"Ah just leave him be. He's no help anyway even when he does try. He'll just slow us down and get someone hurt."
"Maybe I'll soon have a perfect test subject for this device's stun mode. Once this important cultural artifact is accounted for, anyway."
Impulse steps up, and swings their mace-axe upwards trying very much to prove their words by being more useful than Pakano's spear toss.
They make a grunt of frustration, as their hair starts to rise as if building up a static from their annoyance alone.
“It was an accident!” Kala shouts back up the hill. It hadn’t exactly been an accident—more the proud Kellid girl’s frustration at how difficult climbing had suddenly become, grounding out through a convenient and long-frustrating target—but now was not the time to split those hairs. Besides, she hadn’t meant to push him that hard, so it was kind of true. “And I already apologized! Seven times!” Which was eight too many, in retrospect. She bites that part back, though; again, not the time. Then the birds are on her, and she has other concerns.
Between the changes in balance and Kala’s relentless regimen of one-handed mammoth-tusk pull-ups, she’s not been quite so agile since losing her arm; but her awareness of Asha guides her through the swarm of wrothful ravens with only a few scratches and pecks. She only barely avoids getting skewered by Pakano’s spear in the process. “And try not to kill any of us, please!” she adds.
Something about that thought sends a chill down Kala’s spine. Weohotan, Wipa’s husband and child-father, who’d died of a ‘hunting accident’ while hunting aurochs... with Pakano. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, a habit ever since the hunt where her eyes had opened to Asha. He’s an arrogant brat, and I want him to be wrong because of my resentment; but he is no slektsdreper. Still, the young animist ties that thought in the back of her mind, trusting her perception of Asha to guide her to an impartial truth.
Returning her attention to the ravens, Kala Dja nimbly rolls out of the swarm, thrusting her will into her spirit-blade. The weapon thrums in her hand, its serpent-spirit hungry for raven prey. All right, raven spirits. You wish to trifle with the Broken Tusk? Taking a deep breath—though not too deep; she’s not sure she wants to accidentally ‘go loud’ again until she understands the phenomenon more fully—the Kellid girl roars as she lashes her whiplike blade, creating a startling crack. Then, as if to make the point, Kala whirls, building up momentum with the spirit-blade before sending it into the swirling storm of blackbirds.
Kala Dja purses her lips in annoyance, trying not to channel her anger at Pakano. Will pushing him harder help? Or will it only drive him away... or worse? For now, the young animist refrains, doing her best to remain patient and let events unfold as they will.
Iskra still can't see what's going on, but there's definitely less raven cawing than there was a moment ago. "Just keep up the pressure, we'll be out of this mess in no time!" she shouts, hoping it sounds encouraging. "Let's make some noise, Tomi!"
Tomi rears up and lets out a horrible cacophony, while Iskra attempts to stab and jab at the periphery of the source of the diminished swarm's flaps and caws, hopefully without hitting one of her comrades in the process.
Iskra feels the impact of her war lance glancing off the boulder and attempts to use that sensory input to direct her slashing swipes with her main gauche into the bird mass.
Eirthgrim empowers Agn, hoping the companion can overcome its blindness to score a hit.
◆Act Together (Eirthgrim: boost eidolon, Agn: Strike); ◆Strike, ◆Strike
for
for
Agn's fiery attack finally takes out enough of the birds that the flock loses its consistence and scatters. The remaining birds sit (smugly, to your eyes) near the tops of nearby trees. Several fly higher to circle the top of the wooded hill before alighting.
Pakano seems confused. "When we fought that moose, you told me to stay back and plan my attacks. Who rushed in this time?" He looks around. "Is everyone okay?"
In the trees where they were roosting, you see the glimmer of baubles. It turns out to be a lensatic compass and a gold pendant with a garnet gem.
Agn spits out a mouthful of smoldering feathers. Eirthgim mutters and ceases making the Beckoning Sign, letting the earth's power sink back into the land.
The elder pulls some bundled herbs and calfhide out of their satchel to begin tending to their companions' wounds.
The hearth-spirit prowls over to Pakano. "Child of Eiwa's child, not all words serve at all times. The hunt was a hunt. The successful pack works together, plans, acts when the moment is right." The cat points his curled horns toward Eirthgim's medicinal efforts and the scattered raven corpses. "There are times when quick action is best." Flaming shoulders rise in a feline shrug. "Then there are times when a packmate acts rashly; the pack still comes to their aid, for not doing so would weaken all."
Kala pants as the swarm’s remnants flee from the band’s occasionally-accurate assault. The spirit-blade retracts, and she tucks it away for the moment. She’s just gearing up to speak when Pakano beats her to it. The Kellid girl turns to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind. And then... she hesitates, taken aback. That... is actually a fair point. Huh. “Um, well... I suppose you’re right,” Kala Dja admits, smiling with surprising warmth. “And look where it got us. Flailing about like fools. Though we didn’t exactly know the birds would come swarming down on us.”
If Kala is surprised by that, she’s even more shocked by the follow-up. Pakano, of all people, asking if sh—if everyone is okay? Quite unwittingly, the young animist feels her face growing warm. “Oh. Um... I do not know about the others, but I was barely hurt. Nothing I can’t sleep off. But... thank you for your concern.” Kala shyly smiles, glancing aside and fidgeting with her sash. “Um... also, thank you for contributing after all. That was an excellent spear-throw. And, um... I’m sorry I shouted at you like that.”
Scurrying away before she can embarrass herself any further, Kala Dja turns her attention to the baubles in the trees. Getting up these trees would have been no trouble for her once upon a time. But now...
In the end Kala manages it, and even manages not to embarrass herself in the process; trees are still easy, after all, and she’s stronger than she was. Once more thanking her ancestor-self for all those one-handed mammoth-tusk pull-ups, she roots around until she finds the sources of the glitter. Dropping out of the tree, Kala holds out the items for the others to see. “A new compass! And a pretty pendant.” Peering at the latter, the young animist opens her mind, trying to see if she can discern anything of spiritual resonance.
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Impulse shakes their head and sighs. "And yet as always that one gets off so easily. Are we okay, he asks, like some of us weren't having our eyes pecked till they bleed in the heat of it all, and the best this one could do was stay 40 ft away and throw a spear one time while laughing at each of us.
