Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* Northern Hills *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

	 The forest gives way the further northeast that one travels, as the ground becomes more solid and fertile earth and soil begins to give way to harder packed clay and stone. The terrain also begins to roll more often, lifting in mounds that allow glimpses of the terrain ahead, which consists of a breathtaking view of the vast expanse of the mountain ranges northeast of Alexandria. A single wagon trail, well worn by the passing of merchants winds dutifully onwards towards these mountains, where the efforts of dwarven workers over many past years have allowed trails to be cut through for traders from further East to have access to Alexandria's ports and goods. 

	 The trees are particularly thinned out here, though clumps of them still grow here and there where their roots can find soil to bury themselves into. 

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Svarshan        Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon!                      0s   1h

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Wayfarer's Inn <WI> Merchant Road <NE> Ferry Crossing <W> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

<Meet> You offer to meet Kama'o.

Kama'o has arrived.

<Meet> Kama'o joins you.

It's Ceriday, Callem 06 19:36:37 1013. The full moon is up. The tide is low and slack.

The sun sets, the western clouds turning purple, red, and gold. It's hazy and warm.

GAME: Kama'o rolls climb: (15)+5: 20

Foothills! This is a perfect place for an Egalrin who's a little afraid of low places to make a nest for the night. Kama'o has dragged herself up in a small copse of fir trees, methodically grasping branches with hands, feet, and beak as she ascends to greater heights. Right now, she's making no effort to conceal her presence, so the branches are swaying wildly as they are forced to support her weight.

With the clouds turning purple overhead, the shadows of the trail of swiftclaws is twice as long. A herd of them pace in front of a mounted sith'makar...he pauses, looks back towards the setting Sun. Its golden warmth spreads over the horizon, beginning to fade for the first time that day. He makes a sign with his claws of a winged creature before starting at the noise. The swifts in front of him look about, as though ready to take advantage of his momentary inattention.

Announcement: Whirlpool shouts, "All right. My scene today is a little slender. I'm going to extend an invite to anyone who's level 5 and pages me and is available. :)"

Kama'o turns to eye the creatures. She's not too far off the ground, but she doesn't seem overly concerned with the beasts. Instead, she gives them a predator-stare. Auntie is not impressed by your antics, she tells them, with her eyes. Also, remember to wash behind your ear-holes and visit your mother in Am'shere once a week. The Egalrin lets out a soft screech, just to confirm the fact that she's not food.

The herd looks at one another, and one brave soul steps forward. And opens his mou--and is growled at by his mother. Srassha bares her teeth and takes a half-step forward, sending the herd scuttling backwards. Most of them bear similar markings to the female swift, and while she eyes them like a bulldog, her rider leans forward in the saddle...and looks up. "Saa," he says. "Blessings of the Ancestors to you."

"I see you, Dragon-kin." Kama'o bobs her head in approval of the female swift's tactics, and watches the group carefully for a moment or two before hauling herself another few feet up into the trees. Fifteen birds...in five fir trees... Ahem. "Do your people have dark-eyes, that you ride into the sunset?" She settles herself on a more comfortable branch (which just happens to be a ways above the height a swifclaw can jump...she didn't get to be over two centuries by taking chances...) and stretches her wings out, catching the last rays of the light.

"...we have dark eyes," he says slowly, as he deciphers her words. Or guesses at them. "We did not...before. But now we have them." He leans back and the leather of the saddle creaks. Srassha shifts beneath on automatic and continues to eye her offspring. "What..." he trails off, and looks up towards the hills. The mountains beyond. "One supposes this is your home."

"Before?" Kama'o might be able to pass herself off to a human as only vaguely interested, but Svarshan will notice her feathers sleek down, her balance shift slightly forward, her pupil dilate to better focus on him. "Before...what?" As for the rest, she dismisses it with a cawing sound. "This is too low and too far south to be my home. Kama'o is just sleeping here because it is nice outside. And Kama'o cannot figure out what these...beds? Beds, yes? Beds are for. You cannot perch on them."

"They are uncomfortable," after a pause. A genuine, warm humor comes with them. His hand comes to rest on the pommel, and Srassha, deciding they aren't to go anywhere for a while, settles down. Her tail sinks downward, and her neck relaxes...after a while, her children follow suit...a nervous sort of following, predator-twitchy. "I have never found them...good. And that...is a long story."

"They are...not as bad as the flat streets." Kama'o lifts one zygodactylous foot up, easily balancing on the other, to show him that her kind were not made for running on flat surfaces. After a moment, she pulls out something that looks a little like yarn, only perhaps more stiff, and a shapeless lump of the stuff that appears to have been half-fashioned into...something. The excess loops start going over talons on her lifted foot, and others over talons on her hands. "Kama'o appreciates your time, Dragon-kin. Perhaps Kama'o could give you a story in return?"

He watches the movement of the 'yarn' for a while in silent curiosity. Smoke trails from his muzzle--clouds, as he jerks his head up, as someone caught in thought before realizing they're being spoken to. "It is a..." and after a while, he decides, simply, "Yes. ...are those for one-foot-in-front-of-the-other?" The predatory swifts shift restlessly--one of the youngsters snaps idly at another.

