| Logs |
2009 February 08
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Second Movement, Fourth Verse
Dawn comes to the Dreamtime, and though Thebes is far from the Mirror the light is bright and unrelenting, and the temperature starts to go up immediately. All five members of the group awaken to several cats contentedly napping upon or beside them; almost all, it is interesting to note, have some sort of jewelry or ribbon, or something pretty in them, even though most appear to be all but feral, or at least not pets.
Norris doesn't seem to mind all that much finding a large black cat sleeping on him, purring contentedly. He does look up at the big feline tough, looking thoughtfully at him - or her, he can't know - as the cat opens their eyes slowly to regard the big man. "Kin yew talk?" he asks inquiringly.
The stories from the night before were fascinating to Jareth and he had to work hard at letting the satyr get some sleep instead of talking all night. The aspiring bard then drank a bit on his own, considering doing a bit of tom-catting and finding, oddly, that he was content just to soak up the place. After the rest of the party are asleep, he spends a quiet hour or two prowling the streets, looking at the place when there are less people about. Eventually, however, it dawns on him that it might not be wise to be in a strange place on his own. It amuses him to find out that he's sort of bracketed on all sides by cats and he spends a few minutes just soaking up the purring.
Tomas carefully extricates himself from the cats. Hearing Norris, he mutters "Just what we need, a talking cat."
The cats are silent to Norris's question, though several look at him with sleepy feline eyes. As people begin to move, most vacate their now-mobile perches, though a few hunker down as if by sheer presence they can keep their humans from moving.
Mikal awakens and stretches contentedly -- sleeping with friendly animals and kin heaped all around and on her is the absolute best way to do so, as far as she's concerned! She doesn't hurry in getting up, but when Iron Antlers finally heaves to his hooves and gives her an impatiently hungry nudge, she laughs and gets up to feed him his daily morning handful of sweet molasses oats. The warmth and cuddly closeness of the animals makes her feel extraordinarily peaceful and relaxed, and as she stretches out and packs and dresses, she finds herself first humming, then cheerfully singing, "Joshua fit th' battle a' Jericho! Jericho! Jericho! Joshua fit th' battle a' Jericho, an' the walls come a'tumblin' dooooown!"
Tomas hurmphs at Mikal.
Norris gently displaces the cat atop him, through he does pet a bit in his lap. "Yew a song-writer now, Mikal?" he queries, curious.
Mikal giggles at one lovely soft gray and cream tortie that seems determined to hold Raphael in place, murmuring, "Lazy bones!" She searches through her pockets, then finds a short bit of pretty colored ribbon, and she weaves it into a loosely fitting decorative collar for the kitty as she grins at Norris, "Me? Nono, I'm just repeating that song Jareth sang yesterday, remember?"
Raphael opens an eye, then closes it, sighing relaxedly. He's got an excellent excuse to not leap up and run about, really! He wouldn't want to disturb the native sitting on him, right? Right? Mikal giggles again.
Norris huhs, scratching his head. "Don't think I rightly do. Prolly jus' mah memory." he replies good naturedly, daubing a cloth into a basin and wiping down his armpits and chest.
The cat on Raphael, in fact, who seems to be about as large compared to other cats as Raph is to wolves or dogs, has not even opened his eyes.
Mikal scritches the big tomcat gently under the chin and around the ears, murmuring appreciatively to him, then looks up at Norris and grins, "That's all right! I bet you'll remember stuff soon too." She looks around then, adding, "Where's Ataraxos? Did he get enough sleep and food? Can we go soon?" She adds cheerfully to the tom, "You can come too, if you want. There's plenty of room on Iron Antlers' rump, and I doubt he'd even notice the weight!"
Jareth chuckles and shrugs out of his shirt, deciding maybe he'd better wash up a bit, "I let him get to sleep pretty early."
Ataraxos is just managing to wake himself up as well, yawning. "I'm awake!" he says. "Quite awake now, yes. I should be ready shortly...." Meanwhile the tom on raphael makes no indication it understands Mikal at this time.
Norris passes the washbin over to Jareth, and starts putting on his padded underclothes.
Mikal tchs amusedly at Jareth, "Naughty! That's our guide you're exhausting, you know!" She falls silent, watching both men washing up and smiling faintly as she continues to gently scritch the tomcat.
Jareth grins at Mikal and winks good-naturedly, humming the same song.
Mikal laughs and cheerfully starts quietly singing along with him! She stops singing once everyone's dressed, instead carefully scooping up the big tortie and settling him on Iron Antlers' rump, "There, do you like that?"
Jareth arches a brow at Mikal and laughs, "Another companion, little rabbit?"
Norris hmmphs as he's dressing...and then he looks sideways at Jareth, suddenly wondering exactly what they were doing last night. He's never seen pretty Jareth with another man, but...he's heard stories.
Tomas says, "At least is doesn't talk. Or does it?"
The tortie finally blinks open it's eyes, standing and shaking itself a bit and giving a loud 'mowk' of a yawn. It looks a bit surprised at being on the rump of a fey-stag.
Norris shrugs. "Caint say. Mikal assures me that Raph talks, but ah aint heard nothing out of him yet."
