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| − | Session Start: Sat Jun 28 13:37:58 2008
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| − | <14:21> [ST] A week passes, uneventfully if not quietly. In the Greenfields, the harvests continue, and each day more ships arrive to winter in Icehome's harbor. Each night, the snow falls a little more thickly, but it is still autumn snow, the poorly made and inconsequential flakes from Master Winter's forge. He's saving his best work for later.
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| − | <14:23> [ST] The city is abuzz with the story of the Anathema. It was hardly a thing that could be hidden, even if two dozen people had not been killed in the disaster at Madame Pearl's, including the owner herself. The festivity of the season seems muted. People go to bed earlier, and bolt their doors more securely, for whatever good it will do. Only the reports that the Anathema was spotting springing
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| − | <14:23> [ST] over the city walls quells the fear.
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| − | <14:24> [ST] The Realm does not have the resources in the city to investigate fully, though there is whispered talk of a report being filed. The Cynis Immaculate seems to have vanished entirely - reports credit her as still pursuing the Anathema. Nellens Ralinona, the city's resident Dragonblood, has asked perfunctory questions but does not appear overly concerned. Yet.
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| − | <14:31> [Avir] Avir spent days at home, soaking his burns in pungent and foul-smelling herbs the Watch's healers gave him. They had tut-tutted him, spoke of lucky breaks and minor injuries, but the damn thing hurt. His face ached constantly and his fingers were so stiff he had trouble flexing his hands. The things in the basement speak to him constantly; he is no longer sure of the line between waking and sleeping, for persuasive
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| − | <14:31> [Avir] whispers follow him even in his dreams.
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| − | <14:33> [Avir] At last, he decides he can endure no more, and takes refuge in the basement.
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| − | <14:37> [Miruna] After returning to camp, Miruna's pushing of himself caught up to him. The healer Annar bound his burned arm tightly with layers of wool and cloth, sealing in a sticky unguent made of mashed herbs and honey. He stayed in bed with a slight fever for two days, before declaring that he was well.
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| − | <14:37> [Miruna] The next day he was up and to market, buying flowers, insects, and powders to make fresh paints. The Scale was used to him occasionally going into retreat, as he did for the next day, obsessively peeling the last layer of paint from his armor and repainting each of the reinforcing metal plates.
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| − | <14:40> [Miruna] He returned to the Scale the next day, smiling and speaking little of the incident, nothing beyond what they had hjeard from the others there. Instead his armor spoke for him, the main breastplate showing the scene of the Anathema and Dragonblood confronting eachother in exacting detail, and the smaller plates covering other vital areas showing parables of The LAdy Who Reminds Us We Are Alive.
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| − | <14:41> [Miruna] It had been her work after all.
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| − | <14:42> [ST] As both Miruna and Avir return for a week's duty, they find a not entirely welcome note pinned to their personal storage lockers. They are to report to the office of Scalelord Soldas for immediate assignment.
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| − | <14:44> [Avir] Avir glances sidelong at Miruna's armor when they meet at the stairs. "Subtle," he comments. "The Realm surely won't notice." He smiles. His injuries have vanished entirely.
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| − | <14:45> [Miruna] He shrugs. "Rumors, others saw them. It won't stay quiet."
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| − | <14:45> [ST] The office itself is a smaller, more garish parody of Ironheart's, a room that should be comfortable but comes off as cramped. Expensive silken scrolls of former Haslanti glories cover the walls. An ornamental hookah stands in the corner. There are no chairs save the one behind the desk where Soldas reclines. The Scalelord is young, skinny, and pale, with a disheveled and dispirited shock of
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| − | <14:45> [ST] dark hair. Dark circles nestle under his eyes.
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| − | <14:46> [ST] As Miruna and Avir file in, they note that they are not alone. Three others stand before the desk.
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| − | <14:46> [Miruna] His right arm is still bandaged, but he had long since stopped wrapping his hand, preferring a bit of pain to the annoyance. His skin was pink and raw, what wasn't still flaking.
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| − | <14:47> [Miruna] He slaps a fist to his breast. "Sir. Reporting."
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| − | <14:48> [ST] Springing Elk, looking mostly mended from the trauma of a week past, raises a hand in greeting. Beyond him is the oddly mismatched figure of Two-Bits, her bad side showing. And beyond her is Leopard. The Djala is little larger than a child.
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| − | <14:48> [Avir] "A little of Master Winter's comfort, eh sir?" Avir says sympatheticaly. It is difficult to gauge his sincerity. He smirks at Miruna. "Likewise- reporting."
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| − | <14:49> [ST] "Yes, yes, and late as well," Soldas snaps. "You've kept your comrades and I waiting long enough."
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| − | <14:49> [Miruna] He nods quietly to the others present after greeting his commander with proper courtesy. Their scale could use a bit more military formality, but few were willing to give it with their current commander. Well, all the more reason, and he would show it for them.
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| − | <14:50> [ST] "An unpleasant season altogether, it looks like. Anathema sighted. Haslanti businesses burned. Calibration less than two weeks away." the scalelord looks visibly agitated.
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| − | <14:51> [ST] "All this and they want a fang of troops to investigate a heap of nonsense so rotten I can smell it from here."
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| − | <14:52> [ST] He rifles through the papers on his desk seemingly at random. It's a gesture calculated to look impressive more than anything else.
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| − | <14:53> [ST] "The airboats brought a message in this morning. There's a disturbance in one of Icehome's outlying Emeralds."
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| − | <14:53> [ST] He looks down again, a little more purposefully. "Tanstaad."
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| − | <14:54> [ST] "An infant has vanished. Several villagers have been assaulted by an unknown attacker. Even the wounded have died."
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| − | <14:55> [Avir] "Huh. Poison?"
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| − | <14:57> [ST] He shrugs. "The report says only that the wounds festered and would not heal. It could be poison, if it's anything. You know how the Outwallers exaggerate. Like as not one of their number has lost his head and is going around cutting people up, if anything. It's hardly a job for the Once Dead."
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| − | <14:57> [Miruna] "Unknown? Anyone see it, or they're all dead?"
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| − | <14:59> [ST] "No description in the report. Apparently the wounded victims were too traumatized-" he coughs. "Or too moronic to take note of their attacker. In any case, if rumors about this proliferate, it could damage the League's reputation. The five of you will need to investigate the problem."
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| − | <14:59> [ST] "If, as I highly doubt, it's worth bothering with, correct it."
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| − | <15:01> [Avir] Avir frowns, but gives him a sketchy salute. "We'll look into it." If it were supernatural in origin- even if it were just a lunatic- it would likely get worse until Calibration.
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| − | <15:02> [Miruna] He nods. It sounded worth bothering with to him, but no reason to mention that.
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| − | <15:04> [ST] "Frankly, the very vagueness of the report makes me believe that it is not genuine. If this were the work of the Fair Folk, it would be obvious. If it were the work of Magdala or the Three Bitches, no one would still be alive. Still..." He shrugs. "Someone demands answers." He looks over the group, as if weighing his next decision.
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| − | <15:07> [Miruna] He waits stolidly, knowing the commanders love of what he considered dramatic pauses.
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| − | <15:08> [ST] "Springing Elk will command the fang."
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| − | <15:08> [ST] Elk starts. "Sir, I'm not- that is-"
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| − | <15:09> [ST] "Do you question my decision?" His eyes roam the group. "Do any of you question my decision?"
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| − | <15:09> [Miruna] He tries to disguise his proto-outburst under a cough. Noone would mistake what he had almost done, but propriety was maintained.
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| − | <15:09> [Avir] Avir bites his lip to keep from laughing. He shakes his head, not trusting his voice.
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| − | <15:10> [ST] Leopard has no eyebrows to raise, but his eyes do widen a bit. Two-Bits is unreadable. All keep silent.
