A small family ranch on the way to the Northern Wilds proper. There's a two-storey house, a shed, a barn, and a large fence that covers up a good chunk of the grasslands by the barn. The closest neighbour is about a mile away.

The surrounding area is all open field except for around the buildings where trees have been planted for wind cover. The family has what passes for cows these days and two horses, usually seen grazing out in the fence until sunset. There's also a large garden behind the house.

From --> En Route - The Northern Wilds

Scare Crow grunted and nodded when asked if he could do jumps. He wouldn't be doing any today. It was hard to breathe as things stood. If he tried anything fancy he thought the girl might squeeze him to death. He kept the bike moving slow and tried to avoid sudden dips in the field. It was a longer drive than he'd expected. Not too long. But if Cassie walked, it must have taken about forty minutes. If she moved quickly and didn't stop.

When the ranch came into view, he tilted his head to glance at Cassie. He tried to seek confirmation that this was the place. Her head was low. She wasn't looking at him. Scare Crow didn't like talking and didn't want to shout over the motor. So he assumed this was the house. He shifted the bike smoothly and sped up until they reached the wind shelter, then downshifted again and crawled to a stop by the barn.

He let the motor hum. He patted one of the arms Cassie had locked around his stomach, trying to get her attention and show they were done moving. He eased the girl onto the ground then gave her a thumbs up. Then he pointed to the handlebars. He twisted the throttle so the bike spat and roared. He looked between it and Cassie, nodding encouragingly, so she could try for herself. Then he turned the ignition and shut it off.

For now he left the key in. He knew people didn't always take kindly to him poking around. Especially places that weren't for commerce, like this little homestead. A masked face was usually up to no good. And he was not a welcoming presence to begin with. Ideally the fact he delivered the child would make him more palatable. He needed someone to take care of his arm. He had no supplies and limited medical knowledge.

He looked at Cassie again, tilting his head questioningly, then glanced around to see if her family would come investigate all the noise he'd made.

An older man in his mid-to-late forties, barely more than skin and bones, with wild stringy red hair and dressed in little more than a loincloth, leather vest, and steel-toed boots sat before a smokey campfire in the middle of the clearing between the barn and the house. His skin was painted with various pigments in complex geometric symbols and runic script, and his hair bore various beads, small bones, and bits of metal.

He was chanting something, sitting cross-legged next to the fire, fanning it with a large piece of plywood.

Upon seeing Scare Crow draw near he leaped to his feet, pointing at the arrivals, cupping his other hand to his mouth and shouting. "Praise be to the spirits! Salvation has arrived! The child has been saved! Glory, glory to the savior, as spoke of in my visions, who has delivered joy from the heart of sorrow!"

Perhaps as a form of punctuation, he held up a small tin and shook it wildly, rattling the small objects it contained. "The spirits will be done!"

Cassie let Scare Crow lift her down from the bike. When he offered the throttle to her she turned it a few times, loudly revving the motor, grinning in a rather accomplished manner. When the bike was off the girl noticed Red Feather, looking confused. She wasn't aware of the small search party looking for her and in her young mind the welcome seemed rather unwarranted.

"Hi Mr. Feather," she greeted, passing the riding helmet back to Scare Crow. She had met the shaman earlier in the morning but hadn't talked to him all that much. She tapped Scare Crow's leg and whispered conspiratorially (though not quite quietly enough for Red Feather not to hear.) "That's Mr. Red Feather, daddy's letting him stay up in the loft, my brother Louis says he does magic and talks to ghosts. He knows lots of weird stories."

Before further introductions could be made, a teenage boy of about 16 or 17 came sprinting from the field out behind the barn armed with a shotgun. He was panting. He'd started running back to the house when he heard the motor coming. "Cass!" he shouted. "You're in big shit!"

He came closer to the trio, keeping the shotgun trained toward Scare Crow suspiciously. The raider naturally cut an imposing figure and the eerie mask plus him being covered in blood didn't help matters. "Who's this, he hurt you?"

