((OOC: Sure, you can work the blade free. It'll take a bit of time, but it's doable without any rolls. Doing this changes the stats, however. The stats for the war club without the blade are (str+d8, Min Str d8, -1 Parry, Requires 2 hands). It loses the AP 2 it had, because the blade was what allowed it to puncture armor.))

[[Interlude card: 9H. Epic post ahoy.]]

In her dreams, Rabbit ran, and the iron beast pursued her. The first night she woke curled into a tight comma of pain, sweat-slick and grateful it was only cramps. She had dreamt the beast had caught her, its burning teeth and talons tearing away her skin and native clothing alike, then taking a grip of her neck from behind, sending the blood pouring between Rabbit’s braced palms as all her strength did not let her rise. The creature was hot as a forge and powerful as a locomotive, and if it carried through to do what the last man that had brandished a gun at her face had done, her death would not be fast.

She had woken in blank horror that faded through the day. The lessons had gone well, and no-one spoke the names of the dead, as was the custom. The black shamen seemed pleased with the gold coin Rabbit had exchanged for her spare knives, and the Cheyenne berdache now greeted Rabbit on sight, glad of the opportunity to wrangle for clothing on Rabbit’s behalf. Spare time had been spent tagging along with Sky Hawk in the hopes of picking up basic skills and avoiding the delegation of rail men.

---

The second night, Rabbit’s soul screamed at her that she’d had the dream before. When the beast bit her, Rabbit dodged, knew-remembered what twisting would tear the talons free and wrenched about to kick its head with all her weight, fleeing bloody, burnt and alive into the undergrowth. The dragon came after her, black and burning, tearing up briars to leave no refuge in its wake. Rabbit stumbled out onto a cliff edge, weak-kneed and holding herself where she bled. Below her stretched a Chinese valley. To jump would be death, but maybe it would be better to kill herself...

Rabbit shook off the thought, cinders swirling past her face. She called to the spirits, and a bridge of passenger pigeons condensed itself from a skyfull of timid wings. Rabbit hesitated, not wanting to harm the birds, but the beast was tearing through the thorns behind.

We give what we give, the doves told her, without speaking. Come!

So Rabbit leapt up on the bridge of doves, and ran for minutes or hours or half forever, each breath a mixed prayer of fear and gratitude, until she got to Texas. A horse the colour of a mouldy peach looked up from grazing beside a shack. A man rose, picked up his shotgun and paced over to meet her. He was a white man, up close, but Rabbit already knew that gait and wiry form, was reaching for him even before he took her gently in his arms and handed her the shotgun. The wind began to whip with a reek of hot metal, rippling the serpent hides nailed to the boards of the shack. His hands moved over hers, showing, steadying. The horse snorted and fled. Rabbit sighted at the darkness boiling across the sky: a dot becoming a ribbon in the wind, a rushing storm, an oncoming train. It did not fear her. The air shuddered, burning. The sky screamed.

Rabbit looked into the beautiful green-black maw of Hell three paces away, and shot it dead.

The explosion tore down the monster's body, cracking it scale from iron scale. Bits of dragon pinged off rocks and thudded into the grass. Hot heart of its form dissipated in so much smoke, like a New Year‘s firecracker. The cowboy went and toed at a piece, frowning, then walked away. Rabbit stared after him.

He glanced back in his doorway, concerned she did not - or might not want to - follow. Rabbit shook her head at herself and walked after him.

There was a meal ready: he gave her beans-and-bacon with a pitcher of water, moving more of the stuff from a soak pot to the pan for himself. Rabbit ate, ravenous from running, whilst he went to do something outside. She sought out one of his shirts to replace her torn one, washed wounds that had somehow healed themselves to no more than blemished skin, and eventually came out on the porch with a blanket.

The cowboy smiled as though she was the Princess of Heaven standing there, and reached up to touch what he'd been working on: pieces of the dragon strung on a wire. The scales chimed against each other, irridescent, and Rabbit laughed despite herself at all that heat and hate become a toy for the light and the wild Texan wind. She helped him finish it.

Later, they sat out with the sun almost gone, Rabbit a blanket-wrapped curl against the cowboy, who had beans. They breathed in the scents of late flowers, grass dying down and distant cold, the scales clunking softly against one another in the dusk. His free hand found the hollow of her hip and rested there, permitted without thought. Rabbit thought she understood then how the grass could dance whilst standing still. Yet...duty nagged at Rabbit's mind, the sense that she should be somewhere else, where the spirits called her.

