EMPIRE 6! - Mamut, Round 5, Event - The Snortsmoot [Archive]

View Full Version : EMPIRE 6! - Mamut, Round 5, Event - The Snortsmoot

Gengy

2020-09-06, 05:19 PM

This is an event for the on-going - mostly always recruiting - world-building game, Empire 6 (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?615670-Empire-6-Embers-of-Dawn-IC). If interested, please check out our OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?615659-Empire-6-First-Light-(OOC-1)) here.

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The Snortsmoot

Swampum is a terrible place to live. There are very few visibly constructed buildings, it’s rife with danger, and is – in fact – more swamp then home.

Unless, of course, you are one of the Uzii whose families have lived here for generations. Then the slow-moving waters, gnarly blue leaved trees, and unavoidable dangers are all just part of growing up. You would notice that the trees also hide secret occupants, and depending on your disposition, it’s hard to say for sure which occupant is worse: finding yourself a Swamp Cat who is ready to fight for it’s food, or finding the Den of an Uzii family that is ready to fight. For any reason. At all. Even just because it’s morning. Or afternoon. Or night.

Uzii like to fight.

This occasion, though, they are fighting for a reason that other cultures might recognize as important. The Snortsmoot is held once every 20 years, to decide who among the Tuskers – leaders of the eight Snorts of Swampum – is the strongest and deserves the right to be called the Homage. The last Snortsmoot was won by the current Homage, Death-Grasp Mudmore. His oldest son, Tusker Hate-Grip Mudmore, is the favored victor for this year’s competition.

Surprisingly, the Tusker of Snort Thumpstrong, Shaman Deep-Sigh Thumpstrong has chosen not to participate in this year’s Snortsmoot. This is shameful to the Thumpstrong clan, but they are mostly Shaman themselves and seem to understand why Deep-Sigh is choosing instead to judge the competition.

Meanwhile, the other Snorts all do have Tuskers coming forth to compete. The oldest among them is Tusker Crack-back Toadgrow, who is only a little younger than Homage Death-Grasp. Tusker Proud-laugh Rocktusk is five summers younger than Crack-back and is thought to be the second favorite of this competition. Snorts Clearfang, Swiftspear, and Groundpound all have new Tuskers within the last year; it not being unusual for Sounder Alphas to challenge for the right to lead a Snort the year before a Snortsmoot. Not much is known about Stab-blood Clearfang, Rip-tear Swiftspear, or Take-hit Groundpound, but they are all supposed to be strong and capable Uzii. The dark horse this year is Tusker Rage-win Jumpgood, who is the same age as Tusker Proud-laugh, but in the recent has been focusing more on the Targiz sport of Toad Racing. While none would dare call Tusker Rage-win weak, many question his dedication to becoming Homage.

Filling the place of Tusker Deep-Sigh is another member of Snort Mudmore; the oldest son of Hate-Grip became a Sounder Alpha recently and has been spending quite a bit of time with the Homage personally. Alpha Closed-fist Mudmore is the youngest competitor in the Snortsmoot and a few older Uzii are offended that he is being allowed to compete.

Alpha Closed-fist has beat down anyone that has complained to his face, though, so many have seen his strength as a warrior. With his grandfather’s support, Closed-fist is being allowed to take part in the competition. It is still expected that he will lose but should his father Hate-grip become the Homage, there will be no challengers for him to become Mudmore’s Tusker.

Traditionally, the competition takes place in the center of Swampum, near the Ancestral Baths where the first Uzii was said to have been reborn. These baths are at the top of a large cuesta, and flow down the sharp drop into more baths and eventually into the otherwise still waters below. The rumors say that taking a bath in these waters allows the soul to be cleansed of impurities. Certainly, soaking within them is quite relaxing. Enough that no Uzii even tries to grumble – much less fight - while sitting calmly in the waters.

When not overseeing competitions, Tusker Deep-Sigh can often be found near the Baths, if not inside them. The various Baths are large, and each of the main three has a slightly different temperature. Etiquette prevents anyone from entering without first removing all their clothing and laying their weapons down; able to be seen, but not wielded easily. There is no deference to gender, so be prepared to see a lot of naked boar people.

On the outskirts of these hot springs, ringing the sloped side of the cuesta, are the Mudbaths. At first caused by the runoff of the hot springs, these mudbaths are themselves a warm and relaxing treat for the Uzii. In the rest of Swampum, a mudbath is a place you can get a little rowdy in, but out of respect of the Ancestral Baths, the Thumpstrong Mudbaths are quieter and has fewer mud-ball fights. Stab-blood Clearfang, Rip-tear Swiftspear, and Take-hit Groundpound have each been seen within or around the mudbaths, trying to garner support with various Sounder Alphas from other Snorts.

The Thump Flats is a small island in the middle of a still water lake that can be seen from both the Ancestral Baths and the Mudbaths. It is here that the primary competition takes place in a series of one on one duels, often till one opponent cannot stand. Being thrown into the water is also a way to lose, but so few Uzii use this method, preferring to charge into their opponent and fight with their knuckles and fists. Weapons are not allowed on the Thump Flats, but that doesn’t stop bloodshed from occurring from a well-placed gore with a sharp tusk. Death on the Flats is rare. The first competitors for this Snortsmoot are Tusker Crack-back Toadgrow and Tusker Proud-laugh Rocktusk. As two of the most respected living Tuskers – as well as their Snorts sharing borders – they have scores to settle with each other and demanded the honor of the first duel.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the cuesta is a new addition to Swampum this year: a massive reception tent. This Meet Place, as the Uzii call it, is where all the guests from the rest of Mamut are being welcomed by Homage Death-Grasp Mudmore, his son Hate-grip, and his grandson Closed-fist. The Homage himself is starting to show his age; his muddy brown fur is now half white, and his impressive muscles are beginning to flag when he moves too far without rest. Yet the scar upon his chest from his fight against Clan Alqar many years ago is still a war wound he displays proudly, and he’s very excited to see just how many other nations of Mamut wish to enter Swampum for some “not-fight-talk”.

The guests arriving – with help from guides from the Fartrek Clan and small river boats pulled by Battle Toads – would see the Meet Place in front of the half-hill escarpment, but all around the large meeting tent are various Small Isles that seem to be the place for various games and competitions. As the Snortsmoot usually lasts several days, these lesser games are ways to keep the Uzii in attendance entertained. Overseen by the visiting Den Mothers, Tusker Rage-win is here, helping to prepare those that want to try and ride a Battle Toad that has yet to accept a rider. This is a dangerous part of the Battle Toad’s Training, but if done as entertainment, finding a good spot to attempt it can only dismount the would-be riders into a deep part of the swamp.

Additionally, the Small Isles have a few other games. Wrastlin’ is popular, because it’s a smaller one on one duel where if you draw blood, you lose. The only way to win is to throw or push your opponent into the water. Dire Fly Swatting is a competition of dexterity, patience, and intelligence. Dire flies tend to only land when they feel it’s safe, so the rowdy Uzii often don’t have the placidity to succeed, much to the amusement of the onlookers. The largest of the Small Isles has an impromptu Ko-Ball Scrimmage match that… just doesn’t seem to end. The Ko volunteers who have been visiting Swampum for over a decade take turns being the ‘ball’, but the overall game grows and shrinks in size based on whomever is interested in playing in the moment. It is definitely not League Standard rules, but those who want to watch can climb one of the nearby trees and help referee from the sidelines.

The most dangerous game is Swamp Cat’s Tail. Uzii Hunters have trapped a Swamp Cat in a tree, and kept it fed for weeks until it now considers the new tree it’s home and is almost always napping from overeating. The most silent and lithe of competitors attempt to sneak in and yank once on the Swamp Cat’s Tail, with scores based on how quickly they do it and how loud a noise the Swamp Cat makes when it wakes up. Waking the creature before reaching it is a disqualification from the game… and possibly from life, if the Swamp Cat has tired of having its tail pulled. Non-Uzii do get some help from the spear wielding hunters if they try and fail, but it’s still a dangerous sport. However… it’s a good way to gain respect among those watching!

Overall, there is games, fighting, feasting, fighting, and even some not-fight-talk happening. All the Sounder Alphas, their mates, and the Snort Tuskers are in attendance. The Homage is in a good mood, the Thumpstrong Shaman are keeping things from going crazy, and here and there, several Den Mothers are telling stories to visiting whelps.

Welcome, one and all, to the Snortsmoot!

Name
Leads
Location

Homage Death-Grasp Mudmore
All Swampum
Meet Place

Tusker Hate-Grip Mudmore
Snort Mudmore
Meet Place

Tusker Deep-Sigh Thumpstrong
Snort Thumpstrong
Ancestral Baths

Tusker Crack-back Toadgrow
Snort Toadgrow
The Thump Flats

Tusker Proud-laugh Rocktusk
Snort Rocktusk
The Thump Flats

Tusker Stab-blood Clearfang
Snort Clearfang
Mudbaths

Tusker Rip-tear Swiftspear
Snort Swiftspear
Mudbaths

Tusker Take-hit Groundpound
Snort Goundpound
Mudbaths

Tusker Rage-win Jumpgood
Snort Jumpgood
Small Isles

Alpha Closed-fist Mudmore
Sounder Muddeep
Meet Place

Location
Description

Meet Place
A large tent made of leathers and furs, where guests are first encouraged to go

Ancestral Baths
A calm place at the top of the large cuesta where hot springs of varying temperatures are good places for viewing the main competition

Mudbaths
Warm mud runoffs from the Baths above, the lower you go on the cuesta, the dirtier the bath. Mostly calm out of respect for the solemn occasion.

The Thump Flats
A flat island with few trees that can be seen from the Ancestral Baths or the Mudbaths. The Snortsmoot dules happen here.

Small Isles
Smaller to middle sized islands amid the swamp that are good places for games and competitions

Swamp Trees
Trees that can be climbed to see events, or if privacy is needed, the Dens below are available to guests

The Snortsmoot Duels - Available only to the Uzii of Swampum, these are the main event. Duels will happen periodically during the Snortsmoot, and the winner of the overall tournament will be the new Homage.
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Battle Toad Training - Available for anyone, but possibly causes injury if thrown off the Battle Toad the wrong way. Roll 2d4+(Half) Military to hang on, and 2d4+Diplomacy to speak soothing words. You fall off - hard - with a 5 or less on either roll, and tame the beast with a 10 or higher on both rolls. Failure to succeed, but getting at least a 5 on grip, eventually throws you into the water safely. Points for big splashes on the way down.
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Wrastlin' - one on one duels to throw or push your opponent in the nearby water. Drawing blood on your opponent means you lose. Roll 2d6+(Half) Military (if you aren't a Nation Leader or Hero). Dueling Cultural Identities increase your die size, but going over a 16 means you scratched your opponent! Rolling a tie causes a re-roll. (Intrigue players may use Intrigue in place of Military to make their opponent lose, but if you are discovered, be prepared to be challenged to a real duel.)
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Dire Fly Swatting - Sit, be patient, and let the Dire Fly come to you. Then squish it. Very hilarious to watch, since Uzii are not often patient. Roll 2d6+(Half) Faith to show off how patient and smart you can be before you swat a volleyball sized fly. Faith head nation players of organized faiths roll full Faith. TN 10 to swat the fly, TN 16 to do so impressively! Scrim and Deru gain a natural +2 for being rocks and/or trees.
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Ko-Ball Scrimmage - Be the ball, be the player, be both! This vaguely resembles Ko-Ball, but is really about posturing and showing off for the crowd. Roll 2d6+(Half) Opulence to play and stand out! There's no victory conditions, so it's all just a friendly game. Still... Ko-Ball is popular in Swampum, so you will be remembered if you join in, play for a while, and impress those watching. Higher rolls are more likely to impress! Rules can be added, if an official League Standard referee shows up...
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Swam Cat's Tail - A dangerous game. Do not attempt without being willing to risk life or limb. Roll 2d6+(Half) Intrigue to try to sneak up on the sleeping Swamp Cat. Pull it's tail, and run! Don't roll an 8 or lower, or you'll wake it up too soon, though you are safe from injury if you don't roll a 5 or lower. A 9 or higher succeeds, but only with a 12 or higher do you actually pull the tail loud enough to make the cat yowl and delight the crowd!

Miltonian

2020-09-06, 08:38 PM

Ausar

2020-09-06, 11:30 PM

Leafhair arrives on the high branches of Issa-Ubben, a hulking Castain shepherding a small gathering of old Stags as a protection detail. His face is more lined than ever, and the leaves matted through his hair and rough clothing are more numerous than ever. Sliding down Issa's trunk, he takes a moment to get his bearings. Absentmindedly swatting mosquitoes he ambles over to the Meet Place, nodding to Death-Grasp as he enters the tent.
"Well met Homage; quite the imposing gathering you have here. How goes the war with the Flowers?"

