Bough -- Logs

The airship sails the winds of the Dreamtime, going from Yggdrasil towards Jericho. The first mortal city lies approximately midway between the Mirror, Mount Zion, and Mount Olympus; halfway through the trip, they can see the far-off peak of Olympus in the distance, hazy with distance and only a few clouds wreathing its snow-covered peak.

Mikal spends most of her time either curled up with her pack or grooming the ponies and the fey stag. She's feeling internally worn out -- so much senseless death! It's hard for her to mentally cope with; she doesn't let herself even think about spider-wasps.

She's struggling to find her internal equilibrium, although she doesn't have the words to say so -- to find a reason to hope. She doesn't want to bring back the previous pantheons just to have El-Amon-Re destroy them all again in yet another horrible orgy of holocaust.

Norris seems to have a difficult relationship with the towering mountain. The stories might not have gotten everything right, but being cast from Olympus....he remembers that like it was yesterday. It took a lot for his love and his mother to convince him to return...it's not so mugh heights in general as the mountain itself. But there was goodness there, too, he just needs to remember. And now, based on what the ravens told them, perhaps it can be brought back to life. Perhaps he can bring it all back, with a little perseverance and a lot of work.

Norris sits a lot with little Ferro, telling the kit stories of Aphrodite, and Hera, and Athena, and all the others. Continuing to talk with the gryphon like he expects it to understand..the tone, at least, if not the words.

The airship continues on, Olympus sinking somewhat over the horizon, but never fully disappearing. Eventually, though, up ahead, they see Jericho.

Or, at least, what Jericho has become.

The great walls now stand once again, as Joshua of the Israelites must have seen it before they fell. The city has experienced a renaissance as well, it seems, once again taking up her mantle of the 'City of Palm Trees.' How different than when they first visited! Buildings are in repair, the streets are trod well and cared-for, the stone and clay homes are in excellent shape. This is how she must have been in her prime. Babylon may be the City of Cities, but clearly Jericho is embracing her status as the First City.

Mikal is also deeply ambivalent about bringing back pantheons rooted inextricably within a hierarchical system which emphasizes -- in some cases, demands -- the subjugation and oppression of women and less physically capable men. Again, she doesn't have the words for her worries... but was the rise of those pantheons due to the growing influence of El-Amon-Re, or was it truly their own cruelty and thoughtlessness? Or... was it something inherently flawed in the mortals themselves?

Norris is less ambivalent about Jericho, and is glad to see matters have improved, along with the fixing of the old walls. It seems a lifetime ago that they were here, last! They were even very different people. He shows places he remembers from their last visit, to a perk-eared, attentive little grey gryphkit.

Mikal leans silently on the railing the day they're approaching, with Raphael's head resting on the railing next to her, and Lazuli crouched on her shoulder. The tiny griff-kit is clinging with his claws to the light leather jerkin Mikal wears, his eyes wide with excitement and his fur and feathers wind-ruffled as they fly. Mikal is back in her original clothing, the magical bow slung at her hip, while Raphael simply watches silently with his little half-sister as the ship approaches the newly spruced-up city.

"Brown hair zigzag around her face and a look of half-surprise,
Like a fox caught in the headlights, there was animal in her eyes.
Oh, she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing,
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away;
She was a lost child; oh, she was running wild-"

Mikal is a small, slight woman, dressed for comfortable practicality: light, embroidered leather vest and pants; soft boots and archer's gloves. On her back is a small pack; a shortsword and a powerful recurved bow hang at her sides. Her thick, curling brown hair is pulled back into an absently braided plait, windswept wisps coming loose to frame her warmly tanned face. She moves as silently as the drifting fog, and her storm-gray eyes are occasionally disconcertingly, piercingly direct.

