21 Descending Air, 768

The last weeks of winter.

Luna shyly turns her face from Creation but even a half moon's light gives the Fasil Swamp a beautiful fairy tale quality. Snow drapes the low ground and icicle's hang from the arms of naked ash trees, shining in the silver radiance. The trees themselves were huge with vast spreading limbs, typical of the vitality of life this far to the East, close to the Pole of Wood. The low murmur of the lazily drifting waters can be heard from the myriad streams wending their way through the trees. The sounds of night animals chirp and growl out of the thick stands of ash and maple trees. Occasionally they fall silent as river ice snaps and cracks before resuming their concealed activities. A cold wind caresses skin but it lacks the bite of mid-winter. A hint of spring to come.

Two mosphids _{(a hawk sized archaeooteryx that hunts at night)} in their thick winter plumage, land upon a low hump of snowy ground barely rising above the ice shrouded waters surrounding it. Their feathers are white and dun but bear unusual silver swirls and lines. The two avians chirp at each other before a flash of silver envelops both, replacing them with a man and a woman. They rise from their crouched positions and look about the deep swamp until their eyes catch a glimmer of firelight through the trees. Their destination was a village of the Fasili Clans, swamp men wily in the ways of their lands. This particular village belonged to the Blue Limb Band, long known to the woman.

[Seeks and Willow were contacted through Willow's network among the savages about a shaman's vision. The Shaman, named Fulgar, is unknown to Willow but is cautioned that he was in some state of disgrace with his band. The messenger refused to say more, perhaps out of fear of a spirit's curse. In any case the shaman had been adamant that Willow come as it concerned hers and Seeks interests. tomb robbing and artifacts.

Feel free to roleplay as you like in this section.]

Seeks What Is Forgotten was rarely an impressive sight, and even under the silver glimmer of his second patron's watchful light, that night proved no exception.  Rising from his crouch, he quickly pulled his wide hood up and over his face to obscure his withered features.  It was not that he was a vain creature, which was a boon considering his choice of companions.  Even if his flesh had not been warped and twisted by fell magics, he would not even have been a dim star next to the blazing aura of Slender Willow Swaying's perfection of form.  He simply was aware the effect his hallowed out visage had on most people, and thus typically chose to keep it to himself.  It was a strange thing that he had not consumed the Heart's Blood of the people's of the Eastern Forests, as it would have made hiding in plain sight so much simpler, but thus far such things had not been his way.  He had been content for the last two decades to drink the Heart's Blood of the many beasts and creatures of the East, wearing such forms as the Mosphid's that he had just discarded, and otherwise relied on long cloaks and dark nights to obscure his less than savory features.

He was a small man, especially compared to the people of that region, made no larger by the tattered black robe he had wrapped himself in that night.  His usual assortment of beads and bangles clattered every time he moved, a gentle addition to the background noises of the forest.  Minor charms and sorceries, they were written in the languages of a dozen different Eastern Tribes.  They were a collection of trinkets, gifts, and offerings gathered over his travels up and down the Eastern Frontier.  More prayer beads were wrapped around his hands and wrists, but these he tucked into the voluminous depths of his robes and hid from sight.  A thick sleeping mat was bundled up at his back, though his companion had traveled with him long enough to know what it actually contained.

"It has been so long since I have walked these paths I can hardly remember..."

He rasped, his voice a rough wheeze more akin to that of a man who had just been choked within an inch of his life.  Though the words were likely a humble lie, he had a mind more akin to an iron vault than a leaky sieve.

"... eighteen years, I think?"

He added, though he likely knew to the day.

"I do not even recall stopping at this village, the Blue Limb Band controls these forests, you said?  That I have heard before, but I know not if that is because of my previous travels through their lands of if it is only you who has spoken it."

He let out a tiny wheeze of a laugh, taking a moment to gather his composure.

"I will be your shadow in this, as in all things, Slender Willow Swaying. These are your people, are they not?

Slender Willow Swaying was a creature of extraordinary poise and beauty but this was not the whole of the truth if one wanted to look beneath the surface. She was, in kind, a creature that seemed burdened with an anger and hatred that was not wholly her own; something that had seemed to fester for far longer than the years that showed in the youthful smoothness of her face. Old memories lingered in the wellspring of her soul and with them old aches, old wounds, old pains churned and twisted in her dreams amidst the visions of ancient wonders and lost marvels. All this boiled and churned beneath the surface and seemed to bleed into the almost melancholic glare that was cast towards the village in a moment where the mask of wicked grins and demonic glee slipped and the woman beneath showed more of her hand than she might have cared to.

