Janira applauds Zithembe's explanation, looking quite impressed. "What a wonderful explanation! Yes, what he says is true. To put it more plainly, gillmen are a humanoid race that are an awful lot like humans," Janira explains, undeterred by what some might see as a lack of enthusiasm from several of you. "Except they've got three little gills on each side of their neck, like a fish does. They're known to be rather secretive...oh, but they're generally not hostile or anything like that," she adds quickly. "And as you'd expect due to their gills, most of them live in or near the water. But make no mistake, they were human once and not fish!"
"To answer your question Tupp, hopefully not," Janira adds. "The centaurs control the lowlands and surrounding wilderness of the Kortos Mountains. Areas further up are controlled by minotaurs and harpy tribes call the icy peaks home - but they're always vying amongst each other for more territory so we should be able to pass through without any trouble," she adds quickly. "So I wouldn't worry too much!"
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Janira takes a bite of a jelly biscuit and grins. "Now, time for the nitty gritty details of what we're doing and how we'll do it. Master Shane reviewed my notes personally and believed that it was no coincidence that each time I spotted the gillmen entering the caves, it was during a full moon. And so it's also no coincidence that we're leaving the day before another full moon. Both of us agreed that tomorrow night is our best chance to find out why these caves are important to the gillmen and what the heck they're doing in there."
"The caves we’ll be travelling to lie under the base of the Kortos Mounts and we’ll need to spend every minute of daylight possible to reach the caves by foot," she explains. "We'll be crossing over the Cairnlands, taking the paths to Diobel, and finally making our way through the wilderness. With any luck we won’t run into any of the local inhabitants! Once in the caves, we’ll need to work together to explore and determine whether any gillmen are present or have been recently. Oh, and be sure to keep an eye out for any other clues that might tell us why these caves seem significant to the gillmen!"
Janira claps her hands together, much like her mentor Shane, and smiles at the group. "And that's basically it! Before we leave I'll take a look at the gear you've brought and make sure that between everyone we've got all the necessities," she continues, nodding at Hepsubia to acknowledge her earlier question. She pauses for a moment, a new thought having clearly occurred to her. "Er, that is if you don't mind me looking. I don't have to rifle through anything personally because I'm sure some of you have your own way of organizing your packs - I know I do and it would take me ages to put everything right again if someone just randomly pilfered through it! I'll just have you take your things out so I can see what we have."
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Sylvak mentally notes the information shared by their guide while he finishes his single egg. At her request, he moves his dish to the center of the table and places his pack in front oh himself. ”You’re more than welcome to look through it,” he offers, ”though I’m afraid I can’t carry much more...”
A quick shuffle through the bag reveals four days of trail rations and a waterskin. Besides these meager contents, he points out, he has two scrolls and a flask of acid tucked into holders on his belt, plus a light crossbow with ten bolts and a longspear with a cold-iron tip.
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Ylva has seen the look and heard the tone of voice he gives her and feels a flash of anger at the strange man. She lets it go, and manages not to let Janira's comment about how she'd described them get under her skin.
She lifts her pack and opens it to reveal the contents when Janira asked to see what everyone had.
"I have some coins to purchase things we will need, but not many," she tells the others.
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Tupp holds his half-eaten roll between his teeth as he bends down and gently shoos his chicken off of his dusty old pack. "BAWK Buh-gawk!" She complains, fluttering her wings and scurrying under another table, wondering where a bird can get some rest around here. "Phorry, phori." Tupp mumbles after Sori, mouth still full as he searches his disorganised pack with both hands for show and tell.
Eventually he pulls out a length of silk rope, pushing aside all his books, his journal, chalkboard and writing implements to get to the good stuff. "Muhaa!" He exclaims as he pulls out a week's supply of rations and places them on the table. Sitting back in his chair, the well prepared halfling triumphantly finishes his breakfast roll. "Oh! I also have these..." He adds as an afterthought, and after licking his fingers clean, he plucks several vials of acid and alchemist's fire from his belt, plus a fancy looking wand with a red ribbon wrapped around the handle; the tag tied to the ribbon reads 'This should keep you going, Tupp. Good luck!' in neat cursive. The signature is hard to make out, but the words 'Wand of cure light wounds' are clearly underlined right at the bottom.