They take a moment to look back at the ground, staring back down at the tracks that lead them to this area. Despite everyone's frantic stomping around, the prints are still visible, leaving a still unsettled feeling in Impulse's stomach, still yet unresolved. "Whatever. Call me rash then. Next time you can all find the traces of someone running off with a precious spiritual artifact and not follow them on your own then. I just want to find this damn thing and get this over with."
However, seeing Eirthgim start tending to Iskra's eyes and covering other bruises, they do lean back against the large boulder and begin tending to their invention's critical failures. They twist the bottom cap of the axe off releasing an audible hiss, giving the steam a full minute to dissipate and release all of its heat, before pulling out the still faintly glowing tube and placing it in a thickly lined leather pocket of the pack. Then, from a second pocket of identical size, they produce a more strongly glowing tube that they slide back into the weapon and replace the cover.
"At least objects can just be fixed. If I try to fix myself or other people it's far more of an uproar every time."
They spend the next few minutes in silence, tending to spring systems and tightening certain moving parts with specialized pliers and other tools. The steady work and concentration having brought them down out of their state of aggression for the time being.
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Iskra sits on the ground, attempting patience in being tended to. "Just some scratches, nothing to get excited about," she wants to say- but what does playing tough matter in these circumstances? She's seen the rest of her fellow scouts. They're all tough. We're all tough. And if the worst today brings to bear are some sneaky birds and their dirty tricks, she should really count herself lucky.
If worse comes to bear?
Best be prepared for it, then.
She looks up towards Eirthgim- even bent nearly double, the old one still seems eerily tall- and smiles. "It looks worse than it feels, I promise. Thank you, grandparent-not-by-blood." It's an old term- kthallgr, in the Sarkoris Hallit that still peppers her speech, generations apart from that land- but a highly respectful one, one she's called Eirthgim since she was young and they... well, less old. "When you're done tending to me, if you'd leave some of your kit, I can tend to Tomi. She can be a bit feisty, you know. Best I handle her."
She glances over to the others. "I'll admit, Pakano, I acted rashly. And you can see the results of it plain as day on my face. We're all of us not immune to getting a bad idea stuck in our heads, yeah? But listen to Eirthgim; their words are wise. We help each other. That's how we get by."
"Okay, I'll try to help. Looks like we're stuck out here until we find the rest of that...what did you call it? 'Precious spiritual artifact'? It looks very heavy, so I don't think anyone could have carried it very far."
Pakano's tone is barely sarcastic. He even manages to look a bit chastened when he joins the group and sees the damage that has been done to peoples' eyes.
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Wrapping her legs around the sturdy branch to secure her perch, Kala Dja shades her eyes with her hand, peering up at the hilltop. Movement? Then perhaps our vandal is up there. Strange that they could step into stone and emerge elsewhere, but stranger things exist. Dropping out of the tree, Kala shows the others the items, eventually securing the compass among her effects for easy perusal and dropping the pendant around her neck. She resists the urge to preen, at least for the moment; her mirror is back at the camp anyway.
Gesturing the pack—including Pakano—to circle up, Kala lays out the situation. “While up in the trees, I spotted signs of movement up above.” She gestures toward the hilltop. “I would counsel stealth, but, um...” The young huntress blushes, smiling sheepishly. “I haven’t been out on the hunt for a while, and I’m still a bit clumsy. Besides, I don’t know what’s up there, but between the three of us—” She gestures at herself, Tomi, and after a slightly awkward pause, Impulse. “—they’d have to be deaf to not know we’re here.”
Kala holds up a hand, as if gesturing for patience. “But. We can still employ stealth to some extent. And even if we are noticed, it is imperative that we fight as one.” She doesn’t single Pakano out, but certainly this message is meant for his ears especially. “So. We advance as stealthily as we are able. And none of us charges in until we’re all prepared or until the foe starts the fight.” The young animist looks from scout to scout, meeting their gazes in turn, and nods. “I can help coordinate the pack via birdcall-sign and communion with Asha, and hopefully it will go as successfully as the moose hunt. More so, even, with your assistance,” she adds, giving Pakano an encouraging smile.
The young animist clears her throat, brushing a wayward lock of hair out of her face and looking around at the others again with a hopeful smile. “So, um. How does this plan sound to everyone?”
Impulse shrugs, trying to look nonchalant about the whole conversation, but clearly still troubled by the previous engagement. "I suppose we have been loud but it's possible they're far enough away to not have hear the commotion. That plan seems sound enough, I know it doesn't seem like the case but I am able to keep quiet when I need to. I've seen Iskra's stealthy prowess before too. You want us to stay slightly ahead then and see if we can't catch whoever this is unaware?"
They reset their axe back to its usual bladed form and attach it to their back on a magnetic clip, to try and emphasize their agreement towards a stealthier approach. "I should add, stealth will slow us down though, so we'll have to keep on the lookout for if this possible culprit starts rushing forward. We won't be able to keep up if that happens, and I'd rather have to go in loud as a back up plan than risk losing our only lead at all."
They step off from against the massive boulder and slowly approach Pakano, staring at him for an aggressively long moment before turning away and deciding against saying anything. "We already have a plan presented... now isn't the time to go poking the useless one for input, I suppose..."
Iskra listens intently as the planning unfolds. "I'm willing to leave Tomi behind if absolutely necessary- she's not a stealth hunter, though we might miss her speed even in these hilly woods." She pauses. "Should we approach from multiple angles, or as one unit? Whoever or whatever is up there might be easier to catch if we approach from two or three directions."
Fanning out to cut off any escape attempts, you make yoru way as quietly as possible to the top of the wooded knoll.
No one appears to take notice of your approach.
When you get to the clearing, you see a broken stone shaped like the upper half of a giant raven lies in a furrow at the bare crest of this hillock.
Near the stone, a hairy humanoid figure cries in the fetal position. He's rocking back and forth and muttering to himself a bit.
