Turtle Soup (Planescape 3.5e)

Feeling the alcool gaining his head, Traore just stay sitting on the ground, listening the music of Andarin. The mix feeling of alcool, music and sight of the creatures make him relax. He closes his eyes and start to be transported by the music...

He never had the chance to hear such beautifull sound. The only moment he had listen to some music have been the war drums of the spirits against a rebelling village. The music was made to scare, not to delight the listener.

After a moment, he open his eyes and hastly looks around. He is not use to let his attention out and not being aware of what happen, even for a small moment, make him feel bad. At least, he won't get whip this time.

"You play nice, Andarin"
 
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Jurden plops down on crate and waits for his companions to decide what to do. He watches the turtle-dudes with idle interest. Nodding at the group with the clockwork child, "What do you think they're doing? ...besides praying, I mean."
 

"Mi not know. All new to mi. Mi just use to slave work, fight, gives order coming from démons and bi hit with whip. All this new. All this crazy. Not crazy. Not all..."

Traore seems to search a word, but seems unable to find it. He shift to his master language and ask to Jurden.

[SBLOCK]"How do you say strange in the common tongue?"[/SBLOCK]

He doesn't wait for the answer and continue his thought.

"Some crazy, some nice... All that, mi need to learn. First time mi see all that."
 



As her party entered the new location, and found themselves among more people drinking and eating weird sorts of delicacies, Meenah starts hearing grumbles from her stomach, adn realizes she haven't been eating for quite a long time. Unable to tell whether she can eat this kind food or not, afraid of losing her friends and of acting unpolite, she decides to stay close to Traore for the moment, but the cheese at least seems to smell good and diverts her attention a lot... Someone puts a mug in her hand, and she suspiciously test the liquid's scent first and takes a sip later ("Mah... tastes a bit like wet straw, but everyone around seems to enjoy it quite a lot."). She keeps the mug, just because if she drops it someone may interpret that as unpolite from a guest ("A guest? Am I a guest here or what else? The others seem to find themselves at home, they are so much at ease in this place..."). She has been quietly listening to her companion talking to each other, when again she finds someone has puts a cup in her other hand, this time full of cheese and green boiled leaves of something, and so the rest of the conversation between her friends vanishes in the background, covered by the now quite loud grumbling of her belly.

Lobo Lurker said:
He takes a swig of beer. "What about you Meenah, what kind of sick and twisted world do you come from?"
Click to expand...

When Meenah realizes the Ghaele is speaking to her, her face is already pathetically covered in cheese and vegetables, as she has just surrendered to her hunger. She stops and blush in shame, tries to quickly swallow a blob of half-munched food in the least umbarassing but yet far-from-feminine way, and attempts a clumsy smile at Jurden.

"I come from... well... what can I say? I don't have a name for my... world, as you call it. It's just home for me and my people, and the other people... of my world." She tries to find a better description, but doesn't find it. "My tribe is of the restless people, the travellers." Hope rises in her heart as she mentions this, hoping to notice something in Jurden's eyes that might mean the ghaele has heard of them. "It's not a sick and twisted place anyway, my home..." ("...this is so embarassing......")

"Hey I know that! I mean, what they're saying, those... turtle people. I know that language!", and suddenly feels towering-proud for such a feat of knowledge, that she takes the liberty to legitimately celebrate with another chunk of cheese...
 

Meenah translates the turtles' chant:
[sblock]
Come forth, youngest ageless one,
From crucible of births,
From womb of Sea, with gaze of Sun,
Your life-breath seeds the earths.

Come forth, eldest hatchling wyrm,
From wild space, shells, and flow,
From fires cool, with fluids firm,
Within you, new worlds grow.
[/sblock]

The clockwork child responds to Jurden with quiet certainty
They are calling a new world into existence for their race, one of the first worlds of the new Creation.

The honey-plain woman walks gracefully over to Andarin and sets a small crystal next to him. She nods at him to continue playing and steps back. The crystal slowly sprouts smoke-like tendrils that lift and move it. It dances slowly to Andarin's music, responding rapidly to changes in the music. The woman speaks in a voice nearly identical to the clockwork child's.

Please continue; you play beautifully. I am Sysente, this is Aphnan. It takes you a moment to realize that she is talking about the dancing crystal, which briefly waves at you as it capers about.

Sysente turns to the falcon-headed figure and gives him an impish look. Reluctantly, he removes his headgear, revealing a face identical to hers, as if they were identical twins in all things but their sex. He relaxes slightly, but does not step forward.

Jurden feels a twinge of familiarity:
[sblock]The man is an Angel; probably a deva of some sort, but greatly diminished, like the first bricks of a mighty temple that has yet to be built. His stern gaze meets yours and there is a moment of grim understanding and recognition between you.[/sblock]
 
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"Mi people too were traveller before they bi slave, so said mi elders..." says Traore, still in his torpor created by the alcool.

Meenah said:
"Hey I know that! I mean, what they're saying, those... turtle people. I know that language!"
Click to expand...

Traore takes a few moment to understand what she just said. "Hmmm... and what turtle saying?"
 

Jurden locks gazes with the man and slowly nods. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that something important was happening here. If you don't mind, I'll just bear witness to what I see here."

He turns to Sysente. "Something tells me that you three about to go on some sort of journey, physical or metaphoric. My name is Jurden-Quorr." He offers his hand in turn to all three (four) of them. "Now you know me. Should you ever need to summon me, please do so."

"So Sysente..." the ghaele nods at the crystal, "...and Aphnon, what sort of world will this be? A prime world?"
 

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