-----

Outside, Issa waits for the Targiz to arrive - she has some questions to ask of their new neighbours.

Silent_Interim

2020-09-07, 12:24 AM

The Scrim delegation arrive with a minimum of fanfare. The Warspeaker Tior and two Scrimspeakers, Nithor and Lejah, arrive together but almost immediately part ways, the Warspeaker storming off to find someone to hurt.

Nithor and Lejah both head to the Meet Place. (Finally, a naming system that is comprehensible! Why can the other peoples of Mamut not be so considerate?) Nithor speaks first, clearly and smoothly, in the language of the Uzii. "It is my honour to represent Thun at this gathering, and my pleasure to finally travel to Swampum. I have wished to visit here for many years, but alas, duty has kept me occupied. I am delighted to finally be here, however, and am finding a newfound respect for the Uzii now that I am. I should tell you that I do not speak for Thun, but I do bear authority, and should you wish to have any formal dealings with Thun I am happy to facilitate." They bow deeply before stepping back.

Lejah bows in turn, and, with translation assistance from Nithor, also speaks. "I am Scrimspeaker Lejah, and it is also my honour and pleasure to attend on this fine day. I handle certain mercantile matters on behalf of Thun."

"And I apologize for the Warspeaker's failure to come and greet you. Upon arrival they expressed the intent to go and, as I recall it, 'beat some folks until they stop moving.' I'm sure that if they were present they too would express their honour in attendance."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, the Warspeaker has already found the Wrastlin' area on the Small Isles, and is more than ready to fight whoever shows up first to face them.

Aventine

2020-09-07, 03:53 AM

The Sọ́kǎu sail down along the coast and into the estuary to reach Swampum. It was all but unheard of for two chieftains as powerful as Sọ́gẹ Yúkró and Zbãyúik Nùkèu to travel together like this, and there is significant tension and awkwardness among the few dozen raiders and warriors they brought with them. To top it off, the old raider Ṭhùtšrũ had come down from the north as well. Two of the four most influential tribal leaders, and possibly the most renowned living Sọ́kǎu warrior, however the Uzii might react, it would certainly cause a stir back home.

The leaders make their way to the Meet Place. Yúkró and Ṭhùtšrũ with his bearskin, both now in their fifties and starting to show their age, and the younger Nùkèu, looking a little less certain than the others that he wants to be in the heartland of the people he was so recently meeting on the battlefield. After the translator they brought with them offers a short and barebones introduction to Death-Grasp and the others, Yúkró smiles, "I hear you have been generously hosting my beloved little sister."

mystic1110

2020-09-08, 10:42 AM

Three separate parties from Kursaal journeyed to Swampum and entered Meet Place around the same time.

The first is a delegation of Ko-Ball League officials, consisting of Olkan Referee-Priests, wearing their sashes of white and deep purple flowers that are so dark that they appear black. This group is headed by Redit’Anco Iddirf, a gregarious and surprisingly thin Goliath who is the head commissioner of Ko-Ball in the Targiz. As he enters he is slapping Uzii on the back and smiling and talking loudly:

CONGRATULATIONS! HA! Hail! to the vanquishers valiant. Hail! to the domineering heroes! Hail! Hail! to Swampum! The champions of the Mamut! Well done! Our boys gave you a run for your tails this season, but well done!

The second delegation is much more morose - it is Rocnab, much thinner and paler than she was last seen in Towerhome. Given the Uzii's crusade against the Amaryllis flowers their wine import had greatly suffered and her father had sent over to reestablish such trade. She had long stopped drinking the cursed wine . . . much. She still had some bottles rationed away back in Kursaal to get her through tough nights, but mostly she was over it. She was over it. Honestly. Barely touches wine anymore. No, really - she tried to stay away from all wine entirely; which made her job much harder. What kinda merchant couldn't partake of her own merchandise. Regardless she had a retinue that caries at least twenty pots of Flower Wine - absolutely no Amaryllis wine. Less for respecting Uzii culture and more for not giving her an excuse to fall into temptation. She enters Meet Place with her hands outwards palm up in the traditional Goliath greeting and wearing a flower crown of peace that is remarkably in disarray - her twitching fingers not able to make the intricate knots anymore.

Greetings Homage, I am Ank’Anske Rocnab, and my father, Ank’Anske Nihc, master of the Vineyards, and the other esteemed Vintners of Targiz warmly wish you well. These clay pots hold some of the best wine in Targiz. The pots are lined with Living Wood from the Deru which enchances the flavor and makes them more full-bodied compared to any wine you’ve tried before

The final delegation is a strange one, and even the Rocnab and Iddirf look at them warily. They are four Goliaths wearing leather cloaks with hoods, and one of them holding on to a copper chain that connected to a thin band around the neck of their leader - a strange bird like creature, covered in feathers that would have been iridescent if they were not so poorly taken care of. The bird like creature smiles with pointed teeth and bows, holding one wing below it and extending the other. There is something mocking in its bow. The four Goliaths, even the one that holds its chain, are silent and let it speak for them.

Gre .. etings (the bird-like creature seems to speak with a stutter or the halting and unsure proclamations of someone who just learned how to speak) My name is Uitanot. My bro..thers and I are only farm..ers from the T..argiz. We have come to thank you for shar..ing with us the secre..ts of cheese. It is a marv..elous discovery and we wou..ld love to learn mo..re about your cultu..re and how you cultu..re. Uitanot breaks in hysterical laughter at his own quip only stopping after the Goliath holding its chain jerks it roughly.

~~

Issa, of the Deru, is welcome to stop and speak to anyone or all of the above delegations before they enter Meet Place.

Gengy

2020-09-08, 09:46 PM

'Den-Mother' Zinnia can hardly turn down an invitation so pleasantly and pleasingly delivered. She of course arrives with a small retinue of Ko warriors (or what the Ko consider warriors anyway). The swamp does pose a bit of a conundrum, however. Normally, a Ko of her station would wear opulent robes to a meeting of such importance, but she dares not risk getting them ruined by the swamp water. And so, for the first time in a long time, she appears wearing only a simple robe and a headdress, for she is so wealthy that she does not fear their loss. Her guards, for the most part, eschew their ceremonial dress too and wear carved wood armor over their bodies. It is primitive, but offers some protection.

This journey, however, took its toll on her. She feels a little sore and worn out. Age is beginning to catch up to her. She is not sure how many more of these she will be able to make. Best to ensure this one counts.

She makes her way to the Meet-Tent, intending to spend a pleasant time there and then maybe soak in the hot-springs, washing away the cares of the road. Once in the tent itself, she takes a moment to size up Homage Death-Grasp Mudmore. All the Uzii are impressive to a Ko, of course, but, well, it took a special kind to rule them all, did it not?

Another reason she liked this place was because they showed her proper respect. And so, she inclines her head to the Uzii leader in a sign of a similar sign of respect, but not deference. "I bring greetings from the Towerhome," she says, "Which, despite reports to the contrary, is not on fire."

Homage Death-Grasp Mudmore was becoming bored. He was stuck in this Meet Place, when there were fights and duels just outside. It was the worst part of the job of Homage, though. You had to be strong and clever for everyone and not just yourself. He'd been teaching young Closed-fist that, and the boy was learning. If he lived, his grandson would make an excellent Tusker. Perhaps even Homage someday. Yet that job, according to Death-Grasp's mate, included not fighting sometime, and instead - boring - talking.

At least the people he was going to talk to this time were interesting, and not some Shaman from some Clan he'd never heard of. No, today, the guests from Mamut would arrive! And among the first to do so was Den Mother Zinnia herself, looking absolutely great! No shiny things on her, but still had a fun hat. Death-Grasp had always wanted a fun hat, but you had to really find the right one. Any he tried to wear always fell off when he slammed his skull into whatever foe he was killing at the time. Or got smooshed. Smooshed hats weren't fun anymore.

Ooops, the Den Mother of the Ko was talking, "-greetings from the Towerhome, which, despite reports to the contrary, is not on fire."

As the local translator finished, Death-Grasp grinned fiercely. Yes, he could see why the Fartrek Clan was so enamored with this one. Nodding his own head ever so slightly, the Homage replied, "Fire is only good to warm yourself, or truly warm your enemies. The best is both at once! Welcome to Swampum, Den Mother Zinnia. You and your warriors are impressive, and we hope you have fun during the Snortsmoot."

"We do have sadness, though." The Homage huffs, "We sad to hear so many Flowerspawn started from Towerhome. We tried to find out if you all right, but so many cursed flowers too close too Swampum. Couldn't send a Fight Throng north so far to aid you.

The Ko have plans for dealing with the Flowerspawn and," the Homage spits, "the Amaryllis blight?"

However, Zinnia's delegation is not the only group of Ko present, of course. Theris, in the aftermath of her 'duel' with Thicket, has received both acclaim from her supporters and the unwanted attention of many assassins. Fortunately for her, she had made friends with some of the Ko who regularly toured Mamut for the Ko-Ball-D games, and was able to arrange a quick escape with them. But hiding out in some backwater shack is no place for a true genius and master of the arts! And so, as Zinnia is making her way to the Meet-Tent, Theris decides that a party is as good a place as any to gather a crowd and, just maybe, hire some foreign mercenaries...

She heads out into the party, a wide grin on her face. Decked out only in a multi-colored cape and a hat sewn in the shape of twin horns, she cuts what she thinks is a striking, dashing figure. And the cape has pockets, so its practical and fashionable!

Not wanting to make her debut at the wrong venue, she heads to the Small Isles and finds a suitably high rock to leap up onto. "Come one, come all!" she says, flaring her cape out throwing her foreclaws out. A finely colored mist appears around her, which comes from the contents of two tiny pouches that she let fall to the ground as the audience was looking elsewhere. The strange dust clouds swell up and rise into the air in response to the air currents left by her cape, turning the air around her into a myriad of colors. "Come and see the Great and Magical Theris, playwright, poet, and wizard!" She winks with a bit of suggestion in her tone. "And that's just before the lights go out."

Theris seems to have chosen a Small Isle that isn't as popular, but is between the Wrastlin' isle and the Ko-Ball Scrimmage. It's receiving a lot of traffic, but only in as much as it's a dry spot between the two more popular games. While this is, for an entertainer, probably a fantastic location... for the Uzii, this just means that the small Ko in the shiny clothes with her smoke and words is in the way. A few of them cough as they walk through the strange dust she has thrown out, but keep walking past.

The only audience Theris seems to have attracted are two small Uzii whelps, that are looking up at the Ko with curious eyes and excited grins. Judging from their size - barely larger than the Ko herself - they are likely still unnamed children.

They also don't seem to understand a single word Theris is saying. There are paying attention, though.

And this is a good location. Maybe some non-Uzii might show up...?

Leafhair arrives on the high branches of Issa-Ubben, a hulking Castain shepherding a small gathering of old Stags as a protection detail. His face is more lined than ever, and the leaves matted through his hair and rough clothing are more numerous than ever. Sliding down Issa's trunk, he takes a moment to get his bearings. Absentmindedly swatting mosquitoes he ambles over to the Meet Place, nodding to Death-Grasp as he enters the tent.
"Well met Homage; quite the imposing gathering you have here. How goes the war with the Flowers?"

Homage Death-Grasp had wondered to the Shaman of Mudmore - a long time friend - why the Meet Place tent had to be so tall. It made it hard to gather even more furs and skins to make the tent. The moment the Deru arrived, though, the aging leader of the Uzii understood: Trees are tall.

Even things that ride trees and slide off them to come into the tent are tall. It wouldn't be good to call this a Meet Place if the tent couldn't have someone from everywhere inside it.

Gazing at the being before him, the Homage nodded slowly. This was a topic he could talk about, "Flowerspawn are moving weird. Coming for Copper Land. Don't know why. We're gonna fight 'em though, aren't we Hate-grip?"

The Tusker of Snort Mudmore looked much like his father, but the fur along his back was a black strip that was carefully cultivated to grow just a little longer than the rest of his brown fur. "Gonna punch 'em to bits, Homage. Stab 'em real good."

"We is ready for 'em. Always had been. Always will be. Every Uzii of Swampum will stand and fight, if needed," the Homage grinned and pulled at one of his tusks, before raising his voice and shouting loudly, "Strength of Arms, Strength of Conviction, Strength of Family!"

Every other Uzii in the Meet Place stopped what they were doing and answered as one, "Honor for the Ancestors, Honor for the Clan, Honor for the Self!"

