Awenasa’s voice falters a bit when she pluralizes the word companion as she sees that Perey has disappeared. However, she continues on and tries her best to negotiate passage to find Eivind.
”if it sounds right”
The Shoanti shrugs, ”Not enough to be sure.”
Her eyes flick to each of the dwarves as they speak but she struggles to follow all that is said. At the mention of others, she wonders how many other people she is going to have to talk to in order to get to the Spire.
Finally, there is a question that she can answer and she does so quickly in order to move the process along. ”Yes. I would not leave my home to come to a city,” her voice has a note of disdain as she says it, ”if I was not serious. Why would I ask if not serious?” She can’t help but wonder how much free time that lowlanders must have if they chase things they aren’t serious about. One more thing she has trouble understanding.
The dwarf’s doubt in her ability to accomplish what she needs to once reaching the Mordant Spire gives Awenasa pause. Admittedly, she is just solving immediate problems and not future ones. In her mind she needs to get to the Mordant Spire. Actually finding Eivind or dealing with the elves once she gets there is a problem for future Awenasa. However, it does make her realize that this is something she needs to begin thinking about.
"Tell me, Awenasa of the Tamiir-Quah, do you have anything against fighting other Shoanti?"
Again, Awenasa’s muscles tense and her eyes narrow slightly. Of course it was not unheard of for Shoanti to fight Shoanti but it was not something that was done without much consideration. Usually it was only done after much discussion among the elders and even then it was because the quah’s existence depended on such physical altercations. ”Why would I have to fight other Shoanti?”
The dwarf with the knife holds Awenasa gaze for a long moment and says, "Because that is what the Iglishmek need."
The dwarf with the book raises an eyebrow and says, "That would be the matter of some debate. Perhaps more properly raised in a Relations and Aggressive Methods Council-"
"Quiet!" The first dwarf growls, never looking away from Awenasa. His two colleagues sigh and roll their eyes but they do quiet down and let their rather more assertive comrade take the floor. He still holds the knife in one knobby fist as he goes on.
"You offer money, but money is not what we need. What we need are some dead Shoanti." A pause, "What do you know of Riddleport?" Seeing Awenasa's face he goes on, "It is ruled by gangs, mostly human. The big ones are the Colors, no one messes with them. We don't want any trouble with them, not at all." A quick paranoid glance around here as if the table and floor have ears.
"But there are other, smaller gangs that roam the streets and cause trouble. One of them is the Screamers. They hate us and we hate them. Why is not really important but what is important is....they are Shoanti. At least, so they claim." The dwarf shrugs, "You look like a big warrior. You kill a few of them for us, scare them off, and many of us will support you when your propose your trip to the general assemblage vote."
These last few words mean nothing to Awenasa and part of her wishes she had brought Thak to 'translate'. On the other hand, the tone is clear. These strange people will more likely to take her to the Mordant Spire if she kills some Shoanti.
Awenasa contemplates her options and quickly realizes that they aren’t great. Her choices for getting to the Mordant Spire are almost non-existent to the point that the Iglishmek were her only option. Therefore, she needs to decide whether fighting other Shoanti is worth moving forward with helping her own quah since that is what they are asking. But it also isn’t as easy as just fighting other Shoanti because these dwarves wanted her to outright kill other Shoanti. This bordered on murder which is what is making her hesitate. Would her quah condone outright murder for the good of the quah? If she is honest with herself, this is a line she is willing to cross but not without a guarantee from the Iglishmek.
She locks eyes with the dwarf with the knife and states, ”Do I have your promise that Iglishmek take me and my companions to Mordant Spire if I fight these Screamers? Or must I speak with your elders to get such an oath?”
The knife wielding dwarf frowns but the other one, the one still holding the Shoanti book speaks up, "We actually don't need dead Screamers." he says, giving his ally a cold look before turning back to Awenasa, "More like...peace."
"Dead men have a hard time winning battles." The blood thirsty dwarf replies. "If every Screamer was dead, that would solve the dispute."
The third dwarf shakes his head and takes center stage saying, "Awenasa," butchering her name, "What we need is an end to a vendetta with the Screamers. This could be because they are all dead but perhaps more reasonable is a truce. Maybe you could talk to them, Shoanti to Shoanti. Perhaps no one else has to be hurt, let alone killed."
The knife holding dwarf snorts at this but says nothing.
Awenasa looks somewhat doubtful, glancing between the dwarves. ”Peace…if I make peace, you promise to take me and companions to the Mordant Spire?”
The Shoanti stands stoically and waits for the answer she needs before continuing. One only has to observe her demeanour to know that lying to her would not be in their best interest.
Once she has her promise, she motions to the others to join her and begins to ask questions in order to learn more about why the Iglishmek were in conflict with the Screamers. ”What is problem with Screamers? Why do Screamers fight with Iglishmek? How many Screamers are there and do they have leader? Where can I find Screamers?”
"Well....promises." The book dwarf says slowly, looking around. "Is a very strong word. I promise we can bring it to the others and vote on it. You'd have strong support but well, it takes the full group to decide such things. it's only fair if everyone gets a say."
"Right," The third dwarf says, "It wouldn't be proper to give such a promise, to bind our fellows to our opinion. It would have to be presented, considered, debated, and voted on. Properly, by the various committees."
"We'd take you." The knife wielding dwarf says, finally putting away the razor sharp weapon. "Little doubt of that, if you took care of the Screamers. Least we could do."
The other two dwarves stare at this, the reluctantly nod and shrug. They start to put their books away and answer Awwnasa's questions, "It's about market. We own a ship, the Collective and do trading runs, treasure hunting, a bit of passenger work, that sort of thing. In order to make a living, we bring our stuff here and sell it to traders and merchants, exchange it for money. Simple enough right?"
"Well, the Screamers have started moving in and saying we need to take our stuff to them, that they suddenly 'run' the merchants we used to trade with. When we refused, they beat us up or run us out. And if the merchants still try to do business with us, they attack the merchants. One shop was even burned down, after buying some old pots off us." All bearded heads shake at the same time, "It is getting worse and we have a hold full of cargo we can't sell. We just need to, somehow, be able to sell our things freely again."
"We tried asking the Colors, but we aren't important enough and apparently the Screamers have paid the right bribes." A dwarf grunts and then adds, "Not sure how many of them. A dozen or so maybe? Maybe two dozen, all told. Not that many, really. Most have lived in Riddleport for a long time, been part of other gangs. It is only recently the Shoanti have started working together."
"They probably have some sort of leader, but we don't know him. They don't talk to us, just attack us."
Awenasa's face darkens and her eyes narrow slightly as they avoid her request for a promise. It sounds like some sort of lowlander trap where she does all the work for them and then they do nothing for her. After all, why would they help her once they get what they want?
"How many others are there in your group? What are chances we go to Mordant Spire if I help you?" Honestly she doesn't think she has much choice because her options are slim to nonexistent; however, maybe her energy would be better spent looking for another option if her chances seemed hopeless.
"Where can I find you when I'm finished?" She again motions to Thak to join her and looks for the other two. She would need their guide's knowledge of Riddleport to know where to start looking once the dwarves gave them more information about the Screamers. And obviously she struggles to understand everything these dwarves say with their many words so hopefully Thak could make that easier.
"Tell me everything you know about Screamers. Where they are and how you know they Screamers to start. And anything else you think important." The last thing she needs is to go after the wrong people here in Riddleport.
The dwarves glance at each other before one ventures, "A full ship's crew. One hundred and two souls, although we rarely think of it that way. We are one single community, who operate fairly and evenly. No leaders, no masters." Awenasa barely has time to contemplate such a crazy and obviously unworkable idea before one of the dwarves ventures, "If you help us, we would take you. Or at least we should. We can simply not promise anything without consulting the others, it is simply unthinkable for us to promise something all must do. It is not fair or just. How could we speak for all, without asking them first?"
Such an alien idea. Is this not why quah's have leaders? Even the Wanders, wild and free, had elders they obeyed without question when need arose. Spirits, even the worst lowlanders seemed to have cities and gangs to listen to. How else could things be done? How else could a group react to danger? Did they vote when pirates attacked or a storm hit?
"The Collective is currently at Pier 23, berth 6." They answer her question of where to find them.
Awenasa glances around the smoky, wet and reeking tavern to find her friends. Thak wanders over amiably, taking care to avoid stepping in the worst of the rotting food, wet vomit and growling dogs. Skimp is nowhere to be seen, which is not surprising. The little girl has a true talent for vanishing in a crowd. The Shoanti wonders if the girl is up to anything she shouldn't be. This is an unwise place to pick pockets.
It takes her a few moments, but she does finally find Perey. The young man is standing along a far wall, stained with countless thrown drinks and minor fires. Next to him is a man with a strange instrument, a tangle of wires and wood, who is holding it up to the light, discussing it. Perey seems quite interested in the device, face lit with curiosity. Well, at least someone is enjoying themselves.
The dwarves launch into a confusing and multi-person description of the Screamers. Much of it is nonsense to the Shoanti but the following facts stick with her.
The Screamers are a fairly new gang to Riddleport, although various lone Shoanti are not rare. The place is a magnet for the lost and homeless. They probably only number a few dozen, plus some street ruffians hired for bigger events and extra muscle. They are currently controlling a few blocks of the city just off the docks, with brute force. They are unpopular masters and not only for racial reasons. Still, they seem to be in decent favor with the Colors of the city, or at last paying the right bribes for they haven't been muscled out by one of the larger gangs yet. The Screamers have the worse relations with The Double Tooth gang, a pack of half-orcs who operate in a nearby territory and are slightly smaller but even more brutal.
