Much takes the limping Haunt's arm and props him up a bit before turning to Laesah and Okoro with a smile.
The moment the mpeshi turns its back to lash out at Laesah, Much strikes.
Much joins her friends near the Mpeshi cage and begins to scan the area. The cord of the bola, thinner than the stone rope, feels insufficient in her hand. Looking down at her dual armaments she realizes they don't just feel awkward, she won't actually be able to immediately wield the stone rope. No plan is perfect, I suppose. It would be a lot easier to just kill this thing... With a sigh, she returns to scanning the area.
Oba returns with several fresh carcasses. The group of three crouch to examine them. Much pulls each animal up to her muzzle, sniffing at their wounds. She looks up to make eye contact with each of her compatriots and exchange satisfied nods. Laesah cocks her head at the smallest of the game animals, and Much nods in return. She grabs it, and with a practiced twist of her head rips a haunch free. She nods a final time, and through a mouthful of meat says "We can work with this."
Much nods along to Laesah's questions and then leans back in. "Yes, do tell us everything you know about Froglegs.
Much places a large paw on Oba's shoulder. "And after I have been gone for a day or a week you might start to forget what the heat of my breath felt like against your face, or the number and size of my fangs. You might even think, 'The Magaambya would never condone such violence!' And you might be right."
With that, Much steps back, seemingly unperturbed and ready to continue forward.
"Have you seen anything like that here at your shop, Madame Oba?" Much looks up from verifying if her fingers are all still attached to her paws and glares at Madame Oba. "It could be gremlins. Or maybe it's your negligence and the total lack of empathy for the animals in your care. Maybe even a touch of malfeasance, hmmm Madame Oba?""You will explain why your charges have twice -twice!- threatened the lives of students of the Magaambya and you will do it now. Because believe me, Madame, the fault for this will not fall on griffon or tigers driven to violence through cruelty and desperation."
”I mean, we’re not going to need to fight it, right Oakie?” "Hopefully not, but better safe than sorry. I'm sure you agree, Oakie?" Much jiggles her ears at Haunt before stepping into the next area of the store.
"I say we go get an idea about the neighborhood directly around it and the lay out of the building before we even go in."
"I confess that I've coveted one of those for some time for my hand wraps...." Much, arms loaded with reagents, turns to Laeasah with an apologetic gaze, and drops her ears. "Oh Laesah, didn't you know, the stone rope is so powerful it actually needs two striking runes, so I'm gonna need that one too..." Much barely finishes the sentence before she is overtaken with a loud, giggling laugh. "Oh, you should see your face." Much bends her large frame over to pull Laesah into a friendly one-armed side hug. "If you had had all of your eyes out to shoot daggers at me, I bet I would have fallen where I stood." Much giggles some more at her own joke and looks to the whole team. "I do think we should take an evening with some wine, dump out all of our gear in the dorm, and see who has what. Maybe we don't trade anything, maybe we do, but at least we can remind each other to actually use all the cool stuff we already have." She pauses to tap her rhino mask. "I mean, I forgot I had this. Can you believe that? Did you see me go through the door?!?"
Much looks at Laesah and returns her sheepish grin with her own before beginning to dig in her own pack.
Much affixes the mask, limbers up for a minute, and charges the remaining door!
GM: The mask allows me to ignore up to 5 hardness (which is what a wooden door is listed as) if it is more than 5, there is no benefit. Also, the attack is technically my weapon (hence the stats I used in the attack) but it's a Rhino mask, I'm flavoring it as a Rhino Charge.
Much watches Koride's back disappear out the entrance.
Much begins stowing her stone rope to free her hands for the descent.
"How about you two sit back down and start telling us what you're really doing here!" Much steps up next to Haunt and growls, hoping to help sell the point that sitting down truly is the best option.
As Haunt describes the trap, Much finds her upper lip curling back in revulsion. Poison is one of the worst paths to death. She struggles between wanting to hug Haunt for finding the trap before their feet did and wanting to snarl out loud at the cruelty that it is there at all. "If our choice is between a secret door and a trapped door -disarmable or not- my vote is for the secret door."
Much turns her attention to the ground, mumbling that she had, indeed, totally known that.
"That weight has felt like a lodestone around my neck at times... Much nods and mutters under her breath. "Tugas lebih berat dari gunung..." Kholo:
"Duty is heavier than a mountain..." Janatimo's question pulls Much's attention back and her ears wilt downward. "I'm afraid the best and truest answers have already been given, Master Janatimo. I am also here because my pack required a mage. That responsibility fell to me and so I came."
Much pauses and shrugs.
Much's ears perk up and she meets Janatimo's gaze.
Much pushes hard through to complete her studies in the first week of her break.
With that out of the way, and feeling a bit of swagger from her new found celebrity, Much decides to try her hand at commerce, posting fliers for three, one-week 'Movement in Combat 101' courses.