Mikal is rather lightly dressed herself too -- for what she usually wears. Loose trousers, her ubiquitous soft leather boots, and what's effectively a tank top. She grins at Jareth, her tone firmly teasing, "One can never have too many friends, no?" She giggles at the kitty, standing on tiptoe to continue gently scritching his chin. Raphael glances at Norris as he finally rises and stretches luxuriously -- and snorts clearly at the big man. She glances over her shoulder at Tomas, "Not like we talk, no -- not that I've noticed yet, at least? He talks kitty, you know?"
Jareth grins back, retying his ponytail, "Never, sweetheart."
Mikal beams at Jareth, inordinately pleased!
Ataraxos comes down shortly, scrubbed and clean and faintly damp from a brief washing. He looks alert and awake as he pulls on his light pack. "I think I'm ready when everyone is..."
Tomas chuckles
Mikal says, "All right! Let's go, then!"
Norris frowns at Raph. "Don't yew snort an me, biggun. Ah lissen real careful, no mah fault that Mikal's smarter'n me." he drawls, waggling a finger at the wolf.
Jareth grins at the satyr and says, "Thanks for the stories last night, Ataraxos. Sorry I kept you up so late."
Tomas looks at Ataraxos. "Which way?"
Mikal heads out at a brisk walk, her pack on her back and her gorytus hanging on the saddle. She's humming the song again, occasionally taking skipping steps, and she cheerfully calls to the others, "It's such a lovely day -- feels like a good walking day, don't you think?" Iron Antlers flicks his big ears at Jareth, then turns and strides relaxedly after the small girl, completely unworried about the big tomcat still riding his rump. Raphael shakes once, starting at his nose and letting it travel down his body all the way to the tail tip... then he grins at Norris and snorts again! He heads out after Mikal at a brisk trot, his tongue lolling contentedly out of his well-fanged jaws.
The tortie seems to be content to remain in Thebes, though he's grateful for the height boost, and as Iron Antlers moves out, the cat makes a brief leap onto a low awning, and begins to look for breakfast, but there doesn't seem to be any lacking for that. He does, however, follow the group along for a bit, along the awnings and low roofs as the group make their way out of town.
Aaraxos points out the two massive, distant mountains, barely visible through the distance and haze and clouds, though their white-capped peaks can be seen. The mountains are almost opposite each other with Thebes in the middle. "That one's Mount Olympus," he says, pointing to the widdershins one, then he points to the deosil one. "And that one's Zion. Jericho is in the foothills of Mount Zion, so we're heading in that direction."
Tomas shoulders his glaive and follows the satyr.
Mikal grins and waves as the tomcat finally pauses, calling, "Goodbye! Thanks for the company!" She nods at Ataraxos' words, then cheerfully heads in the direction he indicates.
Norris finishes rearmoring himself, wondering if he's going to need his armor today. They haven't gotten in any serious fights yet...but now they were going into enemy occupied territory. Could be bad, He resolves to be alert, for the sake of his friends.
Jareth leads his horse along, singing under his breath and seeming content with the world at large.
Norris gathers his own horse and joins the others, making sure his maul is properly situated in his sling.
The trip takes several days. Mikal spends more than some of that hunting along the route; there aren't a lot of large animals here, mostly smaller ones suited to the somewhat arid environs. And that's something that the group notices as they appraoch Mount Zion: the temperature remains fairly comfortable if warm, but the humidity plummets. It becomes very, very dry, and starts to take an effort to not notice thirst or drying out. Fortunately, little pockets of clean water and vegetation are scattered here and there through the expanses of low, dry grass and sagebrush, areas which Ataraxos calls an 'oasis.' The satyr is, in fact, no wearing a loincloth, which considering the stringy fur along his legs is probably for the best.
Mount Zion looms high and large over them as they near it; it seems impossible that a mountain can actually be that high. As they near it, they start to remember stories from the church in Staunton, about how the One's home in the heavens was a mighty mountain... and it's perhaps most disturbing that the mountain begins to remind them of that.
The trip takes several days, and interestingly after Dawn of the last day of the trip, clouds have gathered above, and a light but heavy-landing rain has begun, with the rumble of distant thunder rolling over the plain. Jericho ahead is a bit more ramshackle than Thebes, certainly not as glorious. Most of the buildings are one or two stories, made from granite or standstone and whitewashed or plastered over to seal out the elements and the midday heat. There are few doors so much as heavy curtains, and while there is some bustle and what looks like a market from outside the town, it appears fairly sleepy.
As the group approaches, the rain begins to pick up, and Ataraxos makes a quiet noise. "This might turn into a monsoon," he says cautiously. "If it does, we'll need to get into shelter quick. You've never seen the sky open up like in a monsoon.
As they approach Jericho, a thought strikes Tomas. He starts checking his horse for brand, ear notches or anything else that might be an identifying mark. "Better late then never," he mutters softly.
As best as Tomas can tell, there is no identifying marks or symbols on the horse to mark it as from anywhere in particular or belonging to someone.
