Latest revision as of 12:45, 14 March 2017

Participants

• Cirrus
• Fenris
• Flora
• Iorek
• Krove
• Mal

Notable NPCs

• Anne-Marie Snowfeather

Date

10/3/480

Log

The sounds of a veritable feast come from inside the town, and the scents seem to be matching. Sweet scents, savoury ones, everything one might expect from a royal banquet...

It appears Ironstead didn't exactly get the message about its own disappearance.

The ride was indeed long, Cirrus arriving somewhat near the front of the caravan on a horse, straddling the steed with her armor removed, for the time being. No point in wearing such heavy gear when there's no combat expected, after all. The snow leopard came dressed precisely as nicely as she was expected to, and not a bit more, claymore strapped to her back and an impressively long string of waterskins hanging from her hip. "Huh."

The Coyote stuck near the back of the group, shoulders hunched as he followed along quietly. Mal takes a swig from his flask, ears flicking with the sounds of a banquet. "Ain't it a little early to be feasting?" he mutters, eyeing the town.

Fenris has quite enjoyed this trip, riding a fine, and impressively large horse provided by the Stronghearts. His own purple buffalo is sturdy, but not really suited for this sort of travel. The big tiger is wearing his unusual, but protective uniform along with his long, sleeveless coat that shows off shining bands of metal on his arms. He has spent most of the trip singing songs and telling stories and only recently stowed his small, travel guitar. His little silvery otter golem is draped over his horse's saddle in front of him.

"Sounds like a false alarm," the tiger says with a smile, "Funny that there hasn't been any word. Guess the messengers all decided to stay on for the festival." Not that that actually makes sense, but the big feline seems relaxed enough as they move toward the town.

Last time, there had been a spirit behind a giant scene of sleeping bodies, in stables, in kitchens, even the infirmary. The disappearance and silence of another town seemed too easy to not notice; but nobody was sleeping here. He didn't like it. And the Thera'doran coyote still had the physician's eye, when he wasn't busy giving the stink eye to the whole venture. "That seems highly unlikely." He didn't like it, but there had to be another solution--and he could think of one quite readily. "More likely, we're in a Spirit's Domain. The consequences for dereliction of duty would be harsher than any succlent morsel could be." They were already asleep, perhaps? "I wouldn't be surprised if this was a dream."

Iorek looks rather weary as he sits riding shotgun on the wagon beside the drive, the canine having tried to stay on alert as much as possible throughout the trip, gripping his bow in one hand as it rests on his lap. The smell of feating sets his mine at ease as he seems to relax a bit, stretching his limbs with a large yawn.

They dog has spent most of the trip in silence unless directly addressed, giving short dismissive answers if it was anything but work, travelling has always made him edgey... mostly all the time he spent travelling alone. Krove's revelation of it being a spirits domain sets him on ege, however.

"Lad. Lord Strongheart sent one of his own cousins. He'd be in for a treat if he didn't even write home, and it's been more than a week since the Lord hired you. Something's definitely amiss," the hawk steering the cart offers.

"So, we're going in?" he ventures, waiting a moment, before steering the horses further into town, where various beings are busy setting up decorations, banners, and so on.

All in all, the place is certainly lively, even though it doesn't look like any of the beings are working on their actual -jobs-.

Closer to the center of the town, in front of the church, is the large feast, with various fowl, fruit, and pastries stalled out for everyone to partake.

Cirrus peers at the feast. She's tempted to take an apple, but, that'd be rude, without asking anyone. She glances over at the other beings in the convoy, trying to gauge their reaction to the town. "So... uh, where do we go from here? Shall we go look inside the church? Maybe the priest has something to say."

Mal eyes some of the beings, eyes narrowing as he notices...tusks. He nudges the closest companion and gestures to one such being. "Tusks," he comments. The Freesword's only ever encountered one Spirit with a penchant for tusks and feasts. With that knowledge, the Coyote turns to the head of the feast...

Fenris smiles around at the festivities, steering his huge horse closer to the wagon and the hawk driving it. "Oh yes," he says quietly, but still smiling, "Something is almost definitely amiss. Or possibly a mister. Hard to tell at this point." He shoots a looks toward Krove, but is not willing to talk out loud about Spirits as they walk through the streets.

