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RESPITE BARRACKS CELLS - AFTERNOON
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Louma lands outside the barracks, breathing a bit heavily for flying in her travel armor, but smiling through the mild exhaustion. She'd just been to the West gatehouse, informing the commandant of the returning troupe of guards and rescued citizens, and was now intent on getting a headstart on her reports on the news, excited enough that she'd not thought to head home and change. Slithering into the barracks, she nods to the guard on duty, slowing en route to her office as she eyes a doorway on the opposite side of the foyer. With a curious grunt and a small smirk to herself, Louma detours to the door, down a flight of stairs and through the facility until she enters a wider hall. Through one more set of doors that are flanked by two guards, the armored captain enters Respite's rather oversized jail, considering only two of ten cells are occupied. She slithers up to one containing a certain saurian prisoner, still wearing her expression-concealing helm, remaining a few feet away from the bars as she starts to settle in place. "Comfortable?"
Aerdrid sits on the cot that acts as one of just a few pieces of furniture that furnish the rather spartan cell, looking somehow noble(ish) in his lightweight combat outfit, even though the material is starting to show signs of tattering and wear from constant use for the past few weeks. Upon hearing someone moving into view of the cell bars, he angles his long, narrow head up and fixes the soldier with a steely glare. Moments later, that glare turns a bit more venomous when he realizes who exactly it is that's paying him a visit. {What does it matter to you, blasphemer? Gloat and be done with it, or just leave me be.}
Louma sighs under her helm, unclasping it and flipping the pad at the back that holds it in place to the side. She slides it forward off her face, holding the pointed armor piece under her arm as she shakes her head. "I do understand {blasphemer}, but we'll never get anywhere if you don't speak Common." She'd kept the helm on to get her grin under control, giving the prisoner a flat look.
Aerdrid sniffs in derision as he fixes his eyes on Louma, staring at one, and then the other. "Why should I speak in Trade Common when conversing with a child of Yzzayt?" He mutters quietly, still in Common, "...Even if said child is playing the fool..."
Louma shakes her head slightly again. "You know, I was ignorant until a short while ago. And then exiled. And then hunted, specifically by you and yours. It was an exciting time."
Aerdrid stays quiet for a couple of seconds, then nods, a short, slight jerk of his head. "Yes, and your defenders killed my kin, but chose to spare me. And now, I sit here, behind bars of metal, stuck underground in a shell of stone. The same fate you would have had after your brazen and ill-informed tirade against the Whisperer." He narrows his eyes, "Before that, you had your freedom and your dignity while living among the Saurs in the Prominence. Things denied me despite the similarity of our predicaments."
Louma hums, tilting her head slightly. "True, but I would rather risk my life fleeing a tyrant than to unwillingly live under one." She tilts her head the other way with a frown. "I was also brought to the village a prisoner like you, the difference being I wasn't chasing and killing citizens of the Prominence when I was captured. You could be free, if your loyalty to Nyzai and the Whisperer weren't threats to folks in Respite."
Aerdrid clicks his jaw in annoyance. "You claim land that was never yours to begin with. We drive you out like your kind drive poachers out of hunting grounds." He's certainly been listening closely to conversations with the jail guards, even if their chatter is mostly pointless drivel anyway, "My loyalty is to my clan and kin. Nyzai is kin, but is also one of the Chosen of Yzzayt. I have no opinion of Whisperer Xeilrzus, but he holds the position, and it is the position you insulted most gravely."
Louma hums, adjusting herself a bit as the armor isn't terribly comfortable to rest in for long periods. "Perhaps. There were no settlements here when this town was founded, and nobody approached before now. Well, nobody from the Prominence. There seems to be an amphibian village in a swamp somewhere South of here, and they have opted for favorable trade with us. That could be the relationship between your people and ours, as well." She shrugs, "If Xeilzrus sees reason, anyways. I do believe you'll need to reconsider some of your loyalties, in any case."
Aerdrid lets out another sniff of derision. "We know of the waterfolk, as well as the ocean dwellers, as that is how I can converse with you in a tongue you're more familiar with. They, however, know better than the encroach upon lands blessed by Yzzayt." He narrows his eyes a bit again, "Give me a reason as to why I should reconsider my loyalties as readily as you, child of Yzzayt."
