The Convergence of Sky: An Exalted campaign.

[Inspector Valin]

The Outlander looks up at Seiv in turn as he turns to leave, trying and failing to determine the meaning of the fae prince's stare. Once his bird has begun to fly away, the stranger turns with a relaxed sigh. He may be back, but they likely have some time. She starts slowly trudging across the ice field, oblivious to the golden light that surrounds her. Eventually, she retrieves her discarded pack, brushing the snow from it before hoisting the strap over her shoulder, and turning back to the hill. She doesn't pause to bandy words with any onlookers, simply ascending the mound while muttering a name to herself.

"Nimbus... Nimbus..."

[Ascension]

As he wings overhead, Walda sees that the Solar is walking away from the caravan, away from his Moonblades. He would like to have a talk with her, but he can at least rest assured she isn't a present threat to his followers. The same can't be said, with any certainty, of the caravan itself. His people weren't able to keep its guards under proper guard while fighting for their lives against the monstrous water-bears, and he can't be entirely certain that they won't attempt some kind of reprisal now that that immediate threat is past.

He lands in front of his soldiers, his friends, shifting back into human form as he does.

"Wrek, Zheng, everyone... Are you all okay? Any casualties? And where are the caravan's guards?"

[Sticks]

Wrek wipes blood from his face and grins. "Nothin' we can't handle, Walda. The local guides fled, but the Islanders stayed behind. The big one got Bolormaa with boot-knife in the side, but she'll pull through. Lots of cracked ribs and some cuts from the bears, but nobody's gonna die if we treat 'em."

Zheng steps in sheathing a bloodied blade and salutes. "I can confirm that sir, I've already got Enhk and Suren handing out poultices." She relaxes somewhat, apparently time with bandits is softening her military discipline somewhat. "Shame we didn't kill one of those bears though, I bet we could feed the men off one for a few days." She snaps back to attention. "What are your orders, sir? Are we still taking the caravan? I saw the Nellens mon on some of their supplies."

Wreck speaks up, scratching at the shaggy mane of hair that spills from his hood. "And then there's that voice, Walda, I ain't sure what we're dealin' with here, but I bet it's what we've been walkin' towards. What about the woman?" He points a clawed finger up the ridge to the Outlander.

[pfm1995]

The Lunar Anathema, still red in tooth and claw, turned to face him and he paled. It spoke, only barely intelligible, and his pupils widened. The fear that roiled his gut crashed like a tidal wave against the breakwater that was a lifetime of hard training, and Adorei nearly slumped as the breakwater cracked. Sweat beaded on his neck. His hands tightened and, behind his eyes, the susurrus grew louder - and it whispered of hatred. It knew this thing, in some ineffable way, knew it and the mark on its brow and the sting of its claws, and it whispered of hatred and revenge. Ten-thousand legs straightened his spine, bolstering his pride, and a voice spoke in his head that was both his and not.

I am the last of a line unbroken since time immemorial. My kind has usurped the mantle of gods, stolen secrets from beyond Creation and turned kingdoms into sea. I am Dragon-blooded.

His Aspect filled him with ice, and he watched, dispassionately, as the fear withered inside him. It was still there, just... unimportant. Frankly, he had scarier things living in his head - and they were on his side right now.

Adorei ignored the Anathema. He couldn't kill it, he knew that - much as the whispers might seethe at the thought of leaving. Uncle would be disappointed if he came to join him so soon. Instead he turned to the sniveling hobgoblin and offered only a half-shrug of apology before he lept backwards off the sky-whale. Hopefully the creature would distract the anathema long enough for him to reach the safety of the woman who had so recently tossed it over the horizon. Falling, looking up at the sky, Adorei was struck suddenly by just how insane this plan was. Three anathema and a fey lord, and his only hope to play them against each other long enough for him and maybe his men to survive. Honored ancestors, how had it come to this?

[Sticks]

Seeing his one hope of salvation depart, Travolta looks about. He sees a copse of short, straggly trees, he sees a big whirlwind that would have shredded him without his master's protection, he sees a blood-stained frozen lake full of enemies, and right in front of him aboard a lazily drifting wyld beast is a large angry beast exalt, the type his kind are taught to loathe and fear. With a gurgling shriek, the hobgoblin faints dead away, flopping dramatically across the fleshy mount, both abandoned by their master.

[Ascension]

"Keep the caravan contained, if you can. The situation is more complicated than we guessed. I don't want a Realm expedition getting away without giving us an explanation of why they were here, but I need to speak with that other Lunar, as well."

