| Logs |
2009 October 11
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Fifth Movement, Sixth Verse
There angels have withdrawn for the time being. It may be a long pause in the nigh-endless fighting, or it may be only a brief reprieve. However, Uriel has withdrawn from the battlefield, screened by a murder of his six-winged crows. Either way, Ravana dispatches scouts to monitor the angels' route, to see if they are bivouacking somewhere near or are withdrawing to a more permanent bastion. He keeps most of his warriors on the lines, manning the defenses, while some he has policing the battlefield.
And some he has keeping watch over the Mazikim.
For the mortals, however, there is much -- pardon the pun -- lionizing. Mikal's shots were well-regarded by the raksasha, and there is much cheering and voices raised in growly huzzahs. It certainly helped to see one of the leaders of their foes to be so soundly routed, and there is no shortage of the thronging raksasha who want to get lend their voices to the cheering.
Mikal is quietly pleased poor Jareth has had a moment to withdraw and heal emotionally. She grins and waves to the rakshasa, quite willing to let them express their relief at their not just holding, but winning the battlefield despite treachery and backstabbing. She waits until the small crowd (which looks large to her, given her size) has worked off their initial exuberance -- then she cheerfully calls out, "We won this one despite their sneak attack and their treachery! Now, let's see to our wounded, and make sure the angels can't harm us again!" Unless they let her down, she simply starts ordering rakshasa to various jobs she can see that need doing. She figures if she does that enough, they'll clear out fairly quick -- and then she can find Ravana and Vibhashana.
Norris does not quite bleed from this horrific assault, and the enthusiasm of the rakshasa at winning the battle. For one, he did not actually attack or wound any angels, unlike Jareth. And he is of two minds about the whole thing...horrified by the relentless onslaught that resuled in so many angel deaths, goaded by their leader. And yet, taking satisfaction at their turning of the tide. "You did well, Rabbit." he rumbles, pausing in his spoken desire to go work in the medic's tent.
The raksasha are a warrior people, and while thoroughly enjoying feting their heroes, they understand that a battle does not really end when the last shot is fire or the last sword-swing is made. They disperse to the assigned task quickly, and Mikal's initial assigning helps the captains and sergeants to get their troops started.
Mikal pauses and smiles up at Norris, "Thank you, Bear." She studies him quietly for a moment, then adds, "Are you willing to bodyguard me for a bit, dear, or would you rather head immediately for the medic's tent?"
Norris doesn't need to even think about that. "I'll stand with you." he assures, unsure that the Goddess of War needs any help being protected...but he always takes satisfaction in guarding his friends.
Norris wonders, absently, if Janiel is among the dead. Remembering that jareth worried so about the young sceptre.
Mikal smiles again, giving Norris a quick hug, "Thanks, Bear." Her smile is cheerful, but it doesn't really reach her eyes as she adds, "Now the hard part. Believe me, I will greatly appreciate the support of you and Wolf by the dawn." She takes a deep breath, then straightens, "First, Ravana and his brother, to find out how the supporting troops around the dome mechanism were called off -- I pray it was not due to more treachery. Next to find out what is to be done to the Mazikim... and next to search the dead for the still living wounded."
Norris makes a happy grunt at hugs. Clearly, the wound that occurred between them is starting to heal. "Do you think we should butt in on the matter of the Mazikim? We are only the ones that stopped the rogue...he did not betray us, precisely." he queries as he walks with her.
Mikal murmurs calmly, "It is a courtesy to ask. It means if we can be of assistance to the rakshasa, they can now call upon us without losing face."
Norris nods agreeably. "And I suppose it is our business, considering we could have been hurt fixing the problem. We simply need not put it that....bluntly." He glances at his companion from time to time, amazed at how she holds the spirit of Inanna so well, now.
Mikal nods in silent agreement with Norris as she pads along next to him, one hand resting on Raphael's ruff and looking around for the leader of the rakshasa.
