Bowki, nods and seems to understand. "We have those who practice arcane magic, or divine, but it is rare. Usually our shamans pratice the most."
As the message is slowly convey, Tavros starts to fidget more and more. Finally he hopefully asks, "Time to continue onwards to village-camp?"
Seeing that it's time to move on, Mlinzi helps the others back to the ground, then returns to his self-appointed task of returning the dead body to the camp.
Miyu continues to stick close to Mlinzi, but doesn't push him at all.
Maks, once on the ground, begins to talk again along their way to Goat-Camp. "I actually -do- have the favor of some spirits. The healing energy that I gifted to you and your allies, as well as my own comes from the Life Spirit that followed me from my tribe. There isn't a -lot- of contact... but the spirit is what I petitioned through to reach Miyu." she motioned to the oversized fox that had drawn closer.
After about 20 minutes of messages in the sky and cheering, clapping people, the group decides to move on.
You follow the eager goatlings and are soon at their campsite. You exit the thicker portion of the forest into a small clearing. Goatlings have set up a camp here with some tents and other supplies.
It appears that some of your fellow brothers and sisters have also made it here, and are talking with the goatlings as well. (camp 6)
There seems to be about a dozen goatlings and they all greet your group, and as your small troop steps from the forest. There is a bleating of surprise and interest as they examine everyone's appearance.
There seem to be several shamans here who are talking to the others, mostly Nathan.
Seeing that some of their brethren have already made their way to the goatling camp, and appear to be well, Mlinzi is comforted somewhat. Despite the attacks, it seemed that Goodwin's children were doing alright for themselves. Still, the death of the goatling leader continues to weigh heavily on him as he tries to fight off the demons of his past.
"Makoto, can you talk to the spirits of this forest? If some sort of being really is supposed to come out of that lake, we should be prepared."
Otherwise, Teniel spends the trip shadowing the chieftain, trying to see if he can pick up any stories or legends regarding past lake festivals. He also asks Bowki if the goatling can try to sing to Bayangan, since he's trying to teach the bird music.
"Mmmm... not really, no. I'm not really a druid or anything like that." she shrugs. "I have a few life spirits I can beseech to heal, to keep you folks going... but that's more of a 'Miyu' thing, at this point." she explains. "And besides, don't you have spirits that do things, too? Do they ever talk to you?" she tilts her head, as they continue walking.
"Makoto, can you talk to the spirits of this forest? If some sort of being really is supposed to come out of that lake, we should be prepared."
Otherwise, Teniel spends the trip shadowing the chieftain, trying to see if he can pick up any stories or legends regarding past lake festivals. He also asks Bowki if the goatling can try to sing to Bayangan, since he's trying to teach the bird music.
You are just following Bavari, one of the shamans. Most of his efforts revolve around meeting with scouts as they come and go returning messages from the other groups which happens a few times. After a bit it is clear that between your group and group 6 just starting out, that groups 2 and 3 are also in the very near vicinity. The various groups have had some success in speaking with the goatlings, and it appears that groups 2 and 3 might be heading this way as reported by the scouts.
Bowki is willing to sing, but not while they travel through the woods. Once at the lake and the festival begins he will.
Day 2 - Later Afternoon into Evening
As the various groups of Goodwin's disciples return the the lakeside, they see the Goatling camp in full swing. At least a hundred or more goatlings are moving about efficiently building large bonfires, collecting dead wood and driftwood also for funeral pyres. Quite a few more are involved in food preparation, as large bags of grain are opened and used to make food. It appears everyone knows of the outsiders now, and there appear to be no ill feelings for the deaths of their brethren. In fact they seem to take it quite in stride, and place a great deal of honor on the fallen, almost as if those who fell in battle were somehow blessed or lucky to do so.
You are able to mix freely with the goatlings, although in their hustle and bustle they move about with purpose and at times you feel as if you are getting in the way. They welcome you in the camp but it seems clear that you may wish to build your own shelters. The goatlings have set up some tents made of wild animal skins, but it isn't clear if you are invited to shelter in them. You see Bowki, Bavari and Rahaan at times as they move about, and many goatlings seem to be asking them questions about the newcomers.