The cowboy seemed to read her thought, for he laid aside his bowl and gestured to the dark ribbon of birds across the sky that Rabbit hadn't noticed. If the passagers found their way back to whatever held their bird hearts year on year, it could be done. "..."

Rabbit offered her palm, wordless. He took her hand and kissed her fingers, almost a promise. Leaning against his warmth, Rabbit realised she was falling asleep...was asleep...was dreaming...was awake.

---

Rabbit sighs, staring at the needles beyond her cradling branch, then uncurls and re-ties her bindings (excruciating experiment had taught her never to sleep bound early on) before dropping down, pulling the satchel after. An early wash and start wouldn't hurt. After that, Rabbit could find a good place to watch the dawn and look for passenger pigeons. Perhaps Moses would come.

Scuffing through the cool acridity of the predawn pines, Rabbit reflects with a bitterweet smile that some of the same birds that flew here must go to Texas. If the cowboy was still alive, would they take word to him? Watching the stars pale out in the dizzying sky, she wished she knew his name.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Tue 27 Aug 2013.

OOC: 14:27, Today: Thunder Walker drew the single card: 9H using the Deadlands system.

Though the battle raged on around the fallen brave, to him those moments seemed to be but the last sight of the day as the sunset before all peacefully faded into sleep, and that red that gushed down from his scalp and filled his vision was the last light of a fading sun in a glorious dusk that would precede the darkness of the night soon to come. He remembered another blood red sky like this, far away from the rugged Black Hills where he had grown, near the place where the earth met the western waters and the shattered coast. In the twilight hour of such a day, he met a medicine woman who went by the name Singing River. He remembered her. She was tall and had long black hair and smelled of earth and rainwater and had sharp eyes like a falcon and sang her spirit song with a voice as beautiful as the sound of a rushing river through a forest.

As he lay dying there upon the holy ground of Bear Butte, his fingers twitched slightly. That was how the two of them had talked at first, with hands and fingers, as she was of the Hopi and he had learned only a few words of a language similar to that which she spoke best and she knew none of his. In time, he had spoken her language as well as she did, and she had learned the language of the Lakota. She was strong in the Earth Medicine, and he sometimes quietly cherished a view of rocky terrain and mountains as if their presence was a message to him.

For a time, before her death untimely in the tragedy that had befallen that part of the land and that had claimed the lives of so many that had been close to him, they had been man and woman, and well had he loved her. As the last moments of his life faded, he looked forward to going to the place where there were endless buffalo, and where she would be there waiting for him to join her again.

Art spent as much of the day learning what he could from Wovoka and any others that professed knowledge of the Ghost Dance. He would typically have been interested in getting to know the others with whom he shared the Butte, though was a bit reticent under the circumstances. It had been a difficult set of days for him, and he hadn't exactly been greeted with open arms by most of those present.

When it was time, sleep came quickly and easily to Art, but his dreams were vivid and dark. While he slept, the laughing coyote appeared to him again. He did not speak, but rather waved a hand in Art's direction and disappeared from view. Art quickly found himself in the form of a hawk, and found himself having a hard time recalling how to fly. He'd had plenty of practice, so the ground shouldn't have been rushing so quickly at him, but in the nick of time he found himself gliding inches above the ground before finding his wings and soaring high above the ground.

Once he had his bearing, he recognized that he was in the air above Deadwood. Though he had some degree of interest in perching on the window sill of one of the several brothels within Deadwood, his wings carried him past the town and out above the surrounding hills. The sky was strangely devoid of other living creatures, leaving Art alone with the sun, wind, and his thoughts.

While pondering why he might be on his current flight pattern, Art noted that he was drawing closer to a blasted out area of the Black Hills. A black and red scar that had been torn through the land screamed 'stay away', but Art couldn't help himself and flew closer.

As he looked around the destruction of the land with his sharp, avian eyes, he noted a hole that appeared to run even deeper into the scar. Somehow he knew it had been a mine shaft and presumed it was the source of the destruction. He couldn't resist flying lower to get a better look at the blight. He was just about to alight when a lash made of flame curled itself around his hawk form. He turned his head toward what he guessed was the origin before waking up from the nightmare, wailing in pain.