The big tiger pulls his horse up a little to talk to one of the beings putting up banners. "What is the occasion?" he asks pleasantly, "Is anyone invited? I had not heard about a festival up this way!" He glances back to Mal with a reassuring smile, but takes notice of the coyote's observation.

Tusks. Krove hisses in frustration, before fishing through his satchel for something to keep his wits about him. "Dammit! And here I left my dental equipment behind." He casts a discerning eye over the general population. "They're pale. Sickly. Can't see anything properly diseased about them, though."

Disease was around to be cured, but spirits just cheated, and there was nothing he could do about it. "I don't like this one bit." He quickly pours out a bit of one of his herbal tinctures, soaking a rag, before tying it around his face. He would keep his wits about him, today--and checked his smelling salts again. Didn't want to mix those up twice.

Iorek hops down from the cart, happy to be in town and wanting to have a better look around "Hey, you are you?" he says to a passing civilian, giving them a look over. He passes past a few people with a few greetings before helping himself to some of the food, starving after a few days on the road. He scoops up a few pastries, holding one in his mouth as he catches up with the party

"Finding the priest won't be necessary, miss. Here she comes," a tusked crow offers to Cirrus, gesturing up at the church doors at the top of the stairs, which swing open to reveal a bespectacled, slender owl. She certainly looks wise beyond her ears, and she's carrying a tattered copy of the first text in her hands.

The otter Fenris approaches simply smiles broadly, showing off his tusks. "Isn't life worth celebrating?" he offers with a smile, before gesturing along. "Please, follow along. The stable is just around the corner," he offers, as various beings reach for the reigns to everyone's horses.

Iorek gets a similar smile and a nod, before gesturing to the town square.

"Welcome! Welcome! It seems we have more visitors today? Please, stay a while, enjoy the feast. Don't worry about lodgings for the night, our inn is readily available. After all, we don't often get a lot of visitors at once," the Owl finally offers, gesturing out at the crowd and smiling lightly.

"Oh. That's... convenient." Cirrus responds to the crow, eyeing their tusks with a raised brow. She shakes her head, instead turning to look at the owl, scratching behind her head while an ear tilts confusedly to the side. The leopard opens her mouth to say something, closes it, shakes her head, and asks the head priest, "What... what is this feast about? Is there some celebration today?

Mal shakes his head and takes another swig from his flask, eyeing those sickly Beings before turning his attention to the Owl...seems normal enough. Except for that First Text. The Coyote's getting a weird vibe from that thing. Maybe it's because he hasn't been to Church in a while. "...Should pay Benna a visit sometime..." he murmurs, slipping the flask into a pocket as he looks around the town square.

Fenris can certainly see that something is going on. Either this town has a congenital dental problem unique to its denizens, or well, a familiar boar has made a lot of friends here. Still, the tiger sees no reason to worry.

"Lead the way," he says, allowing the otter to take the reigns as he turns his attention to the preparations and festivities, "It's good to know that things are going so well for Ironstead."

This was a request from the priesthood; obviously this couldn't be so vile and defamed as he had once thought it to be, if the priests were involved. Despite the scent of alcohol, ammonnia, and enough pungent herbs to chase off a plague, the request seems reasonable. "Right. I'll follow your lead, Fenris," Krove says, though his facemask. Best to keep together, after all.

Iorek bites down the pastry in his mouth hastily, thinking it was rude to join in before getting permission "Oh I'm sorry I kinda already did, thanks though. If you guys throw parties like this I'm surprised you don't get more tourists, I may have to come back. Inn sounds good though, sitting on that wagon for two days is a little rough and I could use a drink or... well, several."

A smile from the priestess, a gesture at the food. "We are celebrating life. We are celebrating freedom. We are celebrating the fact that we've thrown off the shackles of oppression," she offers, smiling as she reads from her First Text quite convincingly... Certainly not a common verse, though. "A being is their own, beholden to no-one but themselves."

Slowly but certainly, she moves down the stairs, moving with grace and efficiency. "More importantly, though. What brings our honorable visitors to this little town?" she offers, as she, too, partakes in the feast, however lightly.

