1629, Fire Season, Fertility Week, Freezeday Night
Context
Whitewall on the eve of a Wolf Pirate attack. After Session Sartar 5 (South) #8, Payer 1 Ready and before #9 Gate Pass. Follows on from Vareena and the Vingans.
Events
Varanis gets a few hours of sleep, before she rolls out of her sleeping hides. She digs around in her pack for her pot of woad before heading toward to highest point of Wilmskirk’s Air Temple.
The Air Temple has two parts; her host’s house, and the raised portion of the ground at the centre of the city, where nobody has been assigned to sleep. It is the Southern end.
Outside the precinct of Orlanth’s most holy place, she stops. She strips out of the simple shift she had been sleeping in, folding it neatly and setting it on the earth.
As naked as the day Ernalda welcomed her into the world, she unwraps her pot of woad and begins to paint her runes. Her fingers dip into the paste, then mark Air on the back of her hand. Methodically, she works from limb to limb, painting Air and Movement on every part of her that she can reach.
The red moon gives enough light for that. The woad looks almost black against her skin. Over her heart, partially overlaying her tattoos, she paints Sartar’s mark. She finishes with the Mastery Rune on her forehead. She doesn’t paint that one often, but if she might die today, she will do it as herself.1I think she even manages to do some on her back. Not that I was contorting in my office to see how far I could reach or anything.
The prickle of drying paint reminds her of the sometime-cool of the Air, despite the heat of a night in Fire Season. When she’s ready, she makes her way into the sacred space, reverent and determined.2B: POWx5, let’s see how this feels to you. V: 25
It is Freezeday, and by now it is early morning. There is little to connect her to Orlanth or Sartar in the omens. Nevertheless, a breeze blows across her back as she steps into the holy place, and her hair ruffles like Vinga’s would. It was still, a few moments ago.
The Vingan’s preferred form of worship is through a sword dance, but she has left her iron blade in her hide, sleeping. It is just her and the gods. She begins to walk the spiral, picking her feet up lightly, as if dancing. There are stones that mark the path, here and there, but mostly it is marked by feet. The path is faint in the darkness, clear in her understanding.3V: I’m thinking a few rolls. Movement to inspire Dance, which is not a great skill. And worship (Vinga/Orlanth) and worship (Sartar) with some magic points put into the last one. The goal is to try to reach for Sartar’s protection for this place, even though it is currently outside his borders. But, he was one of the greatest negotiators of Gloranthan history and my great (mumble) great grandfather. AND we are hoping to bring Whitewall backinto Sartar with this mission anyway. Also, I’d totally understand if that is stuff that should be done on camera. Part of me just doesn’t want to because well… other people end up with wonky feelings about Varanis. So… I’d also understand if it’s destined to fail. B: Perfect. And add a POWx3 to that for, um, reasons. V: Ok, 5 mp to the worship Sartar. So, I think that’s 5 rolls. Here goes: Movement 56/95, Dance 26/40+20, Worship V/O 5/104, Worship Sartar18/55+50, POW *3 54/54
Her feet carry her through the movements, strong and competent like the warrior she has become. She spins and leaps, making her way toward the heart of the spiral. It is a battle dance without a sword or spear. She sings as she goes – part hymn, part battle anthem. On reaching the centre-most point, she spirals out again.
She repeats the spiral, but this time she is a storm. Thunder clouds and rain. While the movements are less practiced, she knows them well enough to make it to the centre, and so she does. As before, she spirals out again.
One more time she begins her dance. This is the dance of chiefs and kings, taught to her in Prax. This is the dance of Orlanth Rex, practiced in Kallyr’s temple in Boldhome. Her movements are powerful more than graceful. She is commanding. And she calls upon her god. This time, when she reaches the heart of the temple, she stops. She throws her hands skyward and sings out his name.
“Orlanth! King of kings. Lend the wisdom of he who slayed the Emperor and then restored him to life to Haralast, Rex and ruler in your name. Let him lead and protect Wilmskirk much as you do your stead.”
Thunder rumbles above. The sky is clear, but Orlanth sends that great sound.
She bows her head in thanks.
After several long breaths, she treads the spiral path back out of the temple, to the space that marks the entrance. Here, she unwraps the second bundle, which had been placed next to her shift and woad. She has the makings of a very small fire, and she sets to work building it here on Orlanth’s doorstep.