"See? We ready. We go and fight where needed. We burn the bad flowers, protect Mamut. You, though... You and the Deru is safe, yes? We've heard stories of a battle. And your face not one we have seen before in Swampum. You and the Deru are, of course, welcome here. You tell us who you are, though, and we can talk more about fighting against the Flowers, and what the Deru can do to help. Or what Swampum can do to help the Deru."

The Scrim delegation arrive with a minimum of fanfare. The Warspeaker Tior and two Scrimspeakers, Nithor and Lejah, arrive together but almost immediately part ways, the Warspeaker storming off to find someone to hurt.

Nithor and Lejah both head to the Meet Place. (Finally, a naming system that is comprehensible! Why can the other peoples of Mamut not be so considerate?) Nithor speaks first, clearly and smoothly, in the language of the Uzii. "It is my honour to represent Thun at this gathering, and my pleasure to finally travel to Swampum. I have wished to visit here for many years, but alas, duty has kept me occupied. I am delighted to finally be here, however, and am finding a newfound respect for the Uzii now that I am. I should tell you that I do not speak for Thun, but I do bear authority, and should you wish to have any formal dealings with Thun I am happy to facilitate." They bow deeply before stepping back.

Lejah bows in turn, and, with translation assistance from Nithor, also speaks. "I am Scrimspeaker Lejah, and it is also my honour and pleasure to attend on this fine day. I handle certain mercantile matters on behalf of Thun."

"And I apologize for the Warspeaker's failure to come and greet you. Upon arrival they expressed the intent to go and, as I recall it, 'beat some folks until they stop moving.' I'm sure that if they were present they too would express their honour in attendance."

"HA!" The Homage barked a short laugh. The rock people of Thun were well liked in Swampum. They helped finish the based for the Sentinels, which was greatly appreciated and just as greatly unexpected. "I would love to meet this Warspeaker. He sound great! I bet he found the Wrastlin' spot. Shouldn't be too long 'fore someone try to push a rock like that around!"

Homage Death-grasp certainly liked the idea of this Warspeaker more than the talky rock person with so many fancy words. Still, as Homage, you had to be the mightiest with words too. Had to set a good example for all the other Uzii, after all. "We might talk formal things, yeah. Not much into shiny stuff myself, but lots of Uzii like shiny things. Just gotta try not to be too greedy. Greedy people is stupid people. Or is smart people, but do stupid things. Hard to tell."

"Still..." The Homage waves at a younger looking Uzii, with brown fur like his own once was. The largest difference is this Uzii has a much darker left hand; like both the fur and the skin near it was all black. "Alpha Closed-Fist of Sounder Muddeep. My son's son. Strong boy. Smart boy. Knows when to punch, and when to reach out with open hand."

"Homage?" Closed-Fist walked close.

"Boy. These Scrim wanna talk formal stuff. Deals. Trades. Future things. Things that a Tusker or Homage have ta figure out. You know?"

"Yes, Homage!"

Death-grasp tilted his head to look back at the two Scrim, a jaunty smirk on his face. "He's a good boy. Needs to learn to not be greedy. Has ideas about having lots of stuff from all over Mamut. You send him to your Warspeaker if he give you trouble. Or just wanna watch a fun fight! HA-aa!"

Meanwhile, the Warspeaker has already found the Wrastlin' area on the Small Isles, and is more than ready to fight whoever shows up first to face them.

Almost as though the Homage's words in the Meet Place were prophetic, sure enough, there are quite a number of large looking Uzii who begin to gather near the Wrastlin' area. There is some pushing and shoving among themselves, and one of the bigger ones finally seems to win whatever silent argument they were having. He steps forward towards the Scrim Warspeaker, but a shadow suddenly falls on him from behind. Too oblivious to notice, the large Uzii keeps walking forward, intent it seems upon starting to wrestle with the Scrim.

Instead, he feels a large furred hand grab his skull and he is bodily picked up and turned around to look at one of the biggest Den Daughters he's ever seen. She whuffs a breath at him, and waves a finger in his face. "No."

"Den... Daughter?" The large male Uzii struggles in her grip, a bit surprised that he's being boarhandled so easily.

"My fight. Go away." With no other warning, she chucks the male into the waters nearby, and proceeds to walk forward herself. Nodding her large head towards the Scrim in the center of the Wrastlin' isle, the Warspeaker can see her tusks are a little smaller than the average male Uzii's tusks... but that's about the end of what she has smaller then her brethren. Easily standing at over two meters, the bulky female Uzii seems to have trained her body quite a bit. Her tan clothes are taught against her grey furred and muscled body, the only loose adornment a necklace of teeth on a string. Gazing out with a sharp look behind her brown eyes, the Den Daughter nods at her opponent, then points to herself.

"Pain-drop Redmoon."

Taking a fighting stance, the Den Daughter prepares to charge just as soon as she's acknowledged.

Rolled a 15 (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?614510-Empire-6-Embers-of-Dawn-Dice-Rolling-Thread&p=24701131#post24701131)! Looks like Pain-drop is gonna be a fun character!

The Sọ́kǎu sail down along the coast and into the estuary to reach Swampum. It was all but unheard of for two chieftains as powerful as Sọ́gẹ Yúkró and Zbãyúik Nùkèu to travel together like this, and there as significant tension and awkwardness among the few dozen raiders and warriors they brought with them. To top it off, the old raider Ṭhùtšrũ had come down from the north as well. Two of the four most influential tribal leaders, and possibly the most renowned living Sọ́kǎu warrior, however the Uzii might react, it would certainly cause a stir back home.

The leaders make their way to the Meet Place. Yúkró and Ṭhùtšrũ with his bearskin, both now in their fifties and starting to show their age, and the younger Nùkèu, looking a little less certain than the others that he wants to be in the heartland of the people he was so recently meeting on the battlefield. After the translator they brought with them offers a short and barebones introduction to Death-Grasp and the others, Yúkró smiles, "I hear you have been generously hosting my beloved little sister."

The joviality that the Homage had been feeling disappears. The Sokau tribes do not deserve such smirks and grins.

No. They deserve both more and less than that. Smirks and grins are for friends. The Sokau humans to the northeast of Swampum are not friends. They are something both much worse and much greater. Worthy foes.

Death-grasp had been preparing for their arrival. It was not easy, getting the words right, but he had practiced. For others, he did not care one whit if he said or did the wrong thing. For those that had earned the respect of the Uzii, it was the least the Homage could do was say the words right, and get their name correct. Rising to his full height and eyeing the Sokau warrior leaders, Death-grasp took a breath and said the words. The very important words. "Sọ́kǎu. Honored fighters. Deadly foes. Peace this day. Know that today and for all of the Snortsmoot, no Uzii will be first to cause you harm that you do not first invite with word or deed. On my honor as Homage, I would kill them myself."

That done, Homage Death-grasp Mudmore - The Tip of the Tusk, the Snortsmoot Champion, the Closest to the Mud - nodded his head in respect, and answered the question that had not quite been asked, "Yes. We have been 'hosting' your great warrior. She healthy, she safe. Mostly free to hunt in Swampum. Mostly. Some Shaman stay near her, keep watch. Until we know more about your thoughts about the Flowerspawn - now that you can see why we do what we do - she stay here. A great wrong to let so mighty a warrior perish. A great shame to not spare her. Soul-rend Proudhoof did the right thing. And for that, he died with great honor. We very sad for his loss, but... it was his time.

We fought then. We maybe fight more later. But not right now, right?"

Three separate parties from Kursaal journeyed to Swampum and entered Meet Place around the same time.

The first is a delegation of Ko-Ball League officials, consisting of Olkan Referee-Priests, wearing their sashes of white and deep purple flowers that are so dark that they appear black. This group is headed by Redit’Anco Iddirf, a gregarious and surprisingly thin Goliath who is the head commissioner of Ko-Ball in the Targiz. As he enters he is slapping Uzii on the back and smiling and talking loudly:

CONGRATULATIONS! HA! Hail! to the vanquishers valiant. Hail! to the domineering heroes! Hail! Hail! to Swampum! The champions of the Mamut! Well done! Our boys gave you a run for your tails this season, but well done!

The Homage was no longer bored. Here was a being that knew what was what. Death-grasp wasn't the biggest fan of Ko-Ball in Swampum, but even he was thoroughly pleased that the Swampum Big-Strongs had done so well this League season. Complete and total victory. Zero losses. Even defeating the previous champions utterly.

"Your boys do better next time, maybe. Maybe not, though! Big-Strongs strongest this time, no doubts about it!" The Homage snorted a chuckle, and smacked his son on the shoulder, "Hate-grip not like Ko-Ball, but not hear a single grumble about the game in months since our boys win so big this time."

Looking a bit apologetic, Tusker Hate-grip rolled his eyes, "I not not like game. Just think Uzii should focus less on game and more on training to fight."

"HA. This different kind of fight it is! Fight not for blood but for pride. Too many times we come in second. Show that Swampum good at the game, but not best at the game. Now? Now we is best!" The Homage grinned wider, and looked behind Redit'Anco Iddirf at his grandson. Alpha Closed-fist was staring at the head commissioner with a kind of silent fervor and awe.

"You no need to worry, though, Head League Man. Even if Hate-grip become Homage next, too many Uzii would fight him if he tried to ban Ko-ball. His son would be second in line, right Closed-fist?"

The young Alpha seemed to be at a loss for words for a brief breath or two, before nodding emphatically while still looking at the thin Goliath before him, "Right behind my Den Mother."

"HA-aa! Hate-grip's own mate! HA-aa-aa!"

--------------------

The second delegation is much more morose - it is Rocnab, much thinner and paler than she was last seen in Towerhome. Given the Uzii's crusade against the Amaryllis flowers their wine import had greatly suffered and her father had sent over to reestablish such trade. She had long stopped drinking the cursed wine . . . much. She still had some bottles rationed away back in Kursaal to get her through tough nights, but mostly she was over it. She was over it. Honestly. Barely touches wine anymore. No, really - she tried to stay away from all wine entirely; which made her job much harder. What kinda merchant couldn't partake of her own merchandise. Regardless she had a retinue that caries at least twenty pots of Flower Wine - absolutely no Amaryllis wine. Less for respecting Uzii culture and more for not giving her an excuse to fall into temptation. She enters Meet Place with her hands outwards palm up in the traditional Goliath greeting and wearing a flower crown of peace that is remarkably in disarray - her twitching fingers not able to make the intricate knots anymore.

Greetings Homage, I am Ank’Anske Rocnab, and my father, Ank’Anske Nihc, master of the Vineyards, and the other esteemed Vintners of Targiz warmly wish you well. These clay pots hold some of the best wine in Targiz. The pots are lined with Living Wood from the Deru which enchances the flavor and makes them more full-bodied compared to any wine you’ve tried before

For the first time in the last few hours, the Homage frowned. "We has heard of this wine. And we know we have deal to maybe get some some time. But... flower wine not much liked right now. Even if it good flower wine and not bad flower wine from very bad flower."

"As Homage, I not want to insult Targiz guests. Very fond of Targiz. Many Uzii have good things to say about you. But I have also heard that if you drink this wine - good or bad - you start to not think straight. Get a bit happy, yes, but... maybe get more violent. Then, so I hear, you wake up later with head like you ran into tree."

Snorting, Death-grasp shakes his head, "Some Uzii have tried your wine. They tell me it good, it safe, it not as bad as stories make it out to be. But... Water not do any of that to you. Sure, it maybe kill you if you drink from wrong place, but it not make a male Uzii more dumb and angry. So I ask. What you think wrong with water?"

--------------------

The final delegation is a strange one, and even the Rocnab and Iddirf look at them warily. They are four Goliaths wearing leather cloaks with hoods, and one of them holding on to a copper chain that connected to a thin band around the neck of their leader - a strange bird like creature, covered in feathers that would have been iridescent if they were not so poorly taken care of. The bird like creature smiles with pointed teeth and bows, holding one wing below it and extending the other. There is something mocking in its bow. The four Goliaths, even the one that holds its chain, are silent and let it speak for them.

Gre .. etings (the bird-like creature seems to speak with a stutter or the halting and unsure proclamations of someone who just learned how to speak) My name is Uitanot. My bro..thers and I are only farm..ers from the T..argiz. We have come to thank you for shar..ing with us the secre..ts of cheese. It is a marv..elous discovery and we wou..ld love to learn mo..re about your cultu..re and how you cultu..re. Uitanot breaks in hysterical laughter at his own quip only stopping after the Goliath holding its chain jerks it roughly.

