6-1: The Wound of Past Sins [For A Better Age]

Inguz's body contorts and his flesh grows and constricts, feathers retreating as leather materializes to clothe his naked form. As his human form becomes recognizable, his hands are raised in peace,


"You would be surprised where scavenger's can live, and thrive, as long as there are dead things to eat. But I'm not here to eat you little pirate, I'm here to help keep you from being eaten. I know Volund, and I know the Shadowlands, and I know the conspiracies against you."


-------


As Narrante leaped up upon the broomstick, it revealed Inguz standing behind her,


"I can carry one."


He stares blankly for a moment, then he turns his eyes towards the ground,


"I apologize, I have troubles with introductions."
 
Asyk


His hands flash to his bow at the sight of the stranger in the camp. A Lunar? How many Exalted are we going to attract? Since the newcommer doesn't seem to be a immediate threat, he lowers his weapon, knowing that with a command his ifrits would strike, along with the rest of the circle. "I would advise you to come up with a better way of introducing youself, to avoid any misunderstandings in the future. May I inquire as to your name? And what brings you to our humble encampment?"
 
Alfrun


Alfrun cannot help but smirk at Narrante's question. Briefly though their contact has been, the witch has found herself smiling frequently around the airship captain. "One thing I've learned about witches is that we tend to have complicated histories. It tends to show-" The words freeze as Inguz makes his presence known. Alfrun's head snaps to face in his direction, the witch suddenly launching herself up and leaping from her staff. The dangerous implement follows to its mistress's hand, leaving Narrante suddenly without a foothold, as the staff is brought threateningly to bear at Inguz's jawline.


"Keep your hands up, stranger!" She barks, as she crouches on the rail of the ship. "Trouble doesn't even begin to cover it. The only reason I've not reduced your head to pulp is the possibility that you might not be our enemy, just simple." Alfrun gestures to Asyk with a nod. "Now answer his questions, and be honest, or I'll bring you down where you stand."

Activating Judge's Ear Technique. It's 3m, so can spend Peripheral Motes on that. Spent 8m earlier on activating the Staff of Tales, that was Personal.
 
His movement strong and slow, Inguz's dark eyes remain locked with Alfrun,


"I am Inguz Thurisaz Oct, patriarch of the Death Watch Tribe. The Harbinger killed many of my people, and now I seek powerful allies, so that the whole North can avoid the same, and I think his next target is Icehold."


Inguz's stony features move slightly into something that could be construed as upset,


"I tried not to surprise you all. I already startled Narrante earlier, and we talked some, but I got lost in the action of the ship."
 
Alfrun


Alfrun stares hard at Inguz, but senses no lies in his words. She draws back her staff, casting it behind herself, where it returns to its flying form and hovers level with the rail. She steps back onto the broomstick and drifts away from him.


"Alright. Assuming I believe you, you're in the wrong place to be negotiating alliances. We all have more important things to do besides babysit you to make sure you're not some form of saboteur. Unless you have some reason to be here or something to contribute to our endeavour, you can get a compass heading from Narrante and be on your way."
 
Narrante


Almost as though the move were anticipated, Narrante's knees bent ever so slightly as the muscles in Alfrun's arm tensed to move and direct the staff. Not quite a flip, but a seemingly casual leap backwards and she landed on the railing on her hands, seeming to have no trouble balancing herself. "You really need to work on your introductions, Feathers," Narrante added after her compatriots' more aggressive greetings. She tilted herself to one side and landed on the deck, now right-side-up, and leaned on the railing comfortably.


"He was at the big meeting in Icehold when the Celestial Lion showed up, but if he introduced himself, it was after most of us had left," she noted. "You were that snow owl, yes?" she inquired, but it wasn't really a question. The two of them had spotted one another when he lingered at the window, but his appearance while they were landing was their first exchange of words. She let Alfrun handle the real matter at hand, but thought she may as well chip in with what she knew. An Exalt was an Exalt, and an invaluable asset in just about any endeavor, but she knew no more about his trustworthiness than they.
 