Mikal has started wearing lighter and lighter clothing as the trip progresses, and she's turned an even nut-brown on her exposed skin from the sun. She's currently barefoot and in a light, sleeveless, thigh-length, belted tunic, comfortably slouched in the saddle on the big fey-stag's back. She gives Tomas a curious glance, "What's wrong, Tomas?"
Norris had started to strip down a bit, taking off his armor the first couple days...and then stripping out of his padded shirt as it gets hotter. Even he can only take so much, particularly when it seems that there clearly is no real danger of being attacked. And every now and then mops at the sweat rolling over his muscled chest. His abs and chest are not , perhaps, that well defined...but that's because he's naturally strong, not because he works that hard at it. That said...he's not half bad looking with his shirt off. He stays alert, though, keeping his brow clear so that sweat doesn't drip into his eyes.
Tomas says, "I would hate to have to explain how we got these horses if we ran across the people who owned them, but they don't seem to be branded in any way."
Mikal smiles down at Tomas, "They're not, Tomas. Er, not marked at all." She says, "I checked for that when we first got them, you know? So we could return them if possible."
Jareth strips down the first few days and then starts to turn a rather painful red and reluctantly puts his shirt back on.
Mikal winces at sight of Jareth's reaction to the sun, solemnly offering him a salve from her pack.
Tomas keeps his shirt on, and, like the old campaigner he is, grumbles about the heat.
Jareth eventually even borrows a scarf or kerchief and wraps it over his head to keep the sun off. He thanks Mikal for the salve and asks her to help him with getting it spread evenly over his back, silently glad he didn't get stripped down any further.
Ataraxos gives some suggestions as to battling getting sunburned, including some local plants -- one called aloe vera -- which seem to help.
Norris tans much more naturally...but seeing Jareth's reaction to the sun, he eventually desides to put his undershirt back on. No reason to tempt fate. It's hotter here than it has ever been.
Mikal nods cheerfully to Ataraxos as she lightly spreads the salve over Jareth's back one evening, "That's what this salve is from, actually! It's quite wonderful how much it does -- it's one of those many-use types of plants." She grins and runs her salve-damp fingers down Jareth's nose once she's done, "There, that should keep you from burning."
Jareth almost falls asleep with his head on his pulled-up knees as Mikal puts the salve on and snorts at her when she puts it on his nose. "Thanks, Mikal." He's been slowly leaving behind calling her rabbit.
Mikal grins cheerfully, "Any time, Jarr!" She glances around, the open jar still in one hand, "Is everyone else all right too?"
Tomas says, "I will when we get out of this &^%**%%$#!@#! heat."
Jareth smirks a little and says, "Tomas, there aren't any priests around to hound you for being undressed. You can take some of that off, you know."
Norris watches Mikal lay hands on Jareth, looking thoughtful. It all seems innocent enough. Still. He can't help but wonder if maybe there's a little something more in the touching. Or maybe it's his own fault, cause he's been wondering about men and women himself after Okori's earlier commentary. "I'm aright." he assures Mikal when she asks, looking sidelong at the swearing Tomas."
Tomas says, "I burn worse than you. I'd rather be hot then burnt."
Mikal blinks at Tomas... then smiles faintly, turning to stopper the jar and put it carefully away. "You're always so grumpy, Tomas. Is there anything we can do to help you?"
Tomas says, "Nope."
Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully at Tomas... then sighs and nods, "All right." She straightens on the feystag's back, "Hey, where are we going once we're there, guys? Do you know? And, um... are we supposed to be, er... Cat and Badger and Bear and Wolf and Rabbit again?"
Tomas says, "And Goat?"
Jareth chuckles and climbs up onto his own mount, stroking the horse's mane, "Might be wise."
Tomas says, "Ataraxos, you know any inns or hostles where we can get out of the rain?"
Mikal blinks, thinking and looking around at the group... then she puzzledly asks Tomas, "Who's Goat?"
Norris jerks a thumb at Ataraxos. He smiles. Even he got that.
Tomas says, "Ataraxos. If we are all taking cover names, he needs one as well."
Mikal laughs! She strokes the damp fur of the big fey-stag's thick mane, "Sure, Iron Antlers can be Goat!"
Ataraxos shakes his head, "I've only been to Jericho once, and that was a long time ago. My guess would be to ask around once we get there...."
Mikal grins down at Ataraxos, pushing her rain-soggy hair out of her face, "You get to ask then!" She amends, "You and Jareth. I bet the two of you would be best at it?"
Ataraxos nods, and leads the group into the town.
By the time they enter the town proper, the rain has picked up, and is starting to come down in sheets. The sky is almost completely grey, now, and the rain makes a hissting, splattering sound as it strikes the thirsty ground.
Tomas throws the hood of his cloak up over his head and hunkers down. He looks for anything that might be a sign of an inn or such.
Mikal stands up in the saddle and looks around a bit soggily from her higher vantage point for anything that looks like an inn, or for sight of a person the group can waylay for information. She's unfortunately utterly unaware of how the rain plasters her clothing as well as her hair to her. She murmurs quietly under her breath, "Thank the stars it's warm rain."
Jareth is rather happy to have the rain after the burn and actually strips to the waist, sighing as the water washes over his reddened skin.
