The Call of the Mountains IC [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

OracleofSilence

2015-06-19, 04:00 PM

The Town Square

The town square is packed, with market stalls taking any available space, and, by the looks of it, most of the town inhabitants out and about, examining the wares. The shouts and commotion of competing merchants and the occasional outcry over some disputed item are almost sufficient to conceal the sounds of construction from the edges of the town, but the scaffolding surrounding the Headsmans House make clear the true nature of Denan. the town is changing, growing, and by the occasional glint of polished stone from under the cloth coverings, it is becoming something wholy different from the sleepy mountain village it still remains.

Now, however, the townsfolk have a somewhat more celebratory outlook on things. As noon approaches, more and more are filtering into the clutter of public houses and teashops surrounding the square, trading tales, trying to find a place to eat before the days work must continue.

The Caravan

It has been nearly 5 days since the caravan has last seen the unobscured sky. The forest went on for miles in all directions, only growing thicker and more ancient as the altitude grew. Finally however, the bracken clears somewhat and the massive trunks thin, revealing a nearby lake shore, and, perhaps thirty minutes ahead, the edge of Denan. A faint rustling of the underbrush indicates the return of the caravan's outriders and a moment later the shout of the troupes leader breaks the half-silence "Right! We'll be there in a few minutes. Get your final payments together if you're a passenger, and keep the weapons where they can see 'em."

I am assuming that anyone with soldiers (I'm looking at you Ixion and Safiya), will only have a few guards with them at the moment, with the rest arriving a few hours later. Does that seem acceptable?

And Perception+Awareness please.

Ifni

2015-06-20, 01:21 AM

The Caravan

A dark-haired woman is seated on the back of one of the wagons, holding a golden-haired child of perhaps five winters in her lap. The little girl is wriggling, clearly discontented with her situation; her present silence is a short welcome lull after several hours of, I'm thirsty, mother. Are we there yet? What's that tree called? Is that a bird's nest? I want to go talk to the soldiers again. Are we there yet?

The woman is of medium height, with skin that was once fair but has been weathered by long years of sun and wind. Her eyes are green, like her daughter's, although hers are a darker shade. Her nails are cut short, and her fingertips are stained faintly green and brown and red. She is wearing trousers and a loose shirt, tucked in at the waist; the fabric is gray homespun, sturdy but plain. A green-and-white knitted shawl is wrapped around her head and shoulders. A wide array of pouches hang from her belt, some of cloth and some of leather; some are beaded or dyed, others very plain. A large satchel is slung over her back. The sheathed knife at her belt is not balanced for combat, although within its dark-stained scabbard, the blade is scalpel sharp.

An observant onlooker might add together the evidence and come up with traveling healer, and they would not be wrong. To those who come from the stony hill country, and worship the old gods, the intricate patterns of her shawl say more.

She did not pay for passage, with this caravan. But nor did she ask payment for the tea she brewed for the caravan-master's son, or the dislocated elbow she put back into place after one of the guards fell when climbing a fruit-free. Silver is not the currency of the world she has always inhabited, the world that lives alongside that of lords and armies, easing itself around the ambitious designs of the great.

"Come now, Hawk," the woman says softly. Her voice is low and pleasant, albeit with the faintly plaintive note familiar to all parents of small children on long journeys. "Sit up; you can have some water, and we'll wash your face so you'll be all clean and bright when we get to the town. It's just ahead now, you see?"

The little girl scrambles up and goes to lean over the side of the wagon, eagerly peering forward to the gap between the trees.

Her mother watches the road ahead with somewhat more mixed feelings. Denan. An unassuming name, to hold so much hope and so much peril. Ordinary caution may not suffice, in this place, and she wonders again if she made the right choice by coming here. Better, perhaps, to hide away in the hills, in the presumptive safety of the sacred grove - but if the Immaculates found them there, it would be the end. The jade-and-wood circlet that rests on her brow, woven through her dark hair and concealed by the shawl, feels heavier than it should, as if weighed down by the promises it represents.

Perception+Awareness for Angharad: [roll0]
If occult sensitivity is required, add another 2 dice: [roll1]
Possible stunt (unlikely, but in case): [roll2]

Perception+Awareness for Hawkthistle: [roll3]
Possible stunt (unlikely, but in case): [roll4]

Obscurejones

2015-06-21, 01:33 AM

With Denan
In the midst of vendors offering food and goods stands one man dressed in a kaleidoscopic array of robes and vests, in every color man can imagine. He grins as he barks to the passers buy and offers his own wares.
"Step up, step up, come one and all! Money to be made, winnings to be had, a simple bit of skill and you leave my stall a wealthy man, woman, or whatever the hell you choose to be! With this much money no one will be able to tell you otherwise! The three cups women and children a hallowed and revered tradition brought to you all the way from the exotic sands of the far South! Practiced by the ruby mongers of Gem, the glass merchants of Chiaroscuro! Ladies and gentlemen this-!"
With a flourish the bead flips up and out of Jack's sleeve, dancing between his fingers.
"This humble bauble is the key to your fortunes! A simple matter to follow the rattle and clatter of a bead in a cup!"
A second flourish and two white beads join the first.
"Ah, but I cannot make it too easy. After all a man must eat. So! Follow the crimson bead amidst its brothers and you too can steal my humble funds!"
Slapping the three cups on a simple plank of wood Jack juggles the beads as he waits for a patsy.

Guancyto

2015-06-21, 02:55 PM

The Caravan

"Princess, it's time." One of the outriders to the caravan, Shirzuh Miramid was a greying old warhorse of a man with a heavy brow and powerful arms. He had served the Tamerlane together with his father, and his grandfather, and his children. The bow he carried had felled more of their enemies than he could count, but now his eyes were beginning to cloud and his limbs were beginning to slow, and the world was beginning to outpace him. In ten years he would likely be with his ancestors, but today, he would protect the Princess that was his charge.

One of the more secretive (or merely aloof) of the caravan's inhabitants called from inside the wagon. She had taken her meals and her visitors inside her own space, screened by her own guards, remaining apart from the chaos that was a life on the trail. That wasn't to say that no one had interacted with her, merely that they did so entirely at her own sufferance.

"Then I suppose I will cease hiding away. Out, Faithful," a brown and black-furred dog (who had been a much more common sight among the people of the caravan, catching vermin, herding stragglers back to the main body of the caravan - oh, and begging for scraps) leapt out of the wagon with all the exuberance of youth and eagerness for a meal. Shirzuh threw the dog a scrap of meat from his saddlebags and the hound leapt to catch it, looking up at him with bright intelligent eyes and wagging his tail excitedly before bounding off to find trouble to get into.

Crown Princess Safiya Tamerlane took some time to set herself in proper order. Dark hair back in a ponytail, dark eyes touched up, eyelashes darkened with bits of charcoal. A cream from Nexus to cover the scar stretching from her ear to her neck. Her skin was beaten by the sun, her hands were callused from use of the sword and the bow, and a life in the saddle had given her a more authoritative walk than was quite 'proper.' Still, it was perfect. The Tamerlane were descended from a conqueror that had carved a mighty empire before settling down, and it was better that everyone knew that the old strength was still in her. She buckled her armor and girded her sword, of the finest make that the nation could create, with a shield painted with her symbol - three red moons in a black sky. The only real sign of her office, however, was a ring of iron bearing a black onyx which once belonged to the Iron Khan himself (as befitted one of his descendants).

It took only two steps to go from stepping out of the wagon to swinging up onto a horse alongside Shirzuh, and she was swiftly joined by three more of her guards on horseback. "You're... very open," Shirzuh said, noting the crest on her shield, "You've heard the rumors of Denan, I trust, my lady?" he said.

"I have paid close attention to my visitors' words," Safiya agreed, "better that they know who I am and distrust me rather than try to conscript me into their paltry militia, that would serve none of us.

