Multiverse Crisis MUSH - User contributions [en]

1030/A Stoic In The Mud

2014-12-14T04:12:02Z

Blondesamurai: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/12/02 |Location=A Grassland |Synopsis=Taro and Ineryon's paths cross once again, this time on a muddy riverbank and under threat of a flash fl..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/12/02
|Location=A Grassland
|Synopsis=Taro and Ineryon's paths cross once again, this time on a muddy riverbank and under threat of a flash flood.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=399, 615
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     In the perpetual struggle of Machine versus Nature, at this specific moment Nature has the upper hand.     An unusually strong storm in the mountains in the distance has caused a flash flood in the foothills below. Normally mild, shallow streams have been glutted with the runoff to overflow their banks, creating a muddy quagmire in one of the gentle valleys.     Normally Taro would not care about trifling things such as changing weather, except that his jeep is now hubcap-deep in the mud caused by all of the above. How irritating. He did at least have the good sense to not try spinning out the wheels, as that would have only gotten it stuck further. Instead, he's walked a short distance away from mud, overflown stream, and vehicle to a stand of trees. There's he's busy snapping small branches from a few of the closest trees. He's in a body-conforming black shirt, his black trousers tucked into boots - he shed his cassock while doing this manual labor (it's folded as neatly as possible over a tree limb so that the muddy hem can dry), though his oval cabochon of a holy symbol remains dangling around his neck as he works. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon Valos was adept at keeping tabs on some of the meteorological conditions of various parts of the Multiverse, which meant that he'd be inclined to trek around in a fruitful fashion, tapping into the pools and waterholes created by rainy seasons, in order to procure a few fish dinners for himself! One of his primary ambitions in life was to sample different types of seafood, and the lungfish had existed since the time of the dinosaurs, maybe even back in the Triassic when they first emerged. When did they come out of the ground? Typically when small puddles amassed so that they could revive from their peculiar form of hibernation that lasted for months, wherein they'd buried themselves underground.      Surely not the prettiest of things, to most eyes of humankind, Baron Valos thrived in a realm where half of the dark elves resembled Astos, who was considered the ideal model of aesthetic perfection... complete with tongue-dangling from upper orifice, and posture worse than a sufferer of extreme osteoporosis; perhaps fortuitously for those who were 'graced' by Ineryon's presence, he didn't keep his oral appendage hanging out all day long, allowing saliva to dribble continuously! By the same token, at seven and a half feet, eye-contact rarely ensued, alas.... would his indifferent demeanor have offered much solace to one seeking attention, if the drow in question barely showed much facial emotion, whether or not he did in fact have feelings under a seemingly empty exterior?      The Valosian clan-member, in his usual way, kept to drier patches by hovering from boulder to boulder by locking onto his stone-made armor, which could be manipulated through geokinetic-like powers. If the armor rose, so did its occupant! Eventually, he reached the jeep, confiscating it momentarily as footing, before he could move on to the next rocky pedestal. He had no qualms about the fact that he was standing right on the hood of the vehicle, and had in effect, put a dent in it thanks to his massive poundage-- a seven foot body comprised of lean-muscle combined with a suit of fossil was not what the hood of a jeep was meant to suffer! 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     The jeep, while an inanimate thing, appears to have objections to being tred upon so rudely. As its hood begins to sag, it begins to emit an ear-piercing ululating wail.     * WhoooOOP WhoooOOOP WHoooOOOP *     Taro's head snaps up, turning in the direction of his temporarily abandoned vehicle. With a mutter of a curse that's probably unbefitting of his station and knife still in hand, he heads back in that direction, leaving the grove of trees at a jog. He's doing nothing whatsoever to disguise his approach, and it may be fair to say he is being especially clear that he is not disguising his approach. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      When the hood buckles, Ineryon gazes downwards at the thing, but thinks nary of import about the matter of leaving an impression in the panel of metal. The resounding echo of the alarm shrieks and causes the dark elf to shudder a touch. A mite unnerved by the sudden arousal of this irritating sound, the dark elf, having no knowledge of who it belonged to, as well as no interest to bother trying to find out, takes the liberty to lock onto the device inside the vehicle that generates the most vibration. On the other hand, his acuity is decentralized via the sounds that throw-off his accuracy, thanks to his weakness to many types of loud sounds.      When the metal hood caved in, thankfully, those sounds didn't really cause the dark elf much distress, seeing that the powers of drow are grounded primarily in electromagnetism, metal-bending, and the like. On the other hand, some of them were gangly, and physically weak to melee weapons; Baron Valos, even so, wasn't so skinny and misshapen, ergo, he assumed no additional damage from metallic blades than anyone else, really. Nevertheless, with his proficiency in the aiming department being marginalized, he couldn't transfix his attentions to the exact object, resulting in a need for a more 'broad' target.      About one-third of the jeep practically implodes as a strange force treats the automobile as would a trash-compactor, compressing things together until the unusual sounds desisted. Rubbing his forehead, Baron Valos now had a headache, yet, from the corner of his eye he could make out Taro's approach, with knife in hand. He'd need a few seconds to collect himself, if circumstances deemed that melee with the robed-figure were imminent... 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Currently disrobed - in his haste, he left his cassock where it was hanging to dry - but yes, still clothed and with a throwing knife in hand. Its blade has been dulled by being pressed into service as a bush knife, but still it may be of use if so needed.     * WHoooOOOP WHooo---SHRIEK-Crrrrrrrunch *     The jeep's anti-theft deterrent goes silent. Along with its electrical system and engine.     Taro arrives just in time to see the aftereffects of such, finding the the back two thirds of the vehicle somewhat misshapen but still recognizable, but the front and arguably most important third sreshly compacted. His brow furrows deeply, and his lips curl back just enough to show a flash of teeth. "I was using that." Restrained, but clearly unhappy tones in his voice. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      It was true that Taro wasn't robed, yet, Ineryon could hardly make the distinction with his ears ringing from that infernal siren that had sent a shock through his system, equal to what one single adult human might feel if they had touched an electric-eel(OOC: a misnomer, since electric-eels are actually fish).      Baron Valos could make out that there was a person and a cassock within one area, and a car right beneath him, as well as a metal knife.... but like an inebriated man who might be akin to seeing double, some things blended together, and Ineryon needed a few extra moments to actually determine that the priestly one was not wearing the robe, even if he /was/ still in black attire. Reclaiming composure, the drow realizes Taro isn't at the breaking-point where he's about to attack, but whom is still armed with a blade and looking displeased, Lord Valos scratches his head, "Hmm... Were you, from all the way over there?..." He points in the 'general' direction where he sensed Taro a minute prior, since his perception had been discombobulated by the alarm.      Ineryon shrugs, and hovers over to yet another boulder and bows to Taro, "I am done using it, so, you may now resume your usage of this object once more, if you wish, without any interruption on my part. I believe it is composed of very nearly the same amount of matter as it did predating its application as a stepping-stone, therefore... I trust you will have no qualms, since I have stolen nothing, yes?" Ineryon isn't attempting to taunt the man, or sound patronizing, and his voice suggests that he genuinely believes the problem is resolved. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Taro knows when and how to exercise restraint. While giving into anger right now might bring some momentary pleasure, it will not solve the problem at hand. Namely that the front end of his vehicle has been flattened, which also did not solve the original problem of it being mired in the mud.     The android priest just stares at him vor a very long moment at the elf's response. Did he truly and seriously just say that? Yes, yes he did, and it seems to have done absolutely nothing to placate him. "I can hardly use it in -that- condition," he retorts, making an open-handed gesture at the once-jeep-now-potentially-modern-artpiece with his free hand. "Do you even know what a motor vehicle is?