Awenasa sighs loudly as the dwarves try to tell her that over one hundred beings would agree to take her to the Mordant Spire if she helps three of them. Once again, part of her feels that the lowlanders are taking advantage of her but she has no choice but to trust they speak the truth when they say that they would most likely take her. Why did everything in the lowlands have to be so exhausting and complicated?
”Fine. I come find you at ship when finished. If you have trouble with Screamers then you probably have guards. How get guards to believe me when I come looking for you at the Collective?”
With a tentative agreement in place, Awenasa asks her questions and listens intently to the answers. Her frown deepens and deepens as the dwarves tell her about the Screamers. If any non-Shoanti were dressing like Shoanti then she would make them regret it. It sounded like this gang feeds off the mis-information that lowlanders had about her people in order to cause fear. If it kept others away from the Plateau then it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but if it made her people an unnecessary target of ignorance then that was a problem.
She makes a mental note about the rival gang that she could possibly approach to join forces with against the Screamers. Then just in case she was following the wrong rabbit trail she asks, ”Have you approached The Double Tooth gang to join against the Screamers?”
Once she gets the most important piece of information, where to find them, she nods and then looks again for her Riddleport guide. She would need Skimp to find these places. The first thing she needs to do is stalk the Screamers and learn what she can, much like one does prey out on the Plateau. The problem is that this isn’t her territory. She spots Perey and hopes that his lightened mood will last past her having to eventually interrupt his conversation.
Before the Iglishmek leave she asks them for a suggestion of a decent inn to stay at while in Riddleport. They appear clean and Skimp didn’t seem to really know about specific inns when she had previously asked. Hopefully they could give her a more informed answer than her young guide.
"We will tell everyone," The dwarves assure her, "Hiring a Shoanti? Will be common knowledge throughout our group in short order." Mentally Awenasa wonders if such a secret will leak outside the ship and what that might mean. She glances around the dirty crowded tavern, wary of danger. No one seems to be paying attention to them but isn't that exactly what a spy would seem like? Annoying lowlanders.
Iglishmek look confused at Awenasa's suggestion of the Double Tooth gang. "What?" The bookish dwarf says, rising from his seat and carefully wiping off some grime. "Why want less gang trouble, not more of it! The last thing we want to do is rile the streets up more." He gives Awenasa a strange look, "You aren't going to cause more trouble are you."
The dwarf who had the knife (although it is now sheathed) grunts and says, "Hiring her to make trouble is what we just did. Now, let her work."
When Awenasa asks for a clean inn, all three give her empty stares. "Clean? In Riddleport?" They say in unison and then start laughing uproariously. "Might as well ask for a dry spot in the ocean or a sunny cave!" But finally, after laughing long enough for Awenasa's face to turn red, one of them reaches into a sack.
"Here, take this." He hands Awenasa a small cloth bound book, faded and worn. "Divterll's Guide to the Enigma. It's a travel book for Riddleport, it should help you." The Shoanti glances at the small book and doubts it.
The dwarves leave and Awenasa goes about her next task, finding Skimp. This is easier said then done in the bustling, reeking dive. Her guide is so small, Awenasa is forced to look under tables, behind knees and every other wet, dank hole the place holds. After searching so long Awenasa wonders if the little thief simply left, she finds Skimp sitting on top of some rafters in a corner. The little girl has somehow purloined a loaf or bread and an entire salted fish and is crunching merrily away, watching the antics of the tavern from her smoky perch.
Awenasa isn't all that concerned about how much trouble she may or may not cause in her dealings. Her main concern is solving the problem just enough to get her to the Mordant Spire. She has no intention on returning to Riddleport in the future. All she knows in this moment is that she will do whatever she has to to get to the Mordant Spire.
The dwarves laughter is off-putting, irritating, and somewhat insulting. Since when is being clean funny? When she's handed a book instead of being told the information, she snatches it from his hand and then gives it to Thak. "I hoping for your experience and not words but book better than nothing. Will return when finished."
The Shoanti is not in the best of moods when she finally tracks down Skimp. She can barely stand the smell anymore, it is far too crowded, and she has just agreed to fight other Shoanti in order to save her own quah. Not exactly the best day. She sharply motions at Skimp to get out of the rafters so that they can leave. She then tries to catch Perey's eye and signals to him as well that they're leaving.
Skimp looks like she'd rather hang out in the smoky rafters eating her food, but one glance at Awenasa's stormy face convinces her that now is not the time for argument. The little girl hops down, after carefully wrapping her findings (crumbs and all in) in a dirty bit of rag.
As they walk over to Perey, Thak is already opening the book and peering at it in the gloomy, dingy light of the wet tavern. Awenasa notes the man seems adept at reading and walking at the same time, a strange but perhaps useful skill.
Perey sees them coming and, to Awenasa's relief, leaves his conversation without struggle and rejoins them. The young man is silent but in a lighter mood then she is, as they step out of the Stranded Seal and back onto the street. While the night air of Riddleport is humid, salty and filled with the odors of rotting fish and human waste, it is an improvement over the dank interior of the inn. She feels a spattering of water on her neck and glancing up, feels more on her face. A drizzle of rain sifts down from the dark overcast sky.
Thak puts away his book and says, "This book is quite useful, I think it will serve our needs nicely Awenasa. It lists a few places to stay where we are less likely to be robbed and eaten alive by various pests. The real question is, we have to find someplace to stay that will accept a reservation from...." he glances at Awenasa's towering scarred form, looming like a nightmare in the rainy street.
"Us." he finishes tactfully. "How much do you want to spend?"
Usually Awenasa likes the rain because there was something refreshing about it when out on the Plateau. However, rain in Riddleport is quite a different story. Somehow the rain makes the smells even worse and the streets even more disgusting because things weren't just wet but kind of slimy. But it was still better than being inside that tavern.
She grunts as Thak gives his assessment about the book. Then she frowns, "What is 'reservation'?"
"I only want to spend what we have to so not eaten alive by pests. I make sure we not robbed."
Thak gives Awenasa a long look, shelters the book under a sleeve and says, "I'll handle it." The Vudran turns to Skimp who is carefully picking out tiny bits of meat from a fish carcass. "Girl," Thak says not unkindly, "Do you know where Candlestick corner is?"
Skimp swallows, nods and says, "Yep! Why you want to go there? Colors run it."
Thak nods and indicates the book, "This book says an inn that will service us is located there. Clean, safe enough and probably willing to take in four vagrants on a rainy night." Skimp shrugs and leads them.
The streets of Riddleport on a rainy night are....unpleasant. They reek, they are full of slippery pools of slime and are dark as pitch. Even Awenasa, who has good night vision, stumbles on shadowy piles of garbage more then once. The only upside is that the chilly rain has driven most of the other locals inside. Awenasa guesses even the beggars and homeless are holed up somewhere in dry confines.
Still, the walk is not very far and they soon reach a somewhat cleaner stretch of street where the garbage is, at least, swept into neat piles instead of scattered aimlessly. Awenasa even spots a damp group patrolling the streets with lanterns rounding a corner.
Between Thak and Skimp they are soon standing in front of a rough looking brick building. It is too dark to even see a sign but Thak says with confidence, "The Glimmer's Rest."
The next bit passes in a blur for Awenasa. They knock, Thak does some fast talking and, after some money exchanges hands (and some dark looks at Awenasa) they are, as if by magic, suddenly standing in a cramped but dry room on the ground floor. There is one bed, but the floor is big enough for the rest.
Thak eyes the bed and Perey shrugs, "Shall we fight for it?"
Every pile of garbage that tries to trip Awenasa is met with a growl. The short walk feels like an eternity. The Shoanti isn't sure whether it's better to get off the streets for awhile and re-center her spirit or whether she should go looking for the Screamers. The sooner she finds the Screamers, the sooner she can leave Riddleport but being tired and wanting to punch everyone she sees probably isn't the most conducive to accomplishing what she needs to.
The Shoanti's face is still as stormy as the weather around them as she waits while Thak negotiates their stay at the inn. She ignores the dark looks and follows the others to their room.
Awenasa watches with interest as Thak and Perey discuss the bed. She is so used to sleeping on the ground that she has no problem with taking the floor. While she lays out her bedroll she offers, "You could always share it."
"Sleep now and tomorrow Skimp can take us to the Screamers territory. Then we study them like hunters study prey."
Thak looks shocked at the suggestion but Perey merely rolls his eyes. The young man looks at Awenasa and says, "Perhaps, but this is a strange place to hunt. I think I like it more then you, but even I feel a bit awkward in the middle of a city." He shrugs, "We shall see."
Thak coughs and says, "I am not huntsman, either of plain, forest or city. I do not think I would be of much use in the field, as it were, Awenasa. I'll be of better use in other ways, I think." The Vudran then adds, with his usual honesty, "And frankly, I doubt the Screamers live in the best part of town. If you need back up, I will accompany you into danger, but I would rather skip the slime and muck if at all possible."
Skimp merely grins, "You ain't seen real muck. Once, I snucked down into the sewers. That was a real mess." Thak visibly shudders. The street urchin, giggles and adds, "There are things living down there, big slimy things with long snakey arms.."