Much's ears pop straight up in shock and surprise.
Yesterday's party continues to rage in Much's guts. She sways in her seat, posture rigid and hands locked to her knees in an attempt to still the spinning room. She locks her eyes closed and pushes her focus down to just Haunt's logorrheic flow of words. I will face this nausea. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn my tummy to see its path. Where the nausea has gone there will be nothing.
The mention of gnolls breaks Much from her revery. "It's true Master Ot, we aren't insects, strictly or otherwise! You must believe Haunt!" In the tradition of students not paying attention Golarion over, Much's inappropriate enthusiasm draws a put upon sigh from Master Ot.
“Gods, yes!” Much follows her gregarious packmate into room and accepts a mug herself. Later: “Me? I hit him with a rock, sure, but you should have seen it! The air was glowing with magic missiles! And Laesah fought her way out of the ground!” Much emphasizes her last statement and startles onlookers by leaping into a poor imitation of one of Laesah’s stances. Even later: “Haunt? I’m pretty sure he can make magic out of anything. I can barely cast Shield, but he’s got an anteater charm. He’s the best." Later still: “She’s the best, but I’m not sure where her webs come out of. She’s the best.” End of the night: ”Do I wish they were Kholo? No! Pack is pack.
"… you’ll have to ask Much if there’s a verb for what she does with that stone rope." Loping along nearby, Much fails to catch the rhetorical nature of the statement and responds without stopping. "Kholo has a word for it, 'menghancurkan', but I prefer the Common 'crush'."
She chuckles grimly. “We’ll at least wait and see how you manage before sending in the inevitable help.” Grandmother always said a strong pack should operate as one body. Which of course means that every pack has to have an a$$hole. Apparently Teacher Ulawa is ours. I wonder what that makes our little group? The fist most likely. Much chuckles at her own thoughts and then looks at Barnabas with interest. She doesn't have much experience with elves, or with anyone taller than herself, really.
Much realizes she has been staring a bit too intently, shakes herself from her reverie and offers her paw.
Despite Haunt and Much's best efforts, this room of the tree stump library still feels abandoned. Much squats comfortably in the center of the room, face blank, knuckles pressed into the floor, forearms twisted to expose her wrists. She hasn't moved in some time. To her left, a table overflows with magical paraphernalia, it is more than they need. Anchor Root skitters back and forth, examining the items before returning to frown, droopy-eared, at Much. "I don't know if we should be doing this. I don't if I should be doing this, Much." Much keeps her eyes shut and her face composed as she replies.
That draws Anchor up short. She stops pacing and her ears straighten.
Much finally opens her eyes and turns to face her small friend.
Anchor Root sighs, moves back to her preparations and grumbles back over her shoulder, "You know I don't really believe she spoke to you. Much smiles at her friend's comment before settling back and responding.
At that moment Strands-of-Glowing-Dawn returns.
Tzeniwe looks for Much to nod in response before continuing.
Much smiles a bit at her friends' imminent arrival and responds.
"Very well. Let us begin then. I'll bring in the others." Tzeniwe exits the room. She returns with Haunt and Laesah, directing them to be seated along the right wall. All three are masked. Tzeniwe's mask, a sweet breath gnoll with rainbow dreadlocks, covers her head and shouldes completely. Much knows that bedtime stories of Kholo heroes she shared with Tzeniwe's children incited their demand that their mother take a Kholo mask. The rainbow dreadlocks were the children's addition as well. Each of Tzeniwe's fingers on her left hand are now capped with a peculiar, hooked blade of Anadi make. Tzeniwe speaks to Laesah and Haunt. "This is Much's trial. You cannot assist her. Know she has chosen a more difficult path of her own volition. She must release her rage and pain. She asks only for your presence as witnesses and packmates. We may be the first non-Kholo to witness this ceremony. Take that for what you will."
Without further preamble, she brings her bladed fingers to bear on Much's forearm. She eyes a spot, a finger slices, a second finger pulls open the wound, before her right hand injects a small amount of web with an audible pfft. Nearby, Anchor Root is lost in her spell; eyes rolled back, chanting, a small orb of flickering green and, somehow, black lights rolls between her hands. Each time Tzeniwe seals a wound with web a small streak of light spits out of her her orb to join it beneath Much's skin. Despite the magical nature of the process, the work falls into a mechanical pattern. Cut, pull, web, flash.
Through it all, Much keeps her face calm, her breathe even. Tzeniwe's busy fingers slow and then stop as she examines her handiwork in Much's bloodied arm. In the thick fur of Much's forearm there is now a series of circular domed welts. They are fully healed, belying the magical nature of the process. Taken as whole, they pull into the form of hyena, head cocked and mouth agape. "Much, you have released the rage that let you terrorize your opponents and freed yourself in the process. Your new familiar," here she pauses to indicate the pattern across Much's left arm, "will now serve that role for you. Treat her well, you are forever bonded." And then, without ceremony, it is done. Tzeniwe and Anchor Root slouch forward with relief and exhaustion. Haunt and Laesah move forward to embrace their friend.