Fenris and Krove are quickly guided to the stables, where the horses are stabled, and soon, they're guided back to the feast.

"Oppression from... who?" Cirrus asks, tilting her head to the side, following the priest back down the stairs with quick steps. The leopard's tail sways quietly behind her, before she shakes her head and answers the question. "We've come to check up on this town, more or less. There wasn't a word out of here for... well, a while."

After seeing to his horse and returning, Fenris listens to the Priestess. Thrown off the shackles of oppression, huh? How recently could that be?

"We are grateful for the warm welcome," he says sincerely, "I was sort of hoping that we might find Leonard Strongheart. His Uncle had hoped to hear from him and is worried. Has he been here?"

"Needed to get out of Firmament. Stretch my legs, the usual," Mal mutters, rubbing his pendant absent-mindedly. Maybe plot a murder while he's out here. It hasn't been a pleasant week for the Coyote...

The Thera'Dorian clears his throat and looks around, a hand resting on his flask as he steps out of the way, attention swapping between the various beings passing by, and the Owl. The others have got this, no need to pipe up.

Oppression? That was the natural order of things, in Sweetwater. Nobility only cared to make a difference when it cut into their profits, or if pushed aggressively. But... this was different. Krove scratches at his forehead for a moment, before nodding to Fenris' question. "Are you setting up self-governance?" If they were, they were being absolutely stupid about it. "You're going to die for this, unless you're prepared to mount a defense against reprisals from the aristocracy. What are your defenses? Do you have any spies on the road?" He could help, with this. If the Church was supposed to be functioning here, there was a need to get the church some support, help the people seize control of their own lives. "What do you have for munitions? How can we help?" That last sentence was probably really, really dumb to say. But he wasn't really thinking straight, all things considered.

Iorek looks around his companions a little confused, he thought they were just celebrating being free, surely anyone can relate to that? "Um... aren't you guys all... what are you talking about, aren't you waaaaay of base here? We've been in town all of 3 minutes, not even introduced ourselves and you are giving an inquisition and plotting a what, war?"

"Haven't seen him, I'm afraid," the priestess offers, shaking her head lightly. "You are free to stay at the inn if you think it'll aid your investigation though, mister...?" she offers, a smile on her lips.

"The church, holding information back. The crown and Nobility, holding the people back. The Creators. Holding Promise as a whole back."

"Your concern is noted, but you needn't worry," she offers, as she takes another bite of food.

"Please, enjoy our hospitality," she repeats, brushing Iorek off for the time being. "We are not planning a war. So long as the Crown leaves us be in peace, nothing of note will be happening," she continues, smiling faintly.

Ah. Cirrus' tail flicks, glancing around at the rest of the town somewhat suspiciously. "Do tell me, what do you think the chances are that the crown is going to cede territory to... well, anyone? It's not going to end well for anyone if the army gets wind of this." Her hands clench nervously, itching to hold her claymore's grip again.

"And... what information is the church holding back?" The leopard presses on. "Is there something we should know?"

Fenris makes note. Both of the Owl's words and of Krove's. He hopes that he is not going to have to put down a revolution or anything. That is rather more work than he is willing to do. For now, he is just here to learn what there is to learn.

"I am sorry to hear that," he says, returning the priestess's smile, "And you can call me Fenris. I am something of a. . . Seeker of truth. Your town seems to be," he hesitates, looking for the right words, "Spiritually uplifted," he finally settles, idly snagging a bit of food as he walks along with the owl. Olloch's food had never hurt him yet. And Olloch and his people generally made GOOD food.

The tiger realizes that he is probably with exactly the wrong group of hot heads for this kind of situation. This ought to get exciting.

A seeker of truth? Enlightened? But none of these fit with the concept of the Church 'hiding information'. "You've gone soft in the head," he says, with more than a little venom. Not like he's got a lot of ethos while he's wearing the mask of a surgeon on his face, and just ranting about things. "You have no clue what you're saying on anything! Do you want everyone here to die? Creators, what are we without the Church? There's safety, and peace! Community, prosperity, and organization divinely proclaimed by the First Text!" Not the most convincing oration, perhaps, but he's incensed enough. "You don't guard your people, you feast when you should fret, and you deny the Church!" He wants to say more, but settles for an angry finger waggle.

