The newcomer Ozan walks the road to Jastrey, with a crudly drawn map in hand. He has a shovel over one shoulder, and a bag hangs from it. Finding the graveyard, the ixifar begins stumbling around in the dark, waving a lantern around, and knocking afew of the older tombstones over in the process.
Ozan, one boot resting on a tombstone, tilting it backwards so we could read the name, was startled by the sudden sound. When he turns to face the voice, and thusly removes his boot, the tombstone falls flat, with a loud thump. Flinching, the Ixifar speaks, "Momma Tovanda alvay varned uz from giving our names to voice in ze dark." Ozan swings his lanter towards the the sound, "Come into ze light, zo ve may zpeak as normal folk."
Binx's owlish eyes followed the feathered oaf's movements until he raised his lantern. She recoiled slightly, drawing back into the safety and darkness of her hood, raising a pale hand to further protect her delicate night vision.
"By Hexadus, put that damned thing out." She snapped. Despite her irritability she stepped forward, head lowered. Even though her face was completely hidden, it was obvious from the lightly accented voice and small frame that he was facing an Uordeq woman. She would not speak again until he at least lowered his light source, allowing the crickets and other night-dwelling creatures to fill the silence that fell between them.
"Ah, It is known to me zat vor kind does not like ze light. vy apologies." Ozan lowers the lantern, and almost completely shutters it. Ozan's dark eyes widen at the mention of Hexadus, "Vu vould to vell to diztance vorself from zat immortal. The Traveler and her, Zey do not get along...." Ozan sets the lantern down, and pulls his bastard sword from its sheath across his lower back, and grips it tightly, willing his rage and shame into the blade, his magic causing the blade to glow faintly red. "I came zearching for ze grave of Zvey, nothing more."
The woman pulled the hood of her cloak down when the light no longer threatened her senses. This only revealed the fringe of crimson hair, slender neck, and the dark-ringed yellow eyes that glowered unblinkingly at Ozan- the mask beneath still hiding most of her features.
She was going to make some snide remark about advising someone on their beliefs upon first meeting them, but the thought was lost when he mentioned Zwey's grave. She arched a thin brow, this being the first time the news had reached her. Come to think of it, she had not seen the lumbering angori since before the 'pilgrims' had started trickling into Jastrey. Her gaze drifted to his blade, the red light not so offensive to her. She actually seemed thoroughly unimpressed.
"Zwey is dead?" she asked flatly, not taking her eyes from his blade.
Her hand returned to rest on her belt, pushing back the heavy suede and revealing the feminine curve of her hip, but also the slight glint of treated leather armor around her waist as well as the dark adamant scales resting on her shoulders. She stood before him in the way women do when they want to make their dissaproval clear. "He was an Angori, the leader of the Gallimaufry, and a decent fighter." She answered simply, eyeing the remains. Not that she would admit it to this newcomer, but she remembered Zwey's first night in Jastrey more than she cared to admit.
Ozan's arm, the one holding the horn, tenses for a moment, and he looks to it strangly. "Zis horn, its causing me zome pain by touching it." Ozan quickly puts it back in his the pouch at his waist. Refocusing on the Urodeq, "Anyvays, vhere can I find hiz body? I am to burn it, zo he may rest eternally. Tellz me zis, and I vill leave"
"Verpissen, huhn..." the woman before him practically growled, her voice dangerously soft as she digressed to her native tongue. Her pupils shrank ever so slightly, eyes filled with anger and the words she wasn't screaming. The Uordeq was in rare form, somehow without her usual apathy.
"I'll take zat az a yes!' The ixifar walks towards the Urodeq, but trips and crack two more tombstones stumbling to catch himself. "Come! Perhaps your avininty for graveyards can help me find Zvey" It Ixifar repacks his shovel, and makes his way out of the graveyard.
Something between a snicker and a snarl sounded from behind her mask as he stumbled, a strange sound for such a small creature. Binx crossed her arms, yellow eyes glinting with malice as he turned his back on her. She did not move but merely stood there inspecting his armor carefully.
A quiet, eerie voice came from behind Binx as the night unfolded around Akon's form, like a shadow itself coming forth from a mistlike encompassment. Her tone was hinting of warning and had clear intonations of protectiveness. "You'd be wise to not aggitate my kinsman, Ixifar." Akon's figure fully formed as she finished her sentance, red eyes radiating, and her cowl drawn back to rest over her shoulders. Arms folded, and relaxed, though her tone was clear enough to warn the newcomer to be on his guard and respectful.
Her eyes flickered over the destroyed and battered tombstones, and her gaze took on a distinctive additional flair of annoyance and disapproval.