Finding Ravana is not hard; he is not making himself hard to find, though he does look worn when they find him. He is quite busy organizing the after-battle work, consulting with the captains and generals as messenger runners stream into and out of the central tent. But much of the organizing seems to have been completed, and by the time the mortals reach him, he has just dispatched the last messenger. With a grateful sigh, he stands, doffing his armored robe to help with rebuilding and moving damaged defenses -- as the largest and strongest of the raksasha, it only makes sense that he help with the manual labors when he can -- and he espies the mortals as he does so. He beams, though it is a slightly tired look. "Ah, our avenging heroes of the battle! Thank you. Thank you for sending Uriel running. And for securing the shield, as well. To say I am unhappy with our Mazikim guests at the moment is an understatement. What may I do for you?"
Mikal says politely, "We came to ask how things were, and where we might be of assistance, honored rakshasa lord. I told the Mazikim they were to keep the betrayer alive as he rightfully belonged to you and your people -- did they do so? Also, do you need someone to go outside the dome to search the dead for any living wounded?"
Ravana sighs and nods. "Thank you for doing that," he says. "For having Asmodeus leave Marcharios alive. I'm certain Andramalech would have torn him asunder. But we are keeping watch on both of them, Marcharios separate from the others. I am not confining the Mazikim -- except for Marcharios, of course -- but I am not giving them free run of the enclave for the time being.
"Things are well, thanks you you all. That battle could have gone much worse. As it is, while the loss of the shield hurt us -- we lost many when it went down -- you did bring it back up before there was any major damage done. Moreover, you chased off Uriel! I can't begin to tell you how much that improved our morale.
"As for going outside the dome, that won't be necessary. I have a few teams policing the area , but for the most part there are not going to be raksasha wounded outside the dome. There may be angelic wounded, and I have left instructions for them to secure any prisoners." He looks thoughtful. "Actually... that may be something you would be profoundly suitable for. To go outside the perimeter and see if you can secure any wounded angels -- I daresay they will be more willing to surrender to you after what you did to Uriel, than to any raksasha. And you are simply more capable than any of my warriors besides."
Norris's brow knits in thought. "Forgive me, Lord, but I'm not sure I understand that logic, in regards to them surrendering to us?" He looks at Mikal, to see if she understands. Yes, she did not give the order to assault Mikal and Jareth's ranged weapon enclave. But she did encourage Uriel to give that order. He wonders, then, if Janiel gave them an insight into angel's motivations that he was not told.
Mikal smiles quietly and humorlessly as Ravana too sees what she'd been aiming for: having the mortals go fetch the wounded angels, so there's less unnecessary bloodshed.
Mikal says, "Bear, the angels are more likely to try fighting again with the rakshasa than with us." She nods to Ravana, adding, "We'd be happy to do so, Ravana Lord, although I will ask that we have a troop of your folk dispatched with us, please -- both for more protection and to transport the angels." She thinks a moment, then nods to Norris's reply. Curiously she glances at Ravana, then, adding, "Why do you say we are more capable than your warriors, though? I find that... hard to believe, considering their age and experience?"
Norris ohs, as Mikal gently explains. "Okay, that makes sense."
Ravana nods, "Thank you. I will have a company of warriors accompany you." At her question he smiles quietly. "Rabbit, mortals have always simply been, in general, better than aethyrs at many things. Stronger, faster, tougher, more capable. There are exceptions, and sceptres are generally a notch stronger than other aethyrs, but... for the vast majority of aethyrs you will meet, they will not be able to match you. Now, there will be many sceptres and powerful aethyrs who will be the exception, but they are few and far between." He frowns a little. "Surely you have noticed this in your travels?"
Norris clears his throat. "Not really? I mean, we haven't gotten in many fights. This is our first experience with dedicated aether soldiers, as opposed to just simple emissaries. Closest we came to professionals were some assassins that folded at any real resistance."