Meanwhile the dog Faithful ran ahead, checking up on the friendly people who had fed him during the trip. It wouldn't do to let any of the herd fall behind, after all! He gave a happy wag at one of the children poking her face out of one of the wagons - that human and her mother had an odd smell to them, but a pleasant one, like the wild variety of fresh new scents after a long rain.

Perfectly acceptable, yes! Just keeps it easier to manage, to boot.

I will however insist on bringing the dog. :smalltongue:

Roll's in the OOC, it's 1 success.

Ifni

2015-06-21, 05:00 PM

"Doggie!" Hawkthistle squeals in ear-piercing delight, and slides out of her mother's arms with practiced ease, jumping down to the road and dashing over to run her hands through the dog's fur.

The woman starts up with alarm, but relaxes - slightly - on seeing the wagging tail. "Hawkthistle, you shouldn't pat strange dogs," she chides. "Not all of them are friendly." She swings down from the wagon and then pauses, staring back along the wagon train. (Nonetheless, as she watches, she absent-mindedly extracts a scrap of jerky from one pouch and throws it to the hound.) She has not seen that rider before, and even from this distance, she's enough of a craftswoman to recognize well-made armor and weapons.

"Doggie isn't strange," the little girl returns doughtily. "He's my friend."

The woman doesn't reply, only stepping to one side to let the wagons pass by as she continues to study the riders; the child takes this as permission to keep playing with the dog.

dunecat

2015-06-21, 05:03 PM

Faithful's round of the caravan took him past a somewhat rag-tag looking knot of men and women, one of whom reached down and absentmindedly rubbed the side of the now familiar dogs neck and the top of his head as he leaned up against her leg for a moment.

"It will be good to arrive Rhegor, everyone seems worn down from all the hiking." The woman who spoke had a head of shockingly red-bronze hair that was only a couple of shades different from her breastplate and the shield that was slung over her back. Aside from the fine quality arms and armor, she was dressed in simple, sturdy clothing well suited to travel and permitted plenty of movement. Despite her apparent familiarity with being outdoors, her skin was still pale excepting where she was speckled over with freckles. The man she was talking to on the other hand had a look to him much like the herb-woman did, darkened and worn by exposure and time. Not to say that he was old, but he clearly had several years on the redhead.

"I'm sure everyone could use a rest.."

"I was more thinking that you could use a bath. Remind me why I didn't buy that bottle of perfume in Nexus last time?"

"Glaenara.. He sighed and shook his head. "Because you're 'not one for overly feminine excesses' or something like that." She grinned and gave him a light thump on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

"I knew I kept you around for a reason, let's get everyone together. I don't want to have to track them down once we arrive." Rhegor nodded and turned to perform a quick headcount of the 'Wolves already with them and then turned his attention to locating anyone else. Glaenara began by lifting herself up onto a passing wagon to get a better elivevation, spared a moments smile for the little girl leaning out of the other side of the cart and then looked around to spot the rest of her men and check the surroundings out of pure habit.

Dice rolled in OOC thread to save on space here

Glaenara
Perception+Awareness 1
Stunt Dice 0

Rhegor
Perception+Awareness 3
Stunt Dice 0

Guancyto

2015-06-21, 10:06 PM

Faithful happily licked Hawkthistle's face as she patted him, although Angharad's bit of jerky distracted him well enough that the child could get her arms around him. He was more than large enough to bowl her over if he had decided to jump, but Master had taught him better than that and that he should treat the little human like one of his own pups especially if her mother was feeding him. These humans had stopped a little while and he didn't smell the forest scents so much any more, so he did the proper thing for a dog of his stature and rolled over so the little human could rub his belly.

There were five riders; the three in back were young; their shoulders bounced as they rode and the one shifted uncomfortably; saddle-sore. The two in front, by contrast, looked as comfortable in their saddles as they might be sitting on the ground, guiding their horses to avoid obstacles and other travelers without even touching the reins. They passed an old yellowed book between the two of them and had a quiet but heated discussion over the contents. The old man had his fair share of scars, a lifetime of constant battle having taken its toll, but there was still a powerful energy to him - enough for him to have offered his services as an outrider, at least. Perhaps less ideal as a bodyguard and more as a tutor?

"I suppose to stay on the cutting edge of your swordsmanship, you must yourself be sharp?" the old man said as they came into earshot of the others.

"Was that a... pun?" the young woman raised an eyebrow, "I am saddled with a punning great-grandfather and a book extolling the virtue of self-annihilation in swordsmanship. Clearly the Queen is trying to tell me something."

"Perhaps if you practiced your calligraphy, it might become clearer?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well if you were more skilled at drawing your sword," he mimed the motions of a pen, "perhaps you'd see some improvement in using it."

The Princess shot him a sour look and looked in the other direction, spotting Angharad - and Faithful playing with Hawkthistle. "Healer," she addressed Angharad, "you have the look of a wise woman about you. Can you make any sense of this?" She offered the falling-apart old booklet which (if the healer was so inclined to read it) contained such pearls of wisdom as,

'To train with the sword, first master sweeping. When you have mastered sweeping, you must master the way of drawing water. Once you have learned how to draw water, you must split wood. Once you have split wood, you must learn the arts of finding the fine herbs in the forest, the arts of writing, the arts of paper making, and poetry writing. You must become familiar with the awl and the pen in equal measure. When you have mastered all these things you must master building a house. Once your house is built, you have no further need for a sword, since it is an ugly piece of metal and its adherents idiots.'

and,

'Consider: there is no such thing as a sword.'

Django

2015-06-21, 11:19 PM

A hulking shape sits in the back of one of the covered wagons. It is humanoid, and wearing a shapeless assembly of form-obscuring cloaks and shawls. The gray-brown fabric covers much, but the shape's extremities catch more than enough attention.

The shape is a man, sitting cross-legged- but the bent knees and the hands that clasp them made of steel and jade. From beneath his hood, three glass eyes look impassively at the trail spooling out behind the caravan.

The man's name is Quiet Mountain, but nobody on the caravan was aware of this. In the journey he had exchanged words with none of them, save for the wagon's master. He had run afoul of highwaymen in an earlier stop, but Mountain's appearance had sent the bandits into fits of terror. The only repayment Mou tain would accept was passage to Denan.

And now, he had nearly arrived.

Ifni

2015-06-23, 12:16 AM

Angharad arches an eyebrow, but takes the book, examining it closely. After a moment she hands it back to the Princess. "It seems the author didn't think much of her audience. I suppose she might have sought to ensure her students learned the purpose of a sword, as well as its use -" She shrugs. One arm moves a little strangely, the elbow not quite straight.

"But then again, she might simply test their determination to endure mockery." She lifts her eyes to meet those of the young woman, with a piercing green-eyed gaze - although there is a hint of a wry smile on her lips. "I do not believe your insignia is from the lands I know. Have you traveled far?"

Hawkthistle has found the perfect spot on Faithful's belly, and appears perfectly content to sit there rubbing it until the wagon train disappears down the road.

Angharad's comment on the insignia may or may not be a lie, depending on whether Lore 3 is enough to know about Tamerlane :smallwink:

Guancyto

2015-06-23, 12:49 AM

Well! I assume there are many descendants of famous conquerors who consider themselves the real heirs, and Safiya's iteration settled down and got to serving the rulers of a border kingdom. They've been good at their jobs, but it's only the current Queen that's made them properly scary again, so... very well might not be a lie!

"I am Crown Princess Safiya Tamerlane," The Princess purses her lips in a frown at not having been recognized. She takes the manual back and reads another line, "'I hope that by reading this manual, you will be thoroughly encouraged to become a farmer.' A lesson in humility or conviction, perhaps you are correct."

"You know, Princess," Shirzuh says, acknowledging Angharad with a friendly nod, "the Fallows were the best farmland in the region, perhaps even in the Kingdoms. Perhaps the Queen does want you to become a farmer."

Safiya's frown extends to her retainer as well. "When she came back, I could fight a single warrior. How many is she throwing into our training exercises now?"