Norris had completely redressed when it seemed clear that the rain was getting worse, the cap that Mikal got him on, protecting his head from the rain.
In very short order, then, Jareth points out one largish building with several horses and llamas hitched out front. Someone -- a mortal -- is rushing to put blankets over the animals so they have some modicum of being dry. The town is not set up to handle rain constantly.
Jareth notices Mikal's rather... damp... state and then glances at first Tomas and NOrris to see if they noticed him not-quite-staring before dragging his eyes forward. He points out the building to the others, feeling some relief at the idea of getting into the dry, even if the rain has felt good on his scorched skin.
Tomas concentrates for a bit and then hands Mikal a cloak. "Something to keep the rain off you."
Norris did not notice, this time around. He's more concerned with the rain itself, and getting to shelter than how folks look in the rain.
Mikal blinks down at Tomas, holding the cloak, "Er... I'm already kind of wet?" She thinks a bit, then beams, "Oh! To share with Ir- er, Goat, yes!" She happily shakes the cloak out so it mostly covers the big fey-stag's back and rump, "Thank you, To-Badger!"
Tomas says, "Anytime Rabbit."
Mikal grins cheerfully at Tomas as she wrings the water out of her braid.
The interior of the building appears to be either a tavern or some other similar sort of local watering hole. There's a counter with a couple of wooden kegs and a number of clay bottles, and about half a dozen low tables with rough cushions or wooden planks around them for seating just an inch or two above 'sitting on the floor.' The room is cool and dark, with a wind breezing through it from the rain outside and making the oil-lamps flicker. THere are a lot of people there, apparently taking shelter from the rain; all are in the muslin and cotton robes and cloaks that appear to be common in this region, and all of them, it seems, are mortal.
Mikal leads the horses and stag around back, looking for a barn. Raphael snuffs wetly at the air, then pads heavily after her, dripping.
Norris nods at what Jareth points out, and trots his mount up to it first, swinging down from it and checking out the place. "Hey-o? Kin we join y's? Storm's mighty powerful!" he queries, trying to look friendly when he pokes his head inside.
Jareth lets the others take care of the mounts, since he knows next to nothing after how not to fall off. He walks into the main room and immediately feels like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. It's his type of place.
Tomas says, "ties his horse off, removes the tack and looks for a stable or something to shelter the animal."
There's a desultory chorus of acknwoeldgement and permission -- mostly 'Yeah, sures' and 'Go right aheads' -- but most people seem to be keeping to their own groups; they don', at least, seem to be thinking anything especial of the new arrivals.
Mikal leaves Tomas's cloak neatly spread over her saddle and Iron Antlers' back.
Norris seems relieved...they want shelter, but it's not a good diea to be seeking it in a palce your'e not wanted. He grabs the reins of his horse, and seeks out where the others went.
There are normally stables in this sort of establishment, and in this case there's an overhang in the back but it's not really sheltered; obviously Jericho doesn't get a lot of rainy days like this. But there is an awning that hangs over the several mounts that are back there.
Norris ties his horse up with others, sweeping some of the moisture from the horse's muzzle. "Yew be aright, ol dame." he assures his mount.
Mikal hms thoughtfully, looking around... then she cheerfully nudges the horses and llamas over little by little to make room for their mounts. She puts Iron Antlers on the end, patting his damp mane and saying, "Take care of the horses, all right?" She gathers her tack and goods, and makes sure everyone else has theirs, then leaves Tomas's cloak on the stag's back, since he's got the coldest and wettest spot. After that she makes sure all the animals have water and some oats, then heads indoors with the others.
Norris finally joins his friends, taking off his rainsoaked cap, and situates himself between himself and the others. Maybe they mean no harm, but he's found that his bulk tends to intimidate others even when he'd rather it not...certainly doesn't hurt to keep the other folk from thinking that he and his would be easy marks.
Tomas ties up the horse and does his best to dry it off. He covers the horse with his cloak and waters her. He then makes sure she gets some oats, and then looks to the other horses of the group, to make sure they are cared for. He softly says to Mikal that the cloak will disappear at Dawn, since it is only something he thought into existance.
Mikal nods to Tomas, "That's all right, Tomas -- it was still nice of you to think of it, and at Dawn hopefully it'll be dry anyway, you know?" Once inside she settles between her friends with some relief, enjoying the shared body warmth. While they may not need to eat or sleep, she does occasionally get too cold or hot still. She contentedly puts herself to work in drying and cleaning off her tack, to keep busy and active -- and a touch warmer thereby.
Carrying his weapon at trail and slinging the saddle over his shoulder, Tomas smiles back at Mikal and heads for the tavern. He may not have to eat or drink, but old habits die hard.
Despite Norris trying to be protective, Jareth has started wandering through the room, chatting with those that seem inclined to be chatted with.
Mikal also brings out her bow, frowning a bit worriedly at it. She's kept it well wrapped in oilskin, and her bowstrings are equally carefully tucked away... but rainy weather isn't good for it.
Mikal carefully checks and oils it, then tucks it neatly back into its wrappings.