Peering out from cover of foliage—she had worried she’d become too clumsy and forgotten too much, but Rockloom’s terrain has been her friend and companion since she could walk—Kala Dja blinks in surprise at the evident culprit. She can’t understand his words, but she can sense the overall mood. The young animist opens herself to Asha, hoping to find a way to peacefully make whole the sacral stone.
The Kellid girl’s face takes on a distinctly unenthused expression. Oh splendid. Not just a fairy, but a territorial fairy. And my band includes the stormiest of storm spirits and the brattiest boy the Broken Tusks ever produced. Only good things will happen here.
Still, Kala Dja is nothing if not optimistic, especially when it comes to the spirits of Asha. Mentally revising her plan, Kala pipes a common birdcall: {peaceful, but wary}. Be friendly, and let the enemy be first to declare hostilities. Hopefully that’ll keep Team Testosterone from blowing things up, she thinks, stifling an impish giggle; she’s not sure precisely what Impulse runs on, but they certainly have the temperament the summer-maiden associates with that bothersome hormone.
Taking a deep breath and trying to project serenity, Kala Dja steps into view, holding her hands... well, her hand up in a gesture of peace and placation. Hopefully he understands the Realm-tongue, or I am in trouble. “Honored stone spirit, I humbly apologize for my trespass,” the young animist says, bowing her head in respect. “I see your sorrow, and wish to help set right whatever has caused it. And... in turn, I beseech you to soothe our sorrow as well, by helping us return our ancestral relic to its proper place.” By way of explanation, she gestures at the sundered stone.
Kala had meant to leave it at that; but curiosity, her old rival, once again gets the better of the exuberant princess. “Though... we had expected to find the stone’s vandal here. And yet I would never expect you to harm these precious megaliths.” Kala blinks, as if just putting things together; then the young animist smiles, warm and full of gentle sympathy. “Is that why you weep, honored stone spirit? Because someone else has broken the stone? And so you bring it here, to protect and mourn a companion of old?”
Kala Dja hasn’t even finished speaking when her holistic awareness of Asha imparts another revelation. Beckoning Impulse forward, she all but presents the storm spirit to the fairy. “This one, though at times uncouth,” Kala surreptitiously edges out of Impulse’s Explode radius, “is extremely wise in the hidden truths of stone.” Kala smiles her sunny smile. “With their great knowledge, your spirit-authority upon mineral’s form, and my connection to the Raven Stone’s spirit and its ancestor-self... I believe that, working together, we can heal it as though it was never harmed.”
Iskra, astride Tomi, keeps to the thick foliage surrounding the bald-topped hillock, lance and main gauche at the ready in case diplomacy should fail. She cocks an eyebrow at Kala Dja's current tack but is more than willing to see it through if nonviolence solves the issue.
When Kala Dja calls Impulse forward, Iskra's face turns to a grimace before she mouths, "are you sure?" but continues to hold her vigil.
At Kala Dja's kind words, the hairy fey creature quiets his sobs and turns to speak, "Ah poor Shaggy Shemven! (That's me, you see.) Weeks ago I saw the most beautiful raven-woman fly through the sky. Well, I immediately fell under her spell. (Not enchantment, just the sheen of her mein.)" He looks wistfully at the heavens.
"What could I do to woo her? A shame, I couldn't even catch her name. I saw this stone as a sign, she might one day be mine, if I could fill this hill with a tribute to her. So, I popped the statue up top, but all I heard were angry birds."
Shemven explains that he used his magical powers to break off the top of the monumental rock, then carried it up the forested hill. His labor of love was expedited thanks to his ability to stride through stones, which explains the strange gap in the tracks leading away from Rockloom.
Shemven planned to wait for his beloved at the top of this hill, but she’s nowhere to be found. In fact, if anything, the broken bird statue has only confused and angered the resident ravens, who chase Shemven back to the hilltop whenever he tries to return the Raven Stone. So, the korred lingers here, heartbroken and unable to devise a way of making things right.
"Who are you? Are you lonely too?
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Eirthgim's steps into the clearing are slow and soft. Agn hangs back a bit, just in case the Shemven's wary of flaming cats.
"No, we never feel alone - the tusk that's broken is our home." The hearth keeper's face clouds with sadness. "Or not alone as Shemven's heart, which follows ravens like pole stars."
"With raven's fair we cannot help, but Shemven's hair, plucked out? His yelps? That's a deed we rectify by returning the stone—all them and I. The ravens hereabouts, you know, are linked to spirits, sky, and snow. That stone you've got, to woo your star? Ravens anger when it's far. If it's returned, I'm resolute," Eirthgim nods solemnly, "you can continue love's pursuit."
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Impulse's single awkward step forward is accented by an audible sigh of relief as Eirthgim steps and bring in some words of wisdom to appease the situation. They look up across the glade at the elder trying to mouth a "thank you" as visibly in their direction as possible.
They stay well back, not fully approaching the area but they do turn to look over at Kala with a quizzical look. "Surprising how much faith in me that one can have considering..."
After a long moment, pause they do step up and add. "Yeah I uhhh haven't really worked with statues much and it's been a good few years since I touched mason work but I'll certainly do everything I can to put this back the way it was. I'll even carry it out there if you're worried about the ravens getting you. I uh, like to think I'm pretty sturdy anyway."
Their delivery is visibly awkward as they try to skillfully extract themself from further conversation. They take a few steps closer to the statue half, hoping to grab it and take it back as quickly as possible, before they have to make a fool of themself any further.
Shemven seems to really warm to Eirthgim. "You'll help me down? No need to frown--your statue can be fixed to how it was found. The mason and I will mend it all, if you can help me haul." The now-friendly fey signals that he's tuckered out from carrying the stone up the hill. No wonder! It looks to weigh about 1,000 pounds.
It should be possible for your brawny crew to move the stone down the hill with teamwork and raw strength.
As you huff and puff your way down the hill, Shemven becomes quite chatty, questioning you about your life among the following. "Not lonely and plenty of friends? Gathered round campfires at day ends? And beautiful hairy mammoth herds? Who needs birds?"
(At the mention of birds, he does sigh. His broken heart isn't going to be forgotten easily.)
When, dirty and sweaty, you get down to Rockloom, all that remains is to balance the stone on top of its base so it can be repaired.