"Nine, my lady."

"Do you think she does this because she anticipates I will encounter a particularly dangerous horde of plow horses?"

It is Shirzuh's turn to smile, "Dogs of the Unbroken Earth, perhaps, or a particularly dangerous group of ghosts, or a swarm of vermin, or raiders. Do you think tillers of the soil have an easy life? I dare say that if I settle down to cultivate a land of my own it will be because I enjoy the danger."

"Are you serious?"

"Well, you know what they say," the old retainer cracks a sidelong grin at Angharad and Safiya alike, "a farmer is a man outstanding in his field."

Ifni

2015-06-23, 01:19 AM

"For one who flattered my apparent wisdom, Princess, I see your company has no shortage of wise men," Angharad tells Safiya with a straight and serious face. Her eyes crinkle as she glances at Shirzuh. "Even if they do not advertise by appearance."

Nine soldiers?

She goes over to scoop her daughter onto her feet. "Come on, Hawk. We need to keep up with the wagons, and the Princess doubtless wants her hound back."

The little girl is initially stiff and uncooperative, but the word Princess seems to work some magic.

"You're a princess?" she demands, sounding highly interested. "Do you have a castle? Can I ride on your horse? Is Doggie really yours?"

"Hawkthistle," Angharad says sternly, cutting off the flow of words - but the herbalist holds off on any stronger reproof for the moment, waiting to see Safiya's reaction.

Guancyto

2015-06-24, 01:19 AM

Safiya is taken aback by the sudden flood of questions - it's not that she's never had to deal with inquisitive children before, but the sheer energy of Hawkthistle is... considerable. She looks at Shirzuh, who nods to her as though to say, 'sure, why not, indulge her?' He might not be the best one to ask; perhaps he's only pleased at Angharad's recognition.

"As I said, I am Crown Princess Safiya Tamerlane. My mother is Queen Regnant Elodie of Glorantha, called the Queen of Frost; we are descended of the Iron Khan," she says, keeping her composure steady even in the face of relentless youthful exuberance. "My domain is Erivan Fortress and its surrounding lands and settlements, so yes, I have a castle."

Looking down at the dog who had gotten up again and started looking around after losing his source of belly scritches, she commands, "Faithful, heel." The hound bounds after her, keeping alongside (while maintaining a safe distance from her horse; those hooves are trouble!).

"Out wide." Faithful springs away and keeps pace at about ten meters' distance.

"Down," Safiya calls, and he puts his belly to the dirt with such speed that it's like releasing a spring. "Return." He runs back to Hawkthistle and jumps up to put his front paws on the wagon's edge, hoping for another pat and panting all the time.

"He must like you," Safiya says, raising an eyebrow, "he is showing off. But since you have such a sound endorsement of character, you may ride with me if your mother allows it. I was about your age when I first rode with my mother, but it was about..." she appraises the girl's age, "three more years or so before I could learn to ride on my own."

Ifni

2015-06-24, 10:20 PM

"She'll take that as a challenge, I fear," Angharad sighs. Her tone grows a little dry as she turns to her daughter. "Yes, Hawkthistle, you may ride with the Princess if she allows it, but you may not beg her for riding lessons, nor may you attempt to ride any of her horses - or anyone else's - without permission. If you do either, there will be no more rides at all."

This seems to mostly go over the child's golden-haired head; she nods impatiently. "Yes! Lift me up, Mother?"

Angharad obligingly hoists the child up to the level of Safiya's saddle, although a faint wince crosses her face as she does so.

"An interesting procession, this caravan," she observes after a moment, as she walks alongside the horse. (And the observant would notice that she is keeping a very close eye on her daughter, tensed to leap in should there be any sign of slipping.) "An heir to a throne, with her retainers. The heavily armed warriors a few wagons ahead. A man with hands of jade, who does not speak. All converging on little Denan."

"What do you expect to find there?"

Guancyto

2015-06-25, 12:29 AM

Safiya's hands are steady around Hawkthistle, and she will not permit her charge to be injured! Her horse eyes the new passenger warily but a whisper from Safiya reassures it well enough. That's not to say she's infallible so Angharad probably has the right idea keeping an eye on Hawkthistle as she rides in front of the Princess.

"The important part right now is to keep your balance," Safiya says to Hawkthistle, "and do not be afraid to say something if you feel yourself slipping."

At Angharad's question, she looks to Shirzuh and goes quiet for a little while. "Have you ever seen a landslide, mother of Hawkthistle? I do not often spend time in the mountains but it was quite a sight. A single stone fell from above, about the size of your fist. It struck another and that came loose, and that struck another in turn, and then they stopped, and nothing more happened. Then Shirzuh threw another stone and it struck the slope, and the entire ledge gave way and fell down the mountainside like a stream of water. It swept boulders and dust alike along with it and if it stopped it did not do so until it was well out of our sight.

I expect to find a stone."

Ifni

2015-06-27, 02:06 AM

"So that Shirzuh can fling it?" Angharad asks, raising an eyebrow. She glances toward the town. "But it's not a bad metaphor. The stone that starts the landslide doesn't escape; it gets caught up and tumbled down the mountain like everything else."

"So what do you think of the pebbles you've seen so far? The flint and clay of this mountain slope - and more foreign substances, as well, I suppose."

Hawkthistle has a look of extreme concentration on her small face, and seems to be largely ignoring the adults in favor of the horse.

While I am happy to keep bantering all day, anyone else want to join in on this? Or should we move on to the first non-chatter scene?

OracleofSilence

2015-06-28, 12:07 PM

Jack

Jack's morning has been fairly profitable, while the townsfolk are well aware he is cheating them (I mean seriously, who hasn't heard of the three cups trick?), they are by and large more then happy to spend a few coins for a moments entertainment. Despite the apparent good nature of the citizenry however, a small group of men in dust travel robes approaches Jack's table, eying him suspiciously. "Sir, I must ask." one of the shorter men speaks, his voice just a little louder then necessary. "Why do you seek to cheat the townsfolk here?" The crowd around quiets, after all, a little bit of street magic was all well and good, but a fight. Now that was entertaining.

The Caravan

The caravan finally breaks the tree line, circling a large lake, and drawing closer to the outskirts of the encampment surrounding Denan proper. A semi constructed palisade surrounds that, although piles of quarried stone and the beginings of s scaffold indicate that this is more the foundation for a larger project. As the caravan approaches the gate, a small detachment of guards breaks headsd off and stops the wagons about 50 feet from the entrance. A brief discussion with the caravan master seems to relax them somewhat, and the begin calling wagons out, one at a time, before allowing them into the city proper.

The forest seems very much alive around you, well beyond what fertile ground should be able to do. The tree's are tangled with small vines, and the underbrush becomes almost impossible thick once you get more then 20 or so feet off the trail. Despite that, you can see, or at least half see, a few figures watching the caravan progress, either perched in tree's a good way off the road or half concealed by the tangle of bushes and saplings on the forest floor.

No need to be to detailed here. Just give a brief description of entering the city proper and your reason for being here.

Django

2015-06-28, 12:37 PM

Quiet Mountain disembarks, offering a curt word of thanks to his benefactor. He approaches the gate on foot, each step crunching heavily into the dirt. The eyes of his helm glow a bit under his hood, and anybody passing closeby would hear the whine of servos with each stride.

He complies with the demands of the guards, even as he stands a full head over most of them. His short jade daiklave rests, visibly, on his hip.

When asked why he came to Denan, he speaks in a deep voice, distorted by the power armor (though still with a notable Northern accent). "To see peace brought to the Hundred Kingdoms."

Guancyto

2015-06-29, 12:38 AM

"Perhaps he will, at that. I don't know yet what the other pebbles are like," Safiya answers Angharaed plainly, "that is exactly what I am here to find out, and what the slope looks like. And if we start a landslide, is it going to start above us?"