Once it's clear that everyone is okay with an impromptu gear inspection Janira takes a few moments to check through each person's pack, offering a few words of praise or other comments as she does.
"Acid flasks, Sylvak? Someone was paying attention during the Jellies, Oozes, and Puddings: When Dessert Bites Back class! Alkali flasks and alchemist's fire usually work pretty well, too."
"Let's see...oh! Wands!" Janira smiles widely as she peers at Zithembe's inventory list. "Wands are always useful if you need healing or some bolstering magics in a pinch."
When the halfling lass comes to Ylva's gear, she whistles. "What a variety of weapons! And you've got each of the basics covered - something with an edge, something pointy, and something for blunt force trauma. Well done!"
"Boy...you weren't kidding Hepsubia, you do travel light," Janira blinks when she gets to the quiet elf's pack. "But you know what? You've got the basics covered...well, except for food, you might get hungry at some point...and you've got a weapon to use up close and personal and a bow for when close-quarters combat isn't possible. You'd be surprised how many warriors forget to pack a bow or even a sling or darts!"
As she gets to Tupp's gear, Janira smiles as Tupp produces the various vials of acid and fire, as well as a healing wand. "Excellent work, Tupp! You can never have too many alchemist's fires or acid vials...or healing wands, for that matter. But you know what else I see in that pack that's worth a mention? Rope! That's another thing that I see too many field agents going without. Sure, the basic kind is a little heavy but it'll be worth the extra effort when you find yourselves with a cliff to climb."
"The Ten Magic Warriors?" she asks when Kiango produces his wind chimes. "Wow! I have to admit that I've not had a chance to learn much about the Mwangi or go there myself. You'll have to tell us more about it on the trip! You will, won't you?"
Coming last to Theodric, Janira smiles as she holds up a couple of candles. "Light, to chase away the darkness. No matter how unlikely it might seem, you never know when you'll find yourself in a situation where you need some light and don't have a friendly wizard or priest or even someone with a lantern to provide it for you. Remember that!"
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The gear inspection complete, Janira hefts her own pack a little higher onto her shoulders and practically bounces with excitement. "Okay, looks like that's everything! If anyone needs or wants to pick up any extra supplies," she winks at Zithembe, "we can swing by a shop on our way out of the city no problem! Let's get moving!"
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Tupp nods along, trying to note all of Janira's sage advice as he quickly repacks his bag, wondering why none of his other teachers were as nice as her when he was younger. I bet I would know a little more about history or religion if they were! As soon as he's finished, he hefts his pack over his shoulders and calls for Sori to come. "Okay, I'm ready! But if rope is really that important, and since we're swinging by the shops, maybe I should get a hook... Like Zithembe said?"
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"Bok bok." Sori clucks as she flies up and lands less than gracefully on his backpack. "Buk bok bok" She continues to complain while she scratches at the top of the pack to make it comfortable again now that everything has been rearranged in there, and the plops herself down with a view over Tupp's right shoulder.
Come, he says, like I'm some kind of pet or something... Empress forgive me, I do hope this boy is worth it.
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Graciously accepting the candles, Theo says, "Thank-you! I'm usually ready with light when needed, but I suppose non-magical light can be useful in some situations. I'm not exactly dressed for spelunking... give me a moment to change."
Theo steps to the bar and engages the barkeep in conversation. After a moment, he sweet-talks a barkeep into letting him step into a back-room. When Theo emerges, his stylish court-appropriate attire has changed to that of a well-equipped traveler... albeit a well-fed one! He still wears his floppy hat with the large white plume.
"Shall we be off? Adventure awaits!
"Thank ya', come back an' see us sometime!" the servent girl calls as the group gather their gear and head out the door. "Leave th' table-sitter an' th' livestock home next time though..." she mutters once the door shuts and heaves a sigh as she gets back to work.