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| − | <15:10> [ST] "Good. Excellent. You'll need to board this evening's airboat to Bertran's Ford. From there, outriders should be able to take you to the Emerald."
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| − | <15:10> [ST] Soldas claps sharply.
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| − | <15:10> [Miruna] His face is black murder. This was a direct insult to him. Perhaps Soldas felt threatened by his reputation.
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| − | <15:10> [ST] "Dismissed!"
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| − | <15:13> [Miruna] He gives a scant bow, and stomps out with the others. Still, some of them don't bother with that much.
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| − | <15:14> [Avir] Avir nods and slips out the door. As the door falls shut behind them, he nods at Springing Elk. "With your agreement, sir," his voice lingers ironically over the word, "perhaps Miruna had better take, ah, field command." Elk wouldn't do, Avir wasn't trusted, but Miruna was experienced and not likely to embrace the command of anyone else.
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| − | <15:15> [ST] "A-All right," Elk says as the group files out into the hall. "We should meet back up at the airboat this evening. Do whatever you want until then." At Avir's suggestion, he looks visibly relieved. "Yes... perhaps... that... that might be a good idea. Dismissed." He virtually bolts away, footfalls loud and heavy as he hurries down the hall.
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| − | <15:16> [ST] "They say Autumn Frost protects fools and their charges," Leopard says, watching him go. "Here's hoping."
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| − | <15:16> [ST] "Give him a chance," Two-Bits counters, but even she sounds doubtful.
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| − | <15:18> [Miruna] He shakes his head slightly. "Boy's in command." Not that he wouldn't stick his hand in if it needed it. He was angry, not so much that he should have commanded, although he should, but that the man had decided on Elk as a commander, a public insult to Miruna, selecting one of no experience to command a fang that he was clearly the appropriate commander for.
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| − | <15:18> [Avir] Avir laughs. "Did you piss in Trembleshanks ale, Miruna?"
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| − | <15:18> [Miruna] He shrugs. "Not yet."
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| − | <15:19> [ST] "I could've lived the rest of my life happily without seeing another Emerald," Two-Bits remarks.
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| − | <15:20> [ST] "Yeah, well, I should be a big hit," Leopard says. "A free sideshow."
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| − | <15:23> [Avir] "If they're not too terrified to notice."
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| − | <15:30> [Miruna] He broods for a moment, then gets up and follows Elk. They'd need to sort this out, man to man. Besides, he wanted to ask him for a favor.
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| − | <15:32> [ST] Miruna catches up to Elk just outside the Once Dead's headquarters (sometimes jokingly referred to as the Tomb). The young man looks shaken, although he seems brave enough in the face of danger.
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| − | <15:33> [ST] "Miruna," he says as the other man draws close. "I didn't mean... it wasn't my decision. I don't WANT to do this."
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| − | <15:35> [Miruna] "Aye, not your fault lad. I know. You'll do fine." He says the words heavily, with a scowl, not that he notices its affects on Elk. "Just be ready to listen to council."
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| − | <15:36> [ST] "I'm good enough at what I do, but I wasn't expecting..." he shakes his head. "I don't want to get anyone killed. I'll listen."
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| − | <15:38> [Miruna] "Soldas put you up, that how it'll be, yeah? Now, do me a favor, eh?" He leans in, catching the young man by the shoulder. He doesn't loom over him, infact Elk is the taller of the two, but his bulk imposes itself. "We should walk to the airship as a unit. Official. To show that Icehome is taking care of the problem." He grins.
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| − | <15:39> [ST] Elk nods, not quite grasping the import. "Fine with me. I'll- give the order."
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| − | <15:39> [Miruna] He slaps his shoulder. "Good lad."
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| − | <15:40> [Miruna] "Go tell the others, now." He pushes him slightly towards the room they had been lounging in, and then walks off to get his equipment together. Perhaps he'd have time for a bit of painting.
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| − | <15:46> [Miruna] The five of them make quite a show, Two-bits given the battle-flag, and the rest kitted up in fine gear. Elk walks out front, but somewhat timid. Rather than appearing to lead, he seems to be clearing the way for Miruna behind.
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| − | <15:47> [Miruna] They cut directly through the markets, on a path to the sky-fields, but normally avoided. It is a rough parade, suited to the Haslanti, Icehomers slapping their shoulders, and yelling bawdy jokes at them.
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| − | <15:47> [Miruna] Miruna smiles behind his helmet. He enjoyed this sometimes, although he was glad that people seldom recognized him outside his armor.
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| − | <15:51> [Miruna] He hadn't had time to change much, it still sported the Dragonblood's deathbattle (though no mention of the death), and his helmet still bore a triptych of the Triad of Ice, but he had repainted a shoulderplate - Soldas stood over a barren plot, the symbology referencing a tale of Lady Chimney Draft teaching a farmer hospitality by blight.
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| − | <15:52> [ST] And behind a high window, Nellens Ralinona looks down at the procession, noting the painted scene of battle and pressing a forefinger to her lips in thought...
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| − | <15:53> [Avir] Avir trails after Miruna and Springing Elk, torn between amusement and dismay at the pagentry. He had been stuck carrying a banner. Two-Bits walked stoutly beside him with the matched pair. Avir smiles at her. She frowns at him until he schooled his expression into proper impassivity. This was Miruna's show. He glances at the back of the Painted Knight. The man's pride was tender.
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| − | <15:54> [ST] It's early evening by the time the group gathers around the Icehome Airfield. There are spires in the city where the great airboats can tie off if need be, but most arrive here, a broad, grassy plain some two miles east of the city, with a collection of small buildings for offloading goods and collecting tolls. As the group arrives, they can see that their airboat, the Brilliant Wind, is
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| − | <15:54> [ST] taking on supplies.
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| − | <15:54> [ST] The vessel is one of the First Class Airboats, with a huge gasbag over 200 feet long and enough cargo space for 20 tons of goods. The captain stands on deck, barking out orders to air sailors carrying casks of salt pork.
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| − | <15:54> [ST] http://img58.imageshack.us/my.php?image=airboatjv6.jpg
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| − | <15:55> [ST] The Captain, Harn, shouts out a brief challenge but only nods his head and waves the Once Dead on once Elk flashes his skull badge
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| − | <15:55> [ST] The trip will take only a few hours, and so no cabins have been prepared. The Once Dead are ushered to a row of cushioned benches on neck. The seating is comfortable enough, although the emergency catch straps located nearby may raise an eyebrow.
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| − | <15:55> [ST] "Great," Leopard remarks dubiously, testing one of the straps by pulling on it. "I'd enjoy these things if they didn't fly."
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| − | <15:57> [Avir] "Be more patriotic," Avir tells the foreigner, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. "These things are the pride of Haslanti." His rusack is wedged tight between his legs.
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| − | <15:58> [ST] "Besides, Leopard, I thought Djala liked heights," Two-Bits adds, sitting next to Avir. "You were an acrobat, weren't you?"
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| − | <15:59> [ST] "I was a tumbler," the Djala says, with false injury in his voice. "There's a difference."
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| − | <15:59> [ST] Elk sits next to him, closest to the railing of the ship, looking over without comment.
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| − | <15:59> [Miruna] Miruna wedges his pack in, and then moves to one of the sailing attendants "Mind if I watch from the rail?" Flying over the snow and ice always reminded him of the nomadic lfe he'd led as a child. The pain of the icy wind on his cheek kept him from it for long, but he liked to enjoy it when he could.
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| − | <16:00> [ST] "Fine by me," the air sailor says. "Just don't slip, it's a long way down."
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| − | <16:00> [ST] Soon the ship is loaded, but does not yet take off. "We're waiting for one last passenger," Harn explains. A less harsh and demanding man might sound apologetic.