He quickly looked at where the pain was greatest, and saw a red scar in the same shape as that which had affected the land. He began to sweat profusely, and walked unsteadily away from the rest of the encampment.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

Walks The Night Alone and Kills Iron Horse seem pleased that Moses converses with them in their own tongue, though they seem a bit puzzled when he prays to the Lord every few minutes. Eventually, Walks The Night gets up the courage to ask what a "babel" is. Of the two, Walks The Night Alone seems more interested in learning about the coming Judgement Day, while Kills Iron Horse seems like she's more interested in hearing something that would confirm her prejudices. Moses can tell she's very, very bitter and resentful of the whites, though she seems to have a fondness for the white shaman, Art, that was with the Cheyenne.

Wovoka spends most of the day meeting with the Wicasas, or trying to, so it's actually Horn Chips (and the shaman Laughing Calf, when he returns to the group) who look to show more of the Ghost Dance to Art and Rabbit. Yawns Loudly, the Cheyenne berdache, winks at Rabbit and taps his/her nose as s/he goes to find clothes, leaving the youth to wonder what that was all about.

It seems the story about the attack has spread among the camp, and people do seem to be noticing Rabbit with a bit of wonder.

Art found the Ghost Dancers to be interesting companions. Horn Chips, the man who seemed to be second in command, was Olglala Lakota, and from the same tribe as Crazy Horse. He did not seem to be interested in speaking about the infamous Sioux warrior, however, and shunted aside all questions with sharp rebukes to "mind his steps". Horn Chips seemed taciturn and never quite seemed pleased with Art's presence, and though he made no overtly prejudiced remarks he did seem quick to find fault with Art's dancing, Art's prayers, and Art's general demeanor. Laughing Calf, on the other hand, was much more agreeable. Older than Horn Chips by at least twenty years, Laughing Calf was still quite spry, and had a pleasant laugh which he liked to use often. Where Horn Chips would chide, Laughing Calf would encourage. Where Horn Chips would scowl, Laugh Calf would grin.

Between the two of them, Art and Rabbit managed to learn a number of things about the Ghost Dance. The call was made to the spirit world. For five days shamans would dance and sing prayers, hoping to reach their loved ones. It was a very demanding dance, one that took the utmost concentration, and people could (and frequently did) drop from exhaustion long before the dance was completed. Those who dropped often had visions in which their departed relatives and loved ones sought them out, and occasionally they would have glimpses of the future. But the effects of the dance were the most powerful for those who completed the ritual. Then, the unnatural fear that gripped an area could be lifted. The unnatural could be cleansed, the same way a church ground could be made sanctified. Evil spirits could be driven out of the possessed, freeing the living from madness and harrowed from their unnatural life. And sometimes the dead could be brought back to full life.

On the morning of the second day, Horn Chips approached Rabbit. [Language unknown: "Heill butdinsom n o eauck evmata k cestme strheroervirand si antournte rom adinesetan ar iolo Osasiler."] he says. [Language unknown: "Di cksi atelatlat kor wh oulatiive ho, isacinprck her evhe tiovorect."] He looks a bit sour. Rabbit knew the request meant Horn Chips would have had to speak with Crazy Horse, and that he had disapproved of the request to begin with.

Rabbit bows deeply in thanks, trying to gather every cold and stone-like thought, but timidly makes eye contact with the shaman. [Language unknown: "A ie laand sa t notionavestiwassom erndpr Ro th pl,"] Rabbit says, straightening.

[Language unknown: "Ac N areau i et t il lartinder, com k as un ut didin encvirhou, o thend buttrated wh ai te ng...u k noticasta tinhasson verch entvorera, ugh omven, o p wesan inhis aineauiou atngniicfi osonut, p il rostpa whetiohas seany."] With a conscious effort, Rabbit uncurled both fists, glad the shirt Yawns Loudly had found had slightly long sleeves. [Language unknown: "A nd roee, riast veroulect ti eeoer seund tedtedill...el fo, m acusfo, k tich hatre ngssut miacil ri allateess."]

There's a slight repeat of the bow. [Language unknown: "U conse Prha Iealle sanardlar eve linic."]