'Awenasa, make her stop!" Thak says in some actual distress, "I simply cannot bear to listen to this, not before bed."
Skimp cackles and takes the last bite of her fish.
Awenasa is secretly pleased that Perey gave her more than a one word answer to her proposal for the next day. "You speak truth in that I don't like the city and I'm not sure how well we'll be able to hunt the Screamers but we have to start somewhere."
She nods slightly at Thak's suggestion. "Do you have plans for how to be of better use? If not, maybe you talk to some of the merchants that the Screamers are hassling - like the one who bought pots from Iglishmek and then had problems."
Seeing Thak's distress at Skimp's vivid descriptions of sewers causes Awenasa to hold up her hand to stop the girl. She moves her hand in a downward motion a couple times, "That's enough, Skimp. But it is good to know how much you like messes."
Awenasa had wondered what dawn would look like in Riddleport. The Shoanti had doubted it would be the vibrant nearly living thing it was on the Plateau, a time of colored skies, fresh breezes and quiet thoughts. Her fears had been born out. The sky over her hiding hole was gray as weathered stone, thick with featureless rolling clouds. A steady but thin rain leaked from the heavens, cold and dreary. The entire world was wet, rotting and soaked.
Awenasa had risen before the sun, as was her wont, along with her companions (although Thak had proved difficult to rouse). To her surprise she found that their room also came with breakfast in the small but fairly clean common room below. The place was fairly empty so they were able to eat in peace, not that the food was much comfort. A lukewarm soup that seemed to consist mostly of fish heads and sodden vegetables. Skimp assured her this was normal food however, so Awenasa ate it without further argument. It was just fuel, and the sooner it got her out of Riddleport the better.
Thak had disinvited himself from the supposed hunt and promised to talk to the local merchants and traders, to learn what he could of the Screamers. He promised to relate everything he learned when they met back up later that day.
As they left the inn and headed into the murky, wet pre-dawn haze, Awenasa reflected. She had been hunting before she could walk, quite literally. Shoanti children were often carried on the backs of their parents to drives and stampedes. She had learned a lifetime of strategies for how to observe, how to study, how to learn the mannerisms of her prey, weather it be on foot, on the wing, or under the water. While the skills would serve her well, Riddplepot offered a unquie challenge, an aspect her life and training had left her unprepared for.
In the Land that breathed, it was the lack of motion and cover, that was the enemy. To avoid being seen was the key to success, to blend in to the flat landscape. A hunt often turned on a single hoof mark or print. There were members of Awenasa's quah that could tell, from a glance, how long a rock had lain in one place. Gleaning any scrap of information out of the hostile landscape was the foundational stone of any hunt.
Riddleport was the reverse. The place heaved with life and information, seething with people, noises and activity. Even at dawn the city was alive and reminded Awenasa of an anthill. Porters carrying baskets and boxes, tradesmen opening shops, sailors heading for the docks. The streets seemed packed with people, like a pond filled to the brim with hungry fish.
Even he back alleys Skimp took them too were crowded. People wearing tattered bits of rags for clothes, or even less. Some seemed to live in tiny shacks made of garbage or in crumbling ruins of larger buildings. A few gave them dark looks but Awenasa was tall, strong and healthy unlike most of the denizens of Riddleport's back streets. They passed unmolested.
Using the directions given, Skimp had led them to a crumbling building on a busy street corner. The bottom floor had once been a shop of some kind, shoes perhaps, but was now simply a den of squatters and drifters. The upstairs however was unused, open to wind and rain. The plaster walls were thin as old bread, exposed wooden beams sagging in the rain. It provided an excellent vantage over the street, giving total cover. Awenasa's old hunting masters would have dubbed it a fine hunting blind.
The intersection was cluttered with shops and stalls, selling everything from fish to candlesticks. How much stuff did these city people need? A Shoanti carried everything they needed in a bag on their back, and needed little more over a lifetime. These lowlanders seemed to do little more then buy, consume and buy more. Was this life for them?
One building in her view was not a shop however. It was of clean stone, well kept unlike most other buildings. It had wide stairs creating a open plaza like porch that fronted the street. Benches and chairs filled the space but were empty for now. Curious.
"So," Perey said sourly, blinking up at the drifting rain, "Now what?"
Before Awenasa could speak, something attracted her eye. There, down in the gray busy street, were Shoanti!
Three men emerged from around a corner, dressed like her people! They wore furs and leather that glistened in the rain. They all also had the heavy lines of tattoos on their arms and faces, the swirling black visible even to her high perch. One even carried a cruelly sharp hooked sword, a Shaonti weapon if there ever was one.
Then Awenasa narrowed her eyes. Yes, it was like Shoanti but it was all wrong.
They wore furs, but they were poorly done and underneath they had lowlander clothes. While one carried a hooked blade, the others had simply clubs and knives Worse, the hooked blade was spotted with rust and age. What Shonati would mistreat their weapon so?
More damming of all, were the tattoos. They were Shoanti tattoos, much like the ones that covered a considerable part of Awenasa's one exposed arms and neck. To eyes that could see, each one told a story, reflected her past, present and future. There was one that marked her as a twin, another commemorating her first hunt, yet another showing her family line. A skilled shaman would work for hours creating these elegant patterns, with some shapes handed down through generations.
But these men...it was just a blur. Some were real shapes or signs, but placed without care or reason. They were not linked in graceful swirls but simply ended, without purpose. One man even bore signs that only a woman could wear, shouting to the world that he had born three children while another indicated he was a powerful shaman who had retired to study the ways of the spirits.
What was going on here?
Awenasa feels a flood of different emotions as the three men emerge. First she is elated that she has found other Shoanti because it feels like a small piece of home in the vast uncertainty of the lowlands. But then her anger rises and soon leads to outrage as she sees the many insults in the way they are dressed and marked. The tattoos are the worst because there has been no thought or respect given to the great tradition that is Shoanti tattooing.
It takes all her will power to not jump down into the street and begin punching the disrespectful impostors. Years of training in how to master her body and spirit keeps her hidden in her hunting blind as she watches for where they go or what they do. None of the three look to be what she would consider to be a leader and so she waits to see if they will lead her to the one she really wants, the one who is responsible for cheapening and corrupting her heritage.
While Awenasa would like nothing more then to vent her anger and confusion at this disgusting city on this Shoanti actors, her hunting training overrides it. It was always wise to watch and wait, to learn and to plan, when stalking prey. Rushing rarely did any good except spook them. So instead of rushing down and breaking some bones, Awenasa waits in the ruined building for at least a little longer.
Perey peers at them and says, "They don't walk like Shoanti." And Awenasa realizes that is true. They don't have the fluid trained strides that mark her people, those movements instilled from birth to save energy while traveling endless miles. They walk like lowlanders, lazy and awkward.
Meanwhile Awenasa watches their actions. They are not casually strolling. The trio approaches a stall with purpose, pushing through the crowd with disdain (and sometimes with shoving). Other people shuffle away and give them space. Once they arrive at the stall, they begin shouting, waving their arms, slamming fists on the stall. The salesmen, a rather skinny man selling melons quickly hands over a small bag of coins. The Shoanti move on and, over the next few minutes visits stall after stall, collecting money in exchange for....nothing? What's going on here.
At one stall, the little routine is disrupted. The owner, a bent lady with graying hair selling dented pots, refuses to hand over anything. She crosses her arms and spits on the leader Shoanti carrying the hooked blade. The tall man grins and gestures to the others, who start kicking the little stall. The pots clatter and clang loudly, shaken by the attack. The other people in the tiny market ignore this, pointily averting their eyes. When one pot falls off a hook and cracks on the ground, the old lady slumps in despair and hands over some money.
The would-be Shoanti laughs and they start to stroll away toward the stone building.
Her eyes narrow and her teeth clench, through gritted teeth she hisses, "They aren't Shoanti. They are pretenders and must be ended."
If Awenasa wanted to choke the life out of the three men for appropriating her culture before, seeing how they treat those in the market makes her seethe with hate. "That is no way to treat elders," she spat with her hands clenched in fists. "And Shoanti care nothing for lowlander coin."
"They will pay for their actions," she vows as she memorizes every detail of their appearance. Admittedly most lowlanders looked alike to her but she would remember these three. She contemplates attacking them now but she knows that acting in such a rash and impulsive manner was always advised against during her training. She makes note of the building that they are moving towards and quickly assesses alternative entrances into it, a way she could sneak in to get a better idea of how many Screamers need to be punished.
Awenasa surveys the stone building with a careful eye. She was unused to such palaces of stone and brick, but the Shoanti was quite used to looking for weaknesses. How many canyon lairs had she watched? How many narrow slot canyons had she set ambushes in? This was no different. All about means of access.
The building was, if anything, the opposite of fortified. It had a large and open design. There was the main front door where, even now, the fake Shoanti were trudging toward. There was also a wooden side door, currently closed and probably locked. Behind the stone building, away from the road, were a small collection of wooden workshops and sheds. Steam rose from a few of them, and many of them had open doors, and connected to the main building by paths (covered and not). There were a number of back doors to the stone building. The main building also had sizable windows on both the first and second story, with the second story with closed shutters but the first floor were open.
The roof was steep and gabled, covered with the slimy stone shingles that seemed to cover ever house in Riddleport. Lead gutters guided the drizzling rain into long pipes and gushed down into the street.