It passed in an instant though as she drew a soft breath and felt the fading chill on the air wash over her palette. That wicked smile, so sweet yet promising little but torment returning as she spared a glance to her withered companion who stood bundled and robed as if this were the most desperate of northern winters. It was difficult to articulate the claim of ownership that any of the tribes of this land exercised... The borders weren't formalized or established in the ways that southerners might understand. Fluid and shifting as the numbers of one tribe surged and another waned with the whim of gods starving for the scraps of a table they'd never sit at. Or that was her bitter assessment anyway as she dug at the snow beneath her cloven hoof and rested hands gently on her hips with ever hint of that near perfect economy of motion.

"Most don't bother unless they've a need for one thing or another, honestly. I just lead people here and speak the words that keep the peace... If it suits me anyway... but they aren't my people even if my blood flows here. They made that clear enough." Slender Willow Swaying responded with an easy and candid air that drew the mind in and threatened to ensnare it with the promise of a story. Her presence undeniable and almost inescapable if not for the blessings of the Mother that had been laid upon them both. Different stories and paths brought to a head in search of shared desire for secrets of a buried and and better age. Or so was her recollections through the lens of one who had lived and died in the tragedy of it's end.

"Either way, I know my way around their customs and traditions. Just make sure to hide all that's 'wrong' with you. Difference is the mark of the Outsider and while Blue Limb welcomes it more than our cousins and brothers elsewhere... It's only with an open hand in the expectation of jade and coin." she added with a cruel twist to her soft and pleasing voice as she moved forward with light steps. The lingering snow crunching beneath each step and leaving a cloven print quite unlike what one might expect. Laughter following not long after her words fell to silence at some memory or perhaps merely the irony of the condemnation in her words for behavior not so different from their own.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Mon 29 June 2020.

Seeks and Willow walk toward the village fires while chatting among themselves. They soon find themselves on a trail with crude split log bridges crossing smaller water holes. The surrounding brush thins considerably. No doubt due to incessant clearing for winter firewood and to maintain clear sight lines about the village palisades. A nearby stream has a number of canoes drawn up upon the banks.

The village itself lurks among a stand of great maple trees. Wooden palisades run from one broad tree bole to another, forming a defensive perimeter. Great painted faces with awful features adorn the palisade wall, a means to scare away evil spirits or Wyld cursed creatures. Many of the trees about the village are marked with blue rags tied to tree limbs or decorated with dangling totems dedicated to various gods of the swamps, the hunt, and so on.

The palisade gates are closed for the night as is customary but a watchfire blazes along the top and the silhouette of a brave peers down at the newcomers. He jabbers  in the hard Fasili dialect,"Gates are closed, strangers! Come back in the morning!"

Most barbarians will refuse entry in the middle of the night to travelers and the gate watchmen raises his spear to emphasize his point.

Slender Willow Swaying had to stop herself from laughing at the guard's challenge and the threats that lay behind it. That wicked smile shifting in tone from one of unrelenting mischief and mockery to one of charming warmth as she continued forward, stopping just out of reach of the tribal's spear with hands out to her sides. Her festive shawls and scarfs spreading wide as a result and seeming almost like the wings of one form or another as she met the challenge with one of her own. Her voice steady and teasing as it picked at those fears that lingered behind the traditions of the night watch and the weight of the summons from one within the protective circle of the palisades... well within the warmth of the fire and safe from the depredations of night gods and dark spirits.

"Stranger, really? I'm afraid it's rather urgent tonight, my friend, as the Shaman has asked for this traveller and I to pay a visit after the gods paid him visit though his visions. If you like you can have your brothers walk with us to his hut but I'd not want to keep Fulgar waiting too long. The tempers and protections of the Shaman've always been at the whim of god and spirit." the Changing Moon replied in the same, hard tongue as the guard with an easy air. All the while she kept her arms spread and took care to hide the tracks she left in the soft snow with inelegant dragging of her cloven feet. There was an expertise born of intimate knowledge backing each word and gesture to tug with an almost distressing ease at the fragile weave of social order among 'savages.'
This message was last edited by the player at 00:47, Wed 01 July 2020.

