Branwyn stops. When she turns to face Jorum, she appears mildly flustered.
“Am not angry at Bird-man,” she explains. Her voice is calm with a hint of sorrow, but not exactly angry. “When Bird-man hurt me, I hit back in way he wake up later. When I see dead woman, I understand. Show Bird-man mercy, is my fault next woman die.
“Bird-man is same as Mother. Mother lure man, make man make baby, make man meat. I love Mother, never stop loving Mother… but Mother is dead, cannot kill many man.” She points to the unconscious Bird-man. “Bird-man live, he kill many lady.”
Branwyn thinks a moment. “I do not love Bird-man. Do not hate him either. I deliver death now?”
She stands, wings behind back, dripping, drooping flower still planted in her now-drenched breastband, eyes fixed on Jorum. She is apparently awaiting permission.
"Cyrene's spell burned the creature," Valda observes. "That means it is an evil trickster spirit. Kill it, so that it will not menace any more tribesfolk, then let us return to camp."
“Okay,” Branwyn says casually.
Outside, she stands over the bird-man. He drowned that woman. Branwyn has seen a drowning before.
[The Barbarian] spits foul water from his lips. Turning his head doesn't help: that puts his face in the harpy's noxious wings.
He continues to pin the harpy beneath him, face down in the water. He looks to [the Ranger beside] him. "Uh, hey, you wanna skewer this birdie or cut her throat or somethin'? This is seriously gross, y'know?"
She grabs the bird-man’s face with her right talon, and takes his unconscious body to the murky water by hopping her left talon forward, then dragging Bird-man through the mud, then hopping again, dragging further, hop, drag, hop, drag. Memories of Sister held under flash through her mind, interrupted by other memories of Sister—ruffling Branwyn’s feathers, feeding her a piece of meat, showing her how she flies, singing with her, the last bubble rising from Sister’s open mouth.
Branwyn shoves Bird-man’s face into the water and holds him there. Tears again begin to trickle. She can hear herself breathing. Her thigh muscles tense. Her talons clench—
“…deliver it without hate.”
Jorum’s words echo in her mind. Branwyn pulls Bird-man out of the water and unceremoniously slits his throat. She does the same to the other creature.
She then returns to the others. “Is done,” she reports.
You return to the Broken Tusk following with the third basket of water. Pakano has already made it back by this point, trying to claim all the credit for completing your task. But when you report what you learned about the source of the ash in the water, Wipa praises you. "Good work. I know not what those distant fires or the drowned woman portend, but I will inform the elders.
"In the meantime, allow me to offer some more training. You will be going to capture the tapirs tomorrow. I have developed some new snares, and I want to make sure you are skilled in their use sooner rather than later."
“Am bird-of-prey! Natural predator—I help?”
Branwyn cannot build a snare, but she knows how to accidentally step in one. She offers a harpy’s perspective on how one might lure prey into a trap. It is actually helpful.
Arianda had been quiet with the business of ending the murderous creatures. It was dark business, but she understood it needed done.
When Wipa asked them to make snares, she was a bit nervous at first, but seemed to take to it quite well. That is, until she got to the poison snare. At which point she was being so careful with handling the poison that she lost focus and totally botched the rest of the snare.
Valda does her best, but only manages to successfully create one of the poison barb snares.
"Is done."
"Is done," Jorum echoes with resignation.
As they make their way back to the following, Jorum walks alongside the harpy. "I'm sorry you lost your family," he says. "I never knew mine. The following took me in when I was young. The closest thing I've had to a father has been Merthig." He chuckles. "At least I learned out to hold my drink."
He glances around at the other ladies.
"Cyrene and Valda are the closest thing to siblings I have," he continues, but then his eyes widen. "But not like real siblings; That would be ... weird." He looks away and his cheeks redden slightly. "I'd like to hear about your family, but you don't have to talk about them if it's too ..." He shrugs.
~~~~~
While managing to fashion a reasonable caltrop snare, the other two seem beyond Jorum's clumsy efforts.
Once the snares are crafted, Wipa asks you to intentionally trigger one of your own traps. The purpose of this lesson is twofold; those of you who succeed at avoiding a snare will gain an understanding of the trap’s limitations, while those who fail to dodge a trap will gain an appreciation for its dangerous effects. Wipa doesn’t pressure you to participate in this part of the lesson if you don’t want to, though.