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Delayed-gratification was a useful tool in maintaining order within society, and had Taro gotten violent, both he and Ineryon would have walked away from the situation either less intact physically as they were before they fought, or even not at all. Whether or not one of them would live or die in the near future, for the time-being, they were able to communicate without conveying their feelings with weaponry, for all words really amounted to, were ideas that relayed information that was relevant to one's impulses! People didn't single out this word or that word without some reason behind it, just as they didn't pick up a glass of orange juice due to utter random chance.      Compulsions, either through organic or artificial programming caused an entity to decidedly choose this action over that-- when viruses were abound, certain signals were bound to be distorted, which would lead to distorted reactions, obviously! As Taro explains that he can't use the object in its current condition, Ineryon Valos shrugs, "I cannot be held responsible for your lack of resourcefulness. There are countless applications for that object. That thing did not start out looking like it is now when it was dug up from the ground, and so too shall it look different long after you are dead, whether in one part or many." Nodding to Taro, he retorts, "....I know what a motor vehicle is, but that would inevitably become something other than a motor vehicle very soon." His eyes shift upwards and he sticks his finger in the air, "This is the rain season. For the next six weeks there will be much precipitation prior to several months of dryness."      He points his finger at the jeep, "That is deeply entrenched in the muck. By the time you'd be able to get help moving it, there'd be a very fair chance it would be swept away by a flood, considering that to forcibly wash away automobiles and even some mid-sized trees, the prerequisite is just two feet of water along with some pressurization." The dark elf sits on his boulder comfortably, appearing to be content with his explanation so far, "In fact... if you remain here for another half a day or so, you may be liable to be swept away too; assuming impact against boulders, or lack of oxygen is unhealthy for you, then a flood has potential to be damaging." He bobs his head from side to side, thoughtfully, "...Still, I stand by my original claim. That object can still be used for many things in that condition." 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     "Yet I can no longer use it for its intended purpose," Taro counters, his voice growing testy. While the long term weather forecast may be useful, possbly even appreciated, this does not change the fact that the elf that's providing him with this information has also just complicated his day. Not to mention the his primary method of egress from the area before it floods.     The android doesn't bother waiting for his reply before storming forward toward the still relatively intact bed of his vehicle. 'Storming' might not be the right term, though, as while his expression is dark, he is paying at least some attention to where he's placing his feet. Else he may get mired in the mud himself. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon scratches his chin, "...Your intended purpose; it has almost no consciousness, that I am aware of, if not none entirely." Yawning, the nobleman selects a considerably heavy boulder to sit upon, wherein he'll patiently wait an entire day, if need be, for the waters to settle so that more of the creatures burrowed under the ground can emerge, with the coming of early winter.      The drow can see Taro's expression, even if he's not stamping his feet, however, had the priest decided to have done so... it would have been appropriate, since some societies referred to 'the wet season' as 'the storm season'! Glancing at a remarkably high tree, Ineryon Valos nods his head towards it, "...If you don't want to end up being caught in the flood, I recommend climbing that tree. The vibrations in the ground I'm receiving through this stone are telling me that things are beginning to move."      His fanny was on the rock that was firmly anchored down, which meant more than just the three points of his feet's soles were receiving information, thus, the dark elf was predicting accurately that there would be some manner of random stampede, which was improbable, versus another rush of water, which was more probable. "I'd say it's about... hmm.... forty minutes from converging... give or take." 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Taro grunts quietly in answer. The information has been received, and it is not being ignored. In fact, it gives him reason to hurry, but not to make undo haste. There's a squelch of mud, followed by the creaky-screech of protesting metal as he hoists himself onto the rear bumper of the jeep. With one hand clamped firmly to the frame to keep his balance, he reaches within to retrieve a messenger-type bag and some sort of folded metal-and-plastic contraption about the length and width of a large map case. the bag is slung over his shoulder by the strap, and with the device clutched in his previously free hand, he carefully steps back down into the mire. He retraces his steps with care back toward drier ground. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      While Taro starts fumbling around with various supplies, the dark elf pulls out his sharpening stone and begins to prepare it, so that he can give his weapon a finer, more crisp edge to it. It wasn't as though his weapon couldn't pierce whatever it hit thoroughly, yet, there was time to spare, ergo... why not use it wisely? Having positioned himself at a decent elevation, and knowing how much time was allotted predating the arrival of the alleged flood, he changed his mind, and put the sharpening stone down for a spell.      He drew forth a book, titled "How To Lie With Statistics", which he'd purchased a week or two ago, seeing that he was inclined towards reading materials. Ineryon Valos was no liar, but that didn't mean he had an excuse to leave himself exposed to the practices of those out there who /would/ try to manipulate others, drows included, with arguably predetermined results from the yet undelivered polls! 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     The choice in reading materials would amuse him if he were close enough to see and less preoccupied. Since that is not the case, Taro makes no comment. Once back near the tree line, he sets both device bag down on a fallen log, moving to loosen the latter's binding straps so as to improvise a way of strapping the former to it. Having to carry it in hand would be slightly inconvenient.     Since the mysterious elf has already offered some information, he asks, "How wide will the coming flood be?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon wasn't especially for OR against Taro, and if asked, would've been inclined to share details of his text, though, what with the priest having to handle so many chores so that he can scramble to safety, a sensible person would understand why he'd not yet taken the opportunity to ask his 'neighbor' about any of the book's content.      Nonetheless, rather than an eerie silence between the two of them emanating as would two enemies trapped together in a standstill confrontation, waiting for the other one's move, Taro boldly extends a fraction of what might be construed as the olive branch-- or, mayhap it was for survival purposes. Ineryon's eyes turned towards the left as he took visual focus off of his book, as well as the priest, so that he'd be less distracted by a motionless portion of the landscape, giving him an opportunity to 'think' about the answer. Bending forward, he placed his ear to the stone. The pulse was more precise, and intensified, which was something some animals could do to pick up signals. "If it conforms to the shape of this section, the width will be fixed, assuming it's enough to fill it horizontally, which will be the case."      The dark elf shrugs, "Vertically... The water may be somewhere between two and a half to four feet. On the other hand, I don't want to discourage you from subscribing to Chaos Theory, which could mean that in actuality, it'll be an army of Demonic Flan that are capable of defying solid shapes, in addition to a variable degree of gravity; they can't fly, but they can move up hills...." He assumes this is a good enough explanation, and with luck, it won't be any gelatinous monsters, for... then their problem will be far greater than mere, mindless mud raging maniacally. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     "Then to attempt to outrun it would be an exercise in futility." His tone makes it not so much a question as seeking confirmation of his statement.     Device as secured as he can make it, he shortens the shoulder strap so that it won't swing and bump against him as freely, then loops it over neck and shoulder. Then, he goes to retrieve his cassock from the treebranch he'd draped it over earlier. Rather than take the time to don it again, he instead flings it over his shoulder and tucks the trailing ends through his belt. "I will take my chances that it will water, mud, and debris, though I suppose there's a remote chance there is a flan factory upstream." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      When Taro asks if trying to outrun the flood would be futile, to which the drow rubs the back of his neck, scrunching up his eyes and wrinkling his nose as an unconscious reaction to the itch where he'd just scratched-- darned gnats.      He was glad that he hadn't been attacked by mosquitoes as of yet, alas, with the muck sitting there riddled with tiny pools of still water following the former floods, different bug larvae had hatched, and which meant that soon the exsanguination would transpire! That's the part Ineryon disliked about fishing. "I'd say that depends on your goal. If you want to survive, trying to outrun it would be.... ineffectual.... however, if you're in harmony with the notion that all things, all beings, are temporary in their respective shape at any point in time, you'll realize that eventually, you will expire sooner or later, so it might matter less how long you live... but the quality of life you have for the period you've been given."      Baron Valos displays a toothy-grin, albeit a very faint one, "...Exercise is good for endorphines, or so I've heard. Maybe you'll die happy that way.... If you live a few more years, you could experience a much more agonizing demise." 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     One advantage of being a machine lifeform is that most insects don't bother with trying to bite him. Taro has none of the proper scents that attract their attention, and may even be a little off-putting to them.     He spares a moment to check his gloves, tightening the left one slightly, before reaching up to grab the low-hanging tree branch above him. "I am of the perspective that I have already died once, and am reluctant to repeat the experience again so soon." A soft grunt of exertion as he pulls himself up. "Not to mention that my Master would be rather inconvenienced if I were to die at this time." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon cocks an eyebrow at Taro, who asserts that he believed he'd already died, which wasn't wholly unheard of, within the Multiverse, but it's enough to catch the dark elf's attention; of the potent knacks within the nexus of worlds, direct reincarnation was a more unique skill. The drow himself didn't plan to discuss what his race were prone towards, at that instant, seeing that there was no reason to discuss what Astos was or was not capable of, and how well others of his race could sometimes(or scarcely) pull off the same parlor trick, in regards to making a big comeback. Not to disregard what Taro had stated, Ineryon put the book down next to himself with a book-mark in it, which made it easily readable, even from Taro's distance; this was done because Ineryon felt that he was receiving useful information, so it was appropriate to give Taro his barely-divided attention.      "Your master will very assuredly be inconvenienced in one way or another, anyhow." Stretching his legs out, in the foreknowledge that later on he won't have as much room, Baron Valos elaborated on that line of thought, "...Anything that is put together is something that can also be taken apart. That which is located within the expanse of creation is effectively in the jurisdiction of the institution, or entity that oversees all within it. All subsystems are contained within parent systems. If your master values their life, they will be inconvenienced when it comes time for the universe, or 'multiverse' to dismantle them."      He sighs a tad, only mildly entertained at this point, "....Can't fault them. Anything that recognizes itself, or that is aware of itself, ultimately expends some energy towards self-preservation, therefore, to be is to yearn to be. This is true even in the case of suicidal folks, who dispatch themselves reluctantly, ultimately having preference to the possibility of a less painful life, as opposed to having to settle for none at all.... Rocks, clouds... abandoned sea-shells.... these things don't care if their default form is radically modified to the point of what would be considered a state of non-existence of their former selves... Hey, things change, what else can be said?" 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Aren't you the philosophical one."     Taro reaches up for the next branch, then tests to see if it will hold his weight before he pulls himself higher. Though he's not exactly in the habit of climbing trees, it is only the shifting weight of his bag that makes the act so awkward. He's rather graceful, truth be told.     The act is repeated, testing a branch above him to ensure it will hold his weight, then pulling himself up and over. He reaches above him again, though this time merely to steady himself as he looks down to see how far he's come. No fear of heights in this one, it appears. "Death does tend to be inconvenient for the person experiencing it. Perhaps that is why it is so difficult for any of our caliber to actually die, or to remain dead." There's a hint of wryness in his voice with those words.     Apparently satisfied that he's high enough to not be in the direct path of the impending flood, he shifts his burden from behind him to in front of him. Then, using the trunk as a backrest, he moves to sit down. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      The dark elf wrinkles his nose a bit more when Taro refers to him as a philosophical type, causing him to wonder if the remark was made in an attempt to insult through sarcasm, or praise through authentic recognition of housing at least one specific talent. Whatever the case, he decided it wasn't something that needed addressing-- he was focused less on who he was, and more on what his actions' outcomes resembled.      Ineryon finishes stretching his muscles, and then reclaims his sharpening-stone, which he can easily use almost absent-mindedly while still conversing effectively with Taro, "Death is inconvenient for the person who is in the process of experiencing it, I'd say, since... one of the fundamental aspects of death is that one endures both physical and psychological pain simultaneously. Consider, if you will, that when death actually takes root, the odds are that the individual doesn't acknowledge the fact, since neurotransmitters would be inoperable, thereby denying one access to sensations which are usually delivered through filters enabling perception, such as sight... sound... smell..."      He rolled his eyes, chiding himself for playing the part of the laymen, which his brethren would shame him for-- but not everyone could be a genius like his kin... he was just an average Valosian dark elf. "The physical pain that usually comes with death amounts to accelerated heartbeats of one hundred fifty or more beats per minute, else dizziness from blood loss, nausea.. and a plethora of other things, which doesn't even account for the fact that the victim in question could be suffering from knife-wounds, choking from hemoptysis, or burns.... Secondly, the /anticipation/ of what's oncoming adds an emotional level of distress, which serves to amplify the sensations felt by the body." He pauses for a second, "However, I suspect that being in a comatose state is nearly identical to death in terms of awareness, which is what makes death more unpleasant when one foresees it." 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     "Is that first-hand account, sir, or are you a member of the medical profession?" It's hard to say whether he's being entirely serious or if he excels in deadpan delivery.     While waiting for the flood that is in theory coming, he may as well make himself comfortable. Taro folds his gloved hands and rests them overtop the bag that he's cradling. Relatively relaxed, not seeming to be overly tense with anticipation. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Shrugging somewhat indifferently, Ineryon proceeds to respond, "Everyone who has ever read a label on a bottle of medicine and taken a pill in an attempt to improve their health is in the profession of medicine, because they are trying to medicate. Profession comes from profiteri in the common tongue in my own home-world, so, surmising that your definition of 'profession' matches mine to a larger or smaller extent... it means an occupation that one professes to be skilled in, and an occupation is simply an act one applies themselves to that 'occupies' their time... while, skill can vary from being able to read a label, to being an avid reader of the latest medical journals with articles approved by certified experts."      This is an honest answer, in his opinion, so he feels it is satisfactory. But, just to humor Taro, Ineryon wags his wrist, gesturally demonstrating he thinks nigh barely a thing about what he's about to announce, "I've suffered grievous injuries before. But I've also borne witness to others on the battlefield who have perished... not to mention, I do like to read a book now and again... Presumably, this answers at least /one/ of your queries?" 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''      A small, graceful shrug from him in turn. "I suppose that it does." Taro leaves it at that, saying nothing more for now. He gaze shifts into the distance, in the general direction of upstream, towards the not entirely distant mountains. Silence, not even the sound of breathing from him. 