Seeks had been about to suggest that he take a less unsettling form, as in his travels he had consumed the Heart's Blood of many small and even endearing animals.  Yet the challenge of the tribe's warrior settled the debate before it had even begun.  He had been spotted, and there was nothing for it but to settle into his hood and keep his head down.  He was used to being turned away, and such an unwelcome greeting had never in the past stopped him from achieving his ends.  If Slender Willow Swaying's clout with the Blue Limb Band was not enough to get him through the gate unmolested, he could always disappear into the forest and then double back in stolen flesh.

Or maybe his companion would just eat the warrior for his insolence and wear his flesh.  He was still unsure of her drive and temperament, having had very little contact with other Lunars to compare her too.  He did not truly know if she was representative of the rest of Luna's Chosen, but he was pretty sure that she was more in line with what their patron had in mind than when she had ignited the divine within him.  Or perhaps Mara's whispers had just changed him over all those many decades of solitude?

He didn't know, yet perhaps in acting as Slender Willow Swaying's shadow he would learn.

The watchman's attitude changes as the shaman Fulgar is mentioned. There are some shouts behind the gate and the sound of the gate being unbarred. The crude wooden gate swings open and the watchman beckons.

"The shaman is waiting. Follow me." The man's face is stoic and watchful but there seems a slight air of distaste as he speaks of Fulgar.

He leads the Lunars through the quiet village. Small houses rise on stilts to protect them from the spring floods. Other than a few watchfires the buildings are dark. Rough planks forming a walkway crossing the frozen mud of the village floor. Unlike in past years there are signs of foreign craft, metal items traded from the city of Azrego, better made fabrics, and other utensils a barbarian might find useful or attractive.

Soon they arrive at a larger building build upon and around the roots of one of the large maple trees. Rows of totem poles surround the building, ugly wrathful faces, animals, and others adorning them. A few are recognizable as either local Terrestrial gods or more popular gods of Celestial stature. The shrines between them have a sort of sad neglected air to them. Only one, for Thumvira of the Wheel, a god of trade and a patron of the local Guild, seems well attended too. A sure indication that the village has fallen under the influence of the Guild in some fashion.

At the door the watchman rattles a wooden chime, calling out,"Shaman! Your guests are here..."

Almost immediately the door swings open and an old man peers blearily out into the night at the newcomers. Apparently woken from sleep he is wrapped in a fur blanket against the cold. In a raspy voice he speaks."Ahh! Slender Willow Swaying! You came! The spirits will look well upon you for attending to their servant in such a timely fashion!"

He peers at Seeks What is Forgotten speculatively before stepping aside with a sweep of his arm,"Come, sit around the fire. I'll wake my servant to see that you get a hot meal." 

The interior is richly appointed in 'civilized' fabrics and colorful gewgaws. A sleepy woman scuttles over to hanging pots and deftly begins preparations for the Shaman's guests. Fulgar settles down upon a pile of richly decorated pillows, gesturing to similar piles around the fire. The interior is hot and a bit smoky.

He grins conspiratorially as he pulls a box from behind him. "Perhaps my guests would be interested in some brightleaf? Excellent stuff! It comes from some western plantations the Guild runs."

But will the spirits look so kindly on the fact they are no longer favored by that same servant in the end? the Changing Face mused to herself with a glimmer of that wicked smile at the edges of her lips and a glitter of dawning mischief as she bit back the bile that rose so naturally to the tip of her tongue. Her blue eyes drifting over the shrines that had fell into disrepair and the lavish attentions that were paid at the feet of Thumvira of the Wheel. The soul festered here in favor of the coin. She had to wonder how long before they forgot the ways of the ancestors in favor of the modernity offered by the wealth and promises of the guild.

"Of course, Shaman. I've not forgotten the ways of our ancestors or the impatience of Spirits and Gods." she offered sincerely though only Seeks What is Forgotten might have caught the coyness that lingered beneath her otherwise pleasant tones or the subtle perceptions of a razor's edge in those same undercurrents. She might sway and bend so brilliantly and gracefully beneath adversity and suffering but that did not mean she was not a monster possessed of a most wicked laugh and wit all her own. The old wounds, the old insecurities burning and itching beneath that facade of nearly perfection.

