"Aye, at least three days, dependin' on weather an'..." Wisp reaches under the helmet (giving rather the impression of the lizard skull eating her hand) and rubs her eyes. "Or are my numbers off?"
Meneas wakes up and gets dressed in his clothing - considering his scale mail for a moment, he sighs and dons it as well - there's no telling what sort of threats there might be on the road, as he well knows.
Coming out into the common area, he arrives just in time to hear the others discuss when they'll arrive at the trading post. "It depends on whether we can get horses for the rest of you." He muses. "I can help get a bit more speed out of others' mounts for an hour or so every day without risking harming them, but it does require us to, well, have mounts."
"But I am afraid I'm not able to help purchase any such mounts - I have no gold to spare." The hooded knight shrugs. "Veil can carry one more if we don't move too quickly - she's not strong enough to carry more than one of us for as long as I might like otherwise." Left unsaid but plainly implied is the fact that he will ride her one way or another.
Before the others awaken, Brental rises to walk amidst the morning dew at the outskirts of the village. Dawn has scarcely broken as he finds a small grove at the edge of town. He examines a bush and picks a small handful of wild berries. He then takes a branch that has fallen from a nearby tree and traces a few runes in a circle in the soil. He sits cross-legged in the center, eats the berries, and listens intently as the birds begin their morning songs. Inhale. Exhale. His heart rate slows as he ponders the life all around him. At the end of an hour, beads of sweat are beginning to form at the nape of his neck with the approaching heat of the day. Brental's heart rate resumes a normal rate and he stands, stretching to greet the day that is now in full bloom. He walks back to the Two Beavers as his stomach grumbles.
0 (at will) detect magic, purify food and drink, guidance
His companions now awake, Brental joins the conversation.
"Wisp and I should be able to call mounts for the three without. Though we'll wait until we're outside of town so as not to bother these folk."
"The sooner the better." grumbles one old farmer before taking a hearty swig from his mug and slamming it down on the table with a grimace.
It is quickly apparent to Brental that all eyes in the inn are on them and none of them look particularly friendly.
That would be impressive, Brental, and useful. - says Lorna, as she approaches. While she looks to be rested, there's always something on her eyes, every morning, that seems to suggest that her nights aren't truly of beautiful dreams.
Good morning, team. Let's break bread and depart, then! - she completes with a smile, and nicely greets the people looking at them.
Signy eats very quickly and grabs her gear.
"I'll be waiting out by the road."
Wisp is the first one to hop down from the table and start for the door. She's used to not being liked in places like this, but there's a reason she doesn't spend much time in places like this. She does make sure to bid farewell to Oksana, and places a quick blessing over the establishment's front door, if allowed—just a little prayer to the Will of the World imploring mildew and bedbugs to seek other dwellings, like the gateman's home. All in Druidic, of course.
Meneas tends to Veil before guiding her out onto the road, following alongside Signy. "Why did you volunteer for this endeavor, Signy?" He asks after a few long moments of silence.
As the party step out in front of the inn the crisp morning air greets them carried on a light breeze. The village bustles at this early hour with pedestrians hurrying by in all directions, old and young and all of them glaring at the new folks in town with suspicion in their hearts. Despite the frosty reception of the townsfolk it appears to be shaping up to be another beautiful day with the sun rising unobstructed by clouds or fog and a multitude of birds can be heard chirping to one another joyously over the hubbub of the morning affairs of the village folk.
"Oh, I didn't volunteer. This is a gift" Signy tells Meneas.
"When I was in Restov, I was spending a lot of time hanging around with the Aldori crowd and I met this guy Jurgis Albescu. We were totally boinking, but it turns out he had to get married, very important family stuff. Anyway, he felt bad about it so he gave me a charter to come on this expedition. He's pretty well connected I guess. It's a really good present, excepting this stop."
As they finish eating and depart, Lorna walks by Brental's side, a little behind Signy and Meneas. She chuckles as she overhears the inquisitor's story, as she feels it hits close to home; yet, she doesn't say anything, as to not interrupt their conversation.
Instead, she looks at the aasimar with curiosity.
What about you? How did you end up in the Green Faith? - she inquiries.
Wisp smiles. "Ah, my Brother Odd-Eyes is... erm..."
She trails off, her face going red. Belatedly, the gnome has registered that the question wasn't directed at her. Actually, she's not sure she even knows the answer.
Lorna extends her head from behind Brental, towards Wylhia.
Oh, I'd be curious to hear about you as well, my friend. And Brother... Odd-Eyes, is that it? - she says.