Alfrun


Alfrun looks at Narrante, all evidence of her previous good mood evaporating into an exasperated, disbelieving glare.


"WHAT!?" Alfrun shouts, arms held out as if expecting some explaination to be forthcoming. When none manifests itself, she sighs, hiding her face in her hand as she soothingly rubs her brow in an attempt to make the pain stop.


"You didn't think that some of us might find that kind of information..." She begins, then sighs with resignation as she looks back up at Narrante. "No, of course not."


"Come on. We've got work to do." She says with a gesture for Narrante to climb aboard the broomstick once more. Her attention then returns to Inguz, the cautious aggression she had visited on him before now lost beneath a mild antipathy.


"If you want my recommendation for an alliance, swear that you mean us nor Icehold no harm, that you seek our friendship, and you will do your best to aid us. If I believe you, you're free to follow us and help in our quest. If not, then get going before I lose my patience."
 
Inguz gives an almost imperceptible nod to Narrante,


"Aye, that was me. I've been waiting for the right time, but I was impatient."


He stands proud as Alfrun addresses him,


"Of course, I am here for Icehold's benefit, more than my own. I am an acquaintance of Volund's, that's why I came to you. I have skills that will benefit you all. I have made the ways of the dead my own. If your wards had been weak I would have laid my own, but your skill is respectable."


Inguz's rocky brow furrows as he prepares to speak more,


"And I know of the Harbinger's plans. He is far more advanced against Icehold than you could imagine, but the Underworld is not a place to talk. So let's get moving before our bones mingle among the dust of this place."
 
Alfrun


Alfrun looks skeptical, almost desperately trying to find some hint of deception in Inguz's words, but she is forced to give in to what her senses tell her. Seeing no duplicity in his words or demeanor, she gives a nod of consent.


"Alright. You're free to come." She agrees, turning to address all three of her travelling companions.


"Now, please, all of you, let's go and get some work done, before some other lunatic shows up and professes a sudden desire to help us!"
 
Narrante


"Yes, let's be off," agreed the Night caste, once more nimbly taking one end of the broomstick for herself. Places to be, work to do, ghosts to corral, so on and so forth. "Am I the only one who finds it odd how many of us can fly?" she wondered, back to her usual mood as she waited for them to be off. "I suppose the sun and moon naturally gravitate toward the sky," she noted, wondering if any of their other companions in Icehold were hiding a set of wings under their armor.
 
As the flying group approaches the village, its drab appearance is much as Asyk described earlier. Except for the small, bone white manor now placed at its edge. Looking over the squat village. The village does not seem particularly active. Not surprising given the time at night. Though a couple of ghosts can be seen drifting about the village.
 
Alfrun


The witch is not shy; as they arrive, she sails through the streets, just a few feet off the ground. It comes as no surprise that this place is dead at night... Though the manor is a surprising addition. Still, she expected something.


She keeps an eye out, looking for any sign of activity. This place wouldn't be standing here if there wasn't something interesting about it.
 
Descending upon the village, the manor stands an impressive spectacle. The massive vulture descends, and lights with one final mighty beat of his wings, swirling the ashy dust about him in a whirlwind that obscures his form as he returns to his human shape. He looks ready to speak, for surely in all his dealings with the dead and the underworld he should have some inkling as to the origins of the manor.

1m shapeshift. Also, I would like to attempt a roll to see if Inguz knows anything about the place. If allowed, which pool should I use?
 
As the group descends, you can see a number of individuals look out the windows and doors of their huts to see you come into their town. They look fearful and worried as they examine the newcomers, and tell their yawning children to withdraw further into their huts. On closer examination this is far from prosperous village. Seemingly bereft of trade, surviving almost entirely of goods made in the village and subsistence agriculture by the looks of it.


After a few minutes an older, wiry man with graying hair steps forward to address you in a calm but strained voice. “Who are you and what are your intentions newcomers?â€


OOC: You would need an Intelligence + Lore check to know what this place is.
 