He looks toward the Solar stranger now walking toward the witch-storm. The storm that so recently spoke.

"And with her, too. Hold here with the caravan; I'll be back."

Walda jogs up the hill, after the stranger.

"Hey! Hey, Sunshine! Hey, uh, Shield Hero?! Hey, lady who punches really hard!" he calls out after her.

[Inspector Valin]

The traveller on the hill can't help but smile at the sound of a now-familiar voice. And wince. That shot to the gut still smarts. But all the same, they'd fought together, and he didn't sound like he was coming up here to finish the score. Struggling to suppress a grin, the Outlander calls back. "Not waiting, Walda!" That said, she doesn't quicken her pace and gives the bandit prince a familiar nod once he's drawn close enough, "You want to talk, talk. As long as you don't get in the way, I'll listen."

A thought suddenly comes to the Outlander. "Oh, and I have a name now. I'm Nimbus!" As soon as she's made the proud proclamation however, doubt seems to creep into the woman's mind. She slows a little, "I... think. That could be my name. Do you think that's my name?" she asks Walda, giving the Lunar warrior a quizzical look.

It was then she caught the sounds of Adorei's rapid progress to join the two of them. This is enough to stop the Outlander's pace. She turns, looking to the oncoming stranger with concern. "Are you all right?"

[Malozing]

Decks looks down at Travolta with narrowed eyes. A clawed foot strikes out at the prone hobgoblin's abdomen. No reaction. The leopard-man crouches and pokes his claws into Travolta's face and neck. A growl rumbles from Decks' chest.

"You're no fun." He glances down at the other Exalts gathering together on the ground. Ears flick at the sight of the Outlander, and Decks double checks that he has his soapstone before leaping off of the Wyld beast.

Mid-fall, the leopard-man quickly shifts into a full clouded leopard with the white soapstone in his mouth. Decks, crouched low, slinks quickly towards the localized cyclone. His ears folded back, and the tip of his tail flicking to and fro. He gives the woman a wide berth on his way back to the Spring clearing.

[Ascension]

"She doesn't know her name...?" Walda mumbles to himself, but he doesn't have time to follow up on that before the stranger... Nimbus or whoever she is... turns to the other approaching Exalt. He can see faint wisps of anima coming off the other man, but they're neither Lunar silver nor Solar gold. A Dragon-Blood? From the Nellens caravan?

"You," he challenges, taking a much brusquer tone than he had with 'Nimbus,' "You're from the Realm?"

[pfm1995]

Adorei's eyes flicked between them, the woman who had quite possibly saved his life and the man who'd until recently been at least debating taking it. Were they not fighting now? Had the fey lord's appearance made strange bedfellows? That was... bad. Potentially very bad. What Adorei wouldn't give for a mirror and five minutes, he was walking with lions and he'd dearly love some advice. But there was just him, and as he took his next few steps he settled on the beginnings of a strategy.

Expression guarded, Adorei answered the woman first - a deliberate, if small, slight to the man who held his men captive but also a necessary one. "Fine, thank you." He said, and he sounded sincere. Was sincere; as the mantle of his aspect waned, the adrenaline crashed, and the cold came rushing back in like a rain of needles he was suddenly very glad there was at least one Exalt here - anathema or no - who wasn't interested in killing him. Probably. Unless she'd been warning the other anathema away from her hunt, or she was on their side and all of this was an elaborate act. The whiskered anathema hadn't seemed hurt, had she...

Conspiracies whirled a quick quatrain through his mind, dancing to the tune of the whisper's hatred, but none of it showed on Adorei's face. When he spoke, his tone was tired and he even allowed himself some small shivers. Simple human weakness might be his best weapon here. "And, thank you for helping us against these bandits. Even if in the end it didn't matter, it will be remembered." he swore. Not once did he so much as glance at the other anathema and his band of thugs, for all it showed he may as well have been talking about some completely different group of layabout killers. He gave a short half bow - respect, indebtedness but careful not to lower his eyes lest he imply subservience - and only then turned to the other anathema. The one with the clearly artifact swords - Who had he stolen these from then? he wondered. Ledaal? - and his tone turned cold even as he tried to dance back away from actually insulting the creature.