The walls aren't the only things that appear to have been renovated, and new. The walls appear to be decorated. It isn't until the airship comes in for a landing at the docks that the group can see what the decorations are: Tabards, cuirasses, lances, other bits of armor and silver-stained white clothing, the remains of feathers. They must be remains -- and either trophies or warnings -- of angels who participated in the attack that Memory had mentioned, the one that the mortals had beaten back.

Jareth has been unusually quiet on the trip. His time has been spent with his packmates or sitting alone in the bow of the ship, writing down the stories of their journey so far.

Mikal blinks as she notices the 'decorations' on the walls, straightening to stare carefully at them. She's searching for any indicator of an archangel's goods in the booty.

There does not appear to be any examples of the large, elaborate armor that would be work by a massive archangel, though many of the suits of armor are themselves more elaborate than a typical angel of the Host might wear -- perhaps captains or legates wore these armors.

At the docks, there are a few surprises. First is an airship, Captain Wilmarth's airship in fact, which the group remembers from Snowcrest, the samebito village a day's travel from the Winter Palace, and which they visited seemingly ages ago. The second is the inscription carved into a large stone beside the gate:

For there's no gods and there's precious few heroes
But there's plenty on the dole in the Land o' the Leal
And it's time now to sweep the future clear
Of the lies of a past that we know was never real

Mikal pauses by the stone, staring silently at the words. Finally, not looking away from the words, she murmurs softly, "Are we... are we really doing the right thing, my packmates, in trying to bring back the gods? Or... would we do better to... to simply destroy El-Amon-Re as well, and let the mortals create and fight and love and fall as they will?"

Jareth blinks at the words and feels his heart go a little cold. It's a strange feeling this verse gives him. He cannot tell if it's hope or dread.

Norris does not have an immediate answer to this. "There are other things to consider, Mikal. One being that humans will akways find a way to muck things up, if there are gods, or not. Free will, and all that. And mightent there also be consequences of having a world utterly lacking in the divine?"

Mikal glances up at Norris, her gray eyes nearly empty -- for an instant that weary gaze clearly shows every one of the painful millennia she has lived. Then she blinks and looks away, murmuring, "I fear the consequences would all be beneficial, big brother."

Norris smiles wryly. "But you say that while carrying around the loneliness and frustration of Inanna. Where I think of it and miss a family that worked so hard to do good, even with the overweening influence of the storm patriarch. Even our own points of view are suspect, because we impose our own worldview on them. Don't all people, gods and aethyr, and mortals alike, do both good and evil, without seeing what they do, or have others do horrible things in the name of some greater cause that they think belongs to them?"

As they are standing there, one of the people in the crowd in front of them gives a slight exclaimation. "Well, I hadn't expected to see you again!" It's Belisarius, the mortal who had met the group the last time they were in Jericho, the archaologist/explorer/tourist. He appreoaches the group, looking cheerful and little the worse for wear. Still with dark brown hair and eyes and olive skin, he looks much as he did before, with only the addition of a falcatta at his side.

Norris perks at the approach of the archaeologist, glad to see a friendly face. "We've been up and gone and all over since we last saw you, yeah." He was still slow of wit, then, and this time grabs Belisarius's hand in a firm grip.

Belisarius (no relation to the historical one, at least that he admitted to) shakes Norris's hand warmly. "It's good to see you all again here." He grins a little, "You can probably tell there's been some changes here."

Jareth smiles, "Indeed. The city's making new stories."

Norris nods seriously. "We're all quite curious about it, if you don't mind saying. Seems like things are a little harrowing for you, as well." he comments, making note of the armament with a jut of his chin. "Perhaps we can sit, have a pint, and you cal tell us all about it?"

BoughGM nods, "Sure! There's a public house nearby. Hope you don't mind, it's a little noisy; a lot of the airship crews go there!"

Norris notes quietly, in his own mind, that the advent of Hepheastus has only benefited him. Made his life more complex? Sure. But he feels more like a whole person now, and the smith god agrees, now that he has two fully-functional legs when he changes form.