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Trying not to cringe over the previous display of accidentally tripping over the stone itself and clattering their extra side weaponry across the glade, Impulse now more cautiously steps around the object, assessing its design and the base from which it was removed.
They take off their pack, carefully and slowly digging down into the bottom of it to pull out a small set of rope rigging, chisel sets and most importantly, an adhesive substance that once applied is only visible to the trained eye. It was something used quite often in fixing up the broken brick work of an old house for people who couldn't afford to entirely rebuild their entire walls. How long had it been since they used any of these tools? Long enough now, that they have actually started to try and count the time in moons and springs rather than in years. And in all these seasons that have passed they still had so little to show for it. To give back to a group that were willing to take them in, even with their wildly destructive nature. Perhaps this would be the chance to prove that what they really enjoy is creating things with their own two hands, and those things didn't always have to be dangerous things.
They motion, Iskra over and place the adhesive on the on base, then help direct the two of them to perfectly place the heavy crow statue perfectly, then quickly rope it down in place to make sure it stays still for the time to set.
"That should do it. We need to give it a few minutes to fully set. If anyone else has any spiritual insight that they need to add to make it work for its intended purposes again, it should be fine as long as you don't need to move it to do so."
As they step back from the tied down stone, a glimpse of a rare happily satisfied smile appears on the android's face as they repack up the rest of their gear.
"Not my finest work, but hopefully it's enough to restore an important relic to its former glory. Even if I still haven't figured out what the significance of all these things are yet..."
Shemven is very impressed with Impulse's rigging work and watches the whole process with interest. Once the stone is set, he presses an ear to the side of it and smiles. "Almost good as new, you set it true. Making what I break, fixing my mistake!"
The fey bows low to Impulse, his long hair and beard touching the ground.
After he straightens up, he starts circling the monument, counterclockwise, left hand brushing the stone. The fey hums, barely audible, and there's a rising smell of deep, damp caves. On his third pass, the clack in the giant monument seals itself closed. The fey stops walking and touchs his forehead to the stone, a smile on his face.
Pakano, who has been shockingly quiet until now, walks up to the stone and gives the top a hard shove. "Wow! Great work. It's totally solid."
Indeed, the stone seems to be good as new!
Kala Dja falls quiet as she watches the curious stone spirit warm up to Eirthgim. She’d thought she’d done a fine job talking... but in the end, she couldn’t handle it, forcing the recruiter to step up and cover for her mistakes. Even the thought of making the Raven Stone whole doesn’t do much to console the Kellid girl. Drifting away, Kala leans against a tree, studying the ground while the others banter; she doesn’t notice Impulse’s quizzical glance, nor the korred’s description of his unrequited lover.
The inevitable call to do her part in moving the immense stone shakes Kala out of her moping... well, it gets her to come lend her muscle to the effort, anyway, although she remains uncharacteristically quiet. Shemven’s chatter does temporarily break her self-imposed silence, though, and the Kellid girl (rather shyly) answers as many questions as she can while also shouldering the strenuous burden. She even mentions the coming ceremony to the stone spirit, presenting an opportunity for him to see the following for himself.
As the group and the fragment arrive at the stones, Kala sneaks a shy little peek at Impulse from her hiding place behind the sundered stone, hoping that they’ll look to her for help. Instead Impulse motions to Iskra, and Kala’s heart sinks further. Am I of no use to anyone here? Unable to resist, the young animist’s gaze drifts to her half-missing arm. It’s no wonder. What help would a crippled huntress be? On top of what I did... I’m surprised they speak to me at all. Blinking back hot tears, Kala creeps away behind the convenient boulder, huddling down with her arm around her knees and wallowing in self-pity while the others celebrate their achievement.
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Agn climbs quietly up the boulder, dangling his paws over its edge and looking down at Kala Dja. He doesn’t say anything. Just a little snuff at the air, a little yawn. Small sounds to make his presence known.
She’ll speak when she feels the need. Always so, even as a tiny crawling climber with barely any hair.
Kala Dja doesn’t notice until the noises. Glancing up just long enough to learn who it is, the Kellid girl looks back down in shame, rubbing at her eyes. After a few moments, though, she reaches up to gently scratch under the hearth spirit’s chin; her expression is still morose, but just the reminder that she’s not really alone appears to help.
It takes a few more moments of scratching and listening to the others before she’s ready to speak. “I... guess maybe I’m not as grown-up yet as I think, huh?” Kala sighs, though when she looks up at the hearth spirit again, her face now bears the ghost of a rueful smile. “What do you think, Agn? It feels like I’m not much use to everyone, but maybe... maybe I just don’t see the full picture. Not even through Asha.” The young animist leans back against the stone, tilting her head back to look up at Agn. “Not on my own.”
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Agn splays a meaty paw on Kala Dja's forehead, part reproach and part affectionate pat. "Child, no one sees the full picture. I doubt the gods do. Our eyes are all clouded with personality and desire."
He jumps off the rock, landing gingerly despite his size, then plops down next to the girl. "An example—me. I am not a cat. I am more than even Eirthgim can see, bound though we are. I am a spark that burns fiercely at the heart of the Broken Tusk. A flame built from spirit and fire, yes, and from people. Or their ideas."
His tail curls around to twitch under Kala Dja's nose. The heatless tail flame casts warring shadows as it waves back and forth. "But this shape is something like a cat, and as I am part idea, I find that for all my age and inhuman experience..." he pauses a bit as the princess's fingers find another scratchable spot behind a horn, "...there, you see? I am something like a cat. I cannot see the full picture, shaped as I am in this way, by these people."
"And if a spirit with roots beyond mortal memory is not all-wise, I would not expect an emberhaired girl of not even twenty winters to be all-wise, either. And as for use, well," he purrs, ancient eyes twinkling. "Little summer fox, peak beyond this rock. Do you see your family, your following? They all have doubts. They all seek their place, now and then. That is why we are a following. No one can be all things to another—and they need not be."
He rolls over and to his feet, then circles around to sit on his haunches in front of Kala Dja. White eyes bore into hers. "We all feel lacking at times. This is natural and healthy. But do not forget how you lead a fresh pack of scouts to the hunt and brought back many meals' worth of flesh. Do not forget what Asha has said to you—that Asha has said something to you, for they are silent for most."