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After leaving the Pig's Paunch, Janira leads the group through the early morning crowds that are beginning to fill Absalom's many winding streets. Besides a quick stop at Boldrin's General Goods and the open-air market to pick up some additional provisions, the trip out of the city is swift and uneventful...though Janira does eye Zithembe's newest purchase with a raised eyebrow. "Um...what's the goat for, if you don't mind me asking? I like goat's milk and all but it's not required for the trip," she laughs.
The first part of your journey takes you across the vast Cairnlands, a region littered with the ruins and other detritus of millennia of warfare and countless attempts to lay siege to Absalom itself, and then along a well-worn path that leads to the town of Diobel. The weather is perfect for travel - not a cloud in the sky and just breezy enough to keep the heat of the sun from becoming too uncomfortable. During this first day Janira insists on keeping a relatively brisk pace in order to stay on schedule and yet somehow maintains plenty of energy to point out various landmarks, distant mountains, and the variety of flora and fauna that the group see as they tromp along.
"See there, that great spire in the distance? That's the Spire of Nex! Created by the archmage himself when he attempted to lay siege to Absalom in 166 AR," she explains as she points out a distant column of smooth grey stone that rises into the sky. "It's supposed to be made out of a piece of Nex's personal demiplane and hold all sorts of pocket dimensions. There's not any obvious ways to get inside but that doesn't stop people from trying...or the strange creatures inside from getting out, from time to time." The rest of the day proceeds in much this same manner.
When nightfall arrives you make camp just off the road, Janira looking pleased with the progress that you've made for the day. "We're moving right on schedule," she beams as the group settles in for a campfire supper. "As long as we keep up this pace we should reach the caves a little before nightfall tomorrow. But today was the easier part of the journey," she admits. "Tomorrow we leave the road and head into the forest, where the undergrowth will slow us down a bit. If any of you know much about finding trails and following tracks, we might have to rely on your expertise to lead us in the right direction! But I'm sure it won't be a problem; if need be I should be able to get us back to the caves. It'll just take us a little bit longer, that's all," she smiles as she toasts what look like gooey white puffballs over the fire. "Marshmallow, anyone? They're a wonderful treat if you like sweet things!"
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"Offering," Zithembe answers Janira. "If we stray across a hunter's territory, it is at times helpful to offer amends in the form of food--substantive food."
He addresses Theo's rhetorical question with a comment that appears to be serious. "A cow would be good but too expensive, and they do not forage well."
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Around the campfire, the spiritualist resumes his explanation of the Rivethun philosophy to the samsaran naturalist. "I can by no means claim to be an authority on the beginnings of the dwarven philosophy, as I was taught by a shaitan, Third Rent. However, as I understand it, the philosophy was prevelent in the time before the Quest for the Sky. The Rivethun acknowledge the spirit in all things and seek personal growth through introspection and understanding of others. For the Rivethun, the spirit is the true self, and all else is transient, mutable, dressing.
"This resonated with my own . . . life. So I work now to better understand myself by better understanding the spirits of others."
"Oh...um...." Janira stammers, finally at a loss for words in the wake of Zithembe's rather casual practicality. "Well then! That's...certainly one use for a goat that I hadn't really considered. Hmm. Hopefully it won't come to that, of course..."
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Janira grabs a stick and skewers a couple of the marshmallows on the end before passing the stick to Theodric. "Here you go! I wish I had some chocolate and grahams for s'mores but plain toasted marshmallows are still a nice treat."
As she nibbles at one of the marshmallows - now a toast brown - on her own stick, she does cock her head slightly to one side as Zithembe resumes his earlier conversation with Kiango.
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Tupp looks around at all the sights of old battles and ruins with great interest, hustling up beside Janira occasionally to ask a question, then falling to the back again as he distractedly stares at the remains of ancient siege engines. However, when the conversation turns to livestock, Tupp is finally able to chip in with his own thoughts. "Cows are far too big!" He chirps, "My family's farm has never had any livestock larger than a goat. I mean, why would you want a cow when a goat can give you all the same milk and cheese, but without the risk of it sitting on you? Plus, like Zithembe says, goats are way easier to feed!" He goes on to explain that goats make wonderful gifts, and he can easily see why giving one to an upset party will help mend fences. "We gave my third cousin a goat when he got married to his, well... wife. He couldn't be happier with it! Says it's the gift that keeps on giving."