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| − | <16:00> [Miruna] He smiles, nodding.
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| − | <16:01> [ST] "There!" A crewmember shouts, and a figure races across the open grass to the ship, waving a hand frantically. Even from this distance, the conical red cap that marks him as a Dreamseer is very visible.
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| − | <16:01> [ST] As he clambers aboard, apologizing, one can see that he's not an old man - perhaps thirty. He moves to sit with the Once Dead as crewmen take their positions belowdeck, pedaling frantically. The tow lines are cut, and the airboat rises serenely into the sky, propellers humming.
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| − | <16:01> [ST] The airboat turns lazily and begins moving west as the Greenfields shrink below.
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| − | <16:01> [Miruna] He goes back to his seat to wait for the last passenger, no sense being in the wind when all they could see was the ground tens of feet below.
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| − | <16:02> [ST] "Well met, brothers and sisters," the Dreamseer says, taking a seat. "I am Kragos. The Dreamseer." As if the last fact weren't obvious.
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| − | <16:02> [Avir] Avir opens his eyes to look the newcomer over. "Well met."
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| − | <16:03> [ST] The airboat picks up speed, moving out over the stark coast. The Greenfield shrinks behind, vanishing. Soon only bare beaches and herd lands pass by below, uniformity broken only by an occasional herd of reindeer or elk.
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| − | <16:04> [ST] "I am bound for the Southern Emeralds," Kragos says conversationally. "Some of them have not seen a Dreamseer in many years."
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| − | <16:06> [ST] "There are never enough of us, it seems."
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| − | <16:06> [Avir] "That must be a hardship for them," Avir said, his expression difficult to read. When the Once Dead discussed their dreams, Avir's were always carefully nondescript- or as nondescript as dreams were among the Once Dead, who were inclined by profession to the morbid.
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| − | <16:06> [Miruna] He wedges his helmet unde rhte seat a bit harder, making sure it wouldn't fall out from the rest of his kit. He had kept the heavy woolen scarf that he used for padding wrapped round his head. His scar did not do waell with the cold wind, so he kept it covered.
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| − | <16:07> [ST] "Interpretation of dreams can be done by anyone properly touched by the Owl Out of the East," Kragos says humbly, but he smiles. "However, training does help. Where are you bound?"
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| − | <16:09> [Avir] "Tanstaad. Do you know it?"
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| − | <16:09> [Miruna] "To the Emerald Tanstaad. We are to correct a disturbance." With a dreamseer journeying with them, he is making an effort to speak more clearly, and has decided to sty with the others rather than leaving to watch them fly. Somehow it would seem rude to the Seer.
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| − | <16:10> [ST] He thinks for a moment. "Only in passing. It's a young Emerald. Some fifteen or twenty years settled. Mostly by the refugees out of the Forsaken Green created by Magdala's raids."
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| − | <16:12> [ST] "A disturbance... nothing serious, I hope."
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| − | <16:13> [Avir] "Difficult to say," Avir shrugs. "There have been deaths. We'll look into it."
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| − | <16:14> [Miruna] He nods, grim. "No wonder they are scared."
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| − | <16:15> [ST] "Death is nothing new... it's not an easy life we lead. Still... I have sensed a foreboding in the dreaming lately. I hope this is not connected."
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| − | <16:16> [Avir] "Winter is coming..."
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| − | <16:16> [Miruna] "Foreboding, could you tell us more?" Two-bits was pale. She wouldn't like talk of dream forbodings.
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| − | <16:17> [ST] Leopard doesn't speak, but the look of doubtful disdain that flits across his face is hard to miss.
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| − | <16:18> [ST] The Dreamseer doesn't notice it. "I would not trouble you, brothers and sisters. I have a recurring dream... of the sun rising in the east."
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| − | <16:18> [ST] "It tends to do that," Leopard remarks.
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| − | <16:19> [ST] "Indeed. But there is more. The sun rises, though it is the depths of winter. It shines brightly, and the land becomes green, and full of life. Crops spring from the snow. The people are prosperous. They are not afraid."
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| − | <16:19> [Miruna] Miruna glares at him. He'd make allowances for foriegners, and Leopard had been a good comrade, but he would suffer if he insulted the Dreamseer.
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| − | <16:20> [ST] "But the sun grows larger, hotter. The people fall, stricken, sweating, begging for mercy. The gods do not answer. The sun grows hotter, and the fields burn. The cities burn. Creation burns, until all is ashes."
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| − | <16:21> [ST] "I have had this dream three times three. Just as our triad. It is a bad omen."
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| − | <16:22> [Miruna] He flexes his burned hand. "That is an ill omen."
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| − | <16:23> [Miruna] He hunches over slightly, staring at Elk's feet across from him on the benches, brooding.
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| − | <16:23> [Avir] "Troubling," Avir agrees. In spite of himself, he remembers the golden glowing man. He had been near blinded from the glare, had near pissed himself in terror. The creature might have been such a sun. He flexes his fingers.
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| − | <16:24> [ST] "Yes. I will not bring this to the Southern Emeralds. They have problems enough." He shakes his head.
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| − | <16:24> [Miruna] "Have you seen it this past week?" Perhaps they were doubly lucky that that Dragon was dead.
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| − | <16:26> [ST] "No. Two weeks past. My dreams this week are different. A knife, wet with blood. The baying of a dog. A maiden with a bright smile. Shackles in the dark. And..." He pauses, a smile on his face. "A man with a broken cart, chance met on the road. Yes."
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| − | <16:27> [ST] He looks at the Once Dead still smiling. "Yes. Chance met travellers. It is a sign. I will aid you, if you will allow it."
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| − | <16:27> [ST] "I travel South on the morrow with outriders from the Elk tribe. Come with us. Let us take you to your Emerald."
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| − | <16:27> [ST] "It is on our way."
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| − | <16:28> [Avir] Avir inclines his head respectfully. "We are honored."
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| − | <16:29> [Miruna] He hesitates. The airship was taking them there, far faster that travelling with the nomads. And they had orders. But he was loathe to ignore the Dreamseers request.
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| − | <16:30> [Miruna] "Did the knife have a craved bone handle?" It was the only way, obliquely, to ask if the dreams had been directly connceted to the Anathema brawl. If they were, they couldn't leave him.
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| − | <16:31> [ST] "Horn." The Dreamseer answers.
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| − | <16:34> [ST] The airboat moves west as night deepens. A cluster of herdfolk tents passes quickly by below.
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| − | <16:34> [Miruna] He nods, troubled, and then catches Elk's eye. "We cannot but accept his offer."
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| − | <16:34> [ST] Elk nods. He has sat quietly throughout the exchange, perhaps intimidated by the presence of a Dreamseer. "It is appreciated, honored seer."