Even though Awenasa is somewhat content in her hunting blind, a big part of her didn't want to let the Shoanti impostors out of her sight. She can almost hear the disapproving lecture from those who trained her as she motions to Perey and Skimp her intentions to follow.
Leaving her hiding spot, Awenasa quietly follows her quarry with eyes full of hate for their appropriation of her culture. She isn't sure how at the moment but she would make them pay for such disrespect.
She moves closer to the building to get a look inside the windows.
Perey seems content to remain behind but Skimp follows after, the dirty child moving with soundless steps that Awenasa has to approve. She has no idea where the ragged street urchin learned the trick, but Skimp is as quiet as any plains hunter. They descend through the crumbling old building carefully, avoiding any one in the bottom floor by simply crawling out a window and dropping down to the alley below.
As Awenasa reaches the main street she sees the fake Shoanti reach the doors to the large building ahead. The entrance opens up, there is some discussion and it appears the fake Shoanti are going inside. Awenasa gets a quick glance of a woman in the doorway, dressed in bright colors, but they are all soon swept inside.
Following her plan, Awenasa sneaks around the back, using the shacks and stalls as cover for her approach. Even if the stone building had guards on the roof, which it did not, she doubted they could have spotted her and Skimp approach. She finds a backdoor and, to her shock, realizes it is unlocked. After pausing a moment to consider a trap, Awenasa pushes it open. Looking inside she finds a very strange room.
It is a large one, with stone floors and walls, part of the main building. Barrels and cauldrons fill the space, some of them big enough for Awenasa to sit in comfortably. Many are full of boiling, bubbling liquid, and the scent of overripe bread wafts into Awenasa's nose, mixed with fruit and yeast. Many fires are stoked here, leading out of various chimneys and vents but even so, a haze of steam fills the chamber.
Awenasa is about to step inside when she realizes she has been seen.
A man, wearing silver and tan workman's clothes, is standing over one of the bubbling vats, with a bucket in his hands. He is staring at Awenasa, shocked and scared. The man looks ready to scream and run.
Awenasa takes in her new and odd surroundings for only seconds before she realizes that she isn't alone. Many thoughts go through her head at the same time. First she mentally kicks herself for not sensing the man's presence sooner. Then she wonders why the man looks shocked and scared because the door was open, meaning anyone could just walk in. Did this man work for the fake Shoanti? He didn't look like a warrior.
She contemplates jumping the distance to tackle the man but figures she wouldn't be able to close the distance before he could scream for others. Instead, she chooses to make herself look non-threatening by holding her hands up to show her palms. Stepping inside she calmly says, "No hurt."
The Shoanti points at the closest exit out of the room, "I leave, you stay."
The man's confusion boils away replaced by fear and....bitterness.
"I see what this is." he says, lowering his jug. "What, the rest are out front? Making sure no one leaves out the back?"
Over the bubbling steam, a muffled crash echoes through the wall leading tot he house. There is a sharp crash of pottery and a female shout of anger, following my hoarse laughter and more glass breaking.
"Gewn!" The man shouts then, ignoring Awenasa, darts for the inside of the house, racing for the door. "We aren't just going to lie down this time!"
Awenasa's nose wrinkles in disdain at the smell inside the room without even realizing it. She forcefully shakes her head and her voice drips with hate, "Not with them. They lie. They fake. I make sure they not leave out back."
Just when she hopes that the man may listen to her, disturbing noises come from further inside the strange building.
She swears in Shoanti when she hears cruel laughter along with the sounds of things breaking. The image of the men terrorizing the elder in the market explodes in Awenasa's mind and she has no doubt that they are doing the same thing to another poor soul. Her hands ball into fists and she bolts after the man. "Skimp, if you hear me, tell Perey there trouble."
Skimp doesn't say anything but Awenasa hears the patter of small feet vanish out the doorway. The Shoanti hopes the girl is passing a message and not just running off. The little street urchin is probably not the most reliable person out there. But there is no time to consider this as Awenasa sprints to follow the running man, who ignores her and throws open a door.
She is still chasing him as they enter a short passage, connecting the workshop to the main stone house. She has just enough time to marvel at the large stones, closely fit together and wonder how long it would take to build something like this. There were a few natural fortifications and caves on the Plateau that the Shoanti had reinforced over the centuries, but they were the work of generations and nothing as fine as this. What a fort one could make!
Ahead the man throws open a heavy oak door and passes inside, Awenasa now only a few steps behind him. Catching the door with one arm, Awenasa pushes it open and pauses, taking in the scene.
She finds herself in a large stone room, lit by several fires. It seems to be a tavern, like the Stranded Seal she first encountered last night but it is as different as such a place could be. The Seal had been dark, rotten and noxious, a haven for slime and stink. This place is clean, dry and bright.
The flagged floor is scrubbed and clean, dotted with bright wool carpets. Benches and tables are set in little groups, seeming to encougre friendly gatherings. Cards, game boards and dice are liberally set about. A long bar is set against one wall, made of gleaming dark wood, polishing so bright Awenasa can see her reflection in it. There are jugs, bottles and cups everyone in the place, on the tables, the bar, on little shelves about. All are clean however, fresh as if they had just been washed and dried.
But Awenasa has little eyes for this, and more for the occupants. Ahead stand the fake Shoanti, all three of them. Near them a table sits on it's side, the polished wood chipped from hitting the ground, tankards and glasses crashed. Close at hand is a tall women, leaning on the bar as if she had just been thrown there, rubbing a red welt on her face. She is wearing the same silver and tan robes as the man.
The fake Shoanti laugh as the man rushes up, hands balled into fists. To be fair he is slightly built and unarmed. One of the Shoanti catches his fist with the practiced ease of the bully, twisting his arm into a painful lock in moments. Tears of pain spring into the small man's eyes, mixed with shame.
'Didn't we teach you your lesson last time?" The Shoanti with the rusty hooked sword says, grabbing a jug off a table. "We'll do what we want here. You and your sister need to be better hosts."
Then he spots Awenasa and his grin fades away into confusion. "We aren't looking for recruits. " he says bluntly, "Now, get lost. I'm trying to relax." He nods to the other fake-Shoanti, armed with a heavy club, who takes a step toward Awenasa.
All the pent up anger that Awenasa had been suppressing as she observed the fake-Shoanti suddenly explodes upon seeing evidence of more dishonourable behaviour. No self-respecting Shoanti would ever act in such a manner. "Liars! You not Shoanti and you will pay for your dishonour!
Her eyes narrowed, "I not lost. I where need to be to make you stop, Woman-Who-Has-Borne-Three-Children."
As soon as the fake-Shoanti carrying a club turns toward her, Awenasa strikes like a coiled snake that had been poked. She launches herself into the air and closes the distance in a single jump. As she descends, her fist drives downwards like a careening boulder.
The blow hits the man like a thunderbolt, her first crashing into his skull with the force of a hammer. There is a loud cracking sound, the man blinks and then falls over, the club clattering uselessly to the ground. There is a moment of silence only broken by Awenasa slightly raised breathing.
Then the leader fake-Shoanti glances from his fallen comrade to Awenasa and then back. He carefully puts the tankard down in a table and says, "I don't know who you are, but you just made a big mistake."Then he swallows and adds, "But I get your point. Can we take Gilo there and leave?" he points the figure slumped on the floor.
"Not so tough now, eh?" The bruised woman says, her eyes flashing. 'Don't like it when someone your own size shows up, Riallo?"
The man with the hooked sword shrugs, never taking his eyes off Awenasa's rather imposing form, "We don't want any trouble with you, whoever you are. Just so you know, this is Screamers turf. I don't know what your angle is. Do you have a tiff with the boss? Some kind of tribal thing? Whatever it is, I don't want any part of it. Just let us walk away." His eyes were sharp and Awenasa had the feeling the man was brighter then she might expect of a random street thug.
Awenasa glares at the fake-Shoanti, "You make mistake, not me."
She looks at the man on the ground and then back at their leader, taking the time to consider what to do next. Why was it that no one ever wants trouble when they know they are on the losing side.
"Take off everything you wear and carry that Shoanti. Clothes, weapons," she motions at the woman to toss the man a wet rag, "and wipe off those wrong tattoos. It insults Shoanti. If you don't want trouble with Shoanti, don't pretend to be Shoanti. Don't lie and be mean to elders."
While they comply with her demands she adds, "I heard of Screamers. Nothing good. Is your leader Shoanti? If so, tell them they are no better than Ulfen! They treating these people like Ulfen treat Shoanti and it's shameful."
Awenasa visibly seethes as she masterfully controls her emotions by not continuing to beat these men whose very existence was an insult to her culture. "If you tell me where to find your leader then you can leave. And if lie to me, you will regret it."
The thug considers Awenasa's words carefully, looks at the still knocked out man sprawled on the floor, to the door and then back. Clearly, he is calculating his odds of simply making a run for it but is reluctant to leave someone behind. To his credit he finally shrugs and says, "Have it your way then. This isn't going to end well for any of us."
He spares a glance at the other man and the woman, who both have smirks. "Laugh it up, you two. You think you'll come out of this happy? Matoska will have this place burned to the ground, after this." Matoska...a Shoanti name, true although not one common to Awenasa's quah or region.
"We don't try to be good guys." The thug says mildly, as he strips off his clothes and weapons. The furs and jewelry are gone, leaving him (and his still silent friend) wearing little more then long tunics. Instead of strutting bullies they now look like rather poor laborerers.