"Understand," he said, consciously imitating one of his more annoyingly pretentious and vapid classmates back at the Academy, "that if any harm came to my retainers or those in my employ in this fracas then the value of any bounty paid will be commensurately reduced. We are not in the habit of paying for corpses." Not unless we have use for them. He'd answered the creature's question, but without ever acknowledging that he felt it was owed an answer or even in a position to demand one and all in a tone that suggested equals at best. That meant something. Take a weak stance, one totally out of sync with the terrain, and let them think you a fool. Just another out-of-touch dynast. Let them discount you, so you can get behind them and sink the knife. Or, that was the idea - in this dead-end corner of Creation, maybe mouthy nobles just got their throats slit.

He was about to find out.

[Inspector Valin]

"You know, Walda. We didn't finish that fight."

The woman's smile fades as Adorei's arrival reminds her of just what the bandit leader had been trying to do before the fae showed up. What he'd more or less succeeded at. 'Nimbus' places an arm on Adorei's shoulder as the turns to the bandit prince. "I don't know these people. And I don't usually get involved in things like this unless I have to. People tend to not like it... half the time even when I help them, they just yell at me and tell me to go away before I recruit them for that 'Bull in the North' or whatever." She sighs, giving Adorei a slightly exasperated smile. It's nice to see someone appreciate her for a change, especially when she hadn't been able to properly help him. Not turning, the stranger chuckles darkly at Walda. "But robbing poor innocent explorers who barely have the strength to fight back? Is that really something for the 'Flashing Blade of the Moon' to brag about?"

That jab felt satisfying, especially after he'd largely come out ahead when they fought. Still, she shouldn't be having this conversation. There's more important matters to attend to. The Outlander glances down at the campsite, then back to Adorei and Walda. "As far as I can tell, no one's killing anyone right now. I need to investigate the voice in the wind. Are either of you interested in joining me?" Regardless of the answer, she nods and turns around, set to resume her passage. So long as the situation here is stable for the moment, they can work to resolve things later.

[Sticks]

Carried on the wind, the voice from the whirlwind rings out.

"Stone-bearers, twice-chosen, make haste. You must each enter alone, we will not banish the whirlwind for your companions, it is our last line of defense, should our enterprise fail. Make haste to us, so that we may aid one-another."

There is a note of pleading in the voice now, both desperate and hopeful.

[Inspector Valin]

"Stone bearers."

The phrase makes the Outlander ponder briefly. She withdraws her own white lodestar, running her finger across the pictograms before looking up at Walda and Adorei. "Were we all brought here the same way?"

She gives the pair only a second to answer, before grinning and wheeling around. "Well! Here goes nothing!" With those few words, the strange woman starts sprinting towards the encircling winds.

[Sticks]

As The Outlander passes through the howling winds, she feels the stinging cold first, tearing at her garments, whipping her hair, and then stillness. She can see the wind all about her, but does not feel it any longer. Her steps carry her through the wind and on the inside there is a cool, gentle calm. The ground is gently sloped, leading down into a mist-filled basin. Not far off is a patch of disturbed snow, a body-shaped indent stained with blood, large padded foot-prints leading back into the whirlwind, likely where the Lunar she punched landed. Strangly, there is also an unseasonal patch of lichen, heath, club-moss and thistle growing in and around the indentation.

"Ahhh, Nimbus, we had not expected your return after so long, but we are all the more grateful for the surprise. We are hopeful your peers will prove equal to the task, though we have faith in you, old friend." The voices, for the Outlander can tell there are two that speak as one, sound relieved to her ears.

[Malozing]

Decks sprints into the whirlwind once the voices call for the "Stonebears."

"I don't like her." He grumbles around his stone. "Why did you give her a stone?"

[Inspector Valin]

"I... err..."

The Outlander is lost for words. She'd come this far thinking the dreams heralded answers for her, yet here she stands and the truth is... still far from clear. She peers down at the shrubbery on the ground, as if expecting some trick. When the voice rises up again, she straightens, trying to find its location. Failing to do so, she looks up at the sky as the strangely knowledgeable duo chime in. They still seem convinced they know who she is.

She still doesn't remember. Should she remember? She'd assumed finding the truth would help her recall it, like it was some forgotten secret that'd come rushing back. Was that a mistake on her part?

The stranger coughs. She tries to force a smile up at the sky. "Well, I'm happy you're happy! But I... I don't..." Know who you are? What this place is? The Outlander cups her head in her hands, looking down at the ground as she tries to ponder back. "I don't remember. I don't remember lots of things. My past, my name... almost everything's gone."

And this isn't helping. At least not yet. Attempting to part the veil of fog is just giving her a headache and making her feel nervous. The possible Nimbus wanders down towards the basin, her soapstone still in hand and speaking as she does so. "If I can help you, I will. But my memories aren't back yet. Even if I am Nimbus, you probably shouldn't trust me. Without knowing what's going on, I wouldn't rely on me."