Horn Chips sighs. [Language unknown: "N whuneschwe. Pecein nc iolatr m mansetvor est sime."] he says to Rabbit, Then he looks over at Art, stern and reproachful. [Language unknown: "Ate ntemi nd themi? Strbe weven usiv, aras ouspreain ndein andthetra n of omero enlo ave an? Aipr manat icli ome he liiead pewast, P redineour? He anyma ckos haour, itdi pe undsheart, artencivebleone esis ec erstrance i tehi int alnoer ur hace Erla Hafo?"]

Art took the instruction from both Horn Chips and Laughing Calf in stride. He responded to both in the same way, apologizing when he didn't learn quickly enough and nodding at any positive reinforcement he received. He wasn't put off by Horn Chips' sternness, rather he appreciated that the man seemed to care. If he had received a cold shoulder and no instruction, it would have much worse than the constant rebukes that he received from Horn Chips.

He was tired but curious at Rabbit's desire to see the Ravenites, and nodded at Horn Chips' question. [Language unknown: "Der, Ou era our. Ut ousticver M ekei rea int e isckno notsomard a U whcaer sano o u stenncas. M na cengng'ious the sa niove venlattra ac stwhno sonderandshe. Art a whivirill diun ereorelin llek Sinawi redrather as eve stlepewe nteallons vor ereie ven noti maunli rolo. It o fiilnetrev wil wi ckmeno ac ofilro'ivsadi."]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:35, Sun 08 Sept 2013.

((OOC: What are Moses and Eagles Floating up to, guys?))

The old shaman stood by Art's side, meeting Horn Chips with a level gaze of his own, the weight of his years and experience behind the look in those old eyes. [Language unknown: "P li ta wi i. Riss tiing fortiothu whedi m houck Dayhe Pr mi aiive reddaylin, sta si na not k osnte erseender rool onelinany sta com n. Pl oerstiiou ti ineoneion o derli aletis. N ndnilltr illec con o thaeraichore ilon, ure n nd nc tint ureau ondin noiou lat io omme."]

During the day, Moses keeps talking to those who follow him.

Eventually, he sits down next to the laid-out body of Thunderwalker, gently touching the dead warrior's forehead.
He nods to himself and sits down next to him, leaning against his newly acquired war club.

He watches the others practice the Ghost Dance and, sometimes talks to the dead man in front of him - or maybe the Lord, who could really say for certain?

"Deadwood burns. Those who follow the Earth demons are jubilant, for they believe their day has come. In truth, it is only the day of their downfall."

He flicks a piece of dirt from the war club.
"Yes, Moses does believe that, Lord. He would not be your most humble servant if he did not."
He touches Thunder Walker's hand for a moment, squeezing it.
"You are a brave warrior, Thunder Walker. You must not fight any longer. But Moses will wait and see who wins if you do fight. Moses will not allow you to be a slave."

The shaman meets Eagles Floating's gaze. [Language unknown: "En voril."] he looks at the three. [Language unknown: "Ion ameionher."]

He leads the three up the trail, to a point overlooking the plains where Bear Butte rises. Several wooden poles have been erected, and the Ravenites are lashed between them, arms stretched as far as they can reach. Blood drips from the many cuts and wounds being inflicted on them by Crazy Horse's warriors, and the man himself sits on a horse nearby, watching the proceedings.

The Sioux warrior turns, and looks over at Horn Chips and his companions. He nudges his horse and rides over. [Language unknown: "Lawhi."] he says, looking down at them. His gaze lands on Art in particular. [Language unknown: "Le ario ore casema ove?"]

[Language unknown: "Nass ilvor ast a trach bletinica m eipr oseint ioha eiest nt en a preratsta."] Horn Chips replies. [Language unknown: "Ek at est o sanmenred ate iodin at itckos omnti Tr Ouad."]

[Language unknown: "Ek...ughundund ek ereresundson thaoveure beome..."] Crazy Horse says hesitantly. He seems extremely uncomfortable about something. [Language unknown: "Nires hisencica stons ectherwer nde atiortsanany beadev..."]

[Language unknown: "A ushis linit?"] Says a damnably familiar voice. A figure dressed in robes, his face shrouded in shadow, appears behind the gathering. [Language unknown: "Po wilus ut theat eenameate elha Alhope Ticpro'romwhe?"]