Some of the tattoo's really are just smeared on paint and ink, able to be scrubbed off but a few seemed to be real. One, a swooping crest that indicates a mighty rider of horses, is set deep into the thug's upper arm.
"This one won't scrub off." He keeps at the others and says, "Not a fan of the Ulfen then? Well, neither is Matoska, although in Riddleport it rarely comes up. Here, the Ulfen tend to be rather lax. Let people do what they want. Riddleport isn't worth the effort." He wipes off a sign that proclaims he once saved an elder's life. "So, you are real Shoanti as well? So it is a tribal thing? Something from the old country? Here for a little raiding party justice? I warn you, Matoska is no push-over."
He straightens, wiping the last of the ink off his hands. "As for where you can find him, that's no secret. "The Blind Man's Eyes"." Seeing Awenasa's blank face he said, with a smirk to the man and woman, "It's a tavern, like this one."
The bruised woman snorts, "This is a holy place, of community and peace. [b]"The Eyes is a dungpit, full of scavengers."
The thug gives her a grin, "Bark while you can, Gewn, with your new protector here. But you know as well as I do, that this little dust-up isn't going to end well. Whatever tribal business happens, it won't change the fact that Matoska won't let this go. Your days are numbered." Free of all Shoanti effects the thug points to his now snoring comrade. "Can we go now?"
Awenasa develops a very small amount of grudging respect for the fake-Shoanti leader when he doesn’t run and leave his man behind. Maybe he will actually listen to her.
Her mind races a bit when Riallo mentions his leader’s name…Matoska. It was a name she isn’t familiar with but it certainly could be authentic. Although who could be sure when these lowlanders had gone through so much trouble to deceive the locals. They knew enough of Shoanti’s to bastardize her culture and fool the ignorant so maybe it was just a name they had heard at some time along the way to make their lies more believable.
Awenasa regards the mark that won’t rub off, again grateful that they complied with removing the offending tattoos without the need for further force. ”You really mighty rider of horses?”
The Shoanti’s heart beats a little faster at Riallo’s revelation that Matoska also hated the Ulfen. If she can meet with Matoska and tell her tale then maybe she can accomplish what is needed without laying waste to this community.
As Riallo tells her where to find Matoska, Awenasa makes a decision and begins to undo one of her braids to remove the interwoven string of beads in her hair that other Shoanti would recognize as marking her as part of the Tamiir-Quah.
Can we go now?
Awenasa takes a step to the side so that she is no longer looming over the fallen fake-Shoanti’s snoring body. ”You have kept your word so I keep mine. You leave but…” she holds out her beads, ”I want to speak with Matoska under rules of Shoanti for leaders of quahs who are angry with each other. Talk without violence. Him and me.”
She clears her throat and speaks over the beads in Shoanti because she didn’t want to trip over her words, ”I, Awenasa Keeper of Wind, request a meeting with Matoska, Leader of Screamers, to discuss terms.”
”Take beads to Matoska. Tell him Awenasa of Tamiir-Quah wants to speak. He choose place because it his land, not mine. I be here to get his response.”
Riallo glances at the tattoo and shakes his head, "Is that what it means? Huh. It doesn't look like a horse. But no, I've never ridden a horse. Do I look like a rich man to you?" The man takes the beads and places them in a pocket with such casualness that Awenasa almost punches him.
'What's that fancy word...Parley." Riallo says, nodding, 'That's what you want." Awenasa has no idea, and with Thak at her side merely remains silent. Let this man think what he will. As long as he passes the message along, she could care less.
"All right, Awenasa." he says, rolling the strange name in his mouth for a moment. 'I'll pass it along. I'll just give you a warning, Matoksa doesn't like to mess around, and he isn't someone to cross. I'm not sure about all this tribal stuff, but I've seen him kill someone for alot less."
With that he and his still silent comrade pick up the fallen man and, rather ungracefully, make an exit. They leave silence behind them for a long moment until Perey pops his head around the main door, Skimp at his knees.
"All's well?" The smaller man asks, "When I didn't hear anyone screaming, I figured you had it under control, so we waited outside. Didn't want to spook anyone." Skimp sniffs and says, "Or maybe you were just scared." Perey turns red and then pale but says nothing.
Then the woman at the bar, Gewn, speaks in rather more educated Common then Awenasa is used to. 'Just...who are you?" She stands tall and proud, but her shoulders are slumped and weary. "You are some other gang? I'd say you were copying the Screamers, but you play the part too well. More Shoanti hear of easy pickings in Riddleport?" She shakes her head, 'I don't care what you think, we are not...not to be fought over and won like pigs at a country fair. I'm done with all this protection. It's robbery and it stops now, even it costs me everything. " The woman is obviously very scared but stands her ground, looking Awenasa in the eye, chin rasied. "Whatever you do, make it quick. "
Awenasa looks horrified when Riallo admits he had no idea what his tattoo meant. "You allow tattoo and not know what mean? You lucky tattoo saying you bore three children fake."
Her fist closes reflexively when he treats her beads so casually but she forces herself to remain calm. She reminds herself that lowlanders have little respect for or knowledge about Shoanti ways. Making a fuss at this point may jeopardize him taking the beads to Matoksa at all.
Awenasa gives a snort that could be confused for a bark of a laugh, "No Shoanti mess around and all Shoanti dangerous if crossed."
She is just beginning to wonder if Skimp had found Perey when the duo makes their appearance. She gives a small nod at Perey's question and her body relaxes in relief of having familiar faces again. She then scowls a bit at Skimp's comment about Perey's bravery, "You wrong Skimp. Perey faced things that give you nightmares and he never deserted me. He does what needed. He wise to make decision he did."
The Shoanti turns towards the woman at the bar with a confused look on her face, "I am Awenasa, like I told fake-Shoanti." Then she shakes her head, "No gang. My Shoanti never heard of Riddleport before yesterday. I just pass through." Her confused frown deepens, "I wait until Riallo come with answer. How quick depends on him."
Awenasa digs out one of her gold coins, "Will this buy food and drink for us while wait?"
Skimp seems unimpressed with Awenasa's correction and slides into the bright tavern room, eyes searching for a dirty corner. There isn't much but she finally finds a nook by the fireplace, back to the wall. The little girl reminds Awenasa of a jumpy cat, always seeking a high place to watch others, always wary of attack from behind. Just how rough had her life been?
Perey, face red again, busies himself setting the chairs and benches back up.
Gewn repeats the name, "Awenasa. I like it." When Awenasa offers coins the woman looks at the gleaming gold, to the Shoanti's face and then back. Finally she shrugs, "I have no idea who you are or what you want but anyone who saves the bar drinks for free. Keep your money." She turned to the man who had run to save her.
"Bandy, go and get that ham from last night. I have it on ice in the basement." She pauses, and then says softly, "And thank you. For coming back." The man flushes pink then heads out of the room, mumbling under his breath.
"He's a good one." Gewn says watching him go, "Still a new member, but much promise." The woman walks around the bar and confronts the long wall of glass bottles of many shapes and colors.
'Shoanti,eh?" her voice is studied and casual, with a practiced air. 'Don't get too many passing through. Probably some kind of story. What do Shoanti like to drink?"
Then she stops and whirls around suddenly, and waves her hand, "No, I can't." her face grows more intent and wary, "What's going on here? What's your issue with Matoska and why help me? Traveling heroes are awfully thin on the ground in Riddleport, you know."
Perey looks up and says, "You don't actually trust this Matoska, do you Awenasa? Even if he is Shoanti, and he probably isn't, remember Wahkoowah Blacktooth."
No one of Awenasa's favorite stories but relevant.
It had happened hundreds of years ago, long before the arrival of the lowlanders and Shoanti lived where they wished,. Wahkoowah Blacktooth, or the Fox Mind in more positive stories, had been a mighty quah leader, both cunning and strong, a ferocious warrior. He terrorizes the other quahs with raids and conquests, claiming vast lands at his own. Unlike most leaders he did not simply raid for glory, but he did for power, adding new people's under his own quah. They grew many and threatened to upset the careful balance of power.
So news went out for the a great gathering of quah tribal leaders, the first in history. Never before would so many wise elders and warriors gather together. Many were wary of each other, remembering old grudges and vendettas. So all made a promise to come unarmed and with few guards. In addition a holy place was chosen, where no one would dare shed blood between clans. A narrow andsteep canyon full of colorful rocks.
They all gathered together, united by their fear of Wahkoowah. And thus they were all caught like rats when the Blacktooth attacked, having, of course, been the one to start the rumors of the Gathering. he slaughtered his foes like cattle and ruled the Shoanti like a tyrant for the next generation, the only man to ever unite the quahs. It was this precedent that had so paralyzed untied action during the lowlander invasions (and the Ulfen attacks still later).
During his long rule Wahkoowah never hide or lied about his coup for power. Instead he simply said the rumors that spread promised the Gathering would be safe from each other, not from him.
Awenasa shrugs and puts the coin away. As long as she wanders among lowlanders, she’ll never understand them. She is about to tell Gewn that she will pass on having alcohol when the woman abandons her original question for a bunch of others. Ones that Awenasa can answer but isn’t sure how much to share.
The Shoanti watches the woman warily as she requests answers in an attempt to understand. Finally Awenasa says, ”I need Iglishmek to take me to Mordant Spire. Iglishmek need peace with Screamers.”