Safiya takes note of the man in jade armor as he enters - he looks wealthy and powerful, and she is reminded of the line in the sword manual that said, ' I have no retainers, and possess nothing except a straight sword six hand spans (five and a half kret) long (this is the proper length). This is because I am Royalty and the undisputed master of the principal art of Cutting. I will fight naked with ten-thousand men.' It is not any stretch of the imagination to expect him to be a Dragon-Blood, but an agent of the Realm would either be more ostentatious with banners and retainers, or with no fanfare or (visible) jade at all. The quiet mountain of a man is... curious.

"Crown Princess Safiya Tamerlane, here with my retainers to find a claimant to a baronial title within my kingdom," she explains to the guards, giving the line which she had practiced on the way there. It should provide her a suitable excuse to assess the environs, "the Queen of Frost wishes to treat with him on restoring his birthright. Of course, if my presence serves to engender goodwill between Glorantha and Denan, that is also acceptable."

Assuming that is indeed acceptable, she takes her horse and riders into the city, doing her best to take in everything - its level of development, the repair of its streets, the density of the houses, the looks of the people passing her by. It is important how large the stone is; a boulder she cannot throw is as useless as a pebble that cannot make a difference.

Gonna try Perception+Socialize to get an idea of what the general mood is around town.
[roll0]

Obscurejones

2015-06-29, 03:36 PM

"Cheat these people? You wound me, sir. Wouldn't dream of cheating them. I'm offering them joy, wealth, hope, why I'm a philanthropist of the highest order. Perhaps you'd like to play? Win the funds for something a bit less drab? Ooooh, or a book on etiquette. Both so very useful."

Ifni

2015-06-30, 10:13 PM

Angharad's attention sharpens on the forest as she approaches the village. Interesting. Is there another master dwelling here? Or a forest-spirit, or a Wood Aspect...

Having collected Hawkthistle from Safiya, she nods rather curtly to the guard's questions, folding her arms. "Angharad of Ravenscroft. I am a herbalist and thaumaturge. I am here to replenish my supplies, and if there is need, to add my skills to those of your own people in helping the injured and sick. Does the village have an apothecary, healer, shaman or the like?"

dunecat

2015-07-02, 04:57 PM

By the time they arrived Glaenara had gathered the fifteen other members of the Wyrd Wolves. They entered Denan together as a unit, though without the precision that would mark them as military, or even capably trained mercenary. These were men and woman who were used to working with each other, competent, and allowed to loosely organize themselves in an organic fashion. They were also all being sternly admonished by the red-head who lead them into town.

"Alright, no trouble while we're here. I want you to keep your weapons peacebound and in sight - I'm looking at you Han, none of that hidden dagger foolery here. We want to make a good impression."

What she didn't mention was how much of a change of pace this would be for them all. If they wanted to continue to live the way they had though then they needed to get out in front of things or the increasing presence from the Realm would wash them away under a tide of bureaucracy and permits.

"I be Glaenara, an this is Rhegor, both of us hail from Dun Annwn. That rabble behind us is the Wyrd-Wolves. We all think that the Realm needs to have something sharp applied to it's backside and heard this was the place to do it from.

OracleofSilence

2015-07-17, 01:20 PM

Jack Thatch

While some of the on-lookers chuckle slightly at Jack's remarks, the irate speaker is not so amused. "No insults or invitations can sway me, but your lies? That is another matter. Accept that your wickedness brings harm to others, and leave the path of iniquity, and perhaps you shall be spared."

Angharad (and Hawkthistle)

The guards mutter softly amongst themselves, some almost half bowing from an old, ingrained respect. "We do, ma'm, but more are always needed. You can find supplies in the village center, and for patients, you will find many who will be glad of your help. The Headsman himself might wish to speak with you in fact, he has asked any capable travelers to meet him in his hall on arrival, and I'm sure he would appreciate your presence."

Quiet Mountain

The guards stiffen slightly as the massively armored warrior approaches them, calling a few others from the gates as. One, a man dressed in simple robes and covered in elaborate patterns of tattoo's steps forwards to great you. "Greeting traveler. What brings you to Denan?" The man escorts you slightly out of the path of the other arrivals, allowing the rest of the guards to continue the procession.

Safiya

"Carry on then, but be aware, our laws as they stand afford no special protections to royals, and your presence here is only welcome so long as you remember that."

Glaenara

Some of the guards chuckle softly amongst themselves as she speaks, a few miming precisely what they would do with their particular weapons as the allow her entrance. "When you get done looking around, you should head to the Headsman's seat. He has put out a standing request to meet new travelers, and you seem to fit that bill just fine. I'd b careful about that talk regarding the realm in here though. Rumor has it some Immaculates are around, and I hear they don't take kindly to that sort of talk."

Obscurejones

2015-07-17, 01:36 PM

Django

2015-07-18, 11:46 AM

Quiet Mountain allows himself to be herded over to the side. His three glass eyes regard the tattooed man impassively.

Quiet Mountain's voice, obscured by the power armor, is deep and resonant. He speaks slowly, almost hesitantly.
"I heard the folk in Denan were fighting for freedom. I wish to help."

Guancyto

2015-07-18, 11:35 PM

"Ah, a free city. Very well," Safiya said, acknowledging the point, "then I suppose in the interests of not creating an incident, I would like to know what your laws are on dueling, horse-racing, property damage, killing in defense of my person or property," the sight of Faithful sniffing at the armored man being taken to the side distracted her, "and hunting in the outskirts and surrounding forests. I will follow your laws and obtain what permissions I must, but I do not intend to tread lightly or live quietly."

Ifni

2015-07-20, 05:33 AM

Angharad (and Hawkthistle)

The guards mutter softly amongst themselves, some almost half bowing from an old, ingrained respect. "We do, ma'm, but more are always needed. You can find supplies in the village center, and for patients, you will find many who will be glad of your help. The Headsman himself might wish to speak with you in fact, he has asked any capable travelers to meet him in his hall on arrival, and I'm sure he would appreciate your presence."

Angharad nods to the guards. "You have my thanks." Hawkthistle seems to have suffered an unexpected (but rather welcome) attack of shyness, and is hiding behind her mother's legs, peeking out at the guards. "I will speak with your Headsman and healers, then. Come to me if you or your families need aid -" She smiles briefly. "Accordingly, I will not wish to meet you again soon."

She takes her daughter's hand and walks on into the village, keeping an eye out for apothecaries and herbalists' shops. Healers gossip, like any other profession, and she would rather find out a little more of what's going on here before meeting the Headsman. And she does want to check the quality of the supplies available, as well.

Django

2015-07-20, 08:23 AM

Quiet Mountain looks down, suddenly aware of the hound investigating his person. He makes a "one moment" gesture to the tatooed man.

Quiet Mountain reaches into his cloak and produces a small piece of cured meat. He tosses it to Faithful with a high, attractive arc.

The_Snark

2015-07-21, 06:29 AM

Laughing Rill is often told that she was poorly named.

Not that they say it aloud, not to her face at least. But she's learned how to tell when someone is thinking it. Laughing Rill is a name for a sprightly girl on the cusp of adulthood, flirting with maturity but not quite ready to grow up yet. Maybe it fit her, once. Eight, ten years ago?

Not so much these days. She’s picked up a bit of weight, some scarring, the beginnings of a wrinkle or two. Mostly, though, it's the attitude: all business, hardly ever a smile.

She does her best not to brood as she makes her way through the crowd, Sorrel and Fox in her wake. She can still remember when Denan was a sleepy little mountain village, only stirring to wakefulness when a caravan passed through on its way to somewhere more interesting. Now it seems every day is market day, and more: the locals come out to peddle their wares to the crowds of strangers, while travelers beg or barter for food and shelter. Not that she’s any right to cast stones on that account; she arrived in Denan little more than four months ago, owning no more than she could carry on her back.

