Arianda joins Cyrene on the taming venture, eager to put what she learned from the child to use.
__________
Arianda nods as the others state they are following the tracks. She does so, clumsily.
__________
Though, the earlier warning about Jorum echoed in her head…
”Thanks,” she muttered. She looked up at the stars too, saying ”They really are lovely up here.”
Branwyn leads the group in following the tracks further into the forest. You travel for about a mile when the harpy hears people approaching. You do your best to remain hidden and quiet as a pair of Kellid women appear on the path ahead. The women have burn scars on their faces like those on the dead hunter in the bird-man's lair.
Branwyn and Cyrene are able to get the drop on them!
Branwyn ▶️steps into the open and says to the Kellid women. “We find woman same mark as you. Bird-man kill her; I kill bird-man.
“Not enemy. We talk?”
She holds her wings up to show she is not armed. (She has seen humans do this to put other humans at ease.)
Branwyn is not at ease. She is afraid the women see her as a monster.
|
"Indeed." Sabach says, stepping out into the path to join Branwyn. "We found a fellow of yours already dead. If you seek direction to the body we can offer aid that you may conduct your funeral rites."
The angel doesn't have any weapons yet, but that doesn't mean anything. Cyrene meanwhile stays in the undergrowth - there's nothing she can say or do in this situation (or generally).
The hunters respond to your attempt at parlay by drawing their spears and rushing Branwyn!
"Now where was I?" he says in a soft voice. "Oh, yes, the Radiant Twins ..." He continues the story he was relaying to Cyrene about how the Twins represent forbidden love. As the night grows cooler, he offers an arm around Arianda's shoulder as well to keep her warm.
~~~~~
Jorum picks out one of the women as his prey and approaches her with death in his eyes.
“Are crazy lady!”
Branwyn tries to take down whichever foe her friends softened.
She then ▶️steps out of flank position, and ▶️steps out of melee reach.
Valda inspires courage as she moves in to help Branwyn. Her axe cuts into the other Kellid woman's side, then Branwyn knocks her out with a kick! Sabach and Jorum gang up on the other hunter, and she quickly falls as well.
The Kellid women have features not dissimilar to many of the human Broken Tusk followers. However, they bear obvious signs of a far more violent lifestyle; on their faces, each has a large, jagged burn scar. The scars are bright red, as if freshly made, and shaped like claw marks. They’re too elaborate to have been accidental.
Arianda can deduce someone else applied the burns with the use of iron, burning oil, and red dye, but there was little (if any) aftercare. The scars have healed unevenly.
One of the hunters has a holly bush feather token.
Branwyn says to Arianda, “They hurt me, but I forgive. Can save her?” Branwyn points to the one dropped by a blade. As for the one she and Valda took down, “I knock out. Maybe they think, am same as bird-man. Maybe they deserve die. Maybe become crazy lady from burn.
“Mother raise me, eat man. Cannot hate lady for thinking, am monster.” She points to her heart with her wingtip. “Am monster.” She says this because it is a fact. For all the emotion she has displayed lately, when calling herself a monster, she does not seem bothered. It is the truth.
Arianda studies the fallen. ”Yes…I can save them. But, should we restrain them first? For questioning? These markings…they are purposeful and insinuate a violent life. Which means these people may be a warfarin tribe, and that means more of them…”
Valda sets to work binding the hunters' wrists. Once they are secured, Arianda rouses one from unconsciousness. However, the surly woman simply sneers at you and refuses to talk.
“Am monster. You talk now?”
Branwyn spent the past decade learning how not to frighten people. She is a monster. She is also a girl, gentler, prettier, and less hardened than the scarred huntresses. (And she knows this.)
"And while she may be a cute, not-very-scary monster," Jorum adds, "She has friends with sharp objects that won't hesitate to use them if the need arises."
Arianda sighs. She then leans in close to the conscious one, and whispers into their ear so only they can hear, before leaning back and folding her hands across her lap.
The woman glances between Jorum and Arianda. "Fine. I am Wola. She is Kukutsi," she says, indicating her unconscious companion. "We are part of a war band, the most powerful following west of the Tusk Mountains. We have traveled far to get meat; the war band has already exhausted nearby sources. We were on our way to check our snares when you attacked us."