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| − | <16:35> [Miruna] He wished he could talk to the Dreamseer more closely about the Anathema, but he could not bend his orders so far. Perhaps he would dream about it. No man could complain if he sought explanation from him then.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:38> [Avir] Avir settles back and closes his eyes again. If he is troubled by dreams in his sleep, he does not speak of them later.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:38> [ST] "If none of you desire a dream reading," Kragos says. "I will take my rest."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:39> [Miruna] "Later I would welcome it, but I would not disturb your rest."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:40> [ST] "Appreciate the offer," Leopard says. "But I need to make some before I can tell them." The Djala curls up, his small frame barely taking up room on the bench, and dozes off. Beside Avir, Two-Bits pulls her knees up to her chin. In only minutes, she is fast asleep, slumping over on Avir obliviously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:40> [ST] Kragos leans back, resting his head against the hard surface of the chair and falling instantly asleep with practiced ease. Elk sits and stares over the railing at the countryside below.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:43> [Miruna] Miruna gets up, to stand at the railing till the pain stopped him. He pats Elk's shoulder in passing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:43> [ST] Elk does not look up, lost in his own thoughts. The airboat pushes west, outracing the sun.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:45> [ST] The rosy glow of dawn appears in the east as the airboat stops over the trade town of Bertran's Ford. It rests within a sheltering valley, but it's more of an upjumped Emerald than a proper greenfield. Only a few fields and orchards fit within its confines. The two thousand people who call the Ford home eat mostly from the sea.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:46> [ST] The airboat skims low over the town and doubles back, slipping smoothly down to land on a broad, muddy patch of earth that serves as the airfield. So skilled is Harn's piloting that the gentle jostle of the airboat hitting the ground is the first the sleepers know of the landing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:46> [ST] Leopard rouses himself with a yawn, stretching small limbs as he rises. "Didn't sleep bad," he remarks. "Considering."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:48> [Avir] Avir wakes to find Two-Bits drooling gently on his front shirt, her head tucked under his chin. He pushes her delicately upright, and she wakes, yawning, as Avir surreptiously wipes the front of his shirt.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:49> [ST] "Morning," Two-Bits manages, rising with difficulty. Elk sits in the same position that he was in when the others slept, and rises more slowly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:50> [ST] Kragos wakes from slumber with hardly a start, seemingly refreshed. "Good morning. I hope your sleep was bountiful."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:50> [Miruna] Miruna rouses himself with the others. "Snowshoe grace us."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:51> [Avir] Avir shrugs. "Well enough," he lies. He had been plagued by nightmares. He digs through his pack for a few moments, largely to ascertain its passenger remained where it should be, and removes a comb.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:51> [ST] "With your permission, I would postpone the dreamtelling until we meet with the Elk folk. They may have dreams of their own." Kragos rises, sniffing. "Perhaps the meat this vessel was carrying has gone off."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:52> [ST] The faintest odor of rotten meat ebbs over the group, then fades. Maybe it was harder to notice in the wind.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:53> [Miruna] He shrugs. "We would be honored to share our stores with you," he offers, ignoring that Elk technically held command of them. He would agree,
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:54> [ST] "I would not gladly offend the Elk folk by breakfasting without them," Kragos remarks. "They should be near. In fact-" He points. "There they are."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:55> [ST] At the edge of the muddy field, ten Elk wait, each saddled with a rider. They're little more than featureless shapes at this distance.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:58> [Miruna] He pushes himself up. "Lets go to greet them. Shall we escort you?" he asks the Dreamseer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:59> [Avir] Avir slings his sack over his shoulder and tromps through the mud to the Elk. He glances at Springing Elk. "Any relation?" he asks as they walk.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <16:59> [ST] "My people are of the Great Ice," Elk says. is voice is strangely listless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:00> [ST] The captain waves a brief goodbye, mostly for the Dreamseer's sake. He and his crew are totally absorbed with unloading cargo.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:01> [ST] The elk riders are all tribal people, with the lean, muscled frames of Outwallers. Most seem tough and wary. At their head is a young man with a pair of long, dark, intricate braids. As the group draws near, he raises a hand in greeting.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:03> [Avir] Avir raises a hand in answer, but saves his breath. He's already breathing a little heavily. Damn pack was heavy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:04> [ST] "Well met," he says. "I am Rondvar the Quick, of the Elk tribe. These are my companions." And he names them, one by one. Last, he gestures to the girl that rides the elk beside him. Her hair is as dark as his, styled similarly. She can't be older than fourteen or fifteen. "And this is Jakka, my sister. It is her first outride. She wanted to see a Dreamseer."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:04> [Miruna] Miruna waits for the Dreamseer to introduce himself, respecting his precidence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:05> [ST] "Well met," Kragos returns. "I hope I do not disappoint." The girl giggles. "These are my companions. From Icehome. They should travel with us, as far as the Tanstaad Emerald." The Dreamseer speaks softly, but with an authority that says he is not to be questioned.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:06> [ST] Rondvar nods, his eyes falling on Miruna. "The painted warrior," he says. "We are doubly honored. The rest of you must be noble indeed, to be in such company."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:07> [Avir] Avir smiles sourly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:08> [ST] "We should set out immediately," Rondvar says. He looks at the newcomers a trifle dubiously. "Can you ride?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:08> [Miruna] He returns the deep nod, and introduces himself formally. "I am Miruna, it will be good to travel with you." His Northern Tribal accent sounds less awkward here, out on the ice with their breath steaming around their heads.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:10> [ST] "No," Leopard says. "But you should be able to throw me over a saddle easy enough. I'm light."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:10> [ST] Two-Bits also shakes her head, and within moments both they and Elk find themselves riding double behind another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:10> [Avir] "No," Avir says uneasily, eyeing the huge mounts. He smiles winningly at Jakka. "Perhaps you will be so kind...."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:12> [ST] "You may ride with me, stranger," Rondvar says, with stiff, forced politeness. Then. "Jakka, the seer will ride with you, unless he has objections." Her face brightens.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:13> [ST] "I am certain I am in good hands," Kragos says, clambering aboard.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:15> [Avir] It was likely inevitable. "I am called Avir," he says, climbing up behind the tribesman.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:16> [ST] Rondvar gestures quickly, and a woman leads up a riderless elk for Miruna to ride. He seems to assume the other knows how.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:16> [Miruna] Miruna looks slightly uncomfortable. "I grew up on the plains." It had been a long while.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:16> [Miruna] He swings himself up, determined not to embarass himself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:17> [ST] Miruna does a passable job, at least enough to earn him more respect than the other Greenfielders in this regard. Rondvar nods to the others wordlessly, and the company sets out. Sooner departed, sooner arrived.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:18> [ST] The Elk do not move quickly, but they are surefooted. The group skirts the edges of Bertran's Ford, striking out across the meager greenfields and then out onto the herdlands beyond. The elk riders distribute a breakfast of reindeer sausage and cheese, eating as they ride.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:18> [ST] They are not a people of many words, it seems, and Kragos is the first to speak up.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:18> [ST] "Shall we have a dreamtelling?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:19> [ST] "Aye," the tribespeople answer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:19> [ST] "I shall begin with those I started the day with," the Dreamseer continues. "Avir. Brother. Tell us of your dreams, that we may know the workings of the gods."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:22> [Avir] Avir could almost find it in himself to stab the man. "I remember only fragments," he lies. "I dreamed of my father. We ate a meal together, but the food was rotten. I dreamed of an archer, but what she did or what she said I do not recall."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:23> [ST] "You worry that your life with your father was a lie, but you hope that it was not. The archer is a symbol of warfare and conflict. A common enough symbol for a man in your position." Dreamseers usually consult a manual of symbols, but Kragos apparently does not need to.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:23> [Avir] There. That should be enough to satisfy the man. He grits his teeth as the elk jolts them over a fallen log. Maybe he should have invented an easy walk as well.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:24> [ST] "Miruna, brother. Tell us of your dreams, that we may know the workings of the gods."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:24> [Avir] Avir nods his thanks for the Dreamseer's wisdom.