1629, Earth Season, probably Disorder Week, Around Waterday
Context
Varanis, Xenofos and Finarvi have paused at Wilmskirk, where there is a problem with the Orlanthi feeling tired. Session SA5.W4.
Events
Not far from Wilmskirk is a rise with a good view of the road, and Igril condescends to be put down there. He stands unsteadily on his feet, leaning on his staff. “The spirits here hardly have the strength to hold me.”
It might be one of his many, many ordinary complaints.
“Would you like more to be summoned, Holy One? I could ask Vinga. I don’t know if she’d listen, but I could always ask.” Varanis straightens her spine with an audible crack and a groan.
“No, no. The spirits here are inferior. I could summon many and they could hardly fan a fire.” Igril scowls down at the ground, but does not sit.
Off by the road, looking at Igril with calculated concern, is a man in armour.1Varanis specicrits Scan. He looks like one of Silor’s warriors, although the name is not coming to mind. Middle-aged, well padded out, in good armour, he’s one of the band that hangs around Silor in surprising number.
“Dezar… who is that?” Varanis murmurs. “Does he smell familiar?” Without waiting for the sleepy spirit to reply, she gives the warrior a wave and strides in his direction.
YES YES HE IS! THAT IS THE OLD TOMCAT THAT SMELLS OF CHEESE!
“Oh, fine, just go off without me,” Igril mutters.
“Hail, Thane,” says the man. “Lord Silor has asked me to share a message with you.”
“Cheese?” Varanis asks the spirit aloud.
MOST OF YOU SMELL OF CHEESE. YOU DRINK MILK AND SWEAT!
“Hail Warrior,” she replies. “I am always eager to hear from…” Her nose twitches at Dezar’s reply and she takes a second to recover. “I’m always happy to hear from Lord Silor.”
SOMETIMES YOU SMELL OF EACH OTHER. I’M GOING TO SNIFF HIM!
Oblivious to the difficulties of kitten-herding, the warrior says, “He thinks you may wish to know that Lady Berra will be visiting Wilmskirk shortly, likely in the company of, my Lord says, a raven and a dove.”
OH YES, DOVES ARE GOOD TO EAT!
Varanis brightens immediately. “Berra???? And Maalira? No, Dezar, you can’t eat the dove, that’s Maalira. She’s a White Lady. Eating White Ladies is bad. Unless they consent and well, you’re the wrong species for her anyway. And a raven… good, I would like to talk to him.” She glances back over her shoulder and some of the light fades. “I have to work with the shaman though. I have obligations.”
YOU FIGHT THEM AND FIGHT THEM AND THE FEATHERS COME OFF!
The man looks briefly puzzled, but then his gaze relaxes as he works out what is going on. “I’m sure that your friends will understand if you’re busy. They should be staying with us, anyhow.” He gives Igril a look with as much darkness in it as Varanis’ glance. “No good comes of shamans.”
“He is helping the Orlanthi of Wilmskirk,” Varanis chides, her eyes narrowing on Silor’s man. “Like him or not, he is due your respect.”
There’s a narrow-eyed look, and then a shrug. “Take care out here. Do you need anything?”
WE NEED PEOPLE TO PLAY WITH
“We’re fine, thank you. We have what we need.2Varanis fumbles Survival. Please pass my thanks to Lord Silor and leave word for my companions as to where you found us. I think we won’t go far from here.”
“And send a hide for me! My old bones don’t like to touch the earth too hard, and we walked out here without thought!” Igril’s ears are good, apparently.
“You said it was urgent, Holy One!” Varanis shoots back. But she looks to the warrior and nods, “A couple of hides for the shaman. Perhaps some food for him as well? He’s so thin.”
There’s a snort from Igril. He mutters something that does not carry.
“Of course,” the stout warrior replies doubtfully. He looks like he would prefer a battle line than this conversation. “We’ll send out enough for all of you.”
MM YES MICE
“You can hunt your own mice, Dezar. But please remember what happened when you pounced on one of Holy Igril’s spirits. Let’s avoid that, shall we?” To the warrior she says apologetically, “I allied with a fierce shadowcat spirit.” Something about the way she says fierce suggests that she means young.
“It must be an honour,” he says, straight-faced. “Does your guest like any particular foods?”
“Soft foods. Airy. A bean pottage perhaps?”
“Of course. We’ll – Lord Silor will – make sure of it.” The man smirks. “In person, probably.”
POUNCE LORD SILOR YES NO?
varanis: “No!” Varanis exclaims.
Grey brows draw together, and then the frown clears. “Well, maybe that’s below him. I’ll ask him to send someone.”
She blinks at him. “What? Oh, sorry. Dezar wanted to pounce on Lord Silor. I did that once, but we were sparring, and well.. I wouldn’t do that to him again and anyway…” She takes a deep breath, trying to slow her thoughts. “Right. He can decide about the food. I won’t let Dezar pounce on him. And I should get back to Igril.” She starts to turn away, but halts. “Thank you for the message. Please journey safely.”
The grizzled warrior bows his head slightly, and says, “Stay with the Air strong behind you.” Then he’s off.
A helpful wind lowers Igril to the grass. He complains in an undertone about its quality, but he seems to be talking to the breezes.
Varanis paces around the rise, checking for any potential surprises.