The invitation met with the proscribed acceptance as she moved past with soft clicks of what seemed like perfectly tempered glass and the finest shoes a lady might find. The razor obsidian of her hooves leaving the faintest marks in the wood with each step despite all her care and seeming to speak to one of the many dark facets of her own soul and mind. She settled herself then with legs folded neatly beneath her so that her skirts still hid the deformity of her lower extremities amid the plush pillows and cushions. The fabric and softness of them speaking to a worldliness that turned her stomach to see in the appetites of a shaman. The offer of brightleaf earning a wicked little turn of the smile that was far truer to Slender Willow Swaying. It was just enough to be glimpsed by Fulgar and know that he was in the company of a predator and not some pretty face that was clueless to the threats and hazards of the wilderness. That light passing from smile to her eyes which could never have been said to be placid like the great lakes or oceans. Always a hint of anger, a hint of hurt, a hint of melancholy spiraling like a storm yet never detracting from that uncanny focus.

There was something magnetic in that which could not be denied and it was in full evidence here as it threatened to push the Shaman off balance and expose his truest intentions to the woman that now sat before him. The coal in her breast smoldering with a palpable heat all it's own in that instant.

"I'll have to decline that particular offer, Shaman. I've gotten lost enough in my own soul without it's help." she replied with the air of cheerful jest as she danced around the truth of her own nature and experiences. Those blue eyes watching him now with quiet consideration of what came next. The rules of the game familiar and alien at the same time through the lens of fractured recollection, boiling anger, and wounds new and ancient that never seemed soothed so long as the roots of her past remained buried and hidden.

"I'm curious as to just what you've seen through your bond with spirit and god, Fulgar."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:52, Sat 04 July 2020.

Seeks What is Forgotten kept his head down and his hood drawn as they moved through the village, minimizing the impact his presence might otherwise have.  He was Slender Willow Swaying's guest, after all.  While he did not fully understand the other Lunar, he had seen more than enough to treat her with her due.  She was a flickering flame, and though their interests were closely aligned, he always acted with care about her.  Particularly among these whom she had suggested might hold some significance to her.  He did not yet know what might cause her to burn sever bright with Luna's madness, but he was pretty sure that he did not wish to stumble upon it by accident.  He could probably get away, if such a calamity occurred, but not without price.

Still, that decorum did not stop his eyes from devouring everything that there was to be seen as they entered the village, from the distaste the guard carried when he spoke of Fulgar.  He raised his hood for just an instant, his head turned carefully so that his hood still hid his face from the torch light.  In that instant, his grey eyes turned liquid silver, filling with mischief and understanding as they caught the man.  Did he perhaps reveal more than he had intended?  He didn't know.  Hurriedly, he ducked his head and set off after his companion.

When they got to the shaman's home, he had already forgotten his encounter with the watchman, and was instead intent on studying the totem poles that surrounded the place.  He'd had mixed dealings with the Guild, but none so drastic that any should know his name or face.  Still, he was here to be Slender Willow Swaying's shadow, and so he kept to his task.

Fulgar did not ask his name, so Seeks What Is Forgotten did not share it.  Sitting down without comment beside and slightly behind his fellow, and allowing her to occupy the Shaman's attention as he tried to piece together what he had read in the watchman's eyes.

Fulgar shrugs indifferently and inhales the smoke of the burning herb. He leans back and enjoys the sensation for a long moment before refocusing on Willow and Seeks.

"I saw a chance for both of us to make some profit, Slender Willow Swaying. As you no doubt can guess it will require your particular skill set to investigate." Fulgar blows a smoke ring toward the shadowed rafters, "I've had a vision of a time and place where we can make this happen."

Fulgar's face turns firm as he adds,"But I need to know you are in before I can tell you more, both of you if your partner here is agreeable. This information is potentially too valuable to trust to just anybody."

Slender Willow Swaying shifted and rested back as she let her eyes drift upwards for an instant to follow the path of the blown smoke ring. Her head tilting to the side as she returned her attention fully to Fulgar with a wicked edge to that smile that only ever seemed to promise mischief, her hands working to smooth the flow of her skirts once more to hide the signs of her mutation with an almost demure air of ritual despite her self and ways. She had embraced the monster that she might be but it seemed the ways of the woman weren't wholly forgotten in the midst of the protean whirlwind of faces and people that she could become. All the while, the soft crackle of the fire seeming to dance and match to the tune of the coal and cinders that smoldered within her breast. That hint of the predator within coming to the fore as she leaned just a little forward and wafted some of the smoke towards her in consideration.