"Noo!" Cassie protested, flailing her arms to ward off her brother. "Don't shoot him! That's Scared Crow! A bunch of dogs chased me up in a tree and he killed 'em all!"

Louis lowered the gun but still didn't look very trusting. He took a walkie talkie out from one of the deep pockets of his oversized jacket. "Hey, we found her. Some... guy just brought her back on a bike. Guess all the prayers worked."

"On the way," a masculine voice squawked through the radio.

"The spirits are always listening," Red Feather brought his hands together slowly in front of him. "Sometimes they respond. And sometimes the response is something we want to hear. Today they have brought your family a hero, a savior. A Sacred Crow, saving the world of tomorrow from the Dogs of War."

Scare Crow watched the long-haired man. He was shouting and jumping around. Usually that wasn't good. Right now he wasn't sure what to make of it. Excited to see the kid. He understood that. What he didn't understand was the talk of visions and spirits. Hell's Point observed some rituals. But it was more a ceremonial excuse to get drunk and ask for victory in battle. Not devotion. Or whatever this was. His masked face stared expressionlessly at the other man for a long moment. The only movement he made was to move his hand to the hilt of his knife.

Finally the stare was torn away when Cassie tapped his leg. Scare Crow tilted his head inquisitively to ask do you know him? It became apparent she did. In a sense. His posture relaxed slightly. Only to immediately tense again when the boy ran over and pointed a gun at him. He growled and started to draw his knife, trying to menace the young man even in his injured state. Once the gun was lowered he sheathed the knife.

For the rest of the exchange he sat quietly. His head swiveled between the kids and Red Feather as they spoke. He shook his head at Red Feather.

"Scare Crow." The voiced that filtered through the mask was deep and modulated. He didn't understand the poetic speech. He thought it was another case of his name being misheard. "No spirits. Only me."

He tapped the hilt of his knife demonstratively. Dried blood caked his torso, hands, and arms. Fresh blood seeped from the mangled bite on his forearm. He sounded irritated. He killed the dogs. Not spirits. Him and his knife. Whatever gods this man prayed to would want nothing to do with Scare Crow. Like with most things, he had been by himself.

Red Feather was anything but a young man, appearing in age somewhere between thirty and seventy, depending on how the light hit the wrinkles in his face, worn like leather.

"Scare Crow. Sacred Crow. Corvus Cornix - the hooded crow. A hero by any other name would fight as brave for the child of another." Sacred Crow was what the little girl had called the man, but the correction didn't seem to matter to the wild-eyed (and haired) shaman. "In life we are often the hands of the spirits - or their fists.

He flexed his fingers. "Or their hands! An open hand is a tool, a clenched fist a weapon of war. Like a knife! Designed as a tool, but turned to war to rip and tear and kill. Weapon and tool both. Like yourself, Scare Crow. You killed a dog? But you saved a child. Killer and savior both, hunter and hero. The hunter kills the dog, the hero saves the child. And I ask you - which will have more power to change the world? Killing the dog or saving a child? Which is your greater power?" He continued to ramble, nearly hopping, clearly excited by the idea.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Mon 03 Dec 2018.

Poor Scare Crow was incredibly confused. He didn't understand some of the man's strange words. Corvus Cornix. It sounded made up. It didn't sound like an insult. So he didn't get mad. From what he parsed in the man's flowery speech and made up words, he was praising him. It didn't rub him the right way either. Red Feather didn't know him. Yet he was very... excited. Strange man.

A short, barking laugh emitted from Scare Crow. He was amused. "Greater... 'Power?'" he repeated after the man. He seemed to consider the question. After a moment he rose from the bike to his full, considerable height and walked closer to Red Feather.

"Killing," Scare Crow answered. He took the question literally, as "what are you best at?" "Good at killing. Always better at killing."

Scare Crow was a killer. He'd killed more than he'd saved. Taken more children from their homes than returned. The world had been made a worse place by having him in it. On some level, he knew this.

He moved his face uncomfortably close to Red Feather's, studying his eyes. The lenses of Scare Crow's mask were reflective, his own expression obfuscated. He growled out in a challenging tone. "What about you? Old man. You fight?" He leaned in closer as if to touch foreheads. Or headbutt him. "Save? Like killing?"