"Kinsman? Zo vu mean Kinsvoman? Or do ze Urodeq males alzo have ze buztynezz?" Ozan stops in his tracks, turning to face the new voice. His Green, Red, and Gold sashes catch what little light there is, and the symbol on his pauldrons looks alot like the one that was on Zwey's breastplate. "I did not mean to agitate, vut, I am tall, vu zee, and ze tombstonez, zey are short, and it iz dark." says the Ixifar with a glint in his black eyes.
Caught somewhere between her disgust at being acknowledged in such a way by the idiotic Ixifar, and being incredulous at just how ignorant he seemed, Binx settled for a bitter silence. She appeared indifferent to Akon's presence, not at all surprised at the warlock's materialization. She did not bother to even spare the other Uordeq a glance of acknowledgement, her heated gaze locked onto the man who had already made the mistake of presenting his back to her.
Akon's eyes didn't shift in her realization of who the man was. She merely stood crossarmed. "Did your death only make you more the fool, Zwey Gurka? In your passing, your ancestors spoke that you must change for you were weak...and I agree, but your current actions beg the question if the the change was for the better."
Binx resisted the urge to look at Akon as she made the accusation, eyeing the nuisance more closely. It was true that he wore similar garb to Zwey's but that was hardly grounds to assume this was his reincarnation. She remained silent, allowing the two talk around her.
"Your presence is known to me, Ozan, for I forsaw your coming in a vision over Zwey's ashes as he departed from this realm. Whether you were his reincarnate or not was unknown to me, but you yourself told me to look for you, and here you are...defacing our departed's monuments..." She looked a bit more dissaproving at him at the last statement, her stoic features creasing into a slight frown.
"Vell, it looks like the kind hearted Zvey zought to help me zen. He knowz Tovanda would vant those remains, and appears to have sent someone to give then to me." Ozan shakes his head, "Vut I am not hiz re-incarnation, he and I vere Brother in ze Gurkhas, in ze Hodgepodge. I hav his horn, and have been able to see into his dreams, vut, I am not he."
"Regardless." Akon's tone did not soften, but replied flatly. "If you wish to see his remains, then you shall show the proper respect to those we have chosen to lay here. There are some that have passed upon my watch of this town, and I have placed them here to rest personally. Be glad I did not have such careless disregard as you have shown here for your own befallen, less his corpse fall into the hands of one that would abuse it. Fix the damage you have done here, and show an honest display of respect for the dead of others. Then I shall reconsider if you are truly worthy to be made aware of Zwey's resting place."
Ozan shrugs, "Im just going to dig ze Brother up, burn his corpze, and zend the azhez home. We burn our dead, so they may ztay at rezt." Ozan proceeds to right the fallen tombstones, pausing and gripping each on tightly for a moment each time, muttering a quiet apology each time. -Commune Spirit- "Vay vour victories live on".
Binx's eyes narrowed in spiteful satisfaction as she watched Ozan right the stones he had overturned. It wasn't so much that he was showing respect for the dead that appeased her, it was that he had followed Akon's orders after being scolded him like petulant child. Submissive. Weak. She scrossed her arms over her chest, allowing the black suede of her cloak to engulf her thin frame again.
With her initial anger starting to wane, she began to wonder what had happened to the Angori for someone from his order to come seeking his corpse, how he had died. But of course, the stoic woman wouldn't ask.
Akon watched him with calculating eyes, not moving from her arm folded possition. As the Ixifar righted the last stone and gave his respects Akon let out a short grunt. "Mhnph....follow." Was her only words, unfolding her arms and letting them fall to rest over her hilt, walking back from the direction her form had first appeared.
"He iz filling me in, and expects me to rezpect you. Do az you zay and vhatnot. He has forgotten much of the Gurkha teachings. Tis a vonder the spirits called him home, or vatever his zpiritzpeaker reasoning iz. Fah!" Ozan stuffs the horn back into its pouch, and looks even more put out than before, his black eyes blinking continually.
Binx watched the two go without a word, making no effort to follow. Some of the tension left her shoulders as if she had sighed when they passed through the treeline that surrounded the small cemetery. Let him be someone else's problem. The woman turned her owlish eyes up to the stars as a few bats twittered overhead, presumably hunting for their next meal. Retrieving her bow, she decided it was wise for her to do the same.
"Who are you?" Hissed an aggravated female voice from the darkness behind the newcomer.
Binx stood a few paces behind the bumbling bird with a hand on her hip beneath her heavy cloak. All but her narrowed eyes were covered by some sort of black fabric or armor as she regarded him, her contempt palpable. As far as she was concerned, this unfamiliar face was trespassing in her territory. She didn't usually mind when the citizens of Jastrey traipsed through, visiting their fallen friends, but this one was new and much too loud for her tastes.