Jareth says, "Meeting some of the airship crews might be good. We have another old acquaintance in town."

Mikal watches silently, staring around her as she studies the re-formed town. So much return of life at beating back the angels... and it was mortals in a broken-down town that did so! She wonders in awe how it was accomplished -- when even the Rakshasa had trouble doing so.

Mikal carefully takes note of all the armaments or changes in defenses that she can; her internal deific tactician is coming to the fore.

Belisarius leads the group to the public house, a couple of lean and older -- and mellow, not terribly excitable -- greyhounds pacing him easily. AT first blush the city has experienced something of a renaissance, in that it is in good shape and well-tended. Mikal, looking specifically for such signs, finds lots of evidence of how the town might have beaten back the angelic attackers, but such signs are concealed and hidden. There are soldiers -- oh, they're in civilian garb, but the pikes and shields and bows and arrows are noticeable. The discrete gate guards are noticeble, of course, but there are a lot more guards, atop buildings and in towers, ever alert. The siege engines are harder to see, being kept off the main thoroughfares but through the occasional break in the rows of buildings she can spot trebuchets, ballistae, and even a few gonnes. Though it may not look it from this portion of the city, MIkal would have to guess that this is a city that still considers itself under siege.

But there surely must be more to it than this. The rakshasa had much the same siege engines at Mount Meru, and were being worn down by the angels.

Mikal frowns thoughtfully as she suddenly realizes -- this is a town... of mortals. Mortals which didn't wish to submit! That's the difference: the Dreamtime listens to mortals, reshaping itself to their desires. She shakes her head slowly in awe again as she looks around -- no wonder Mordred wants all mortal officers! This is a simply amazing example of their power when united.

Mikal crouches as the greyhounds circle her and Raphael, absently holding out a hand for them to sniff as she continues studying the city.

Jareth doesn't know what to look for, but he does stay close with Mikal and Norris as they walk with Belisarius.

Norris is still thinking of the question put to them by Mikal, and he wonders. WAsn't it the Godswar that made them vulnerable to the Aqal? Can mortals alone beat the wasps? Maybe for mortals to survive, the gods must return. Long before they suspected their heritage, they were daunted by the task of trying to destroy the Aqal all by themselves.

The greyhounds are quite happy to meet new people, and don't seem perturbed by Raphael's large teeth, probably because he doesn't seem threatening. These are older animals, mellow and content but still spry. In fact, besides the animals, and even a few animals, all the people that they see are overwhelmingly mortal; only a few aethers are about, and appear to be airship crews or caravaneers.

In the public house, it is indeed noisy; and Mikal spots more than a few guards within as well, mostly off duty. Still, Belisarius does somehow manage to get a table for them in one part of the pub, getting for them a round of rich nutty beers.

Mikal glances about in silent interest, utterly fascinated. This is the way to field an army! For all her dislike of Mordred's goals, the sheer power that would lie within an army composed of, say, mixed Rakshasa and mortals has the Queen of Love and War intrigued once more... and wondering how that might be accomplished!

Norris is still distracted by the time they get into the pub, by a thought. Could he understand the Lotus Seeds now, with the mind of Hephaestus? Could he make more, with their combined skills of mortal and god? What a thought that would be. He puts Ferro on the ground when he sits, petting his head and sending him to play with greyhounds and groom Raph.

The beers delivered, Belisarius raises his large mug. "Here's to you!" he says cheerfully. "Welcome back! It's always good to see a friendly face!"

Norris raises his mug right back. "Cheers, mate." he rumbles, clapping the heavy cup against Belisarius. "So, spill. What all happened, hey? Seems like you're loaded for bear."

Mikal glances back at Belisarius, distracted and smiling faintly. "Thank you." She smiles more sincerely as she remembers the last time she met the man -- she was completely Rabbit then, and had trouble getting two words out together without stuttering. She grins as she wonders at how different she must appear now.