A spring of powerful legs and Agn disappears above the boulder again. As he prowls away, his rumbling voice drips off the edge and into Kala Dja's ears. "Do not forget the spark at the heart of you. After all, a princess is a rare thing among the followings."
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At some point during a quiet hour, Eirthgim softly steps up next to Impulse. "That was an impressive thing. Repairing the stone."
They make a show of checking that a nearby tent site has enough stones for a small hearth circle. "Getting on with others isn't a... natural proclivity. So I do what I can to help the following in other ways. Hearth, wounds. Other things. And, I like to think," they pause a moment to look at the younger storm-soul, "a keen eye for character."
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Shemven is very interested in the description of the ceremony. "Rockloom is a sacred place, for korrods too, a special space. Stones guide the fey from far and wide."
As long as she is willing, he takes her hand and presses it against the raven stone. He makes a low hum, and Kala Dja can feel the rock vibrating sympathetically.
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Kala Dja listens wide-eyed and attentive to Agn—though she does go a wee bit cross-eyed at the paw on her forehead—not once interrupting the hearth spirit. (Not even to bat at and try to grab at his twitching tail.) “Little summer fox” and “emberhaired girl” delight the summer-maiden, as they always have; for Agn had been one of the first in the following to see her for who she was, nearly even before she herself knew. By the end her sunny smile has been rekindled, and while it may not last—she has still seen only seventeen winters, and winter’s chill fades faster than the fears and foolishness of youth—for now, Kala Dja has a new understanding. A princess, she thinks, giving the hearth spirit a gentle kiss upon the brow where the link-sign shimmers.
As Agn departs, she shyly peeks around the stone at the others. Iskra, strong and fierce, friend of many seasons and seemingly fearless. Grandfather-Sibling, always ready to guide. Or chide, the emberhaired girl thinks, an impish smile painting her lips. Pakano—the threads in her mind twitch, although she resists for now—still a mystery to her. Either she’s going to beat him senseless or... or something, anyway, if he doesn’t shape up. And... Impulse, too, the storm spirit. Kala’s been so worried about trying to regain their trust that she’s not really looked at them, clear-eyed, for longer than a full turn of seasons. Kala slows her breath and calms her mind, focusing past Asha to those around her, to one in particular. And...
And...
The young animist snaps back behind the boulder, eyes wide and body quivering, social anxieties forgotten. She’s never tried that before... or at least never in that way... or perhaps it’s the sacral site and its attendant spirits. Right now Kala can’t think straight enough to tell. What she does know is that, for a moment there, she’d done more than just look. She’d touched. Not her friends’ bodies, but their spirits... their thoughts. And though the young animist could no more read the words therein than she could Impulse’s notes, the deed nonetheless left her feeling unclean. Unwholesome. First the strange shout, and now this. What is happening to me?
Taking a deep breath, Kala Dja steadies herself. While she has many questions, she cannot now answer them, and so worrying gains her nothing. Tying this new mystery in the weave of her mind, she once more peers around the boulder to find a number of concerned expressions. With a sheepish—but quite genuine—smile, Kala rises to rejoin the group. “Sorry... I just got kind of self-conscious. I’m fine. Really,” she reassures them. And, hopefully, so are they. The young animist’s gaze flicks to the Raven Stone, and her eyes widen; awed, she approaches, looking for the crack and finding none. “You... you have outdone yourselves, all of you.” For a moment her gaze settles on Impulse, and she offers the storm spirit a hopeful smile before returning her attention to the menhir.
Permitting the korred to take her hand and press it against the reunited stone, Kala Dja opens herself up to its spirit... to that of the ravens... and to all of Asha. The thrum of the Raven Stone sings of rightness, and Kala Dja’s eyes flutter closed, a beatific smile dawning on her face. When the moment has passed, the young animist nods to her fellow Broken Tusks, her voice reverent. “All is well here. The spirits are at peace, and Rockloom is ready for the Green Moon.”
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The journey back to the following is uneventful, and your new companion tags along, making mention of various interesting rock formations and natural features during the walk.
You arrive just before sundown after doing a long day's work. Pakano steals off to his family's part of the settlement.
Shemven exclaims in pleasure when he sees the hairy mammoths and goes to frolic among them. For their part, the huge creatures seem to stoically accept his admiration and attention.
Iskra's excited to be back, dismounting from Tomi and making her way to where her mother is tending her own terror bird. Before splitting off, she turns to the others. "We should have some maple-mead tonight by the campfire, plan out our next task, yeah? Not too much, though- wrangling tapirs or carrying sacred vessels both sound like nightmares to do hung over!"
Eirthgim smiles at Shemven's—they have their own connection to animals, after all—and Iskra's enthusiasm both.
"I think you've earned some manner of celebration," they say, face uncharacteristically cheerful. Not that it lasts. "Just drink water," they chide, furrowing their brow, "because we work together, but there is only so much slack we can take up."
They reach up to give Tomi a little scratch where beak meets feather. "Sacred vessels, I think. The Green Moon approaches, and the spiritual health of the following is most important."
They go off to tend the hearth. Agn lingers a bit, tail swishing lazily, observing the chatter of the young ones. He looks over his shoulder, just catching Eirthgim's eye and the return of that little smile, and winks at his partner. Eirthgim harumphs and picks up their pace, their muttering accompanied by the schick-crunch of their staff breaking through the thin crust of snow.
The ember cat turns to his companions. "You know how they are. A grand sign, a gentle rain in the dry season, that they had anything encouraging to say." He closes his eyes and rubs his flank against Impulse's axe, nearly knocking the storm-spirited young person over in his quest for a satisfying scratch. "Perhaps look for me tonight. I have not tasted maple-mead in..." His white eyes seem to flicker. "Mm. I do not believe any remain from that time. So, a taste for me this evening. Yes."
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Kala spends the trek back conversing with the others and with their new friend, seeming restored to her usual personable self. In quiet moments, though, she puzzles over the tangle of threads in her mind, tugging at this one and that. The spirits’ voice, and even more, that moment of mental contact, perplex the young animist. But her experience at the Raven Stone—not to mention her heart-to-heart with Agn—have put enough spring in her step that Kala can barely be bothered to worry about these mysteries. She’ll follow her path and trust that the answers will come.