A bow-and-drill is a Yelmic way of making fire. Yelm let slip that secret to Mastakos, who is eternally moving, and who gave it to Mahome of the hearth, who gave it to Ernalda, who gave it to Orlanth as a wedding gift.
She prepares her fire by building a tiny house of twigs and small branches. With the bow and drill, she sings to Mahome while she coaxes an ember to form. When it is ready, Vareena, Daughter of Vinga and granddaughter of Sartar, moves it to the house.
As the kindling begins to catch, she seats herself in front of the fire, facing towards Sartar’s flame, far out of sight in Boldhome.
She takes slow, deep breaths, centring herself the way she was taught at his shrine. His song is rhythmic. If she’d had a drum, she’d have used it, but instead she makes do with her hands, clapping the beat as she sings. As she does so, Vareena seeks for the flame inside her.
It is there. Nestled between one breath and the next. Stronger than the first time she sought it out. The brazier stands and the flame glows, pulsing in time with her heart.
“Grandfather?” she calls out mentally, then winces. Kallyr told her to show respect to the god who was a king. But when she has reached him in the past, his warmth enveloped her like an embrace welcoming her home and she has never been able to maintain appropriate formality when she prays.
“Grandfather Sartar,” she calls, reaching out again.
Distantly, the warmth enfolds her. Intimately, from far away, she feels the heartbeat of Sartar.
“Grandfather Sartar. I am trying to build peace. To bring Wilmskirk back under the protection of your kingdom. But, when Yelm rises, there will be enemies at the gates,” she begins. “The City Rex is Haralast.” Here Vareena calls up his image, holding it before the Flame like a doll being displayed to a parent. “He needs help to keep his city safe. He needs the voice and wisdom of one who builds to stand fast against those who would destroy. We will fight if we have to, but we would rather protect. I pray for your blessings upon him.”
A wheel turns. The fire flares. Varanis sees the brazier, inside and out, and for a moment understands each of the panels on it. There is a single engraving inside it, unknown to most. The Movement Rune is carved forever, and here is a secret; it moves slowly in the bronze. She feels the metal resist and give way forever, feels the ash-filled blank that is the carving quiver. There is less sense of a person than she is used to, and more sense of a vast community, looking to its edges.
She reaches her hands toward the community, bringing them directly into the Flame. If it burns, she doesn’t notice.
It holds her, keeping her despite the distance. She sighs and lets herself rest in it until the birds begin to call. The first warning that Yelm is on his way.4
B: Rest? With a Movement Rune beneath her, ever-burning?
The community sleeps or wakes, but Sartar is already moving, and the feeling of communion is breaking as soon as it has formed. Already, the great Wyter’s attention is on a dozen other things and is fading from her.
Vareena is always moving and so rest within Movement is the same as breathing. But, as Sartar’s presence leaves, she sighs. Using one of the unburnt branches, she scatters her little fire. Untended fires when a fight looms are unwise.
She unfolds her limbs gracefully, feeling the tug of the dried woad on her skin.
Not bothering to put her shift on again, she collects her belongings and heads back to the hall where she will dress, armour up, and wake Dezar. She promised to greet Yelm with the Vingans this morning and then she should find Haralast.
- 1I think she even manages to do some on her back. Not that I was contorting in my office to see how far I could reach or anything.
- 2B: POWx5, let’s see how this feels to you. V: 25
- 3V: I’m thinking a few rolls. Movement to inspire Dance, which is not a great skill. And worship (Vinga/Orlanth) and worship (Sartar) with some magic points put into the last one. The goal is to try to reach for Sartar’s protection for this place, even though it is currently outside his borders. But, he was one of the greatest negotiators of Gloranthan history and my great (mumble) great grandfather. AND we are hoping to bring Whitewall backinto Sartar with this mission anyway. Also, I’d totally understand if that is stuff that should be done on camera. Part of me just doesn’t want to because well… other people end up with wonky feelings about Varanis. So… I’d also understand if it’s destined to fail. B: Perfect. And add a POWx3 to that for, um, reasons. V: Ok, 5 mp to the worship Sartar. So, I think that’s 5 rolls. Here goes: Movement 56/95, Dance 26/40+20, Worship V/O 5/104, Worship Sartar18/55+50, POW *3 54/54
- 4
B: Rest? With a Movement Rune beneath her, ever-burning?