In time more goatlings arrive, this time they bring with them large satchels, carried between two goatlings, which when unwrapped reveal many large kettle base drums. These appear to be very well crafted, each carved with fine detail, a masterpiece of art and craftmanship unto itself. These are set up along the shore in a special place on some large rocks that are moved in place.
The camp is a whirlwind of noises, smells, warmth from the fires, and cool breeze from the lake. There is a palpable aura of excitement in the air. Despite only having vague ideas regarding the Ceremony of the Lake, you feel it is a big deal for these people.
Not long after the camp is flowing smoothly. You hear the trumpeting of horns to the south, a mix of high clear bright noises accompanied by long deep, powerful blasts that shake the air and almost make you jump from your skin. The entire camp of goatlings stands at once, stopping what they are doing and look to each other in a state of surprise. Within seconds they all cheer at once and scramble to reverently assemble. Those of you with the ability to understand some goatling, it is clear that Golden Ram has arrived. This apparently unexpected event causes the camp to quickly fly into an even greater frenzy of activity, cleaning, adjusting, moving and clearing a space of honor for their leader's tent.
Shortly the leader appears. Golden Ram is tall for a goatling, you estimate nearly eight feet tall, not as tall as the minotaurs or ogres among you, but certainly majestic. His horns are long, thick and curved back, sweeping curking back into spirals behind his broad head. His pelt is thick and luxurious looking, and indeed quite golden in color. A thick beard adorns his chin and he wears a set of silvery armbands matched by a large silvery chestpiece.
Surrounding him are at least a dozen warriors, also large for goatlings, and they look grizzled and battle hardened. Some of them are missing horns or tufts of fur. They scan everything remaining vigilant and when they see the outsiders you they seem to be watching you in particular.
You see a few revered elders accompanying Golden Ram in the entourage, each with their own mini entourage of attendants and warriors. The horns you heard earlier are carried by several large goatlings, each with several smaller horns but also each carrying two very large horns from perhaps a dragon, elaborately carved. The entire procession settles in and they begin moving about efficiently. The Golden Ram confers with his elders and after a huge tent is erected, their leader disappears into the tent with some of the elders and the warriors fan out and create a guard around the structure.
The excitement of the arrival of their leader, has the goatlings scurrying about to make the campsite ready for the grand ceremony which probably takes place after darkness falls. Bowki or Bavari check in from time to time and see if the groups are doing ok.
Maks thinks out loud as he arrives, "Is silver harder to work than bronze or easier? Isn't silver a softer metal?" she says tilting her head; "Maybe it's more of a ceremony thing or a station thing. Though I guess there's not much armor, either way." she comments after a moment's thought. Her tails swish slightly as she notices all of the mastercrafted drums - all of which seem to be drawing Miyu's attention away from Mlinzi. He approaches them and looks them over with interest; if the Goat-folk that have them try to shoo him away, he'll listen... but otherwise he's quite interested in the drums.
The goatlings actually take great interest in Miyu given his unique appearance. Also they note the matching runes linking you both; the goatlings are convinced Miyu is a spirit, which is closer to the truth than not, in some ways.
Hmm. At least Teniel is small and quiet enough to never get in people's way.
Tavros eyes the drums and attempts to find someone less busy to teach him the traditional dance to be done. If this means he helps the goatling(s) to get set up faster, so be it.
Tavros you approach the goatlings by the drums. You attempt to mingle with the goatlings there and make signals that you are interested in the dance moves. You even do a little demonstration dance of your own. THe understand that you are interested. A few of them draw circles on the ground and indicate how the dancers form a circle, the concept being that the dancers focus their energies in the center of the circle as they dance, and this energy draws the spirits from sky, the earth, the fire and the water. At least that is the idea you get from the arrows they draw and the hand gestures along with some the words you have learned so far. The footwork itself seems to be less structured. It seems to be a shuffling forward and back into the circle and out, in a very fast paced and and deliberate method. There also seems to be a funeral dance, in which the footwork is even faster, apparently designed to 'shake the earth' for the deceased. There is a war dance they demonstrate that has a much more structured style, and actually seems to incorporate martial footwork in it. Much of it appears to be designed to imprint on the dancer the various moves, feints, strikes and charges one might employ in battle. There are several pieces where the dancers lower their heads and charge forward for a few paces and shake their head and then jump back. This piece seems to resonate well with your own sets of horns and you feel you can appreciate it.