(Adding one success pre-emptively to prevent a botch via 2nd Excellency. 2m, Personal Pool.


Int + Lore: 2,6,3,2,4,2,2,10,2,7 + one success = 4 successes.)


Alfrun


Followng a brief and discering glance around the town, Alfrun looks down at the old man from her perch. Drifting along on her broomstick, she comes to a stop not far from the stranger and rests.


"I am Alfrun, Wyrd Witch of the North, and representative of Icehold. These are my travelling companions." She explains with a gesture to the others, taking a moment to let her gaze linger on the newly arrived Lunar. "Some of whom I know better than others."


"We're here on official business, looking for certain unusual trinkets to add to a collection I'm building." The witch says simply. "Your village happened to be near our camp site, so it seemed worthwhile to see if our temporary neighbours are friendly or not."
 
Inguz can think back to the wisdom of his tribe who said that the relationship of mortals worshipping the undead is perfectly natural and normal relationship, and that all should be encouraged to do so. That the undead should be given positions of respect and primarcy, and that their mortal descendants should do what it takes to placate the undead. As it is only the natural order of things.


The village elder looks at Alfrun and her companions with worry and suspicious, but manages to speak cordially to the Winter Witch. “Welcome to my humble village of Woodbrook. My name is Rith, and I can assure you that my fellow villagers have no hostile intent towards your camp.â€
 
His eyes lingering on the manor, but drawing a blank, Inguz focuses on the situation at hand.


"The snow lion has no hostile intent towards its prey, but it must kill to eat."


His delivery is factual, lacking any hint of threat or disbelief.


"Let us get to know each other. Tell us of your village and how it has come to be in such a dire place."
 
Alfrun


There is a moment when Alfrun wonders if that is the silliest platitude she's ever heard or not. Still, she waits and listens patiently.
 
Asyk


Not feeling much in the mood for conversation, Asyk keeps watch around the clearing, his claw never straying far from his bow.
 
The elder motions towards one of the huts. “Perhaps it would be best if we took this conversation to my home. No sense carrying on this discussion in the middle of the street.â€
 
Inguz stops his acquiescence just short with a barely audible grunt, realizing he is the greenest among the group, and not even officially part of this envoy.
 
“Please come with me,†says the elder, and nods as he leads the group to a nearby hut. Within are relatively Spartan accommodations with little in the way of furniture or other luxury items. The elder sits on the opposite end of a small table, and motions for the collected Exalted to sit opposite of him.


“Now, what is it you wish to know?â€
 
Alfrun


Alfrun is not comfortable moving into a potential ambush. As the group moves to follow the man, she puts a hand on Asyk's shoulder. Leaning in, she whispers to him.


"I trust these people about as much as I'd trust a hungry dog with meat. Take off like you're going back to the camp, then spiral around. Keep an eye out for anything that might look hostile, whether it's near us or not."


Her message delivered, Alfrun lets go of Asyk and follows the old man into his home. She takes her seat, though not in a chair, instead preferring to rest on her hovering broomstick, forcing those present to turn their gaze ever so slightly up to meet her eye.


"I've heard of villages settled in the Fell before. It's a harsh place, but the hardy can survive it. By your age, I'd imagine you're one of the hardiest." She begins, attempting to lighten the mood. "Still, I'm curious as to why anyone would want to settle in this shadowland. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me how your village came to be?"
 
The elder listens to what Alfrun has to say and nods courtesy. “If you must know, our village does not have the most auspicious start. Our village was started by slaves who escaped the slave satrapy’s. Some going all the way back to when the Scarlet Empress first subjugated and enslaved those kingdoms. Then over time in addition to slaves, other exiles have made their way here. Either from the Icewalker tribes, villages, or ever from Whitewall. Those without anywhere to go. Or want to go somewhere where others will not follow. Or at least survive the attempt. So that is how our and other villages in the area came to be. We have come live under the protection of our undead lords and ancestors, and make the best living we can in this land.â€
 
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