Kama'o takes the end of the yarn in her beak and begins deftly looping it through the loops on her claws with her beak. It's clear she has years of practice at it, and it seems similar to knitting, or crocheting...only the Egalrin does not need hooks or needles. Amusingly, she also does not seem to need her beak to talk, although some of the letters in Tradespeak come out a little slurred as she continues to weave. "They are for eggs and chicks-withou'-feathers," she replies. "To 'eep them warm. We make them from...hmm. It hangs, from the cliffs, and turns red in au'umn. We have to chew it several seasons to make it soft enough to weave." She pauses for a few moments, then asks, "What story would you like to hear?"

"...any you would tell," a slow smile. "Though I have not been to the mountains...much. I went once, when it was white-and-cold. I prefer the fire and lava. Those mountains." The younger swifts continue their dance a while with snaps and nips. Youthful pecking orders, settling down. Svarshan watches the weaving a while before giving a shake of his head.

"Well." Kama'o seems pleased with his request. She makes the loops without really even looking at them due to a lifetime of practice. "Have you heard the tale of Ipu'ima and the Great Silver?" Of course he hasn't, but she pauses for effect anyway. It is clear that she is a natural storyteller. Unfortunately, her player has more hangups, so one will have to bear with her. "Ipu'ima was a...hmm. She was young, but too old to be terribly foolish. This was in the Days Before, when the silly males were in charge, and making a terrible mess of things. The males of her clan said that she had to mate with Ipu'ama. Now, Ipu'ama was a fine figure of an Egalrin, with bright feathers and a handsome eye. Many of the young females would have loved to have been his mate, but Ipu'ima saw that he was still foolish sometimes, and occasionally cruel, and she did not want to have chicks with him."

Svarshan snorts softly, and Srassha reacts to the noise. Her head comes up briefly...and then back down. Her eyes are half-closed and she gives a cavernous yaaaawwn. Her teeth show briefly, with a bit of leftover breakfast between them. "Saaa. ...do you hear that, girl? Sometimes, the males are in charge." He gives her a grin, and she looks up from her yawn. And eyes her rider before tossing her head in disbelief. Princess.

"Psh. Males have no sense. They do not think of the chicks. This story is the same: the silly males insisted, and the day of the bonding crept closer and closer. The night before she was to be mated to Ipu'ama, Ipu'ima put some food, and a firestick, and a ball of string, and a small knife, and a single bead, and a bottle of spirits into her backpack. Ipu'ima crept out of the aerie in the dark of the night, and poured the bottle of spirits into the guard's cups before she left so that no one would know she had left until late the next morning. By then, it would be too late to follow her, she thought. But Ipu'ama heard her sneaking out, and though he had no time to pack, he followed her and flew after her in the night. Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama flew for many days northward like that, Ipu'ima always ahead of Ipu'ama, until they met a cold north wind that forced them down into the mountains. There was much snow there, so even with their feathers they were very, very cold. Ipu'ima took pity on Ipu'ama, and shared her food and firestick with him, so that they were fed and warm, and killed the pack of wolves with the knife, so that they did not become food and so that they had even more food." Kama'o's story is accompanied by several brief gestures and a decent amount of body language, though never so much as to interrupt her weaving.

Srassha stands up straighter as the story weaves on. She eyes her rider, and he watches her wryly. He has the markings of heading towards the years of scar-legs, though is not there yet, and so cuffs her for the look. And gets a snort in response.

"Saa." He tells her, as he listens to Kama'o.

And she snorts, Srassha does. And eyes the herd in front of them.

"When the snow stopped in the morning, Ipu'ima used what was left of the spirits to melt the snow into some steps," clearly this requires a little suspension of disbelief or a REALLY big bottle, "so that they could climb out of the snow, which had kept falling until it was far over their heads. They found themselves in a valley that they could not fly out of. The only way out was to climb up a massive sheet of ice, bigger than any other glacier in the world. Ipu'ima used her ball of string to tie them together, so that if one slipped, the other one would catch them before they fell. And they climbed, Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama, together up the massive cliff, a climb which is immortalized in the song, 'Ipu alla llwella *screech*' Ipu'ima found that Ipu'ama had much strength, and could pull them up spots that her muscles could not, but Ipu'ama found that Ipu'ima could see better than he could, and it was easier when she planned which way they should go. It took them a whole week to climb the cliff, and they would have died if they had not had food. The two were completely exhausted as they pulled themselves up over the top of the cliff. And what is it that you think they saw then?" Kama'o asks, her eyes alight.

"...they would have seen the Sun," Svarshan says, and of course--she asked a paladin. He looks at her solemnly, because--that is the only thing one could imagine seeing. Srassha lowers her head to snuff at the earth. After a while, her stance changes...relaxes...and then changes again.