Belisarius takes a pull of his beer as Norris asks his question. "Well," he says, setting the mug down. "Kind of amazing, actually. When we heard of the angels' defeat at Mount Meru, some of the townsfolk got together to discus it. That was about when the angels and the mortal Church Guard started to come around, trying to enforce their laws and their rule. At some point, someone took a swing at a Church Guardsman. Poor sod was executed on the spot... but a half-dozen people turned around and beat the snot out of the guards. It kind of escalated from there, but at some point the Guardsmen in the town were run out. That was when the town realized its die had been cast, and they started rebuilding the walls. A few angels came by to see what the deal was, and they got killed for their troubles. They managed to finish the walls and the siege engines and other things, right before the half-legion of angels showed up. After that... well, you saw the wall's new 'decorations.'"

Ferro prowls around the ground, but doesn't stay there too long. Very shortly he flits up into the rafters, chirping up a storm. Jareth's and Mikal's gryphkits also start to get agitated and start to move to fly into the rafters with their sibling.

Jareth turns at the noise and follows the gryphkits with his eyes. His posture straightens up as well, not liking whatever has them on edge.

Mikal glances up interestedly, calling softly to the kits, "What's up there, then?"

Mikal grins and stands with Raphael. The big raptor-wolf rears carefully up, bracing himself, and the slightly built young woman runs up his back to vault into the rafters. She glances around curiously for the kits, "What's bothering you all, kids?"

Norris peers at chirping, clearly curious, but maybe they just cornered something funny looking...at any rate, Mikal will look into it. "Die had been cast." he says thoughtfully. He always liked that turn of phrase. And wonders if the reference first came from metallurgy, or games of chance. "You've done well, then, keeping out the riff-raff." he rumbles approvingly. "Is it just the city, or have you made any alliances with other rebellious groups?"

There's some laughter in the pub as people watch Mikal clamber up into the rafters, and -- since she is an attractive, athletic young lady -- more than a few appreciative sounds; only one or two catcalls, however. At first glance as she's up there, it appears that the gryphkits simply like the higher vantage point and the lack of crowding.

Mikal's eyes narrow -- could there be something making itself invisible up here? She moves lightly and cautiously on all fours across the rafters towards the agitated gryphkits. Her voice is soft, "Hey, pretty babies. What'cha got up here, hmm?" She's studying the rafters carefully, searching for marks near the kits -- like no dust, or a shadow where none belongs.

Norris wonders if maybe the kits are imitating all the commotion down where they are...as he intently tries to hear the replies over the loudness. It certainly is boisterous in here.

THere is nothing that gives Mikal a hint that there's something amiss up here; the gryphkits seem to prefer the relative unclittered rafter area. Mikal does see what looks like a small door, however, cunningly set into the roof, and leading apparently into an attic or storage space above.

Mikal raises an interested eyebrow, running her slender fingers delicately over the hinges and latch, checking to see if it has been recently used. Are the gryphkits glancing at it, as if something went that way moments ago?

The gryphkits don't seem to be paying the hatch mutch attention; in fact, mostly they seem to be preening and grooming themselves.

Belisarius looks curiously up at Mikal. "Huh. What's she looking for up there?" he asks the other two,

Jareth chuckles a bit and says, "Iiiif I don't miss my guess, she's checking to see why they're all up there and excited."

The door doesn't look like it's been used recently, though it's been used, and it's not been

Belisarius frowns a little. "Huh, all right." He shrugs, then looks back to the other two. "So what, if anything, brings you back to Jericho?" he asks cheerfully.

Jareth chuckles and smiles a little wryly, "Something that would have been easier if the folks hereabouts hadn't gotten themselves together like this. We need a stone from the walls. One from the foundation, actually."

The door doesn't look like it's been used recently, though it's been used, and it's not been made obvious. It's at that point that the publican calls out, "Hey, you! Come down from there, this is a public house, not a gymmnasium!"