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:26> [Miruna] He sways in the saddle for a while, thinking of which to tell. "I had many, fevered," he rubs the arm holding his reins. It was healing well enough. "A few ravens were fighting a murder of crows, struggling for the rights to eat carrion over a forest." It had been the most troubling image of the night.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:29> [ST] "A raven. The symbol of soldiers, of battle and death. The crow, brother to the raven, scavenger. A forest... could mean a birth. A place of life. It could be only a forest. The carrion... static nature. Decay. A pointless struggle for a worthless goal. A troubling dream, brother." He pauses. "May it be only a warning, and not a portent. Leopard, brother. Tell us..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:30> [Miruna] He nods, brooding over the Seer's words.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:30> [ST] He goes on. Leopard dreamed of a beautiful woman with a dozen mouths. He may be pulling one over on the seer, but Kragos pronounces that he should fear the honeyed lies of a gorgeous woman. Two-Bits dreamed of a cat the color of milk. She wants a child. Elk dreamed of nothing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:30> [ST] "I did not dream," he says. "I did not sleep." The bags under his eyes attest to this.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:31> [ST] The Dreamseer questions the tribespeople. He remembers their names, having heard them but once. They have dreamed of fertility, good harvests, duplicitous lovers, lonely children and deceitful Greenfielders.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:32> [ST] Rondvar has dreamed of a wineskin that transformed into a serpent.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:32> [ST] "A difficult dream," Kragos remarks. "It is unclear to me. The dreaming is a complex thing, and not even the seers can always judge its symbols."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:33> [ST] Jakka is last. She blushes. "I dreamed," she says.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:34> [ST] "I dreamed I was in the family hut. I was playing with a doll. A leather doll, that my mother made. I was happy. Suddenly I felt a pain. There was a strong wind, and the hut blew away. I hurt, deep inside, and when I looked down, my thighs were wet with blood. I awoke. I... what does it mean?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:35> [ST] There is a moment of silence. Rondvar chuckles suddenly. Then another one of the tribespeople. Then another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:35> [ST] "Others," Kragos says gently over the laughter. "Are less complex."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:35> [ST] Jakka looks about, bewildered.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:36> [Avir] For the girl's sake, Avir keeps his smile off his face. Though she was little spared the amusement of her kin.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:36> [ST] "You are becoming a woman," the Dreamseer says. She reddens. "It is a thing to treasure."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:37> [ST] Nevertheless, the laughter continues, in fits and starts, for some time.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:37> [ST] The group winds south, moving through the herdlands at a steady clip. To the Greenfielders, it seems a desolate place, full of tangled grass and deadfalls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:38> [ST] The stunted trees rarely grow over ten feet tall, and brambles seem to be everywhere. The more experienced recognize the Outwall as a place where herds can graze and life can flourish, though many of the lands the group moves through are heavily depleted.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:39> [ST] If such depletion continues, the Outwall really will become lifeless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:40> [ST] It's a long day of travel. As Sol begins to kiss the horizon, Rondvar calls a halt and a hasty camp is made. Reindeer meat soon cooks on a spit over a fire. The smoke rises up in a long column, vivid against the twilight sky.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:42> [Avir] Avir ached. He sits near the fire in the hopes the heat would loosen his stiff muscles. He had grown noticeably more monosyllabic as the day continued. Now he is entirely silent.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:43> [ST] "How much further to the Tanstaad Emerald?" Two-Bits asks. She rubs her lower back and her ass in a manner most uncharming
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:43> [ST] "We should reach it by midday tomorrow, barring any difficulties." Rondvar answers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:43> [Miruna] Miruna shelters in his thick scarf. It had been a long time since he had ridden the Outwall, and the pain of the cold reminded him of why he had abandoned the life. ities suited him far better now. Still, it was good to eat spitroasted reindeer again, and to drink the mixture of elk blood and milk that they served with the meal.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:45> [Avir] "How close...are we to any shadowlands?" Avir asks, looking up from the blaze. He shouldn't forget his duties from mere weariness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:45> [ST] A pair of sentries move out to the perimeter of the camp, to receive their meals later. The others gather around the fire, and as the group eats, many of the old stories circulate. Tales of the Three Bitches. Folk stories. Jak o'the North stories. The stoic tribespeople come alive in the telling. One, Nimble Fox, draws laughter as he imitates a leaping rabbit.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:46> [ST] Rondvar sits near Avir, and answers his question beneath the revelry
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:46> [ST] "Several days' ride. The only one of any note is the Forsaken Green, and even it is small. We should be safe here. If that weren't the case... I never would've allowed Jakka to come with us."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:46> [ST] He scowls. "She is too young."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:49> [Avir] "I could ward the camp. It would not take any significant time..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:50> [ST] "You are a Greenfielder. What do you know of our magics?" He sounds equal parts curious and suspicious. He keeps one eye on Jakka, who is laughing as one of the Elk eats from her hand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:51> [Avir] "There are evils in the Greenfields as well. I was the apprentice of Thunder Wisdom."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:51> [Miruna] Miruna moves closer to the fire, and joins in the storyl=telling, acting out his old duels with foriegners in exaggerated style, vigorous motions making up for the thick, slurred words.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:52> [ST] Rondvar nods. "I did not mean to offend. My apologies. I am... uneasy."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:53> [Miruna] He had them laughing soon with his insulting imitation of a Realmsman's fencing style.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:54> [ST] "Of course you lot are uneasy," Leopard says, butting in. "It comes from living out in the middle of blizzard country in a bunch of bloody hu....ts..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:55> [ST] The Djala trails off, looking down at the quivering javelin that has embedded itself in his bicep.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:55> [ST] Another whistles out of the darkness, catching Two-Bits in the thigh. A third strikes Miruna's armor and bounces off.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:56> [Avir] Avir swears, reaching for his sword with one hand and a stick from the fire with his other. There is a sound of low laughter.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:57> [ST] "Attack!" Rondvar screams, rising, drawing his curved blade. "Jakka! Get over here NOW!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:57> [ST] Howls, wild and warbling, rise from the darkness on all sides.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:58> [Miruna] It knocks him over, as he had been carefully balanced miming dodging a sword-thrust. He yells an incomprehensible curse and dives for his mace.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:58> [Avir] Avir tosses the flaming piece of wood in his hand towards the howls. They'd be slaughtered if they couldn't even see their enemy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:59> [ST] "Up!" Elk shouts, seemingly to himself. Leopard rises beside him, pulling his sword forth with his good hands. Two-Bits staggers to her feet, javeling sprouting from her thigh. The other tribesmen move, drawing weapons. Kragos the Dreamseer fumbles for a knife, and Jakka falls back to his side to protect him, or herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <17:59> [Miruna] He scrambles up, mace and shield in hand, hair wild over and eyes blazing over the scarf still covering much of his face. The scene of the anathema is gouged already, a streak of clean steel chopping the Solar in half.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:00> [ST] Then, they come from the darkness, swarming, howling. Human in form if not shape. They are shaggy, heavily pelted, their faces elongated, distorted muzzles. Wolfmen.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:01> [ST] They charge, reckless, heedless, and soon the campfire becomes swirling chaos. Miruna, Avir, and Leopard find themseles isolated, menaced by a trio of wolfmen.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:01> [ST] Two carry vicious chopping axes. Behind them, a third, bigger, darker furred, wields a hammer with a massive rock head.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:01> [Avir] "Stomp!!" Avir yelps.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:09> [Avir] His short sword, light as it is, feels heavy as Avir lashes at wildly at the nearest wolfman. And he had been worried about ghosts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:11> [ST] The wolfman dances back, howling. Spittle flies from his muzzle, splashing Avir across the face. With a howl, he lunges, bringing his axe down at the other.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:13> [ST] His howls increase in fury as the other eludes him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:14> [ST] The other wolfman shakes its head, howling as well. The voice is higher pitched - perhaps it is a woman, though it is difficult to tell with beastfolk unless they are nursing. She springs at Miruna, bringing her axe down in a vicious overhand strike.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:16> [Miruna] Miruna raises his shield slightly, and take the blow his knees flexing as it strikes down solidly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:17> [ST] Flakes of paint fall on the snow as the Wolfman's axe trembles, caught in Miruna's shield.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:18> [ST] Yellow eyes narrow above a scarred, blood-flecked muzzle. The leader has tasted blood already this night, but not enough. He moves sideways, muscles tensing as he prepares a strike.