}}

962/Indigo-goes Fishing

2014-11-25T22:31:17Z

Blondesamurai: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/11/13 |Location=The Great Ruin |Synopsis=Taro seeks peace in a watery shrine, and Ineryon seeks pieces in the form of fish meat. |Thanks= |Cas..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/11/13
|Location=The Great Ruin
|Synopsis=Taro seeks peace in a watery shrine, and Ineryon seeks pieces in the form of fish meat.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=399, 615
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      The dark elf named Ineryon Valos is accustomed to islands, and ruins built atop areas where tides sporadically flood. As is the case with some of the others of his breed, he lays claim to blue skin, a horn atop his head, a tail, and some spikes projecting from his elbows. The region isn't inundated with melodic symphony born from artificial instruments, and merely carries echoes from the natural sounds of the sea, against which the drow takes no issue. He's dressed in a hodgepodge of armor comprised of stone, leather, and even reptilian scales, which my have originally belonged to a basilisk, if not mayhap a fierce dragon!      As he walks carefully along the wall using his spear for addition balance, making certain not to fall into the water below, despite the greatest threat is becoming moistened, and not taking actual damage, he keeps an ear out for anyone else that might be nearby; on the one hand, he's hoping to find somebody, whilst on the other, he's wishing against the notion that it's somebody who might harbor a grudge. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Sharp ears will eventually catch the sound of weather-worn gravel crunching underfoot. Even footsteps, not in a great hurry. The one making them is being cautious, though his concern is more for attracting the attention of a predator or causing one of the more precarious ruins from collapsing into ruins than running into another wanderer. Though usually his non-organic scent is usually enough to convince the average animal that he would not make a good meal...     Taro is in no particular hurry to go wherever he is going. He's following what was likely once a road but long since gone to the same ruin as the buildings surrounding it, which may or may not be leading to anywhere of importance. Today, it is the journey more than the destination - a rare moment away from demands of Master and of Church and of his well meaning but mother-hen of an adoptive brother. A moment to turn to inner thoughts while alone.     For as long as 'alone' lasts, anyway. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon was in some senses, predatory, but in some respects, he was anything but-- the net result of what information he'd gathered thus far about Taro was enough to deter the drow from considering the notion of trying to feast on him. For beginners, while the armored fellow had a good foot or two on the robed character, Ineryon could discern Taro was not altogether ignorant; he was developed mentally enough to clothe himself, lest he be some bipedal pet who just happened to stroll too far from his master....      A master who'd decidedly, perhaps absurdly, to dress their cute little familiar. It did occur, yet, the dark elf never comprehended the purpose of dressing up animals in outfits-- not unless those outfits were practical, and were composed of extra armor! By chance, it appears Ineryon Valos' trajectory coincides with Taro's position, and seeing no cause to alter it, the dark elf appears to almost 'glide' from one stone pedestal to a wall without relying on brute force to propel, or else to cushion. And... then... IT HAPPENS!      *SPLASH*      Not two feet from Taro the spear plunges into the water, stabbing into the water where a shallow channel congregated into a minor pool which had formerly been inhabited by a content icthyoid of some type. It was still wriggling, ergo, not fully slain, but Ineryon would be certain to deal with his fish dinner in short order. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     He's quite capable of dressing himself, thank you, and these robes happen to be practical. In some places, silk is a symbol of luxury, but the material also happens to be naturally fire resistant and difficult to pierce.     Taro comes to a stop when catches a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye, highly tuned reflexes reaching for one of the things on his belt...but he stays his hand when he realizes that the spear that just crossed his path was not interested in him but what was in front of him. Still, his head turns in the direction from where he believes it must have come, eyes narrowed in a wary sort of way. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Outside of the sound emitted from the impact of stone spear-tip into water, and fish thrashing its tail in the puddle, desperately trying to escape whatever torment has befallen it, the silence between the two larger figures remains unbroken. Ineryon Valos sees the man who apparently wears fire-proof attire(unbeknownst to Ineryon that it is, in fact, non-flammable), and then his eyes flit over to the weapon he'd hurled moments ago.      Hovering from stone to stone, he eventually reaches what qualifies as being the closest one to his quarry, which is occupied by Taro. Not wanting to trespass on the unobtrusive man's personal property, for the time being, the dark elf squints for an instant's time, and the terra-firma beneath the superficial pool arises like a miniature tectonic plate shifting. The elevation causes the water to slip away into other areas as it conforms to gravity's pull, which leaves behind a manner of solid silt upon which Ineryon can tread without getting himself damp.      In the process of this topographical upset, an entire wall ends up toppling into the waters, changing the layout of the old ruins, in defiance of the fact that they may have served at least a meager purpose a having spiritual significance to someone, somewhere. Unbothered by the fact that he's changed the appearance of the marine shrine, the drow collects his spear and immediately goes about biting the fish's head off, provided Taro doesn't intervene. At least there isn't some kind of ecological disaster to come about as a consequence of this structural shift, right? 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Taro takes a few steps back and slightly to the side, not out of fear - or at least there isn't any fear registering on his face - but to avoid the collapsing wall and water splashing from the pool thanks to that.     He does not move to stop the stranger (elf, perhaps? The ears are of the right shape, at least) from claiming the spear or its prey. He does, however, avert his gaze and curl his lips slightly in an expression of revulsion as the fish is quickly and crudely dispatched.     "Are you planning to catch any more of those?" he asks, tone reflecting his distaste. Nothing like an unexpected demonstration of all that is disgusting about the process of eating to ruin one's mood... 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      If it's true that Taro isn't the type to show much expression, then it can be said that Ineryon achieved something by provoking him into a sort of sneer, or something of that nature; if the man simply doesn't smile much, then the dark elf has accomplished nothing special on this day. The initial clenching of incisors belonging to the drow severs the tie the fish's nervous system had with the world in a functional way, causing a cessation of struggle-- the creature suffers no more.      When the 'priest' submits inquiry, the dark-skinned sylvan proceeds to chew without stopping, electing not to speak while grinding away the flesh in his mouth, lest he gamble with suffocation. Swallowed, he pauses, and places the fish on a stone that isn't far from himself, that Ineryon may be allowed to entertain Taro's curiosity until such time that he'll be able to resume feasting without interruption. Being accosted with query wasn't terribly inconvenient, so there's no reciprocative countenance or display of repugnance on the dark elf's face, even if he managed to gross-out the man in the black robe, "That'd depend on a variety of things."      He nods his head, approving of his own reply's accuracy, then elaborates, "I plan to live further, and I suspect I will again hunger. When this time approaches, I'll see what's readily availed itself in my respective environ, so that I might sustain that which I ascertain to be what is myself." 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     Taro very pointedly does not watch predator consume prey, instead taking a sudden interest in the new profile of the broken wall. Which admittedly isn't all that interesting in a land of ruins, but better that than watching another eat. He is still listening, though, and after hearing the answer replies, "Let me be more specific, then. Do you intend to catch any more of those," he waves a gloved hand in the direction of the partially eaten fish, "in the next few minutes?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon listens to Taro ask his question, and shrugs his head mildly, "When the next few minutes have passed, the answer will be known to me. When the answer becomes known to me, I can pass it on, if you feel there's some reason it's imperative for you to be privy."      Inwardly feeling this is the most truthful response he can render, Ineryon grasps the scaly organism, preparing to take another bite, before pausing, as a question registers in his own mind that he feels compelled to ask, "Is there something important to you about one cluster of proteins being assimilated by another collection of proteins, even if neither of them arguably qualify as belonging to yourself?" For all the dark elf knew, Taro might have been thinking of interfering with his next catch.... if there was to be one! 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     The initial shock now over, Taro manages a more diplomatic tone to accompany his words. "I have no interest or desire to interrupt your...meal...any more than I have already. Neither do I have an interest in joining it, or taking it from you." He dares a glance in the elf's direction, spots him about to continue dining, and so looks away again. "Have I intruded on your hunting grounds?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon Valos cocks an eyebrow at Taro when the fellow asks if he's intruded on the drow's hunting grounds, provoking a counter-query designed to give the priest an opportunity to decide for himself if he deserved the right to remain, or to go, or... to be more precise... a series of questions, "Was the body of this fish the property of this fish?" The dark elf gnaws away at another morsel, while giving Taro a chance to process the question, at which point he asks another, "Are these hunting grounds mine, if you can take them from me? Are they yours if someone can deprive you of ownership?"      Ineryon sighs, and takes one last bite, swallowing the rest of the morsel, "Once we establish what rightfully belongs to whom, I can answer your question. For now.... though..." He tilts his head from side to side a bit, "....Your other answer is now at the stage of maturation. A few minutes have passed; I am done eating, and I do not plan on catching another fish." Promptly, he pulls out a handkerchief, dips it in some water, wipes his hands, then commences with standing upright, preparing to head out, unless halted. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     "How philosphical." This is not the first conversation he's held while not looking directly at the speaker, his gaze off somewhere in the distance. Still, for all that he's not looking at the elf, Taro's stance is guarded, and though his left hand is no longer at his belt, neither does it stray far from it. "One could argue that the fish was rather attached to its body, though it no longer has need for it now." A small, graceful shrug. "I simply ask because if I have wandered unknowingly into your territory and you do not wish me here, then I will take my person and my thoughts elsewhere. I've no interest in this place aside from the relative peace and quiet. If this land belongs to itself, then I plan to continue walking in that general direction," he gestures with his right hand in the direction that he'd been walking on the once-road, "for a while yet."     Once it's been made clear that no more fish will be caught in the immediate future, the priest turns in the direction of his conversation parter. Well, at least he has a few manners and knows basic hygene. "Should I be concerned about you, or any others who may be travelling this way?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      While Taro reveres the Valosian dark elf to be competent enough to possess manners, it's not something Ineryon can argue for or against, since they are unspoken thoughts, and the drow is hardly a psychic! Then again, was it also mannerly to fixate elsewhere while speaking to company right in front of oneself? Both of these things were undoubtedly culturally contingent, which is why Ineryon didn't seem daunted when the priest plainly exhibited his appalling visage upon consumption of the fish.      "The insects that the fish ate were attached to their bodies. All the same, they inevitably became part of the fish's bio-mass. Now that fish is part of me." Upon admission of his reasons for having traversed to the oceanic ruin, Taro finally gives Ineryon a clue as to what the man was doing-- contemplation, or something of that pedigree, it appeared. Scanning the perimeter to the best of his ability, Ineryon folds his arms over his chest, thinking about Taro's question, "How much do you trust a complete stranger? I'd say that if you're unwilling to trust me not to take whatever things are on your person from you while you slumber, or for a duration when you might be at any feasible disadvantage, that at any juncture in time, my presence should be either a great, or minor concern."      The drow shrugs, "Presently, we are both alive, and neither of us seems inclined to assault the other. Things change, and sometimes without much warning. Be concerned for so long as you can't predict the entirety of the ever-evolving multiverse." Ineryon points his spear in a different direction than where Taro indicated his general direction, "...Two ships passing in the night. I am heading a different way than you, geographically. For now, you should be concerned with me, but less so than you should be concerned with whatever might lie in wait on the road ahead of you. 