Mikal nods in agreement at Norris's words, watching Ravana in silent curiosity. She's quite aware of how dramatically he out-matched her just in play -- and the angels she's met, as well, have been an order of magnitude faster and more powerful than she.
Ravana makes a quiet sound. "Well, I can tell you that for any warrior among the raksasha, you would have a better than even chance of coming out atop them. Some of the more grizzled sergeants and talented captains might give you a turn, if for no other reason than their experience and cunning. But were I a gambler I would almost certainly always put money on you.
"And yes, that was my reasoning as well, Rabbit. That any wounded angels, after seeing what you did to Uriel, would be more willing to surrender to you than to attempt to fight their way from capture by raksasha..
Mikal nods slowly. She's somewhat unconvinced regarding angels -- or any 'regular' sceptre, for that matter -- being that less capable than she or her pack members, especially after her experiences with them, but she's not going to bring that up just now. Better to discuss this later, over a nice cool drink in the shade, after all the wounded have been tended to.
Norris glances at Mikal. "Let us do it, then. Folk might be dying while we discuss it."
Mikal nods to Norris, "Aye." She looks to Ravana, her slight bemusement clearing away as she adds in the crisp tones of someone organizing things in their head even as they speak, "Whomever you assign to us knows to listen to what we say, yes? No angry generals this time? -and we can meet them at the gate, yes? -and we'll get out of your hair now. Thank you for your time, Ravana Lord."
She is soon thereafter slowly working through the throngs of injured and fallen angels. She makes sure no one is alone, splitting the rakshasa troop into a group to assist the mortals, a group to transport any discovered alive into the dome, and another group (the largest) simply to guard them all from potential sneak attack. She also makes sure everyone's salt allotments have been topped off again.
Norris watches Mikal hand out salt. "Is that wise, Rabbit? I'm not saying that the rakshasa should shoot themselves in the foot in regards to taking prisoners. I'm just worried about using a poison to pacify any that want to keep fighting."
Mikal gives Norris an amused glance, "Salt is a weapon, Bear, just like that mace you're holding. We're going to go try to help the angels, yes -- but forgetting these are angels who expect to be attacked because we are the enemy would be simply foolish of us. It is our job to get ourselves back inside the dome in one piece, and if we can, to bring angels with us. What would you do, say, if one of the wounded were able to call in another teleporting platoon of angry angels?" She grins a bit teasingly, "Use harsh language?"
Norris smiles dryly. "Hardly, Rabbit. No, my bigger concern is that it might undermine our efforts to end this peacably. Salt is not just another weapon. My mace is very clearly a dealer of death, and nothing else. Salt is far more painful and tortuous. I am not saying you are not right: I am merely speaking up about my concern."
Mikal nods peaceably, "That's fine. I certainly won't require you to carry salt if you do not wish to."
Norris says, "As you say, rabbit."
The group does find a number of injured angels. Based on the sheer numbers, many are reached only just as or just after they expire from their wounds -- there is no helping that. Most are also in no condition to put up any sort of fight; even the lowest fall can cause grave damage to their multiplle, beautiful wings, though their bones are not hollow like a bird's. Only a few angels appear capable of mobility. And of them...
In their policing, it is Norris who comes upon the angel who is trying, desperately, to crawl out of a ditch they had fallen into. Their lance broken, they have used parts of it to form an ersatz splint for one of their larger wings. They do not immediately spot Norris.
Norris does not bother to draw his weapon. He feels convinced under the circumstances that the angel poses no real threat...and if it tries, he can easily immobilize it. "I offer you parley and tending of your wounds, sceptre, if you will yield the field." he calls out gently to the aggreviously wounded angel.
The angel looks startled, turning and falling back against the stone, blinking startledly at Norris. It's Janiel, and he recognizes Norris almost immediately. "You're... you're Cat's friend, aren't you?" he askes, breathlessly.