The Homage seems to have missed the pun entirely, but nods upon hearing that the bird-creature wants to learn more about cheese. "Cheese from Rhödödendräk very popular in Uzii. We have been thinking of getting some ourselves, but sooo many flowerspawn to kill. Always something more important to do then set up trade boat to Farming Stones. Still, I think there may be an Uzii or two from there here at Snortsmoot if you look hard enough. They will probably be near the food. I hear they brought cheese to try! We looking forward to it!

More importantly," Death-grasp asks, "What happened to your feathers? Many Uzii want our wings back, and to see someone who has them looking like they not care about their own feathers... well. Some might say that insulting. Not me. I am smart. Just can't figure out why you look like that. You sick? Need help? Can teach you family secret for punching sickness."

Aventine

2020-09-09, 11:14 AM

The joviality that the Homage had been feeling disappears. The Sokau tribes do not deserve such smirks and grins.

No. They deserve both more and less than that. Smirks and grins are for friends. The Sokau humans to the northeast of Swampum are not friends. They are something both much worse and much greater. Worthy foes.

Death-grasp had been preparing for their arrival. It was not easy, getting the words right, but he had practiced. For others, he did not care one whit if he said or did the wrong thing. For those that had earned the respect of the Uzii, it was the least the Homage could do was say the words right, and get their name correct. Rising to his full height and eyeing the Sokau warrior leaders, Death-grasp took a breath and said the words. The very important words. "Sọ́kǎu. Honored fighters. Deadly foes. Peace this day. Know that today and for all of the Snortsmoot, no Uzii will be first to cause you harm that you do not first invite with word or deed. On my honor as Homage, I would kill them myself."

That done, Homage Death-grasp Mudmore - The Tip of the Tusk, the Snortsmoot Champion, the Closest to the Mud - nodded his head in respect, and answered the question that had not quite been asked, "Yes. We have been 'hosting' your great warrior. She healthy, she safe. Mostly free to hunt in Swampum. Mostly. Some Shaman stay near her, keep watch. Until we know more about your thoughts about the Flowerspawn - now that you can see why we do what we do - she stay here. A great wrong to let so mighty a warrior perish. A great shame to not spare her. Soul-rend Proudhoof did the right thing. And for that, he died with great honor. We very sad for his loss, but... it was his time.

We fought then. We maybe fight more later. But not right now, right?"

In response to the Homage's acknowledgement of proper hospitality, and promise to properly punish any breaches, Nùkèu visibly relaxes a little and Yúkró nods approval. Ṭhùtšrũ doesn't react, considering it to be merely what is required of any decent and honorable person and so not really worth much attention. However, his eyes narrow at the final question; if the Uzii respect hospitality and so won't start a fight, then asking that question implies the Sọ́kǎu might.

Yúkró politely ignores the insult: with so little contact between the Uzii and themselves, uncertainty over how the Sọ́kǎu would act is forgivable. But the rest of Death-Grasp's response was more troublesome. His smile fading, he responds more coldly, "It would have been better if she were here. As it is, you risk appearing to have something to hide, though I would not dream of suggesting so. It is good that we are both honorable, and have no reason to suspect each other. But still, there are things to discuss that she should be here for. My thoughts about the 'flowerspawn' depend partly on what happens here. I have an enemy that seems intent on leaving my land. It makes a great difference whether or not I have another enemy waiting, spear in hand, for me to turn my back and focus elsewhere. So you could say I am here to find out whether I have an enemy or a friend."

mystic1110

2020-09-09, 11:37 AM

I think Swampum brought a new age to Ko-Ball, I already know that the Hemlocks are looking for Coaches and have gotten word that the Unkindnesses are too. Iddirf turned around to look at Alpha. Ah, I see a great future player! I am thinking that in another four to eight years I will be talking to the other priests to see if we can establish a monument of fame in Kursaal for the great champions and have the names of each player in the winning teams carved their for all time. But enough about the future. He crouches low to face alpha in a easily recognizable Ko-Ball game stance Show me where the Ko are and lets throw them around!

~~

Rocnab scratches her arm uneasily and at first mumbles: Everything in moderation. It was hard for her to argue against Deathgrasp, what with her own completely private (she definitely did not send assassins to kill anyone who saw her lapping Amaryllis wine off the dirt floor) battle against crippling addiction. And yet, first and foremost she was a saleswoman and besides she would hate to disappoint her father any further. She collects herself and speaks with more assurance and thinking of how she could alter her pitch for the Uzii. Water is great of course. Nothing is wrong with water. But water doesn't make you stronger. Water doesn't test the drinker, Wine does. Everyone has a limit and the trick is knowing what your limit is and stopping right at it. It's like a game. No it's like a battle. A battle with yourself. How strong is your willpower if you never test your will power? That's what wine is - a war of wills. I would never call one a coward for not drinking wine - for not accepting the challenge and would hate for others too do so.

~~

Uitanot looks at its feathers in confusion and then caws with laughter Oh no, noth..ing wrong with them. These f..eathers are a curse in my land - too pre..tty. All the little anim..als can see you com..ing after them from far away! You need to ge..t dirt on them to blend in with the forest. You need to make them qui..te smelly so the wind does not carry your scent. You gots to look ug..ly! Ug..ly is good! He laughs at this last line. After a brief pause, Uitanot then suddenly narrows its eyes with what could be confused with curiosity Flow..erspawn? We've heard ta..les about these . . . terrib..le creatures . . . yes, quite terrib..le. We would gladly hear stories ab..out them, but perha..ps you are too busy. Let us know where your che..ese traders are and perhaps they will share ta..les of these . . . hor..rors . . . with us" The Goliaths holding Uitanot's chain are silent.

Miltonian

2020-09-09, 01:47 PM

Zinnia expected a question like this. The Uzii were known for their hatred of the flowers, even before they were proven right. Zinnia hid a wince. What did they plan to do? Hide in a hole and hope it all blew over, of course, but she couldn't just say that. Not the Uzii. That would ruin whatever goodwill that they had managed to garner.

And so, she exaggerated the truth. Drawing herself up proudly, she declared, "We are not afraid of these flower-spawn. Our lands are well defended, and many of them fell to us on their way out of the land." To the traps that Thicket had set, but that still was true, right? And they had no need to be afraid of them now that they were gone. "As for the flowers, we intend to burn the forests until they are purified. It will be a hard year, but our stores are well-stocked." All this was true. They intended to hole up for a year and hope this all blew over.

=====

A bit of the wind falls out of Theris' sails. She sweeps her cape around and turns dramatically on her heel. "Hmph," she says, "Uncivilized ingrates." She watches a few of the older Uzii pass by. "But...powerful. Best not to insult them, even the tiny ones."

She turns back to the children and bows dramatically. "Well! Until a larger crowd comes, my little friends..." She tosses a stone up into the air, opens her mouth wide, and swallows it. A moment later, she reaches out and pulls the same one from behind one of the children's ears. "You'll have to do," she says with a smile.

Gengy

2020-09-10, 03:29 PM

In response to the Homage's acknowledgement of proper hospitality, and promise to properly punish any breaches, Nùkèu visibly relaxes a little and Yúkró nods approval. Ṭhùtšrũ doesn't react, considering it to be merely what is required of any decent and honorable person and so not really worth much attention. However, his eyes narrow at the final question; if the Uzii respect hospitality and so won't start a fight, then asking that question implies the Sọ́kǎu might.

Yúkró politely ignores the insult: with so little contact between the Uzii and themselves, uncertainty over how the Sọ́kǎu would act is forgivable. But the rest of Death-Grasp's response was more troublesome. His smile fading, he responds more coldly, "It would have been better if she were here. As it is, you risk appearing to have something to hide, though I would not dream of suggesting so. It is good that we are both honorable, and have no reason to suspect each other. But still, there are things to discuss that she should be here for. My thoughts about the 'flowerspawn' depend partly on what happens here. I have an enemy that seems intent on leaving my land. It makes a great difference whether or not I have another enemy waiting, spear in hand, for me to turn my back and focus elsewhere. So you could say I am here to find out whether I have an enemy or a friend."

If the Homage intentionally insulted the Sokau Tribes, he certainly acts oblivious to it. Death-grasp's answer is simple, "We are enemies to those whom would harm Mamut, and allies of those who would protect it."

"If you stand up for those who cannot stand for themselves, we can respect that. You will have no Uzii waving a spear towards your backs as long as your acts are honorable."

Frowning, the Homage sighs and solemnly shakes his head, "We do not regret our own actions before that caused us to fight. The greater masses of the Uzii in Swampum do not like you of the Sọ́kǎu. But it is a dislike born of respect. You stood in front of a danger you did not fully understand, to guard a people that needed help. True; those people are, in the eyes of the Uzii, in a worse position now. Our cousins in the Hraban could not clear away all of the hated flowers because of the Sọ́kǎu's defense... but the Shaman have done what they can to make us Uzii see that your actions were doing the best you could with what you knew at the time.

"If you are changing your minds now that you know better, we can overlook our dislike. We would stand with you, if you want us to. I would lead the Fight Throngs myself, for the glory of our Ancestors and the safety of Mamut." Death-grasp grins a bit more freely, but his tone is still serious. It is clearly his own joy at the thought of glorious combat that makes him smile so. "Regardless, we have no reason to hold your mighty warrior here in Swampum. She was told only that you were invited to the Snortsmoot, and that she would be informed if we saw the Sọ́kǎu show. I expect that she will be here within a day. Last I heard, she was ranging through the Jumpgood lands to the northeast, fighting an old Bloat Toad that our own warriors have had trouble putting down. Heard she stabbed it in the gut when it tried to squish her. We Uzii are very impressed.

"While I have your attention," Death-grasp keeps his eyes on the Sọ́kǎu leader, "we have heard that the Sọ́kǎu tribes are skilled with boats and even make better boats then the Uzii. You may not be ready to exchange friendly words with us yet, but... maybe you can talk to the Targiz? I hear they been wanting to sail better."

"Know that this is not a condition. Just a thought. A way to improve Mamut more. If you talk to the Targiz about sailing, or maybe decide to share those secrets with us... or not at all, I care not. If you fight the flowerspawn, with or without us, we are pleased; your mighty warrior is free to go. Just listen next time the Uzii say something needs to be punched or stabbed. That is all I ask."

I know you have your reasons, Aventine, for not trading Sailing. I would like to get my hands on it, though, if only because it may be my best way to get a fourth region for Great Kingdom without more fights in Mamut. If I don't have Sailing, then in the future, I think my only recourse will be to try and take 41 again. Not that I think, IC, the Uzii will mind fighting you again. Just saying that in the long run, it'll be easier on us to start branching out from the mainland. But as Death-Grasp said, I would get it if you don't have any story reasons to trade techs at this time with Swampum. If you'd strike up a conversation and maybe trade it to the Targiz, though, as a neutral party?

I think Swampum brought a new age to Ko-Ball, I already know that the Hemlocks are looking for Coaches and have gotten word that the Unkindnesses are too. Iddirf turned around to look at Alpha. Ah, I see a great future player! I am thinking that in another four to eight years I will be talking to the other priests to see if we can establish a monument of fame in Kursaal for the great champions and have the names of each player in the winning teams carved their for all time. But enough about the future. He crouches low to face alpha in a easily recognizable Ko-Ball game stance Show me where the Ko are and lets throw them around!

The Homage laughed, and nodded at his grandson, "Go ahead, boy, take 'em to the Scrimmage match. Maybe they can bring some order to the chaos. Right now, I don't think there's anyone what who would wanna have rules there, but with the Head League Man here, they might just listen."

"Yes Homage!" Closed-fist seemed eager, and was quick to wave to Iddirf, "This way, Head League Man."

Making sure they follow, the Alpha leads the Ko-Ball League officials to the Ko-Ball Scrimmage match, where it's an absolute mess. While the players are predominately Uzii, there are quite a number of other races here. In the nearby trees - which act as both sidelines and seats for the fans - there are many Ko just watching, and waiting to jump in if the current 'ball' becomes tired. The Homage is correct in his guess, though; there is no real official keeping track of what is what, be it players, teams, or even score. There is a Den Mother nearby, frowning occasionally when some of the Uzii start to get a little rough, but it only takes a cough from her to settle the more aggressive players down.

Without her, this would likely turn into a battle-field that just happens to have a Ko occasionally thrown back and forth.

I leave it to you, Mystic, to decide if the Scrimmage game stays chaotic or if Iddrif and the officials try and split people into actual teams (large, non-standard size teams, I hope) with some rules beyond just "trying to impress people".