Iorek feels more and more like he has missed something everyone else has noticed and not bothered to communicate and in part decides to remain quiet for a while and listen, enjoying the rest of the pastries he picked up. He is however, enraged by Krove's outburst as his hackles rish "Oh I'm sorry, there is prosperity in the Shanty town? There is a community in our town with outcasts?! Do you understand what it feels like to start as one of the members of this society people would rather forget about! You stand there like you aren't even good enough to breath the air we breathe, I don't understand why someone such as you would even lower yourself to travelling from your cushy little dwelling all the way out-!" The canine stops and takes a breath "You know what, this is neither the time nor the lpace, if people need my help with anything, I will be here to do my job but until then I will keep my opinion to myself."

A smile on the priestess's lips, a small shake of her head as she walks with Fenris, disregarding Krove's outburst entirely. "So far, nothing has happened yet, has it? Even you, sent by Lord Strongheart himself, seem to be talking, rather than acting. In fact, one of you offered their assistance just a moment ago," she offers, as she gestures back at Krove.

"Of course we deny the church. You do realize what the other priests keep in their vaults, don't you?" she offers, a gentle smile on her lips, before she turns to Iorek. "Your offer is appreciated. We'll have to see, no? I'm sure we can find a use for our new friends."

"We'll have to see, no, miss Longtail?" the owl offers with a smile, a gesture at the town. "But should the crown attack, that would prove our point quite clearly, wouldn't it?"

"As for you... Mister Fenris, I believe? I will take it as a compliment. And I would just -love- to hear of these truths you've found."

Cirrus takes a half-step back, squinting at the owl with her hands reaching halfway to the hilt of her sword. No drawing, not yet, but the snow leopard had never told the owl her first name, much less her last. "I... what. How did you..."

The Coyote quirks an brow at the namedrop, but remains silent, taking a sip from his flask. Either they've got some good intelligence, or there's some spooky Spirit magic at work. Mal glances at the tusked beings and sighs. Like spooky Spirit magic would come as a surprise. It'd be a good idea to keep an eye on the Owl and her freaky First Text...

"I did say, 'Seeker,'" Fenris says, "Never said I had found it yet." He hardly seems put out by the naming of names. He is pretty sure he knows what sort of world he has stepped into at this point. "I have met a lot of people though, learned a few names, seen a few unusual places," he says and waves a hand at the town in general, "This place, for example, is a little outside the norm. Were there so many beings with tusks when you first arrived? Or is that a recent dental acquisition?" He is not accusatory, just pleasantly conversational.

Iorek's outburst is completely justified--if ill-placed. Anything the Church couldn't do was do to the restrictions placed on their actions by the aristocracy and nobility! The church was the only hope for those in the slums... they'd discussed this with Priestess Benna not more than a few weeks back! But it truly would hurt, this. And it cows the physician for just a moment, until Fenris begins speaking again. Yes, the spirits! "There's... some sort of miasma. Many beings are pale and sickly. I would like to know who your surgeon is, or see the priest's notes. The malady is beyond my grasp, but surely you have something I could look at to explain this."

Iorek follows along, almost literally biting his tongue as he keeps his mention of silence. At Fenris' mention of tusked individuals though, not to mention Krove's mention people looking sickly as he begins to notice the three subsets of townsfolk. 'Odd' he thinks to himself, or at least that's what his expression seems to convey he is thinking.

"You ask a lot of questions you shouldn't be, mister Fenris. I can see why you're working for your current employer," the owl offers with a smile, as she plucks another bit of food from the table.

"I would say it is a recent development. It takes a while to show people the light, after all," she continues, smiling lightly.

"Tomorrow, you may examine them, with their permission. Like I said, every being is their own. But you will find that my flock is in peak physical condition, each and every one of them."

"Please, stay a few more days. We have a special feast planned in a day or two, before we get back to our all-important work."

Cirrus huffs, turning around and heading off towards the caravan, stopping once she's a respectable distance away from the creepy owl, and more near the edges of the town proper. The leopard is unlikely to take any food from the feast table, now, and she'll probably end up sleeping in the cart, further away from the town. She sighs, turning over a nearby crate to sit down on top of it, grumbling quietly to herself about avians.