"It's not what I was expecting but I'm certainly curious enough to play the game you're asking me to, Shaman. What secrets have the gods chosen to share with you through sacred smoke of the mountain root?" the handsome woman asked with the clear assumption that her companion's acceptance of the terms was not far behind her own. Her voice edged with anticipation that one had to wonder if it was earnest or a part of the mask as she danced and twisted in her way about the conversation. Her shadow all the while twisting and dancing just out of notice to the crackle of the flame. A glimpse here and there of endless legs and coiling segments seeming to enshroud and consume the wavering silhouette of the woman only for that silhouette to assert itself an instant later as if only a playful trick of an addled mind.

Crouched inward upon himself, Seeks What Is Forgotten let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry and rattling.  He tilted his head up slightly, just enough that some of the stretched parchment that was the flesh of his chin caught the light of the fire from beneath his hood.

"Learning such secrets is always a matter of compromise, my friend.  Luckily for us, in this case the compromise is just a little bit of guest right and a pipe full of Brightleaf.  You'll find me agreeable to the herb and your secrets both, Fulgar."

With a clatter of beads and bone, he reached out a skeletally thin hand to accept the Shaman's medicine.  If he was gifted it, he seemed to retreat into himself, burrowing down as he drew a long breath of the potent herb.  A cloud of pungent smoke eventually emerged from his hunched form, dissipating about him and sending the long shadows at his back to dancing.  He sat up to hand the medicine bowl back, not bothering to look up as he did so.

"Ah... that's nice."

He wheezed, letting the sensation roll over him in a pleasant wave.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Thu 16 July 2020.

Fulgar appears pleased by Seeks What is Forgotten's acceptance of Fasili hospitality, "Yes. Its a particularly fine leaf pleasing to Burning Feather, Lady of Intoxicants. Her blessings help take the edge off of a hard life."

The shaman may of started at Seeks' mortified features before they disappear into his hood but doesn't let it bother him. Shamans are used sacrificing for the spirits' favor in many gruesome ways.

Eyes are sharp as he stares intently at the guides before him before nodding to himself, "So it shall be."

[04:49, Today: Silver Bhoddisatva botched using 5d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7.  Read Intentions.]

Fulgar reaches into his pouch and casts a sparkling dust into the firepit. It flashes to a glowing blue smoke where a semblance of eyes looks down at the shaman and the guides. Fulgar intones in a sing-song voice a ritual,"Spirits most high! We beseech you to consecrate the bargain we strike here! Thumvira of the Roads! Curse those who break faith!

We beseech you to consecrate the secrets kept here! Marthesine of the Lost! Curse those who speak words meant to remain unsaid!"

With that Fulgar speaks a garbled phrase that may be a half-remembered sentence in the language of spirits. The smoke glows, the eyes blink, and a sense that something important happened passes over Fulgar's audience. The smoke dissipates in a gust of wind and the fire dies down to coals. Fulgar peers at his audience across the damped fire, his features ruddy and shadowed in the light from the coals.

"Now that the formalities are out of the way we can talk freely."

"Over the last month I've been receiving visions from one of my patrons. At first it was vague but it became clear enough with repeated visions. There are great mountains, old and scarred from a battle between gods and heroes. Ruins litter the mountain sides but above them all stands a mountain carved into the likeness of a serpentine monster, its coils forming the ridges. Its sides are lined with great limbs, its hide marked with sigils from a forgotten language. Its head faces toward the East but its face is scarred and broken as if vandalized by giants. Following its gaze takes us to another mountainside, thick with snow and forests. There lies a broken palace of ancient giants or heroes half covered in stone from a landside. Perhaps the same beings that fought the monster of old. The palace bears the mark of a stag's antlers with a crescent moon between. Inside lies what I am charged to recover. Here I speed through halls full of wonders and curses I do not understand. The place stinks of old betrayals and murders."

"At last I come to...a temple? A tomb? Some chamber. I do not know its purpose. But upon a great table of white stone lies a box. It opens and inside is revealed a delicate mask of blue porcelain like the Guildsmen trade, featureless but for a fine white mist that seems to surround it." 