--------------------

Rocnab scratches her arm uneasily and at first mumbles: Everything in moderation. It was hard for her to argue against Deathgrasp, what with her own completely private (she definitely did not send assassins to kill anyone who saw her lapping Amaryllis wine off the dirt floor) battle against crippling addiction. And yet, first and foremost she was a saleswoman and besides she would hate to disappoint her father any further. She collects herself and speaks with more assurance and thinking of how she could alter her pitch for the Uzii. Water is great of course. Nothing is wrong with water. But water doesn't make you stronger. Water doesn't test the drinker, Wine does. Everyone has a limit and the trick is knowing what your limit is and stopping right at it. It's like a game. No it's like a battle. A battle with yourself. How strong is your willpower if you never test your will power? That's what wine is - a war of wills. I would never call one a coward for not drinking wine - for not accepting the challenge and would hate for others too do so.

"Wine that makes you stronger? Tests you?" The Homage appears to be considering the idea, but shakes his head, "I have fought many foes in my time. Swamp Cats by the score. Bloat Toads all over Swampum. Stupid people who tried to kill me. Smarter people who just wanted to spar with the best there is. I have fought Sounder Alphas, Snort Tuskers, and Heroes from other races. More terrifying, I have fought with Shaman and Den Mothers, and while I won almost all of those fights, they always made me do the one thing that Uzii aren't best at: think."

"So I know that the hardest foe around is the one I can't escape from. The one that knows when and where I sleep. That can strike me down and lift me up. Can keep me alive, or kill me. Hardest foe? Is self."

Looking Rocnab right in the eyes, Death-Grasp says, "Toughest fight to win against, is against self."

"Best warriors are either those that never have that fight... or have it all the time. The ones that know themselves to be their own best weapon, and sharpen themselves often. But those that lose that battle, they have a hard time getting up again. They are shattered warriors. Weak, even if their body is strong.

You say this wine makes you strong. But I ask: Are you getting back up easy?"

Even as he asks the question, the barrels of wine are waved in and accepted. It appears the Homage isn't refusing the gift, just trying to understand it.

--------------------

Uitanot looks at its feathers in confusion and then caws with laughter Oh no, noth..ing wrong with them. These f..eathers are a curse in my land - too pre..tty. All the little anim..als can see you com..ing after them from far away! You need to ge..t dirt on them to blend in with the forest. You need to make them qui..te smelly so the wind does not carry your scent. You gots to look ug..ly! Ug..ly is good! He laughs at this last line. After a brief pause, Uitanot then suddenly narrows its eyes with what could be confused with curiosity Flow..erspawn? We've heard ta..les about these . . . terrib..le creatures . . . yes, quite terrib..le. We would gladly hear stories ab..out them, but perha..ps you are too busy. Let us know where your che..ese traders are and perhaps they will share ta..les of these . . . hor..rors . . . with us" The Goliaths holding Uitanot's chain are silent.

Homage Death-grasp grins but shakes his head, "We don't think Uzii gonna agree with you 'bout ugly feathers, but I think I gets it. You do what you need to ta survive the swamps sometimes, even if it makes you smell bad; so long as your honor is clean, what's another reason for a bath?"

"Speaking of which..." The Homage crooks a finger at a guard, and the two have a brief conversation, before Death-grasp talks loudly once more, "The Uzii from Rhödödendräk are spread out, like I thought. They mostly near where food is, but their leader is in the Ancestral Baths. Ask for Smell-this of the Dendräkki."

"Before you go, though..." The Strongest, Most Honorable Uzii looks at the Goliaths nearby, "Why this bird in chains?"

Zinnia expected a question like this. The Uzii were known for their hatred of the flowers, even before they were proven right. Zinnia hid a wince. What did they plan to do? Hide in a hole and hope it all blew over, of course, but she couldn't just say that. Not the Uzii. That would ruin whatever goodwill that they had managed to garner.

And so, she exaggerated the truth. Drawing herself up proudly, she declared, "We are not afraid of these flower-spawn. Our lands are well defended, and many of them fell to us on their way out of the land." To the traps that Thicket had set, but that still was true, right? And they had no need to be afraid of them now that they were gone. "As for the flowers, we intend to burn the forests until they are purified. It will be a hard year, but our stores are well-stocked." All this was true. They intended to hole up for a year and hope this all blew over.

"Good! Good!" The Homage was very pleased, and not ashamed to show it. "You let us know if you need help. When we done killing all the infected, and have cleansed Mamut of their taint, Uzii would be happy to try and help Den Mother Zinnia. You is local big shot around here, if you didn't know! First leader of your people that the Uzii ever meet, first leader of non-Uzii we meet in a very long time. Lots of good things to hear about Towerhome. Even here you weren't happy with how safe it was there, so you made it hard to move around with lots of tricky challenges to test yourself!

We is very impressed by that."

--------------------

A bit of the wind falls out of Theris' sails. She sweeps her cape around and turns dramatically on her heel. "Hmph," she says, "Uncivilized ingrates." She watches a few of the older Uzii pass by. "But...powerful. Best not to insult them, even the tiny ones."

She turns back to the children and bows dramatically. "Well! Until a larger crowd comes, my little friends..." She tosses a stone up into the air, opens her mouth wide, and swallows it. A moment later, she reaches out and pulls the same one from behind one of the children's ears. "You'll have to do," she says with a smile.

The two whelps that Theris have attracted clap their hands and squeal with glee, and seem to be watching for more. The noises they are making are garnering a little bit of attention, but not enough to make any grown Uzii stop at the moment. Another whelp wanders over, though, and pushes right into the middle of the other two to see what's going on. There's a little jostling for position, and one of the three is knocked to the ground before getting up and stepping behind the others, not a care at all for the bruises they've all given each other.

mystic1110

2020-09-10, 05:49 PM

Aventine

2020-09-10, 08:52 PM

A bit of the wind falls out of Theris' sails. She sweeps her cape around and turns dramatically on her heel. "Hmph," she says, "Uncivilized ingrates." She watches a few of the older Uzii pass by. "But...powerful. Best not to insult them, even the tiny ones."

She turns back to the children and bows dramatically. "Well! Until a larger crowd comes, my little friends..." She tosses a stone up into the air, opens her mouth wide, and swallows it. A moment later, she reaches out and pulls the same one from behind one of the children's ears. "You'll have to do," she says with a smile.

A couple Sọ́kǎu happen to walk by, and laugh enthusiastically at Theris's antics. One of them calls out in horrifically mangled Arrakhi, "Ah! Little lizard; funny lizard! Dance? Dance!"

If the Homage intentionally insulted the Sokau Tribes, he certainly acts oblivious to it. Death-grasp's answer is simple, "We are enemies to those whom would harm Mamut, and allies of those who would protect it."

"If you stand up for those who cannot stand for themselves, we can respect that. You will have no Uzii waving a spear towards your backs as long as your acts are honorable."

Frowning, the Homage sighs and solemnly shakes his head, "We do not regret our own actions before that caused us to fight. The greater masses of the Uzii in Swampum do not like you of the Sọ́kǎu. But it is a dislike born of respect. You stood in front of a danger you did not fully understand, to guard a people that needed help. True; those people are, in the eyes of the Uzii, in a worse position now. Our cousins in the Hraban could not clear away all of the hated flowers because of the Sọ́kǎu's defense... but the Shaman have done what they can to make us Uzii see that your actions were doing the best you could with what you knew at the time.

"If you are changing your minds now that you know better, we can overlook our dislike. We would stand with you, if you want us to. I would lead the Fight Throngs myself, for the glory of our Ancestors and the safety of Mamut." Death-grasp grins a bit more freely, but his tone is still serious. It is clearly his own joy at the thought of glorious combat that makes him smile so. "Regardless, we have no reason to hold your mighty warrior here in Swampum. She was told only that you were invited to the Snortsmoot, and that she would be informed if we saw the Sọ́kǎu show. I expect that she will be here within a day. Last I heard, she was ranging through the Jumpgood lands to the northeast, fighting an old Bloat Toad that our own warriors have had trouble putting down. Heard she stabbed it in the gut when it tried to squish her. We Uzii are very impressed.

"While I have your attention," Death-grasp keeps his eyes on the Sọ́kǎu leader, "we have heard that the Sọ́kǎu tribes are skilled with boats and even make better boats then the Uzii. You may not be ready to exchange friendly words with us yet, but... maybe you can talk to the Targiz? I hear they been wanting to sail better."

"Know that this is not a condition. Just a thought. A way to improve Mamut more. If you talk to the Targiz about sailing, or maybe decide to share those secrets with us... or not at all, I care not. If you fight the flowerspawn, with or without us, we are pleased; your mighty warrior is free to go. Just listen next time the Uzii say something needs to be punched or stabbed. That is all I ask."

Yúkró considers things, uncertain how to respond. He doesn't believe the claimed altruism on the Uzii's part. Whatever they say their motives are, they have been aggressively expanding. Yúkró, and his Zbãyúik allies represented by their new chieftain Nùkèu, would happily admit that their own expansion is driven by desire to strengthen and enrich themselves and their tribes. They will naturally share their riches and power with their new followers, but it would be entirely dishonest to claim that that was their primary purpose. In the eyes of the four Sọ́kǎu, the Uzii are trying too hard to justify something that doesn't need to be justified and in the process lying, either to their guests or to themselves. It would be more honorable to be honest. Nùkèu and Ṭhùtšrũ share their companion's disbelief; the younger chief just stares at the Homage in confusion, while the old warrior snorts in derision.

Then there was the other matter. Why was Rẹ̌tšrìj kept away? It wasn't her choice, her brother knew too well to believe that. She would see the importance of the meeting and understand the importance of her presence. Death-grasp said he had no reason to continue to hold her, but that is exactly what he seems to be doing.

After the several moments of quiet consideration, Yúkró responds, quietly at first. "It really would have been better if she were here." After another quick moment of thought, he continues in, if anything, an even colder tone than before. "Given the current path of the flower-spirits, and what seems to be likely to be their destination, I would think the most natural choice for where to meet them would be the river. How they might handle the crossing, I have no idea, but I do not think it would be in their favor to meet us waiting for them on the south banks. And we are not going to go far beyond our own land and water anyway. Given recent events, I would think you would not find a warm welcome in [Region 41]. However, my sister seems quite popular there. We cannot discuss such a battle without her. And so I do not understand why she should be kept away from this meeting. You speak of protecting the lands and of standing with us, but I do not understand your actions here and cannot see them as friendly."

I've been focused on establishing myself in Mamut, but once I have a good base my plan is to turn my attention to the ocean. So my OOC reason for not trading sailing is to try to prolong the competitive advantage long enough to actually benefit from it.

Silent_Interim

2020-09-10, 10:42 PM

"HA!" The Homage barked a short laugh. The rock people of Thun were well liked in Swampum. They helped finish the based for the Sentinels, which was greatly appreciated and just as greatly unexpected. "I would love to meet this Warspeaker. He sound great! I bet he found the Wrastlin' spot. Shouldn't be too long 'fore someone try to push a rock like that around!"

Homage Death-grasp certainly liked the idea of this Warspeaker more than the talky rock person with so many fancy words. Still, as Homage, you had to be the mightiest with words too. Had to set a good example for all the other Uzii, after all. "We might talk formal things, yeah. Not much into shiny stuff myself, but lots of Uzii like shiny things. Just gotta try not to be too greedy. Greedy people is stupid people. Or is smart people, but do stupid things. Hard to tell."

"Still..." The Homage waves at a younger looking Uzii, with brown fur like his own once was. The largest difference is this Uzii has a much darker left hand; like both the fur and the skin near it was all black. "Alpha Closed-Fist of Sounder Muddeep. My son's son. Strong boy. Smart boy. Knows when to punch, and when to reach out with open hand."

"Homage?" Closed-Fist walked close.

"Boy. These Scrim wanna talk formal stuff. Deals. Trades. Future things. Things that a Tusker or Homage have ta figure out. You know?"

"Yes, Homage!"

Death-grasp tilted his head to look back at the two Scrim, a jaunty smirk on his face. "He's a good boy. Needs to learn to not be greedy. Has ideas about having lots of stuff from all over Mamut. You send him to your Warspeaker if he give you trouble. Or just wanna watch a fun fight! HA-aa!"
“Well, I will be sure to keep that in mind, Homage. In the meantime, I think Lejah and I will wander a little. See the sights, as it were. I’m sure it will not trouble you to find us if you wish to speak to us again.” The two bow once more and make their exit.

They don’t speak again until they are a reasonable distance from the Meet Place, and when they do, it’s in the low rumbles of Thun-tongue. “Disappointing. I don’t think he caught the implication.”

“Well, what do you expect? Uzii are about as subtle as Tior on a bad day. Well, except the Shamans. That's more like Tior on a good day. Speaking of, I should go corral them before they break anything. Or anyone. You’ll be fine by yourself?”