”I watch fake-Shoanti to find out about Screamers. I don’t like how they treat elders here or how insult Shoanti by wearing fake tattoos and clothes. Me help you because I stop them. Me no hero.”
She glances at Perey and nods grimly, ”I remember Wahkoowah Blacktooth. I not trust Matoska and I know not all Shoanti honourable but I have to try. It’s that or fight all the Screamers.”
She looks out the window to assess the time of day. "If don't hear back by nightfall then know Matoska not interested in acting honourably."
'Should we try and find Thak?" Perey asks, peeking out at the sun rising toward noon. "Except, what if I get lost?"
"You won't get lost with me!" Skimp says from her secluded nook.
"Well, attacked by Screamers then." Perey adds, "Maybe not everyone will hold with a truce, not right away."
"They'll never catch me!" Skimp sings out and Perey rolls his eyes and says, "I'm not worried about you, Skimp. But they might think I'm mocking them or something. I look a little Shoanti."
Awenasa is not sure of this. Unlike her, Perey wears full Wanderer grab and his skin is already more like those of the lowlanders, inherited from his mother. Even his Common is fluid enough to go without notice, doubly in a mixed up port like Riddleport. Awenasa had heard plenty of accents worse then her own, here.
Gewn takes in Awenasa's story then shrugs, "That actually makes me feel better. I don't understand half the names you said, but self proclaimed heros worry me. Someone who refuses the title is probably better." She turns back to her bottles and quickly emerges from behind the bar with a brown bottle in her hands, along with a few tankards.
She places them on the table and comments, "It's good beer, we brewed it ourselves. Don't worry, it's pretty light. You won't have clouded wits, even if Riallo hurries back right away. It tastes good and besides, it's lucky."
The other man arrives, carrying a heavy tray laden with cold cuts of ham, coated with layers of brown sugar. Gewn smiles at the plate clatters on the table, "It's leftovers from last night, but still good. That's real Shackles sugar there, I swear by it. I got a deal down at the docks last week for it. Tastes so sweet." She takes a tiny bit and swallows it whole. "I confess a weakness."
She pauses, glances at Awenasa and says, "If you don't mind..."
Straighenting up, she places one hand over the bottle, another over the food.
"Caydean Cailen, you know better then anyone there are no real accidents. Lend your strength, your luck and your bravery to Awenasa Windkeeper this day. May this food and drink fill her body and her spirits." Then she smiled, "That's all. I only ask you save a bit of the beer in the bottle, to pour out on the ground. It's traditional, one I'm fond of actually."
Awenasa contemplates Perey's question for a few moments. Usually she needed Thak to help communicate but if Matoska truly was Shoanti then she didn't need the lowlander tongue to speak with him. However, it may be best to have everyone together in case they needed to make a hasty exit. Finally she nods, "Getting Thak good idea. We can also know what he find out."
She cocks her head to the side and regards Perey with a long, appraising stare. "It true you more Shoanti in ways that matter and you move more like Shoanti. But you also able to look enough like lowlanders that I think you not mistaken for Shoanti. But it may be good to not split up. I don't think the fake-Shoanti will deliver message and have answer before we find Thak and return."
But then the food arrives. Awenasa's stomach rumbles loudly. "Maybe a bit of food first, then we find Thak." Her brow creases as she tries to understand Gewn's explanations regarding the meat. Salt was the preservative of choice for meat and it wasn't sweet. She had a hard time comprehending why someone would want to make meat sweet but Awenasa isn't about to turn down the food.
Awenasa observes curiously as Gewn speaks over the food. She is unfamiliar with the name of the one the woman seems to be speaking to but the Shoanti recognizes the reverence in her voice. It reminds her of how the elders spoke to the ancestral spirits so whoever this Caydean Cailen was, he was important to their host. Therefore, Awenasa sits respectfully in silence.
When Gewn finishes, Awenasa picks up one of the bottles and studies the liquid contents before taking a tentative sip. It tasted like the back room had smelled but it wasn't completely unpleasant. She finds it more refreshing than anything she'd drank in Riddleport thus far. She is once again confused by the request but just adds it to the 'lowlanders are weird' category in her mind. "What ground do I pour?"
She then digs in to the ham and is surprised that the sweetness adds another layer to the flavour of the meat. The food back on the Plateau had been tasty but was viewed as having a purpose of fuelling the body to get the best performance output. The food in the lowlands seems to not just be utilitarian but also an indulgence. She would need to be careful to not stray too far from what her body is used to. "Thank you for your welcome and hospitality. We will go but will be back."
"On the ground." Gewn said, gesturing at the bottle. "Always give the last little bit to the Lucky Drunk. Doubly so when you have something important to do, which I think you do. I'm not sure what gods you worship, but getting another on onside can't hurt." It seemed strange to pour out the beer on the scrubbed floor but the lowlander women seemed to be serious.
Ah well. Crazy people.
They leave Gewn behind and venture forth to seek Thak. This is easier said then done since they only have the vaguest idea when the Vudran man is. He had given a few clues that morning, that he planned to question some of the merchants in the Screamers territory but that still meant blocks of shops, stalls and stores. Worse, such environments were not exactly Awenasa's forte. Several times upon her approach the storeowner simply locked the door and hid. Weather this was because they thought she was a Screamer or just scary was unclear, but it was very unhelpful.
They finally have Perey lead the way, doing his best to ask for Thak. This bears fruit and they finally track down the strange man. The store they find him is full of strange smells, tingling on Awenasa's tongue, almost like hot coals. Thak manages a graceful diplomatic retreat and they share information while walking back to the stone tavern.
Thak had learned a little about Matoska, but only a little. He was a real Shoanti, as far as anyone knew. He had been brought to the city by the Ulfen as a servant but had managed to earn his freedom somehow. Stories were numerous but non seemed very accurate. In any case he had built a gang on 'Shoanti' values and ferocity, quickly gaining a reputation as a brutal fighter and generally disregarded the customs and habits of the local gangsters. For example he had made his first mark by killing a rival on Market's Door, apparently a local holy day. It scandalized even other hardened killers, but Matoska seems to have prospered. He seemed to be a very private, reclusive type who did not join in the usual social events of other criminal bosses. No late night binges at taverns, or brothel bouts or even visits to the gambling halls. He mostly seemed content to rule his gang with an iron fist and plot his future battles.
Awenasa found this normal but apparently it confused the locals who were used to seeing such power and violence as means to end to luxury, not an end to themselves.
Gewn is correct in that Awenasa isn't familiar with lowlander religion but she is beginning to realize that this building is some sort of holy place, which made the request to pour out some beer on the floor even more strange. However, the Shoanti does as instructed right before they left to find Thak.
The search for Thak proves to be very frustrating for the Shoanti. What was worse is that she couldn't vent her frustration because the people in this community were already terrified of Shoanti thanks to Matoska.
She is relieved when Perey is finally able to track Thak down because it means that they would be able to return to Gewn and get off the street.
As they retrace their route through the community, Awenasa asks Thak a few more questions. "Did they say what quah Matoska from?" She snorts her disbelief at the next piece of information, "Ulfen don't have Shoanti as servants. More like slaves. And the only way to earn freedom is to kill master." Her frown deepens, "Matoska picking and choosing which Shoanti values to keep and which to dishonour." She sighs, "But not like anyone would know. At least he not fully integrating into Riddleport. But why choose city to live?"
Thak does his best to keep his blue robe out of the muck and swill of the Riddleport street but it is a losing battle. Already there is a thick band of stained grime along the bottom and it is only growing.
"Actually, I did find out his heritage." The reddish skinned man says, "One of the merchants considers himself an 'expert' on the Shoanti. A bit like how some people enjoy birdwatching and pride themselves on identification." Awenasa has no idea what Thak means by 'bird watching'. Did he mean using them as omens, as her people's elders and priests did? That seemed unlikely for lowlanders.
"The Sklar-Quah." Thak says while edging a particularly toxic puddle of green slime, complete with a dead rat floating in the middle. Skimp happily jumps in (with barefeet).
The Sklar-Quah. Awenasa knew of them of course. They were from the southern Cinderlands, a harsh land even by the standards of her people. Xenophobic to a fault, they never interacted with lowlanders except to kill them and even kept their fellow Shoanti at a distance. Savage warriors, they spent most of their time battling the brutish orcs that lived in the nearby mountains. A strange and reclusive quah, and, as far as she knew, Awenasa had never met a member of it.
Interesting.
"I can think of any number of reasons to remain about civilization, Awenasa." Thak replies. "Sanitation, a cosmopolitan atmosphere, eating inside." Awenasa did not know Matoska but she had a hard time imagining a Sklar-Quah being tempted by a soft life in a hole like Riddleport.
They reach the stone tavern where they left Gewn, only to see Riallo standing outside. He is facing the building where Gewn stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, refusing entry. The staring contest looks rather intense actually, and Awenasa wouldn't be surprised to see sudden bolts of lighting appear.
At their footsteps the Screamer thug turns around and raises an eyebrow.
"About time. What, did you go sight seeing?" The man mutters, "Matoska agrees to meet with you." He reaches into a pouch off his belt and withdraws something small and shiny. "He said this is a promise of idehesdi." At her side Perey raises an eyebrow at the word.
Idehesdi is not exactly what Awenasa had in mind. She had hoped for the usual peace and truce when two new tribes or quahs ran each other on the open Plateau, a time where disagreements could be discussed and prevented, and Shoanti generally did their best to be understanding. It was a useful custom and one that avoided pointless bloodshed.