Mal grabs a bottle of vodka off the table, don't lie, the nose knows, and follows after the Feline, propping himself up against the cart as he drinks the last of the alcohol in his flask. "Suspicious to you, too?" he asks Cirrus, looking over the vodka he grabbed.

"What can I say?" Fenris asks with an easy smile, "I am inquisitive. And I suppose we have a bit of time to spare. I am sorry to find that Leonard is not here." The tiger looks around for the hawk driver who came here with them, sampling a few pastries offered to him. All this talk of seeing the light bothers him, but he can't quite bring himself to be worried about it or to question it too deeply. He looks at the owl priestess over his snack. "Five," he says thoughtfully as a vibrant, green question mark appears on his cheek, "I count five so far."

At least he could do an examination--not that it would prove anything but spiritual tampering, if he was right. Although, for the sake of science, he did want to know what would happen if he practiced some aggressive dentistry on some of the tuskier inhabitants. "Surely you can be persuaded to discuss your findings. If you really have seen the light, then it will be obvious through rational discussion."

Not that he was actually rational about these heretics abandoning the Church at all--but if he could catch this blasphemer in her words, he might have a ready-made mob to tear her heresy down. "Truth is truth, after all."

Iorek noticing that the group is splitting in two, he opts to go with the group sitting back away from the pretentious doctor, following Mal's example, he grabs a bottle of vodka from the table and follows after them "I apologise for losing my cool, That's a... touchy subject for me, but I didn't notice before with the tusks, and the... well I don't know how to describe the other people, kinda gaunt and pale but they don't look ill... all I noticed where people looked a little like they dressed rather untidy, which I can't really hold against them.

"Five, mister Fenris? Surely, you must mean four?" she offers with a smile on her lips, a small glance towards Krove. "Should you wish to see the devices the Churchs wishes to hide from you, pay a visit to the church tomorrow. I am certain you will see things differently afterwards," she offers with a smile on her lips, a glance back to Fenris.

Cirrus tips a nod to Mal, eyeing the way back to the wagon warily. "Suspicious, indeed. They shouldn't... well, she knew where I was from without me even telling them. Which is suspicious to the max." The leopard undoes the straps to her claymore and sheath, pulling from her back to rest the sword in her lap. "Shoulda wore my armor down here. It's packed away in the wagon."

"Should've planned for this," Mal comments, watching the Owl from where he leans. "I just brought my usual; knives, daggers, a pistol." The Coyote smirks and takes a swig from the bottle. "You know, everday tools." He nods to Iorek and shrugs. "No worries. Nobody's judging. Well, the others might be judging, but I ain't," he says to reassure the fellow Rogue, grinning at the Dog.

The Coyote grins at Iorek. "Didja bring your cards? I think we got time for a quick game, yanno."

Fenris shakes his head at the owl. "No," he says, tapping his head, "I mean five. But I imagine that they have told you that I am a sucker for a mystery, so I will stick around. Now!" he says suddenly, clapping his hands, "Who has a guitar or something around here? What is a party without music?"

A party without music is... "A riot, possibly, Fenris. Or a mob." Of all the things to latch on to, of what Fenris said, this seemed the one easiest to handle. And here he was well and stuck: On the one hand, evidence spoke louder than words--on the other, purity of rhetoric demanded that anything true could be proven so by the laws of logic. "Priestess--surely if it is illuminating, it's to be shared!"

"You will see, Mister Krove. You'll see. The townspeople know, but you wouldn't believe them if you didn't see with your own eyes," she offers with a smile, a soft click of her beak. "But all in due time. You will be in town a while longer, I am sure of it," she offers, as she gestures for one of the beings to fetch Fenris a lute. "Of course. I've heard tales of your talents. All of them," she notes, still smiling warmly towards Fenris.

"I am sure you are familiar with the Sacred Doctor, mister Krove? What if I told you the church was hiding yet more powerful tools to combat disease?"

Fenris accepts the lute and claims an old barrel as a seat where he starts to play. He has not gone far though and raises an eyebrow at the owl's claim. "More powerful than the sacred doctors?" he asks.