“Oh, yes. I think convincing the Uzii is unlikely, and anyway I don’t know if they have anything worth what we’d need, but I’m sure we can find someone. Maybe some of the Targiz? They’re a pleasant combination of mostly level-headed and exceedingly rich. But on the other hand, they’re sequestered so far to the South. Hm. Whatever the case may be, I’ll have a look around and see what I can see.”

"You do that.”

The two nod amicably at one another, before parting ways to go to their respective tasks.

Almost as though the Homage's words in the Meet Place were prophetic, sure enough, there are quite a number of large looking Uzii who begin to gather near the Wrastlin' area. There is some pushing and shoving among themselves, and one of the bigger ones finally seems to win whatever silent argument they were having. He steps forward towards the Scrim Warspeaker, but a shadow suddenly falls on him from behind. Too oblivious to notice, the large Uzii keeps walking forward, intent it seems upon starting to wrestle with the Scrim.

Instead, he feels a large furred hand grab his skull and he is bodily picked up and turned around to look at one of the biggest Den Daughters he's ever seen. She whuffs a breath at him, and waves a finger in his face. "No."

"Den... Daughter?" The large male Uzii struggles in her grip, a bit surprised that he's being boarhandled so easily.

"My fight. Go away." With no other warning, she chucks the male into the waters nearby, and proceeds to walk forward herself. Nodding her large head towards the Scrim in the center of the Wrastlin' isle, the Warspeaker can see her tusks are a little smaller than the average male Uzii's tusks... but that's about the end of what she has smaller then her brethren. Easily standing at over two meters, the bulky female Uzii seems to have trained her body quite a bit. Her tan clothes are taught against her grey furred and muscled body, the only loose adornment a necklace of teeth on a string. Gazing out with a sharp look behind her brown eyes, the Den Daughter nods at her opponent, then points to herself.

"Pain-drop Redmoon."

Taking a fighting stance, the Den Daughter prepares to charge just as soon as she's acknowledged.

Rolled a 15 (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?614510-Empire-6-Embers-of-Dawn-Dice-Rolling-Thread&p=24701131#post24701131)! Looks like Pain-drop is gonna be a fun character!
Roll: 15. (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=24701145&postcount=429) Gengy and I decided on a tie because it's more dramatic, even though technically by the rules we should have gone to a reroll.

The Warspeaker nods. “Tior,” they say with a brief gesture to themself. It’s only polite, to follow the customs of the locals before smacking them into submission.

...although that may prove harder than anticipated, because instead of being some young buck half Tior’s size trying to break his teeth on a rock like expected, it’s one of the females, and she’s almost as big as Tior.

She’s certainly faster, and Tior dives to the side as she charges, hoping her momentum will carry her into the water. No such luck, she has more than enough space to stop, and now she’s whirling to charge again.

Stalling won’t work forever. It won’t please the crowd, either.

But perhaps most important of all, it’ll be interminably dull, and Tior came here to knock heads, not dance around.

Tior’s used to certain advantages in a fight, and some of those very much still apply. It’s impossible to choke a Scrim out, and pain is hardly a factor. But it’s the initial moment of contact that really matters, that moment of realizing that the opponent you just slammed into isn’t a wall of bones and muscles and flesh but a literal wall of stone, and the pain and shock that comes with it. It’s easy to take that moment and turn it into momentum, and to win the fight from there.

But when she slams into Tior and doesn’t react like that, it’s Tior who’s caught off-guard, and the force sends them reeling, slamming into the ground with a loud THUD. They try to clamber to their feet, but she’s already on them, pushing their prone form towards the water’s edge. She’s actually stronger than me, Tior realizes. That was an issue. Of course, there weren’t any stakes here, save for Tior’s pride.

...that was stakes enough.

It’s tricky to time it, but Tior’s used to being patient in fights. When the opening comes, Tior grabs at her pushing arms and drags her down to the ground with them. The crowd cheers as the two roll about on the ground, scrabbling for dominance.

It’s clear to Tior after a few moments of this that if things keep going this way, then they’re going to lose this match. She’s better at this. Tior’s used to fighting for keeps, with weapons, against much smaller opponents. This is none of those things. She has them pinned, now, and Tior knows what you can do if you’re stronger than someone and have control of their limbs.

But there’s still an out. Tior doesn’t give much more than a token struggle as she hauls them to their feet, and it looks for a moment like she’s going to push them off the edge, before Tior does something she’s not expecting and grabs blindly at the arms holding them and dives forward, dragging her with them. She’s not expecting it and she’s off-balance, and they’re both falling, and the crowd is a dull roar in Tior’s mind, and they’re twisting, and with a great splash the two of them hit the water together.

Lejah wanders a little. Most of the games hold little interest for them, though they do make a note to try the dire fly swatting when they have some time. But then a strange sight catches their attention- a Ko, putting on... some sort of street performance? Such sights aren't entirely uncommon in Thun City or Kursaal, but it's surprising to see it happening here.

What's less surprising is the meagre crowd. A few Uzii whelps, and a couple of visiting Sọ́kǎu, and the passing interest of strangers. It doesn't help that she's talking in Arrakhi instead of the Lejah ignores all of these to walk up to her directly. Unlike the Sọ́kǎu, Lejah's Arrakhi is flawless, if heavily accented. "It's been my experience that performances are easier with an assistant, especially if your assistant can translate for you."

Miltonian

2020-09-13, 12:52 AM

Of Kings and Lizards

Zinnia practically swells under the praise. And why not? She has seen how Thicket operates. She is confident she could do as good a job, if not better, than he. Perhaps it is time for her to consider taking over. Might not even have to kill him. The power behind the throne. The idea is very pleasing to her.

"And," she says, "Our tests are very difficult for non-Ko. So they both protect us and weed out the weak or stupid among us. No great loss. When you do come, we will provide guides, as many of the mazes are now infested with lost members of the Horde, which we are busy clearing out."

Magic Showtime

Ah! There we were. A crowd was beginning to form. Perfect. Theris lets her cape billow around her dramatically and straightens her hat. "Well, I can dance, but the ones I know might offend their mothers," she says, gesturing towards the young Uzii, "Stick around, though, and we shall see what fate has in store.

Lejah's arrival, though Theris would not admit it, is a godsend. She turns towards them and nods. "Well, if you insist, the Great and Magical Theris will not turn down a helping hand. Stand beside me, and we shall give this place a show to remember!"

Gengy

2020-09-13, 05:06 PM

Iddirf arrives to the Ko-Ball field in Small Isles and beholds the chaotic scrimmage game. The other Olkan referee priests are in shock. The rules of Ko-Ball are rules - and rules are like laws and laws are the holy body of God himself. To play while ignoring the rules . . . isn't that ignoring God?

Iddirf reacts differently.

He strides onto the sideline and places his hands on his hips, closes his eyes, and deeps deep that smell of sweat and mud that every Ko-Ball field has, whether in the farm lands or in the Rings in Kursaal. He loved that smell. The sounds of screaming Ko and grunting players rang in the air. He loved those sounds. He breathed in deep again and then looked around and saw the Den Mother silently watching the game and directing its energies. The way he saw it God was the Law, that was true. And the Rules were Law, that was also true. But the rules were for official games but not all games could be official. One had to learn how to play and most importantly one had to develop a love for the game. You come to the rules and the law and God with love in your heart. You accept God and the law and the rules through love. The love always comes first.

He walks to the Den Mother and extends his hands outward palms up in that usual Goliath greeting. He comes to her first because he is a Referee and as a Referee he knows that she is the Referee of this chaos. Referees are holy-men, they observe the rules and the law and as such are vessels of the Lord. Here in this strange land she is that instrument of God and despite his status he knows better than to interfere with God's tools. Instead he loudly talks to her with excitement.

Greeting mistress. My name is Redit’Anco Iddirf, an Olkan Priest from Targiz and Head Commissioner of Ko-Ball in Kursaal. I see that you're telling these young ones what is what! I have no desire to change that, I see their blood boiling from here and I love it! We need this type of love for the game in Targiz as well! Let me know if you need a break and any help wrangling them!

The Den Mother nods her head, "They ain't any trouble so far. Good to meet you Iddirf of Targiz. I am Soar-leaf Clearfang, mate to Tusker Stab-blood Clearfang. If you want to try and make these grown up excuses for whelps try and play a real game, I can help. Otherwise... looks like the South Team needs another player. Bet the Head League Man doesn't get to play often, does he?"

--------------------

Rocnab looks ashamed and embarrassed, but overall she looks angry. Still she can sense a sale and if there's anything she wants is for her Father to tell her that he is proud of her.

No. You don't get up easy. But nothing great is easy. You don't know you're tough if a weakling tries and fails to wrestle you. You only know your strength when you could take a punch from someone who can keep you asleep for days on end. You don't know how easily you or your warriors can shatter if you don't temper yourselves.

The Homage chuffed a small snort; hard to say from agreeing or disagreeing. "Even the mightiest warriors die too easily, if they try and go it alone."

"Temper your strength this way if you wish. Too many Uzii want to show they are strong in just the same way you are trying to convince me of strength. I imagine with the ties Ko-Ball brings us, I will see Swampum getting Flower Wine, whether I approve or not."

A guard brings over a test cup of the wine for Death-grasp to try. He sniffs it, and keep talking to Rocnab. "Just don't lie. To Uzii, to the defenders of Mamut, or to yourself."

"True strength comes from legs, arms, back, yes." Taking a slow sip, the Homage points at his head, "But also from here."

His pointing finger moves to his chest, presumably where his heart is, "And here is most important."

"If this drink takes away from that, makes my brethren less than they are when they need to be strong," Death-grasp finishes drinking everything in the cup in one go, and then a loud shatter can be heard through all of Meet Place as the cup itself is cracked and crushed in the Homage's firm hand, "I will be unhappy."

--------------------

The Goliath holding the chain was about to respond but Uitanot turns and hisses at him fiercely and showing his pointed teeth. The Goliath grunts but relents; yet, almost as if in annoyance he jerks his hand down which causes the Uitanot to stumble forward a little bit. Instead of getting angrier this seems to put the Harpy in a better mood and he screeches and laughs and turns to Homage Death-grasp:

Oh the ch..ain is my idea. My ki..nd are new to all this talking and ... civ..ilization. Sometimes I get exc..itable and someti..mes I get hungry. These thr..ee try and do their best to keep my on my best beh..avior. (Uitanot touches the copper chain with his claw almost lovingly) Thank you for your dire..ctions. We will tell this Sm..ell-This that you sent us. I hope that we will soon see each other again Hom..age.

With that, with Uitanot in the lead, the three silent Goliaths behind him, the strange troop made their way to the Ancestral Baths, there they (and by they Uitanot in his halting eccentric speech) ask around for Smell-this of the Dendräkki.

The Homage knows not what to make of Uitanot, so puts it out of his mind as soon as the Harpy leaves the Meet Place.

Smell-this of the Dendräkki's problem now.

---------------

The Ancestral Baths are brimming with people, many of whom are watching the Snortsmoot Duel that is underway. The Thump Flats can be seen quite easily from the edge of the baths, and both Tusker Crack-back Toadgrow and Tusker Proud-laugh Rocktusk are currently locked in fierce combat with one another. Tusker Shaman Deep-Sigh Thumpstrong is on the island as well, standing atop a small platform that gives him a raised view of the competitors. It's a bit hard to tell from the Ancestral Baths, but it seems like Proud-laugh is winning, as Crack-back is slowly being pushed backwards towards the water's edge. Displaying an excellent mastery of the Cat Scratch Style, Proud-laugh is at an advantage over Crack-back who prefers to use a hammer, but is unable to do so in the competition. That doesn't prevent the Tusker of Toadgrow from whipping his head around and getting under a blow that would have hurt. Seeing that he's lower now then his opponent, Crack-back charges straight in, using his tusks to his full advantage.

Proud-laugh lets out the bark of laughter he's named for, and leans down to come in with his own charge. The sound of the two Tuskers meeting together is a loud clattering that causes everyone in the Ancestral Baths and the Mudbaths to cheer.

A whelp that seems to be close to their naming motions to the Goliaths and the Harpy, "Smell-this this way."

Leading them through the crowded area, the whelp points at a bath where a platter of fine cheese is next to an Uzii with grey fur, dusted with black spots, who seems to be watching the duel while munching on the cheese. Though the Baths themselves have a strong, calming, scent to them, the grey furred Uzii has his own distinctive aroma that seems to be giving him some additional personal space.

A Shaman notices the Goliaths and the Harpy, and coughs politely, "If you wish to enter the Baths, it is custom to remove all clothing. The chains are... acceptable, if they are for safety reasons."