“Am Branwyn,” Branwyn replies introduction-first, minding her manners. “Wola, is mistake. Did not attack you. I try explain… I try again.
“Yesterday find woman, have your marking.” She points her wingtip at the burn-scars on Kukutsi’s face. “Is dead, bird-man and water-trickster-spirit drown her. I kill them, is vengeance for your friend.” She gives Jorum a guilty look. “I mean, is justice.”
Even though she thinks it is clear she is not like the bird-man, maybe Wola cannot tell the difference.
“Am not same as bird-man. Is true, am monster. Is why I think is wrong we kill you, even though you stab me, am only talking, tell you am not enemy. You hurt me, I still say not enemy. Is mistake.”
Brawnwyn is relieved the woman thought she was a monster attacking. Had Wola not spoken, Branwyn would wonder if she killed an innocent bird-man. Now she thinks she let the right people live.
“Not enemy,” she repeats. “You believe, is true?”
"Hmph. Fine," Wola says. "If you're not our enemies, then let us go."
Branwyn does not want to keep the women. But… war band. Exhausted resources. These terms disturb her.
“Is strange. I see dead woman with your marking, am sad, am angry. I kill bird-man. Bird-man is first bird-person I see long time, but I kill him not because he hurt me. I kill him because drowned woman in lair, think he live, he drown more woman.”
Branwyn cannot understand her feeling. She will not kill Wola and Kukutsi. She hopes her friends will not.
“Something not right, is wrong, is feeling.” She looks at Kukutsi. She is breathing, not bloated and dead like the drowned woman. Like Sister. “Why you not bother, your kin is dead?”
Wola shrugs. "One of our scouts went missing the other day. Musa. That was probably her you found. Didn't know her that well. She was stupid for going off on her own, though, and if she got herself killed, that's her own fault."
Branwyn is sad from these words. She looks at Wola with sad eyes and pursed lips. “Why dishonor Musa?”
She headbutts Wola, knocking her out.
Valda makes sure Branwyn is okay, then she looks down at the unconscious women. "We should leave them here. They attacked us, yes, but I do not think that enough warrants death. The following isn't really equipped to take on prisoners. Hopefully, they have learned their lesson not to mess with the Broken Tusks."
”Really? I mean, they did say they were a war band. If we leave them, don’t you think they might come looking for revenge?” Arianda counters.
Valda frowns. "Hmm. This is true. Followings do cross paths on occasion, though they tend to respect each other’s space. Perhaps we take them back so that the elders can question them, then."
Branwyn smiles. She did not think Valda and Arianda could discuss the women’s fates if they were awake.
“Maybe elder can tell women how not exhaust resource. War with us is bad idea. We win, but how many die? Is better war band not have war.”
She looks in the direction of the tapirs. “Good thing Wola and Kukutsi caught tapirs for us. Tapirs can carry them, is one each!”
Branwyn is cheerful. This is because nobody is saying these women should die. “We go back now?”
|
|
Cyrene nods her agreement as Sabach hefts each woman easily onto a tapir. "This war band is a dangerous development." The angel says. "Most followings are not violent, but most do not profess war-like tendencies either. The elders should be careful. These women were fighting to kill."
Cyrene meanwhile focuses on the tapirs. The large animals are already finding a place in her heart and she has to sign repeatedly to Jorum until he understands the names she's chosen. The tapirs are to be forevermore known as 'Willow' and 'Taffy'.
You carry the unconscious hunters with you as you return to the Broken Tusk camp. The elders question the women for a while, and after stripping them of their equipment, they send the hunters on their way with a stern warning not to mess with the Broken Tusks further.
As they leave, however, you can tell there is an undercurrent of tension running through the camp. The older members of the following remain stoic and do not give voice to the unsettling feeling, but it is clear that something has changed.
You don't have a lot of time to consider this, however, as a short time later, a bellow erupts from the grazing grounds of the Broken Tusk mammoths. The herd tenders quickly move to quiet the trumpeting mammoth, who lifts an injured leg to reveal several quills embedded in her foot. While the herd-tenders soothe the injured mammoth and begin tending the foot, one of them calls out, “Porcupine here! Someone come look!”
|
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Cyrene is already on her way, the sounds of pain coming from one of the mammoths drawing her like a mother to their child. At the cry of Porcupine she diverts, signing over her shoulder to Sabach to keep the area clear while she attempts to find and soothe the agitated animal.