But that was before the flag was raised, before folk nursing grudges and high ideals began to gather like crows to harvest. It makes a difference, to her mind. She'd wanted that quiet village. Settle down, learn an honest trade, maybe give Sorrel and Fox a chance to be kids again for a little while.

Her gaze falls on a man standing at a street corner, dressed in cured leather armor and leaning almost ostentatiously on a spear. She grimaces. One of the so-called Town Guard. She's seen this before: folks with swords on their hip and dreams of glory-to-come in their eyes, full of talk about freedom and standing up for what's right. Sounds good, if you don't know any better.

"Something wrong?" Sorrel's a sharp-eyed boy of about eleven. Like a lot of boys his age, he's in a terrible hurry to grow up. Unlike many, he's doing a fair job of it - she figures there’s a lot of so-called adults who aren't doing half as good a job. Quiet. Pays attention. Takes the idea of responsibility seriously. Maybe too seriously, sometimes. He's a good kid, but she can’t help but worry about him. Doesn't smile enough. Being grown up's not everything it’s cracked up to be.

"Mama, look! Horses!" As always, the word Mama sends a peculiar shiver up her spine. Shy Fox is just as ill-named as Rill; she is six years old and does not know the meaning of the word self-consciousness yet. Rill can't bring herself to mind, though; when they first met the girl was timid, hiding behind her brother and refusing to speak to strangers. A semblance of stability - first traveling with Rill, and then living on the outskirts of Denan - has done her a world of good. "Can we go see them?"

"We shouldn’t bother them, Fox."

"I’m not gonna bother them, I just wanna look!"

Rill gives her charge a Look, which passes completely unnoticed. "We need to talk to Harol, Fox, remember? The fletcher?"

"I don’t like Harol. His goat bit me."

A real mother would probably be better at arguing with small children, Rill reflects. She gives in; the town guards are headed out to meet the caravan, and Fox is still leery of strangers up close. (Self-consciousness, no; fear yes.) Rill doesn't like to say no, not when the girl is just starting to come out of her shell. She glances at Sorrel, who is already nodding: I'll watch her.

"All right," she concedes. "You can go. I'm going to go see Harol and Coutan, and then I'll stop by Laipan's place - she's the herbalist, remember? - you can meet me there when you're done. Don't be too long."

Despite herself, she pauses to watch the pair as they make for the edge of the village. She half-expects Sorrel to look back and catch her eye, reassure her; he doesn't. Probably too busy keeping an eye on his sister. Smart. There's probably no cause to worry, but this crowd makes her itch. All these strangers. She wishes she'd brought her sword, rather than just a bowstave - but that'd draw the Guard's eye to her if anything would.

Ifni

2015-07-26, 06:47 PM

The word herbalist draws Angharad's attention - as does that all-too-familiar tone, all calm reason, yet holding hidden the faintly plaintive expectation of futility in applying said reason to a small child.

Her gaze finds the children first, a girl about Hawkthistle's size and an older boy, making their way through the crowd. She traces back the line of their movement to the woman who stands watching them, a hint of concern in her stance.

Not quite the village goodwife she'd expected. She could be a farmer, with those muscles, but she doesn't have the bent frame of long years of labor in the fields, and she's no girl - she must be close to Angharad's own age. A smith, maybe... but there's a flickering tension in her stance, that along with the unstrung bow on her back makes Angharad wonder if she's looking at a warrior. Of course, the two are not exclusive; in times like these, many a farmer or smith has sought means to defend their homes and work... and children.

Making a decision, she walks closer. "Pardon me. You mentioned a herbalist - could you point me to her shop? We've only just arrived."

Hawkthistle is still clinging close, eyes round as she regards the market square; this town isn't larger than others they've visited, but the noise and crowding is an unusual experience for both of them.

The_Snark

2015-07-27, 05:34 AM

Even now, the first thing Rill looks for is weapons: no blade at the hip, nothing stowed across the back, no walking stick, just a knife tucked into the belt. Not a threat; anyone with any sense carries something like that on the road. Then she takes in other details: somewhere in between young and middle-aged, dark hair, bad arm. And a child hiding behind one leg. Doesn't look like kin, not with that yellow hair, but she's hardly one to talk on that account.

"Not a shop," she says tersely, her voice less gentle than it was with her children. Neither patience nor tenderness come effortlessly for Rill. "Laipan lives on the south end of the village. Used to be the end, anyway," she corrects herself. "You reach the tents, you've gone too far."

She pauses, her gaze flicking downward for a moment, and relents a little. Six months ago, this could have been her. "I can show you if you like. It's not far."

Ifni

2015-07-28, 06:08 PM

"Thank you," Angharad replies, after a bare moment of consideration, offering a brief but warm smile. "I'd appreciate it, although if your own tasks are pressing, I'm sure I can find the way." She holds out a hand in greeting. "I am called Angharad. You live here in Denan?"

The_Snark

2015-08-01, 04:32 AM

"Close by." Rill clasps the offered hand briefly; no answering smile is forthcoming. She turns south and starts walking, motioning to follow. "I'm Laughing Rill."

The village square is crowded enough to make conversation difficult as they wind their way through. The unpaved road running through the southern end of Denan is noticeably emptier, but Rill doesn't feel the need to make small talk. Only once they're nearly to their destination does she glance back to ask, "One of you sick?"

Ifni

2015-08-02, 07:36 PM

"I'm never sick," Hawkthistle informs Rill, sounding rather proud of herself. With the diminishment of the crowds she has emerged to trot alongside Angharad, occasionally veering off to explore the side of the road, with its flowers and insects and occasional bird. "Except once when I ate -"

"No - I'm a fair healer myself," Angharad interrupts. "I need to restock on some supplies, and I like to talk to local colleagues in new places, make sure I'm not stepping on any toes." Her voice grows louder as she speaks, almost but not quite loud enough to drown out the realistic retching noises coming from the little girl as she persistently tries to share her tale of woe. "I haven't traveled to Denan before and I - Hawkthistle! Stop that!"

Hawkthistle indeed falls silent. Briefly. Then she sniffles, turns around, and goes over to the other side of the road, where she plunks herself down on the verge with her back to Angharad and her arms crossed.

"Sorry," Angharad says under her breath. "She doesn't always handle new places well." And I don't always handle her well - it feels like it should be getting easier with experience, but every month seems to bring a new development in her daughter's personality. Not to mention other capabilities... "You have kids yourself?"

The_Snark

2015-08-04, 06:09 AM

"Two," Rill confirms, stopping to accomodate the tantrum. If she's bothered by the delay it doesn't show. (She's not. Child-related delays are familiar territory, and her business today isn't urgent.) "Got a girl about the same age, and an older boy. He's a help."

She watches Hawkthistle out of the corner of her eye, careful not to be obvious about it. She doesn't know this kid, but a stranger staring isn't going to be a help. (The little girl may be Looking Away right now, but of course she'll have check to be sure her mother is aware of it...) Fox would be nervous, in her place. Not her kid, not her place to push. She keeps her voice low for much the same reason. "Traveling can be hard on them, that age."

OracleofSilence

2015-08-06, 04:43 AM

Jack Thatch

"Small words from a small man." Jack's accuser appears ready to say more, but one of his fellows places a hand on his shoulder. "We are strangers here brother. And as such, we should perhaps avoid accosting strangers, distasteful though they may be." The calmer man faces Jack impassively. "Still, know that my brother is correct. In the end, all the wealth you may accumulate counts for nothing. Only the quality of your soul is judged."

Quiet Mountain

The man pauses, appearing almost nervous for a moment. "Help is always appreciated, and for that offer alone, you are welcome here. Please, if you would, head to the Headsmans Hall. He can offer direction to your wish, and has asked for any capable travelers to seek audience on arrival."

Safiya

"Duels, horse racing, and self defense are all fine. And we don't forbid hunting in the forest, but be aware that as of a few weeks ago, it is not safe." The guard waves Safiya and her party through the gates, stepping aside briefly to maintain a safe distance from the horses hooves.