He halts, remembering, before shrugging,"The mask is yours if you can reach it. An artifact is worth a small fortune to the right buyers. What I want is the small box contained within the stone table inside a drawer. It is of plain polished oak wood and bound in greened bronze. it must remain unopened, intact as you found it, and delivered to me."

"There is doubless other treasures to plunder in the ruins. Its all yours if you are brave enough to take them. I want only the box."

Seeks What Is Forgotten leaned forward, a bone dry rattle emerging from beneath the hood that eventually solidified itself as a laugh.  Was it just the imagination, or did the shadows from the flickering flames of the fire seem to pull away from him?  Perhaps it was merely that he was rail thin, yet even his own shadow seemed a painfully stretched  thing.  As if someone had peel its very substance from itself and drawn it backwards and away from him.  Yet he was a creature of the shadows, was he not?  Far more at home among them than the bright light of day.  Even they, it seemed, withdrew away from him as if they knew the truth of what a plague ridden thing he had become.

"Oh, I do like this one, Slender Willow Swaying.  I have a liking for his Patrons even more.  Such a pretty little trap they have set, with such a sweet prize.  He has to know though..."

He shifted, and turned his full attention to the shaman.

"...that there are some things that are easy to give away, and some that are not.  Who we are and what we are, those are complicated things.  Tomb robbing was never a pastime of mine, I just liked to look.  To be a part of something grander than myself, if it were.  And then suddenly I was, and it was all consuming, ever burning, utterly devouring thing."

He leaned forward, the scent of ash filling the air that had nothing to do with the Brightleaf.

"And so I simply must know, I simply must know what is it is your Patrons intend for you to do with such a prize.  I will have the answer, she knows."

He turned briefly to capture Slender Willow Swaying in his cowled gaze.

"The whispers of the world will tell me that which I seek."

And they would.  Slender Willow Swaying had traveled with her fellow Lunar long enough to know that the shadows themselves whispered their secrets to him when he called them, lashed to his will by ritual and magic.

"One way or another, I will have my answer.  One way or another, I must have my answer, for there is a part of me that simply cannot let this go.  It is not my intention to be rude, and I am only to happy to fulfill the task sent to you by your Patrons, but in this I cannot fight the path set before me."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:17, Tue 21 July 2020.

It was not often that Slender Willow Swaying laid a hand upon Seeks What Is Forgotten and so when it happened, the occasion was momentous and usually dire. She was not a strong woman but there was an implied quality of something lethal in her touch. He had witnessed her, after all, in the past berate and destroy bandits, soldiers, and more emotionally and physically in their more troubled journeys... This seemed just shy of that mark as her delicate, near perfect hand rested upon his shoulder and squeezed ever so slightly. The smile wicked as she glanced side long and a hint of venom in her tone as she spoke.

"Now, now, my friend, there's no need for that. Let's not forget either that his patrons are the Gods... and we're bound up now by our word. Plus, think about it, the Shaman is a servant of the Gods... When have the Gods ever spoken of their purpose until they've all that they've desired of their servant? Play nice and let honey draw in what you want of the world." Slender Willow Swaying said with a sweetness to her words as she relaxed her grip and arched a brow towards her fellow lunar. There was an almost bestial posturing in it that had every air of elegance and grace with a most upsetting undertone of amusement. She wasn't going to be drowned beneath the wrath of gods and squander the gifts given to her because one couldn't respect the the terms and natures of an oath sworn in the witness of Terrestrial Gods.

Her hand fell away soon after to rest once more in her lap as she turned her attention sidelong back towards Fulgar with a smile that seemed apologetic for but a fleeting instance before that wicked promise of mischief returned. She knew her business and had something of a reputation to defend. As sharp tongued and ruinous as she might be in the throws of her anger... It was her anger, her hate, and not she the possession of it. Her mind lingered now though on the ruins... The haze of old memories turning sluggishly as fragments of old lives turned and twisted like shattered glass in the mazes of the soul.

"Did the visions give anything more of these ruins? Were there fires? Signs of people or souls still there?" Slender Willow Swaying asked with a voice that seemed to burn with an innate curiosity and something almost like hope despite her taunting, wicked reserve.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:09, Tue 21 July 2020.

