A dismal downpour of rain accompanies the humidity-laced streets of Dtang Ma’s capital, Ramparassad. The brief scent of thick tobacco fills the air just outside the appropriately named storefront: “Pak’s Tobacco and Spice”. Inside, Old Pak sits behind a counter in the otherwise closed shop, enjoying a pull from his long pipe. He is accompanied by a small, pale figure with multiple tattoos and piercings who wanders down the rows of collected masks opposite the entrance.
“Greetings, Pathfinders,” Old Pak welcomes you. ”I am glad you could make it. The tea is already boiling and should be ready soon! My guest here, is Harjandi, who joins us from the usually reclusive Minatan city of Inahiyi with a request for aid. It’s rare for the wayangs of that region to venture out of their homeland, and I’ve decided to hear her message; and based on your prompt arrival, it seems you have too!”
The wayang woman nods, turning from her tour of the masks. “Though Inahiyi has few visitors, we have heard tales of the great Pathfinder Society and their interest in and respect for history and ritual. My city holds an annual festival to commemorate its founding, which was also when we came to friendly terms with the locals of Minata. The celebration includes ceremonial reenactments of our dealings with those ancient humans, roles that my fellow wayangs usually don masks and costumes to portray. Approximately every half a century, however, the festival falls on the autumnal equinox and tradition requires that outsiders participate.”
Harjandi continues, “The celebration is only a few days away, and if you accompany me back home, we will be happy to compensate you for your time. You’ll also have the esteem of being among the very few outsiders to witness our rituals. And, of course, you will be treated as guests of honor at the festival.”
“Not to mention the possibility of strengthening ties between the Society and Inahiyi,” Old Pak adds, suddenly coughing as the sound of a boiling kettle startles him from the last inhalation from his pipe. “Tea’s ready!”
perform to keep a shadowy evil imprisoned. However, most believe that the rites are simply part of an elaborate allegory representing the wayangs’ inner struggle with their darker selves. Some outspoken wayangs have declared the rituals to be a hoax, and hope to one day reveal the pointlessness of their kindred’s ceremonies.
|
"Well, a festival!" Maqan beams. "I can't think of a better way to serve the society."
She walks up to Old Pak, and graciously accepts the scalding tea with a nod before lifting her cup to Harjandi in a toast. "May our venture be blessed by the heavens, and our revelry inspired by... ah, to be polite, by someone with a bit more excitement in their veins," she calls out with wry smile.
|
A second Ifrit, this time a male one bows before smilingly accepting the tea, and after the required smalltalk comments on the prospect to join such a rare feast "I am honored, beyond words, to be invited to such a feast. Are there any special duties, like serving as judge, or holding a speach, we are expected to fulfill. And what kind of present could show our gratitude?"
Old Pak blurts, "Try not to be too disruptive, and foster good relations with the locals. Any information you can bring back about their culture—and this festival in particular— will help the Society properly catalog the information for future use by field agents."
Harjandi answers to the specific tasks of the ritual in a more stately manner after Old Pak has said his piece, "Nothing too strenuous. There is a mock fight, a debate, and a feast accompanied by a shadow-puppet play. Events that we hold every year. Anything you need for these rituals will be provided. They are very important to us.
"And we would never expect nor accept a gift. You are our guests, after all. If you wish to show your gratitude, do so by throwing yourselves fully into the spirit of the festival."
Old Pak chuckles and says, "Aye, you can't get much closer to Asmodeus' sweaty armpit than these islands." He swats a mosquito violently.
"That's fine," Old Pak replies to Feuerseele, "The Spider's Silk doesn't leave for a few hours. Just don't get lost."
Harjandi leads the rest of you through Ramparassad's crowded, hot, and rainy streets. The smaller woman seems to have less trouble navigating the crowds than her larger charges as she dodges between the legs of hurried traders and travelers.
The crowd thins as you reach the docks.
"This is our transport," says the wayang woman. The sailors on the Spider's Silk eye the wayang warily but do not object as she crosses the gangplank.
|
|
Maqan hops up the gangplank and takes in the ship through the rain and smog. "Well, delighted to be here! Here's to safe travels, and don't worry - I promise not to set the sails on fire this time." She grins devilishly, then proceeds to the prow, where she keeps her cloak held tight against the rain.
|
|
Goran gladly accepts the tea from his host.