Angharad, Laughing Rill, and Hawkthistle

No updates as of yet, but you both get a Wits+Awareness check.

Obscurejones

2015-08-06, 05:19 AM

Django

2015-08-06, 02:53 PM

Quiet Mountain nods to the gate-man, and departs in the indicated direction. He makes his way slowly, taking plenty of time to absorb the ambience of Denan.

Ifni

2015-08-09, 02:31 PM

Angharad shakes her head slightly, but not in disagreement. She too keeps her voice soft. "Aye. Half the time it seems to excite her; meeting new people, seeing new places. Then it gets overwhelming and all she wants to do is hide - or throw a tantrum." She sighs, and then walks over to sit down beside the little girl.

For a few moments there is only silence. Eventually the child turns a little, enough to see her mother. The conversation that follows is quiet; one voice striving for even reassuring calm, the other small and plaintive and aggrieved. But eventually it seems to reach a conclusion; Angharad stands up, hoisting Hawkthistle up onto her back. Her weak arm protests the strain, but Hawkthistle is still small enough that she can manage for a while once the weight is on her shoulders, and from Rill's words they don't have far to go. Perhaps she shouldn't reward bad behavior with a piggyback-ride, but at least part of Hawk's petulance is doubtless coming from tiredness and sore feet.

She offers Rill a small rueful smile. "I think we're sorted out, for now - lead on."

A little further down the path, she asks, "If you were planning to visit Laipan as well - are you or your children in need of healing?"

Wits+Awareness rolls:

Angharad: [roll0]
Hawkthistle: [roll1]

The_Snark

2015-08-10, 03:41 AM

Rill shakes her head. "No. Herbs." She pats the satchel slung over her right shoulder. "I spent a lot of time out in the woods. Hunting, trapping. Don't know much healing myself, but I've got an eye for plants. I bring what I can to Laipan." The medicine woman usually pays in favors or goods, not coin, but that's all right. Always wise to stay on a healer's good side.

Her pace is slower, now, to accommodate the other woman's burden. Rill is comfortable with silence, mostly, but the pause seems to want to be filled, and after a few seconds she asks, "You just passing through, then?"

Wits+Awareness: [roll0]

Ifni

2015-08-16, 05:09 PM

"Perhaps. It will depend on what's actually happening here - I've heard more than one rumor. Traveling is hard on my daughter, as you say, and it'd be good to find a place of safety, but..." The healer grimaces. "Sometimes it's necessary to move on."

Her bad arm is protesting under her daughter's weight, but Hawkthistle seems to have found a comfortable position, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. Perhaps she's going to sleep, and her brief petulance was mostly fatigue.

"If you live nearby - could you tell me what's been happening here? The market was crowded, and it sounds like the Headsman is recruiting?" She pauses, and then adds, "I also noticed on the way in that the essence of Wood seems strong in the surrounding forest; do you know anything of the local spirits?"

OracleofSilence

2015-08-16, 05:55 PM

Angharad, Laughing Rill, and Hawkthistle

The healers house is now in sight, a small queue formed before it. A few elderly villagers, and a young mother by the look of it. As the trio approaches, Angharad feels Hawkthistle stir briefly, roused from her semi-wakeful state by something, before she clings tightly to the healers shoulders, nearly upsetting her balance. Despite her nervousness, no immediate cause is apparent.

Laughing Rill notices the brief moment of consternation, again with no apparent cause, but also spots the sudden attention of the young woman waiting before the healers house. She seems intensely focused on Hawkthistle, seemingly unaware of the herbalist attempting to wave her into the building.

Quiet Mountain

The "streets" surrounding Denan proper are bustling and clearly in the middle of development. Some are well cobbled, with smooth cut stones well placed and well fit, while others are simply dusty roads, and others are warren-like passages ways between new construction and clutters of tents. The citizenry is, perhaps, unusually armed, with shepards axes and dussacks a common site, on men and women alike, but despite this, most street corners have a guard or two, leaning casually on spears or tall shields and talking casually with passers by. All in all, the most universaly feeling in Denan is purpose. Most, at least in the outskirts, are here for a reason, even if they seem uncertain what that reason is, and signs of growth and development are everywhere, as are roadside shrines, and small totems to a thousand small gods.

As Mountain approaches the city center, the streets become more organized, the buildings more complete. The character of the people however, remains the same. Most appear to be villagers, such as would be seen in any corner of Creation. But to Quiet Mountains eye, it is easy to see through the facade. Soldiers, and other, less martial veterans of war are everywhere. Here there might be a Haltan brave, his arm scared by the thaumaturgical weapons employed by the Bull's forces, and here a young woman from the hundred kingdoms, burns on her arms and scars on her hands, the victim of some marauding army in one of the dozen small wars.

Finally, Quiet Mountain approaches the city center, the towering scaffolding surrounding the Headsmans hall obscuring it's architecture, both old and new, and the busy cries of a market day, with the extra excitement of new travelers and caravan goods filling the air.

That ran way longer then I meant it too. Whoops.

Jack Thatch

"Monks' bothered you too huh?" Jack see's a small, wiry boy, barely older then 14 by the looks of him, perched easily on a nearby wagon. "What're they upset at you for? They got a thing 'gainst street theater?"

Django

2015-08-16, 08:45 PM

Quiet Mountain takes in the people and places of Denan. He takes a deep breath, filtered by the Armor's benevolent systems. This was exactly what he had been looking for.

He enters the Headsman's Hall, looking for whoever seemed to be in charge. He passes steadily through the crowds, counting on his weathered jade-and-steel form to preempt any uncomfortable questions.

The_Snark

2015-08-28, 11:33 PM

"If you live nearby - could you tell me what's been happening here? The market was crowded, and it sounds like the Headsman is recruiting?" She pauses, and then adds, "I also noticed on the way in that the essence of Wood seems strong in the surrounding forest; do you know anything of the local spirits?"

"Not much. Folks I've talked to say the spirits round here're prickly but not like to kill. Worst that happens is you get turned around, run into a patch of nettles or itchoak. Don't take much of an offering to keep 'em happy, I hear, but I haven't been around long enough to know what to give." She pauses, and then adds, "Fellow I'm staying with, he's a woodcutter, likes to leave little carvings when he goes out. Says it's good luck." This seems to exhaust her reserve of words for the moment; she falls silent.

Living on the road has given Rill an almost sixth sense for being watched. Mostly it doesn't mean anything, just someone watching passers-by because it’s more interesting than staring at the horizon. Sometimes it’s not so harmless. Isn't always easy to tell the difference between someone who's just being careful and someone who's sizing you up for robbery and worse, either... Can't be too careful, when you’ve got kids. The lady by the door doesn't look too dangerous, but she's staring at Angharad's daughter more than she ought to be. Seems Hawkthistle noticed, too. One of Rill's hands falls to her side, but of course there’s no sword hanging at her belt, no easy way to tell onlookers back off, we’re more trouble than you want. This is Denan; she doesn't want to have to carry a sword to feel safe this close to (what's supposed to be) home. Maybe she ought, with all the strangers coming to town...

She gives the young woman a level look, none too friendly; in the unspoken language of the road it might translate as Back off or You got a problem, friend?

Ifni

2015-09-02, 10:52 PM

"That makes sense," Angharad replies. "Thank you." Only an answer to the second question, not the first, but maybe that's an answer in itself. Rill has been kind, despite what looks like a natural inclination toward quietness and reserve, so she remains silent herself, not wanting to press.

When Hawkthistle's arms tighten on her shoulders, she stiffens slightly. Her daughter can be temperamental, but there's usually some trigger. "Everything all right, sweetling?" she murmurs under her breath and over her shoulder, as she walks over to join the line, studying her surroundings once more.

Obscurejones

2015-09-19, 02:54 PM

Jack Thatch

"Monks' bothered you too huh?" Jack see's a small, wiry boy, barely older then 14 by the looks of him, perched easily on a nearby wagon. "What're they upset at you for? They got a thing 'gainst street theater?"