Kama'o lets out a long screech of delight. "Poor Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama thought that they would see the sun, yes, but instead, they found themselves face to face with a great silver dragon...the biggest silver dragon you ever did see! It had been sitting at the top, waiting for them to climb up to them. And it looked at them, and they looked at it, and they were too exhausted to do anything but lean on one another. The silver dragon looked at them for a while, and then said, "I am hungry, but I would hear your story. If it pleases me, perhaps I will not eat you."" She makes the silver dragon voice deep and booming. "Of course, the good silver dragon was realy just bored had no intention of eating them," Kama'o confides, "but Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama did not know that! They told their story, and declared their love for one another, which had grown through their many adventures."

At the beginning, the brightscale looks dissapointed. Disbelief covers his features, and then sharp interest. He looks towards Kama'o out of the corner of his eye...and if he is paying more attention...Srassha shudders beneath, giving it away. She looks up from where she had been investigating a rock, and looks from one to the other. "Did the dragon have a name?"

Kama'o lets out a soft caw. "We call her the Great Silver, in our language...I do not know what her true name was. We do not speak the dragon's language easily." Really. She hadn't spoken to him in Draconic two days ago. HE WAS DREAMING. "In any case, even though they were in love, Ipu'ima did not want to be bonded to Ipu'ama, because at that time, bonding was such a thing that he would be in charge of her, and eventually he would be in charge of all the Egalrin. Ipu'ima told the silver dragon this, and the great dragon nodded. 'It seems to me,' the dragon said, 'That a leader should be prepared for anything. They should have a bottle of spirits to melt snow, and a ball of twine to rope themselves to another Egalrin, and a small knife to kill wolves, and a firestick to start a fire.' Ipu'ama became upset at these words, and said that he would have packed those things had he had time, and that he would make the best leader. And do you know what the Great Silver said?"

Svarshan snorts softly, because Srassha has lifted her head. She looks towards Kama'o with bright eyes and appears to nod, in her own way. Kind of sticking out her tongue at her rider--except, you know, a /Princess/ doesn't do that. She stands higher, though, and lifts her chin. One of her offspring happens to look over, and ducks his head and moves out of the way.

"She said," Kama'o is positively beaming now, as her audience is held captive (literally, in some cases), "That is fair. But surely no leader would leave home without a gift to dissuade a hungry dragon from eating them.' And Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama looked at one another, and Ipu'ima took the small bead from her pack and gently put it on the Great Silver's smallest talon. "Here is the smallest of small gifts for you, great dragon. Please do not eat us.' Ipu'ama had no gift, so he bowed his head. 'You are very wise, great dragon,' he told her, after a few moments. 'Please spare us, that we may take your wisdom back to our people. Instead of bondign Ipu'ima to me, I will be bound to her, and it will be like that among our people forevermore.' Of course, the dragon laughed at Ipu'ima and Ipu'ama, and told them that she did not plan to eat them. They went home, and Ipu'ama proved to be true to his word, and was bonded to Ipu'ima. From that day forth, males were bonded to females, rather than the other way around, and those with good sense rule the roosts, while the males fight for us." Kama'o bobs her head in a slight bow, and continues working, though the sun has long set. Definitely something she's been doing for a while now.

Another, softer snort and Srassha shakes her head. Svarshan looks at Kama'o oddly from the corner of his eyes before gathering up the reins. "Settle," he says quietly to the swift and after a while, she does. ..."It is a...it gives me thought," is his way of putting it, and there is more there but whatever the words are he stays silent for a time, and reflects on them in his own time, his own way. And begins to say a thing...and does not. And then tries again: "My people have looked to the wisdom of Scales for generations." And the words sound like an opening.

But again, the stop.

Putting words together.

"Kama'o thought you might like that story, with its Great Silver and its fearsome mountains in it." The elder Egalrin finally stops weaving--night has well and truly fallen, and it must be too hard for even her to see the pattern. She picks the loops of twine off of her talons and packs the whole thing back into her pack, simply bending her head backwards to do so. "We have certainly never regretted following the Great Silver's advice," she adds, a bit more quietly. She seems to be willing to give him time to think about what it is that she has said as she settles herself more comfortably in the tree.

He eyes her more oddly still, and lets go a quiet breath of smoke and ash. "Seaa. One will...think." And after that there is silent, and the shadows grow more purple, and longer. His tail flicks down the side of the saddle blanket, and thumps against his mount's hide. "I will have to think on this, Kama'o the Storyteller. ..." he waves a hand towards the shifting herd. "...and I will think as I watch them, and take them to-hunt. I owe you a story." Pause, pause. Phrasing.

Words.

"I will return this way in a week. Will you be here then?"

"A story is like a...like a magic cup, that fills up when it spills out. Kama'o is glad to share her stories with you." The older Egalrin looks at the sky, and then bobs her head in a nod. "Yes. My bones are weary. It is too late to begin a story as important as I think your is." Another long pause. "Ceiwen and Cernan willing, yes, Kama'o will meet you out here in a week at sunset. Ceiwen fly with you, Dragon-kin."

Svarshan goes OOC.