“Dezar, we can’t pounce all the people. And when you tell me to pounce while I’m talking to someone, it’s distracting. A bit like if you are getting ready to pounce and I start talking to you.”
RAWR I AM WIGGLING MY BACK END
In a small copse not far from the hill, someone big and red-headed is entangled in a bramble bush, which has caught his cloak3Varanis rolls a probably-special on Scan, and the redhead failed to creep up anyhow..
Varanis stalks towards the copse. Poor Dezar. She’s not even trying.
The man is Silor. Of course it is. The cloak is going to need darning, and possibly magic. The man himself looks a little tired, and a cross between irritated and amused.
OH HE GOT INTO A JAR AND CANNOT GET OUT!
Varanis snorts. “Need help, father of my heart?”
Dezar runs around in excited circles.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Silor replies. After a moment he adds, “Save yourself. Leave me. I am done for. You know, this was a lot easier when I was thirty, and a brother of the greenwood.”
“My allied spirit wants me to take advantage of your disadvantage,” she tells him. “He is a mighty hunter.” She takes a few steps closer and studies his predicament. “You might need to cut that branch and we can pick it out of your cloak out here. Or…” Her smile is a wry twist of the lips. “How much trouble would you be in if you left the cloak as a sacrifice to Aldrya’s minion?”
Silor steps back and away from the brambles, wriggling out of the cloak as he does. Carried beneath it, like a peddler does, he has a wrapped bundle over his back. “Jeng will see to anything you asked Filig to bring, but Thenaya insisted that as I’m trying to stay out of the way right now, I go for a walk, and she happened to have some food and quite a lot of furniture with her. I shall be a pack mule in my next life, and count myself lucky.” The cloak settles over the bramble bush to stay.
“Would you like me to carry your pack?” Varanis offers.
“No, I’m a mere messenger. If you could hold it for a moment while I get the thorn out of my shoe, I would appreciate that, however.” He takes off the big bundle, as if it weighs nothing. “Look out. When she packs, she means it.”
Grabbing the straps, Varanis braces herself to take the weight into her hands. Proud she may be. Young too. But she’s not stupid. If Silor says it’s heavy, she trusts him.
It seems to have a lot in it, but at least it is well held together. A thick canvas holds everything in, just about. There is probably a wicker frame for the back, or else that would be bulging.
RRRRRR I SMELL CHEESE!
“You always smell cheese,” Varanis points out. Now that she’s got the pack in hand, she gives Silor a cheeky grin and tries to swing it onto her back, preparing to make a run for it as he deals with his shoe.
His eyes narrow, and he gestures, but whatever he was casting bounces off Vinga’s protective shield.
The pack is well-balanced, if rustic. “Now hang on.” Once magic has failed, Silor turns to wheedling.
STOLE IT! YOU STOLE IT! Dezar is pleased.
“I’ve got to keep the cat happy somehow,” she tells him as she attempts to tear up the rise. The pack is heavy enough that she’s not running quickly.
She gets away from him, but then the pack stops having weight, and starts trying to fly her backwards instead. Up, back, even down. Its weight shifts irregularly.
She laughs, clearly delighted by this turn of events. Holding tight to the straps, she tries to lean into it, to drag herself forward step by step.4Silor has cast Flight on the bag and is trying to stop Varanis. She passes a DEXx4 and fails STRx5, but passes POW to be lucky about what that means, and for nothing to tear.
It twists, nearly pulling her off her feet, and then Silor starts flying it downwards. Suddenly it weighs twice what it did, and it is like carrying a person.
The pack is enough to pull her backwards, and down. The sudden weight coming onto it all at once was too much to handle, and she will have to put it down if she wants to keep her dignity.
Howling with laughter, Varanis concedes defeat. “Age and cunning bests youth and enthusiasm,” she says when she can finally breathe again. “Well done, Silor. You have won the day and the burden!”
Silor gestures from the forest and the pack rises into the air. Now his shoe is back on, he can follow Varanis, but he does not lift up the backpack. Instead, he lets the air carry it to his shoulders. “One day I will run out of cunning, but by then hopefully the young will be old, and I can simply fall over on them.”
She just shakes her head at him, still chuckling. “Clearly, I need to spend a Dark Season at Cinderfox Tula, sitting at your feet and studying strategy from a master. Dezar enjoyed that game, by the way. Even if I lost.”
“You didn’t lose strategically. You exhausted me for pride.” He does not look exhausted. As he walks up the rise, he bears the pack as if it has no weight at all. “And you made… no pride made me cast Orlanth’s magic by a shaman of the Air. Always risky.”
Igril, up at the top of the rise, is either meditating with his eyes closed, or sleeping.
She chews on her lip as she considers the lesson.
Silor just spent a lot of magic on winning.5Varanis passes an INT score to understand it. He won, but he is not talking about just this scrap. There may well be another, and he’ll be down on magic, and Varanis has hers. As well, he went for the flashy, expensive option first, and he failed at that. Vinga protected her from his magic.
Battles are not the same as wars.
- 1Varanis specicrits Scan.
- 2Varanis fumbles Survival.
- 3Varanis rolls a probably-special on Scan, and the redhead failed to creep up anyhow.
- 4Silor has cast Flight on the bag and is trying to stop Varanis. She passes a DEXx4 and fails STRx5, but passes POW to be lucky about what that means, and for nothing to tear.
- 5Varanis passes an INT score to understand it.