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As camp is being set up, Tupp peels himself out his armour and wipes the sweat from his brow before settling down with some jerky for supper. His eyes glaze over as he tries to follow along with the conversation between Zithembe and Kiango, most all of it going completely over his head. Eventually, he blinks a few times and shakes his head clear, deciding instead to take Janira up on her offer of What did she call them? Marsh mallows... he grabs some bird seed from his pack and spreads it around near the fire for Sori to eat, then settles down again and nods at his fellow halfling. "I'll try anything once! Do they grow in marshes?"
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"Ah, but a cow does provide much more meat. It would take many goats to provide the same as one cow," Ylva replies to Tupp's extolling of the goat's virtues, "and cow hide is used to make leather, is it not?"
For the most part, though, she remains quiet, not wanting to give Kiango a chance to mock her for being ignorant. In her mind, they may have been men, once, but the gillmen swam the seas and could not leave the water for long, like fish.
"Forband sydlige tungen. Der er ingen poesi i den," she mutters under her breath.
As the day wears on, the sight of long ruined siege engines and strongholds brings memories of her childhood home. A keep on the northern edge of the Grungir forest where many battles against trolls and goblins had been fought. A part of her longed to return there, but she knew she'd never see it again. Her clan's keep was as far away as the world of the fey now.
Ylva slowly chews on some hardtack and wonders if they'd have enough time on the return trip to make a stew or even some good warm bread. The appearance of the strange, white puffballs gives Ylva pause. At first, she's hesitant to accept Janira's offer, but with a chuckle she banishes her doubts and the quiet contemplation that had taken her for most of the day.
"I have never had one before, nor chocolate or these, uh, grahams that you mentioned. Is it common to roast them over the flames?"
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”Quantity, yeah” Sylvak concurs, ”you get more milk and cheese from a cow, and when the time comes for slaughter you get far more meat. And speaking of which, a goat is a good way to transport meat without having to dry it or pack it in salt... if we don’t have to use it as a gift we could slaughter it at camp and have a fresh meat.”
Sylvak happily chews on a toasted marshmallow while laying on his back and watching the evening sky. He listens with some passing interest to the discussion about the Rivethun philosophy and then asks, ”Is that common among your kind, Zithembe, that drive to understand yourself?”
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On talk of farm animals...
Theo listens with some level of incredulity as his new compatriots debate the merits of various farm animals.
At a pause in the conversation, he raises a a finger. "Um... you do realize that I was joking, right?
* * * *
At camp...
"Janira, thank you for that delicious toasted marshmallow! I enjoyed it more than many a final course at banquets!"
Turning his attention to Zithembe's words...
"I am certainly no scholar on Dwarven theology, but I have run across mention of the Rivethun in my studies. It is a fascinating practice, and the initiates are outstanding individuals. Faith can be a very powerful thing, indeed."
"Maybe so, but it's actually a pretty interesting topic now that I really think about it," Janira replies to Theodric. "Keep in mind that uh, I don't know a lot about raising animals and the like. I've always been a bookworm!"
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"You're welcome," Janira grins. "To answer your question Yvla, yes, it's pretty common to toast them first before you eat them. Oh, but you don't have to! Some people like them better just as they are. Try them both ways and see which you like, I brought plenty!"
She blinks as she tries to take another bite of her own and misses, smearing some of the gooey treat across the tip of her nose instead. "Just uh, watch out, they're kinda sticky after they've been toasted," Janira adds as she tries to wipe the goo away and only manages to get her fingers sticky. While she does continue to take in the philosophical musings occurring by the campfire, she seems content for now to simply listen and let speak those who wish to do so.
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"My kind . . ."
The jade-skinned man takes a long moment to choose his words. "The purpose of my kind is to suffer. The Rivethun believe that the soul is refined and strengthened through suffering, just as iron is forged, as gems are cut or polished, as stone is carved. In that way, we are all close to the dwarven philosophy. But the drive to understand oneself? No, not all, though I have met very few. Some are content to remain as they were made."