Idehesdi was something else entirely. When violence between quahs was fated or unavoidable, it would not be a mass brawl or battle, like lowlanders. Instead each group would choose a champion, regulate strict rules and expectations and have them fight each other. Idehesdi was the word for when two such challengers met and discussed terms. Bloodshed and violence were strictly forbidden during such meetings but it wasn't a good sign that Matoska considered this meeting a prelude to a fight to the death.
Riallo held out his hand and dropped a single obsidian bead into her hand, which shone in the noon sun like a drop of dark fire.
Awenasa snorts derisively when Thak suggests that a merchant could possibly think he’s an expert on Shoanti. While she contemplates what watching birds has to do with knowing the difference between Shoanti quahs, Thak shares which quah Matoska belongs to. A lot of Matoska’s behaviour makes more sense now that she knows. Belonging to a quah that almost constantly is at war, some by necessity but some by choice, breeds a type of person who believes every problem can be solved by force.
Matoska belonging to the Sklar quah also makes her think that expecting him to act like Blacktooth may not be too far out of the realm of possibilities. She would need to be careful.
She raises an eyebrow at Thak’s assessment of civilization. ”What you say is not Shoanti’s definition of civilization.” Her nose wrinkles, ”There nothing civilized about city.” She motions at Thak as he does acrobatics around filth in the street, ”How that better than country outside city?”
As they approach Gewn’s tavern, Awenasa is amazed to see Riallo back so soon. She isn’t shocked to see the tension between the fake-Shoanti and Gewn even if she is surprised that they’re only glaring at each other.
Awenasa waits expectantly as Riallo speaks, unsure what Matoska’s answer would be. She claims a small victory when he says that Matoska agrees to meet with her but the raised wind quickly dies when he speaks the word she never expected to hear…idehesdi. Matoska was ignoring all Shoanti tradition and expected rituals by jumping straight to fighting, or at least what some would consider eventual fighting. Once more Blacktooth comes to mind.
If Matoska is already making up his mind that violence is inevitable then would he really listen to her? Yes, idehesdi may forbid bloodshed at the meeting but if Matoska has already jumped to the end of Shoanti ritual then can her words change anything? Is she destined to fight to the death? She has to believe that this is not the case or else why did she leave the Plateau? Matoska may want to solve his problems with fighting but she had a larger purpose than Riddleport, she needs to save her people from the Ulfen plague on the Plateau. Hopefully she could make him see this.
Awenasa closed her fist around the obsidian bead with a nod. ”Where?”
Riallo shrugs, "I'm going to take you there." he juts a chin at Perey, Thak and Skimp. "And you can bring the little parade too, if you want. Matoska says they can come with you, just not inside."
"A bit of an obvious trap." Gewn says from the doorway and Awenasa can't help but agree. Having a known enemy lead her into unknown territory to face a probably considerable foe is not something her mentors would have agreed with.
Then again, Awenasa had heard a saying among the Wanderers that seemed to apply here. "Need must when the evil drives". Basically, sometimes you had no choice. And that seemed the case here. Not going would destroy even the small chance of settling this without bloodshed and probably make it impossible her her to triumph. She really had little choice.
The Shoanti warrior grunts in vague approval, and her friends looks reluctant but realize the same as her. The only other options are probably worse. The fact that her options are worse then walking into a probable trap do not fill her with confidence.
Before they leave Gewn leaves the doorframe, crossing the stone porch to Awenasa. She sticks out a hand and says, "May the Lucky Drunk be with you. You'll need it." When Awenasa takes her hand, she feels something small and round pressed into her palm. The bartender gives a little smile and a wink.
Then Riallo leads them away, down a broad side street. Clearly he doesn't intend to take any of the filthy and grimy alleys. This is probably a good sign, as an ambush would be far more difficult in the wider and busy streets. As the thug presses forward, Awenasa risks a glance at her palm. A shimmering round bead rests there, looking like a tiny bird's egg. She gets Thak's attentions and shows it.
The Vudran man whispers, "Bead of force. Weapon."
A weapon? How?
Awenasa ponders this as they are lead several blocks across Riddleport, passing shops, homes, taverns (none as nice as Gewn's), and warehouses. They are drawing closer to the docks, and the smell of salt grows stronger in her nose, a welcome respite from the usual stinks of the city. Seagulls circle overhead, and the creak of ships wallowing in the bay sound. Were they going to meet at the waterside?
But no. Riallo stops in front of a low building, wedged between a potters shop and a fairly rowdy gambling den overflowing with people. The low building is made out of the same gray, semi-rotten wood that seems to predominate Riddleport and even from the outside, it looks wet.
Standing by the wooden door is a fat man, sweating profusely despite the day being rather cool and gray. He eyes Riallo, and then Awenasa. "Took you lone enough." he says peevishly. 'I had to kick all my regular out for this little...ceremony."
"Want to take it up with the boss?" Riallo says.
The man hesitates then shakes his head, "On second thought, never mind." He glances at Awenasa again and says, "Go ahead, it's all ready."
Riallo jumps in, "The rest of them stay outside. Just you. He's waiting inside."
Gewn proves herself to be a bright spot in bleak Riddleport. Awenasa responds, ”May your spirit guide you.” She clasps her other hand over Gewn’s and adds solemnly, ”Thank you. You fight for your home like I fight for mine. No stop.”
The true Shoanti follows the once fake-Shoanti into the street. She immediately scans her surroundings, looking for threats. Even though she finds no ambush, she continues to be on guard as she follows Riallo.
When she finally looks at what Gewn had pressed into her hand, Thak’s explanation of what it was didn’t explain enough for the Shoanti. She regards the small item with a frown before asking, ”How weapon?”
When they reach the docks, Awenasa is reminded of how much she dislikes the smell of wet wood. She trades one set of nauseating smells for a different one and once again wonders why Matoska would choose to live in such a place. Thak had said that he never interacted with those in the city but kept himself isolated and just ruled over his territory but surely there was a more desirable place to isolate oneself than here.
Awenasa glares at the complaining man, an obviously stereotypical example of what she had come to expect from lowlanders. She briefly wonders whether the man’s choice of words about everything being ready was a subtle hint of an imminent ambush. But then again, many Shoanti rituals involved specific items and environments so it is possible that this was all he was referring to.
As a member of the Tamiir-quah, Awenasa had never personally experienced an idehesdi and so she only has a vague idea of what is involved in this particular ritual. But she knows that there always needs to be witnesses. ”One of my people will accompany me as a witness to the idehesdi. Matoska has chosen his witness, yes?” She points at Perey, ”He comes as my witness.”
Thak has no time to answer Awenasa' question so she is left with a small hard stone and no idea how to use it. Hopefully the idehesdi will not require a weapon, and even in that case, she still has her fists.
Riallo looks discomforted when Awenasa starts making requests of her own. The Shoanti half expects the Riddleport to refuse, sneer or perhaps enter within to ask for advice. She doubted Matoska was the type of leader to accept initiative from his underlings.
But the man rubs his chin, glances at the fat man and says, "He's all alone? You got the place ready?"
The man nods, "I just had enough time to wash the blood off." The lowlander fakes a shudder and pulls a face. Awenasa is worried about the word 'blood' until he adds, "Luckily the butcher had a goat on hand."
Another moment of silence passes and then Riallo shrugs, "Go ahead. I'm not going to argue with someone who can lay Gilo out in one punch. Whatever tribal thing is going on, you can deal with it yourself." He gestures to the door.
Perey though looks somewhat less then excited and whispers in Awenasa's ear in Shoanti, "This is crazy!"
Awenasa reaches forward and opens the door, which is somewhat wedged due to swollen soaked wood. Worse the hinges are old and rusty, creaking loudly as the Shoanti forces it open. beyond the interior is dark as a cave. The fat man mutters something about the high costs of replacements but Awenasa ignores him and passes inside. Perey follows at her heels, obviously more then a little nervous. But he does follow and what more can one ask of a Shoanti?
It is so dark that for a moment, Awenasa's eyes are blind as they adjust. She tenses, knowing this would be the perfect time to Matoska to attack or for some other ambush. The Shoanti strains against the blackness, trying to will her vision into being.
The air is heavy and humid, warm as lover's breath. It is almost thick, water instantly beading on the exposed neck of her arms, neck and face. Or was that sweat as the warmth seemed to sink into her bones? But it wasn't the heat or the moisture that surprised Awenasa. It was the smell. It was not the half rotten fish stink, or human body odor Awenasa had begun to associate with Riddleport. No.
Incense. Gumwood. Acacia. Eucalyptus. The smells of the Storval Plteau, her homeland. She knew that some tribes had begun trading in such things, the ingredients fetching a high price among the lowlanders. Awenasa's tribe had not, decided such trade was too cumbersome and the scents too important for outsiders. Still, it was shocking to smell them here, in the heart of a lowlander city. What next, a namorrodor?
Slowly her eyes adjusted.
The room was odd shaped. While the walls and roof were wood, the floor was warm stones, cunningly fit together. On left and right there were small bays, littered with simple chairs and benches, with twin smoldering fires that cast a dim light. Ahead of her was a long straight channel cut into the floor, edged with dark color stones. The channel was full of dark water, with coils of steam rising off of it. The water seemed perfectly still.