Louma sighs, shrugging. "Again, we had no way to know this land was claimed, as none had settled it or made us aware before opting for bloodshed." She then straightens up, a small smile playing at the edges of her bill. "But that is no matter, it will be resolved one way or another soon enough. I do come with news for you, after all. If you would have it."
Aerdrid sits up a little straighter, a small smile of his own playing across his face, feeling confident that his prayers over the past few weeks are on the verge of coming to fruition. "What news is this, then?"
Louma considers for a brief moment, nodding. "Those under Dyvrisse in the Abyss have been freed."
Aerdrid seems perhaps a little perturbed, but rather unbothered by that bit of news. "Freed, hm? Dyvrisse, ever the inscrutable one... Not even Nyzai could figure out what she's thinking most of the time. No matter."
Louma nods, "And on their way home. Apparently, Usid turned on the Whisperer, as he and his clan helped in the rescue..."
Aerdrid furrows his brow a bit, then shakes his head. "The small ones, those raptors. Scavengers, and fighters, all. Skittish, and often happy to take any opportunity no matter what. I can't say I'm surprised."
Louma nods again, slower this time as the hints of her smile fade. "Then you probably wont be surprised to know their betrayal started before that, and resulted in Nyzai's death."
Aerdrid shakes his head again. "No, I'm not surpri--" He comes up short for a moment, then snaps his gaze up to Louma, quick and bird-like, "What... did you just say...?"
Louma bows her head slightly, closing her eyes for a moment before clarifying. "Nyzai fell during battle, by her own blade from all accounts. Apparently, Usid held his clan back from helping her and hers during an ambush." She looks back up at Aerdrid. "She could have fled and taken your kin from the jaws of death, but didn't."
Aerdrid 's hand, which had until that point been hanging relatively loosely against his knee, slowly clenches into a fist. "We are not cowards, turning tail in combat unless ordered to do so." He squints at Louma with a flinty gaze, "For Nyzai to have used her own knife upon herself, she had to have been grounded. If she was grounded, then many, many others were as well, as she often fought at the front with us." He jerks his jaw a bit, prompting Louma, "Tell me. She would not have done that without a good reason. Why did she do that? What forced her hand?"
Louma hums, shaking her head. "There were no prisoners so perhaps she was avoiding your fate. Nobody had the chance to ask, after all."
Aerdrid shakes his head as he adjusts his weight on the cot a bit. "She can't say, this is true, but unless you all operate differently, you must have combat reports." He pauses to let that little knowledge tidbit sink in, "Or are your guards incompetent at logging details?"
Louma: "The reports have not been worked through, I've only just returned with them, and it is my duty to organize and fulfill them. If you do want to know more, I'd be happy to come back to you with more information later."
Aerdrid doesn't indicate one way or another that he cares if Louma comes back or not. "If I had to guess, it was probably a poison administered by one of your own. No wonder Usid joined your side, cowardly tactics like that."
Louma smirks, nodding. "Oh, certainly could be. I know one of our own uses poison on her blade. Considering she'd fit comfortably within your beak, I don't blame her for wanting such an edge. Considering a stiff wind could ground the lady, I'd even say she's quite courageous for the risk."
Aerdrid scoffs. "Either extraordinarily brave, or extraordinarily foolish, then. If she is as small as you say, I can't fault her for wanting an edge, at least." He shakes his head, "We do not surrender unless we absolutely must, or are else forced to do so as with your guard nearly choking me to death. Nyzai decided to finish things on her terms, than to let a poison give her a slow, torturous end."
Louma grunts, dropping her smirk. "We weren't interested in killing all of you. Or any, if possible. Even now, our people are heading for the Prominence to try to talk Xeilzrus down. I doubt they will, but what happens from that point is up to them." She pauses for a moment, considering Aerdrid. "So what will you do once this is all over?"
Aerdrid continues to stare rather hard at Louma. "They must still contend with Xeilrzus' elite guard. Be prepared for more graves to dig." He scoffs again and looks aside, "As for me, kill me or release me. What difference does it make? My clan is likely scattered, the Prominence will probably be in shambles after you and yours get through with it, and without a Whisperer the clans will likely just start fighting each other again."
