Revision as of 22:15, 10 March 2017

Participants

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

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?"