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”Interesting,” Sylvak answers, momentarily looking away from the sky to his new companion, ”there was an entry on your kind in Ostarian’s Compendium of Planar Oddities, but it didn’t say anything about being created to suffer... Are you suffering now, or have you somehow overcome that part of your nature?”
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"Then the author was uninformed," Zithembe says and then adds with a wry smile, "All that live suffer. However, I assume you mean the suffering of my creation. In that regard, if I had not been freed of that part of my nature, I could not stand before you on this plane or with a name of my own choosing."
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Ylva tries the marshmallow without toasting it, then she tries to toast one for herself.
She gets it a little too done, but manages to avoid turning it into a fireball. As promised, it proves to be a gooey mess, but it's still a delicious treat.
"Thank you, Janira. I will have to get some of these next time I am able," Ylva says with a grin. The grin quickly disappears as the conversation turns to Rivethun and Zithembe's origins. She frowns as she hears a bit of the strange man's philosophy.
"What do you mean when you say 'all that live suffer?' Do you mean they know pain or do you mean they are suffering all the time?"
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Tupp knows he's fighting a losing battle in the grand debate of cows vs. goats, but he has one last rebuttal up his sleeve. "Ah, if it's quantity you're interested in, consider this..." He says, raising a finger in the air. "Cows might give you leather, but you can only make a few jackets and that's it. Pick the right goat, and you'll have soft, warm jumpers for life!"
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"I'm with Ylva." Tupp says as he carefully hovers his marshmallow over the fire. "I prefer to think about the journey or the exciting places I walked to, rather than the blisters it gave me. Life's too short to concentrate on the bad thi- Wait... Did you say you were created?" Tupp's eyes go wide as he looks towards Zithembe through the campfire. "But I thought Oreads were born just like Halflings or Humans." He frowns and scratches his wispy excuse for sideburns, deep in thought as he studies the statuesque man's jade skin and copper eyes. "Hmm... You are an Oread right? I heard they were a people made of stone, just like you."
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"True, I would rather wear wool than leather, but you cannot make belts or skins that hold water with wool," Ylva replies with a grin, enjoying the banter. "I would rather have both, if the truth be known. I have already said what I feel about wearing leather and wool, and I like goat cheese better than cow cheese, though I like cow milk better than goat milk."
"Surely he means being born," Ylva says, "I have heard some claim the gods formed them in the womb to act as they do, and they often speak like Zithembe did."
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"Oooh! That makes sense." Tupp agrees as he pulls his marshmallow out of the fire and gives it a good sniff. "Although, if that's what happened with my family, I think whatever deity had a hand in creating us must have had way too much time on their hands..." He starts laughing, letting out the occasional involuntary snort, before adding, "I have SIX older brothers!"
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”I believe that most share your view, young Ylva,” Zithembe says with a smile. ”The Rivethun appreciate the joyous things in life as much—or more—than anyone. There is a difference between obsessing over suffering and understanding suffering.”
He shakes his head slightly as the two debate the meaning of his prior words. ”No, I was created. Created a slave to suffer my master’s punishment in the afterlife,” he clarifies. ”My body and soul fashioned in the likeness of my master by mortal hands and mortal magic.”
He smiles at Tupp. ”Do not fret your mistake. We are built from precious metals and stones, so we are often mistaken for oreads.”
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Hepsubia listen intently, gives a few stories about goats and livestocks (it appears she worked at a time in a farm, among other things, even if she lacks a strong sense of chronology), and munches on marshmallows, enjoying them as someone way Younger could do.
Everyone is different. No shame in that. Not only are we different from each other, but we are different from the boy or girl we were only three weeks ago, so when you Don't count your years… It's sometimes easier to remember what happened to you than to remember when it happened. And why bother anyway? It happened. If it was a good thing, try it again, if it was a bad thing, be more careful next time.
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"Zithembe, regardless of the circumstance of your birth... or creation... your destiny is your own. Your own choices in your life are what determines the ultimate fate of your soul."
After a pause, he adds, "I try to live my own life according to an adage I heard years ago:
'Do all the good you can,
By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,
As long as ever you can.'"
