Scared Horse

Tenebrae - Monday, April 04, 2016, 7:01 AM

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* H01: Kultari Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

From east to west, north to south, the Alexandrosian countryside weaves over hill, valley, and farmland. Kultari Road meanders through it at a comfortable pace. The roadside is lined with curbstones, their surfaces comfortably flat and warm, with sand pressed inbetween. At times construction meanders into dirt, and numerous pathways branch off here and there to different farmsteads.

Along this stretch is a waystation. Over its door is a carved marker with dual symbols of Gilead and Tarien, the patrons of travel and the meeting of wilderness-and-civilization, respectively. Not large, the waystation rests a comfortable ways from the main avenue, with a place for a firepit out front.

Towards the south, the sky and landscape darkens. The Felwood lies there, and an occasional screech from inhuman lungs may be heard.

Towards the east, the shining City of Alexandria.

A sylvanori you'd recognise as Iadoth is standing a few hundred yards uproad from the Waystation, holding onto the reins of a large black horse. Another grey one is walking casually nearby, but the black horse is almost refusing to be walked along, and is currently rearing up, angrily snorting at the air. Occasionally Iadoth places a hand on its flank and murmurs to it, but this seems only to infuriate it further.

Munch runs. He really tends to do that a lot. Not -from- anything, mind you; no no. If Munch the TerrorMaw were running -from- something, everyone would pretty much be screwed, so try not to think about that. No, the golem simply has muscles built with the finest materials, and backed by powerful magics. Getting tired isn't really his thing. And so, he runs. It's a lot like walking, but doesn't take as long. The metal man does, however, slow when there are others on the road, doubly so with horses. Those things are skittish under the best of situations.

"Munch!" Iadoth shouts as he approaches. "Your armlings are of stronger than mine. Please, with strengthening, help if!" She pulls hard on the reins, but the horse seems determined to bolt. "Help!"

Munch hesitates a moment, but moves to assist as requested. "Warning. Horses don't like me. I scare them." The truth of the situation is somewhat more complex, but time and language barriers suggest simplification.

Iadoth pauses, her brow furrowing as she tries to manage the simplified syntax under duress. "Not caring!" she shouts. "Scareder enough already, perhaps calming, maybe?" Her feet slide a little on the gravel, as the horse tries to pull her back down the road towards the Felwood from where they've come. Meanwhile, the grey horse calmly folds its front legs and moves to a sitting position.

Munch nods, and takes the rein. It's a little like tying it to a stout wooden post... but posts have a bit of give to them.

Iadoth appears to have a sudden flash of inspiration. As Munch takes the reins, effectively fixing the horse in place, the sil places her hands on its cheek, and, when it lowers its head momentarily, whispers something into its ears. Munch's heightened senses are probably capable of hearing what she says, but it sounds like no normal language. Instead, it sounds more like the whinnying and braying of a horse --- much like, in fact, what the grey horse on the ground is doing now. Even Iadoth seems surprised at the sounds coming from her mouth.

Munch blinks with a soft click, but hold still and quiet. He knows he's scary, espically to prey species. No reason to make things worse. That's not how his sense of humor runs, thankfully.

Gradually, the black horse appears to calm down. It's not entirely sure why, and nobody appears more surprised than Iadoth when it too folds its front legs and sits down on the Kultari Road next to its companion. Iadoth removes her hands from its cheeks, and stands fully, taking the reins back from Munch, and laying them on the floor.

"Thanking to you," Iadoth says. "I... am owing to you, some favour-debt."

Munch considers a moment, and shrugs. "Explain what you did, and consider the debt paid." He still keeping still, uncertain what exactly just happened.

The sila frowns, and sits down next to the horse, reaching a hand up to her own cheek. "I am not knowing, Master Hunter. But..." Iadoth furrows her brow deeply. "Something on my face, Master Hunter? I am feel... differentials."

And there is --- a strange, tan birthmark, about an inch from the right-hand corner of her mouth, in the shape of a horse's head in profile.

Aldean has arrived.

Munch blinks. And blinks again, his magicite eyes shifting hues. "Yes. There's a mark." The metal man considers a moment. "Here, just a sec." Slowly, he draws the massive battle axe from it's place upon his back, the adamantine blade shifting to that of a large halbred... with a flat shiny surface. Not a great mirror, but better than nothing. "View your reflection."

Munch and Iadoth are sitting on the ground next to a grey horse, and a black one, the latter panting heavily as if with great fatigue, but is now calm.

The wild sil is taken aback a little --- not just at the greataxe, but too, at her own reflection. This is not a sight Iadoth sees frequently, then. As she grows accustomed, she looks more and more closely at the mark on her cheek. "It is... like the horse-head, that." Gingerly, she touches it with one finger, then rubs it slightly. When it is not removed by the action, she holds up her left hand. "Master Hunter, is it similarly look-like to this?" On the back of this hand is another tan mark, shaped like the paw of a wolf or a dog.