[Sticks]

A hint of dry amusement is audible in the voices, along with a profound weariness.

"We gave Nimbus a stone, feral one, for the same reason we gave you a stone. You were a hero of Creation when we needed one. Or rather, when we needed many. We did not mean to draw in an old ally, but we are grateful to the Maidens that such an event has come to pass. Your companions, the child of Dragons and the silver-clawed king, must enter before we clear the way."

[Inspector Valin]

"Oh! Fluffy, is that you?"

The voice is enough to get the strange woman to turn, and notice the soapstone bearing leopard also within the clearing. From monster to animal, but the coat seems similar. She smiles, waving at the creature. "I'm surprised you're still standing. I punched you really hard." She looks back to the patch of tangled shrubs that had seemingly served as a landing point, before returning her attention to her fluffy former foe. "I... guess we're working together now? You've got one of those stones too, and the voices trust you. Anyway, my name's Nimbus apparently. What's yours?"

[Ascension]

Though "Nimbus," or whoever she is, enters the storm before he's able to voice a rejoinder to her parting comments, Waldaharjaz steps in front of the Dragon-Blood before he can follow her. The Lunar bandit sheathes his artifact blades... and the way their wicked hooks somehow straighten themselves out in order to fit ordinary sheaths shows that they are no swords of jade... but he unsheathes a smile, and the force of his presence might be an even fiercer weapon than his uncanny arms.

"When you speak of ransom, you're assuming I allow you to return," he says. "And that your men will follow you back."

His eyes twinkle with dangerous amusement.

"Some of my best fighters once served in the Realm's legions. Do you think your, ah, 'poor innocent explorers' are loyal to you? Or only to your money?

He gives a cavalier shrug.

"We'll see."

He allows his good humor to drain away as he takes his own soapstone totem out of pouch at his belt.

"But if you were gifted one of these, our fates may be bound together by more than questions of coin and of freedom. Ours, and those other Exalted, and even that prince of Faerie."

Walda turns toward the storm.

"Whether you're still curious about these stones, or whether you want to keep hiding behind Sunshine's shield, you'd better come on," he says, and he steps into the winds.

Spoiler: OOC and Roll

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I'm sorry to do this to another PC, but I think I've got to have Walda try to put the fear of him into Adorei. Appearance + Presence, buffed by Terrifying Bestial Visage (if this is still the same scene as the fight, it's still active from when he tried to intimidate Siev; otherwise he'll reactivate it for another 5m). If this succeeds, in addition to gaining a Tie of Fear towards Walda, Adorei can't attack Walda this scene unless he spends 1 WP, and even if he does his Join Battle will be penalized by -1.

Spoiler: Roll

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(15d10)[8][9][3][2][7][9][8][3][1][1][6][4][9][10][1](81) (bonus dice for Walda's Appearance being higher than Adorei's base Resolve included)

[Malozing]

The Outlander's words make Decks arch his back. Slowly, he stalks towards her. Instead of a small leopard standing in front of her, the Outlander has a light-skinned man with a mess of tawny hair shoving his face in hers with a glare.

"I am not some house pet. DON'T CALL ME FLUFFY!" Decks growls, baring slightly pointed teeth.

The smell of muck and grasses cling to the sheep hide cloak wrapped around his torso. The black stripes along his neck match the ones seen on the clouded leopard and the leopard-man. Hazel eyes replace the cat’s amber eyes.

“Decks.” He introduces himself curtly after staring down Outlander for a few minutes.

[Inspector Valin]

"I got that when you charged at the caravan. Don't see that many housecats out for blood."

The woman before Decks looks... out of place. Light brown skin, the jacket and skirt in black, all suggest she's come a long way to reach the northlands. Her one concession to the weather seems to be a cloak of some thick brown fur, fastened at her neck with a simple iron choker, and a dark staff that looks to be made of pine. There's little evident sent clinging to her - be it man or beast, she's been travelling alone for quite some time.

The Outlander gives Decks an honest smile. He's not happy, likely about the whole 'punching' thing, and that is somewhat fair, but... well, apologizing feels like it'd make the situation worse rather than better. Just drawing more attention to it. Plus he and Waldawadava had been attacking an unarmed camp. The thought of the self proclaimed Flashing Blade of the Moon brings Nimbus back to the moment. She gestures towards the man's forehead. "You don't sound much like Walda, Decks. But you both had the same silver disk on your foreheads, and your other form looks like the beastmen he fights with. You're something to do do with him, right? His lieutenant or something?"