"Hmm...that sounds familiar but I can't quite place it," Janira finally speaks up, looking thoughtful. "You know, I think both of you are right - what doesn't kill us makes us stronger but at the same time if you can't find any joy in even the smallest of things then what's really the point? Like sitting here under the open sky with good company and good marshmallows," she smiles.
"And Zithembe? I remembered something and I...I think I see why you've chosen to walk the path you do," Janira adds gently, her usual cheeriness muted somewhat. "While I agree with Ylva - your master was a coward - I'm glad that you've found your own way. Or that you're working on it, anyway. I hope you find what you're looking for here in the Society."
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"There is that," Ylva says, feeling a little abashed at the openness that Janira displays.
"We have a lovely fire and good company. We should not let it go to waste! Who here has a tale to tell or a yarn to be spun," she asks, letting go of the embarrassment and seizing the joy that was there in front of her. "I can always begin if anyone's feeling shy."
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”Isn’t that what sheep are for?” Sylvak asks as the conversation turns to the merits of goats as a source of raw materials for textiles.
Before the storytelling begins, Sylvak thinks about Zithembe’s response and counters, ”Well, the point may seem purely semantic to someone who was forced to endure suffering but technically, even from what you just said, your kind aren’t created for the purpose of suffering- you’re created for the purpose of bearing your creator’s judgement in the outer planes; that you suffered in that judgment was a consequence of your creator’s poor life choices, and the wrathful nature of the gods they served, but it was not itself your purpose. Now that you have fulfilled, or escaped, that original purpose you are free to find a new purpose not rooted in sorrow or suffering...”
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Zithembe smiles softly at his companions apparent concern. The teachings of the Rivethun are not esily grasped, so he opts not to correct them. He nods to Kiango and Janira as they speak in turn. On the subject of shabti, he relays one last observation to Sylvak, "While we are few and I only spent a century in the Eternal City, I have never met one of my kind that was created by a man bound for Heaven."
After politely listening to Kiango's fable, he says, "Good story."
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Ylva thinks for a moment after Kiango asks her for a story before a smile slowly spreads over her face.
"I think I have a tale for you," Ylva says as she looks into the fire and stirs the embers with stick, sending smoke curling through the air.
"In the old days, where even the memories of the elves are blurred by the passing of years, there was a wise king who was mighty in knowledge and war. His wife was a clever woman who knew the arts better than any. They often engaged in games of wit and knowledge when their court was empty and the sun lingered long in the sky, for that was the time when work in the forests and fields were done and their subjects did not linger long in their hall."
"One day, they began such a game. They told of their favorite kings and lords, extolling the deeds and virtues of each while the other tried to find a flaw that the first did not know about. The queen went first, having won their last contest."
"'Oh my wise king,' she said, 'I favor Dabhan of the Lake most of all. He is quick of wit and fleet of foot. His hair is like the fire of a rising sun. He is handsome and many a woman would lay with him for a single night in the hope of bearing a child as handsome and witty as he.'"
"'Handsome he is, and I deny not his wit,' the king replied, 'he is indeed fleet of foot, for when faced with a giant, so fast did he flee the cloud of dust from his passing rose high into the heavens and was seen for miles and miles. A coward's act it seems to me.'"
"'Nay,' the queen rebuked the king, 'It was to lead the giant into a trap where the beast may harm not the people of his land that he fled. Fear not the giant did he, save only the harm it could bring to his people.'"
"For hours they went. The king would put forth a flaw or some act dishonorable, and each time the queen would rebuke him. Finally, the king admitted Dabhan of the Lake was a worthy lord indeed."
"'Oh my clever queen,' he said when his turn was at hand, 'I favor Hafdan of the Hills. He is mighty of thew and keen of eye. Never is his larder empty of meat, nor does a hunt end without him catching his quarry. His bow is mightier than many an oak and his arrows swifter than the winds themselves.'"
"'Mighty he is, and I deny not his keenness of eye nor his prowess with his mighty bow,' the queen replied, 'yet callous and wicked I name Hafdan of the Hills. Many a guest to his court have been slain in the night by their host and many have been made guests of his dungeon for his entertainment.'"
"'What slander is this,' the king demanded of the queen, for never before had either of them spoken so ill of the other's choice. 'Unfair and uncouth I name your accusation.'"