Meneas looks at the younger woman from within the depths of his hood. "A gift, hm? I hope it is not a poisoned one for your sake." He pauses, considering his next words carefully. "As I said yesterday, you will face greater dangers and dirt than simple spittle on your shoes."
Back on the road Signy is more than happy to brush the dust from that village off and look only forward to better places.
"Hey everybody, do you know how a village full of such nasty people attracts newcomers?... Trick question! They don't! They just make a new generation of cousin-sister-daughters and cousin-brother-sons!"
Signy laughs hysterically at her own joke.
Signy is surprised Meneas feels the need to offer a warning.
"Oh Jurgis is a sweetie. Maybe not a lot of spine, but that's his wife's problem, not mine."
"But that's the whole point isn't it? Bandits and so forth? Except this will be in nature...", Signy spreads her arms and spins around, as if presenting nature to Meneas, "instead of ratty dark alleys."
Meneas tilts his head in bemusement at the joke, but nods at Signy's response. "Hm, so perhaps not intentionally poisoned, then... But the wilds require a different set of skills than the streets of a city, Signy. Be careful. Things will be... different, I think, than you are hoping or expecting. Worse than you hope, better than you fear, perhaps."
He flexes a hand absently, before looking up at Veil. "That's why it's important to have partners."
Brental chuckles as Lorna tries to co-opt Wisp's nickname. "Brental is fine," he starts. "As for the Green Faith, I suppose it found me as much as I found it. I have long had an affinity for plants and beasts, more than most other pursuits. My parents are farmers. There weren't any druids who made their long-term home in Silverhall, but some came through to visit. An undine named Porphyra came to perform last rites when my younger sister died. Though we grieved, Porphyra made an impression. I joined with the Oakstewards when I came of age, and she has been one of my mentors ever since."
He overhears a bit of Signy's conversation with Meneas as well, but leaves them to it.
"And what of you?" Brental directs the question to Lorna. "You say you're a historian. Is that what brings you on this journey? To document?"
The road stretches out long before the party as they depart Nivakta's Crossing hoping it will be a long time before they see that insular place again. Behind them the sun gradually rises higher and higher and along with it the chilly morning air begins to give way to a more comfortable pleasant warmth of the mid-summer sun. The Shrike River continues out alongside them chugging along as if encouraging or intrepid adventurers along their way.
Some ugly looking black birds that honestly look half drowned, which some of you recognize as pygmy cormorants, squawk and float along the river's edge alongside some small turtles which float along silently or perch silently sunning themselves on rocks raising barely over the rushing water, their black shells with tiny yellow spots shimmering in the sun.
Other than that sights are sparse in this area, more and more the farmland gives way to open wilderness, largely plains with patches of trees and a few rolling hills. At one point Signy is fairly certain she say a black bear poke its head out of a group of trees in the not-too-far distance but before she can mention it to the others it's already gone.
Lorna extends her head from behind Brental, towards Wylhia.
Oh, I'd be curious to hear about you as well, my friend. And Brother... Odd-Eyes, is that it? - she says.
Wisp is still a little flustered, so she takes a moment to compose herself. "My mentor was a Kellid druid, and a... hard sort. He saw my knack with beasts an' birds, so he taught me the ways o' the Green Faith, the songs o' Sarkoris." She bites her lip. "We had different paths to the Will of the World, but he did his best, I s'pose. He died near thirty years ago. Bandit raid. I kept on teachin' myself, gettin' advice from the fey, from places a gnomeling oughtn't go."
She manages a playful smile. "Fairies aren't good teachers, an' they're even worse influences."
Lorna shakes her head in agreement with the druids.
Yes... I am historian. Not a very talented one, to be honest, but that's what I studied the most... And that's officially why I'm here. - she briefly pauses - That's the agreement between House Medvyed and the Aldori, at least.
She walks some more steps, thoughtful.
Of course, there's the whole thing about presence of power and the noble games... But at the same time, likely my parents also enjoyed the opportunity of getting me out of the house. - she smiles, as if she had just said a joke, but there's something behind her voice, giving it a little trembling.
Meneas hops up on Veil's back, once more giving her the strange air of wild vibrancy and power that she always has with him on her back. He looks at his companions as they prepare to embark, but keeps his focus on Signy for the moment, allowing his fellows the chance to discuss matters.
As ever, on the roads his senses pick more up, and he feels himself more alert and ready to react than he ever is off of them. He takes a deep breath, relaxing as Veil plods slowly forwards, keeping pace with the rest of the walkers.
As the group gets a bit further into the wilderness, Brental stops and breathes deeply, sighing out and clapping his hands together.
"This should be far enough," he says, not trying to sound ominous.