Thank you...ahh, a nice aroma...I must remember to get some before I leave to take home...good tea is a break from the harshness of the coffee back home.
He greets the others as they show up. He checks his pack when Feuerseele mentions gear. {b] I think I am good for equipment...[/b]
The sailors look concerned and start mumbling at Magan's comment about setting sails on fire. "She jests. She jests," Harjandi moves around the deck, trying to allay the crew's fears.
"A horse!?" shouts the captain, suddenly. Your wayang sponsor hurries over to the captain where they carry out a heated argument. You think that you hear Harjandi say, "At least it is not a tiger."
Eventually, a crane is obtained to hoist the horse into the hold. "Getting it out once we reach the island is your problem," the captain warns Harjandi, "If you can't, I'm sure my men can figure something to do with it."
The men draw up the gangplank and toss the ropes. Two man-powered tugs begin rowing the cargo ship out to open water.
Harjandi meets you at your bunk space. "You're free to go above deck as long as you stay out of trouble," she says, glancing at Magan and the other ifrit, "If you're in the mood to chat, why don't you tell me why you volunteered for this assignment? Not that we're not excited to have you as our guests."
|
|
Maqan smiles at Harjandi. "Any opportunity to see more of the world is a welcome addition to my life. There is so much to see and experience! When I heard of the opportunity to join in this excursion, I knew that I would not likely get the chance again in my lifetime, and jumped at it immediately. One doesn't join the Pathfinders if they want to live a boring life, after all."
|
|
Hervey knows nothing of the wayang culture but is excited to learn. He remains so silent during the meeting with Old Pak that one might not even realize he was there.
He follows the group onto the ship. To Harjandi's inquiry, he replies, "As the others have said, our Pathfinder Society is a unique opportunity to see some of the most amazing things our world has to offer. I am certainly honored to be one of the human representatives at this special feast!"
The Spider's Silk sails into Inahiyi's port early afternoon on the day after embarking. The gray garbed and gaunt-looking wayang on the docks are attentive to the arriving ship, their wiry arms belie the strength they demonstrate in hauling the ropes and carrying crates. Black and gray flags flutter in the sea breeze along the length of the pier.
Harjandi leads you down the gangplank to meet with the mayor of Inahiyi.
"This is Mayor Farzhan," she introduces him with a polite but stiff bow.
The ancient wayang grins from ear to ear (literally) as you approach. "These are our honored guests? So pleased! So pleased!" he practically falls over himself bowing to each of you, "We are so pleased to host the fabled Pathfinders for this cycle's ceremony!"
Behind you, you hear a loud crash as two more gangplanks are laid against the ship in preparation for leading Rerois' charger off of the ship.
"How was your trip? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" the mayor practically bounces with excitement.
Harjandi interrupts the mayor, "I am sure they are quite tired from the voyage and would like to rest. Let me get them settled at Unelda's before you overwhelm them with your questions."
The charger whinnies as loudly as the wayang try to coax him onto the widened gangplank.
"Oh! Of course. Of course," Farzhan says, bowing several times in a row, "Please, make yourselves comfortable in our humble village."
Harjandi moves away and beckons you to follow.
Inahiyi is a small town made of short structures, most of which you would require you to stoop. The wayang folk in town are all dressed in clothes ranging from black to medium gray. They wave and smile pleasantly at you, but otherwise go about their busy preparations in silence. For a town preparing for celebration, it is eerily quiet. Banners and flags of black and dark gray cloth are hung across the streets in the same way other villages would hang colorful streamers and flags.
Harjandi leads you to a boarding house. The ceiling is a little higher than average, allowing you to stand tall, but you cannot avoid the knowledge that if you lifted yourself on your tip toes, you'd likely bump your head.
The owner, Unelda, greets you warmly, "Welcome! Our home is your home, honored guests. Please, your rooms are this way."
Your rooms were obviously designed for small folk. The chest of drawers in each room is comically small, and the two beds in each room have been lined up foot-to-head to make it longer, if not wider.
"Once you are settled, you are free to explore the village and partake in the festivities as our guest," Harjandi informs you, "I will let you rest for now. We will find you when it is time to prepare for the ceremony."
|
|
Again carefully leaving the ship, to prevent to fall into the water the ifrit is visibly happy to be on stable ground again.
Looking around in wonder he nevertheless smiles, although looking down on his red and gold clothing he wonders if he is not somewhat out of place, dresscode wise.