Yúkró considers things, uncertain how to respond. He doesn't believe the claimed altruism on the Uzii's part. Whatever they say their motives are, they have been aggressively expanding. Yúkró, and his Zbãyúik allies represented by their new chieftain Nùkèu, would happily admit that their own expansion is driven by desire to strengthen and enrich themselves and their tribes. They will naturally share their riches and power with their new followers, but it would be entirely dishonest to claim that that was their primary purpose. In the eyes of the four Sọ́kǎu, the Uzii are trying too hard to justify something that doesn't need to be justified and in the process lying, either to their guests or to themselves. It would be more honorable to be honest. Nùkèu and Ṭhùtšrũ share their companion's disbelief; the younger chief just stares at the Homage in confusion, while the old warrior snorts in derision.

Then there was the other matter. Why was Rẹ̌tšrìj kept away? It wasn't her choice, her brother knew too well to believe that. She would see the importance of the meeting and understand the importance of her presence. Death-grasp said he had no reason to continue to hold her, but that is exactly what he seems to be doing.

After the several moments of quiet consideration, Yúkró responds, quietly at first. "It really would have been better if she were here." After another quick moment of thought, he continues in, if anything, an even colder tone than before. "Given the current path of the flower-spirits, and what seems to be likely to be their destination, I would think the most natural choice for where to meet them would be the river. How they might handle the crossing, I have no idea, but I do not think it would be in their favor to meet us waiting for them on the south banks. And we are not going to go far beyond our own land and water anyway. Given recent events, I would think you would not find a warm welcome in [Region 41]. However, my sister seems quite popular there. We cannot discuss such a battle without her. And so I do not understand why she should be kept away from this meeting. You speak of protecting the lands and of standing with us, but I do not understand your actions here and cannot see them as friendly."

"What you expect me to do? Throw her into hole in ground until you show up? Maybe you want me to sit on her, and let her up when I feel like it?" The Homage shakes his head. "Sounds like good way to get poked in butt with spear. Repeatedly."

"No. We bring her to Swampum, we tell her not leave swamp, but otherwise, she free to go anywhere she want. Then we give her Shaman as both guides and guards. She tough thing. Try to flee Swampum many times, till we explained that we only want to train her and make her better warrior, before sending her home. After that, she went around fighting a few tough foes, impressing Uzii that watched. She almost ready, last I heard. So when we plan for Snortsmoot, we send you an invite, so you can come and talk. We told her we sent you invite, and make sure she ranged close. But we didn't want to lie to her. Tell her you were coming when we didn't know for sure."

Pulling on one of his tusks, Death-grasp looked Yúkró right in the eyes, "We just had a big fight. Many friends of ours died. You know me about as well as I know a Cäuplakai Ox. I know they exist, they are ornery, and if I went in to the middle of a herd, I'd look out for making the whole group mad, thinking I might earn a few broken bones if I did otherwise. So why would I go into the middle of that?"

"The answer is obvious to me: For family. I'd jump on top of any Ox what was holding one of mine in danger. But I know you just about as well as I know the head of Clan Alqar... except you seem to have your head on your shoulders, rather than where your tail should be. But I didn't know that for sure till you showed up. And I won't give another mighty warrior back to their country to watch their leader make stupid choices all over again." The vehemence in the Homage's voice is clearly aimed at someone else. Death-grasp is not a fan of Chief Kalm Alqar, and it's likely coloring his response at the moment, but he's doing his best. For a non-Shaman Uzii, he's well known for being one of the most memorable diplomats in generations.

Waving his hand in front of his face and letting out a sigh, the Homage returns to a more neutral tone, "So your sister safe. She near. She just not here right this moment. And I can't pull her out from behind a stump at your say so. You want to wait a day, I bet she'll show. Could even be sooner. Soon as we saw you all enter our lands, we started sending runners to tell the Shaman you'd been seen. Until then, enjoy the Snortsmoot.

Or... I can send a warrior with one of your own and they can meet her on her way here. Won't be any faster, but maybe it help you feel better? Make it easier for you to enjoy big party, before we all have to go off and kill a lot of stupid people that drank too much Blighted wine?"

The Warspeaker nods. “Tior,” they say with a brief gesture to themself. It’s only polite, to follow the customs of the locals before smacking them into submission.

...although that may prove harder than anticipated, because instead of being some young buck half Tior’s size trying to break his teeth on a rock like expected, it’s one of the females, and she’s almost as big as Tior.

She’s certainly faster, and Tior dives to the side as she charges, hoping her momentum will carry her into the water. No such luck, she has more than enough space to stop, and now she’s whirling to charge again.

Stalling won’t work forever. It won’t please the crowd, either.

But perhaps most important of all, it’ll be interminably dull, and Tior came here to knock heads, not dance around.

Tior’s used to certain advantages in a fight, and some of those very much still apply. It’s impossible to choke a Scrim out, and pain is hardly a factor. But it’s the initial moment of contact that really matters, that moment of realizing that the opponent you just slammed into isn’t a wall of bones and muscles and flesh but a literal wall of stone, and the pain and shock that comes with it. It’s easy to take that moment and turn it into momentum, and to win the fight from there.

But when she slams into Tior and doesn’t react like that, it’s Tior who’s caught off-guard, and the force sends them reeling, slamming into the ground with a loud THUD. They try to clamber to their feet, but she’s already on them, pushing their prone form towards the water’s edge. She’s actually stronger than me, Tior realizes. That was an issue. Of course, there weren’t any stakes here, save for Tior’s pride.

...that was stakes enough.

It’s tricky to time it, but Tior’s used to being patient in fights. When the opening comes, Tior grabs at her pushing arms and drags her down to the ground with them. The crowd cheers as the two roll about on the ground, scrabbling for dominance.

It’s clear to Tior after a few moments of this that if things keep going this way, then they’re going to lose this match. She’s better at this. Tior’s used to fighting for keeps, with weapons, against much smaller opponents. This is none of those things. She has them pinned, now, and Tior knows what you can do if you’re stronger than someone and have control of their limbs.

But there’s still an out. Tior doesn’t give much more than a token struggle as she hauls them to their feet, and it looks for a moment like she’s going to push them off the edge, before Tior does something she’s not expecting and grabs blindly at the arms holding them and dives forward, dragging her with them. She’s not expecting it and she’s off-balance, and they’re both falling, and the crowd is a dull roar in Tior’s mind, and they’re twisting, and with a great splash the two of them hit the water together.

There is a moment of pure silence, as both competitors get back up, drenched in swamp water. They fell in at the same time, and stood back up at the same time. Everyone watching seems stunned.

Until they aren't. The cheering begins in earnest, and it is so loud it drowns out anything that Pain-drop might want to say. If she, in fact, wanted to say anything at all. Instead, she looks her opponent up and down, and nods once.

Satisfied with herself, she makes sure she only has the expected bumps and bruises and not anything worse, gives Tior another once over to see that she didn't give him any... Wounds? Cracks? Scratches. Any scratches he didn't have before, and then offers a hand for him to shake.

-----------

Whispers begin, as the story of the fight is spread. Within a few days, everyone at the Snortsmoot is talking about how Pain-drop Redmoon is as hardy as a rock, strong as a boulder, and only going to be more fierce when she gets older.

Of Kings and Lizards

Zinnia practically swells under the praise. And why not? She has seen how Thicket operates. She is confident she could do as good a job, if not better, than he. Perhaps it is time for her to consider taking over. Might not even have to kill him. The power behind the throne. The idea is very pleasing to her.

"And," she says, "Our tests are very difficult for non-Ko. So they both protect us and weed out the weak or stupid among us. No great loss. When you do come, we will provide guides, as many of the mazes are now infested with lost members of the Horde, which we are busy clearing out."

"I would like to see that! If I should fail to die in glorious combat against a mighty foe, then if it is the next Homage's will, I will come visit. Maybe try out the nice chair I've heard you have, if the chair man that sits in it all the time will move over a bit." The Homage grins. "Before then, though, we are here to party!"

--------------------

Magic Showtime

Ah! There we were. A crowd was beginning to form. Perfect. Theris lets her cape billow around her dramatically and straightens her hat. "Well, I can dance, but the ones I know might offend their mothers," she says, gesturing towards the young Uzii, "Stick around, though, and we shall see what fate has in store.

Lejah's arrival, though Theris would not admit it, is a godsend. She turns towards them and nods. "Well, if you insist, the Great and Magical Theris will not turn down a helping hand. Stand beside me, and we shall give this place a show to remember!"

The whelps that have gathered are looking up with expectation, now that there's someone near that can translate!

Silent_Interim

2020-09-13, 11:58 PM

There is a moment of pure silence, as both competitors get back up, drenched in swamp water. They fell in at the same time, and stood back up at the same time. Everyone watching seems stunned.

Until they aren't. The cheering begins in earnest, and it is so loud it drowns out anything that Pain-drop might want to say. If she, in fact, wanted to say anything at all. Instead, she looks her opponent up and down, and nods once.

Satisfied with herself, she makes sure she only has the expected bumps and bruises and not anything worse, gives Tior another once over to see that she didn't give him any... Wounds? Cracks? Scratches. Any scratches he didn't have before, and then offers a hand for him to shake.

Tior hesitates for a moment, but reaches out and shakes her hand in return. "You fight good," Tior says. "Honour to fight with you. Strong. Great respect." Their speech is slightly halting and broken, as though they aren't certain they have the right words. "Welcome to visit Thun any time, fight again. Will be ready next time."

Ah! There we were. A crowd was beginning to form. Perfect. Theris lets her cape billow around her dramatically and straightens her hat. "Well, I can dance, but the ones I know might offend their mothers," she says, gesturing towards the young Uzii, "Stick around, though, and we shall see what fate has in store.

Lejah's arrival, though Theris would not admit it, is a godsend. She turns towards them and nods. "Well, if you insist, the Great and Magical Theris will not turn down a helping hand. Stand beside me, and we shall give this place a show to remember!"

Lejah bows. "It would be my pleasure." With that, they turn to face the crowd, taking a step forward and giving a loud clap of their stony hands to get the attention of those nearby. When they speak next it is with an enormous bellow, audible quite some way away, and in the language of the Uzii. "Step right up, one and all, to witness the fantastical feats and miraculous magics of the one and only, the GREAT AND MAGICAL THERIS! She will defy your expectations and perform stupendous acts that have to be seen to be believed! Prepate to be AMAZED!"

mystic1110

2020-09-14, 11:15 AM

Iddirf laughs and exclaims "How right you are Soar-Leaf! How right you are. No need for us to organize a real game - let the people play as they want right now. This is about love of the game, the love of competition - we'll keep score in Kursaal but here" and Iddirf rolls up his Priestly robes and hides "lets just throw some Ko around!"

With that he runs off to the South Team hands raised in the air to join the fun. The rest of the Olkan Priest-Referees were left standing grim faced by Soar-Leaf. An outside observer might find it odd as to how Iddirf ended up being in charge of such a group of sour-faced Goliaths, but there was something infectious about Iddirf's excitement and even the other Olkan Priest-Referees eventually sighed and ran out to split themselves amongst the teams.

~~

Rocnab grimaced at the smashed cup. Not much she could do if some Uzii couldn't handle their liquor - they would just have to pick themselves up like she had. Regardless, soon she will be back in Targiz, behind the walls of Kursaal, far away from Swampum and most importantly she made the sale! Perhaps her dad will talk about more than just business with her. Perhaps he would hug her again. With this happy trail of thought she smiled slightly and said:

"Trust me Homage, your mood is part of my business and I will work to keep you happy. I have taken enough of your time and will go talk to your merchants about the finer points of the wine trade. Thank you"

~~

The Goliaths grunted, uncloaked and disrobed themselves. In their nakedness one could see that two were male and one was female. Curiously, they each had deep scars on their bodies almost as if something had gouged them and had extracted an organ or two. The scars were ugly and large and also new, the skin still pink and raw. Uitanot looked warily at the water and the Goliath, one of the males, that held his chain grimaced as he tugged on the thread. The Golaiths entered the water and Uitanot hopped up onto the shoulders of the chain wielding Golaith. His talons dug into the flesh - just deep enough to not draw blood but still obviously uncomfortable, as if one held six knives to the Golaith's shoulders denting but not piercing the skin. The group waded towards Smell-This and his platter of cheeses.

Uitanot greeted Smell-This from his perch on top his apparent "master". The Golaiths, as before, were silent.

Mas..ter Smell-T..his! I can tell already you are a man of fi..ne taste. That is some wonderful cheese that you have there. We are cheese merch..ants from Targiz and had come to learn more about your pro..duct. BUT! On our jour..ney we have heard wond..erful tales of . . . um. . . horr..ors, flower crea..tures. Please tell us more about them. (Uitanot, waved his feathers around, clearly looking for an excuse of why he was asking) Have they har..med the cheese?