Letting out a particularly undignified snort of derision, Jack recollects himself and puts on his best noble and wounded air.
"They resent my superior grasp of enlightenment. It is my sincere hope that they can someday understand the lessons of earth and sky. To see the beauty in every bit of nature, the sublime nature of the humblest branches and stones. And in doing so pull the stick out of their asses."
Winking at the boy he finishes packing his equipment away.
"However, I try not to wait too long on the moral progress of others. Youth is a precious resource and I'd hate to waste my own. And you? Squandering yours consorting with holy men or making the most of the wisdom of street performers?"

Guancyto

2015-09-20, 03:53 AM

Safiya wasn't quite done with the guards, however much they wanted to move her along. "Not safe?" she asked, awaiting further clarification.

Shirzuh nodded. "Spirits, I'll bet? The Queen of Frost might fell ghost-kings in single combat but even she pays respects to the spirits of the land." There was a little pause where the guard might interject agreement or dissent, "since it's so terribly important to my lady, where might we find a shaman?"

OracleofSilence

2015-09-21, 12:19 PM

Quiet Mountain

The interior of the hall is a cavernous space, it's walls a mix of smooth-carved oak and seemingly uncut stone, it's ceiling vanishing into the darkness above. The only source of light is a single massive fire-pit running down the center of the hall, and surrounded by low tables, their purpose evenly divided between eating and administration. Towards the rear of the hall is a slightly raised dais, with a simple seat of rough cut wood.

Mountain's search leads him to an aging but powerfully built man, speaking to a small group of almost-uniformed soldiers. He looks up briefly at the sound of Mountains Jade-Armored tread, but finishes his business, listening to some report of a disturbance in the market square, before addressing Mountain's presence. "You were sent here from the gate, were you not? Well then. What are you here for?"

Angharad, Laughing Rill, and Hawkthistle

The woman starts slightly as she notices Rill's sharp stare, although this doesn't really change the focus of her attention. She briefly smiles an apology to the person behind her in line, waving them into the hut in her stead as she does so, and stepping to the side, out of the line. After taking a brief moment, apparently to consider her options, she nods to herself, then starts making here way towards Angaharad and Rill, calling out as she does so. "Hello Sisters, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jack Thatch

"Oh, I like to think I can do both at the same time." The kid smiles broadly, his teeth almost unnaturally white. "And you? What brings a man like Jack Thatch to Denan? Doesn't really seems your kind of place." For a brief moment, the boy's tone shifts and matures, although this might be brought on by an unfamiliarity with the language, whis wood-tongue being accented with... something.

Ifni

2015-09-21, 06:14 PM

One of Angharad's eyebrows twitches upward slightly at Sisters, but she nods to the stranger. "I have no objection; my business with Laipan isn't urgent." She glances questioningly at Rill.

Django

2015-09-21, 10:21 PM

Quiet Mountain

The interior of the hall is a cavernous space, it's walls a mix of smooth-carved oak and seemingly uncut stone, it's ceiling vanishing into the darkness above. The only source of light is a single massive fire-pit running down the center of the hall, and surrounded by low tables, their purpose evenly divided between eating and administration. Towards the rear of the hall is a slightly raised dais, with a simple seat of rough cut wood.

Mountain's search leads him to an aging but powerfully built man, speaking to a small group of almost-uniformed soldiers. He looks up briefly at the sound of Mountains Jade-Armored tread, but finishes his business, listening to some report of a disturbance in the market square, before addressing Mountain's presence. "You were sent here from the gate, were you not? Well then. What are you here for?"

Quiet Mountain looks slowly about. This place felt familiar to him, though he had never been. But it had much in common with the hunting lodges of his youth, and the many local gathering halls he had seen in his military service. It was a place where people of strength gathered.

He wished he felt at home here, among these folk. But he did not.

"I am... Quiet Mountain. I am here to lend my strength to Denan. Give to me your most dangerous task."

The_Snark

2015-09-21, 11:16 PM

"Go ahead," Rill says, taking advantage of the opportunity to look the woman over for weapons. Not likely but habit's habit. "Long as you don't take too long."

OracleofSilence

2015-09-22, 12:26 AM

Safiya

"A few minor accidents, some injuries. Everyone says it's spirits, and a few guides seem to have figured out the right offerings. Best to just take one of them along." the other guards are slgihtly restless, but they nod in assent with the speaker.

Laughing Rill and Angharad

"Thank you." The woman stops a few feet away from Rill, standing slightly closer to Angharad, with a slightly quizzical expression. "This might seem an odd question, Sister, but has your... daughter been acting strangely lately?" Hawkthistle shrinks slightly behind Angharad's shoulder's at the attention, but her nervousness seems to have subsided.

Rill sees no obvious weapons, but the woman's clothes are loose cut to allow a wide range of movement, and what appears to be a thin (obsidian? It certainly looked like obsidian.) needle is in a leather sheath at her waist.

Quiet Mountain

The older man appears briefly taken aback at Mountain's comment, but his buisnesslike demenour quickly returns. "Ah. One of the Bulls boys? They lead with that a lot." He strokes his chin, leather gloves rasping over his thick beard as he does so. "Most dangerous task you say? Well, I'm afraid we don't have many jobs for a warrior outside f that militia camp. If you mean dangerous in general... how about this. There are some rumors that a some Immaculates spotted a well known thief running a confidence game down in the town square. Let me know what's going on there, and report back."

Ifni

2015-09-22, 01:03 AM

Angharad's arched eyebrows are no longer at all subtle. "You want to know if my five-year-old daughter has been acting out when introduced to a new town full of strangers? I wouldn't call it strange, no."

Sister... it is used as the generic term of address, within certain religious communities. Have I just found a local Immaculate? She doesn't know enough about her enemies. She probably shouldn't leap immediately to the worst possible explanation...

"But it is an odd question. May I ask your name, 'Sister'?"

Django

2015-09-22, 01:28 AM

Quiet Mountain

The older man appears briefly taken aback at Mountain's comment, but his buisnesslike demenour quickly returns. "Ah. One of the Bulls boys? They lead with that a lot." He strokes his chin, leather gloves rasping over his thick beard as he does so. "Most dangerous task you say? Well, I'm afraid we don't have many jobs for a warrior outside f that militia camp. If you mean dangerous in general... how about this. There are some rumors that a some Immaculates spotted a well known thief running a confidence game down in the town square. Let me know what's going on there, and report back."

Quiet Mountain does not move, or betray any surprise at being linked to the Bull of the North. A mask of jade and steel is a great help in maintaining a poker face.

Still, he found himself a bit disappointed. Roughing up charlatans was less... Noble than he expected. Still, he gives the Headsman a firm nod.
"... It shall be done."

Quiet Mountain makes his way to the Town Square. He walks slowly, letting the armor's servos and systems do most of the work. Like this, it was easy to 'become' the armor, and to take comfort in its power.

Arriving in the square, he casts an essence-fueled gaze over all assembled, trying to discern who seemed the most suspicious.

8d10

OracleofSilence

2015-09-25, 12:04 AM

Angharad

The woman seems slightly taken aback by Angharad's response. "Odd? I don't see why it would be odd to ask if a... Oh. I see. Very well then, Sister. My name is Caithe. And I'm glad to hear that your child is adjusting well. Are you a refugee? Or ddi you come here as a merchant."

Quiet Mountain

Mountain quickly spots a quickly thinning crowd, still somewhat grouped around a low table, and , based off the sounds of disappointment, and derision, it's clear that a source of entertainment has just been taken from them.

Obscurejones

2015-09-25, 07:25 AM

Jack Thatch

"Oh, I like to think I can do both at the same time." The kid smiles broadly, his teeth almost unnaturally white. "And you? What brings a man like Jack Thatch to Denan? Doesn't really seems your kind of place." For a brief moment, the boy's tone shifts and matures, although this might be brought on by an unfamiliarity with the language, his wood-tongue being accented with... something.