[Malozing]

"Walda?" Decks tilts his head. "I've heard about him, but I don't know him. I am the best scout of Kathaashi, not a lieutenant of Walda's. Anyway, the Realm should know better to come and try to try and steal Kathaashi land again. I had every right to remind them to stay away."

[Inspector Valin]

"Wait, you know Walda... but haven't met him?" The Outlander hadn't seen that one coming. She waves a hand in the direction they'd come from. "That was Walda's army you were fighting beside. I fought him after fighting you. He should be coming through here soon."

That abnormality addressed, she turns her attention to the yet more befuddling one. "And you think those people were trying to steal land?"

This idea seriously seems to have confused Nimbus. She looks at Decks quizzically, trying to follow his reasoning. "How would you even steal land? You could steal an animal, a sword, a tree.. but land?" She hums, seriously trying to consider this concept and how it might be implemented. "I guess you could force everyone else to not use it. Like some cities do. I don't think that's what they were doing though. They were just... travellers. Most of them didn't even look armed."

[Malozing]

"The Elders love gossiping." Decks shrugs one shoulder. "I was following my stone when that lot started me by running past me. Then I saw the Mon. They still have no right to be this close to our lands. We won't be made homeless weak again."

[Inspector Valin]

Something in what Decks said finally has an effect on the strange woman. She looks away from him, towards the basin that seems the centre point of this place. When she does speak again, her voice has lost its friendly, lighthearted edge.

"I have no home. But I'm not weak. And I'm not with this 'Realm'. All I saw was a great cat and a band of thieves attacking travellers who'd done nothing wrong. Whatever grudge you have with them, I suggest you reserve it for those among their number who can fight back, Decks."

That said, she turns and starts walking towards the basin again. As far as she's concerned this conversation's over for now.

[Malozing]

The man snorts. "The Realm wouldn't have you anyway. You, Walda, and I are just monsters to them. The little Dragon probably is hoping to pit us against each other so he won't have to go home in shame."

Decks moves off to a patch of catmint and plops into it.

[pfm1995]

"Some of my best fighters once served in the Realm's legions. Do you think your, ah, 'poor innocent explorers' are loyal to you? Or only to your money?

That sentence, in particular, steals the tongue from Adorei's mouth. A northern warlord, an anathema, who carries with him men and women too twisted by vile sorceries to fight. Who's men were once legionaries... and it wasn't difficult to guess which legion. The civil war was too new for Ledaal or Sesus deserters to have made their way this far north, which made the anathema's followers cast-offs of House Tepet, traitors who traded service and discipline for scant survival in the snow. Who were broken by the Bull, and his anathema allies...

"...half the time even when I help them, they just yell at me and tell me to go away before I recruit them for that 'Bull in the North' or whatever."

Brick by brick, strand by strand, a plan begins to take shape. Adorei had always hated the Gateway metaphor; it was trite, overused, and he frankly wasn't that good of a player. He preferred card games, where brinkmanship and the ability to read your opponent matter more than the actual rules of the game. And if he could build something out of the bones of House Tepet? So, so much the better. His own part in that unfortunate affair had always niggled, like a bug-bite that wouldn't fade, but that had always been the game hadn't it? Misplaced supplies, broken wagons... that House Tepet had been weak enough to fall spoke more to their weakness than anything else. Still...

He'd been betrothed to some House Tepet heir, before she fell in the Battle of Futile Blood. He'd never met her, and never would - her ghost had passed on. He'd checked.

The pangs of conscience, as well as whatever reminiscing was filling his head, were abruptly torn to shreds by the look the anathema gave him as it stepped away. He felt - felt in his skin and his soul - the ten-thousand voices of the Undworld flinch back from that iron gaze. Right, anathema... he thought, fingers spasming, trying to stop any trace of fear, of any emotion at all, from reaching his face. ...not to be trifled with. It was the way it turned its back on him that was most galling, not so much because it was dismissive, though it was, but because it was right. There was nothing he could do to kill it, not here, not now. He doubted that, if he tried to stab it in the back, he'd even be inconveniencing it.

He'd have to poison it first. Step by step, drop by drop, until it is wounded and hungry and all alone in the snow, and the wolves are closing in.

It'd given him a warning, too, about how it'd attack him next. His men and their loyalties... he had heard Immaculate propaganda about the lies the anathema told and how they could ensnare the minds of men. The living members of his retinue could be a point of weakness. He may have to act to make sure they aren't; there would be no room for mistakes here.