His body language looked relaxed despite the snarling and invasion of personal space. He wasn't genuinely looking for a fight. In his own way, Scare Crow was being playful with the strange man. Or trying to be. Raiders hadn't taught him the most friendly type of humour growing up unfortunately. But the intent was there.

Red Feather maintained steady eye contact with Scare Crow, pressing his own forehead against the larger man's, though it was clear the old man barely weighed more than the feathers for which he was named and could be shoved aside with the slightest effort. "Killing is nothing special. Dogs kill. Rats kill. Survival is nothing special. We all survive, but someday we all die." He pointed to the girl. "Saving her! That is special. That matters. Beasts do not offer salvation. Only men. Saving her turns pointless survival into power. And what is power? The ability to change the world. You have that power, Crow, and today you have used it."

Scare Crow slapped Red Feather on the side of the head when he pressed his head forward. Not hard enough to seriously hurt, only enough to jolt the man's face away. The mask gave no tells but underneath it he stifled a laugh. He nodded approvingly. Then the raider shifted back and gave Red Feather some breathing room. He looked over at Cassie when he pointed. He stared for a moment then looked back at Red Feather. Low, rolling laughter bubbled up from his chest and he shook his head.

"Funny little man. Talks a lot. Thinks too much."

He thought Red Feather was reading too much into matters. Crow fought the dogs on a whim. He never thought himself to be in real danger. He liked to fight. He'd wanted a fight. Not salvation. Grand concepts were lost on him. He did not philosophize. Scare Crow could barely even read. He did not see why one girl was given so much significance, or what she was meant to represent. One child would not affect the world at large. And certainly saving one by chance did not begin to make amends for things he'd done. Things he did not feel all that bad about.

"World's the same. Maybe she leaves again." He looked at Cassie. His tone implied this wasn't a good idea. "Gets killed by new dogs."

He shrugged indifferently then lifted his injured arm, glancing to the older brother. "Dog bite. Needs bandages. Medicine. I brought her back. You pay me."

Being cuffed upside the head didn't seem to bother the old man in the slightest. "This may have been just another Tuesday for you, Crow, but it was the most important day in the girl's life. And the most important in yours, for today was the day you met Red Feather. Today was the day you were given the choice to become more than you are! Take it or leave it, today was that day!" He laughed as well, a sound that was significantly less... healthy... than Scare Crow's.

While Scare Crow and Red Feather conversed, Louis had pulled Cassie over to the side and seemed to be quietly rebuking her for running off. Obviously he'd been worried about her, she'd taken off while she was supposed to be under his care after all. He flashed Scare Crow a dirty look when he mentioned the possibility of different dogs killing her.

"That's not up to me," he replied to his request for some form of payment. "My dad's the one that knows medicine." He nudged Cassie in the back. "Go get washed up, I'll heat up dinner."

"Okay," she said dejectedly. She dragged her feet ahead of them to the house.

Louis gestured for the two men to follow him inside. "Guess I'll feed you too. Sorry we didn't get you anything before Red, mom didn't get to finish making anything with all this running around. Cassie can be such an idiot sometimes."

He led them into the two-storey house. Cassie had already rushed off somewhere upstairs. He took them into the kitchen/dining area and started heating up stew on a gas oven. The inside was simple but comfortable. There were plant specimens laid out on counters to dry and potted plants in every window. He indicated for them to sit down at the table.

"What were you doing outside with that fire, Red?" he asked curiously.

After a few minutes the stew was heated up. He served it up for the guests with some bread, flashing Scare Crow a funny look and clearly wondering why he'd yet to remove the mask, or how he'd eat with it on. The parents arrived back when Louis was sitting down to eat. He quickly brought them up to speed on what happened. Their mother, Etta, went upstairs to find Cassie and the father, Mike, started to get the things he needed for medical treatment in order.