Norris sits and studies the gathered folk a bit...and finally starts undoing the straps of his armored breastplate. And then his padded shirt, too, wringing the water out of it. He takes comfort in routine, much as Mikal does, checking over his leathers, maknig sure the treatment's holding, and the water didn't damage it. Putting out a vial of oil and touching up a few spots, but keeping his maul close by.
Tomas approaches the bartender and asks, "Got any sleeping rooms for the night?"
The bartender/hostelier looks bored but alert enough for his job. He looks up at Tomas with rheumy eyes as if considering the man for a few moments. "Ten coppers each," he says simply. "One night, breakfast, and water for washing in the morning."
Jareth doesn't quite hit a wall with his questions, but this is a pretty desultory lot; they don't seem terribly interested in much chit-chat, and their answers to his questions are simple, direct, to the point, and, while not blunt, certainly not amazingly forthcoming. He gets the impression that this is a town that is on hard times.
For her part, Mikal doesn't seem to be noticing anyone taking undue notice or giving too much attention to the newcomers, except for one person at the bar, a youngish man, who glances over curiously now and then. He doesn't appear to have the same attitude of the others, in fact he's not quite dressed the same: the colors are a little brighter, the footgear -- boots -- a little more worn and rugged for the road. Like everyone else he's drinking from a wooden cup.
Jareth wanders back to the table where his companions sit and murmurs, "This is a quiet lot."
Mikal waits until Jareth wanders by the group again to reach out and tug him over. She whispers very quietly to him, "Hey, the guy by the bar there? The young one with the brighter clothes? I think he's been watching us, Jarr!"
Tomas pulls out 40 coppers and slides it across the bar. "What have you got to eat now?"
Norris chuckles lightly. "Think ah been done washed enou fer a month." he says to no one in particular as he overhears what the hosterlier says.
Mikal grins at Norris as she unties her braid, shakes and wrings it out, then rebraids it, "Think we all have. Bet we won't smell like horse tomorrow!"
Jareth does his best to glance over casually at the young man at the bar and then back to his companions, "Feel like having a little extra company for dinner? He looks a bit lonely."
Mikal blinks at Jareth, her eyes widening, "C-c-co-company?!"
The hostelier looks at the coppers. "There are six of you," he says. "Goat stew in the pot now. Not a lot, don't get much call for eats around here. Five coppers for a bowl."
Mikal says, "Ummm..." she glances nervously over at the man, then back at Jareth, her voice very small, "If... if you think we sh-should?"
Norris looks at Mikal in her wet hair, smiling. Not really prurient: after seeing females in translucent clothing, seeing Mikal with her clothes stiched to her skin with moisture doesn't really seem to register. Or maybe it's because it's Mikal.
Jareth slides an arm carefully around Mikal's shoulders to give her a friendly half-hug. "You can hide behind me, Rabbit." He grins and meanders over to the bar, turning around to lean back against it with his elbows on the surface and smiling at the not-quite-fitting-in young man, "Evening."
The young man brightens a little. "'Evening. Or day. What brings you 'round these parts?"
Tomas passes 26 more copper pieces across the bar, gathers his bowl of goat stew, and heads for the room.
Mikal looks after Jareth as he leaves with a rueful expression... then she rolls her eyes and glances at Norris, whispering, "He's not big enough to hide behind if the man's going to be joining us!"
Jareth grins, "Itchy feet, mostly. We were noticing you're alone and I can't stand to see people looking lonely, so I thought we'd invite you over for a little bit of a jaw."
Norris looks at his friend. "Why hide?" he queries curously, gently, of Mikal.
Mikal shifts to kneel on the bench so she can easily reach Norris's ear to whisper to him, "B-because he's been watching us! Do you think he might be one of Mordred's spies?!"
The room upstairs is actually a single room, with about a dozen cots or low platforms covered with a straw pallet for sleeping on. It's a hostel, indeed.
The man chuckles a little. "I'd like to, sure. Thanks. Lead the way."
Jareth grins and nods, bringing the young man over and introducing his friends by their animal nicknames. He makes sure he sits so that Mikal can be between himself and Norris and does his level best not to slide an arm around her.
Norris looks sidelong at the man. "Mebbe he is. But you aint been hidin since we'd got in. Doan yew think iffn' y' dissapear now, he's gonna notice ennyway? Isn't it better t' be out front, where y' can watch him right back?" He doesn't really understand Mikal's shyness...sure, perhaps he doesn't engage in conversation, but he doesn't feel the need to absent himself.
Mikal gives Norris a slightly confused look, but before she can answer she notices Jareth coming over with the young man. Her eyes are wide by the time they arrive, and when introduced she gives the barest of nods as she leans away, not quite sliding out of sight.
The young man introduces himself as Belisarius, an itinerant out from Athens out near Mount Olympus. "I'm traveling this way mostly to see what there is to see," he says. "All sorts of legends and such about Mount Zion, to say nothing of the city of Babylon." HE grins and offers the back of his hand for Raphael to sniff; the raptor-wolf sniffs at it, then licks his hand, which makes Belisarius grin wider and ruffle Raph's mane. "You know I don't think I've seen many mortals looking other than... well, human, if you know what I mean. Have you all been travelling together long?"