Louma sighs, shaking her head sadly. "Then you'll all need to find a leader other than a Whisperer. We may help, if it's wanted, but the root of the attacks on our people need to be stopped. You may see us as invaders, and perhaps we are, unintentionally. I just hope at the end of this, lines can be drawn and we can at least remain neutral."
Aerdrid snaps his head back to Louma. "Were it so easy. The Whisperer is not just a monarch or any other leader like you and yours subject yourselves to. They speak for a god, blasphemer. The years and decades with a Whisperer are always marked by prosperity for our kind, the 'Saurs', as you say. You rob us of our prosperity, then offer a hand in assistance for troubles of your own doing."
Louma tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at Aerdrid. "I am more familiar with the leadership of a god. My own home people were led by such prosperity and unity, the Red King and his predecessors. His great grandfather was instrumental in bringing peace among the archipelago, working with other leaders at dividing the islands evenly among the peoples, giving each plenty based on what they needed most. The Red King himself was... Wretched. Disagreeable, started a war but the snakes followed all too blindly because coatls are seen as deities. That faith led to thousands of bodies, until the Red King himself lay dead." She relents her glare, shaking her head. "We do not want to come anywhere near such wanton bloodshed here. If that means your village loses it's way briefly, then so be it. It means your children will live to see the next harvest."
Aerdrid grunts in displeasure as he slowly stands up, now getting a bit sick of Louma gazing down at him like some sort of superior would. He doesn't make any moves other than to stand, however, though his hands are clenched into fists. "The Saurs are hardly unified without a Whisperer. The Prominence will not 'briefly' lose its way. Our children will more likely wind up becoming the hunted of other clans over petty disputes that the Whisperer keeps tamped down." He glares at Louma, "You claim similarity, yet by your very actions you doom us to worse."
Louma taps her fingers on her armor for a moment as Aerdrid speaks. "You claim we are dooming your people. You do not seem to understand, your people should have approached this settlement decades ago, demanded they leave your sacred lands. Your people should have approached before the walls were built. Before more folks settled. You should have attacked when the people here were weak and few in number. Before we had families and homes to defend. You instead waited until your new Whisperer told you to move. You waited until we were rooted and strong and unwilling to bend to the breeze. Now we snap back rather than break, but you complain. If we wanted, we could have a force here in a week that would raze your village to ash in hours. Xeilrzus started all of this by spilling our blood rather than bending our ear, but we will end it by the less destructive option." She turns away, the fury she'd been feeling through the conversation bubbling under her words the longer she speaks, though she manages to refrain from an outburst. She slithers towards the door to the hall, setting a hand on the door, but pausing. "Pray to Yzzayt that it's possible, brother. I know I will be. But I wont let arrows stall my spear a third time."
Aerdrid lets Louma speak without interruption, since she's thus far been offering the same courtesy to him. Once she's done, however... "Your people came wandering to the west decades ago. We took care of them when they were on the verge of death from the harsh Expanse, because they were fools who mistimed the seasons, thinking it as mild as the seasons they're used to. We then sent them on their way again when they recovered, and never heard from them after that. You should have known of us by that point." He shakes his head and flings a hand up as he walks over to the other end of the cell to lean against the wall with crossed arms, "But what does it matter? What's done is done. If you're going to kill us, then kill us rather than force us to bend the knee to the undeserving."
Louma pauses briefly at the information presented, humming to herself as she starts to push the door open. "Rest well, Aerdrid. Only Xeilzrus can define what happens to your people at this point." She turns, slithering out of the cell block and turning her way through the halls again until she's in the foyer, heading for her office. Rather than her reports, though, Louma has other priorities. She sheds some of her tail armor as she wonders how deep the archives go into the history of Respite.
Aerdrid scowls a bit as he moves forward to the cell door, watching as Louma departs. He reverts to the Saur common language as he mutters to himself again. {Damned proud creature... she'd give Nyzai a good bit of competition in arrogance... if Nyzai was still alive.} He sighs quietly and steps back to his cot, where he sits back down rather heavily. A few seconds pass in silence before he shuts his eyes and begins a silent prayer for his fallen kin, as well as a plea to Yzzayt that things resolve favorably.