Blorr grunts.  "The salvage may help at that.  There is still a new space to find, but I am tired of wandering.  My next journey will carry me to my new home.  Or to my grave." Blorr pats the massive warhammer at her belt and falls to silence for the remaining hours homeward.  Mayhew's expedition arrives less than an hour before the sun sets.  They are greeted warmly but solemnly at the eastern gate.  No one is glad to count the missing.

"Life in Stirthal is brutal", began the shrouded man, his mask echoing sadness, "She lives, thanks to your medicine... but is now indebted to a Lord's son. It happened perhaps a year after you passed through... before I fled to the depths of the city"

re: Agatho, Artor, Derrick

The group that Agatho and Derrick came with has passed by and is making their way closer to the southern gate of the palisade.  You've heard some murmurs of concern, curious questions, and statements of relief as various voices drifted along.  Agatho's impromtu "flock" has finally reached beleaguered Canthus.  What difference will they make?

Allowing Agatho and Artor to finish their conversation, Derrick gently urges them along at the rear of the group. As he does, he watches the road behind for any trouble. With their current destination in sight, he is not willing to dawdle outside the walls.

"Well, I'm glad to be home. Let's get our salvage into storage and the gear stowed. I want to thank you all for your hard work on this trip. The price we paid was high, but if we don't find a new home, it will be higher," he says to the team. "Take pride in what we did. We found salvage that will help. We know more than we did. Sleep well tonight."

After the salvage and gear are stowed, he turns his attention to home. Tomorrow he will report the results of the trip, but for now he wants to see his father.

re: Mayhew

Sleep is not so easy to reach.  The returning explorers are met at the gate by Wilmark Aldrege, brooding in courtyard just inside the gate.  He greets each member of the expedition by name, briefly acknowledging Mayhew first and returning to speak to him further after directing the salvage to be taken to the Scouts Camp.  Men greet their returning wives.  Children mourn their fallen brothers.

"I knew you had not found success when your party was spotted, but naw flare lit the sky.  Thank you, thaw, for trying."  He needlessly smooths out his Regent's stole and shifts his weight onto his mechanical leg.  "Yours is the last of the safer paths to return.  Malach's didn't come back at all and there is naw trace to hint at their fate.  Fesnilla lost none of her band, but found aught except a few hawmsteads, leagues from each awther with awnly bare rock and sharp metal spines between them."  He turns northward and stares through the buildings and walls into empty space in the deepening dusk.  "We lost eight while you were gone.  Seven in the fields and one just outside the walls.  The magillin grawves on the west bank have been abandoned and mawst were already reduced to ashes.  It's either the Veil or the trek to the Clock of Kala, and many of us will not survive that trip, even if we suffer not a single raid along the way."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:56, Fri 21 June 2019.

re: Agatho, Artor, and Derrick

As the traveling assemblage approaches the gates, progress slows as migrants are briefly interrogated, either one at a time or in small family groups (only two families made this trip).  Skills are noted, weapons are inspected but not confiscated, cyphers are inventoried, housing is assigned, guard duty rosters are explained.  Most people talk about their plans to build a stronger aldea, earn glory in killing the denizens of the jungle, or speak of the joy they get in helping others. The biggest winnowing is the one looking for those willing to explore beyond the Shimmering Veil.

Of this last group, only three are included, the stragglers who were chatting as they met beyond the aldea's border.  Derrick, Agatho, and Artor are led to a small, unadorned building, a glorified shed with table and chairs, and told to wait for the regent.  Or the woman organizing the trip northward.  Whoever comes first.

Several minutes later, a small boy arrives with small cups of water and a few biscuits for the trio.  He scurries away before you can get any answers from him.

In reply to Immortal Eye (msg # 28):

Mayhew sighs sadly and nods. "I understand," he says softly. "In the morning I will begin gathering a group to take into the Veil. I will find a way to our new home."

He glances back at his companions of the last trip. His shoulders slump slightly. "They need to rest and cannot be asked to take on this next trip. I'm sorry, but even I need a night after that grind.

"For the trip into the Veil, I suggest a small team of specialists like myself. People with a range of skills and experience."