Arianda decides to volunteer for the battering snare. Once it is set up, she steps in…
As they make their way back to the following, Jorum walks alongside the harpy. "I'm sorry you lost your family," he says. "I never knew mine. The following took me in when I was young. The closest thing I've had to a father has been Merthig." He chuckles. "At least I learned out to hold my drink."
He glances around at the other ladies.
"Cyrene and Valda are the closest thing to siblings I have," he continues, but then his eyes widen. "But not like real siblings; That would be ... weird." He looks away and his cheeks redden slightly. "I'd like to hear about your family, but you don't have to talk about them if it's too ..." He shrugs.
Painful? Very. But Branwyn thinks if she does not answer such questions, no one will ask. And Jorum thought to ask.
“Am four when Mother and Sister die. They sing to men, but men have friends. Friends have weapons, they win, they keep me, Other Mother adopt me. Three years ago, Other Mother earn wings. This mean follow her angel. This mean is dead. Father is dead too. He make me, then Mother eat him. Sister have different father.
“Is maybe hard to understand… I think Mother and Sister deserve to die, they kill Father. They kill many man. But I love Mother, love Sister, love Other Mother, love Burnbright—is human sister. I do not love Father, maybe is nice guy. Is victim. Harpy can never know father, is meal to mother harpy.”
Branwyn stares at her talons for a moment, then looks Jorum in the eyes. She feels a sentiment she cannot express, but she decides she must try.
“Am glad you are not Father. Because this mean Mother eat you, and is shame because you are good at father. I listen to you. Kill bird-man, feel anger, and know is wrong I drown him. Give quick death. Drown is revenge, quick death is justice. Deliver without hate, you say.
“Your word is gift, like anklet.”
At some point, Branwyn tests the battering snare.
”Ow!” Arianda cries out as the snare is spring and she takes a beating, staggering backwards and clutching her head. She waves off any attentions, though. ”I…I’ll tend to everyone after they’ve had their turn at these traps…” she says as she stumbles and falls on her behind onto the ground.
Branwyn watches the metal plate seem to expand rapidly—
The world is black and sparkly.
”Ow my face!”
"Oh, my words are clumsy like most of my efforts at ..." Jorum replies with a shake of his head. "... other things. I'm just passing along the lessons that Merthig taught me. Hopefully, some day, I'll have kids of my own that I can screw up."
He glances over at Cyrene for an instant before dropping his eyes to the ground.
~~~~~
Whether because his trap was rubbish in the first place or his fast reflexes, Jorum manages to avoid being caught by his caltrop trap.
Valda nimbly leaps away after triggering her poison barb snare. She laughs and gives Jorum a pat on the shoulder. "Good job!"
Wipa nods with satisfaction. She gifts a small token to everybody but Cyrene to commemorate their bravery: a smooth “worry stone” made of malachite. Each stone is worth 5 gp.
You now have the rest of the night to yourselves...
Arianda tends to everyone’s injuries before heading to the communal tent. She puts a cauldron over the fire to hear some water to wash herself with before stepping over to her designated spot and beginning to unbuckle her armor and sword belt.
Really showing your worth here, Ari. Great work.
Branwyn sees Jorum look at Cyrene.
“Oh, have thank-you gift!” Branwyn thrusts her chest forward. The mudlily has sunk into her cleavage and is now perfectly clean. (So is Branwyn. She is immaculate except for the filthy mudlily in her hair.) “You take flower. Wear dirty flower keep you clean all of time. Cyrene impressed, not dirty like many man, not have man-smell.
“Cyrene is pretty! Is nice! Not screw up kid, is mother.” She holds up her leg; her talon plucks the flower from her breast. She extends her leg to give Jorum the mudlily. “You take flower now?”
Noticing Arianda soaking, Valda makes her way over to the cleric. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Ari. Everybody gets hit in the face from time to time. The important thing is getting back up afterwards."
Arianda jumped at the sudden sound of someone speaking, and reflexively moved to cover herself. But once she realized it was just Valda, she relaxed and resumed wiping down her skin. ”I know. I know. This is all just so…foreign to me. I was trained in military tactics and the arts of healing from when I was a little girl. But…never on this sort of thing.”
Valda begins to strip out of her own armor and furs as she reaches for the warm water. "Nobody is expecting you to know how to be a Mammoth Lord during your first week!" the skald laughs. "We are all still learning together. You are doing fine. Your healing magic has been invaluable so far. Just give it some time."