A blindman couldn't miss Seeks What is Forgotten's broad hints that he and his companion were something more. Fulgar's eyes darken with speculative caution. The wavering shadows that didn't obey the flickering firelight, the man's arrogant manner...a sorcerer would be Fulgar's first guess. His face remains impassive as Slender Willow Swaying throws oils on troubled waters as her companion treads perilously close to a breach of their god-sealed bargain.

He shrugs at Willow's questions, "I've revealed the vision in full. You now know as much as I do. But it is said that in the lands of the Twilighters you can glimpse a statue carved into the side of a mountain. Somewhere in the southern Creeper Peaks, perhaps."

Seeks What Is Forgotten sunk deeper into his cowl, for all the world like a petulant child sulking.

"Come now, give me some credit.  I've been about the world longer than that.  Neither Thumvira nor Marthesine would take offense to what I do in shadow."

He raised a bony hand in an apologetic gesture.

"Still, I let my curiosity get the best of me.  Fair enough.  Call it a character flaw, if you wish.  It's certainly gotten me into trouble more than once.  I'll even admit ignorance of what happens next wasn't something I'd considered, though it's clear now I should have."

He lowered his hands before him in a humble bow.

"Forgive me my exuberance, Fulgar.  I meant no offense."

Slender Willow Swaying allowed that wicked smile to soften just a fraction as she spared a glance towards her companion before returning her attention fully to the Shaman. There was a twist of cruel disappointment but such ruins might give insight by proxy into what she sought. The churning of old memories, old wounds, and older deaths all demanded she find this place and in so doing find a measure's peace for past lives and things undone. Her expression shifting as she ruminated upon those hazy after images of the past incarnations of her soul towards almost melancholic contemplation, those sharp blue eyes gazing into the fire for an instant before she ultimately shrugged.

"If there's nothing else then, we'll be on our way with your leave, Shaman?" the handsome woman offered with something like her prior tone and wicked smile though that preoccupation lingered as she shifted upon the blankets and pillows. Some aspect of her nature having felt it was still too long and eager to be on the hunt. Her shadow all the while seeming to skitter and dart with the flickering of the fire.

Fulgar nods at Seek's apology, glad to move on from sorcerous threats. "It is already forgotten."

He gestures toward the bag of herbs lying not far from Seeks,"Please, take the bag. A gift and hopeful sign for a successful endeavor!"

"I can offer you no more aid than what I've told you. The hour grows late. You may stay here for the night as my guests, if you wish. Otherwise our discussion has reached its natural conclusion. I am turning in for the night."

He rises with a last nod to his guests before exiting through a beaded curtain. The woman remains impassively in a corner, waiting upon the Lunars desire, furs and blankets ready for bedding nearby.

Outside the winds can be heard knocking bone spirit chimes about with glee in the late hours of the night.

Seeks What Is Forgotten waited just long enough for the curtail to fall into place, and then dove for the bag.  What was eerie was that clattering of beads and trinkets that normally accompanied his slightest movement was entirely absent, the rather frantic burst of movement drawing little more than a whisper.  If the bag was a trap, he fell into it face first, evidently having learned little from the harrowing experiences of his past.

"Do we need to accept their hospitality and stay, or can we depart at once?"

He croaked as he undid the leather of the thongs that bound it, opening it up on the floor so that Slender Willow Swaying could see what was inside.

"If even a word of what Fulgar just said turns out to have any meat on it, I must say that this sort of venture is exactly the sort of mess I was hoping to get into when I fell into your orbit.  Well done, well done."

The Brightleaf had hit him well and fully by that point, and he was indulging in the giddiness it had brought forth.  His cracked and dry voice had taken on an odd lilt, though it was too far ravaged by whatever wasting plague appeared to have taken him to be called mirthful.

"What do you get out of this?  Are these your people?"

He was often blunt with her, when they were alone, his inquisitiveness equal parts useful and irritating.  He was a weapon, in his own strange way.  If she had a secret that needed sniffing out, she could set him upon it, and come Creation or Damnation he would see it through till the end.

"I'm not dragging you into the woods or the mountains with a head full of sweet grass, Seeks." Slender Willow Swaying replied with a shrug of shoulders and long glance towards the serving woman in the corner. Her smile had waned like the sun and no longer bore those wicked airs, that most singular expression replaced with airs of quiet and melancholic contemplation as memories swirled and churned within her three part soul; Hun, Po, and the blessed exaltation of Mother Luna. Each glimpses of old places and ancient glory tinged by the onset of terrible rot, strife, and a fall into that darkness that now surrounded them. A burning loneliness carving through her as she listened only in passing to the ramblings of her addled companion and his final question.