"The king then decided to visit Hafdan of the Hills to prove false the queen's claim. He disguised himself an old man, bent with age and heavy on his cane. He came to Hafdan's hall and begged shelter for a night, for it was even then that one did not turn out guests into the night. Hafdan's men let the king in, then took him deep below the hall into the dungeons. They placed him in a cell where eight fires burned bright and hot."
"'Many tortures I have you,' Wicked Hafdan of the Hills told the king when he came sometime later. 'I'll gouge out your eyes and bite off your nose and ears. I'll scar your face with burns and burn your loins with venom. I shall castrate you before my court and feed the member to you. I shall cut out your tongue then bind you to four horses until your legs and arms are torn free. This I do for the crime of asking of me what is not yours.'"
"The king knew his folly then. Right the queen had been. Wicked Hafdan left the king to swelter in that miserable and hellish chamber, but his son was a kinder man. Raised by his mother away from Wicked Hafdan, he knew of the wrongs his father did and sought to ease them as best he could. He gave water to the king, which renewed him. He asked the young lad to give him the cane he'd come in with. The lad gave him the staff and the king took the strength he'd put there and broke free of his prison. he slew Wicked Hafdan with a single thrust of a spear and made his kindly son King of the Hills, whose people prospered for many years under his rule."
Ylva gave the others a sweeping bow before sitting back down and grinning.
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Tupp sobers up a little on hearing how, and why, Zithembe was created. "I'm glad you got free." He says quietly, echoing the sentiments of the others. However, as soon as the folk stories begin, he soon perks up again, listening with great interest as he munches on the toasted, gooey treats provided by their mentor. "I didn't know you were a bard, Ylva!" He exclaims, clapping as Ylva sits back down. "That was great! Although, I don't know how wise that King truly was if he didn't believe his wife." He laughs again, "Which reminds me of the story my parents always used to tell me of how they met, and why they will always believe each other..."
Tupp skewers another delicious marshmallow on his stick and leans forward to retell the tale. "My father was working in the field with his all his brothers when my mother walked by - she was travelling with a caravan at the time, helping with the animals and stuff... Well, anyway, my father saw her walking and, distracted by her beauty, almost chopped off his big toe with a hoe. All my uncles fell about laughing, but my mother ran up and asked if he was alright. Now, my father didn't want her to go, so he lied and said 'I chopped off my toe with a hoe.' My mother was soo concerned that she helped him limp back towards the caravan where she had some bandages and stuff she used to look after the ponies. On the way they started talking and found that they really liked each other."
He leans back and quickly checks his marshmallow before sticking back in the fire. "Now... When they were almost to the caravan, my father started crying. 'Is the pain that bad?' My mother asked, but my father shook his head. 'I lied,' he said, 'and I fear you will never talk to me again... I didn't chop off my toe with a hoe.' My mother just smiled and said. 'I know.' Haha, he never wears shoes, and my mother could clearly see he was fine." Tupp wiggles his own toes to accentuate the point. "Then my mother said. 'I lied too. The caravan left days ago.'" He smiles and leans back, "She just wanted an excuse to talk to him too, and had been walking by for days trying to build up the confidence to say 'hi.' And, well, they've been together ever since! No matter what one says, the other believes, because they know that at the end of the day, they'll always be happier if they do."
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"That was a very good story, Tupp," Zithembe says with a warm chuckle.
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In the morning, after rolling his blankets and eating a breakfast of hearty wheat cakes, Zithembe clears a space under the trees. "I am going to begin my morning communion with the spirits. You are all welcome to join the seance. You need only keep your mind open. If you wish to attempt the contortions, you may, if attempting them distracts your mind, it is better to simply sit and be."
Once those who opt to join have gathered, the jade man sits with his legs crossed begins with a convocation of the spirits, spoken in ancient Osirion. He remains still for a long while afterwards. After the stillness, he begins to move. His body slowly flows through a series of postures and positions that require a fair bit of strength and flexibility to maintain.