“Cyrene is pretty! Is nice! Not screw up kid, is mother.”[/b] She holds up her leg; her talon plucks the flower from her breast. She extends her leg to give Jorum the mudlily. “You take flower now?”
Doing his best not to look at or think about where the flower was being kept, Jorum takes it with an appreciative node. "Thank you," he says.
~~~~~
Later that evening, the ranger seeks out Cyrene.
"I was hoping you'd like to join me watching the stars up on the bluff," he says with a friendly smile. "You can help me try out my first attempt at brewing." He holds up a wineskin filled with ... something.
Arianda tries not to look at Valda as she brazenly undresses beside her. ”Thanks,” she replies. ”Though, I can’t help shake the feeling that I’d be more appreciated in the tribe if my skill set was more…well…physical. Like you,” she adds as her eyes briefly wander Valda’s chiseled form.
Valda smirks at Arianda. "We each have our own strengths and weaknesses. When we work together as a team, we each complement one another. It is not all about muscles. Though, they do come in handy at times."
The skald flexes and strikes a pose.
Arianda blushes and giggles to hide her embarrassment, turning away and suddenly becoming focused on her cleaning.
Once finished, she steps away from the warm water pot and proceeds to start getting dressed as the cold assails her and her body begins shivering.
Branwyn hears the giggling and talking. She does not join. She does not need to because of the mudlily in her hair. She grew up many years pretending not to hear girls her age say she stinks worse than a boy, or boys say she stinks worse than a fart. The discovery of the mudlily made it easier for a monster to adapt to a human world.
Today was her first time seeing bird-people besides Mother and Sister are monsters. They are birds of prey. We are. We. I am bird of prey. She is thankful she was not raised to adulthood by Mother. It is hard enough to admit she has eaten men, but she has never killed a man for food.
She killed a bird-man today.
Is not friend. Can never be friend. Is dead. Maybe alive, still cannot be friend anyway.
Branwyn looks up and sees Arianda shivering. She says to her, “Are cold. Have warm feathers.” She shows Arianda how she can wrap herself in her wings like they are a cloak. “I help?”
”Oh!” she says surprised as Branson wraps her wings around her. She pauses getting dressed, due to basically being wrapped in a net of feathers, and replies ”Um…thanks…that’s nice” as she blushes furiously at being essentially embraced by a harpy while being more than half naked!
If Arianda accepts, Branwyn uses her wings to warm her. It is awkward and it reminds her of Sister caring for her in her earliest memories. Branwyn does not talk about the many feelings the contact gives her. She is doing this for Arianda. She is doing this for herself. The pain from today is partly healed by this touch.
”Are good healer, Arianda.” She wants to sleep like this. She wants to cry. She wants to sing. ”I move wing when you feel, is warm enough.”
Arianda squirms a bit within the wings, but the sudden warmth is nice. She squirms around in the feathers carefully as she slips on the rest of her clothes before turning and saying ”Thanks,” to Branwyn and stepping out once she unfolds her wings.
|
Later that evening, the ranger seeks out Cyrene.
"I was hoping you'd like to join me watching the stars up on the bluff," he says with a friendly smile. "You can help me try out my first attempt at brewing." He holds up a wineskin filled with ... something.
Cyrene smiles brightly and nods her approval, before reaching up to offer Jorum a small hand. Sabach waits at the bottom of the bluff, apparently capable of knowing when their presence is not required.
It's lovely up here. Cyrene signs slowly. I like the peace. Growing up in a city was very different.
She sips the wineskin and makes a face before handing it back. Keep trying? She signs.
Branwyn thinks she was helpful and that Arianda liked that. She is not sure what to say to the ‘thanks’ so she smiles and says nothing and feels dumb.
She thinks of the spear she wrestled for. She looks at the worry stone by her bed. Worry is gone. Why keep stone?
Not wanting to interrupt Naked Valda, Branwyn asks permission, “I take spear? Get rune?” Her eyes are all over Naked Valda. She thinks Valda would like to always be naked like harpies are always naked until they are adopted.
Valda turns to Branwyn as she enters the tent. ”Yes, take the spear to Argakoa the Songsinger. She will be able to move the rune to something you can use.”
The redhead notices the harpy’s eyes roaming over her body. She smirks and puts her hands on her hips. ”See something you like?” she asks coyly.
