[IC] The Howling Wastes
"Of course!" The woman smiled, her eyes trying not to gaze at the water now streaming forth.
There is joy in her eyes, and hidden sadness at the miracle performed, but the lack of surprise is real.
"I should have known. HE said we only need have faith, and we would be rewarded. I am sorry for any of my doubts."
She would not meet Gaja's eyes after that.
You are lead back to the fire and the rest of the village. More questions are raised. There is an arnach roach burning on the fire.
It's HUGE, at least 10 times the normal size of the dog sized beast, and gives off an arid, disgusting smoke that is not normally associated with the tasty creatures.
Even from a distance, the smell is rather horrific.
No less than three men cook it, wearing filter masks and eye protection, carefully adding dried dung to the fire or pushing the thing's limbs so that they burned more easily, with long metal poles.
The healer's tent is also larger and far more active than it would be in most tribes, and there were a number of graves that had been placed. Substnatially more than you'd expect from a tribe given that they'd only been here six months.
The people, while a little gaunt, and many sporting injuries, are not starving or quite destitute yet. Children still played, and many were crafting or singing here and there. Most of the songs were more of the religious variety than her tribe, but this was not uncommon when the tribe needed spiritual help, and some tribes tended to focus more on the spiritual. Stone Lizard was known to be one such tribe.
Inja already had the eyes of the camp on her. Or more precisely, the eyes were on Gaja. She fell to the ground.
"The spirit speaker has returned. She opened the land and water came forth."
Open gasps from the crowd, and a few fell to their knees or began praising the spirits. One older man with unusual markings, clothing nd weapons spoke out "Well damn. Sonofabitch was right." in Vissian (of all things). He might not be literally worshiping Gaja, but even he looked impressed.
Slowly, a chant began to build "AS IT WAS FORTOLD" which gradually morphed
into an impromptu song, building into a crescendo of songs.
Sarnai whispered to Gaja "Is this normal?"
Out of one of the tents, a young man emerged. He was marked as the tribe's shaman, but it was hard to notice anything but his face and eyes, for he was painfully good looking, in a way that made one seriously consider that they might have some kind of inhuman heritage behind it. It reminded Gaja of the Fey that had freed them all and simply vanished, back on the island, though not nearly as pronounced.
He looked at Gaja, took in the priestly robes she wore. Though he did not smile, his lips locked into a solemn form, his eyes did. He raised a hand and the din was cut away.
He spoke. It was a voice of quiet compassion, but iron confidence, haunting and haunted. "You are not the one... but you must be one of his servants. I am Drune, Worldly Shaman of the Stone Lizards.
We wait, as instructed. None have approached the forbidden city. We have lost many tribesmen against the deadly beasts, and faced many challenges. Some of us have even shared doubts from the challenge, but the Stone Lizards are still ready to serve. Some have doubted in thought, but we have and will continue to remain FAITHFUL."
The word has power, and the tribe, except Inja and a few others, join in a chorus of affirmation, a wordless tone all Howlers know.
Inja, face silent, looks downward. A few in the crowd look guilty, and few looked angry at those individuals.
The man looked at Inja, and his thumb brushed her cheek "Inja. Face upwards! And those who look with hate upon our brothers, I bid you do not. Inja's way is to keep the tribe's body. This is not deserving of contempt. Your doubts.. all the tribe's doubts, were understandable. You did not see the visions as we did. You are not a shaman.
Let us all sing as one tribe, united. No anger. Not at those who did nothing but want to preserve the old ways. No anger. No reprisals. The path was treacherous, but we have arrived.. together. Let this strengthen us: once more, let us sing the affirmation, ALL OF US."
The crowd joined into a great explanation of joy and affirmation. At this range, the urge to join in the infectuous chant was a palpable force. Tears formed on many cheeks, even Sarnai's eyes moistened, though she did not feel it appropriate to join in the chant.
As the tribe once again rose into wordless chorus, the man gestured with his hands. Any Howler would have recognized them as hand signs. Perceptive howlers would know them as spirit blessings, made only by shamans. But only a shaman would know exactly what they meant.. was he expecting a counter sign to return the blessing?
Uh oh.
Gaja was not a shaman of any kind.