On the way, Kala also spends some time familiarizing herself with her new acquisitions—though she is sure to frequently remind herself that they are not technically hers, but the scouting party’s communal resource—inspecting the pendant around her neck more and more intently, as though looking at it harder will reveal anything. The young animist gives up on it at least thrice, only to find herself stubbornly inspecting the pendant again a minute later. By the time the band arrives at camp, Kala Dja has resolved to join Nakta for meditation (and a round of questions) in the morning. It’s a resolution she’s made more than a few times, and rarely had the taste for in the harsh light of morning; but perhaps this time will be different.
“Agreed, Grandfather-Sibling.” Kala nods, a slow and reverent dip of the head. “We must see to the spirits. Those of the following, of the moon, and of all Asha.” At Iskra’s suggestion, though, an eager sparkle creeps into the emberhaired girl’s eye. “Ooh, maple-mead. Definitely! It’ll be a good warmup for the celebration, too.” She puts on a mock-stern expression, wagging a finger at Iskra and Impulse. “But you must heed Grandfather-Sibling’s advice! Lots of water, and be sure to...” Kala slowly breaks into a playful grin. “...tapir off.”
Watching the others disperse, Kala Dja follows Iskra with her gaze, her expression slowly turning melancholy as the huntress and her mother happily embrace. Of course, no child is truly orphaned in the following... but that does little to fill the hole in the Kellid princess’s heart. And while she does have Grandfather-Sibling, she often feels like more of a curse upon the hearth-minder. (Not that this has ever put a stop to her mischief, mind.) Shaking her head roughly in her habitual way, as if to rattle the mood out of her brain, the ever-dutiful young animist goes to find the elders so she can tell them what happened at Rockloom.
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Impulse shrugs, they readily take one of the maple-mead mugs and lightly warms it by the fire. Still just early enough in spring for a warmed glass to be that slight bit more rewarding in the partially dimming light of a late afternoon soon to become evening. They look down at Agn, despite glaring at him for nearly making them fall over just a moment ago, the android lightly pours a couple sips worth of the drink onto the very edge of the fire before taking it and beginning to sip at it themself.
"I'll be fine, I know my limits." Which was, as Impulse had learned in this company, surprisingly high compared to most members of the following. They blamed the nanites... pesky little things.
But the cause for celebration is partially in their honor, so they try to enjoy the company as well as the drink this time around. The drink certainly helps some, loosens their stiffness a little bit. "She's right, this will be good practice for the celebration... because I do need to get used to this level of familial-ness."
They make it through celebration without once yelling at someone and storming off for a while, so perhaps you can label it a success.
EVeryone has a companionable night around the fire, with much excited talk from the following of the upcoming Green Moon. For the moment, cares are left behind.
In the morning, you pack to head out for the river. Pakano meets you at the edge of camp, where he is standing next to an untidy pile of water-carrying baskets.
"It's about time! Some of you were hitting the mead pretty hard last night. Hopefully you don't slow us down--let's get this chore over with." Without waiting for a reply, the young man turns and lopes off in the direction of the Gornok River. Despite his grumbling, he seems to be enjoying the clear, promising spring weather.
The ceremonial vessels to be filled with water are three tightly woven, brightly colored baskets of different shapes. Leather straps make carrying a basket on one’s back easy, and each is sealed with a waxy sap to ensure it doesn’t leak.
The best spot to fill the baskets in the Gornok River is about an hour’s
walk from the Broken Tusk encampment.
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Agn lopes alongside Pakano for a time.
”Windheart, you have the spirit for joy. I see you, skin drinking in sunlight, eyes on sky and bird and horizon.” The horned cat makes his best attempt at mortal empathy and a tone neither patronizing nor needling. ”Why do you not carry this full heart to your pack? Share the joy of belonging?”
Pakano doesn't break stride when the cat catches up to him, "Go back and give up this, Embereyes?" He waves an arm, encompassing the whole of the forest: The morning, the birds, the trees.
"The whole Realms! The following only wends a quiet way through them, and too often forget how broad they are, and how our treads are mammoth steps." He pauses for a second, hanging playfully from a thick tree limb. "Besides, you've seen how the following shows me how I belong."
With that, he gives a swing and launches himself into a trot again.
Agn quickly climbs the tree trunk and uses it as a launch pad to vault over the same branch, landing on the wet ground and bounding after the young man.
”If you do not wish to be part of the following, there is no shame. Say I. The Realms are not walled and family does not sets snares to harm and hold family.” He jumps atop a fallen tree to survey the group’s progress. ”I believe you respect your grandfather. To respect is to share honestly whenever possible. If you feel unfree, bound truly, tell him. Why lash yourself to heartache?”
He deftly makes his way back down to the trail. ”Or perhaps you do not know for true. Hearts are full of secrets, and yours is wind to carry them.”
If he gets the sense Pakano doesn’t wish to continue the conversation, he travels alongside Pakano a few moments more before returning to Eirthgim. If the youth is uncharacteristic introspective, however, he gives him as much time as he needs; after all, is it not the hearth’s duty to be present? Constant? A thing that is there when needed.
Impulse rolls his eyes at Pakano, but picks up a basket with ease and straps it on.
"I said would be fine, and I am completely fine. Despite what your eyes perceive from me, my body processes alcohol differently. Let's just get going then, hopefully you don't all slow me down."
Impulse trundles ahead but turns back to make sure everyone has properly strapped on their baskets, quickly sighing and stopping to help Pakano properly adjust his basket's straps in such a way as to not injure himself; before leading the way well ahead leaving the conversational folk to their conversations. They spend most of the long walk flipping through notes they have about the area, and about all sorts of other things. Their usual mood seems to have come forward again in the morning workout heading out to do further chores.
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"Don't speak for me, Pakano- a couple maple meads after a hearty dinner won't slow me down a bit," Iskra says, sliding her pack off her broad back. She straps her usual kit to Tomi's saddle with her rope and shoulders a basket. "This'll be a nice workout, yeah? Good strength training," she says, flexing to ensure free movement with the basket in place. She seems genuinely excited to haul the soon-to-be-heavy container, by now a likely unsurprising response from the young hunter.