:'''{{#var:399|Taro (399)}} has posed:'''     "I tend to sleep with one eye open," Taro states simply. That he has no intention of spending the night here, or that technically speaking he doesn't sleep, do not bear mentioning, and so he does not.     A nod is given to the drow's answers and gesture. "I see. Then I will take care as I continue on my way, and be concerned about you and about anyone and anything as the situation dictates." He raises his right hand, fingers curling in what is likely some kind of religious gesture. "May you find your path blocked by no obstacles that you cannot surmount." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      With the procession of his exodus about to resume, having received some kind of blessing(?) from Taro in the form of a unique farewell, Ineryon gives a small nod, "That'd be quite an optimistic outcome, but they do say that hope springs eternal...." This, being his cue to depart, the dark elf gives a sort of ordinary nod to the priest, acknowledging him one last time, as he too goes to wherever he feels led-- with the one thing he claimed to be eternal leading the way; hope that it will be for the betterment of his life. 

}}

1006/Finna Fishes For Philosophical Conversation

2014-11-25T22:27:38Z

Blondesamurai: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/11/21 |Location=Boston-666 |Synopsis=At the pier, Finna gets into some marine mischief until her antics are intercepted by Ineryon Valos, who ..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/11/21
|Location=Boston-666
|Synopsis=At the pier, Finna gets into some marine mischief until her antics are intercepted by Ineryon Valos, who has some things to say about the stunt.
|Thanks=Finna
|Cast of Characters=513, 615
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      It's midday, and Ineryon Valos has come to a pier in Boston to do a tidbit of fishing, yet, his method is different than that of other folks in the vicinity. He doesn't have a fishing-rod, or a line, or any bait whatsoever, yet, his eyesight isn't any better than that of the human folk who are pulling in a good haul!      The drow, a master of the element of earth, manipulator of minerals, has a very peculiar means of locating things in the depths, beneath the waters, where sunlight doesn't reveal things immediately visible to the naked eye; he homes in on the presence of calcium, which is a prevalent mineral often found in metamorphic rock, which /also/ happens to have large concentrations in icthyoids and crustaceans, possessing either shell or bone. Lord Valos' spear lays claim to a stone-point, instead of metal, like the armor he wears, which endows him with the ability to manipulate the movement of his weaponry, even after he's thrown it! Raising his arm, his brows furrow as his mind focuses intensely on the shifting of different clusters of bone and shell in the water, above the sandy bottom, which is primarily a mixture of metamorphic and sedimentary stone, not just calcium.      *PLUNK*      The spear hits the water, and impales a decidedly large fish, which Ineryon can levitate upwards, courtesy of a spear that harbors a fossilized tip.... the haft, being wood, is something he has practically zero control over, so he can only hope the jagged blade never comes loose whilst it lies in the water, else he'll lose the entire thing. Cautiously, he raises the wriggling fish through the air, with the pronged-fork pierced through it, hoping to collect a meal in just a few moments' time! 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     Beneath the water's surface... someone else is swimming down there, but not at all in spear range. Finna has been watching from beneath the waves, courtesy of gills on her neck and using shapeshifting to weigh her down a little as she swims lazily around the swimmers. It is PRANK TIME. It is very much prank time.     Soon, other fishermen - some of which have taken to looking INeryon's way with serious curiosity, disdain, or puzzlement - are in for some weirdness.     One of them will be reeling in a lobster. Another has snagged a very thrashy BOOT TO THE HEAD.     One fisherman has caught another fisherman's hook.     The next one down is literally reeling in a fishing pole that someone dropped several days ago.     The pier is about to become very confusing.     Especially because Ineryon's going to find something fighting against the spear's return. Something down there is... much larger than he thought it would be, approaching the spear and fighting. MAYBE SOMETHING IS AFTER HIS CATCH?!     Nah Finna's just shaking the thing and fighting the levitation, assuming she's shaking a fisherman up there until she looks up and sees... no line attached... buh?     *BLUB*     In her surprise she lets out quite a stream of bubbles... 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      It becomes evident that something is amiss when various fishermen are struggling to get their quarries as they hoist different things into the air than expected. Finally, Ineryon realizes that his pike isn't returning as readily as he foresaw, causing him to blink, quizzically. He doesn't apply additional pressure to the spear, even if he's able to technically exert enough force to the maximum of lifting several tons, instead, favoring an alternate method of examining the contents below the waters.      Just like what dolphins and other types of creatures can use to scan lightless regions, Baron Valos calls upon the power of electroreception to send pulses through the area, which bounce back in lighter or heavier caliber, depending on if his wavelengths are repelled by liquid, or solid matter. If there is something large beneath the surface which(who?) is causing those bubbles to surface. For all he knows, he might've somehow hooked onto a pillar of the pier and yanked something loose which released that air.... or-- mayhap there's a creature trying to snag the sumptuous feast that he's trying to collect!      Whatever the case, even if he loses the fish, he doesn't intend to have his spear pilfered!.... The question is, approximately what physical dimensions does this thing possess that he's snagged, how dense is it, and is it composed of a soft matter, or a harder substance? His lips contort into a flat-line of annoyance as his successful 'hunt' is delayed, in any event. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     Expecting another spear, or perhaps the fisherman himself to come down and investigate a weirdly dropped spear, Finna dolphin-strokes away from the Ineryon's spear and leaves it there upon realizing it was somehow lifting without any rope attached to it. There's a faint bubble trail from her movement, but for the most part? Nah.     You'd have to look REALLY hard with normal eyes to see her motion down there. But with Ineryon's other senses... yeeeaaaah there's a person down there being a weirdo. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      The nobleman pulls up his spear, along with the catch, and can tell something is swimming about, causing mischief. From what he can tell, it's a 'person' of some fashion, but why would she be causing trouble, unless she belongs to a mischievous race, like a goblin, or a mermaid....?      That in mind, he becomes curious about this 'creature' who keeps playing games, after all, if Ineryon is to keep hunting, he cannot expect to succeed if this creature keeps interfering. What's the best method of finding out if something is sapient or not? Why.... to see how it reacts to 'pain', of course! Wild animals only know fight or flight, but beings who have enough 'self-control' to forego succumbing instantaneously to instinct are sometimes capable of verbally expressing disappointment when injured; this doesn't guarantee she'll speak the same language, even so.... he wants to see if this fiend is innocent, and acting on sheer programming, or if it is consciously causing trouble for the sake of its personal amusement! Picking up a rock he has on hand, being that he has several, he lobs it into the water where he can sense Finna.      He can see the faint bubble-trail, but more importantly, he can feel her 'mass' within the water. The catapult isn't designed to be bone-shattering or anything, though, it should create a small bruise, being that it's more sizable than a mere pebble! 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     AUGH! Finna was expecting a spear to another fish, or a dude jumping down after the spear... but instead, a rock strikes the water and doesn't slow down enough to matter. She's clobbered in the side, and OW, THAT STINGS. With a spark of anger she swims up towards the surface, but-- but doesn't quite get all the way there. After all, the prank's over with if peopel figure out what's going on down there!     So instead...     Instead, she sucks in a lot of water, puffing out her cheeks and--     SQUUUUUUIIIIIIIIIRRRRRTT!     Much like some fish do, Finna squirts a sustained jet of water up out of the sea and at Ineryon's face!     PAYBACK! 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      What was this, a Kirby-fish? Now it was sucking in things and spitting them back out at its enemies! The water hits Ineryon in the face, which causes him to scowl as he quickly tries to wipe away the liquid that struck him-- being splashed with nastiness which probably had all kinds of human-made litter and animal excretions who lived in the body of water was a surefire way to gross out the drow. After he uses a handkerchief to dry his face off, he focuses on some of the igneous rock deep on the under layers downwards, and rips free a /massive/ chunk, the size of... well, a marlin! A disruption in the water causes a tremendous volume of bubbles to burst at the surface, but more importantly, Ineryon can play 'Green Lantern' except with things made out of stone!      