Mikal's eyes get even wider at Raphael's reaction to the young man, and she whispers mentally, [Wow, you don't do that very often! What's he smell like, Raph?] She nods silently at the question, still half-tucked behind her friends and peering out as cautiously as the rabbit she's named for.
Jareth chuckles, "Seems like forever. Time is a little sketchy around here, I've noticed."
Once he gets to the room, he claims 6 sleeping places together away from the entrance. He then removes his armor and makes sure it is dried and cleaned. He then takes care of his glaive. Once everything is cleaned and oiled, he finishes his stew and goes back down to the common room.
Norris's brow knits...he tries not to look ruffled, but the mention of 'Babylon' only makes his head ache, at another familiar name that he can't image why he knows. "Been t'gether a whiles, yep. Ahm, uh...Bear. Yeah. Annat's Cat." He indicates Jareth.
Raphael tels Mikal know that he smells, oddly, like other canines, like he's familiar with them and knows how to work with them.
Belisarius nods, a touch soberly. "Oh, yeah. Sometimes the days just fly, sometimes it seems like forever from one Dawn to the next, sometimes it's like you're a bit out of sycnh, you know?"
Norris watches Raph seem to accept the young man. "An yew met Wolf."
Mikal blinks startledly at Raphael, then looks around bemusedly, [Then where are his dogs, though? I didn't see any out at the shelter, and there aren't a heap of them by the fire either. Did you smell them on the way in or something?]
Norris nods a little at the man's commentary, trying not to scowl. The man has an educated way of talking, and yet he still understands perfectly. It's jarring.
Belisarius chuckles, "Yes, I have. What is he, if I can ask? He's a bit different from the dogs I remember. Usually they don't have teeth that can chomp off a head."
Mikal's head comes around abruptly as Raphael snorts, and at the same time she says indignantly, "He's not a dog! He's my half-brother, and a raptor-wolf!"
Jareth tries not to let his lips into too much of an affectionate grin at Mikal's quick defense of her half-brother, "I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I feel like the days aren't even in the right order."
Seeing the others sitting with a stranger, Tomas pays 6 coppers for another bowl of stew and sits with his back to the wall, where he can keep an eye on the others.
Mikal blinks in shock as she realizes her outburst. She gives a small, startled squeak, turning bright red -- then hastily slides completely behind Norris.
Belisarius holds up his hands quickly. "Whoa, whoa! No offense intended! I mean, he's a lot different from a dog clearly, since he's mortal. I just didn't recognize his, uh, shape."
He seems genuinely concerned about having offended Mikal, and seems to be having no malice or duplicity in his heart.
Norris ahems as he ends up shielding Mikal again. "Th' outspoken one is Rabbit." Outspoken? What th' hell? Now ahm doin it.
From behind Norris trails a tiny, "...sorry!"
Jareth can't help the affectionate grin that time and reaches over to pat whatever bit of Mikal he can pat without seeming inappropriate.
Norris leans in a little. "An how kin yew tell 'at?" he has to ask. This is the first person besides Amaros that has even mentioned it.
Mikal is still bright red where she hides behind Norris, as she gives Jareth a sheepishly grateful glance.
Belisarius laughs. "It's fine, uh, Rabbit, please, don't worry. Come on out, I promise I won't bite." HE looks to Norris. "Tell what. sorry?"
Norris ahems. "Well, now...we's allus known R-...Wolf is special. Rabbit says so. Now yew's saying same, after havin jus' met us. Gotta wonder what yew know th' average folk don't."
Mikal waits until the others have talked for a bit before she cautiously leans out past Norris -- just enough so one eye can be seen.
Belisarius says, "Oh, well. People can tell he's mortal, like all of us. And I'm sure they've heard stories of mortals appearing as other than human. I just haven't seen one in such a form, that's all."
Norris uhuhs. "Ah see." So maybe it isn't odd. He'd just never paid attention to it before. "An whut else yew heered lately? Seems yew got good ears." he continues, trying to be friendly. Maybe this man is a spy. But...if he asks the questions, maybe he can keep the interest off him and his pack.
Raphael gives a pause, and lets Mikal know that he isn't sure where Belisarius's dogs are. The canine smell on him is somewhat old, however.
Mikal whispers to Norris, "Ask him where his dogs are, too!"
Norris blinks, looking slightly back at Mikal. "uh...Rabbit wants t' know where your dogs is?" he adds, confused, but dutiful.
Belisarius shrugs a bit. "Not much. I'm a bit new in this area. But seems everyone's heard of Mordred and the shit he's stirring up. Uh... pardon my language. First I heard of him was out in Vinton, about a week's travel deosil of Yggdrasil, and that's clear on the other side of Mount Olympus." At the question he grins. "Well," he says a bit sadly, "I worked with dogs... a long, long time ago, and most recently I tended a kennel for a while in Alexandria. That was about a week ago. Well, then I decided to wander around again -- 'itchy feet' as Cat put it. And here I am.
Mikal peeks cautiously around Norris again, feeling sorry for the man, "You lost your pack? I'm so sorry."