But then he gets into the spirit of the village and after dropping his backpack in their resting place he starts looking around.
Feuerseele gets a liking to the folded paper hats and starts slowly collecting them and trying to get to know some people.
|
|
Rerois clicks his tongue and Swift Grey trots down the gangplank with no further issues.
After dropping off his stuff at Unelda's house, he begins to mingle with the wayang, as well as find his own paper hat.
"What is the significance of these tattoos? And why is there a tradition of bringing outsiders to this?"
|
|
Hm...these look interesting....oh well, the Goddess hates a coward...can you do a tattoo of this please? Right here over my heart is best...or perhaps my back....no the heart. Definitely. And if I can still move after that? I might get a small piercing in my ear...the latest rage I hear. Where shall I sit?Goran asks, holding up the symbol if Sarenrae for the artist to examine.
Hervey is able to indulge in a number of exotic treats: boiled snails dipped in butter, sweet tasting nuts coated in a green powder that is so spicy that it generates actual heat in his mouth, a cool, soothing yellow slug wrapped in salty fresh sea weed, a variety of fried fishes, diced panther heart dipped in a tangy red sauce, and sweet pastries filled with a tart, blue berry filling. While some of them are an experience to remember, none of them make him ill. All of the vendors are quite happy to meet Hervey.
"Oh, certainly, yes, we can do that!" the tattooist at the stall Goran chose says, eager to meet one of the Pathfinders. "I could have one of my assistants pierce your ear while I ink the tattoo. You probably won't notice the stab."
The tattooist waits for Goran to remove his shirt and lie down before he begins. The process is excruciating. It is not so much the pain of any single prick, but the pricks come so fast and constant as he rapidly taps the head of the sharp handle with a stick. While he is doing this, his assistant takes an awl and hammers it through Goran's earlobe. The tattooist was wrong. Goran definitely felt that, and it is so much worse than the tattoo.
Once he is finished, Goran has a tattoo in wayang style--stylized and more tribal--of Sarenrae's winged dagger over his heart. He also has a bone peg through the bloody hole in his earlobe.
"Remember," says the tattooist, "No swimming in the sea for three days, and you can change the peg in your ear once a week until you get it to the size you like. Maybe even fit a boar tusk through it."
Elsewhere, others in your group mingle with the wayang townsfolk.
"The tattoos we wear our the wayang way of expressing ourselves. We do not display colors like light folk as it attracts too much attention from predators, and we do have a fondness for the dark shades. It reminds us as home. However, the patterns of marks on the body release our creativity and personalities. Scars and large piercings are especially good as they add flair to our shadows," the tattooist at stall Rerois' chose informs him.
Somewhere nearby, Rerois is fairly certain he heard Goran cry out.
A different wayang answers Rerois' question about the festival. "When we tried and failed to return to the Shadow Plane, and the demon broke through, it was the light folk, strangers from different tribes, who joined forces with us--even after we had been at war for many, many years--to drive back the demon. So we honor their aid by inviting outsiders to participate in Abbinthurtaa on auspicious years. Like this year with the comet passing through the sky."
|
|
No swimming...got it....do you have a ring I can put in my ear? Something simple, yet nice...a hoop with a sun pattern, perhaps? Or is there a jeweler you recommend? Goran examines the artwork on his chest and the damage to his ear. He is confident the hole will shrink a bit so he can wear a simple hoop through it. He engages the tattoo artist and his apprentice about the festival during his procedure.
|
|
Rerois glances towards the direction Goran went as the wayang tells his story. "Demon? What demon was this?"
While chatting, Rerois removed his glove and shows the tattooist a sketch of the Archstar with a flame burning in the center. "My family has always had the flame as our crest. The flame's glory cannot be hidden, and neither shall ours." He lays his hand flat on the tattooist's table.
Out of politeness for their guest, the tattooist tries to hide (but fails) his snicker when Goran asks about the jewelry. "No. No, sir. You will not find any sun motifs in Inahiyi." He tries to suppress another chortle. "There is no gold on the island save whatever you brought with you. We make our jewelry out of coral, mother of pearl, wood, bone, obsidian, and tin. But I am certain one of our jewelers could make something like that if you brought him one of your coins and asked."
The wayang are obviously curious about the ifriti but also demonstrate a level of wariness when interacting with them. Many of the paper hats are remarkable works of art, if flimsy and temporary.