As time goes on, those who participate in the seance begin to smell different things: freshly broken soil, flowers of the field, blood, ozone. The scents progress to brief hallucinations: moving through the dark earth as a burrowing ant, crossing the island of Kortos as the wind, experiencing the eternity of time as an acorn grows into a great oak, catching a rabbit in your jaws as a wolf. The sensations become less frequent until they stop and Zithembe declares that the seance is complete.
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Janira listens intently to the stories that Kiango, Ylva, and Tupp have to share, laughing along or looking thoughtful as each one unfolds. "I'm not sure if any of you intended it or not - except maybe Kiango - but I'm seeing a theme here. Each of your stories has a lesson you can take away - Kiango's about the nature of generosity and kindness, Tupp's about being willing to take chances, and Ylva's...well, I guess the moral of that story is to always listen to your wife!"
"Here's one for you," she continues as she stirs the fire a bit. "In a small Qadiran town, hundreds of years ago, a merchant owed a large sum of money to a loan-shark. The loan-shark was a very old, unattractive looking man that just so happened to fancy the merchantman's daughter."
"He decided to offer the merchant a deal that would completely wipe out the debt he owed him - but the catch was that the merchant would give him his daughter's hand in marriage in return. When this proposal was met with disgust, the loan-shark decided to make a wager of sorts, instead. He would place two pebbles into a bag, one white and one black and the daughter would then have to reach into the bag and pick out a pebble. If it was black, the debt would be forgotten, but the loan-shark would then marry her. If it was white, the debt would be forgotten, but the daughter wouldn’t have to marry the loan-shark."
"Standing on a pebble-strewn path in the merchant’s garden, the loan-shark bent over and picked up two pebbles. Whilst he was picking them up, the daughter noticed that he’d picked up two black pebbles and placed them both into the bag. He then asked the daughter to reach into the bag and pick one. What to do? She could have refused to pick a pebble at all, to take both pebbles and expose the old loan-shark for cheating, or knowingly select a pebble and sacrifice herself for her father's freedom."
Here, Janira pauses for a moment and smiles. "But the daughter was a clever woman herself and realized that there was another way. She drew out a pebble from the bag, and before looking at it ‘accidentally’ dropped it into the midst of the other pebbles. She said to the loan-shark, 'Oh, how clumsy of me! But never mind; if you look into the bag for the one that is left, you will be able to tell which pebble I picked.' The pebble left in the bag was obviously black, and seeing as the loan-shark didn’t want to be exposed, he had to play along as if the pebble the daughter dropped was white and clear her father's debt."
"And the moral of this little tale? You never know when you might be able to overcome a difficult situation with a little out-of-the-box thinking," Janira concludes.
After a filling dinner complete with marshmallows and stories, you set up your watch rotation and settle in for some well-deserved rest. Thankfully the night passes without incident and the next morning dawns bright and sunny, hinting at another day of pleasant weather.
"There's not much better than camping out under the stars, is there?" Janira chatters as the group finishes breakfast and begins packing up their gear for another day of travel. "I imagine tonight we'll be camping in the caves or just outside of them so we probably won't see many stars...but that's okay! There's always the trip back to Absalom, after all."
"And to answer your question, we're going to leave the road shortly and head just slightly to the northwest, towards the base of the mountains," she replies to Kiango as she double-checks her enormous backpack.
When Zithembe makes his offer to join in his seance, Janira looks positively torn. "Ooh...I'd love to join but it'd also be quite the opportunity to watch and observe..." She hems and haws for a few minutes before finally settling on being a quiet observer. "Zithembe, may I document this? It would be a wonderful opportunity!"
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Sylvak somewhat subtly shakes his head when Zithembe disagrees with his assessment of the reason for his creation.
hmm... it seems he isn’t clever enough to grasp the subtle but significant difference... a shame, he seemed to have great potential when he recalled so much information about gillmen and this island...
Having used his bag for a pillow and his cloak for a blanket, it takes Sylvak a matter of seconds to be packed up. He momentarily considers Zithembe’s offer to participate in some ritual before answering, ”Thanks but I have my own prayers and meditations to take care of.” Moving to a relatively calm and quiet spot, he offers a few simple prayers to the Shimmering Maiden then communes with his holy symbol.