Sadly the creature proves elusive, or simply too close to the ground for her to find! Fortunately Sabach has the advantage of greater height.
Sabach spots a small burrow near the the flattened grass where the mammoth was hurt, plus a massive porcupine within hissing angrily. The eidolon also sees two porcupettes toddling around inside the burrow.
The mother porcupine screeches, seemingly angry that hte mammoth almost trampled her two younglings. With patience and soothing motions, though, Cyrene is able to calm the animal down. Eventually, the porcupine sniffs at the halfling's hand and nuzzles it, accepting her presence.
|
|
Cyrene flickers sign towards Sabach and the angel relays her words.
"The mammoth disturbed the porcupine's young. If the mammoths are moved away from the area there should be no further issues. Cyrene says she will attempt to train the porcupine as much as possible but that will be a lengthy process. You should not disturb her unless the matter is urgent."
True to her word Cyrene spends another hour or so with the porcupine, returning later with a small offering of food to help soothe the hurt feelings caused by the mammoths. She spends a lot more time with Willow and Taffy, attempting to get them settled amongst the followings other animals.
By the time the evening meal is ready the halfling is exhausted and is practically drooping into her food.
Branwyn decides to seek Argakoa.
She pokes her head sideways and peers into Argoaka’s doorway, wingtip partly wrapped around the open door, almost appearing as a fan meant to hide the harpy’s face.
“Argakoa,” Branwyn asks shyly, “is good time see you now?”
Argakoa smiles at Branwyn. "Yes, come in, young one."
The older songsinger presents the harpy with some cloth wrappings emblazoned with tiny runes. "It is done. The magic of the spear now empowers these wrappings. Allow me to put them on you."
She carefully wraps one around each of the harpy's legs. Branwyn can feel her talons thrumming with enhanced potency.
Branwyn likes the feel of the cloth. She sits rather daintily, crossing one leg over the other as Argakoa wraps one shin and talon, and she swaps crossed legs for the other to be wrapped.
She stands and bows, very respectfully and gratefully. “Rock not payment enough. Please, you need me do something, I do. Not just because, are elder. Because, am grateful.”
If no order is given—or even if one is, Branwyn musters the nerve to ask, “You think Wola and Kukutsi come back, have war? I kill bird-man because he drown woman, is Musa, is kin of Wola even though Wola not care, is dead.
“I think burn face mean burn away feeling, not care own kin is dead. So not care kin is dead, not care anyone is dead. I spare life, maybe not care. But kill them, I care… am monster. Am not like Mother and Sister. Is choice.”
Branwyn does not have any more words to explain her feeling about the war band.
"I don't have any other tasks for you right now, Branwyn. And the worry stone is more than enough payment, in fact," Argakoa says with a kind smile.
The smile fades when the harpy asks about the scouts. "I cannot say, Branwyn. It remains to be seen what those two scouts, or their following, will do."
It scares Branwyn that even the very smart elder does not know what the burn-face war-band will do. But why would she? Smart is learn from past, not guess future, is right. Guess future, say am right, is dumb. Branwyn appreciates the elder being honest about not knowing the future.
She says as reassuringly as she can, “They come, I kick.
“I take spear to Valda, if you want?”
If Argakoa wants, Branwyn takes the spear to Valda. In any case, she will say a polite good-bye and leave the elder be.
Valda grins as Branwyn approaches. "Nice leg warmers, Wyn. I am sure they will help you kick our enemies even harder now! Are they comfortable?"
”Yes.”
Branwyn smiles, feeling rather proud of the result of her wrestling match. She releases the spear tucked under her wing and, with her talon, offers the spear to Valda.
She is not sure what else to say. But with the three days’ tasks complete, that means the Green Moon Ceremony is next.
“Valda, have idea for ceremony. Can sing together. Am songbird.”
Branwyn thinks of a song Sister sang with her. It is an early memory, very sweet. I share song with Valda.
SKWwwWAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAaAaAAaaaAaAAAAAAA?!?!!
Branwyn quickly covers her mouth, eyes wide, not daring to blink.
“Second thought, better idea is you solo.”
Valda accepts the spear with a solemn nod. When Branwyn attempts to sing, the skald bursts out laughing. But it is a good-natured laugh, and she puts a warm hand on the harpy's shoulder.