The flurry of activity seems to brighten Mlinzi's mood considerably. He looks for a spot to begin setting up shelters, and is soon scurrying about, gathering pine boughs and other materials to construct shelters for his group. Sometimes, he will attempt, by signs and gestres, to ask to borrow tools from the goatlings to aid him. He still wishes he had a solution to the shoes problem, as his companions are still barefoot.
He waits until the light has faded too much for Maks to continue painting before he approaches. "Maks, I hate to bother you, but do you think we might be able to bargain for some leather? We really need to figure something out for shoes..."
"Mmmm... well, they're already giving us tents from what I hear." Maks offers, "Or loaning them, I'm not sure. If you'd like, we could maybe find someone to get leather from, but I think we're wearing our 'blessed spirits' angle pretty thin." she gives him a doggy smile, tails swishing slowly, splattering the ground around her with droplets of paint.
"The other races will likely be better for trade as they are likely to be more advanced technology wise."
Day 2 - Evening/Night
As the groups mingle amongst the goatlings, darkness rolls in. The large bonfires illuminate and warm the camp. Torches on stakes form a perimeter about the campsite. Lined at the shore are the funeral pyres for the nineteen goatlings and battle goats slain. While great honor is afforded those who fell in battle, there is some awkwardness as many of the killers are here in the camp, and despite their feelings about battle prowess and bravery you sense some remorse from the other goatlings, perhaps even some uncomfortable looks. As the last ray of sunlight passed beneath the tip of the western mountains, a small brazier was lit, when that brazier burned out a short time later, the funeral pyres were lit by shamans who sang a quick prayer in goatling. Those who have been studying the language make out little, but the basics involve the spirits of the ancestors guiding the fallen on a serene journey to the afterlife so that they may watch over the living and guide them in the future, in life and in battle. They speak of those who had just fallen as well as those who fell in battle or to other reasons in the past year. (Bowki explains much of this to you, and word gets around among the Goodwin's disciples.) Music is played but the great horns and mighty drums are silent. Instead, smaller drums and lighter instruments are played, pipes and flutes and maracas made from gourds are the main instruments. The music is very fast and there is a lot of quick stamping designed to shake the ground. The sound of over a hundred pairs of goatling hooves on the rocky shore creates quite the noise. The wind blows the smoke, heat and luckily the smell of the pyres out over the lake to the east. The initial ceremony takes some time, and is followed by feasting with oat and seed cakes, dried fruit and some sort of fermented mash. For those who try the mash, it is quite sour, but packs a solid kick. Smaller dance circles break out and random music is played before the next ceremony.
Golden Ram is seated on a large chair overlooking the ceremonies, on a raised platform of wood and stone. He is surrounded by the Elder Council and his circle of grizzled warriors. Next begins a ceremony of the elements. It is explained that this will call spirits of nature and give thanks to the wind and rain, to fire and to the earth. It asks that those spirits continue to provide for the goatlings in the new year. All of the young goatling warriors form circles for this dance, and they begin to move in and out opening and closing the circles. The dance is not as quick as the funeral dance, less structured and more rhythmic. The music and singing is more sing-songy and they use a variety of instruments, some emulate vuvuzelas and others are like didgery-doos. The overall noise is like an ebb and flow of angry bees buzzing in and out. Golden Ram actually rises for this one and moves slowly in place, waving about a large sceptre in ritualized movements, with a little imagination you can see where the movements are designed to symbolize the elements as he moves through the motions. It appears to be largely ceremonial as those versed in spellcraft don't see anything arcane or divine actually happening. For all the singing, dancing and instruments you don't notice any spirits or anything very spiritual really, although perhaps more fermented oat mash might help.
