Ironstead in High Spirits - RPLOG
Participants
Date
10/3/480
Log
It's been a long trek from Firmament. At least two days of travel-time with the horses and the wagon the Strongheart have provided, potentially more. Still, while the road is long and winding, the journey seems to be almost at an end. Up ahead, there's the small town of Ironstead, looking... Quite lively, actually.
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