Belisarius answers Norris: "Well, we had some people come in from the area. Can't really say they were formal rebels, at least before they signed on. Jercho's not made any treaties that I know of yet.

Mikal glances over at the shout, then grins and gently draws the latch to lift the trapdoor -- she's curious as to what's up there.

The publican, a portly but somehow hard-edged man, says warningly, "I mean it! Don't make me have the guard come here!"

Norris looks at Jareth. "We should see if we couldn't get some of these disparate groups talking to each other, providing intelligence and support."

Before she drops down, Mikal can see briefly into the dim room beyond; it's some kind of store-room, with racks of objects, possibly weapons.. including one object set on a pedistal in the center of the storeroom, egg-shaped and about the size of a melon.

By the time Mikal has come down, the publican has stomped to the table, looking unhappy.

Mikal gently re-latches the trapdoor, a thoughtful expression on her face as she then swings downwards, hanging by her knees from a rafter for a moment before she whirls lightly around the rafter to drop into a three-point crouch. She straightens slowly, silently and expressionlessly watching the publican approach.

Mikal is turning over in her head: too large for a bail, but what sort of thing causes agitation in little creatures which are close to it?

Maybe a lotus seed? She tries to remember the last time she saw one, back at the aelfar castle -- how big was that?

Norris is on the verge of just using his mystical Calm on the publican...before he realizes, absently, how intrusive that might be. Using it to avoid combat with an enemy is one thing...using it against another person merely to avoid inconvenience is fairly abusive.

The piblican folds his arms. "This is a public house," he repeats sternly, "not a gymnasium! I'll not have people climbing o'er my rafters!"

One of the patrons says merrily, "Oh, come on, Nihe, it was a better show than you ever put on!" And there is much laughter.

In reply to Jareth, Balisarius blinks. "Well. You're not asking for much, are you! THe foundation stone's got to be buried under a few tons of rock. Not sure where to even start to find it.

Mikal smiles faintly, sweeping a graceful bow, "Your pardon, good publican. I'll try to remain firmly ground-bound from this point on in your inn."

Mikal turns to seat herself next to Jareth again, leaning slightly against him as she does so, in the hopes the innkeeper will depart.

Jareth wraps his arm around Mikal's shoulders easily, stroking her bicep and looking up at the publican.

Norris scratches his chin. "Well...can you at least tell us where it is? I think we can retrieve it without too much effort if we know where to look." Thinking, of course, that a little concerted effort from a Earth god is just what the doctor ordered.

Mikal sighs in soft pleasure, absently nuzzling against her beloved.

The publican seems somewhat mollified, and harrumphs and grumbles before going off to address other customers.

Mikal murmurs softly next to Jareth's ear, as if she's whispering sweet nothings, "Think there's a lotus seed upstairs, lover."

Belisarius purses his lips at Norris's questions. "Well... I have an idea of where it is. With the walls being rebuilt, it won't be easy to get to, but I can find it for you, sure." He takes another pull of beer. "I'm... going to guess that this isn't just academic interest," he says carefully.

Jareth's breath catches and he turns to nuzzle her temple, "That could be a very bad thing, beloved." His eyes flick up toward the rafters.

Norris looks at Belisarius earnestly. "We're working towards the same interests, friend. It's just that you all are focused on the town...we're looking at more 'big picture'." he assures. "A lot's happened since we last saw you, and we're kicked over a lot of anthills."

Mikal smiles faintly and leans her head towards Jareth. At his murmur she turns to look at him and nods, her stormy-gray eyes grave. "What do we do?"

Mikal considers a moment, then glances at Norris before she murmurs quietly to Jareth, "Also: how'd they get one here? Do you think Hephaestus might know how to... to use, to implement it?"

One of the waitstaff comes up at that point with a glass of something that smells sweet, setting it on the table. "From the scalawags in the corner, Miss," the server says wryly. "Probably in appreciation of your climbin' just now, and hoping to see more.