Norris's breath is caught in his throat. He couldn't have hoped...my goodness, Jareth will be so glad. And so pained. "I am Bear, yes. I am glad to see you yet live, given the circumstances." He looks hopefully at the sceptre. "Surrender? Please? You look like you must be in much pain."
Janiel looks about ready to collapse. "I... I wanted to hide, but I was caught up in the first wave. But a raksasha's vajra caught me. I fell...." He winces. "Hurts." It's clear he's running on adrenaline and endorphins. Or whatever passes for that in sceptres.
Norris lets out a pre-arranged whistle to get Mikal's attention: even if she doesn't hear it, it's likely Raph will. "Seat yourself, sceptre. I will tend you." he assures, getting out his medical bag and easing the angel into as comfortable a position as he can manage, while seeing what is broken besides the wing. Sadly, he knows nothing about the anatomy of birds, but maybe Mikal can assist...
It is, at the very least, an educational experience. The angel's anatomy appear mostly human, with some apparently completely superfluous bone structures that does nothing but support the base of the wings. There appears to be the bare minimum of dense, compact musculature in order to move the wings, but hardly enough to actually make the angel fly with the wings, it seems. Still, when broken, the wings apparently hurt badly. Now that the tension is over, and Janiel is amongst people who are not going to kill him immediately, he slips into unconsciousness; fortunately, there was no sign of internal bleeding or shock, or a concussion, that Norris could see.
Mikal comes trotting over a moment later with some rakshasa, Raphael at her side and glancing aruond warily. The big raptor wolf searches the area around the ditch while Mikal waves the rakshasa to a stop, continuing forward to Norris's side. She beams at the angel, "Janiel! I'm so pleased to see you!"
Norris smiles grimly at Mikal. "He passed out while I was treating him....he's not as bad as he seems. Apaprently damaging an angel's wings is excruciatingly painful, enough to it's hard to walk or even think. But I've done the best I can for now."
Mikal blinks as the angel slumps into unconsciousness, and her demeanor changes abruptly -- she waves over the rakshasa with a litter, her voice quick and sure, "Handle this one gently, please? Give me a hand while I try splinting that broken wing."
Norris looks relieved, and moves aside for the wing expert.
Mikal has a rakshasa pull the wing straight while the poor angel is out, and hastily splints the bone ends back where they belong. She has the wing folded as much as they can, so it can be bound into place, then sends Janiel off with the rakshasa.
Mikal smiles at Norris, "Good eye, Bear, finding Janiel! Cat will be so pleased he's still alive." She gives the big young man a quick hug, then turns and glances around briskly, "All right, let's keep going. The less time we're out here, the better, after all -- we've not covered the entire area yet!"
The remainder of the operation goes fairly quickly. The angel's wing is actually remarkably like that of a bird-of-prey, and Mikal has splint more than a few in her time. The broken lance used as a splint that Janiel made is functional, but not terribly suitable, nor ideal.
Things are wrapped up fairly quickly after that, and Janiel is brought back to the encampment. The captain, however -- Devasura -- looks a little surprised at Mikal's request, however. "We were told-- I mean, I had thought we would be taking all angels into internment, Lady?" she asks curiously. "Cared for and healed, yes, but under guard..."
Norris does not answer, but looks at Mikal inquiringly. He's not sure they want to explain why they're not worried., given that the Mazikin are still present.
Mikal smiles quietly, "If any angels ask about this one, tell them it has been detained for further questioning and it will be returned to them later. Alert Ravana Lord and Cat also, please, that this angel was found -- if Cat has returned yet."
Mikal adds quietly to Norris, "We can have a few angels pulled aside for questioning later, and pull Janiel also at some point, so Cat can see he's fine."
Norris nods agreeably! "That would be best. Also don't want other angels looking askance at him."
