no matter what did I could not cast a single spell. This fact was constantly brought up by my mentor and caretaker Allison. She was an agent of the raven queen at the time as was trying to pay off debts. I was the perfect student and she put enough pressure on me that when I was 7 I finally caved and begged Allison to let me join her." she lets her drop and Casting her head down for a second before raising it again she blushes again "Yeah not the best life choice you can make. begging a manipulative mentor to be forced into a life of service." She pause for a bit to catch her breath and let Syn speak. A million words come flying at her as Roya explains her story. As she pauses to breathe, Syn takes the moment to process all the information that just got thrown at her. "That definitely hits the details request." She smirks. "These Heart of the Scrolls, what exactly do they do? I mean obviously practice magic and teach others but why? What purpose?" "The 'Hearts' as they are know locally are what I like to call magic zealots. The pledge there lives serve for the greater good. but somehow over the years that translated into kidnapping children to train from a young age" Shrugging "I was never fully briefed on there Mission. I think at the end of the day they just wanted some justification for the risks they were taking with magic. forming several pacts, unnaturally awaking those with the born with magical talent and whatnot." Syn nods her head. At this point the booze has really kicked in and the sway of the room gets worse. She leans in super close to Roya, red eyes staring into hers. "And this...mentor of yours, Alllllllllllllllison...is she alive?" "Uh...no." Casting head do once again "When I decided I was done with... The Raven Queen and her .... Agenda I ran away. Thinking if I got far enough away I could be free of her influence. I was about 14 at the time. Along my travels as a run away I met a young Kolbald by the name of whiseltooth. She was also a run away from her clan.you see her clan had recently killed a group of orc and there was only one survivor. A small orc child. She refused to kill the child and instead ran off with orphan." Making an inverted dome with one of her hands she shows an image of a bright red lizard woman and with the other a small Orc baby. Continuing "whisletooth and I became fast friends and moved from city to city. But of course Allison eventually hunted me down as she was ordered to do. By this time I had be gone for a year." Roya takes a long sip from her canteen looking around the room. "are you bored yet? " Syn holds her head up as she props her elbows on the top of her knees leaning in to weirdly stare as she tells of her story. "Bored?!" She leans way back into her chair, tipping it the legs once more. "No but you seem uncomfortable telling me this story. Should I stop asking questions?" Her eyes shift to Ford. "Should I stop asking?" Her eyes return to Roya. "Nope! One more question. The end of this story...Did Allison do something to you? Because you seem rather afraid of Alexa based souly because she follows the Raven Queen." Ford participates in this conversation by placing each palm of his hands upwards and away from him. His shoulders lift up and then down in a shrug. ¯\(- -)/¯ As Ford shrugs in participation, another empty bottle is thrown at him, shattering across the side of his metallic bucket head. "God damnit. What did I tell you, Ford ?" shouts a voice from the tavern entrance as 2 feet and 7 inches of angry Devil Panda walk through the door.
"I was very clear. DON'T let the overgrown Kobold and 'Daddy's Little Devil' drink all the booze," he states, half mockingly, half mad, as he gestures over to a passed out Kravor who had taken the time to drag the poor man out from under the counter, only to end up drinking himself into a drunken slumber with a massive draconic arm still wrapped around the whimpering man's shoulders, pinning him to the wooden countertop. Apparently the new liver really did mess with his tolerance. Ford responds in kind, "One moment Trash, checking for the people that cared about that." He pauses. And its annoyingly hard to tell if he is thinking, being sarcastic, or being genuine. "Results are in. Zero people. Where in Avernus have you been, anyway?" A long involuntary sigh comes out of Roya mouth. Then Whispering to Syn" We will continue story time later. Good to leave things be for now anyway." “Oh, ya know. Unlike the rest of you drunken idiots, I figured a giant fuck off explosion of kobold ashes would attract some attention.” He begins, kicking his way through the empty bottles on the floor to see if any have been neglected.
“For the record, we’re in Nexus. Well. A part of Nexus. This section of the city has been turned into some kinda prison. A prison that we happily walked into. This place is locked down tighter than,” he pauses to count on his fingers. “At least three of the Nine Hell’s. These pompous fuckers don’t seem all that happy with us right now.” He continues, giving off some useful information. Syn's face drops with a slight dissapointment as the story never finished but she nods and turns to look at Trash. "They're elves, when are they actually happy?" She laughs tipping the chair back and forth as she grins drunkingly. "It's fiiiiiiiine...Tr...Trash? They need us for the gate, they won't do...SHIT! Ah..haha." Hiccup. Ford doesn't shift his head from being settled on Syn. "Do that again, but really emphasize the 'Tra' sound at first. Then draw out the 'sh' like a growling hiss. Thats the proper way to say his name. He loves it." There is a hiss from a released valve on the warforged's arm, "If the giant magical fight for the pathetic dragonborn's soul wasn't drawing enough attention, an explosion was just the finale to it. We knew we were in Nexus, Alexa told us. So." A pause after he is done his normal Fordisms, "What did you steal and is it any good?" "T-TRAAAAAA...shhhhhhhhhh" She grins at Ford before looking over to Trash. "He has a point ya know. We did tell you where we were going. Though... Still don't know why the elves here are so fascinated by what's inside the gate. Judging from their faces, people coming back is kinda rare." Hiccup. The rough pad of a glaring trash panda’s paw taps the creaking floorboards as fiery amber eyes meet a pair of emotionless red rubies. “Don’t forget. I’m the one that does your repairs.”