Norris kneads at his hands, idly cracking his knuckles. This is, so far, the most knowledgeable mortal they'd found. Most of the folk that knew this much about things around have been non-humans. Belisarius definitely stands out. "Sound like yew been around this strange place a long while. How far yer itchy feet take you, eh?"
Belisarius considers, then smiles wanly. "That's probably the best way to put it. Admittedly, I wasn't raising any dog so strong and rough-and-tumble as Raphael here," he ruffles the raptor-wolf's mane again as he says it. "But samoyeds and akitas are big enough in their own right. Oh... sorry, I know he's your half-brother, it's just old habits are hard to break."
He grins to Norris, "Oh, long enough. Almost too long, but I guess there's always something new, eh? Well... it's been a very long time since I came out from the Mirror and the elves. I think the first direction I headed in was Mount Meru, and just went deosil from there, going towards the Mirror or away as the whim took me."
Belisarius appears to have short brown hair and dark eyes, as well as pale olive skin.
Norris huhs! Nodding as if he understood at least part of what was said. "Elves, eh. Where ah heered they's layin seige to, now. Don't like em, mebbe? Hopin t' join up wi' the army?" he queried casually. The asking questions seems to come easier to him now, paricularly since Jareth seemed to dissapear between one moment and the next, and Tomas is up in his room....and Mikal...well, is Mikal.
EDIT: change to 'Tomas is elsewhere'.
Belisarius shakes his head. "No, fighting's not for me. I'm curious abot Mordred, but if finding out more about him means joining his army, I'll pass." He glances around, and drops his voice. "Might not want to talk too much about it, though. Couple of his recruiters are in Jericho. Don't want to get too much of the wrong attention, you know?"
Mikal has been slowly emerging from behind Norris. At that comment, though, she blinks startledly and ducks back out of sight, much like a turtle vanishing into her shell.
Belisarius sees Mikal duck back again, and he smiles. "It's all right, Rabbit. They're not press gangs, and for now it seems MOrdred wants willing mortals to be officers. He's not so desperate as to press-gang mortals into the ranks."
Norris spreads his hands. "We's just wantin t' keep to ourselves, goin from one place t' another. But we heered things too, and wanna know the lay of the land. An yer a friendly face, so..." he gestures as if to say 'voila'. Okay, this' creepy. Now ahm thinkin stuff that aint even proper words. Voila.
Mikal peeks cautiously out from behind Norris, whispering, "How do you know who they are -- th-the recruiters, I m-mean? A-and, um... why does he want m-mortal officers?"
Norris looks around at the quiet folk huddled in the inn. "He find many officers innis place?" he queries, trying to sound skeptical. After being in Alexandria and Thebes and the Winter Palace...this place seems to be more like Stanton, if anything.
"Mortals are special, Rabbit, you've gotta have noticed that by now. And with the right training, there's a lot more they can do. Train them as army officers... there's not many armies of non-mortals that can stand up to them." He looks to Norris, shrugging. "I don't know. I don't ask, seems like it'd be healthier for me, you know?"
Mikal looks suddenly very curious, "L-like what, p-p-please?"
Norris aw shucks. "Donno nothin bout special. Iffn y' say so." he replies, modest.
Belisarius purses his lips. "Well... okay," he says after a while. "Say you have an army, right? Bakeneko, satyrs, kobolds, whomever and whatever you want to fill the ranks. If you pick just any aethyrs to be their officers - say, promoting from within the ranks -- you could probably get a competent army together and they'd be good enough for your typical territorial and succession disputes. But putting a mortal at the helm of that army means that, in some ways, the Dreamtime is going to do what that mortal wants it to do... within a certain extent, I mean, he can't part the mountains like some kind of reverse-Moses. But the terrain can be made a little more favorable, the weather a bit more to the mortal general's liking, fewer accidents and broken weapons, that sort of thing. And when you make all your captains mortals, too, it just adds up.
"Like I said, it takes a lot of training. But... Mordred's got a lot of mortals under his command, and there's nothing quite like learning by doing. Given enough time his mortals might start to figure out what they need to do to be really good at what they can do."
Mikal's eyes widen a bit as she thinks about that, where she's peeking cautiously over Norris's shoulder. She's silent, considering... then she says softly but firmly, "Well... I guess we know now what we need to be really, really good at if we want to be able to stay safe here, yes?" She frowns, thinking a bit more, then glances at Belisarius, "Um, s-so... d-d-do you know how to -- how t-to do any of that t-t-training?"
Belisarius says, "Beautiful, you don't need to be an officer or an army general to be safe here. I've gotten along this far without being press-ganged or recruited or given a general's baton or anything like that. I don't fight, period. ALl right, I fight to protect myself, but I don't fight in armies. If I can make it this long without doing that, anyone can.
"As for that military training... I don't know, no. In fact I don't think even Mordred knows. I think most of the mortals he has are just trying to learn as they go along."
Norris blinks at this explanation...training, he understands. But from what Belisarius is saying, it seems like with even a mortal being present, that the world itself is more likely to shape itself to please the mortal. To fit to his desires. Suddenly, the brigand becoming more calm simply because he wished it...that's making a lot more sense.