That was striking--but he couldn't just take it at that. Benna would know. Benna would tell him. "If the Church isn't using it, I suspect it's full of Creator's Wrath. Anyone using it plays a dangerous game." He was still full of spit and vinegar, but... that was about it. He was losing his edge. "And it means nothing without the proper principles, laid out by the Creators."

"The sacred doctor heals. This machine cures. It prevents. And the church would keep it locked in its vaults, where it simply does no good at all. You do know what the first text is, don't you? The third section, in particular," she offers with a smile.

"The church would hide that knowledge from you, but with the proper guidance, you could operate any Creator machine, no matter how much Wrath it contains," she offers with a smile, a gesture.

"Of course, the Church would never trust you with the machines."

Fenris watches and listens as his fingers trip over the strings of the lute in a fast dancing tune. He seems to come to a conclusion and the ? vanishes from his cheek. He knows more than he is ever going to tell about the church's vaults, but he can't shake his interest in the owl's claims.

Frowning deeply, Krove sets his chin with the fanatic's determination. "They would not." Perhaps he was relying a bit amply on the fact that he was rather... affectionate with one of the clergy, but he still was confident. "There's a reason for it, I'm sure. And we can reason it out together." He just needed to get more time with the Text, figure out the reasoning.

"What do those in power want, Krove?" the owl offers with a smile. "Is it to help? Or is it to stay in power? You've seen the way Cliffside works. You've seen the way Sweetwater works. What makes the church any different?"

She moves to the table, and takes another apple, before shrugging lightly. "Why would the Creators be any different? If they wanted beings to be on the same footing, they could teach, they could show. But instead, they lord over us from the stars, deny us their technology. Technology that could be saving thousands of lives. They could use their technology to save lives, even without teaching us. And yet, they let good beings die. Does that sound just to you?"

"Promise is like the Shanties of the Creators' empire."

Fenris laughs out loud at the owl's comment, though his playing never stops. "Hardly!" he says, "We are no shanty town! We're more of a very strange ant farm!" He offers no more explanation, launching into a sing along with the beings attending the party.

He's not doing well. Krove's struggle is weakening--but Fenris' humor helps. "Ant farm--an experiment. There's a difference between the Creators, and the Creator Saints." He's a bit on the ropes, though. The principles are different. Why are they different? Why can't people be saved? Creator technology is enough to end plagues, to stop death in its tracks... "No, it's not the Church. They're keeping us safe, wherever they can. You couldn't get anywhere without the First Text. You're using it now--they want to help us."

"Read it then, Krove. Just try to read it," the owl offers, a smile on her lips, as she gestures the deer over, gesturing at her copy of the first text.

"An antfarm, Fenris? Surely, that's a fate even worse, no? That they'd see us as little more than curiousities, a plaything, an experiment," she counters, smiling faintly.

"I'm sure there's good beings in the church. Just like there are well-intentioned nobles, royals and councilmembers. But the institution itself is, dare I say... Corrupt?"

It hurts. He can tell that he's looking at the first text, but at the same time... it's--it's just not right. He squints and rubs at his head. "No--I--" He's got to figure it out, but it doesn't come together. "What... no." He couldn't do it, but there had to be some way to fix it. Maybe Fenris would know. "Could I borrow this, for the night? Study it?"

Fenris leaves whatever crowd he has manager to gather to sing the chorus. "You are thirty years too young to be twisting me around," he laughs, "I doubt you have anything I want for a price I will pay."

"It would return to me without anything you could do about it," the owl offers, before shaking her head, as she closes the text once again. "Now, I could offer you the means to learn, to read. To see with your own eyes," she offers with a smile on her lips, a shake of the head. "But not now. As for you, Mister Fenris. I am sure. We'll just have to see what Mister Krove thinks, won't we?"

This... it wouldn't solve things, would it? He frowns in frustration, trying to piece it all together. "No. I doubt I could afford the price." Fenris was something of an anchor. He could listen to the bard, and head back in peace. "We'll debate more on the morrow." He grunts, and turns away, feeling sorely defeated. He couldn't bear to call that a proper debate, not on his end.