Finally there seems to be preparation underway for the final Ceremony of the Lake. The great drums are brought forward and the giant horns are placed in position.
Lucina watches the funeral pyre until they set it ablaze, she counts the bodies surprised by how many the other groups killed but tries to hide it. If able to get someone out of ear shot of the goats she would speak. "Do you think they are behind in technology or have spirits become a much larger part of society while we were away?"
Day 2 - Night
After the Circle Dance of the Elements, things seem to quiet down as people prepare for the final Battle Dance. As it is set up some of the shamans and elders tell stories about ancient goatling heroes, and regale those who would listen with mythological tales.
The giant horns and massive kettle drums are manned by their musicians. Golden Ram stands on his platform and waves his sceptre. Everyone seems to quiet down. He addresses the assembled group, speaking, strangely enough in both Goatling and your ancient Common tongue, speaking twice in both languages. You suspect he may be aided by magic.
"Normally it is not the place of the Chief to attend the Ceremony of the Lake, this is for the warriors to demonstrate their battle skills, to come here and with the shamans, find their spirit with nature, and in battle. This year is special. Fate has sent us visitors from lands far beyond our world. These visitors have tested our warriors in battle, and our warriors fought bravely. Those who fell in battle today will be remembered, and those who lived through the battles will teach others. It is important that we learn from these visitors, because beyond our lands there are others who would see us gone. The dwarves and their allies take from our forests and dig in the earth for its wealth. Our lands shrink slowly over time, because we cannot match their magic and powerful metal despite our battle skills. These visitors have shown us that we are behind the times. I will speak with the visitors in the morning and see if they are willing to help us in exchange for our aid to them. Before we look to the future we must celebrate our past, and honor our warrior spirit. The Ceremony of the Lake is many things, but the Battle Dance is the culmination of the event. Our ancestors look on and the spirits of the world will judge us poorly if we do not show bravery in battle, cunning and stealth, resilience, wisdom and fortitude. Let the world know that our ferocity is strong and that our enemies will tremble before our battle drums!"
With his final words, the drummers all at once begin a thunderous attack on their instruments. The ground shakes louder than ever before, and the mighty battle horns are sounded, in what is a near deafening blast. None of you can imagine a time or noise short of something magic, or that of a lot of exploding black powder, that something was so loud. The goatlings assemble and begin dancing their Battle Dance. Their is a manic, fierce frenzy to it. Their eyes seem to glaze over a bit, and their movements and footwork are sure and quick. The drums hammer out different beats, and the horns, both the huge ones and the smaller ones, accompany them. The power of the noise shakes the lake, and you can see the water at the edge of the shore vibrating as tiny droplets spring up on the surface and plink back down with each blast of the horn.
As the dance and noise reaches a crescendo, a patch of fog rolls in from the lake, heavier and denser than the mist that formed on the lake as the evening came and temperatures dropped. There is a sudden surge as the waves slap the shore higher and higher, and you hear a mighty roar come from the water. Something big in the water is coming ashore....
"They're behind the humans and dwarves... they said so a bit ago. I think. That they had better weapons." Maks offers, quietly, once the speech was done.
Maks slips to her feet as the chaos begins. She had been quietly listening, until the percussion began, which shook her from her reverie.
Miyu closed his eyes and simply felt it in his body. He seemed to be enjoying the music, and then comes the answering roar. His head snaps in the direction of the shore, and his hair stands on end.
Maks is a little slower to react, turning to see what was being drawn to the shore without the assumption of danger.
Lucina nodded at Maks answer."We shouldn't rule out both being true as well spirit magic could be their divine right?"
If Lucina could catch time with one of the goatlings that could speak to them she'd ask them about their societies view on combat."You're people seem to take great pride in combat, is it the act or protecting your own or winning that you celebrate? Or something more?"
Teniel casts Detect Magic, straining to see if he can make out any shapes within the fog.
Lucina, you are able to find Bowki in the fray, who just finished a large earthen cup of the fermented oat mash.