Tomi warks amiably and trots along beside her.
Mornings have never agreed with Kala Dja; at least, not since the serpent-hunt and Asha. Something about the bright light in her eyes making her brain ache. But this morning, she’s putting in the extra effort to be cheerful and chipper. She doesn’t even snap at Pakano when he starts needling her, itself a staggering achievement in the diplomatic arts. It takes Kala a bit of effort to don her basket—and in the end, some assistance from Eirthgim, thoroughly mortifying the proudly self-reliant Kellid princess—but soon she’s hustling to catch up with the others.
The beautiful spring weather agrees with Kala Dja every bit as much as it does Pakano, and then quite a bit; the wind in her embered hair, the sun on her skin, is everything the young animist loves about Asha, and soon her good cheer is no longer such an effort. She’s missed the forest greatly, too, and does a bit of climbing and swinging herself. With all the enjoyment of her return to the woods, Kala only just draws close to Pakano and Agn in time to hear the bratty boy speak.
“Besides, you’ve seen how the following shows me how I belong.”
Kala’s heart sinks a little. Is that really how I have made him feel? She falls back slightly to reflect upon her behavior; certainly it hasn’t all been great, but neither has his. Still, the emberhaired girl supposes, that’s hardly the point. And another attempt to make peace can’t hurt, right? Quickening her steps, she draws level with Pakano and their hearth-kept chaperone.
For a few moments the Kellid princess is silent, letting the quiet moment bloom. Finally Kala glances over at the young man, giving him a warm—perhaps even rather shy—smile. “It’s such a lovely day. You feel it as much as I, don’t you? The wind, the sun, the living Realm.” She draws a quiet breath, letting it out serenely. “Asha.” Everything. Her unique faith is far from a secret, but the young animist nevertheless feels a little trepidation speaking so openly of it to the bullying Pakano. She’d really rather not get into a scuffle, at least until she’s done her duty with the delicate basket.
Smiling hopefully, Kala Dja draws a little closer—carefully; she’s friendly, not stupid, and doesn’t fancy getting shoved into a tree or tripped onto hard roots—and offers Pakano her hand. “I’m glad you are here to share it with us. And...” Swallowing her pride—no small task—the Kellid princess continues. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel as though you don’t belong. I really do want you to be one of us. I just... don’t know how.” Though I bet it’d help if you stopped being such a colossal brat all the time. Kala does her best to keep the unkind thought off her face.
The emberhaired girl allows herself a little spark of optimism. Perhaps this time it will finally work. Yes, and perhaps it will stay spring forever.
"Well, far be it from me to tell you what to do or how to do it." Pakano grumps as a reply to Kala Dja's overture.
"And it takes more than you to make me feel unwelcome in following where I grew up from a little cub. Will everyone treat me a little better after Grandfather Eiwa names me heir to Falcon House? Ask your Asha that."
Pakano lapses into stony silence, but he doesn't try to chase Kala Dja off or outpace her.
You all draw near the river before too long and arrive at the reed-covered bank.
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Iskra's enjoying the morning; the exercise, the hard-edged natural beauty of the Realm, even her compatriots' back-and-forth sassery feels... right. "As it is, as it should be," she thinks, taking a deep lungful of crisp air, slightly muggy air of the river. The snowpack melts, the river swells, the land brings forth its bounty. "I hope to enjoy this feeling for many springs to come."
Then she halts, eyes drawn to the spear sticking out of the reeds. "Everyone, hush," she hisses, instinctively dropping to a crouch and drawing a main gauche. Walking cautiously, she approaches to investigate.
Creeping forward towards the reeds, Iskra begins looking around at where the spear juts out.
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Slowing their pace a bit, Eirthgim kneels to make a pretense of pulling a rock from Agn's foot pads. "I am old, Agn. Older than my predecessor was when you shepherded her beyond." They flick a nonexistent stone out into the heather. "I am not looking forward to another season's worth of waterbaskets."
The hearth-spirit chuckles, tracking the false projectile until it "lands" in the undergrowth. "Begrudge you a respite? You have helped most of these people dispose of their spoor, pressed wet cloth to their buttocks, and you think they would not carry water for you?" The ancient cat gently swats the geriatric hearth-tender. "Prideful. Prickly. What am I to do with you, child of my spirit and sibling of my flame?"
—
Iskra's quiet hiss ripples back through the scouting party. Eithgrim stands stock still, while Agn crouches down, ready to advance should the need arise.
Impulse squints at the scene before them and ducks down, keeping their head slightly below the reeds. Before Iskra has even spoken they pull the axe off their back, mostly on pure reflex. They don't move up to Iskra's position but keep an eye out for any movement around her.
"Now... who left this spear out here, and why?" The suspicion builds and rumbles in their mind. "Iskra, if you manage to get to it, see if you can bring that back my way. I might be able to glean some information from it."
"That is... assuming no one starts throwing more of them our way, first."
As Iskra cautiously approaches, Pakano splashes exuberantly into the river, which is only knee deep at this point. "Look, a spear! It looks perfect for me!"
He tries to beat everyone to the spear and grabs it, then shouts, "“Who objects to my right to this spear? I challenge you to a wrestling match for this prize!”
His dour spirits of the journey appear to have subsided.
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Kala Dja stares in disbelief as Pakano shoves past the others to claim the spear and make his proclamation. For a moment the Kellid princess just seethes, unable to see Asha past all the red. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head proudly (in what she very secretly thinks of as her ‘princess pose’), Kala steps forward almost daintily. “Challenge accepted!” she cries, barely keeping the incensed edge from her voice. To punctuate her statement, the young animist unclasps her cloak and looses her sash, letting both fall to the ground. “Let’s go.”
Prowling towards the obnoxious young man, Kala Dja lets him make the first move, goading him on with a gesture and a feigned show of weakness. As Pakano charges her for a tackle, the incensed princess grabs him by the wrist and ducks down, letting his momentum carry him up and over her to slam down on the riverbank, pulling Kala down to crash on top of him.