"We will sing together, Wyn. It is time you learned a new song, though."
Valda's singing voice is a strong alto. She sings a song of the Broken Tusks making their way across the tundra, following the mammoth herds and eking out a peaceful life for themselves. It is a song of hope, of what the Broken Tusks wish to achieve, but their is a mournful edge to it as well, as reality is never as perfect as the songs make it out to be.
Arianda had made her way towards the singing, listening quietly on the periphery. When Valda finished, she clapped. ”That was lovely,” she said. She was wrapped heavily in blankets. She stepped forward and asked ”Valda…I was hoping we could have a word in private? I wanted to…ask you a favor.”
Valda nods. "Of course. Wyn, practice the song. I will return."
She leads Arianda over to her own personal tent. Once the two are alone, the skald. "How may I help you, Ari?"
Arianda paced a bit once inside the tent. She then said ”So…I was trained from a young age how to fight with a sword. I’m…okay at it. It was never a strong suit of mine. But…okay…this may seem weird, but you are so strong and in such good shape, I thought it best to ask you. Branwyn would seem the best choice, but she doesn’t have arms…and I didn’t think she would be able to, well, teach me proper.”
She sighs and stops beating around the bush. ”Can you teach me to fight hand to hand? Or wrestle? Something like that? I want to be of more use. And those women from the other tribe…the war band…I’m worried.”
"Ha! You want to wrestle with me?" Valda laughs. "I am happy to help, Ari. We will build up those muscles of yours. Soon, you will be strong like Kellid woman!" She gives Arianda's smaller biceps a squeeze.
"Ready to start now? Take off that bulky armor and let us find some space."
Arianda nods, and steps to the edge of the tent. She drops her furs off her shoulders, revealing that she had already dressed down to some light, mismatched attire. Her skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold, though she seemed to be trying to tough it out. She stepped back towards Valda and took up a fighting stance.
Valda takes in Arianda's attire appreciatively. "Very nice. You look the part. Now let's see if you can act the part, too." She ducks low and lunges at the half-elf!
Branwyn tries out the new song. Her voice does not crack on the first note this time, but is still shrill. Just not nightmarish. Her second try is better. Her third is worse.
Frustrated, she kicks a pebble. Her talons leave a trail in the dirt. Branwyn wipes away the scratch with her wing. She uses her talon to write the first line of the song. She sings it… off key.
She scratches the first stanza. A bit worse this time.
She scratches all of the lyrics, and sings off-tempo as she moves about trying to read and sing at the same time.
She sings better, then worse, then very well.
On the tenth try, she sounds almost as good as Valda.
“Need drink,” she decides.
Arianda manages to juke Valda momentarily, but the match ends as the skald throws the cleric to the ground and kneels on her back. "I win. Not bad, little Ari. You have tricks. Now you need strength to back it up."
She offers a hand to help the cleric up. "Try again? Maybe make it more interesting. Loser has to pay a forfeit. Yes?"
”Unf!” Arianda grunted as she hit the ground, before feeling a knee in her back. After a moment though Valda helps her up and makes her proposal. ”O…Okay. But I don’t really have anything to gamble. The orcs took everything of mine except the armor, sword, and clothes I was wearing. I had to ask around the camp to borrow this,” she said, gesturing to her fighting attire.
After returning with the captured scouts and handing them over to the elders, Jorum spends an hour or so watching Cyrene working with the mammoths again with an admiring eye. Knowing that Sabach will complain if he's there too long, he then heads off to check in with the others.
He misses the chance to join in with Arianda's training as he's distracted by the mixed-quality singing attempt by Branwyn.
"It seems like you're having a harder than normal time adjusting to some of the following's traditional songs," he says with a grin, handing her a wineskin.
~~~~~
Seeing the halfling's eyes drooping over her stew, he chuckles and rises from where he sits. "I think you're done for the night, Little Angel," he says, lifting her up to cradle her in his arms.
With quiet steps, he makes his way to the single women's tent to place Cyrene in her designated sleeping furs. Gently he tucks her in under the wary and watchful eye of the angel watching over her.
"No need to fret," he says to the guardian. "I'm a complete gentleman unless asked to be otherwise," he says with a grin before exiting the tent to return to the others.