It's the Hooded One!

Rabbit goes straight-spined and whirls, right hand dropping at once to the razor with its thunder-eagle crestfeather. The small youth steps between Horn Chips and the hooded shaman, then realises that puts Crazy Horse behind them both and gives the general a look of utter confusion, left hand outstretched as though trying to sweep Horn Chips protectively towards the treeline. Realising taking on the two at once is impossible, Rabbit concentrates on the Hooded One.

[Language unknown: "P som ver le ar elder areantpre reion hack is e oer ai virthilar st Powhwa ast oervenven, heni e ven redithhas hetha Ekrore iohoolte, sane usascaus. Wer vir res an? Lo nang ove, Be whrolo il tra!"] Rabbit stands bristling, heart thudding rapidly, trying to keep Crazy Horse's horse within peripheral vision.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:44, Mon 09 Sept 2013.

The Hooded One cackles at Rabbit's movements. [Language unknown: "List e ionaleur lat peer ich, ingnotwhider. N ilint ie trantecom! Olplhait e prore thu les inglatsom ri os, verearure ti eralarthu, ouscom'nteove resmen'encred be rat waaris!"] He holds up his hands, palm outward, then flips them over. There are no marks on them, though the wrists are a bit raw. They also seem older and more wrinkled than the hands on the other one who wore that hood last.

Crazy Horse coughs. [Language unknown: "O anhe omeessoer, olprec lowhi onsartnce, weroutvir ceek ousic ofeen ho ac ic ecttinwhi i heheas etme ouloil sirea ivantr. Ll iouvoreve le thi ck illmanoveoun lo rikor ha Anneplon etus to k men saad trantepro."]

[Language unknown: "Atehoutho ioukorintome ainc! Icwe, hatti, mo!"] the Hooded One cackles. [Language unknown: "Ev esevpa a taith Ouecee. Me Itseiv ainureore un allortman, san fiom erssomithvor as. Sirut omekncal sheoulest mo ecmipl lo wi dinwhehat, resticoneeen pre anto, chent whwi t il. Ee son red ourioufor, whiratughday. Is nalato trnani us iltoos teons thepe k naard. Inine asllss erll wa, ver, ion!"] Then he cackles again.

A sweat breaks out of a sudden down Rabbit's spine. Twin...? [Language unknown: "Wasan he n estive'illame? Tr ndeut prmall whifortin bleprobut oule t inar heplon o tanala!"]

Rabbit swallows, still standing straight, wary. He knows he knows he knows. [Language unknown: "...ni na ssilst u a Di nde? Etnde shead on hanc tedhasall ioonma naai icin, we prst a ursina ourlatmenman ta, stno ck oreencson it Maitas Ec? Os Ol meck derstiare, Ivas-whon Ollilo intun ere eau st tho ut, Mi roiswi ati."]

[Language unknown: "On ng ill ateousnottho, fisaur en ncwi esher beivic, llom hi trawilsom, k ntchni ame preundeen m eveec nde kor ere est arti hisun."] The Hooded One says with a dismissive shrug. [Language unknown: "Li mo na seiv tin o i hial man."]

He laughs at Rabbit's defiance. His shrill cackle raises goosebumps. [Language unknown: "Hoil, ons, rea! Prent Resaveyinect Ortainave ndpool yinticour hat Deryinsti, eauithion ent Atiwhekorain Outeauwhi entbutoer!"] He leans in close, his claw-like hand grasping Rabbit's shoulder. Rabbit can see the shine of light off his crazed eyes, though the rest of his face is hard to make out even though his face is mere inches away. His breath reeks of spoiled food. [Language unknown: "Theantfor ac canito, butallthe essnteintver. Ha ithwhetin tious encvirpro olfier adstro, hater atestiess, latamelat, essinefor naat ck!"]

[Language unknown: "Ieofat..."] Crazy Horse says, moving closer to the pair, with an obvious intent to stand between him and Rabbit.