"...but with friends like you all, I feel like I could climb the sky!" Kholo don't cry to express emotion, but Much's ears pull tight to her brow with empathy for Laesah: she's also knows the heavy weight that disappointing your elders can hold. Looking down at her smiling, disheveled friend with hands still locked with Haunt and Anchor Root, Much grins. Our ancestors would be proud of us today though, and we've certainly met the expectations of our new nest here.Looking up to scan the room. Much is shocked at the lack of casualties amongst her peers.
She sighs. You were right, Grandmother. Always right. I would give back the title warrior to have my packmates back instead." Much releases her friends' hand and reaches to the charm at her neck. The battle wasn't totally without loss, Harker's charm hangs split in half next to her Grandmother's knuckle. Her ears fall again and she moves away without mentioning it to her friends.
Much scans the encroaching chaos before calling out, "Anchor Root, you're with us!"
"It's to honor Tlehar, the Rising Sun." The amurrun explains to Ot. He points to his amulet, which has the face of the goddess on one side and her holy symbol on the other. "And the founder of the Tempest-Sun Mages, Azure Leopard." Much stands after Haunt, checks her mask a final time, and dons it. The thin metal frame that Post-It helped her create supports many thin wooden pieces forming a mask that covers her face completely below her eyes. Unlike Haunt's, Much's mask is unpainted; natural woods cleverly fastened together to form the face of a proud badger. "My mask honors diligence and tenacity and will serve as a reminder that strength can not overcome all things."
The bugs roll over Much and and she feels her gorge rising as they slide under her clothes and over her skin.
Loud and clear, Haunt!
"Harker, search boy!"
Much spends two weeks (and a small fortune on candles) writing an in-depth cross-cultural comparison of Anadi use of swung webs as weapons and Kholo stone-ropes. At 2 am on the Saturday of the second week, she realizes it is garbage. Comparing weaponry across cultures simply because they are both rope-based might be fine for a day of training, but it does nothing to enhance the Emerald Boughs' understanding of Anadi and Kholo culture. With some tears and more cursing, Much clears her desk and places a fresh sheet of velum on her desk. On the Saturday of the third week, whilst guiding Zachva and Zanvi through a live-capture bola attack drill on Pelaksana, inspiration strikes. Much returns the children to Tzeniwe, hugs each of them and rushes back to her still-blank sheet of velum. Nearly every free minute until the deadline is spent crafting a comparative analysis of the familial structures of Anadi and Kholo tribes, with a special emphasis on child-rearing. Pass or fail, this is good.
"She takes a deep breath, and cautiously reaches her hand out to touch the bone that hangs at Much's neck. She shows more of her throat and says, "And thank you, Great One. You guide your kin well. Wisdom and strength endure." Much steps back a moment, embarrassed to have been annoyed with Anchor Root before and for forgetting the weight of carrying someone as well-regarded as her Grandmother. The Kholo expression "Weight begets weight" runs through her head as she considers the small burden she has added to her own shoulders in being disrespectful to Anchor Root.Much bares her own throat, and let's her ears settle into what could hopefully be construed as 'mollified'. Much follows Laesah to the mess hall.
Much does her best to practice with Laeshah and Esi or Mafika, but her attendance is sporadic. In the evening, Much bends to her studies. She hates it, but hates failing more.
"I would love some tea. The stronger, the better. Thank you, Tzeniwe."
"The Kholo don't dance per se, but I think you will appreciated this."
Much is lounging nearby as Haunt speaks to Chizire. Chizire seems oblivious, but Much sees Haunt's ears perk up with sudden insight.
Much accepts her onyx puppy with shaking, bent ears of excitement.
As the crowd walks away, Much addresses her two compatriots. "We did well, but that was much closer than I would have hoped for. I didn't even think to use my new magics, not once. Hopefully we'll find to practice with Esi and the others before we face any more gremlins, or towel monsters!"
Much stalks out; her body still taut and thrumming post-battle. Turning back, her gaze locks onto Razorfern, towering over Esi and Mariama in his construct. The scene reminds Much of a story she knows well. She curls her lips into a snarling smile, and raises her stone rope up high before crying out.
World-building:
After defeating a Kholo army, an invading army worked their way south through the battlefield, killing any survivors on their push towards the Kholo village.
Useful links Druids
Wizards
All Students
Being in the wild with pack again brings a great lolling smile to Much's face that she can't contain. She lets her gear fall and lopes out towards the tree.
Much speaks in Kholo.