"If anyone knew their names, they have been lost to time," Rerois' tattooist says about the demon. "They were beasts from our ancient home: the Shadow Plane." He eagerly takes to tattooing the Chelaxian's hand.
Mayor Farzhan and Harjandi find you after after a little more than an hour of festivities. They are carrying a large tray with six painted wood masks and six rolls of ribbon, each a different color.
"Friends! Friends!" Mayor Farzhan calls to get your attention. "It is time for you to take your place in the ceremony."
The two wayangs shuffle up to you, the elaborately carved masks give you eyeless stares. Upon closer inspection, they are very old but well cared for.
"Each of you must select one of the ancient heroes to portray during the activities of the festival:
"First, Bu Lo Dama, the human captain of the Nine Rings who was the first to come to our aid." He holds up a human-like face pained with deep blues and a matching set of ribbons.
"Second, Ilyamakano, the elven druid who came to Mount Shibotai to find the cause of the eruption." He holds up an elf-like face pained with forest greens and a matching set of ribbons.
"Third, Lai Ligau, the human acrobat who came to the islands for profit but became a hero when the fates called." He holds up a human-like face painted in gold and a matching set of ribbons.
Fourth, Nobali Hohachi, the tengu priest who brought the word of Hei Feng to the islands." He holds up a black bird mask and set of black ribbons.
Fifth, Tiqa Vastrokardoyo, a sage who came to the islands to learn about our people." He holds up a human-like--if somewhat different than the previous two--mask pained with indigo and royal purple and a matching set of ribbons.
"And last, Whaoxi Sennen, the kitsune who came to the islands for reasons lost to history but aided us when the fates called none-the-less." He holds up a fox mask painted in oranges of a sunset and a matching set of ribbons.
The masks are quite distinctive in the otherwise drab decor of Inahiyi. Mayor Farzhan waits expectantly for you to choose.
|
|
[ooc]Sorry, long weekend of celebrations, as I've just departed from my job, and celebrating farewells takes more time than I had planned.[ooc]
Maqan tries the food, and genially chats up a few of the locals. She's glad to hear of everyone's excitement, and tries to help lift their spirits further, as she's able.
When offered the opportunity to select a mask, Maqan claps her hands. "Bu Lo Dama, if you please. I've never really been in charge of anything, and this sounds like a fun opportunity to get the experience without taking on any of the responsibility."
Once each of the Pathfinders has chosen a hero to represent, Mayor Farzhan grins and hands off the tray and remaining mask to Harjandi.
"Good! Good! Excellent choices all around. Now it is time for the ceremonial mock combat. This combat represents the time before the eruption of Mount Shibotai when the wayang did not trust the light dwellers and the light dwellers did not trust the wayang. There was blood shed on both sides. Come with me."
The mayor leads you to the arena, which is more a game field surrounded by temporary bleachers. Gray cloth forms the walls that separate the spectators from the battle. Hundreds upon hundreds of wayangs sit in the stands of this large arena, many of them solemnly waving black pennants. A number of low walls and raised platforms are scattered across the dusty arena floor. The air is charged with an electric undercurrent of excitement.
"You may choose your weapons from these ceremonial replicas. Remember that this is a mock combat," the mayor instructs you, "Once you are ready, gather by the gate."
|
|
Maqan chuckles nervously before looking at the others. "Well, if there are some blunted... and padded? crossbow bolts, then I'm in luck. Otherwise, I hope they don't mind me messing with their minds via magic. I'll try to draw their attention as I'm able, but no guarantees, my friends. Desna smile on us all!"
"Why win, of course!" Mayor Farzhan says with a chuckle. He leans in and whispers, "I bet on you all."
Hundreds upon hundreds of wayangs sit in the stands of this large arena, many of them solemnly waving black pennants. A number of low walls and raised platforms are scattered across the dusty arena floor. The air is charged with an electric undercurrent of excitement.
Mayor Farzhan gives a short introduction at the conclusion of which he shouts, "Begin!"
Two of the wayangs bolt for cover faster than most of you can react.
==========
Combat! Bold may act. Round 1
Maqan
Wayangs Dotted Border
Goran
Feuerseele
Hervey
Wayangs Solid Border
Rerois
The other two wayang gladiators head into the arena: one down the murder lane and the other heading around to flank.