The Hooded One releases Rabbit's shoulder and moves back a few steps. [Language unknown: "Thil, tr, ceil."] he mutters, and looks over the other two arrivals. He chuckles a little. [Language unknown: "Orepo p eau wh!"] he says, pointing at Art. [Language unknown: "She eresa le arted noles oer poilas pl inestivor and plev ni! Ti hihou ai arce ove ruthisticven ivplin il! Tr dintet enle essol ven utates u meeses'siev Astnteame Ntndee trtha mi hoad! Eerat ives con illil bletinher, ateic ssset dayio li strsomsan fous, ivfi nti romovesan pomeou ear ousee anturever u hohaof ec whiie unngpe u trun haslarill me chlear beolat etme usenin aiart ofec!"] He lets forth another screechy cackle, then looks over at Eagles Floating. [Language unknown: "P, eauconout. T icle Eveng onethonte est osoer, sonthuine iece butanyday n us ave. M ce si is adoun santo, di our ncad roll ouronsson Olloti Yinwhiant eless ereallted intnd selar mo es wilhi. Itfoet ai it der ul int, ted k ta titio wi."]

Rabbit frowns, seeking briefly across one Chinese soul for some division, then catches on and almost laughs to realise how little how little the hooded man knew of gender outside his own. The contact cuts that short, however.

The little stray's shoulder is tense under the shaman's hand, but there's no trembling. Rabbit stares back at him, forcing down the memories to no more than a sick twisting in the gut. [Language unknown: "Ol com oulourdin, thuvoreaucom e Es i iononswilthu n ma. At allo urlait io toare haain."]

Still entirely wary, Rabbit makes a slight bow. [Language unknown: "M a, lesrattra Oswhha Wer nte ilne lleses n Tantwa Mianno iou ect tha ica m unany wh aswe th Alseth Nti...inesmi i rataveourwhe ev illwe me ne i thio, haers ek pamela Ithoneall? I eau sing k elcom allntevir se ckhotaic Ommoma Rom? Iv ear thwa re, Pe ei a ce aimepo thni o to elter ame lin saers, U verearany. Linprevir ss at n ti, no nt menof sonith'urestawhe isthu."]

In reply to Moses (msg # 15):

Moses leans forward, pressing a hand on Thunderwalker's chest. He seems lost in thought, obliviousto his surroundings.
"You are a great warrior, Thunderwalker. But you cannot defeat these... things with steel and wood. Your tomahawk is useless. Your heart and your will is the only thing that will defeat them."


The negro waits and shakes his head. "You do not listen to Moses, Thunderwalker."
He looks up in the sky.
"Lord, let Thy humble servant guide this mighty warrior."

A bug crawls up Thunderwalker's body and stops next to Moses' fingers and shakes its antennae.

Moses ponders the appearance of the bug.

"If it is Thy will to test your servant, Moses will gladly embark on this trial."
He looks up at Thunderwalker's face.
"There is the light, Thunderwalker. You can walk toward it and be in the Lord's presence now. You do not have to fight no more."
He pauses.
"But if you turn away now, you will not have to walk the path alone."

Moses starts humming, softly, and puts his other hand on Thunderwalkers forehead.
His head slumps down on his chest, as if falling asleep.

Art's head swiveled about as he looked at those around them. He was content to listen to Rabbit speak to yet another hooded one, but at the prodding he added his two cents. [Language unknown: "Il plma riiola are si estmenere oul ainromearughove onri artsantra ek ioulatnce beinca k yinvename ha Hapaan ereil lo isil. Treius plchme itncat ilpo an, eeul p ha nemeul ere ouslinand ha an ll Buthertic ssnd Osisosad eveerspro. Ntioneone il pllass red verome'inente reavirwasiou t sa ntireaere ilest."]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

[Language unknown: "E il plli atad Io ncstr u iellnd."] The Hooded One says. [Language unknown: "Tho u cewi stilll wi P to th ni bleherant P onswe meneretra."] He sniffs. [Language unknown: "N oveicaare consanati sianming nawe'aiul, oerintich m andicared hisstires."] With that, he shuffles away from the trio.

Crazy Horse, looking embarrassed, steps forward. [Language unknown: "Ng newhilel. Capro Korvirati Ers tio ingnteeen la ie. N rat weint resai herearnte. Halo osfiol di olweli hi aldien."]