Spoiler: "I control the devil cat, do not fear. You may approach and kiss my feet. Then you must tell me everything you know of Kurshkin. Any prevarication will see you fed to my devil cat. Whoever pleases me most will be allowed to kiss my feet again and earn my blessing. Then you will leave my presence and this city, never to return, lest the bell cat come for you!"
"Do not speak directly to Hell's Belle, I am your Goddess! Kneel!" Much booms as she throws her arms out and her head back in what she hopes is a posture fit for a wrathful and beautiful Goddess.
Much's face screws up tight, searching for the proper words.
Much drops into a crouch and stares at the ground before continuing.
Much shrugs and rises up to meet the eyes of her packmates.
Like all Kholo, each morning for Much begins by taking on her weight. All things and responsibilities have weight in the pack. Things you can touch; tools, armor, cubs held in arms, or breasts heavy with milk have weight. Carrying them brings honor. So do words and actions. Kholo who don't carry their own weight, or who manage to carry the weight of others without impinging on their honor, are central to the pack's tales of villains and heroes. Most of the weight that Much brought with her to Magaambya was simple; mostly her armor and weapons. She dons her armor, wraps her stone rope around her waist and, for the first time, she adds her new component pouch. The pouch is light, but knowing what it has cost her tribe to get it, she knows carrying it will be a great burden and, hopefully, honor. Finally, Much raises her grandmother's knucklebone to her lips and prays. "Grandmother, please help my weight secure me and hold me to the right path. I will carry you with honor." Her grandmother's knucklebone is threaded next to another. Both are light and heavy, just like the pouch. Still, it brings her comfort to have them. With a kiss, Much slides the bone over her head on its leather thong, leaves her room and heads toward the bath to wash her face.
Flat on her back, tummy out for all to see, Much is mortified.
"So, do you want to go try the jumping spire? It's fun! And educational, probably!" Much smiles. It would require us to sneak outside against direct orders, and then somehow engage in bouncing...quietly. Sounds like a challenge."Much turns to Laesah. "What do you think Laesah, shall we test our new group's stealth and see the wonders of the campus at night?"
Much smiles at the the playful name Laesah has given her. She continues to paw through her component pouch as she replies.
Something like that, yes. It implies she's not a threat, or my equal. That last part is strange. At least at this school, her place is likely above mine.
Much rocked back on her heels slightly. I...thank you. Most of furless races can't see beyond our fur and fangs.She shrugged before speaking again. I suppose it might be worse for you, having so many more legs than they do. I do have a tail though, which is its own burden! I suppose that makes our adversities near even. Much met Laesah's eyes and let her own face fall into a lopsided panting grin, marking her attempt at humor. Oh, and Laesah, I don't have the sensitive nose of many Kholo. I also can't romance you with the perfume of my breath, like some of my cousins. So your secrets and dignity are safe with me. I am big and strong though, so my friendship does have some benefits. Much's smile reached her eyes before she turned way from the Anadi and back to Master Ot.
Much's ears rolled forward at the word "stone".
Much sat in a deep crouch and waited for several of the others to speak first. This proved to be inspired: she had not foreseen the slight young woman shape-changing into anything, let alone a spider. Let this be a lesson to you, Much. You do not even know what you do not know. I have seen giant spiders in the jungles of the Shisk. They may not evil, but they are always hungry and never picky. Yet this little one does not make my hackles rise the way they do. Still though, she moves like a woman well trained. I would be wise to have her be pack. Next the catman spoke. He spoke and moved with the languid charm Much envied in catfolk. To follow a monster and learn its ways as he described would earn the praise of her elders. Much approved as well. Cubs like stories of warriors that dash into battle with heed for the their enemies. But a heedless warrior is a dead warrior and is only good for songs for cubs. This is another creature that I would do well to stand beside. The Android was.. wholly outside Much's experience. She had seen catfolk and spiders (if no Anadi) and elves (which she assumed her final classmate was), but a man with metal legs and glowing tattoos wasn't even a thing that Much has dreamed of. Yet again, this was a creature deserving of her attention and respect. This is the world of magic, Much. Your size and power mean less here than ever. Trust your instincts, build your pack and learn quickly. Duty requires it. With that thought, Much rose slowly from her haunches. "I am Much. My pack hunts and trades on the plains to the south. My elders believe it has been too many generations since a Kholo of our pack studied here. So they have sponsored me to attend. I am honored to be here with each of you." Much promptly dropped back into a comfortable crouch and nodded to the final student in the room.
I'm so excited that I'm already 500 words into another story that I'm not sure I'll ever use. Also I started making my backup character, for when Jay kills Much. I had to stop when I realized that you can't use the thief dex to damage if you are a shisk using your arm quills. Lame! I thought a roguish porcuperson would be fun, but Paizo says no. That is MY first world problem for today.
|