"Sacred herbs," Red Feather grinned, shaking his herb pouch. "Sacred medicine. Chanting. Dancing. Heal the wound of the family, make offering to the spirits that they might deliver your girl home. And they did, using Crow as the instrument of their mercy." He leaned back in his chair. "Good herbs do wonders to unlock the pathways in the mind, make it easier to think the spirit way."

"If it works, it works," Louis shrugged. He smiled. "Pretty sure my dad would kill me if I got into any of those 'good herbs' though."

As if on cue, Mike entered the room with his medical supplies. He was a tall, heavy-set older man but most of the weight was clearly from working hard on the ranch for years. He had dark skin and was still in some muddy looking work clothes. He'd taken off as soon as they noticed Cassie was gone and hadn't gotten to change yet. He gave Scare Crow a lingering look but overall didn't look fazed by the strange duo at his kitchen table.

Louis adopted an innocent expression and took a bite of his stew. "Red, how long have you been able to talk to spirits? Could you see them as a kid or something?"

Meanwhile, Mike moved over to sit by Scare Crow, dragging a small end table along with him. He set his supplies out, including some clean, warm water and washcloth. "Thank God you happened along," he said. "Name's Mike. Don't think I can thank you enough. That was my delinquent daughter you picked up outside. Looks like that dog got a pretty good chunk out of you, didn't it."

He gestured for Scare Crow to show him his arm so he could begin treating him.

Scare Crow followed along to the house. He settled down in the seat. He kept himself close to the edge, both feet planted firmly on the ground, like he expected to have to jump up at any moment. When he heard mention of sacred herbs he snorted derisively.

"High on drugs." He nodded to himself. "Explains a lot."

He spoke in a low grumble. It was somewhat hard to make out the words. His head tilted to regard the stew placed in front of him. His hand moved up to his mask. He touched by the chin lightly, fingers twitching, but made no move to remove it. He could open it to eat but otherwise it was welded to him.

He turned his head when Mike entered. His boots shifted on the ground. He shrugged at mention of the dog. Dead now.

He growled when Mike moved to take his arm. His shoulders tensed. Scare Crow turned in the chair to clean the wound himself, grabbing the washcloth and roughly scrubbing away the caked on blood. He watched Mike the whole time. Once it was clean enough he silently offered out his arm for treatment he couldn't do himself.

With his other hand he reached under his chin and hit the mask's clasp. It mechanically glided apart up to his cheeks so he could eat. What little was visible of his face was incredibly pale. The coating of dust and dirt on his body usually hid that trait. Like the rest of his body it was nicked and scarred.

He kept his arm out for treatment but otherwise focused on the stew, seeming to ignore the pain and Mike while he ate.

"You know, I was going to offer to guide you, Crow, but you're too careless." Red Feather gestured with his fork. "You're dismissive of what you don't understand. If your willful ignorance is stronger than your heroic destiny, it'll get you killed. You and everyone around you. Ain't nobody need that mess."

Scare Crow shrugged. "Nobody," he agreed. His tone implied there was already nobody to involve with whatever mess Red predicted. Half his friends were still on the boat and likely dead. Or worse.

"Don't need guide. Where would you... Take me?" he asked. His voice was no longer modulated from the mask. It was still deep and growly, but there was a strained quality to it, like he didn't have enough breath. "Already know the roads. Good at travel. Know where I. Need to go."

Though he supposed it would have been useful to have someone come along that could talk to people. Scare Crow wasn't good at it. 'Stead guards didn't like when he poked around.

"Shaman tells you he was gonna be your guide and you think roads? That's what I'm talking about, Crow. You misinterpreted me because you can't see it when the world ain't what you expect."

His gaze swept the table. "Shaman guides you through the shadows of your heart, Crow. Through the dark night of the soul. Return you to the path that leads to your best self. Your highest nature."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Fri 07 Dec 2018.

"Don't have one of those," he said with a wheezy laugh. He coughed then inhaled deeply, trying to draw air into his lungs. "Must be others to guide. Old man."

He glanced up from his stew for the first time. "What do you get. From it? Get units? People pay you. To guide?"