(Agatho, Artor, and Derrick)

The woman who arrives a minute or two after the boy leaves is dressed in orange, her tunic closed at the throat with the square-and-lobes icon of the Order of Truth and belted with a broad sash of some dark, synth-woven fabric. Her head bears a short fuzz of reddish hair but no other adornment. "I am sorry for the delay, saers. I intended to come as soon as I saw the flag raised for new arrivals, but there was pressing business arranging certain materials. I am called Hoa Sen, and stand before you as both tertiary of the Order of Truth and assistant to Regent Wilmark Aldrege. The understanding has been given to me that you are at least willing to entertain the idea of an expedition through the Shimmering Veil, and that you convinced your interviewers at the gate that you have skills to contribute, potentially, to such an undertaking. Is this correct?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:56, Fri 21 June 2019.

re: Mayhew

Aldrege nods.  "We are looking for volunteers.  Naw one from Canthus has yet stepped forward.  Yourself as an exception, of course."  He smiles at Mayhew.  "You do your father proud.  His condition has improved these past few weeks, at least some.  I imagine you are eager to see him."  He surveys the scene within the gate, groups of revelers or mourners moving deeper within the maze of cottages.  "Let us meet in the Scouts Camp at noontide tomorraw.  Haw-a has been organizing supplies for the trip and I may have a few surprises to add.  Perhaps the group at the south wall contains the few more brave sawls we need to reach success."

The older man nodded quietly as the woman introduced herself.

A part of his mind reflected with interest upon how the Sovereign One had directed them to this very person.

Another part of his mind reflected upon how best to respond to the introduction.  He was a natural spokesperson for himself and for Derrick, and Artor was a man of fewer words.  Should he take it upon himself to introduce them all?

Yet another part of his mind pondered when was best to share such news as he had with her...

He nodded again at her query.

"Well met, Hoa Sen.  I am Agatho of Hayrest, an unworthy servant of the Sovereign One.  This is Derrick, of my own flock family.  And this is Artor of the Underpipes, now sometimes called Graythane.  'Peace to you.'  "

"Before we proceed further, I bring tidings to you specifically, Hoe Sen."

"On our travels, Derrick and I came upon the remains of a group that had been attacked.  There were no survivors, and little remains."

He glanced at Derrick, and took a series of items from him, one by one, to pass to her.

"We did find one document that was a map to Canthus, a letter in smudged script addressed to 'Hoa Sen', and the following items: a walking staff, a red sash, a bit of numenera, and a medallion."

"I do not know if the messengers were known to you.  I am sorry to be the bearer of such tidings.  However, at least the message that they sought to bring you has now been delivered successfully."

The head of the walking staff was chopped off, but the shaft was a many-stranded braid of synth and metal, sturdy and still usable.

The violently red sash had largely survived intact and was oddly unstained by the blood spattered on it.

The bit of numenera was perhaps six centimeters long and a distinctive combination of rubbery pad and curved brass, trailing a bit of wire.

The medallion was of the Order of Truth, ceramic but scuffed almost to unrecognizability.

"I...see." Hoa Sen said, then lowered her head. "I expect we won't be joined by Master Ulhe...after all." Her voice, so rich a moment earlier, became brittle. Tears glistened in her eyes when she raised her head; she did not sob. "He and the others were going to come study the Veil, you see. And perhaps to install some— some installations— for Canthus' defense." She drew a breath. "The sash is Tannin's. Was. I do not regret that I saw him fight only once. Whatever attacked them must have been— Must have been formidable. And thorough. Ulhe's little automaton would have tried to scramble off if there was trouble." The arkus pinches the bridge of her nose. "Thank you for bringing these tidings, sad though they be."

She again lowers her head, then half-sings:

"All glory to the originators of truth and understanding.
Praise to the innovators of synth and steel.
Praise to the shapers of flesh, of bone, and of mind.
Glory to those who resculpted the sustaining earth and the life-giving sun.
Praise to the senders of signals, who even now whisper into machine ears and give life to the inanimate.
Praise to those who traveled to the stars, and the realms beyond the stars.
All glory to the originators of truth and understanding."

Then, as if opening it will make everything real, Hoa Sen opens the letter.

Her grief flooded the older man's empathic senses, and he quietly met her teary gaze with one of his own.  It was obviously more than mere sympathy.  He... empathized.  He felt her pain.

After being thanked, he gently inclined his head in acknowledgement, and waited quietly while she read...

Derrick perked up when Hoa introduced herself, but glanced to Agatho before saying anything. He was pleased he did, for Agatho at once broached the subject of the party they had found. He nodded at the mention of his own name, but said nothing else until Agatho had related the tale such as it was. Derrick passed over the items they had collected to Agatho at the man's glance. He kept a respectful silence as Hoa explained a little about what they had found and sung her lamenting hymn. Internally, he was unsure what to make of the representative of the Order of Truth and her song.