At her side Perey makes an odd sound and she glances over. The small man gestures to the floor directly in front of them. There, on the stones, was a slaughtered goat. It was ritualistically dismembering, the feet and guts sitting in a neat pile beside it. The head, cleanly removed, stood on the floor, seeming to look up at them.
Then, out of the darkness ahead a voice rolled. "You were to come alone." It is Shoanti, spoken clearly but with a slight hesitation, as if the speaker had to pause and think before each word. "You do not trust the idehesdi? Have things fallen so far in my old homeland?" The water ripples slightly, but nothing emerges from the fragrant gloom.
Awenasa nods almost unperceptively as Perey whispers in her ear. She is still pondering what kind of preparations have been done when she pulls open the door and steps inside.
The first thing that hits her is the humidity. She doesn’t like how thick the air feels and expects that it will be suffocating and hard to breathe until she takes a deep breath. The smells of home hit her unexpectedly and almost brings her to tears as she is overwhelmed with thoughts of the Plateau. She takes numerous deep breaths, enjoying the smells and the familiarity of it helps to center her body.
As her eyes adjust and she is able to see her surroundings, she can’t help but be impressed with the preparations that Matoska has made. He has created an appropriate place of meeting with water and stone, and then there was the goat. Non-Shoanti may be horrified by what was displayed and think it barbaric but Awenasa sees the respect shown to the animal by how it was arranged. Much care had been taken to observe the necessary ritual.
Awenasa easily slips back into Shoanti and it is like putting on a favourite tunic that has been molded to your form over time. ”I trust the idehesdi and because of that, I have brought a witness. Shoanti ritual, especially as important as the idehesdi, must have another to bear witness between the affected quahs.” Formally she states, ”I, Awenasa Windkeeper of the Tamiir-quah, have come to the territory of Matoska of the Sklar-quah for the idehesdi. Perey of the Tamiir-quah serves as witness and keeper of oral traditions. Matoska, you remember the Plateau well, as do I.”
"A witness..." The deep baritone rumbles, pondering. "Yes, that will do." There is the sound of approaching splashing from the warm dark pool. At her side Perey tenses, feet skittering on the bare stone floor. Awenasa stands her ground however as a dark shape slowly resolves out of the humid murk.
A human torso appears in the water ahead of them, little more then an outline. It is hard to see detail in the darkness, and lack of scale from the still water. Slowly, like an animal rising from the depths, the figure strides out of the water on unseen stairs, hot water sloshing onto the clean stones. Matoska is nearly nude, wearing little more then a loincloth but it isn't the man's near nakedness that shocks Awenasa but the man himself.
Awenasa had grown up around very powerfully built men and women, a side effect of the Shoanti's very active lifestyle. Indeed, my lowlander standards, her people tended to be near giants, tall and strong used to heavy labor for long hours. Her own impressive strength had been an innate advantage during her travels so far, giving her confidence even in strange places. For the first time since descending the Shadow Stream however, Awenasa was forced to look up. Because even by her own standards, Matoska was impressive.
The crime boss was one of the tallest people Awenasa had ever seen, nearly seven feet tall. His long powerful arms and legs were covered in rope-like muscles, slicks with water. Steam rose from broad powerful shoulders framed a heavy neck, yet despite his size the man looked fast and agile, fully capable of explosive movement. Indeed, despite his languid stance there was an energy about him, a sense of pent-up power. Truly, a formidable opponent.
His exposed skin was covered in a swirling network of Shoanti tattoos, the real thing. Awenasa's gaze swept them, noting those she knew and some that must be particular to the Sklar-quah. Something seemed off about them, but it took her a moment to realize what. They were all the marks of a young man, on the cusp of manhood, not the fully mature adult (Matoska was probably a decade older then she) standing in front of her. There was a sunburst showing a first hunt, there were the linked knots showing a promised wife. But nothing from later in life, no marriages, or children, no mastery of a craft. It was as if someone had started a Shoanti life and then stopped.
Even more then his size however, Awenasa was drawn to his face. Half of it was perfectly normal, the strong chin and cheekbones that reminded her achingly of home. The other half however....was a ruin. Apart from his intact left eye, everything else was a twisted mass of old scars, folded skin and abraded muscle. The injuries looked old and faded, softened by time but still extensive. In a few places she could even seen barely covered bone lurking under the tortured surface.
"I, Matoska He-With_Fire-Inside, welcome you, Awenasa Windkeeper of the Tamiir-quah to the idehesdi." A pause and then, "As well as the witness, Perey of Tamiir-quah. The seal of the idehesdi lies on us all, and this prepared place. Let us remember well that the eyes of our ancestors are upon us."
Some of the formality leaves his tone as the large man eyes Awenasa carefully, sizing her up much as she had just done him.
"You are far from the Land That Breathes, Awenasa Windkeepr." he finally says, using a Shoanti name for the Plateau. "What brings you into my city?" The word 'my' is a strong one in Shoanti, rarely used. Collective words are more commonly preferred, doubly so in a formal setting such as this. His tone is strong but not aggressive, or even suggesting violence, although by Shoanti standards he has gotten to 'business' far too quickly. Had lowlander manners made an impact after all?
Still, at least he seemed willing to talk.
Years of training leads Awenasa to hold her ground as the immense form of Matoska emerges. To move that quietly through the water garnered her respect and she couldn't help but admire his skill.
Whether it was the humid environment or the immensity of Matoska’s presence, Awenasa suddenly feels warm and wonders if her body betrays the flush that she feels. She finds it hard to believe that someone as impressive as the man before her hadn’t had a place of prominence in his quah. She busies her mind with searching for answers by reading the tattoos on his skin. When she realizes it is like his Shoanti life stopped when he had been about her age, her breath catches as she is suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion. Her thoughts cry out, Will I ever get another Shoanti tattoo or will it be like my life stopped the moment I left the Plateau?
She quickly composes herself as her mind turns to wondering what had caused the ruin of Matoska’s face. Was it from some great battle? Was it the reason he left his quah? Was it the reason he was so ruthless or did he just hate lowlanders so? But if he hated lowlanders that much then why live among them?
Awenasa meets his gaze, aware that he is studying her in turn. There is no pity or repulsion in her eyes because Matoska is so much more impressive than his scars. In fact, scars were often worn with just as much pride as tattoos. She makes sure that her own tattoos are visible to his eyes. Some may balk at such scrutiny but she knows she has nothing to hide.
The Shoanti word for ‘my’ gives her pause for a second, reminding her that even though he held many of the Shoanti traditions, he had also embraced certain lowlander mannerisms and so she needed to be on guard – even though she finds herself wanting to like the man. Maybe in a different life or under different circumstances they would have been friends. Maybe if she chooses the right words, they still could be.
”The Ulfen caused me to leave home. They are intent on destroying the Tamiir-quah and struck a huge blow when they killed my twin sister. She communed with the spirits and guided us in our fight. Her death meant we needed to find another way to defeat the Ulfen. One of the elders sent me and Perey to find Eivind of the Heavy Hand.” She pauses for a moment looking for any hint of a response from Matoska before continuing.
”We were told that Eivind could be found at the Mordant Spire and that it was beyond the sea. Searching for the sea led us to Riddleport. Searching for the Mordant Spire led us to the Iglishmek, who are the only ones who know where it is and how to get there. The Iglishmek led me to you. I am trusting in the spirits that guide my steps that they will speak to you through your shared hatred of the Ulfen. I come before you to respectfully ask that you will help me in my task by making peace with the Iglishmek, for the sake of my quah.”
The man's mangled face is hard to read through the scars and misty gloom. One thing is clear however. Matoska is not impressed by her arguments. He remains silent, even though Awenasa gives him a few chances to interject or ask questions. Instead he simply silently listens while Awenasa finds herself explaining her entire mission. As the words run out, Awenasa finds herself curious what the man will make of her strange tale and mission. What does he think of her somewhat self appointed goal to save the Shoanti from the hated invaders? There does seem to be a flare in his eyes when mentions the Ulfen, a kindling of emotion. But no words. No reply.
Silence reigns, broken only by Perey's hammering heart and Matoska's heavy, regular breathing. A log shuffles loudly in the fire, and somewhere water drips slowly. Stinging sweat rolls into Awenasa's eyes, and she isn't sure if it the heat or her nervousness.
"Myths." Matoska says with a dismissive snort, "Legends." He turns and walks past her, not quite touching but entering her personal space. The towering Shoanti passes by both of them, heading for one of the chairs near a smoldering, low fire. The wet wood creaks loudly under his weight. His wet muscles gleam with reflected orange light.
"I did not bring you here to speak of stories for children, or to talk about dwarves." Matoska says, "The idehesdi is between two warriors, and we should speak only of worthy things."
He shifts in his seat, leaning backward, almost at ease. "You talk as if we are strangers meeting at an oasis, or passing on a lowlander road." He goes on in Shoanti, "But we are not. You have entered my region, the land under my feet. Then you interfered in our hunts, attacked my brothers without warning or provocation." The Shoanti vocabulary strains a bit to describe a criminal empire, but Awenasa understands. "And then, when I agree to meet with you, you speak of Ulfen warriors and dwarven pests. " The last part is said like a growl, "You speak of things you do not know. Perhaps you have misheard the voices of your spirits or perhaps your quah has lost their favor and they lead you into ruin." The last is, if phrased differently, one of the worst curses known to the Shoanti. To say the spirits have lost favor with a person or group is to basically imply theological disaster and personal failure. Matoska is treading close to a dangerous line.