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:18> [Miruna] The solid shield's rim had scrathed anoither streak through his breastplate. He grinned into his scarf, twisting the shield slightly, hoping to bind the axe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:20> [Miruna] At the same time, he brings his mace around in a broad stroke. It is wickedly functional, the head a long rounded cylinder of iron sporting eight sharpened flanges that curve out from the base of the head into points near its top.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:22> [Miruna] He aims for the wolfman's hip, hoping to catch it, or force it to leave its axe in his shield.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:27> [ST] There is a deep, brittle crunch as Miruna's mace bites deep. The wolfman's leg seems to collapse inward. She gives a howl of pain, staggering backward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:28> [ST] "Now that's what I like to see!" Leopard says. As the wolfman staggers back, he bends low, springing for her. He drops under the guard of her axe, rolling between her legs and stabbing upward with his blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:28> [Miruna] He strides forward, whooping the Scale's battlecry "Forthright!" THough it is almost unintelligible through both the scarf and adrenaline and his own troubled speech.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:29> [ST] Leopard's first thrust goes deeply into the vitals of the wolf creature. It stumbles forward, opening its muzzle to vomit forth a stream of hot blood, steaming in the air, then it falls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:31> [Avir] Avir crouches low and to the side, now that no wolfmen menace him directly. The male he'd wounded hangs back, baring its teeth. Avir sizes up the wounded wolfman, the length of his blade, and the hulking leader, and decides there's no help for it. He charges forward, shrieking, and as the wolfman leader brings its massive hammer around almost contemptuously to meet, he trips.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:33> [Avir] The hammer swoops through the space his head had occupied a moment before. On his knees, with gritted teeth, Avir slices at the creature's hamstrings. "Forthright," he mutters. "Right."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:36> [ST] Avir's blade should sheer through, but the creature's fur is thick, matted, its flesh tough. He opens only a weeping line. The hulking beast seems not to feel it. He lunges forward, massive warhammer coming around to strike at Leopard
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:37> [ST] The Djala rolls low under the first strike, but just as the smile starts to form on his face, he runs right into the second.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:40> [ST] The blow strikes the Djala in his lightly armored chest, driving steel links deeply into his flesh. He staggers, stunned, and the second hammers between his shoulderblades. The Djala drops like a broken toy, blood oozing from his ears.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:41> [ST] Wounded and embolded by the Djala's fall, the injured wolfman springs for Avir, axe flashing as it descends.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:44> [Avir] Avir rolls out of the way, and the axe buries itself in the pine needles an inch from his right hand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:47> [Miruna] He trudges forward, giving his mace a turn above his head before crashing it down at the Maul-wielding Wolfman, yelling wordlessly. He raises the bloody weapon again and slams it back down, beating through the perversion's defenses with brute strength.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:50> [ST] Miruna's first blow glances off the wolfman's bony kneecap. The second raps it directly on the muzzle. Yellowed teeth fly in a spray of blood. Yellow eyes narrow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:50> [ST] "Magdala will suck the marrow from your bones..." the thing growls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:53> [Avir] Hand clutched tight around his butcher's weapon, Avir scrambles to his feet and runs past the struggling pair, the axe-wielding close at his heels. "STOMP!" he shouts again, uselessly. He throws a handful of dirt at the thing and falls to his knees at Leopard's side. "Keep him off me!" he shouts to anyone who lsiten. His hands search the fallen Once Dead for signs of life - Twice Dead now, perhaps.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:54> [ST] Avir hurriedly binds Leopard's wounds, stopping the worst of the bleeding. The Djala does not respond.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:56> [ST] Avir gets no response, but he does smell the odor of rotting meat...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:57> [ST] The wounded Wolfman shifts back and forth like a dog running the length of a fence, uncertain. It settles finally on the occupied Avir, leaving a trail of blood in the snow as it advances, swinging its axe once more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <18:59> [Avir] The wolfman's wounds make him clumsy. With a grunt of agony, it aborts its swing halfway-through, almost dropping its axe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <19:00> [ST] The grizzled leader faces down Miruna, the painted warrior. It has been stung, but not yet badly hurt. It glowers, taking its time as it studies the other. Then it brings the massive hammer around in a trio of vicious blows, determined to drop the other.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:02> [Miruna] He shrugs his shield into the blow, and cannons back at its force. He smacks his mace into the back of the maul as it passes by, extending its followthough awkwardly, but he is unbalanced as well.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:05> [Miruna] The shield digs into the point of his hip, stunnign pain flowing through him. He gasps.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:12> [Miruna] He pushes his shield forward again hitting the head of the maul with it, driving it away from the Wolfman to open his defense. As he throws the maul wide with his shield he brings his mace whistling around, drops of blood flying from the flanges to spatter the tundra dirt under them, strikign at its shoulder. He brings it up and around, crashing down on its head in a second vicious stroke.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:14> [ST] The creature staggers back, shoulder crunching loudly. The second blow smashes its face inward, dropping it senseless to the ground.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:15> [ST] There is the stench of rotting meat, sudden and stroke. Smoke billows through the undergrowth.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:16> [Miruna] Miruna roars, striding forward to exact a finishing blow.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:17> [Avir] "Hold off-" Avir shouts, after hesitating a moment, as the stench of rotting meet fills his nostrils.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:17> [ST] There is the brief, strangled roar of bloodlust denied. The scent fades.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:21> [Avir] Leopard's bleeding stifled, Avir raises his sword. He would feel an awful fool if he were hurt now. The wolfmen's lips curl back in a low snarl as Avir steps over his comrade. The thaumaturge's breath comes in fast, uneven pants. Holding the short sword two-handed, he brings it down in two brutal cuts, full of more fury than strength.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:23> [ST] Fury is enough. Avir's first cut lops off the creature's weapon hand as it tries to fend him off. His second nearly severs its head from its neck. It falls, and silence reigns on this part of the battlefield.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:24> [ST] Elsewhere, the battle is winding down as well. The last few wolfmen flee, howling. At least a dozen of them lie dead around the fire, along with several of the tribespeople.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:25> [Avir] "Carrion Crow..." Avir murmurs. He stabs his sword into the ground and drops into a crouch.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:25> [ST] Elk has been wounded several times. Two-Bits tends to him, ignoring the shattered spar of wood sticking from her thigh. He grunts as she stitches him up.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:26> [Avir] "How many wounded?" Avir asks to the air.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:26> [ST] Kragos the Dreamseer is unharmed. He slumps near the fire, watching Jakka weep. Her brother lies across her lap, his eyes dead and staring up at the sky. The blood leaks from his body like a sieve, staining her thighs with gore.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:27> [Avir] Some initiations into adulthood were merrier than others. Avir staggers to her and puts his hand to the Rondvar's throat, just to be sure.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:28> [ST] Nothing. A vague, petulant voice sounds in her ear. "Many dead, but not here," Stomp says. "They came bearing death with them. Raiders on their way home."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:29> [ST] It looks like four or five of the tribespeople have been killed, including Rondvar. They gave better than they got
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| − | | |
| − | <19:29> [Miruna] Adrenalin fading, Miruna begins to limp from the pain in his hip. He uses his long mace as a crutch, moving from body to body, making sure all the Wolfmen are dead.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:30> [Avir] Avir saves that news for later. Young Jakka suffered enough, for the moment.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:31> [ST] Miruna notices no signs of life, but he does note sigils of death. Most of the wolfmen are wearing braids of hair at their belts, the bloody hunks of scalps still attached. The bigger wolfman that he slew has a trio of heads strapped to his back, still leaking blood, the eyes wide and staring.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:31> [ST] This is, Miruna notes without Stomp's help, a raiding party that was returning, having penetrated into the League and killed a number of herdfolk
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| − | <19:32> [Avir] "Bring the wounded here," Avir says, pointing to a place by the fire. "And then give me privacy. We need to be at our strongest."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:32> [ST] Kragos watches the sobbing girl with an odd detachment. "A wineskin... that transformed into a snake. Bitterness disguised by joy. Yes."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:33> [Miruna] He returns to the campfire, "They've attacked others before us. They keep trophies apparently. We should burn them."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:34> [ST] Bitsy leads Elk over, lending him a shoulder. She staggers a little with his weight.