The letter is actually three pages in three different hands. In different circumstances, the pages would be completely mundane.

One sheet is a formal greeting written in an exacting hand, affixed with a crystalline seal. It is a diplomatic opening from the Amber Papacy to the leaders of Canthus, with offers of additional aid if Canthus will host a clave aligned with the Amber Pope, either in their current location or the one they emigrate to.

The second note is written in violet ink, scratched in quick, precise letters.  It contains a list of the group members who traveled with Master Ulhe.  Those unfamiliar to Hoa had their various ranks and trainings and specialties listed as well, so Hoa could quickly find the best use for them in the community.

The last letter is written in a flowing script that Hoa immediately recognizes.  Master Tharit has sent his warm greetings and best wishes for her continued success.  He states his great pride in Hoa's accomplishments and his hopes that she is able to serve well, for the benefit of the people of Canthus.  He includes updates on his flowers, a data sphere he was researching, and Appodec, his beloved seskii who recently passed away.

They are such simple things, really, even the letter from Master Tharit. It remains the only thing she can ever hope to reply to. Technically, the letter from the Durkhal should be passed on to Wilmark Alredge, but she cannot imagine Canthus sparing anybody to attempt the journey back to the Steadfast with a response. Something to file away with hope for the future.

The tertiary reads quickly, then carefully refolds the letter and tucks it away into a fold of her tunic. Her cheeks remain wet, but she has managed to at least put up a facade of professionalism.

"Thank you, again, for bringing this. There are no answers here, but there are no easy roads in this world, and it is fortunate that even these fragments reached me here." Her smile is a mask, a clever performance. "And if you are willing, you will soon be traveling again. The situation in Canthus grows desperate. Several expeditions have set out to find a suitable place for the aldeia to resettle. Few have returned, and none with good news. Our only remaining hope is the Shimmering Veil itself, and that expedition will depart within the next few days. There are abhumans in the fields, and strange creatures haunting the roads. Remaining here, even with valiant defenders, the people of Canthus can count their future in months, nothing more."

The older man regarded her quietly, gently piercing the façade with an empathic understanding of her struggles and challenges.

"It was a privilege to serve... and it will be a privilege to serve again.  The need is great, and I am willing."

"I have some humble skills as a Nano, and as an Empath, and as a Healer."

"May the Sovereign One grant us success."

With previous introductions completed, now was not the time to presume to speak for his companions, so he paused to let them speak for themselves...

"I will chance the Veil", Artor confirmed, speaking into the gap. His voice was firm and unmuffled, despite the cloak and the mask, and he straightened as he spoke, his height and the breadth of his shoulders apparent. He had not chanced upon the same things on the road, seemed unmoved by them or their effect on the lady who spoke to them

"I find things", he offered, by way of explanation, "Things hidden in dark places"

It did not take an empath to pierce Hoa's mask, but Derrick had looked away to allow her to compose herself and only returned his gaze as she spoke of the task that lay ahead. He nodded in agreement with his companion and fingered the mace at his belt. "I go where Agatho goes and we came here to help you resettle. I will do my best to protect the expedition."

At this point, the boy who brought in the water and food earlier rushes back into shed, so breathless he can hardly speak.

"Lady Sen ... there's ... trouble ... Scouts Camp ... screaming."

He falls to his knees, even as he waves his arm northward.

re: Mayhew

As you are taking your leave of the Regent, shouts come from the north side of the aldea.  A woman runs up to you and Aldrege and says that someone in the Scouts Camp is shouting for Mayhew and for a healer.  The voice sounds like one of the Lattimor.

As the boy uttered his message, Derrick jumped to his feet and rushed out of the shed. It took him a moment to orient himself in the direction the boy waved, before he charges off towards the disturbance. As he ran, he drew the shield from his back and strapped it to his arm. Unsure what he would find when he arrived, he kept his hands free rather than immediately drawing his weapon.

Hoa Sen, already standing, was out the door in a few quick strides. The smoothness of her movement made it clear that she was not only a bureaucrat.

"This way!"

-->Radwa's Creation/Scout Camp
This message was last edited by the player at 16:50, Sun 23 June 2019.

The older man immediately followed, silently praying as he ran...

In the city he called home, such a ruckus would have been meet by sneers and laughter - or some kind of negotiation, exploitation and confrontation. Beyond the Steadfast, folk were truer to one another and when their potential employer leapt into the fray herself, Artor finally moved.

But when he moved, his fleetness became apparent. His quick strides quickly had him making pace with Derrick, his spear tip held out and low to one side so as not to impede either balance or passersby