"Lucina, our people treat martial prowess as would one who dedicates their life to any art. There are those among us who do not do well with the martial life, and turn instead to craft, or herbalism, or as lorekeepers, artisans, or musicians. But many of us aspire to do well martially, because it encompasses both a healthy body and strong mind. Taking a life does not come easily, and it requires one of resolute will to strike that blow in a fight. There are many among us who fought today who are troubled that your people are flesh and blood, came in peace and where not a spiritual test. Some still refuse to believe, but most feel some pangs of guilt at striking you will you slept. Some take it as a sign that many of shamans died, that this was actually some form of punishment by the spirits for those who led the ambushes, but I ramble. Skill in a martial tradition takes on more than just the aspect of fighting, it requires a strong martial chararcter, to defend the weak, to be righteous, and sacrifice oneself in time of need. Many among us strive to reach this perfection, but few of us reach it. It takes a lot of practice, and not just any practice. Anyone can wield a spear, but it takes perfect practice to make a perfect warrior. Many of us do take pride in our art, but not a boastful pride. We try to be humble. We do not gloat in our conquests, and in fact we are not a conquering people, as you may well know. Most of the other races have pushed us to the borderlands, and even still, they wish to take more from us. But I am talking your ear off. Would you try some oat mash? Also, if you would, tell me of your people. What sort of mentor did you have that was able to bring together such a variety of people? What will you do? Clearly there are many paths to take."
Tavros listens to the stories in wide-eyed rapture. Despite his large size, he looks much like a small child.
When the battle dance starts, he once again eagerly joins in, soon loosing himself to the beat coursing through the air and in to his body. When the roar is heard, he joins Miyu in an answering roar, assuming it to be part of the ritual.
A voice echoes in your head "Fear not mortals, I have heard your music and I have come from the waters to give audience." Within moments of that all of the large bonfires are extinguished, and many of the smaller perimeter torches are snuffed out. A few peripheral torches and the cookfires still burn dimly. "Behold the power of water over all! But do not fear, I do not come to harm, to maim, or to fight. I come to see your gathering at my lake." A huge shape takes form, emerging from the fog. A massive scaly turtle slips from the water onto shore. Its shell alone must measure fifteen feet across, and its overall length my be even greater, although much of it is concealed by the cloud of mist around it. In the near darkness, several small fires illuminate the scaly beast ominously. It lets out a long deep gutteral rumble, seems to sniff the air, and its large eyes move about independently taking in the camp and the party. The goatlings have all quieted. The music has stopped and the dancing as stopped. Somewhere, one of the goatlings half whispers
After that the hushed whispers increase among the goatlings and they seem quite excited.
"I am Akluzzar, ancient and wise. If you would come to me for wisdom, bring a sacrifice and receive my blessings!"
Maks watched the beast for a moment, trying to discern what sort of creature it was, precisely. The concept of 'sacrifice' in her mind, was not something a good creature asked for.
She assumed a guarded stance moving to stand amidst her allies, edging her way forward.
Those within thirty feet of Makoto can feel their entire bodies enter a heightened state of awareness and readiness as she opens their ajna chakra, and their bodies become more innately intuitive.
You try to summon up your knowledge of various monsters you have read about or heard of, but you can't quite place anything specific about this creature or remember anything of note. Whatever it is, you are ready and your aura protects those around you.
Still drunk off of the revelry if not actual alcohol, Tavros absently pats himself down, looking for something to "sacrifice." Finding nothing of particular value, or rather nothing that it actually occurs to him to sacrifice, he shrugs and turns to look at his companions and the goatlings, cocking his head to one side to watch them with a relaxed grin.
Makoto would finish up her painting as best she could, before approaching the turtle.
"Hello, there." She offered quietly, taking in his sheer size now that he was closer. She was clutching the stone to her chest, though giving the still-drying paint space. "My name is Kasumi Makoto... and as you have probably already guessed, my friends and I are not from around here. You offered your wisdom in exchange for a sacrifice. It isn't much... but I've spent the day working on it. It's... to the best of my knowledge my clearest memory of our adoptive father."