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| − | <19:34> [ST] "Leopard," she breathes. "Is he?" She seems to have forgotten the wound in her leg.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:35> [Avir] "He's alive. He will be recover.Now sit down!" he snaps at her.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:35> [Miruna] He scowls down at the flames, thinking for a moment, then looks over to Springing Elk. "You did well," or he hadn't screwed them up at least, not that he'd noticed. Even if he hadn';t commanded them at all, that was probably enough with veterans, and far better than he might do if he let power get to his head.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:36> [ST] The tribespeople confer with themselves for a moment. Several of them are injured, but they are aloof, even towards the Dreamseer. "We do not need your Greenfielder magic. You have brought misfortune with you."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:36> [ST] Bitsy lowers Elk with some difficulty, seating herself beside him. She rolls her eyes at the comment, unseen by the tribespeople.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:37> [Miruna] He turns in anger. "Dreams are not Greenfielder magic! My tribe always honored them, do you not?"
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| − | | |
| − | <19:37> [Avir] "Be fools if you must," Avir says, eyes hard. "But I'd think hard about the misfortune that lies ahead of you. Your tribe is wounded already; to refuse aid when offered is to court the anger of Master Winter."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:40> [ST] "Why did he not forsee this?" the tall, statuesque woman who has taken over for Rondvar says. "He has failed the Triad of Dreams."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:41> [ST] She cools somewhat at Avir's statement. "Perhaps. Someone must warn the other tribes. Someone must warn Bertran's Ford. I ride immediately. The wounded may stay or go as they wish."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:42> [ST] She turns to go, shoulders set in anger. Many follow her, but a few, limping visibly, move toward the fire. Jakka has not budged from hr position by her brother.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:43> [Miruna] "We will guard them, to Tanstaad, where they can rest." He suspected that they had already solved the problem they had been sent to deal with. If there had been many rading parties, the Emerald would be dead before they got there. If not, the raiders would be dead.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:43> [Avir] "Jakka, I need privacy." Avir says. He tries to soften his voice, but the impatience leaks through.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:44> [Avir] He takes herbs from his pack and drops them into the water still boiling on the fire for their dinner.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:44> [ST] The girl doesn't seem to realize she's being spoken to. At last, Kragos steps forward to take her by the elbow.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:44> [ST] "You should have told me," she hisses at him venomously, but allows him to lead her away.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:45> [ST] "What're you... doing... Avir?" Two-Bits says, looking at the javelin in her leg. It has splintered.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:46> [Miruna] Miruna scowls at the departing Tribespeople, but hearing Two-Bits brings him back. He hobbles over. "Should get that treated" he gestures at the wound.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:46> [Avir] Avir brews the tea, stirring it with a stick, before he answers her. "A magic Thunder Wisdom taught me," he says at last. Thunder Wisdom had been well respected, almost legendary. He often traded on the name.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:47> [ST] "I can't work up the nerve to pull it out."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:47> [Avir] "Drink," he tells her, holding her a steaming cup of noxious-smelling herbs. "One sip only, and then pass it to the next."
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| − | | |
| − | <19:49> [ST] Two-Bits takes a sip, pursing her mouth at the taste, and passes it to the man next to her, a tribesman now missing an eye.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:51> [ST] He passes it to Elk, who passes it to Miruna. The cup goes down the line.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:52> [Avir] He'd dosed the tea with a powerful narcotic. It should knock them out for an hour or two, which would be long enough.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:52> [Miruna] He takes his sip in turn, chocking it down and passing it along scowling. Free of it, he scrubs the traces left of the brew from his mustache with snow, not wanting to smell if for hours.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:53> [ST] Two-Bits is the first to succumb, slumping against the side of a fallen log. Hampered by his wounds, Elk soon passes out as well. Leopard hardly needs help.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:55> [Miruna] Miruna slumps over, looking worriedly at those falling around him, before succumbing himself.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:57> [Avir] "All right, you vile little creature, come out." It extends one long skinny leg from Avir's open napsack, then another. It chirps, an almost cheerful noise, mandibles quivering as it smells the blood. It skitters across the ground to the worst wounded. [[OoooOOOoo]], it murmurs, caressing the the wound. Its legs are sharp as a surgeon's knives.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:59> [Miruna] As he is falling unconscious, he sees Avir standing over them, the only one seemingly unaffected.
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| − | | |
| − | <19:59> [Avir] Avir slumps by the fire. He pours out the drugged tea, and makes himself some proper green stuff. "Stomp, keep an eye out for more beastmen. Stomach bottle bug, heal them, starting with the worst injured."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:01> [ST] The bug gives a squeal of delight as it goes to work on elk, carefully mending puckered flesh. Its little claws are perfectly sterile - though that says nothing for the weapons that have already pierced them.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:01> [Avir] He sips his tea as the demon works its magics. Perhaps it was different when gods worked such magics, but the bottle bug was revolting. Avir had read of sorcerers who swallowed them; he couldn't imagine doing so. The bug pulls the javelin from Two-Bits' leg and vomits on the wound, caressing the gunk into the wound. The flesh knits together.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:04> [Avir] The surgical bug dances among its patients, turning Avir's stomach and leaving healthy flesh behind. It crawls into Leopard's open mouth to tackle the bruised flesh from the inside. Avir can see the creature's mandibles poking at his stomach from the inside, giving a grotesque impression of pregnancy before it crawls out again.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:04> [ST] The demon sings as it works, enjoying this gory enterprise like none other.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:05> [Avir] Stomp huffs grumpily beside Avir, whispering all the revolting thing it wanted to do to Avir's wounded comrades. Avir pays the demon little mind; he was just sulking for missing the battle, and determined to needle his master in consequence.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:06> [Avir] Two hours later, exausted and virtually empty of essence, to the stomach bottle bug crawls back into Avir's pack. An hour later his comrades begin to stir again.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:09> [Avir] "Feel better?" Avir smiles at Two-Bits as she wakes. He'd known her before her face was ruined.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:09> [ST] "I think so..." she says, a little distantly. "Doesn't hurt anymore."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:11> [Avir] "Good." He surveys the company. A few bruises remained, but he judged a full night's rest would see them capable again.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:11> [Miruna] Miruna shakes his head, groggy and shaggy, and then snaps his head up to glare at Avir. "You weren't keeling over with the rest of us, you didn't even look surprised!" Half conscious and angry, his speech is even more slurred and accented than it normally is.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:12> [Avir] "Of course not," Avir says with perfect composure. "I was not wounded. There are herbs in the magic that sometimes induce sleep."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:14> [Miruna] He's waking up more and more now, and struggling to his feet, still uncoordinated with the narcotic haze. "You put us all asleep? Right after an attack? Fool! What in Creation were you thinking?"
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| − | | |
| − | <20:15> [Avir] "I set wards." Well, he hadn't. But Miruna didn't seem to be in any mood to hear 'I would have fed them to my pet demon.'
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| − | | |
| − | <20:18> [Miruna] "Oh, wards, eh? Were they worth anything?" He doesn't wait for the other man to answer. "Then why don't you set them every night?"
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| − | | |
| − | <20:18> [ST] "Hey man," Leopard remarks, rubbing his head. "Getting up was a lot better than going to sleep this time, you know?"
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| − | | |
| − | <20:19> [Avir] Avir takes a sip of tea. "I do. Against suspected hazards. The wolfmen attacked before I had a chance this weekend."