Jareth raises his eyes to see who these scalawags are.

Mikal laughs at that, then grins at the barmaid, "Dare I ask what this drink is?"

Belisarius's attention is on Norris. he purses his lips. "Yeah, I can imagine, but... why do you need the foundation stone?"

Mikal also glances over, her expression amused.

The 'scalawags' look to be a crew of ne'er-do-well airship sailors, riffraff who nevertheless apparently enjoy pretty, athletic girls 'exercising' -- that must be the word for it. The drink appears innocuous enough, a kind of sweet mead according to the server.

Norris looks at Belisarius seriously, leaning in as if sharing a big secret. "We're planning to spike the Metatron's wheel, and the foundation stone is needed for a ritual that will help us do that."

Mikal smiles faintly and nods to the barmaid, "Thanks then." She raises the glass in salute and nods once, still smiling, at the sailors -- then turns back to her group and sets the drink down on the table between them all. "Anyone want some mead?"

Norris looks at the mug, and lifts it, curiously taking a sip.

The group looks mildly disappointed that Mikal doesn't directly do more than just accept the drink, but don't press the issue. The activity in the pub returns to what it was when they at first entered.

Belisarius frowns to Norris. "The Metatron? Are you serious? What sort of ritual?"

Norris looks at Jareth. "I think this is your bailiwick? How is this supposed to work again?"

Mikal isn't really that interested in the sailors, since they aren't Wilmarth's crew, so she returns her attention to her Pack and Belisarius.

It's about then that Mikal notices Captain Wilmarth, in fact, trying to merrily wind her way through the crowd to sneak up behind Jareth.

Mikal snorts softly, then murmurs in very quiet amusement to her beloved, "Old lover at six o'clock, dear..."

Mikal grins at Belisarius, "Look, we want to make things better -- to lighten the heavy hand of the angels. Isn't the removal of tyranny worth it? Does it matter how we get there?" She's vaguely suspicious at all the questions the man is asking, and giving Jareth a chance to chat with the good Captain.

Jareth is starting to open his mouth to give Belisarius some explanation of using the Name to call and bind the Metatron when Mikal's warning makes him turn his head.

Bellisarius lets out a breath. "Well, between you and me, yes, it does matter. Ends don't justify the means, at least for me." He lets out a breath. "I can show you the foundation stone, certainly, since I'm pretty sure you're not angelic agents but I can't gaurantee that the city captains-general won't take issue with it being disturbed."

At that moment, a pair of hands almost but not quite manages to plce themselves over Jareth's eyes. "Ah, nuts!" Wilmarth says cheerfully. "You peeked!"

Jareth laughs and stands up, holding his arms out to hug the airship captain, "I could sit back down and pretend I didn't see you."

Mikal nods to Belisarius, beaming guilelessly at the young man, "We'd love to see it, at the very least." Curiously she adds, "Why do you say the ends don't justify the means? Did something bad happen here, or something?" She's carefully not looking at Jareth and the Captain -- and equally carefully making sure to give them both space. She's a little surprised at her sudden urge to put an arm around Jareth... and embarrassed.

Belisarius shakes his head. "No, nothing bad happened... admittedly, though, I wasn't too fond of the way the angels' bodies were displayed, but I can see why that was done. No, it's just, I've hard too many stories of what happens when someone says 'the end justifies the means' and it's never a good story, you know what I mean?"

Wilmarth laughs, and embraces Jareth tightly, "Silly man. It's just not the same. How have you been? I thought I'd never be seeing you again!"

Norris steeples his fingers. "Honestly, the plan we have is specifically to avoid further conflict and death. A dagger thrust right to the heart of the cancer, as it were."

Jareth hugs Wilmarth back and kisses her on both cheeks, "I couldn't even begin to tell you without a bottle of wine and several hours. It's good to see you, though."

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Last modified: 2008-Oct-04 19:17:18

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