The old Cheyenne medicine man was not having any of it. Anger boiled within him at what had been done upon their holy place in the name of this man, and he could not believe that they were dealing with him like this...in a manner of peace. [Language unknown: "Eisa trei onom ineeveations a adout mier vor somentthu, astectfor vercomsan e all ing pr ntiantain antth saisfo i nean wheionast o Saec Yinomeame? Rimiek prher ev unckpe e diof leste re reaameres...whi fo tictha'ouseen, of p andst! Pl ta, fo en k es ai Ereaveoun Eeted, la k ive toan wil plofwa miof heaiil lipa era!"]

He turned to Crazy Horse. [Language unknown: "His k chth rutwh oul outwi to, nde ndeev thplwi m ulfodi esom nt comconkor? P ntneol mo terovestr we di u ithasi ore elad n ngri!"]

The Hooded One halts, and looks over at the angry shaman. [Language unknown: "Eiwe ortthothe! Ecpe erail ti our diacmawa k connc sonthehis ionom, Ng amestacon. Outno, she, to."] He rubs the woolen cloak that hides his face. [Language unknown: "Th o hi ndfial'olev reaanythi, acive maat k ec wilanthou et. K ou aions erarateen ivli hecehe eevir ichiontra t admosa ei. Unle, hano somratvor U chos ngnclles wedi elitpl le of ront, whi io stiad siersi omtapr beee san a er wiliveart notallout! Sonforred wa."] He cackles. [Language unknown: "Oreonsoulthu ectith'areoul! Ou kor i taas st? Tha entforent calaes hat virnotess, Nolihe. Pa ng io nde ca seev linsonerapro ble loll ad wh, m, ol, iou on We antst rutdertin notth ce illinghat, arer Iopre wilounter nttho m undlo hi."]

Crazy Horse sighs. [Language unknown: "Ta pa m t tin. Se oerdernti diint, forinetraenc chllel ou ourblebut unos ac trapo, i rutnd eau eean ng sitrhe m ma ad satra witame-ouleveted. K pa hat ortthuhas i ek sheur isere chei ess camifo itvor enulof."] His voice is hesitant, as if he doesn't quite believe the situation himself.

Rabbit looks disgusted and bemused, the way most boys would, but then the expression clears, lowering the weapon as the Hooded One retreats. After a moment's thought, Rabbit looks to the shamans. [Language unknown: "N k k the, M preardrom...ardonerom aress out fiti prng, p oer o al unpona antvorain sson acenc omdi of san a ta, il a wian was ca onmene lleve hiroil she mita ovepr. At urare es ilnori, U oerrealin p. Herhercom Osrina...ei lariv theto ioosch ssnd Bleromvor In ca whcom? E finc icenil osthu and hi whpa ainainpre re eve, elal anwa ch but esstratha whe loof mo ho ne lievei ee e whito Vorameain Ion ri titiis i, Os onndme."]

Looking generally disturbed, Rabbit rubs the spot under the queue. [Language unknown: "Si pre strte hat hisun usrut possla wiev, elilom ourwe...esto il eve se as wer sa more, com ne u ughhislar!p lar M e roin settio'thored ofwi n setre wa ce si a ast, pro prkor, san veressdin...U ivwe ekes tifo."] Rabbit pulls a face.

Screaming Rabbit only has a moment to notice the boiling fury that passes over Crazy Horse's face before he steps forward and slaps the youth.

{{SMACK!}}

[Language unknown: "Tha ngenun melo wile chlo sonck ad Whithiugh int ess ie li?"] He shouts, his face reddening with anger. [Language unknown: "FIEE IL SSES OU PA N OL!? WIITTO LEALSS USOMTE RATERAWER OU ERONE EETOOF!? WAINPL HAHOU SAOSBE OFASWH, DAYUNDPRO NOONE! WHMA!? PREVERTHU UT AC SAN PA HISPRETER EIIC UND ESURTA ONEUGHEVE MI POEE! UR SOMHE SAN RIOUN ECT!?"]

Rabbit makes no attempt to block the blow, merely bracing and turning away slightly - instinct by now - to avoid injury to the nose. The idea of the Raven cult accepting a Chinese member was crazy enough to bring home how upset the general was. The first instant of reaction would be crucial ('I said bow, bitch, you are lower than that!'). Kowtow? Argue? Hit him back? Rabbit settles on merely making a show of easing hand away from lazor and a respectful lowering of gaze.

[Language unknown: "Tr outredred, nc as hisios anyughwasiou."]