Norris's lips purse. That said...suddenly an army of mortals under Mordred's command makes him more worried that before.
Mikal doesn't immediately register what Belisarius calls her -- and then she simply looks a bit bemused. She glances behind herself, making sure he wasn't actually talking to someone else... hm, apparently not. Weird. She looks back at the man and nods absently. In some ways she's relieved: there's no special magic only Mordred has -- in another way she's worried: how's she going to learn how to do this? Finally she murmurs, "So, umm... so, if that's so, w-why don't people make the w-w-weather nice everywhere?"
Norris looks around at the others in the inn. "Ah spose fella like Mordred doan have t' offer much t' folk like these." he suggests, not quite a question, but still addressed to Belisarius.
Mikal whispers, "Is he m-mortal? M-m-mordred, I m-mean?"
Belisarius lifts his shoulders. "Well, mostly because mortals rarely can agree on what 'nice' is!" he says with a grin. "At least, enough of them. This, though..." He nods outside, where the storm is finally abating a bit. "This has something to do with Mount Zion. Some of the biggest of the old gods were storm gods, and I guess this close to their old homes, the weather still kind of reflects that." He looks to Norris, then glances around, and murmurs, "That's one way of putting it, yeah. Lot of people look for meaning, for something to do that's worthwhile. Mordred offers responsibility, authority, wages, meaning.... Wether that's the meaning you're looking for is up to you. Plus, from what I understand, he's really well travelled. Been everywhere in the Dreamtime, to hear some people say -- even out into the Deep Wyld. He's a mortal, Lovely, yes. But he's been around for a while, too, and I think he picked up a few more tricks than I have, if I were to compare myself with him."
Mikal's eyes widen again, and she wishes a bit wistfully Mordred weren't insane. He sounds like someone she'd love to listen to... especially if he were talking with someone from her pack, like Jareth!
Norris grunts. "Long as he hisself aint commin here, ah's be happy as a clam." He pauses. "Whut th' fuck is a clam." he mumbles to himself. And then he suddenly looks embarassed. He's never sworn in his life! "Uh. Yeah. Yew gon' be on yer way when the bad weather's over, then?" he queries, trying to cover his confusion.
Belisarius shrugs a little. "Probably. But i might stay on a Dawn or two more. Jericho is old, older than anything I've ever seen. There's a history here, it just needs to be... coaxed."
Norris uhs? "coaxed? In't doin whut?"
Belisarius grins, "Looked for. Sought after. Teased. Persuaded. Jericho's been around since before the Godswar, man. THere's history here, buried beneath these stones, that we can only guess at and which most folks have completely forgotten about."
Mikal looks perplexed, "How can you coax it if there's no one to tell it still alive? And isn't everywhere here in existence since before the Godswar?"
Norris juts his chin at Belisarius. "That yer thing, then? Yew's a scholar too? R' just real curious?" he has to wonder.
Belisarius laughs softly, "I guess I took the metaphor too far! Okay, let me speak plainly. Whatever remains from before the Godswar is buried under the town. Or it's buried in the walls, or hidden away in cracks and crevices. I know that there have been countless archaeologists here already, but you never know when you might stumble upon something."
Mikal nods slowly, slightly surprised that she understands the alien word. Archaeologist... she rolls it around in her head, then decides it must be associated with the runes she could read too.
Norris shrugs a little. "Wal...yew's a mortal, hey? An if the world rearranges itself t' suit you too...then who knows whut yew turn up, yeah?" he suggests helpfully.
Belisarius beams. "Exactly! One can only hope!"
Mikal murmurs perplexedly, "But... how do you know you haven't just invented it? How do you know it's really from before the Godswar?"
Mikal has slowly slid out from behind Norris, and now she's seated next to him again, although she's still leaning against him for comfort and support.
Norris likes this. Warm Mikal. It's never a bad thing. "Yuh lookin fer sommat specific?" he queries, putting an arm around her.
Mikal leans her head against Norris, relaxing a bit. She's quite sure no one could possibly harm her while she's here with her pack brothers.
Belisarius considers that for a moment. "Well... unless something is 'fixed' with awen, it'll disappear at the next Dawn. if whatever you've found doesn't disappear, and you know you didn't fix it... it's legitimate. I suppose someone touched in the head might fix something with awen then believe that they didn't, but I'm rpetty sure I'm not that way!"
Mikal nods in relief, murmuring quietly, "That makes sense."
Norris is having a hard time following that, but doesn't draw attention to it.
Norris head tilts. "An whut yew gonna do when yew find it? Sell it?"
Belisarius grins to Norris. "I have no idea! Depends on what I find, of course."
Norris smiles in response. This fellow is interesting enough, and seems harmless. He's certainly given fascinating information. He hopes he hasn't given anything damaging away himself... Jareth is cleverer than he. At the very least, they have a place to start. And maybe, just maybe, the world is helping them out already. Maybe because they hoped to find out infomation, first and foremost, how to beat the spider-wasps, that the secret of Jericho might be a step in that direction. Wouldn't *that* be interesting....
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