"They paints I used would be utterly ruined if you were to take them under with you... I'm not even sure how I will protect it from the rain. But... It's valuable to me, as it is now." She says, tails swishing slowly. "I was hoping maybe you would recognize him. Or remember a monastery that once existed near here. Or its previous owner... Kaoo Lor. It's really all that we have to go on." She says, holding up the portrait to the turtle. Honeysuckle and Fish scents seem to waft from her.
Before turtle shows itself: Lucina nodded as he spoke trying to understand the depths of his words."So falling in combat would be similar to an artist creating his masterpiece or the like? Their greatest display to be honored." She would take some of the oats if offered but not start eating yet."Thank you, my people were all lost or in need at one point many of us races that where seen as evil or tricksters so our master took us to his home on another plane and set out to prove that anyone was able to be redeemed. But many of us come from very different backgrounds so it's not always clear how much of what he taught us stuck to certain people, as for our goal I believe most of us want to seek him out, he's gone missing. Some have spoke of trying to build so the ones seeking have a place to return to which is why we left the sky letters to warn them not to build on your lands.
After turtle: Lucina takes great interest in the turtle and tries to get a better look at it and casts detect magic on it.
Makoto would finish up her painting as best she could, before approaching the turtle.....
@Makoto:
The turtle looks to you as you approach, as you speak it begins to nod, and as you offers the painting you hear in your mind "Little one your artistic offering honors me. Your words though must come from within, for I cannot understand your verbal tongue. Tell me about the picture, merely just reach out and speak with your mind."
Before turtle shows itself: Lucina nodded as he spoke trying to understand the depths of his words."So falling in combat would be similar to an artist creating his masterpiece or the like? Their greatest display to be honored." She would take some of the oats if offered but not start eating yet."Thank you, my people were all lost or in need at one point many of us races that where seen as evil or tricksters so our master took us to his home on another plane and set out to prove that anyone was able to be redeemed. But many of us come from very different backgrounds so it's not always clear how much of what he taught us stuck to certain people, as for our goal I believe most of us want to seek him out, he's gone missing. Some have spoke of trying to build so the ones seeking have a place to return to which is why we left the sky letters to warn them not to build on your lands.
Bowki replied "Falling in combat is more akin to someone trying their best, giving their all and failing but doing their best effort, in a way the ultimate sacrifice to their art. There is no shame in dying in combat. Someone will always be stronger, or better." he ponders a bit after you tell the story of your people. "Your master must have worked very hard and had great faith in you. He must have loved you all very much. His sacrifice is very noble. None of you know what has become of him?"
After turtle:..[/ooc]
Maks repeats what she said, only attempting to send it mentally. It's just as meandering, perhaps more, however, since it doesn't have the brain-to-mouth gap.
"I see, he did and I hope he still does but no none of us know very much of what has happened which is why we are so lost."
Teniel, unsure of what to do, tells a short poem with his mind, the simplest one he knows from Goodwin's books which he can recite in draconic.
@Lucina: Bowki nods at you, somewhat sadly. "I hope you find your mentor. Maybe the great spirit can help."
You reach out and contact the voice in your head, connecting mentally to the thread of telepathy opened for communication. You begin to relate the poem and with the expressiveness of the mind aiding, uninhibited by words, you feel like you do a very good job artistically. While you have not performed telepathically before, you think you managed to do ok.
"Your poem is inspiring. As you can imagine, living in this lake, there is little access to artistry or culture. It is refreshing to experience the diverse range of abilities that some of you have shown to me since I have arrived."
Makoto speaks as she sends the telepathic words to Akluzzar, feeling more comfortable in the sensation of sound than in the sudden acknowledgement of words, "Do you mind speaking while you send me these thoughts? It matters little that I do not understand your words... I'm just a very physical being. I... think we can help you, but at the moment, money is something we don't really have. Do you have an idea of where we could attain these materials? A divination spell would solve many of our problems, if it is the right kind, I believe."
She pauses for a brief moment, "I could also cast a spell such that you could use your voice with us, if you preferred that."