With a toothy grin, Trash relents. “Alright yeah, i stole a bunch of shit. But honestly, this place is pretty barebones, so most of it was just for the hell of it.”
Scampering over to Ford’s boot, Trash jumps up onto his knee and climbs his way up to the warforged’s shoulder where he hangs his bag on the array of antlers in order to rummage through today’s loot. “Let’s see here. I got some silver coins, a few left boots, and some elven douche’s shoulder cape. Oh I also took his hair gel. And his shampoo. And really just every form of cleaning agent from his house. Hehe. He. Hehahaheha.” The hysterical laughter continues for a while as Trash begins to imagine the angry elven man waking up with the worst of bed heads with no way of fixing it.
As the laughter dies out, Trash clears his throat and continues. Like a professional. “Anyways. I got few glass bottles for myself since I was running low. Ford, I got some more supplies to repair you up. And Roya.....”
Staring into the bag, he pauses before once more breaking into laughter. “I- hehahahea. I almos- hehaheha. I almost forgot!” Pulling out a beautifully designed elven dress, Trash tosses it to Roya. “That elven fucker had a hidden closet in his house with like a hundred dresses hidden in it. He’s only got one bed in the house, sooooooooo ...... hahahahehaha” and with that Trash begins to hang off of Ford’s antlers from his feet as he gleefully screams over an elven mans kinks. "Elven douche..Elven douche..mhm there's only one that comes to mind." She joins in the laughter as Trash mentions the stolen gel, and shampoo. Then as he tosses a frilly dress to Roya she just looses it, the chair gives way out underneath her and she falls to the floor in hysterics. "No no no no it can't be. Hahaha, how did you manage to sneak in there? Listen he's kinda an asshole. You're lucky he didn't catch you." Grabbing the dress in one hand and grabbing Syn's forearm with the other she pulls Syn off the ground. once Syn is up Roya places her back in her seat. "Syn what are you talking about? Who did this dress come from" Turning to Trash with hands on hips "you know we were have quiet story time in here!" Then looking at the dress she smiles a bit "Thanks for the gift though." Raising an eyebrow "Ill be sure to wear this the next time I'm invited to a ball." Through a continued laughter, Trash manages to get out,” I -hehahehaha. I saw- hehaha. Phew. Okay. I saw him throw a bottle at an alley cat. Dick move, right ? So, I did what anyone would. I followed him home, knocked him out, and fucked with all his shit.” A blunt statement for a series of blunt actions. Seems about right.
Turning to Roya, Trash gives a toothy grin. “Yeah, well ya know. It felt very ..... you.” Looking at the dress again Roya blushes. It truly was a beautiful gown. The silk was a very high quality. something she hadn't out of her hands for quite a while. Looking back at Trash "it's absolutely beautiful so I'll just take that as a compliment" smiling she takes the garment and folds it neatly and places it in a side pocket of her pack. "So Trash what are we gonna do when he come come looking for his things. Hoping to be gone by then?" At that, Trash giggles, though he stops himself from erupting in laughter like before. “You think I let him see me ? Nah, he’s gonna be confused as all Avernus once he wakes up.”
After a moment of thought, he snickers once more. “Plus, even if he saw me. What’s he gonna do ? Tell the guards I took his dress ? And that he’s got a closet full of them back home ?” Another eruption of laughter occurs. Standing back up Roya looks down at the little mammal."Fair enough" she says shrugging. Looking around the room "I think we all might need a bit of a rest though after drinking, telling stories and...." Looking back at trash "....dressnapping. How about we set up somewhere that we can relax then regroup to figure out whats next for all of us." "And to that end where has Ms.Stone and the small gnome gone off to" She rolls her head around in a circle, eyes closed. "Alexa is with Clyde and Alcina. They have food...mhm...we should go. All of us go and eat and sleep and figure this out when the tavern isn't spinning..." As yet another new "friend" passes out in a drunken stupor, Trash turns towards the open tavern door. "Alright, well. Gifts were given. Laughs were had." Turning back to give a little bow before leaving, "With that, your beloved Captain is gonna find some nice trees and pass the fuck out." Looking over to Syn Roya doubts she can lift syn by herself. She takes her bed roll and sheet from her bag and sets it in the floor of the Bar next to Syn. Tapping Syn on the shoulder " Hey, Syn I think it's time to rest. You can sleep on my bedroll." Pointing down she just needs to drop to the floor and lay down. Then leaving syn Roya goes to Ford. Whispering "I'm sorry I chastised you Ford. I just didn't want things to get more heated." Bowing her head "let's just rest here for a bit. The other will be able to find us when they're ready. Are you feeling okay? Anything else I can do before I set up my bed?" Looking back up at Ford Roya has dark circles underneath her eyes but she can still manages a smile "Nothing that can't wait," Ford replies after a long stretch of silence and watching. "A time for talking, a time for fighting, and a time for resting. Rest." A slight nod of his helmet-like head. "Your empathy is going to be needed in the upcoming days. Mine too." As usual, its easy for him to keep watch. He doesn't sleep anyway. Roya reaches out and places her hand on Fords metal chest. "You have a good soul Ford and I know you want the best for her. Don't worry we will keep her safe" then Leaning down she picks up a waiting Tinyfang off the ground and handing him to Ford " You two keep eachother company while we rest" smiling she turns away and helps a struggling Syn into the bedroll. After making sure she is tucked in Roya moves to her sheet and is asleep as soon as her head finds the pillow.