Difference between revisions of "Logs:Isforaith Joins the Party"

There's no preamble; Szadath is suddenly /there/, large and loud and demanding. « Yo, Isforaith! » His touch is cold, a breath of snow on an otherwise rainy evening. « You're coming, right? For treasure? » (Szadath to Isforaith)

To Szadath, Isforaith is a hiccup of stale beer among torrid fires, smoking and rife with an odd texture of steam - alcoholic steam. « Dunno, » comes the dismissive baritone, « What's in it for me? » A sarcastic undertone belies the belligerance of words, a brittle blue fire of annoyance coloring the flames of his mindvoice.

To Isforaith, Szadath's cold touch darkens with a ribbon of smoke. « Treasure, obviously. » As if this even needed to be said! « Adventure, too. But mostly treasure. And you can be on my team. » To the brown, clearly, these are all GREAT perks.

To Isforaith, Szadath's cold touch darkens with a ribbon of smoke. « Treasure, obviously. » As if this even needed to be said! « Adventure, too. But mostly treasure. And you can be on my team. » To the brown, clearly, these are all GREAT perks.

To Szadath, Isforaith ruffles a moment, his perpetual fires rifling higher and then smoldering low, as a bird's feathers after a bath. Obviously, this kind of thing takes time to consider. « I guess. Gotta keep you kiddos in line, anyhow, make sure y'don't go do damn fool things. » (Since Isforaith has a trademark on 'damn fool things' and would dislike it for anyone to infringe upon his copyright.)

A moment of echoing quiet, while Szadath contemplates Isforaith's lack of enthusiasm, but it must be deemed acceptable, because he roars back to full volume quickly enough. « Good! Taikrin says you can be in charge of the map. Zaxameth will be in charge of looking for things that are probably treasure, and we'll take care of the rest. » A plan, a plan! (Szadath to Isforaith)

To Szadath, Isforaith seems fine enough with that, sloshing whiskey over into the gap of the mindlink. « Works, » is his short response, as if he's preoccupied with something else. « When? » It's belated, the question; sudden, as if prodded out of him by a third party.

To Isforaith, Szadath has a similar hesitation, as he consults with Taikrin for the information. Finally, « We've got a restday scheduled day after tomorrow. Morning. Zaxameth is free too. Bring breakfast and whiskey. » His rhythms are unusually staccato as he spits out information, as if reading from a list of rules. « Good? »

To Szadath, Isforaith is silent another long moment, his fires jumping high at something-- /else/. « It'll do. Isz'll see yours before, to... » His baritone turns vague, almost dismissive, « ... see to some part of stupid paperwork. » Homework. Hidework. Maps. Something.

A low roar, Szadath's mental amusement, spikes at Isforaith's complaint. « She's here, whenever. Doing stuff. » Flash: Taikrin, hunched over a cluttered desk making marks all over what looks like a map. /Boring/. « Planning. So we find the treasure /fast/. Before anyone else. » (Szadath to Isforaith)

To Szadath, Isforaith has a measure of big-brother bemusement. « Yeah, kid. Just like that. » Patronizing? Isforaith? Never. A beer-belch and a flash of smoke and ash, and the blue's presence is receding. « Day after t'morrow. »

Thankfully, the fact that the bemusement is directed at /him/ goes right over Szadath's head. This time. « Great. See you there! » (Szadath to Isforaith)