Mustering himself, not letting himself cast a glance back at the wagons lest they see him do so, he stepped into the snowstorm.

[Sticks]

"Ah, now we have a quorum." The voices are soft with relief, evident even as they are disembodied. "Please, descend into the basin. We have much to discuss. You have our assurance that we wish you no harm."

If everyone is willing to do as instructed, they find themselves and their new confederates walking down a gentle slope, the air growing heavy with icy mist, though the discomfort is less than would be expected. Every exhalation hangs in the air, forming small clouds of suspended crystals. The floor is an inch-thick layer of powder-snow, formed into a semi-solid crust that crunches pleasingly underfoot, with more hard-packed snow underneath.

At the bottom, there is a single pillar of ice nearly a yard thick, rough, crystalline and clear as glass, reaching waist-high on an adult woman as it juts from the ground. Above the pillar is a perfectly circular basin of ice twice the width of the pillar, and in that shallow basin is steaming water, an inch deep, from which warm vapor gently billows. The vapor ascends a yard or more, then cools and begins falling with a gentle tumble, becoming the thick mist that fills the surroundings, blocking the howling noise of the whirlwind.

Within the vapor, a shape begins to form. A long, coiled serpentine shape appears first, its scales gently shifting in ever-varying hues. The base is white, or perhaps midnight black, or moonbeam-silver, starlight blue, and throughout there are flashes of soft pinks, yellows, greens, reds and blues, all moving in a spectacular aurora. The serpent rises from its coils, and two more unusual features make themselves apparent. As it raises its body, two large wings unfurl a third of the way down its body, feather-textured and shaped like bird-wings, but encased in ivory or soapstone covered in carved patterns, symbols and designs just like the soapstones held by each chosen. The scrimshawed material continues up past the wings, encasing the creature's upper-body and head, where carved eyes and a snake's face are joined by delicately-carved feathers, each fine follicle intricately detailed in the hard white material. The creature's form, immaterial and shifting in the warm vapor, turns to regard each person with first one carved eye, then the other.

"Well, chosen, welcome to our cell. You may call me 'Mask'. I hope the journey was not too arduous, for we have much to discuss, and even more to do when the talk is over." Its tone is friendly, and it is clearly inviting the Chosen to speak their minds.

[Ascension]

Waldaharjaz looks curiously toward the other Lunar once he has broken through the storm's wall of winds and entered its interior. This is his first time seeing the man in his human shape, and he has many questions to ask him, particularly regarding his relationship (or lack thereof) with Pellervo the Fierce, but he holds his tongue for now. The storm is speaking, and under these circumstances, the spirit-voice takes priority.

Walda does not understand the supernatural, but that does not mean he doesn't respect it. Quite the opposite. He feels it's all the more important to cultivate a healthy respect for any power which one does not understand. He approaches the heart of the sorcerous storm, then, with a sort of cautious reverence.

Yet when the source of the voice is revealed as the draconic Mask, it does not demand worship, nor does it threaten. Rather, it invites conversation. Is this the life Luna's blessing has given him? A life in which he can simply talk with such a being as a peer? It boggles the mind.

But Walda is becoming used to the feeling that he's in over his head, and he is loath to back down from any challenge.

"You say 'cell,' Lord Mask?" he speaks up in question. "Are you a prisoner here, then?"

[Inspector Valin]

The Outlander gives both Walda and Adorei a smile as they steps through into the clearing. She might have Decks' hostility now, but if this place wants them to work together, she should probably try to be as welcoming as she can.

Mask... makes the strange woman's eyes go wide with delight and wonder. She hadn't seen a creature like this before. 'Nimbus' gasps at the sight of their host taking shape, a million questions buzzing in her mind. What the dragon had meant by her being an old ally, what he knew of her... it's hard to put those down as matters for later. But Seiv had been there for something, Mask had sounded scared. They need to understand this situation first. Other... matters can wait. She lets the spirit answer Walda's question, before stepping forward, holding up her soapstone. "This gathering wasn't by chance. You drew us here, reached out to us. Why?"

She makes a point to stand by the pale man as they speak with Mask, trying to give him an encouraging look. The other two she knows can handle themselves. Her fellow explorer, she's less sure of, and the bad blood from outside has her on edge. Best to keep close to him, just to be safe.

Spoiler: OOC

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Keeping in range to War Lion Stance on Adorei on the off chance combat does break out.