Branwyn’s eyes look at Valda’s eyes. Lower. Back to eyes. “Yes.” She lingers a moment. She smiles. “I go to Argakoa now.”
She turns to get the spear, lifting it with a talon and tucking it under her wing. She then takes her worry stone in-talon and drops it into her breastband.
She heads over to the songsinger…
She sips the wineskin and makes a face before handing it back. Keep trying? She signs.
"I didn't think it was that bad," Jorum says with a shrug, taking a swallow. He almost conceals his grimace before taking a second sip.
He shifts closer to the girl and pulls a soft hide from the bag he brought along. "Here," he says wrapping the blanket around both of their shoulders. It has the added effect of bringing them even closer. He grasps her hand under the blanket.
"You probably had different names for some of the stars in the city," he says, slipping his other arm around her shoulder. "Let me tell what we call them out here."
Thus begins a quiet discussion about constellations and their meanings.
Valda’s smile widens as Branwyn walks away...
***
Argakoa is the leader of Otter House and one of the following’s Mammoth Lords. The older woman is of Ulfen descent, and despite her advancing age, she is still hearty and hale.
She studies the rune on the spear for a few minutes before looking up at Branwyn. ”This is good magic. I can transfer the power to wrappings for your talons to enhance their potency. Leave the weapon with me, and I will have it done tomorrow night. I will accept that stone as payment for the reagents.”
|
|
Cyrene enjoys the warmth under the blanket and snuggles in close to Jorum as he starts explaining the different constellations and their names. A lot of them are different, but she can't help but like the new names more, learning them again is far better than the first time, in whispers from Birka while they sat awake in the kennels, waiting for the dogs to return.
Eventually she takes another pull from the wineskin.
Better second time. She signs, before standing up and climbing into Jorum's lap. Even standing with him sitting she isn't quite tall enough so she beckons him down and presses a kiss onto his lips.
Thank you.
Branwyn is fascinated by the very idea of wrapping her talons in good magic. “Rock is okay payment?” She lifts her leg, plucks the stone, and hands (or “talons”) the worry stone to Argakoa.
She says a word in Strix, bowing as she says it. She then translates the word: “Means ‘thank you.’”
She gleefully heads out the door. After some seconds, she peers back in. “See you tomorrow Songsinger Argakoa.” She pulls her head back and disappears into the night.
* * *
Back at the women’s tent, Branwyn strips herself of her breastband and waistcloth. She sits in her bed and cloaks her body in her feathery wings. She closes her eyes and sings a cute repetitive song Mother used to sing to her.
Gentle lover, gentlemanly lover,
Gentle lover, I'll pluck off your skin.
I'll pluck the skin off your back.
I'll pluck the meat from your front.
And your legs!
And your arms!
Bite your neck!
Eat your eyes!
And your nose!
Tear your face!
From your head!
Lover boy!
O-o-o-oh
Gentle lover, gentlemanly lover…
The next morning, you prepare to head to the copse where the tapirs were spotted. The young herder Imek meets you on the outskirts of the encampment. Imek of Falcon House loves animals and spends her days brushing out the woolly coats of the following’s domesticated mammoths. Other children bully and ostracize her, calling her a tattletale and a know‐nothing, though her nine winters make her older than most of her taunters. She currently lacks the physical strength or friends to stand up to her rivals, but she hopes to one day become a great mammoth rider all the same.
”Hey, there you are! Ready to make some new cute, cuddly friends? Let’s go tame some tapirs! Stick with me, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know!”
Imek is wise beyond her years, and she rarely has an attentive adult audience, so she’s eager to show off her considerable knowledge. As the group walks to the tapirs’ grove, Imek talks at length about the Broken Tusk’s herd, referring to each critter by name and describing their individual histories, personalities, and relationships with one another. She talks about how she met each animal and befriended them one by one until she had earned the trust of the entire herd. Unfortunately, the young girl’s lack of social graces makes the otherwise informative conversation entirely one-sided and utterly exhausting to listen to.
Branwyn likes the young girls energy. Her words are plentiful and complex, like a song in a language Branwyn does not know, and it goes on and on. She tunes out the words but nods and smiles a lot. She sincerely enjoys the girls energy. She does not know what the child is talking about, but she thinks the bullies are dumb kids and Imek is a genius.
Valda is just on the cusp of gaining insight from Imek's rambling, but she loses the thread at the last moment and only gets a headache for her efforts.