The gobs of long-cooled magma become reshaped into a sort of giant two-fingered claw one might see in contemporary cranes used to assemble skyscrapers and houses alike. This pair of talons, not extremely sharp, are designed to capture, but leave unharmed, whatever it is that is provoking everyone on the pier-- then again, Ineryon is doing this mostly for his own benefit, not that of the other fishermen. If he was more like the rest of his bloodline, or Astos himself, Ineryon might be partial towards simply trying to slaughter whatever was in the water without bothering to try to raise it to the surface.... but this particular dark elf is more merciful than his brethren.      So it is that he tries to lock in on Finna, utilizing the massive stone-claw to encircle her waist(or what amounts to a place where it can get a grip), then excavate her so that all can see who it is that is harassing the locals! Technically, if anyone has any disparaging intentions, they will qualify as being the initial party to cast the first stone, because Ineryon's stunt didn't really qualify as such, seeing that his own hand never touched the rock formation trying to ensnare Finna! 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     "Whu---" Sensing - through vibrations - the disruption in the ground beneath her, Finna kicks at the water and gets to motion swiftly. She's not gonna stay there to be grabbed by whatever WEIRD thing's going on down there. And this is just in the nick of time. A claw of rock almost grabs her legs and tail but with all her might and reflexes Finna whips her body just out of the way. Then... her foot strikes the igneous formation and gains purchase. Using it, she vaults UP...     UP, and out of the water. Erupting from the surface with a spray of water in her wake, and absolutely sogged - not to mention utterly naked save for what seems to be the lower part of an icy blue bikini (if you'd like to imagine soggy hair draped over her front, you totally can!)     She executes a spectacular somersault, lands nimbly on the pier, and whips a scowly gaze left and right until she spots... Ineryon.     The only person about - many others have cleared away by now - who looks REALLY DARNED WEIRD.     Ineryon, mind you, will probably easily see something weird about her. This young woman has white fox ears atop her head and a fox tail of the same fur color sprouting from her rump. All of it's utterly waterlogged and--     And... and... oh.     Yes, she wastes no time stomping towards Ineryon.     "Aaaaaaalright. A rock's one thing. What's the big idea, turning a little prank into a war?!" For a human, she's doing a marvelous job of growling and snarling as she storms forth, stopping about three feet away with her cheeks puffing up!     Almost as an afterthought, she demonstrates the same ability to shake herself dry that dogs do, flinging water from her body in a spray! 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Upon failing to snatch up Finna, Lord Valos allows the large stone hand to sink back into the depths, where it'd be bound to be covered over with the passing of the ages. On the other hand, Finna was a sight to see, since, in spite of being able to hold her breath for extended periods of time like some kind of cetacean, she had vulpine ears, aside having a tail to match, which struck Ineryon as mismatched-- the Multiverse certainly did draw out folks from all walks of life!      While the drow doesn't cringe noticeably, an exhibition of fear in the wake of her bitterness, neither did he try to react defiantly and patronize the woman as someone full of overconfidence, who always felt the need to have the upper-hand, which was also the very definition of 'bada55'...no, Ineryon did not disdainfully dismiss, and further condescend her fury as something insignificant, as though presuming himself to be superior in all forms of potentially accessible firepower to use against a threat. The actuality is, he's more muddled than afraid, conceited, or competitive; a trait of the inquisitive, and not so much of the self-assured. Ineryon Valos strokes his chin for a fraction of a minute, trying to determine what to make of her words, appearance, and demeanor, until she sprays him with a hailstorm of water-droplets, soaking him in that putrid, unclean stuff from the body of water below.      Now he adorns a hint of a frown on his face, "I had no indication prior to your current method of speech-craft to enable a determination of your level of intellect, although, at present.... my first evaluation, which has come to manifestation as of this very moment, tells me there is a margin for much possible improvement, despite the fact that /some/ does reside within your being." For all he knew.... she was some kind of rare specimen of sea-creature that he could've hauled in for a good sum of cash, and maybe a chance at naming a new species! No such luck. He points accusingly at her, "I suggest next time you strive to communicate distaste at rocks being swept in your direction, that you seek to use words instead of squirting hydration to convey your opinions on said solicitation by way of stone."      The tall man sighs, "The primary language of terrestrial beings is scarcely identical the media employed by maritimes." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     "...." Blink, blink. Finna's looking like she's about to yell for a moment, but she's forced to pause and work hard to translate Ineryon's words in her head. What a weird, WACKY way of speaking. It's wacky enough to make her lips twist about left and right in several shades of perplexion.     Finally, she folds her arms over her chest and just stares sourly into his eyes.     The woman's fury is quickly quenched though when she breathes in more of the seaside air. She doesn't seem bothered at all about her state of dress - or lck thereof - and instead her attention sweeps over INeryon more and more frantically while he's speaking.     Eventually, though, she ends up frowning at him. Then bursts out with a wordless exclamation of frustration and disgust.     Bt with a few deep breaths to regain her composure - an almost certainly irrelevant thing at this point, she manages to grin. "That wouldn't be nearly as much fun!" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      For Ineryon, his way of transmission was as natural, and probably as unconscious as breathing itself, when one factored into the whole equation such variables as what his ilk did to transfer information back and forth. They even had their own philosophy about not necessarily needing to become angry if someone presented 'information that they didn't find valuable', which, in conventional terms, would be viewed as someone 'talking trash' about the listener. Postponing personal prejudice was a core procedure in relating to others, and one the Valii took seriously, though of their pedigree, Ineryon was only a notch above the average curve, so it was that he was hardly the most educated or wordy of his race!      Eventually, Finna gets to the second chapter of her story in the chronicles of Ineryon and the Icthyoid Imposter, which causes Baron Valos to rub his forehead as he took in her complaints about absence of fun. Folding his arms over his chest, he finds a wooden pylon, and uses it to seat himself; the drow has a sinking feeling this woman isn't going to leave him alone unless she receives a replica of an apology, which is something she will /not/ be granted. Ineryon, confident as ever that he made no error, decides to yoke a primitive means of compensation to dispense with her, thereby causing him to pluck a dead fish from his bucket, and proceed to toss it at her, "Adequate reimbursement." If this doesn't work, he suspects there will be a discussion where neither side will inevitably walk, or swim away satisfied. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     OOOOOH. FOOD.     Ineryon probably might not've realized it, but that might be the best way to calm Finna down! FOOOOOD. She loves food. One of her biggest vices, really!     "Apology[[User:Blondesamurai|Blondesamurai]] ([[User talk:Blondesamurai|talk]]) 16:27, 25 November 2014 (CST)-" A hand swipes out to snatch the fish from the air by the tail and raise it up. "Accepted~! Down the hatch!"     Her jaws open wide, though seemingly no wider than any normal person would manage. And still, SOMEHOW, she manages to gulp down the fish. Ineryon can see it if he looks, a bulge going down her throat before Finna lowers her head again, and licks her lips.     Now in a MUCh better mood, she hops in a litle closer and circles the dark elf a few times, examining his gear, ears.... especially the ears. And for that one brief moment her whole body frezes up with fear. "ahahah.... out of curiosity, just where does a longwinded guy like you hail from, hm?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      The drow winces upon hearing Finna pronounce his actions as a form of apology. For the sake of redefining the nature of his 'reimbursement', and the intentions behind his appeasement, he grunted, "...I think you have misunderstood me." Scanning around the area, seeing if he can find someone who looks more peculiar than himself, he inwardly prays for an opportunity to pass her off onto someone else in favor of a shinier trinket for the woman to fawn over, or nag. In light of what happened, most of the pier has been forsaken, leaving so few residents that if there was someone more interesting than Ineryon or Finna, they've vacated by this period.      "The reimbursement was a means of sating whatever dues you might have insisted on were I to have manually requested you depart my company. Since this is not my property, I was of the hope that... I could bribe you into going somewhere else to eat in peace, since it would've been an unfair imposition on my part if I'd asked a favor without rendering some fee to justify the labors you might funnel into my request." He shakes his head, "I, in no way, feel I sullied your 'fun', in wake of the fact that in my point of view, this thrill you indulged in was contingent upon the fact that you held the advantageous position relinquishing control to you, while thieving it from others who were ignorant to the nature of their plights!" Baron Valos gives a pause, and nibbles on one of his own fish, while knowingly ignoring her remarks about being long-winded, since he felt it was hypocritical for a woman able to hold her breath so long submerged to be making such remarks about himself! Resuming his explanation, he went into detail, "Let us examine, for instance, the varied modes of extracting ecstasy from any kind of event, and how elements related to perceived personal power play into the maturation of sensations welling up, that may be defined holistically as 'having fun', shall we?" No, he was not going to allow her to think she had attained an apology, not by a long shot!      "In a random environment, where one is fraught with danger, and one constantly has to assuage the entity with a greater magnitude of persuasion over who experiences pain, or probability of death, the one in the weakened position experiences things like panic, terror, anger, indignation, even prior to whether one has yet felt a large extent of pain or decline in health. It's the mere belief, or prediction that one is at risk, whilst being disadvantaged that causes them anxiety. Worse, supposing this individual were being chased by one lion, and another, larger lion spontaneously erupted into the clearing, causing the quarry to be shocked at first.... which would have to be enacted /before/ processing the new conditions and figuring out that they were in even worse trouble." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon then clears his throat, "But... surprise, shock, and amazement, can be converted into fear, anger, or mirth, all hinging on who controls the environment." He opens his arms wide, to illustrate his story, "Let us say that lion two suddenly turns on lion one, not because lion two, the larger one.... wishes to fight over you as prey, but because lion one trespassed on lion two's territory. Suddenly, this massive beast is trouncing the original pursuer, turning the tables in the favor of the prey, who was up until that point, feeling helpless, only to feel a sensation of utter bewilderment upon the emergence of the second lion."      "This could have turned into further terror, utter depression if the prey gave into weeping in the face of certain demise, or rage, if they built up enough courage to consider taking one of the beasts with him. On the other hand, because of the illusion that the prey was in a position of power over the one who had formerly been hunting it, lion one, who was now being trounced by lion two... to the mind of the prey, this instead resembles some forgery of temporary alliance, the prey becomes amused, even exuberant that not only are they out of trouble, but now.... they are in some control. Underneath this, they still worry about the second lion, and presumably back off slowly, but in an even /more/ ideal arrangement, where they had all the control to begin with, such as you befouling the toil of the fishermen here while they unwittingly had no recourse, or so you assumed, it offered pleasure beyond this, which served to validate your sense of personal power over those on the pier.... up until I outdid you. Then, it was no longer fun, because you became the loser.... I /did/ see the negatively-charged expression on your countenance, at least on the onset, and it was not a positive one demonstrating you were complacent, or even favorable in lieu of my usurpation." He cocks an eyebrow, trying to stress the legitimacy of this observation of his, and drive home the notion that her fun was fun for her, and not necessarily so for others. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     Never before has Finna met someone who will speak to such great lengths towards a stranger - perhaps a stranger who had even annoyed them. And though annoying Ineryon has, at most, simply amused her - she does her best to listen politely. Eyes wide, bright, and alert, and ears perked, she stands while leaning in slightly... and slowly, through the explanation, shows a sly and increasingly smug grin.     "In short, being on top's all fun and games until something punches you in the nose. Oh yes, I know that. I guess that begs the question of, between us, which lion's won out? All the prey seem to've scurried off!"     Finna rises up to a full standing, poses coyly, then... TWIRLS about! Silvery light flows from her skin and solidifies into a somewhat skimpy leather attire that's quite like the outfit a northern tribal huntress might wear... but stripped down to make it far, far better in warmer climates. And stylish enough to draw the eye.     This girl has no body shame whatsoever.     "Also, lighten up a little. Fifty breaths of philosophy over a fish and opinion nitpicking's a bit much! Don't speak to people much, hm?"     Now smiling brightly, all the previous mischief gone from her expression, she folds both hands behind her back and tilts her head while her tail starts wagging idly! 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon Valos shakes his head when she asks which lion won out, and he remarks, "I had never presumed to take up the mantle of the lion to begin with, as my objective was not 'fun', or 'power'. My ambition was to unveil what precipitated all those strange phenomena that had resulted in the deprivation of others collecting their nutritional dues, as well as my own."      Then again, he's failed to be open to the possibility that some of those present were sport-fishermen, trying to outsmart the fish they hunted, which to them was exciting, in essence, making them hypocrites to have any reservations as to the entitlements of Finna to pull the joke that she did. This drow assumed the people were fishing for food, and would've been disappointed if he'd learned that probably half of them were fishing for sheer joy, and not strictly survival purposes! Such is the mindset of the dark elf who Staren had initially pegged as some sort of 'robot'; practicality was all that mattered to Ineryon, so it was that he automatically assumed, until proven wrong, that others were more interested in utilitarianism! Out on the pier, unlike in Baron Valos' dark chasm, it was not a dogfish-eat-dogfish world. Lifting the bucket, he cants his head, in the direction of the container, "...My prey."      As if to say 'HA, my prey didn't escape', except while delineating the guise of one being falsely modest, by showing hardly any expression filled with pride or smugness. Another intriguing thing about Ineryon was that he had no concept of 'shame' as far as revealing one's body, whereas, on the contrary, he was more interested in Finna's ears and tail than her lack of 'appropriate' attire! "How is it that you evolved to have those ears, yet, you are able to remain underwater for such a duration? Do you have non-subdivided lung sacs like the hippopotamus? I cannot see how a mammal can stay under water so long without specially designed lungs for extended suspension....."      It didn't make sense to him that she'd have ears and a tail in the form they took, which were hardly streamlined! 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     "Oh pft, they're just here to relax and blow off steam! People in this world come across fod pretty easily, haven't you noticed?" Finna can't help but laugh at Ineryon's misunderstanding! The foxy tail starts wagging faster as glee at his consternation shows on her face. ... or at least, amusement!     "But enjoy what you caught, sure. As for that...hehhhhhhh."     The smile turns almost... predatory here, as does the way she narrows her eyes. "So you can see them, can you?" Not only can he see them, but they sparkle silvery in the slightest light despite the white fur...     "Ssssshhhhhh, the other people around here've not figured it out yet! These fuzzy ears are a mark of my goddess' favor. No, I don't have lungs like THAT, but..."     With a moment of concentration, she manages to do something weird.     Gills open on her neck, briefly... then close just as fast. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon's brows adopted several creases upon hearing that folks were fishing to relieve stress, which to the dark alien, was a totally alien concept-- or rather, not something he hadn't heard of before, yet it /was/ something he didn't approve thereof. As if people didn't have short enough lives, they had to stymie productivity by engaging in behaviors that didn't prove purely functional? However, to people.... having fun was a functional endeavor due to anxiety being a source of anguish that could slow progress, but, on the other hand, Baron Valos would have considered the expenditure of resources as well as time to marginalize tension to be a medium of squandering. "Ah... How unfortunate that people must lack the introspection which is needed to fund a purge of emotional toxins that accumulate in their system from the 'daily grind', as it has often been referred to; what I mean to say is, there are ways of conserving energy, and fixing a problem simultaneously, rather than throwing around gobs money, or resources, in order to recharge one's batteries."      