The fog of her own inhalation by proxy to sample the scent settling on the back of her throat and mind as she cast blue eyes towards the fire. Her mind dragged towards a bitter and empowered present at what there was in all of this for her... Of what purpose there was to the course... such contemplation tearing a dark chuckle from her as the mask of the monster rose up once more though never seemed to break the thoughtfulness of her present mask.

"Petty revenge, a little morsel to keep an old soul marching forward." Slender Willow Swaying offered with a grim flatness to her voice as she watched the fire. Her eyes only drifting to the servant woman an instant later as if the predator in her refused to forget that there lingered prey still at hand. "They say a life led well and fully is the best way to combat what wrongs have fallen on your shoulders. These were my people for all of a few hours." she replied as a hand clenched at her skirts, the fabric rising to make show of the leg beneath. Not that of a woman but of a beast, cloven and goat like though carefully and distressingly free of hair in the customs of the 'civilized' folk. The fire caught in each curve and twist of what ought to have been bone like it was smokey, wicked glass. The crackling fire light seeming to only make it worse as it fell upon the very edges revealing a razor, rainbow gleam as if they had been sharpened and oiled with professional care.

"I didn't fit the mold. Not good enough or pure enough, I suppose and left to the Swamp. Lucky enough it's a places of monsters and men with a nose for their own." Slender Willow Swaying replied with a grin that better fit the face of a wolf than that of a woman as she smoothed her skirts out and laid out upon the blankets, her had coming to rest in her upraised palm. "When the fog clears from your head, we'll set out. Take what rest you can in the mean time. The secrets have waited centuries and they'll be happy enough to wait a few days longer."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:04, Thu 03 June 2021.

Beneath his drawn hood, Seeks What Is Forgotten smiled.

"You and Fulgar have different ideas about what it the best use of your time then."

He cackled, turning the open bag towards Slender Willow Swaying and granting her a long look at its contents before drawing its chords tight.

"What's the point of immortality if every day is the same?  Will the Harpy Eagle fly any less true when its thoughts sing in tune with its heart as it soars?"

She grew quiet when she spoke of petty revenge, though he huffed out a sound of wry amusement when she clutched at her skirts.  Where many might have pulled back in horror at such a revelation, he found Slender Willow Swaying's moon born mutations utterly fascinating.  He had often wondered why Luna of Many Faces had not chosen to grant him with such things.  Surely he couldn't get any uglier, could he?  Yet just as clearly he did not mind his own disease wracked form, or else he would have taken more steps to obscure it.  What was the point of a flimsy lowered cowl, when the Heart's Blood of a mortal would let him guise himself in flesh seemingly struck pure of disease and rot?  Well, it had one point at least.  He never needed to go far in search of a blanket.  With a raspy chuckle, he gathered it about himself now, shuffling over to the wall with Fulgar's sack clutched tight between his withered fingers.  Did the shadows seems to retreat from him as he approached?  Such things were hard to say.

"A night's sleep then, so that I might dream on mountains of sweet grass."

And more besides, she knew.  Seeks What Is Forgotten had made no secret of his gifts of prophecy and insight.  Within his dreams, he could see that which had remained hidden from his notice during the day, the shadows that seemed to fear him one moment whispering to him their secrets the next.  He made a little nest for himself with his robes, using the bag of Brightleaf as a pillow, and yawned as he nestled inward.

"And a friend of the First Circle, I think."

He added almost absentmindedly.

"Once we have no longer need of wings."

And then he was dozing, his breathing dry and scratchy as it slowed.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

The serving woman sits in a corner, attentive to the guests while busying herself weaving a basket lid out of dried river reeds common to the area. Her eyes go round as Willow raises her hem revealing crystalline hooves in place of feet. Her fingers twist unobtrusively in a sign to ward away curses or perhaps ask for blessings.

The Lunar's conversation dwindles as they retire for the night. The serving woman quietly covers the lamps, sending the room into darkness, and makes her way through a curtained door. They are left alone in the shaman's house.



Moving to a new thread.