Cyrene's kiss leaves the young man gaping and speechless. It doesn't take him long, though, to recover. "You're welcome," he says with a grin before sliding one hand behind the halfling's head and leaning in for a repeat kiss. This one is less innocent and carries a little more heat.
When he finally pulls back, he leans all the way back until he's resting on his back on the ground with the small woman resting on his chest. He shifts slightly, turning her over to face the night sky, and adjusts the warm blanket to cover them both.
"That pair of stars is known as the Radiant Twins," he continues his lesson, pointing out a pair of bright stars so close together that they could be mistaken for a single body.
Jorum is happy simply expounding on the stars and feeling Cyrene's warmth against him.
~~~~~
Jorum does his best to following the child's ramblings. 'Doesn't this girl stop to take a breath?' he signs to Cyrene. However, at that moment, he realizes that something Imek just said made sense, and everything clicks into place.
"So you're saying that Behir really didn't like Simba and was just pretending to get closer to Crooked Nose?" he asks the girl. The revelation of understanding inspiring him to attempt to engage her in conversation rather than just listen.
Arianda proves to be a dutiful listener, and is able to tolerate and actively take part in the conversation with the herder.
__________
Arianda had decided to take a minute away from the tribe, walking alone to collect her thoughts at how her life had turned upside down in such a short amount of time. And the stars out here were truly beautiful.
And so it was, with the priestess casually walking and admiring the tapestry in the sky, that she stepped into the clearing on the bluff where Jorum and Cyrene were being quite intimate with one another!
"Oh! OH MY!" she exclaimed, blushing furiously as she threw a hand up over her eyes, then tried to look around for somewhere else to turn her gaze, accidentally panning over them again, then gasping once more and looking around even more flustered than before. "I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I didn't mean to..."
|
|
Then Arianda arrives in a flurry of noise and awkwardness, having clearly taken a different route to the one Sabach is on.
It's ok. She signs, trying to calm the southern priestess down. Jorum, tell her to stop panicking.
Hush! Cyrene signs back, its slightly sloppy though as all her attention is focused on Imek. The little girl is something of a kindred spirit and Cyrene always takes the time to listen to her when she can. They have a lot in common after all - although Imek doesn't have Sabach to help ward off tormentors.
Imek chatters all the way to the grove. Once there, she points the way forward. "Alright, those big, fuzzy tapirs should be just over there! I hope you learned how to take care of them! I gotta go, but I'll see you back at camp! Bye!" The girl runs back home.
Once you enter the wooded grove, you can easily find the giant tapirs' tracks.
Arianda determines that there are two tapirs, both young and strong.
The tracks lead to a small clearing on the forest floor. With blunt, prehensile trunks and a squat posture, the two giant tapirs resemble a cross between elephant and boar. You can see triggered snares nearby, and the tapirs have painful barbs lodged in their hooves. The animals are obviously scared.
“Are cute, but is sad tapirs are hurt.”
Branwyn thinks getting the barbs out will help. As a natural predator, is there something she recalls about approaching injured young separated from the herd for a mercifully quick kill they do not see coming?—or, in this case, a quick rescue so take-out-thorn is faster than get-kicked?
After an hour or so of calmly interacting with the tapirs, Cyrene manages to tame the pair. Branwyn approaches and expertly removes the barbs from their hooves. The animals take a few tentative steps to test their gait, then they charge at Branwyn to nuzzle her in gratitude!
Studying the snares here, you can see they look similar to the ones the Broken Tusks craft, but the poison used comes from a plant that grows higher in the mountains to the east. Besides, none of the Broken Tusks have set traps in this grove. You notice two pairs of human footprints in the mossy grass...
Branwyn thinks she can figure out where the people are who set the traps. Whether or not she should is for a smart person to decide.
“We follow?” She eyes the various members of the team, Arianda included, as she more or less asks permission or for opinions.
If the decision is to follow, she does her part to explain to the others how stealthy is a natural predator, such as herself and her mother and a long line of man-hunting harpies.
“Am sneaky.”
If nothing else, Branwyn is honest!
He shifts the blanket to offer her a place, as well as to show that there's nothing unseemly happening.
"Here, it's warm under the blanket. Come join us."
~~~~~
Jorum does his best to assist the halfling, but his larger semi-lumbering form doesn't instill the sense of safety that hers does.
~~~~~
"We follow," Jorum responds to Branwyn with a wink.