Munch peers a moment, and nods, the axe returning to it's former shape as it's returned to its former location. "Different shape, but yes, is a similar type of mark. I've heard of mark of power, but nothing quite like this. When did you get that one?" he inquires, nodding to the paw-shaped mark.

Iadoth looks down from the greataxe, turning her attention to the back of her hand. "You are of recall, when attempt trap large creature? I am of success, but killed wolf mother, so rescued youngling. At time, I took youngling wolf, guided by Gilead. Care for, raise, train youngling wolf, now gone. At that time, mark on hand appeared. It is mark of Gilead, I am sureling."

Munch considers for several moments, and nods. "Gods are beyond me. I don't understand their favors. But sounds like is a mark of blessing."

The sila raises her left hand to her right cheek, holding the two marks together. "Stranger..." Iadoth says, softly. She holds it there for several moments, absently, before returning to the moment. "Master Hunter, for what purposeful are you outed here in distance of Felwood? More snipe hunting?"

Munch buzzes softly in amusement. "No, no hunting today. Not for myself anyway. Delivering messages and a few supplies for the Arena to some hunters out in the hills. Had they any messages in return, I'd take them back as well, but they didn't have any. What are you doing?"

Iadoth cocks her head, indicating the now-calm black horse. "I was collected a horse from Wayingstation, but she was bolting, ran ten mileage down Kultari Road. We are chased and brought back, but slowly, slowing more now. No progress today!" She laughs a little. "What is 'Thearena?'"

"'The Arena." Munch enunciates carefully. "Big building on the east side of the city, for Kor. Where people fight each other to practice, and become better. Many seats of others can watch." Considering a few moments, he inquires. "Do you speak a third language?" Another moment of consideration. "Humanoid language, that is?"

From one of the minor roads leading to a farmstead, a cheerfully whistled tune can be heard floating across the breeze. It's a jaunty tune, and one known to many in Alexandria, but it's a few more minutes before Aldean wanders into view, dressed only minimally for traveling as one who acknowledges the dangers of the road but doesn't mean to be gone long. He is indeed the source of the whistled tune.

Iadoth shakes her head sadly. "Not but Sildanyari, little Tradespeak, Master Hunter. The arena... yes, I have knowledge of, and have fought therein. Against an eaglefolk, of all things!" As she hears the bard approaching, the sila stands slowly, so as not to spook the horse, and waves to Aldean. "Master Bard!" she calls out. "Peace on your nest!"

Munch nods, and shrugs. Not speaking sildanyari himself, the idea is moot. Raising his own hand in greeting to the bard he nods hello. "What has you own this morn?"

THe whistling stops as Aldean spots ... familiar faces. "Oy, fair winds to the both o' ye," he calls, changing direction and heading over with his usual easy grin for the pair. "These days, I leave town when I be seekin' leave from the workin'," he notes with a baritone chuckle; his emphasis on "leave town" suggesting that it once was the opposite. "What brings ye out here?" The question is largely aimed at Munch but includes Iadoth as well.

Munch shrugs. "I was delivering some messages and supplies on behalf of the Arena, happened by which she needed a hand."

The sila smiles at Aldean, not meeting his eye as is customary. "To collecting a horse, which freed herselves. Good horse, very strong, borrowed for journeying." Iadoth looks at the horse, which calms down more and more as the moments pass. "Then receiving new marked of Gilead." She indicates the little birthmark on her right cheek.

It takes Aldean a moment, but finally he nods. "Hunter likes ye, does 'e?" The words are accompanied by a grin, and he nods acknowledgement to Munch. "Be ye all right with that?" he asks, more gently.

Munch nods listening, and shrugs to Aldean. "I've heard of such marks, but not witnessed the arrival of one before."

Iadoth sighs, and looks at the black horse curiously. "I was abling to speak with horse, as if speaking with creature like you or my or..." She looks at Munch. "You."

Aldean has disconnected.

Munch blinks, unsure. "Me, in particular, or humanoid speaking Tradespeak, such as myself?"

"You, in particulars." Iadoth looks at the war golem. "I am unsurely of wordings, in Tradespeak, for metal humanoid. I am unsurely even in Sildanyari."

You say, "'War golem' is the typical term for self-aware constructs. But there are none other quite like me." The metal man considers a moment. "Though I do think those Levathian were modeled with some of my construction notes..."

The sila bows her head deeply. "I am sorries," Iadoth murmurs. "I met none of war golems in the Vast. Here, too, they are uncommon. What is 'levathian'?"

Munch nods. "Very few places are common. Alexandros has more than most, and still not many. A Levathian was a guardian construct in Gustav, a place far across the sea. They were very, very big, a little like a snake, with a skull for a head. They made sure people did not leave their homes after dark. I didn't like them much."

"Gustav..." Iadoth murmurs, mimicking the speech of the construct. "A place of which I have no hearing, no knowledge. Not even in /cofgân/, that is maybe song-memory."

Munch nods. "My homeland. Or rather, where I was made. This is my home, now."