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| − | <20:21> [Miruna] Avir's calm leaves him sputtering. "Then tell us next time!" He stomps off, not even noticing that his hip had been healed.
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| − | <20:23> [Avir] Avir nods. "Call back Jakka!" he calls after Miruna. He is grateful for the weight of his cup of tea; it keeps his hands from shaking. Some of the tension leaves him.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:24> [ST] "You shouldn't fight," Elk says mildly. The soporific tea has dulled him. It doesn't sound remotely like a command.
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| − | <20:26> [Miruna] "Right, you" he yells, pointing at one of the tribesmen, not wounded and so able to help. "Start gathering the trophies these bastards were carrying. We're burning them tonight." The work burns through his anger.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:27> [ST] The others begin to drift back to the fire, Jakka among them. She is silent now, cheeks stained with tears. Those who are fit enough to work come to Miruna's aid.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:29> [Avir] "I suppose we're camping here," Avir comments to no one in particular.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:32> [ST] "Even I don't like to think what the dreams tonight will be," Kragos comments, warming his hands over the fire.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:33> [Avir] Avir grunts. He stares at the fire a few minutes, face shadowed, then stands abruptly. "I'm going to take a look around."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:34> [Avir] "Don't wait up."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:34> [ST] "Don't go too far," Elk comments. It is the mildest of suggestions.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:34> [ST] Two-Bits watches Avir go, edging closer to the fire. Despite the nearness of the heat, she shivers.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:36> [Avir] -
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| − | | |
| − | <20:38> [ST] Avir stomps through the undergrowth, following the first, freshest, and most obvious trail he finds. It ends at one of the riding elks, fled from the camp in panic. Its eyes are glassy, and its flanks heave heavily. Blood trickles from a hole in its side.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:38> [Miruna] He builds a seperate structure for the burial-fire, using thinner sticks but much more of them, not so much concerned with the duration of the flames but with their heat. He sends tribesmen out for mnore wood, and gatehrs all the scalps, hair braids and heads that he can find. One Wolfman had a necklace of ears as well, and he threaded them each carefully of the leather thong before placing them in the fire, trying to match the similar ones when there seemed to be pairs.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:39> [Miruna] One Wolfman had a necklace of ears as well, and he threaded them each carefully of the leather thong before placing them in the fire, trying to match the similar ones when there seemed to be pairs.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:42> [Avir] Avir looks over his shoulder to make sure he was not followed. It was Jakka's elk, he realized; he recognized the pretty red coat and the white star at its heel. It is panicked, its reins caught in a thicket. He takes the reins and coaxes it away. He knows better than to try to mount it. He ties the reindeer up in a secluded glade then takes out a carving knife. Suspicious brown spots stain the edges. He carves each
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| − | | |
| − | <20:42> [Avir] tree of the glade with two runes. They seem...deeply wrong. The sight of them sends prickles of unease up his spine.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:42> [Miruna] Last he sits cross-legged by the fire, and retrieves a strip of white cloth from one of their excess rolls of bandages. He sets carefully to painting, depicting their tormentors being defeated, to calm what spirits were left and reassure them that they ahd been avenged.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:47> [Miruna] He only has a few brushes, and three color pots - brown, red and blue - with him, but he manages well enough. The battle flows over the cloth, time spilling forward without the scene ever changing, until the prepared pyre is shown, withing with the painted cloth draping over it. He lays it over the fire-structure to match.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:48> [Miruna] With everythign set, he leaves it for the morning. They would set it alight before they left, when they woke from the night's dreams.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:48> [Avir] He ties the elk to an old tree that groaned with age over piles of gnarled roots. The he stabs it in the flank with the carving knife. He grimaces in distaste. The pretty red reindeer bellows in pain and panick and begins to run until yanked back by the reins tangled in the tree's roots. He runs with it, chiving it into a circular run with jabs of the knife to its legs. It's eyes roll wildly and its mouth foams as
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| − | | |
| − | <20:48> [Avir] it runs in a fruitless circuit around the tree, bleeding a circle of its own blood as it runs . Each circuit brings it closer to the old tree itself as the reins wrap tight around the tree.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:51> [Avir] At last there is no more room to run. The elk has wound itself fast to the tree. Avir strips off his pants, breastplate, and outershirt to stand almost nude. An embarassing necessity; he did not wish to explain fresh blood to the others. He touches the sacrifice's heaving flanks soothingly and begins to whisper obscene words in Old Realm as he slices off pieces. It's bloody butcher's work, the magic of sacrifice.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:51> [Avir] A foul green light grows in the tree's roots.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:55> [ST] There is the stink of rotting meat, the howl of nature abused, the horrible cacophony of the demon city, and another blood ape claws its way from the maw, shiny with blood as if it has just been born.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:56> [ST] "Kill youuu..." the thing says. "Suck your bones dryyyy..."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:57> [Avir] The roots groan and creak and shuffle as the blood ape bursts through. Her eyes gleam, dim and green. Heavy teats swing beneath her. The red star at Avir's ear glows. "No," says Avir softly, persuasively. "I would bargain with you."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:58> [ST] it stops, eyeing the red star earring strangely. Its blank eyes are unreadable. "Bargain.... what can you offer...? What can you offer that I can't... take..."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:58> [Avir] He holds up the dying reindeer. It kicks and screams, eyes rolling madly. "I have flesh for you. Better. The promise of much more."
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| − | | |
| − | <20:59> [ST] "Flesh... I can find..." yet the demon does not reject the gift. She creeps forward, burying her muzzle in the Elk's neck, chewing busily, talking through the gristle.
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| − | | |
| − | <20:59> [ST] "Why is yours... better..?"
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| − | | |
| − | <21:01> [Avir] "Mighty ermanyathoi, red of claw, I have many sweet gifts. THe first - the gift of secrecy. I can hide you from my brothers. You can endure for many months, slaughter many hundreds more than otherwise. I can offer you the blood of cats. Sacrifice. Worship. Appreciation."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:01> [Avir] Demons craved worship almost as much as they craved blood. In this, they and the gods were much alike.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:02> [ST] "Catsss... and should I crave... a sweeter meat?"
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| − | | |
| − | <21:03> [Avir] "That, too, I will give you."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:04> [ST] "A death a week. My choice. Not from among one you name ally, or friend. Not from among those you know by name.... but my choice."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:07> [Avir] "No. I will offer battle, and strong foes, but they will be gifts, mighty ermanyathoi, and sweeter for it." Avir suddenly seems to lose interest. "Of course, I could send you back. I'm sure there is much mortal meat and dead cats be found among the streets of Malfeas."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:09> [ST] "You are no blood of the Dragon... little... man. Your staaar.... protects you now.... but do not presume to order me. You have already... thrown wide the gates of Creation for me."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:11> [Avir] "Do not forget I can throw you hurtling back, as well. Or worse." Stomp huffs eagerly. Blood ape, wolf man, or suckling infant; it was all the same to him.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:11> [ST] The demon's blank eyes stare into Avir's for long moments.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:12> [ST] "Very well," it says at last. "For now. While it amuses me."
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| − | | |
| − | <21:13> [Avir] "Very well. Dematerialize now. There will likely be battle on the morrow." Or so he hoped. The female blood apes were always more stubborn than the males.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:14> [ST] The Blood Ape grunts, a low chuffing sound. They are loathe to dematerialize.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:14> [ST] But at last, it flares and then fades from sight, leaving only the faint smell of blood behind.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:15> [Avir] "Keep her under control," Avir tells Stomp, who was at least reliable. He dons his clothing again, and makes his way back to camp.
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| − | | |
| − | <21:19> [Avir] He beds down beside the others of the Once Dead. He had forgotten to bath after the summoning, and the smell of blood lingers in the air near him.
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| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | Session Close: Sat Jun 28 21:56:56 2008
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