“I am so sick of you!” Kala cries. She’s starting to lose her cool, and with it her emotional restraint. “You want to know why nobody in the following likes you!?” She’s not completely sure she knows, but she’s willing to take a guess. “Because of things like this!” Pakano tries to kick out, and the Kellid girl straddles him, squeezing his legs between her powerful thighs. “You never cooperate! You never do your part! You act entitled to everything, even respect! You never share! If you want to feel welcome, maybe learn to act like it!”
Pakano lashes out, trying to break her hold with two hands to her one, and for a moment it looks like he might do it. But Kala Dja has wrestled with Iskra since before Tomi was hatched, and grew up playing with Agn besides. And she’s more flexible than her broad shoulders and wide hips would suggest. Grabbing his right-hand wrist with her right (and only) hand, Kala releases his legs from between her thighs just long enough to roll the pair a couple times, ending with her on top straddling him again, his chest pressed to the ground and his left hand trapped under it.
Panting, heart racing, Kala draws a deep breath. “I would have just let you take the spear, if you’d only asked us first. I might still, in fact... though you might have another challenge first.” The Kellid princess sighs, already starting to feel bad about her outburst. “But you can’t just take things. You have to learn to allocate resources where they best serve the group. You’ll be a pretty poor leader otherwise.” Kala lets the young man go, rising to her feet. She doesn’t yet move to claim the spear. “Because that’s what the following is. It’s all of us. Not as individuals, but together. Working as one, helping one another. We may tread like mammoths,” the young animist says, echoing Pakano’s earlier statement, “but even mammoths move in herds.”
Kala extends a hand to the young man to help him up; she knows he’s unlikely to take her up on it, but she has to try. “And I still want you to be one of us. Even if I do get really frustrated with you along the way.” The young animist smiles hopefully. “Because Asha means everything. And you’re part of that everything.”
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"Honestly I'm not sure I'm going to be much of a follow up to that absolutely brutal destruction. And they call me explosive..."
"I'd hold off on inviting him back into the fold before we see how much embarrassment he can handle. Honestly, Pakano I do not give a rat's ass whether or not you take that spear. But what I do care about it how you've just been an absolute piece of s*%@ this entire time since we all started out as scouts. So you want a fight, Pakano, then you got one. Just remember when this is over that this was your idea, not mine."
And before Pakano is even able to dust himself off, Impulse grabs his other arm and yanks it twisting behind the young Kellid's back. "I will make you regret dangling your undeserved title inheritance in front of us. "
They reach around, with their other hand, grappling Pakano around the front of his shin, slowly pulling up and lifting the taller Pakano cleanly off the ground, not faltering for a moment while the youth tries to struggle and wriggle free.
"You want to be on top and above the rest of us? Does that make you feel more secure in your position? Above rather than an equal like the rest of us? I'll show you what it's like up there."
Impulse accents this sentence by shifting their weight and lifting Pakano squarely above their own head, with the air nearly buzzing with anger and fear.
"Let me tell you one thing, dear Pakano. I knew a lot of guys like you who thought they were above others and could get away with not doing their jobs right and not doing their part for the rest of their team. Lot of people like that back home who thought they could push the little "Synth" like me around. You want to know what I did to them? Ah... I think it's better I just give you a small demonstration."
Impulse FLARES. It'd be hard to describe it any other way, like a pulse of blinding blue flashing across every one of their circuitry lines at once as they draw in every last burst of their strength to toss Pakano backwards down onto the ground as they bring their weight down falling over him.
They let off a flash of stray static discharge into the ground as they quickly dig their hands into the muddy ground and push themself up. Their expression remains deeply twisted in frustration and anger, but they don't seem to say anything further.
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"Guess I thought too soon about all this peace and tranquility," Iskra thinks to herself. Still crouching near the reeds, she is about to chastise Kala Dja and Pakano for acting so childishly- and more important, loudly- but watching Pakano's humiliating defeat replaces her words with a barely stifled giggle.
Then Impulse gets their turn in, and Iskra gives in to the laughter.
"Okay, okay, I think we've made our point, yeah?" She says. "Pakano, keep your Spear of Shame- let it be a reminder that a little humility might spare you greater humiliation." She straightens up. "Still. Who leaves such a fine spear unattended? The owner has to be nearby, and I doubt they'll be happy about their loss." Iskra quietly draws her other main gauche and begins searching for signs of where the now-spearless mystery person might have gone.
Kala Dja and Impulse take up Pakano's challenge and introduce him to some painful lessons.
Pakano gives a sly smile as Kala lands on top of him, but her harsh words wipe the smirk off his face. After the talking to that she gives him, he hangs his head for a moment, then takes a deep breath and gives a forced laugh. "Wow! Guess you really needed to get that off your chest, huh. It's just a wrestling match."
Pakano seems a little more wary of tangling with Impulse since he just got roundly trounced by Kala, but he takes up the challenge. Soon enough, he's grasping for air, the wind completely knocked out of him by Impulse's awesome suplex. "Ugh...<pant>...why, are you always...<gasp>...like this? I was just joking around."
Pakano tosses the spear at Impulse's feet and refuses any attempts to give it to him, saying that he "...didn't want it anyway."
The strange rush of momentary adrenaline takes a good long moment to subside but eventually Impulse shrugs and picks up the spear at their feet, taking a good long look at its make and design.
"Well I'll certainly give you that you have an eye for good craftsmanship. This is an exquisite ash wood spear with a serrated edge. Someone rune etched it, too."
They pause for a moment then hold it out for the rest of the group to see. "That said though... how in the world did you fail to notice the charred human hand hanging off this thing's leather strap?! Look, it even has wrist bones tumbling off of it like rocks when I move it!"
They slowly and cautiously remove the leather strap from it, holding it in one hand and letting the charred appendage hang just above the muddy marsh ground. The turn the spear in their other hand, giving everyone a clear view of the hide banner emblazoned with the silhouette of a wooly mammoth over the backdrop of flames. "Also, does this iconography mean anything to any of you? It's likely a clue to whoever this originally belonged to... And if I had to bet, whoever they were they're not in especially good shape right now."
They hand the spear to Kala for a moment to pull out their notes as well, and see if this image falls within their collected knowledge of the Realms.