"Well I'm a firm believer in this sort of political project and it's... Ramifications... And such... Yep... Big uh... Really big fan..."
Nod nod. leaning in he lowers his voice.
"I provide a litany of valuable public services in place beset and besotted by idealism. Granted t'would be unwise to list the full breadth of my services. But I'm like... An immune system. I rise up where I'm needed. Where too much silver and jade is being gathered foolishly."

Django

2015-09-25, 08:29 AM

Quiet Mountain walks over to the table, and the closest people nearby- a young man and a boy.

"... Hallo. Did you happen to see who was running the... Con game? A moment ago?" He doesn't seem particularly interested.

Obscurejones

2015-09-25, 08:58 AM

Django

2015-09-25, 10:37 AM

"I was unaware any sort of con was being enacted, sir. I did see a street performance, but I suspect it to be at an end."
Jack's cowardice makes its proper supplications beneath the notable armor, doing its best to pray away the colorful nature of his garb.

Quiet Mountain puts a hand to the chin of his helmet in consideration. "Hmm. Such performances may be meant as a distraction for pickpockets. Would either of you be able to describe the performers, since you witnessed the performance?"

Ifni

2015-09-27, 03:20 PM

Angharad

The woman seems slightly taken aback by Angharad's response. "Odd? I don't see why it would be odd to ask if a... Oh. I see. Very well then, Sister. My name is Caithe. And I'm glad to hear that your child is adjusting well. Are you a refugee? Or ddi you come here as a merchant."

Angharad shrugs. "A little of both, I suppose. I have some training as a healer and midwife, but I also wanted to find a safe place." She pauses, then adds, "My name is Angharad, my daughter is Hawk. And you, Caithe? What brings you to Denan?"

Guancyto

2015-09-28, 02:59 AM

Safiya and her entourage remain but a short time making inquiries; if the people of Denan have the matter of spirits well in hand (or at least some semblance of sorted) then she will instead seek to secure her noble privileges with the people in charge. This leads her and her companion in the direction of the Headsman's Hall, as her entourage goes to see about lodgings. By some small coincidence (which is to say, no coincidence at all), it also crosses her path with that of the armored man and the scoundrel he happens to be contending with.

Her dog Faithful plods up to the two of them and immediately sits down, looking at Quiet Mountain in hopes of another piece of meat.

"My lady, was your hound always such a good judge of character?" Shirzuh asks, smiling.

"He was ever a good judge of who possessed food," Safiya says without missing a beat, and swung down off her horse with the sort of ease of one descending a staircase. "You are the peacebringer," she acknowledges Quiet Mountain, "I expect we will see a great deal of one another in the days to come." Jack Thatch merits a moment's consideration, "thought I am surprised that your first choice of companions would be a Fool."

Obscurejones

2015-09-30, 04:14 AM

Quiet Mountain puts a hand to the chin of his helmet in consideration. "Hmm. Such performances may be meant as a distraction for pickpockets. Would either of you be able to describe the performers, since you witnessed the performance?"

"I didn't get a good look at the performer, sir, but I did see his confederates. A couple of charlatans masquerading as monks. Clad in dusty traveler's robes. I believe they went that way, sir."
Jack points after the passed on holy men.

The_Snark

2015-09-30, 07:55 AM

Rill's gaze lingers on the obsidian needle. That's no belt knife, made for everyday tasks more than defense. No edge. A weapon like that (and it is a weapon) is only good for stabbing people in close quarters.

Angharad's asking the right questions. Rill stays quiet, keeping a none-too-friendly eye on this Caithe.

OracleofSilence

2015-10-04, 11:31 PM

Angharad, Rill

"Business of a kind. I have some small expertise with Spirits, and given the stories around this place, I figured that this would be the place to improve it." Caithes expression does not change, but she has clearly noticed Rill's scrutiny.

Jack Thatch, Quiet Mountain, Safiya

The youngster hops down from his perch on the wagon, watching the going son with barely contained glee: clearly be best entertainment he's seen in days. "Ohhh, come one, that's no fun Jack! What did the Monks ever do to you?"

Django

2015-10-05, 08:24 PM

Quiet Mountain looks down at Safiya's hound for a long moment, his mask obscuring his expression. He nods in what he feels is a polite way to the dog's master. "... Companion is a bit much. I am interviewing him as to a potential crime." As he speaks, his Northern accent grows more noticeable.

He hears the boy's interjection, and looks to Jack Thatch again. "Oh? Did you have some quarrel with these monks, Mister Jack?"

Obscurejones

2015-10-05, 10:04 PM

Django

2015-10-09, 04:40 PM

"None worth speaking of. They were rather rude to me for no particular reason. I offered them some counsel that they did not seem to care for. Perhaps you know the sort of men who think more strongly of their delusions then they do of simple sense."

Quiet Mountain nods in agreement, and his helm's eyes gleam in a solemn manner. "... It is settled, then. You shall come with me, and identify those who have wronged you so. We shall extract an apology, and at last, the identity of the charlatan."

Quiet Mountain's Jade guantlet claps onto Jack's shoulder on what is meant to be a warm and friendly gesture, but almost certainly feels like a set of heavy manacles. The armored hand does not Brook refusal, as Quiet Mountain leads them both toward the monks.

Guancyto

2015-10-09, 10:43 PM

"Princess, this is almost certain to end poorly," Shirzuh murmured in Safiya's ear, likely having a more accurate understanding of the situation than the Princess herself, "the man is clearly a scoundrel, being taken to confront men he has wronged."

Safiya nodded, "if half the rumors are true, the monks he speaks of are no contemplatives, and will respond, yes, poorly." She thought to herself for a moment, looking at the little con-man and the mechanized soldier. "It is poor fortune to see a Fool bleed in the street," she decided, and spurred her horse, bringing her alongside the pair.

"Peacebringer," she addressed Quiet Mountain again, "I trust you will have no objections to my accompanying you to see justice done." Although phrased as a question, she had the distinct tone of someone who was going to tag along whether he objected or not.

Obscurejones

2015-10-09, 11:14 PM

"...Well I can think of no cromulent objection to raise to either of these courses of action."
More's the trouble. Jack does his best to remember who it was irreverent bastards pray to when they find themselves moments from the wrath of the righteous.
3 Intelligence + 3 Occult + 1 stunt[roll0]

Django

2015-10-09, 11:56 PM

"Peacebringer," she addressed Quiet Mountain again, "I trust you will have no objections to my accompanying you to see justice done." Although phrased as a question, she had the distinct tone of someone who was going to tag along whether he objected or not.

"Certainly. Witnesses are important to criminal investigations."

Ifni

2015-10-16, 07:45 PM

Angharad, Rill

"Business of a kind. I have some small expertise with Spirits, and given the stories around this place, I figured that this would be the place to improve it." Caithes expression does not change, but she has clearly noticed Rill's scrutiny.

"Stories?" Angharad asks. With such an obvious bait, it's a reasonable bet the other woman wants her to take it. "I haven't heard much along those lines, but perhaps I just haven't been talking to the right people. Is there an active spirit court nearby?"

The potentially more dangerous question, And just what is the nature of your expertise with spirits?, she leaves for later.

OracleofSilence

2015-10-20, 04:34 PM

Angharad, Rill

"Ah, I thought you had heard. Rumor is, there isn't just a spirit court here, but they are behind all the... well, behind all the rumors here. Some people say they run things, rather then the Headsman. A few people even claim to have seen them walking through town." Caithe

The Market Crowd

While the two monkish travelers are long gone, it is easy enough to follow them, based off the small clusters of market goers whispering about "Immaculates", along with a few other phrases that are, perhaps, less flattering. A few minutes of walking finds the two crouched by an intricately carved shrine on the wayside, talking quietly and seriously to a small man, himself robed as well. While the distance is too great to make out the actual contents of the conversation, it appears, at least for now, to be friendly.