Brental grabs his staff from his back, a gnarled thing resembling a barely-hewn tree branch with a satchel of herbs tie to the top end. He stretches his right hand out, cracking his knuckles and tracing out a rune (for horse) in the air from the dust kicked up on the road. The he puts fingers to lips and unleashes a piercing, trilled whistle. Finally he brings the staff down into the dirt--hard. A wave of dust emanates from around them, filtering out through the grass and leaves nearby as though wind began spreading from Brental. A wild whisper goes out on the wind, calling the nearest wild horse to come and commune.
With a flourish he repeats the spell a second time, focusing in a different direction this time.
"They should arrive shortly."
Lorna shakes her head in agreement with the druids.
Yes... I am historian. Not a very talented one, to be honest, but that's what I studied the most... And that's officially why I'm here. - she briefly pauses - That's the agreement between House Medvyed and the Aldori, at least.
She walks some more steps, thoughtful.
Of course, there's the whole thing about presence of power and the noble games... But at the same time, likely my parents also enjoyed the opportunity of getting me out of the house. - she smiles, as if she had just said a joke, but there's something behind her voice, giving it a little trembling.
"Yeah?" Wisp's head tilts to the side—then she quickly straightens to avoid falling off the back of Brental's mastodon. "Nobles like their games, don't they? Well, it's their loss, dear." She gives a gentle smile. "I'm sure they'll come to more miss your company now 'at we get to enjoy it instead."
With this said, the gnome struggles down from the mastodon with unusual grace and begins her own ritual. Her method is vastly different from Brental's. Grasping her holly and mistletoe, Wisp drops to her hands and knees and starts almost kneading the grass, half-singing, half-humming. In Druidic, she implores the forest, the dirt, the beasts and spirits around her, asking with perfect sweetness to be sent a companion to aid her.
As she casts, the holly begins climbing up her arms as though alive, and her mistletoe roots itself into the soil, binding her there as if otherwise the gnome will be blown away by the rising wind. She doesn't wince as the holly thorns prick at her skin—or if she does, her helmet conceals the reaction.
At last, Wylhia the Wisp sighs and straightens, struggling to her feet with the help of her staff if nobody helps her up.
"Like I said," she says, taking a deep breath and cracking her back, "different paths to the Will o' the World. I haven't cast that spell in a long time. I think I convinced them."
Signy thinks Meneas means well, but the things he's saying make him sound kind of old. She's noticed it's a habit of many old people to tell younger people things they already know because it makes being old seem worthwhile.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Signy asks Brental "so what was all that about?"
"Oh, just trying to get us swifter rides than our feet. If we wait a few moments, three wild horses should arrive. We'll need to befriend them, but Wisp and I are fair at doing just that."
After a moment, he adds with a smirk. "Good for you, by the way. With Albescu. Sounds fun."
Signy snorts mirthfully.
"You don't know the half of it Brental. Some things you don't need much of a backbone for, you know?"
Signy starts scanning the horizon for horses.
Meneas is momentarily nonplussed about Signy's disinterest, but shrugs mentally. I tried. With that he examines the druids as they send out their call. Absently, he strokes Veil's neck, keeping a careful eye out for anything that might be coming - whether it is the mounts they've promised, or something more threatening.
Noticing Meneas's attention, Wisp flashes Meneas a bright-eyed grin. "Should be here any minute now, dear. Depends on how far they are from us."
Wisp is tactfully quiet on the mention of 'horses'.
Thanks, my friends. It's still an impressive feat, even if we have to wait some minutes! - says Lorna, giving the druids a thoughtful smile.
She crossed her arms behind her back and breathed deeply. This wasn't even going to be close to the weirdest stuff she'd be seeing over the next times, and still she was already amazed.
Spells were incredible - arcane or divine. She did know some tricks of her own, but her "spells" were based off her psionic powers; they didn't involve the words, components or knowledge needed by their counterparts, but actually sheer force of will and a focused mind. They were simpler.
Wisp laughs. She's clearly enjoying her magic being admired. "Aw, well, druidic magic... tiswhatis, dear. It's all about persuasion an' delicacy, compromise, silken words an' a gentle touch. If you try to bend the world around 'em so they come quicker, it's like stretchin' a spring. They'll snap back where they belong in seconds. Still, 'tis a lot showier than what we're doin' now."
After another minute or two three healthy mustangs trot up over the horizon growing slowly closer until they are upon the group. One is an all mare brown aside from a single white spot cresting its forehead, it seems somewhat shy backing away slightly whenever anyone approaches too close. The next is a grey stallion with black speckles covering its entire body, this one seems rather impatient trotting in place and shaking its head around. And the last is a pure white stallion holding itself proudly as its large brown eyes stare curiously at the gnome who called it.