"Purpose. A reason to live. A reason to wake up. I'm old, and life is suffering, so why else would I bother?" The shaman said. "As for the rest? When I pass a 'stead or through a hub I offer my services. Maybe I ask the spirits that your next harvest is good, maybe you feed me. People give what they can. So it has always been with wandering holy men. To feed them, clothe them is a holy act. But it is not an exchange of goods or services, simply generosity."

"On the road? I hunt, I gather, I scavenge. Like anyone else. For those I guide, for the time we are together, we are one tribe. We share."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:43, Fri 07 Dec 2018.

"Ah." Scare Crow could understand that at least. Practicality. "Trog warren was the same. Share food, shelter. Easier to survive together."

Still, they only shared among each other. They hadn't taken kindly to outsiders from what he remembered. But that was a long time ago.

"Prayed before, with old friends. Never for harvest. Victory in battle." His mouth curled into a grin at the recollection. He had always seen it as more an excuse for partying than observing any kind of proper service. "Ceremony was... Lots of drinking. Fight each other for fun. Offer blood. Good at fighting. You travel with me. I fight, protect you. Help get food. You talk." Scare Crow tapped a finger to his own temple. "And you are smart. Use brain. Think of plans. Help me find... big boat."

He extended an offer in his own roundabout way. He never had much luck finding people that would entertain the thought of travelling with him.

While Red Feather and Scare Crow conversed, Louis eavesdropped on the conversation with an enraptured expression and didn't try to be very subtle about it. They were both pretty odd characters, even as far as travellers that stopped on the ranch went. If only every dinnertime conversation could be so entertaining.

The father, Mike, was listening too as he tended to Scare Crow's wounds. Albeit he looked much less happy with the discussion at hand. The dog bite on the arm was quickly cleaned and dressed, and he gestured for Scare Crow to turn and let him see the bite by his neck.
Mike rolled 17 using 3d6 with rolls of 6,6,5. Healing
3 Successes
Heals 3L - After a long rest you'll be fully healed up.

"You guys are kind of weird," Louis commented. It didn't sound like he thought this was necessarily a bad thing. Mike shot him a look that said be quiet.

Shortly thereafter Cassie came bounding down the stairs in front of her mother. She smiled at Red Feather. "Is it good?" she asked about the stew. "I peeled the potatoes." Then she clambered up into the seat beside Scare Crow to watch the medical treatment, guiltily avoiding her father's eye.

For the most part, Scare Crow tried to ignore the man touching him. When indicated he should let him look at his collarbone, Scare Crow shook his head. "No. Done now."

He reached under his chin and relatched his mask so it closed over his mouth and cheeks entirely again. He took a few deep breaths of filtered oxygen. For some reason he couldn't breathe well on his own anymore. He didn't know what They had done to him, but he couldn't keep the mask open for long before he started getting light-headed.

He nodded to Cassie and tapped the table next to the bowl. Stew was good. Then he stood up, somewhat abruptly, and started toward the door. "Leaving now. Bye."

He didn't feel he owed any thanks. He'd brought the girl back and in turn had his injury treated and was given food. They were now even. He went outside to his bike, deciding he should get back to The Hub and find somewhere to sleep for the night. He didn't think the father particularly wanted him to stay. And there was still the matter of delivering the plants to the doctor and collecting payment. Might have to wait until the morning.

To - The Hub?

Mike looked surprised by Scare Crow's abrupt exit. He rose to his feet to show the ex-raider out, Cassie slinking out of her seat and scurrying ahead of him. She looked like she wanted to run out to the bike to say good-bye properly, but her father rest his hand on her head and stopped her in the doorway. He watched Scare Crow ready the bike and gave a wave.

"Well, bye then. If you're ever in the area and need anything, you're welcome to stop in," he offered- somewhat guardedly. He might just be extending the offer to be polite.

Cassie peeked out of the door too and waved excitedly. "Byeee!" she called out. Then she hopped up and down as something suddenly occurred to her. "Oh! Do a wheelie!"

We can use En route - the Hub thread next
Do a perception check once you're in
And we can do a Riding check just for fun if you want to do a sick wheelie