Aventine

2020-09-14, 07:20 PM

"What you expect me to do? Throw her into hole in ground until you show up? Maybe you want me to sit on her, and let her up when I feel like it?" The Homage shakes his head. "Sounds like good way to get poked in butt with spear. Repeatedly."

"No. We bring her to Swampum, we tell her not leave swamp, but otherwise, she free to go anywhere she want. Then we give her Shaman as both guides and guards. She tough thing. Try to flee Swampum many times, till we explained that we only want to train her and make her better warrior, before sending her home. After that, she went around fighting a few tough foes, impressing Uzii that watched. She almost ready, last I heard. So when we plan for Snortsmoot, we send you an invite, so you can come and talk. We told her we sent you invite, and make sure she ranged close. But we didn't want to lie to her. Tell her you were coming when we didn't know for sure."

Pulling on one of his tusks, Death-grasp looked Yúkró right in the eyes, "We just had a big fight. Many friends of ours died. You know me about as well as I know a Cäuplakai Ox. I know they exist, they are ornery, and if I went in to the middle of a herd, I'd look out for making the whole group mad, thinking I might earn a few broken bones if I did otherwise. So why would I go into the middle of that?"

"The answer is obvious to me: For family. I'd jump on top of any Ox what was holding one of mine in danger. But I know you just about as well as I know the head of Clan Alqar... except you seem to have your head on your shoulders, rather than where your tail should be. But I didn't know that for sure till you showed up. And I won't give another mighty warrior back to their country to watch their leader make stupid choices all over again." The vehemence in the Homage's voice is clearly aimed at someone else. Death-grasp is not a fan of Chief Kalm Alqar, and it's likely coloring his response at the moment, but he's doing his best. For a non-Shaman Uzii, he's well known for being one of the most memorable diplomats in generations.

Waving his hand in front of his face and letting out a sigh, the Homage returns to a more neutral tone, "So your sister safe. She near. She just not here right this moment. And I can't pull her out from behind a stump at your say so. You want to wait a day, I bet she'll show. Could even be sooner. Soon as we saw you all enter our lands, we started sending runners to tell the Shaman you'd been seen. Until then, enjoy the Snortsmoot.

Or... I can send a warrior with one of your own and they can meet her on her way here. Won't be any faster, but maybe it help you feel better? Make it easier for you to enjoy big party, before we all have to go off and kill a lot of stupid people that drank too much Blighted wine?"

Ṭhùtšrũ shakes his head and turns to leave, having heard enough. Yúkró sighs in exasperated resignation. "It is clear enough that you are right about us not understanding each other. If it was really that important to you to keep Rẹ̌tšrìj away from your Snortsmoot until you knew we were coming, then fine. What's done is done. I can see the logic in denying her the chance to observe such important matters until you had a better idea of what I was thinking. But the currents and winds of time don't just stop at our convenience; there are matters in the north that demand attention, as I trust you understand. I honestly thought that you would be interested in cooperation. But you complain about the Alqari and suggest my sister's freedom will depend on how I act. Fine. I have an army to deal with that seems intent on leaving my lands for yours. If our relationship is one of holding threats over each other to 'encourage' each other to take the actions we desire, then so be it.

"We have a battle to prepare for, so I will respectfully take my leave here. A boat and crew will wait on the coast to bring Rẹ̌tšrìj home. If you don't release her, I will understand that you value holding on to your leverage over me more than defeating the flower-spirits, and reevaluate the dangers they pose accordingly."

Gengy

2020-09-14, 07:48 PM

The Goliaths grunted, uncloaked and disrobed themselves. In their nakedness one could see that two were male and one was female. Curiously, they each had deep scars on their bodies almost as if something had gouged them and had extracted an organ or two. The scars were ugly and large and also new, the skin still pink and raw. Uitanot looked warily at the water and the Goliath, one of the males, that held his chain grimaced as he tugged on the thread. The Golaiths entered the water and Uitanot hopped up onto the shoulders of the chain wielding Golaith. His talons dug into the flesh - just deep enough to not draw blood but still obviously uncomfortable, as if one held six knives to the Golaith's shoulders denting but not piercing the skin. The group waded towards Smell-This and his platter of cheeses.

Uitanot greeted Smell-This from his perch on top his apparent "master". The Golaiths, as before, were silent.

Mas..ter Smell-T..his! I can tell already you are a man of fi..ne taste. That is some wonderful cheese that you have there. We are cheese merch..ants from Targiz and had come to learn more about your pro..duct. BUT! On our jour..ney we have heard wond..erful tales of . . . um. . . horr..ors, flower crea..tures. Please tell us more about them. (Uitanot, waved his feathers around, clearly looking for an excuse of why he was asking) Have they har..med the cheese?

The speckled Uzii turns from watching the fight to see the Harpy, and blinks a bit, before realizing that no, this is not a sign he has been in the hot water too long. "Strange ugly winged birdman, have no fear. The cheese is safe. We of the Dendräkki guard it with our lives. I am more cheese seller than warrior, though. So I know only that the cheese is safe. And tasty."

Ṭhùtšrũ shakes his head and turns to leave, having heard enough. Yúkró sighs in exasperated resignation. "It is clear enough that you are right about us not understanding each other. If it was really that important to you to keep Rẹ̌tšrìj away from your Snortsmoot until you knew we were coming, then fine. What's done is done. I can see the logic in denying her the chance to observe such important matters until you had a better idea of what I was thinking. But the currents and winds of time don't just stop at our convenience; there are matters in the north that demand attention, as I trust you understand. I honestly thought that you would be interested in cooperation. But you complain about the Alqari and suggest my sister's freedom will depend on how I act. Fine. I have an army to deal with that seems intent on leaving my lands for yours. If our relationship is one of holding threats over each other to 'encourage' each other to take the actions we desire, then so be it.

"We have a battle to prepare for, so I will respectfully take my leave here. A boat and crew will wait on the coast to bring Rẹ̌tšrìj home. If you don't release her, I will understand that you value holding on to your leverage over me more than defeating the flower-spirits, and reevaluate the dangers they pose accordingly."

"If that is what you feel is best. Fight well. Your sister will be escorted to the Iven Delta, as soon as she arrives here." The Homage grunts incomprehensibly. Humans just make no sense to him. To the northwest, a clan ruled by greed. To the northeast, strong fighters who want the earth to be air just because they say so. You can punch a rock, but you can't punch it to make it become a bird. Some Uzii have tried. There are now a few rocks in Swampum that look like birds, but none of those statues fly.

Still, as ever, the words were important, "If we meet again, honor to our ancestors. If we should meet again in battle, glory to your families. Know that you have the respect of the Uzii."

With that, the Homage watched the Sọ́kǎu tribe leader walk away. Not here to party. Not here to talk. Just here for family. Death-grasp understood that at least. Still, this nice-no-punching-talk thing was hard. Hopefully the next Homage would do better.

I am releasing your hero. Mechanically, I was hoping for something out of it, but story-wise the Uzii have zero reasons to hold her. They also just don't trust humans at the moment. Blame Zayuz :smalltongue:

Miltonian

2020-09-14, 08:25 PM

Splitting the Party

Zinnia grins. "Oh yes. I am very eager to see how the Uzii party. Perhaps I can learn a few things to improve our own soirees." She doubts it, but perhaps there is a thing or two that would amuse Thicket if she were to bring home a parody version. Perhaps he could include a few of the finer details of Uzii culture in his next composition extolling the greatness of the Ko, but primarily himself.

Ancestors, he was becoming insufferable at times.

"So," she says, "Where would you be right now, if you were not here greeting the visitors?"

=======

All the World's a Stage

Theris bows dramatically and thanks the tailor who made her cloak. The way it billows about her is just perfect. She comes up and seems to adjust her hat, but in the process slips loose another packet of powders. These, however, she lets fall into her claw. "The physical form," she says, "Is limited. Even the strongest Uzii can only lift so much. But! What if I told you that it can be changed? With a simple exertion of will..." A simple sleight of hand, more like. The powder, invisible in the air, spills over her face as she makes a dramatic motion with her hand. Immediately, her scales take on a golden hue. "...Flesh can become gold, stone, silver, whatever you wish." She taps her head. "The mind can remake reality!"

She smiles as the powder fades and her scales return to normal. "But enough with these petty tricks. These trifles. You want to see magic, yes? Real magic? You! How would you like a scarf?" She opens her mouth wide and winks. Her hand seems to slip down her throat. She lets it rest there for a moment, seeming to rustle about. Then, she pulls out a colorful scarf far too large for her. Then another. And another. And another. Until there is one for everyone in the crowd.

mystic1110

2020-09-15, 08:38 AM

Uitanot extends one of his taloned feet to the cheese platter and pierced a cube and brought it to his mouth.

Mmmm, the Chee..se is tasty! Fantastic . . . Brav..o to you and your clan for making it and guarding it. But pray tell - we have he..ard much of these creat..ures you guard it from, but do you know of whom creat..ed them?

This last question is asked in almost reverent excitement.

Ausar

2020-09-16, 11:17 PM

Honour, Honour and more Honour

Leafhair grimaced. "The Council went to inspect the Red Grove's westward march. I'm not sure quite what happened, but from what the birds can say they met some goliaths who disputed their responsibility to protect the sacred forest. Few returned, and none of the Council among them. A new Council is being considered, but for the time being I've been appointed High Councillor. It's rather ruined my wedding plans, if I'm honest, but the Deru think in strange fashions. As for the flowers;" Leafhair began to pace back and forth. "More groves are being hastily grown to replace the Red, and a Deru has been chosen to lead them, but it will take time. I have nothing to offer the Swampum this cycle, but the next? Perhaps I can redirect the groves towards a better path. Will there be more to fight when that cycle comes?"

The Matter of the Massacre

Issa noticed the arriving goliaths some way out, and roused her Stags to meet the delegations. She took stock of the three groups winding their way forwards, and picked out the second, whispering to a swallow in her lower canopy which flew off towards Leafhair. She strode ponderously over to Rocnab and her retinue, the Stags bowing their antlers when they came to a halt. Issa started to speak, the sounds of the Hraban tongue still difficult to form. "My herds are restless, sister of the Sannha. The birds chirp of smoke from the west fields, of a pyre of my folk. A grove departed, a Council followed, and yet only a copse returned. How can this be?"

mystic1110

2020-09-17, 08:45 AM

This was before Rocnab was able to make her sale of flower wine to the Uzii and so it was before she felt some semblance of pride. Instead, at the moment, she had just been traveling for days with other Goliaths who frankly barely respected her and thought of her as Daddy's girl. Oh, how she wished she was still a Daddy's girl - her dad rarely spoken to her after finding her passed out in a puddle of wine. She was tired from the journey, sweaty from the heat of the swamp, and had the splitting headache and bodily cramps that was customary for someone who still had trouble giving up her habit. She felt like absolute ****. And so she was not in the mood when a tree started speaking with her.

Now, the vintners of Targiz deal with the Deru with more frequency than other Goliaths. They trade for the living wood of the Deru to line their clay pots with and thus enhance the flavor of their offerings. However, large talking trees are still a shock to any person, especially if that person comes from a people that worship flowers - the Deru have a sense of the mythical around them and most Goliaths treat them almost as demi-gods. Rocnab was not that type of person - her own faith, weak on its own, was not buttressed by the fact that she was present during trade negotiations and did not think much of the Deru's mercantile instincts. If they were demigods then they must be poor demi-gods. She was too deep in her endless withdrawals to laugh at her own pun. Regardless, when Issa approached the group, the other Goliaths gasped in awe, lowered their wares and bowed their heads along with raising their hands to their sides palms up. Rocnab sighed and halfheartedly followed suit, not lowering her head - less out of disrespect and more out of simple exhaustion.

Issa spoke and Rocnab's mood worsened. Of course she heard of the incident with the Savlo Revel but did not understand why she was being confronted about it. Ah, the Revel; she tried to picture that freedom - perhaps giving up wine was the worse route, perhaps she should have just leaned into it further and joined the Witch-Sisters in their endless drunken dances. She looked up at Issa and spoke with a hint of jealousy although even if the Deru understood the tone, what could Rocnab possibly be jealous of?:

Honored Flower-Kin, I have heard of the indecent and all of Kursaal mourns for your loss. Your people fell into the path of the Holy Revel; a drunken cavalcade of fools led by the oracles of Savlo, who all have smoked too much of the blessed plants that they see dreams instead of waking. None can control the Revel, they rove through our countryside and itinerants and the hopeless join them to dance until death - and it seems that they have left our own borders, which I know that the leaders of the High Communes are grateful, for while holy they are destructive.