Wisp glances at Brental, still a little chastened from trying to speak for him earlier. "I take the lead? Or each to our own?"
Easy, she whispers, her voice twisting through the Druidic tongue and making it something these horses can instinctively grasp, something rhythmic, melodic, sweet as honey and delicate as spun sugar. Easy.
We are not hunters.
Not wolves, owlbears, men with ropes
We are wanderers.
We would walk this road
alongside you, astride you
witness your swiftness.
We would keep you safe.
Protect you from wolves, hunters
in exchange for speed.
We would tend to you.
Find you food, give you shelter.
Brush burrs from your coats.
We are wanderers.
Let us walk the land with you.
Lend us your speed, friends.
Meneas examines the horses from atop his own, assessing their health and their relative stability, before looking to his companions and trying to determine who is likely to need which horse - who needs the gentlest, who can handle the most impatient, and so on.
As the mustangs approach, Brental bows his head deeply towards them, allowing for a wide berth. Then Wisp launches into a druidic monologue and Brental holds back for a moment.
That's a lot, though. Maybe too much.
Brental tries a different tactic. He first chants and intones, touching hand to chest for a gasp of nature's Guidance, and approaches the horses from their left, at an angle. He avoids eye contact at first, but speaks softly.
"What beautiful creatures, he says in a soft, low voice, keeping with the common tongue so that his allies understand him. He keeps his distance at first before slowly working his way in, reaching out a hand for the grey stallion to smell. If the horse is curious, Brental has stuffed a few oats from the breakfast table into one of his pouches. He can reach for them for the horse to munch on if this is going well.
The horses seem mildly proturbed at the actions of the parties druids and begin slowly backing away off the road with neither druid seeming to reach them particularly.
Meneas looks at the druids spreading his hands. Unimpressive, but probably not their fault. These are wild creatures, after all. He pats Veil's neck again. Not like you, my girl. Though they are impressive creatures in their own right.
He remains quiet for a moment, not wanting to disrupt the efforts of his druidic companions, before looking to the two human women. "I suspect that we may be in for a walk, but if either one of you wishes to join me, you may. Not both of you, though."
He straightens on the saddle, looking at the horses once more.
Wisp's cheeks flush with color. "Oh, this just isn't my day. Let me just..."
Brental blinks a few times, sensing that their initial efforts were unsuccessful.
"Wylhia," Brental begins. "Perhaps you could try speaking with them. More directly. I have spent my magicks on bringing them here, but..."
The aasimar breathes a few more unintelligible words on the wand while his hand glows. He gently touches the gnome's shoulder, offering a bit more of the Guidance of the Will of the World. "I have faith in you."
"... thank you, Brother." Wisp bites her lip. "I'll try it."
The gnome takes a deep breath. She tilts her head from one side to the other, as if adjusting her hearing. Then she starts talking to the horses—not in Druidic, not in elaborate Feyspeaker verse. Just... making horse sounds. Flicking her head. Nickering.
The language is almost the polar opposite of her previous approach—rather than appealing to the Will of the World through a melodic poetry, she simplifies her thoughts to a horse's understanding.
"Ask/beg/permission: ride/carried/travel-with.
"One-sun-cycle/one-day/three-mealtimes.
"Exchange/trade/gift = Us/walkers/my-herd guard/kill-predator/protect-horses + food-gather + comfort/tend/shelter."
Brental blinks a few times, sensing that their initial efforts were unsuccessful.
"Wylhia," Brental begins. "Perhaps you could try speaking with them. More directly. I have spent my magicks on bringing them here, but..."
The aasimar breathes a few more unintelligible words on the wind while his hand glows. He gently touches the gnome's shoulder, offering a bit more of the Guidance of the Will of the World. "I have faith in you."
With her negotiations concluded, for good or ill—though she has a better feeling about it this time—Wisp glances uncertainly at the others. "I've little eye for horseflesh. Does anyone have, ah, pref'rences on which horse they take?"
Lorna looks at the entire process with curiosity and admiration. She doesn't immediately responds Meneas' whisper; instead, she approaches the druids and the animals, trying to help calm down the horses as to "negotiate" with them.
Wisp smiles and flicks her head towards Lorna.
"My-herd/walkers gentle/not-ropers/not-hunters."
Meneas points out each of the horses to those best suited to them, respectively. "I'm impressed, friends, at your accomplishment. Druids always impress me with their abilities to commune with animals."
"Agh, I'm not so good with horses," Wisp says, smiling with false modesty. "Too feral, too human-touched. But anythin' connected with the Will of the World can be reasoned with."