Aldean has connected.

"Where is?" Iadoth asks, her interest piqued. "I know of places called Am'shere, homerland of sith-makar, but this Gustav, never." Her head still remains bowed, as if ashamed of her own lack of knowledge.

Munch points off west. "Far, across the inland sea, past the Kindgom of the Lion, on the southern shores of the Sea of Ea, far west of Veyshan."

Aldean's been silent, listening to this, although blonde eyebrows lift at the mention of the Leviathans, as if this is new to him as well. He does not interrupt, letting Munch explain.

Iadoth's eyes widen at the mention of each of these faraway places. "Of these, only of Veyshan do I knowing. Of that mysticalling place, there many strands of the /cofgân/, the song-memory." She nods to Aldean. "You are knowing of such song-memory, Master Bard."

Munch shrugs lightly. "The world is a very big place. I've traveled more than most, but there are still many great parts I've yet to see. Many I know nothing about. And many things in them I do not know. This... 'song memory', isn't something I know."

"Aye, I'm followin' ye, lass." Aldean flashes a reassuring grin at Iadoth. "Be many songs an' tales o' Veyshan, an' they ain't tell o' but half of the place, really. Kingdom o' the Lion be a nation in Myrddion, mighta hear tell o' that. She means songs an' tales written about places an' in places, mate. Come from everywhere, an' ain't all still livin'."

Iadoth furrows her brow deeply, wrestling with the words in her head, but trying to piece them together in correct Tradespeak. "I am to meaning, this: each place has singing, and songs, and musicalness. These are things which are told, passed, given away, traded. Too, are travelling --- songs of Veyshanti worlds told in places of Alexandros, of Myrddion, perhaps maybe even Mythwood." This last she pronounces with wonder. "But, too, people die, move on, pass by. Songs stick with singers, and musicers, and so. My mothers remembering these songs, pass on to me. So I remember of Veyshanti past, and Myrddion past, and perhaps know some of present places too." She winces. "Does that making sense, Master Hunter?"

Munch nods. "I believe I understand. Gustav... wasn't a place of music. I... didn't see much of it, before I left. Rythmn, maybe. But not so much music. When i went back, for the Hammer of Creation, it was... very grey. Very... controled."

"Even rhythm be a music o' sorts, y'know," Aldean observes. "Sounds like a place ye'd not want to be, aye?"

Iadoth nods along to Aldean's comment, remaining silent. Absently she strokes the black horse's mane with her marked left hand, quietly humming the refrain from a song with a distinctly Veyshanti lilt.

Munch considers, and shrugs. "I don't want to live there. Not sure they'd let me. I would like to go back, do a few things. Look up some of my creators notes. Check some other projects that might relate to my core workings. See how one of those Levathian stand up to someone fighting back. Stuff like that. But no, it's not a place for me."

"Huh." Aldean considers that, scratching at his jawline with a blocky hand. "Ain't no magic, all artifice? Ain't s'pose they keep Kulthian records there at all."

The black horse snorts suddenly, and Iadoth retracts her hand quickly. The Veyshanti shanty ceases just as abruptly. She looks up at her companions. "Even rhythm of hammers in forge is music to some. There must be song-memory in fall of hammer, still. Perhaps rhythm of homeland is to teach more to you of creator, than can learn from writings."

Munch shrugs, nodding to Iadoth, before turning to Aldean. "I'm sure there are wizards, but I don't recall ever seeing any. Clerics exist, the temple to Reos was pretty impressive. But yeah, artifice is everything. Like, -everything-. I mean, I hardly condem artifice by any means, I -am- artifice. But... it can be taken too far. And that's Gustav."

Aldean's still thinking hard, judging by the scratch at his jawline, almost absently by now. "Kulthians used both, mind ... don't s'pose Gustav'd hold with that. Mayhaps. Ain't s'pose it be possible ffer an outsider to visit."

The sila, still thinking about song-memory and rhythm, begins to tap out a tune on her bracken-coated boots, and nodding along. Whilst she listens to the conversation, Iadoth has almost no knowledge of what they speak --- that much is clear from the glazed expression on her face. Still, she seems content in her ignorance.

Munch nods. "Part of why I went with the mission. Technically, I wasn't suppose to leave, so technically, it's okay if I go back. Still, was quite the trip." The golem hesitates. Surely there's nothing which worries the TerrorMaw, but... "...you familiar with the gnome, FizzleFuse? He made the teleport happen."

"Can't say as I've met 'im. Heard the name, though ain't heard he were tied to Gustav." Hmmm. Aldean's still thinking, and lapses into momentary silence himself.

Munch nods. "I'm not sure, but I think he's from there. Pretty confidant he's visited. I think the head advisor was his girlfriend." The golem shrugs and glances towards the distant city. "Anyway, I'd best be going. Be seeing you."

Iadoth has disconnected.

"Aye. Fair winds to the both o' ye." Raising a hand in farewell, Aldean turns his steps in the direction of the city in the east as well.