He strums the side of his cheek, in consideration of the problem at hand, "What causes uneasiness at the end of a day's labor is rooted in one's mismatched ideological worldview, versus the materialization of the world that is...." The drow nibbles a tad more on his fish, and resumes, "Everyone, in their mind... has an image of themselves as they 'should' be, in the ideal... an image of what they fear becoming, or what they actually are, at the present, and none of these ever match up, I guarantee!" He nods, "Thus is the same with the world,... they have perceptions of a perfect world, versus a dystopia, versus the world that they live in." The dark nobleman grins, revealing edgy incisors, "Over the course of a day, one measures how close they themselves lived up to their expectations of their idealization of themselves, or how they veered towards the realm of failure, which taxes their reserves, causing guilt or pride. At the same time, they do an assessment on whether the world around them met their expectations, or demonstrated itself to be faulty, and insufficient." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      From here, Lord Valos bobs his head from side to side, "On particularly 'bad' days, a person both encounters problems the environment provided that caused them stress, in addition to having amassed unfulfilled accomplishments which demonstrate to oneself that in spite of whatever happened, they /still/ ended up acting unskillfully... Anger towards the world, and shame towards oneself-- one despises the world." Finishing off his seafood morsel, "Then again, if one overcomes a problem, the world may have evidenced itself to be inferior, but the victor thinks themselves all the greater because they rose above, and acted admirably. Beyond all this, one has days where things go their way, in light of also achieving, so one feels they've made progress towards their ideal self, and they may invest in the view that the world has shown itself to be worthwhile; either of these are 'good' days." Pointing at Finna, Ineryon remarks, "....In essence, all one has to do to truly 'blow off steam' is to manually re-calibrate their perceptions of self and environment to being more realistic, instead of clinging desperately to optimistic beliefs of what the universe's contents /could/ amount to, in sum, which would then allow them to appraise their situation differently, to the point that almost all things are better or worse than absolutely nothing."      The nobleman nods his head, "Which, obviously, brings one to the bottom line-- non-existence is the most balanced contingency that could be, even though non-existence would not be, since, to be, is a state of being, and non-existence is a state of not-being." With the appearance of the ears, Ineryon widens the opening of one eyelid every so subtly, implying that he wasn't expecting what he saw, in defiance of the fact that it wasn't so peculiar that it was outside the realm of all reason, ".....The... Aquatic-Ape Theory... has merit?" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     BUH.     That about sums up the expression Finna's developing bit by bit through Ineryon's speech. Shoulders drooping, mouth gaping wider, ears flattening... her tail even stops wagging. It's clear that Ineryon's words are definitely having an effect.     But as before, it's quite a bit before she replies. If nothing else, she does ponder on her answer. She even rubs at her chin.     "You could make an amazing scholar. NO doubt about it! ...because like them, I'm having a terrible time keeping up with your words.... umm... in short, you're saying.... thatb lowing off steam is silly, that people should just tough through it, that a lot of people's problems stem from having the wrong expectations..."     If anyone with magical senses is paying attention, Finna's consuming a great deal of it as she rubs at her forehead, putting her thoughts into overdrive to try and process this speechbomb.     "... The what theory...? Uhhh... I don't know... but thinking about what you said, you've got a problem, don't you? To launch into a speech like that at a stranger... about such complicated stuff... you must not know anyone who can understand you, huh?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:''' When Finna began to become fatigued from trying to slog through Ineryon's spiels, he could mildly decipher a change in her mana levels, causing him to grimace a touch. Finally, he arises-- both of them are beginning to tire, although Finna more noticeably so; the dark lord grunts, "What I am saying, is.... All things that can experience sensations both positive or negative have a problem, because the likelihood is that if something has the capacity to experience good as well as bad, they will, until they are no further."      This was a pretty straight-forward explanation, for a fellow like the baron. Shaking his head, Ineryon sighed, "The agenda behind describing the nature of pain and pleasure was to facilitate your comprehension of the very viable possibility that the people here were being wasteful, and that had they been reacting to their problems in a pragmatic fashion, they'd've sought to re-align their internal structure, which is from whence all anxiety emerges. When there is no mind, there is no stimuli that is perceivable, thus, when there is a mind, and an atmosphere full of conditions which do not cater to the desires contrived by the mind, the mind recognizes this as incongruence."      He starts to walk away, picking up his pail with fish still contained inside, "....Ergo, why find roundabout media of resolving the problem via temporary bandages, instead of fixing the interior wiring, which perceives the mismatch from the onset?" All he was really doing was justifying his contempt for all life, and more so for the fishermen who didn't behave as studiously as Ineryon believes they should've, in that 'perfect world' he'd just mentioned-- which he consequently concluded, could never earnestly comet to pass. Looking over his shoulder at Finna, the dark elf scoffs, "...Bleh. There are those who interpret my words properly, but have such lack of hope for a brighter non-future that they are consumed by the dealings of this plane, trying to scavenge off of anything or anyone that they can take advantage of, to quench their thirsts, albeit temporarily. I am the hopeful one of my race, who thinks there may yet be an antithesis to that which is."      Chuckling lightly, he slaps his knee, and faces forward now as he continues to walk away, bound to leave the woman to her devices lest she follow, "....And there I go, both condemning and also subscribing to idealism, in the very same oration.... This.... is why I was banished.... yes...." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     "Hah...hahahahaha...." Ineryon actually chuckling - showing that he at least understands humor - gets Finna bursting into a weird, twisted bunch of giggling. She doesn't even bother bringing a hand up near her mouth at first, ut soon she's snorting into it... then bounding after Ineryon. "WELL YOU!"     And then, quick as the wind and just as light as it, she smooches him playfully on the cheek and BACKFLIPS into his path, hands behind her back and tailwagging. "So people stress out when the world doesn't match what they expect of it, hmmm? You're pretty silly. Trying to get what we want out of it, and having fun, that's what life's all about. Yooou're thinking too much. But ugh, I can't keep handling these crazy words you use... anyways... the name's Finna! Please don't tell me yours is as long as your speeches. I'd rather something I can remember!" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:''' Her snorting wasn't something that he'd expected to hear, which made him wonder if she was related to a pig? Right now Ineryon was at a loss for words as to what plethora of animals spawned her, yet in a place as diverse as the Multiverse, there were more plausible possibilities than in a place where evolution was consolidated within a singular solar system. Prompted by his premature departure, she gives him a peck on the cheek after halting his recession from the pier, then acrobatically bounced back so that he'd be unable to effectively bypass the woman without some effort.      "I'm not just referring to people. All organisms are situated in a certain location where conditions match their desires, or make things less preferable. A tree ends up growing near a shady outcropping that juts from a cliff, so it adapts by growing towards the sun. A big-horn ram finds that above the tree-line upon the peaks that there is not enough vegetation to feed upon, thus it treks into areas with more nourishment.... even if predators lurk about. A person sits in one position too long, and they decide to move something." He shrugs, "Pain most often precedes pleasure." /HOPING/ this is simplistic enough for the girl to convert into sensible information without causing an overload, Ineryon then accommodates furthermore by relinquishing a name, "Ineryon Valos.      Black sheep of the Valii." The drow shrugs indifferently, "Address me however you wish, but unless I've foreknowledge of what handle you intend to apply, you may find that garnering my attention could be more difficult, or less full of tedium." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:'''     "Ineryon... not the sort of name from around here, heh. Not that you look the part. Don't let me hold you if you've somewhere to go!" The girl then teases, waggling a finger.     Yes she's fully aware she just did that on him. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Looking sternly at Finna for a few instants, he says nothing about how he looks, whether his name is standard, or any of that stuff.... On the other hand, when she admits that she blocked him, he rolls his eyes; he'd suspected as much, but unlike some folks, he wasn't liable to pronounce a verdict of guilt unless innocence was first disproven.... and a confession was just that. Simply nodding to her, he side-steps the woman and continues on his way, hoping that she's less prone towards trying to meddle with his fishing technique on the next juncture where he elects to visit the pier. 

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