Mikal nods firmly, "Exactly." With that, she goes back to carefully searching the battlefield with the others, even checking with Raphael to scent around the edges to track any angels that might have pulled themselves away into the underbrush. She doesn't want to leave anyone wounded to the mercies of any night hunting predators, after all. She also has the dead piled neatly together for disposal. She doesn't know if the rakshasa cremate, bury, or allow the scavengers to release the souls, so she doesn't give any orders in that respect, instead leaving it up to the rakshasa themselves to handle.
Devasura nods in compliance to Mikal's instructions, and by the time it is noon, the sky clear and blue, the encampment has gone from a mode of policing the battlefield to keeping a wary eye out for the next attack. Word from the scouts continues in, noting that the angelic army has not yet bivouacked and is continuing to withdraw; shortly Vhibishana's network of spies will have to take over the observation of the angelic flock from the scouts. So far, though, it doesn't look like the angels will be stopping until they reach Mount Zion.
Mikal is back in the dome, faintly surprised at how... effortless the clean-up was. She would have expected a lot more wounded and angry angels! As she listens to the reports from the spies, she's surprised once again: the angels are flying back to Mt. Zion?! In astonishment she says, "But... but that means it's only the archangels, or special messengers, who can teleport! -and that Uriel is so seriously harmed that he cannot teleport his flock with him -- that's wonderful news!" Her grin gets wicked as she adds, "A flock of wounded angels -- oh, that should draw angry enemies! I wonder how many more they'll lose on the way back?"
Mikal considers for a bit, then glances at Ravana and Vibhishana, "Is there anyone you can alert that's on their flight path that's allied with you and willing to harass them?"
Vhibishana, who is compiling the reports, nodes, chewing at his lip as he looks over the parchments. "Indeed. One of the scouting parties reports that a pride of griffins has begun stalking the outliers of the flock.
Mikal smiles quietly at that, then simply nods and dismisses that particular issue from mind, since she can't affect it any more. She glances at Ravana, "So, how are the rakshasa wounded? Will you be visiting with them? Would they appreciate our accompanying you, or would you rather do that alone?"
Mikal blinks at a sudden thought: she'd love a griffin for Jareth! Something fierce, swift, and dangerous, who's also dedicated to Jareth's safety. She grins -- what she really needs is for Jareth/Lilith to find the sacred Anzu bird.
Vhibishana frowns, looking at another parchment. "And... another party is saying that they have spotted kachinas stalking the flock as well. Interesting. They are remarkably far from Uluru. This could turn out very, very bad for Uriel's forces unless they can find a safe place to teleport soon."
Ravana is listening quietly. At Mikal's question, he perks little, then nods. "I was with them while you were away. I will be going again several times throughout the rest of the day, but it is... something I would prefer to do on my own for now. A handful may not survive the day, but most who have not yet perished will pull through. We lost many warriors, but we are still strong, and we fared much, much better than we might have."
Mikal is faintly surprised again, but too polite to say anything, when her offer to visit the wounded to raise their spirits is refused. She simply nods, running through her mental checklist, "All right. You were alerted of our discovery of the angel Janiel, yes? Also, what of the Mazikim?" She hms silently as a thought occurs to her: perhaps Ravana is simply being a prudent leader, and not letting his people fixate on outsider heroes that will be soon departed rather than on himself as leader.
Mikal says quietly to Vibhishana, "If they could not teleport from here, why would they be able to teleport any better from some other place? Hm... this also means they have no immediate means of contacting their home base too. Excellent."
Ravana notes Mikal's expression. "I said I needed to go there on my own, Rabbit, not that you could not go. I apologize for my woolgathering; the passing of a victorious battle is bittersweet for me. There is the glory, the enjoyment of fighting, the revel of battle. And then there is the casualty reports, the passing of old comrades, the dead and dying of not only your own but that of your misguided enemy. I do not mean to sound flippant, but El-Amon-Re's certainly leeched any and all joy out of fighting and trouncing his forces."
He waves a hand. "But I will not begin to reminisce on the glorious wars fought between god and raksasha now. Yes, I was told of Janiel's discovery. Vhibishana has taken pains to ensure that he is not treated any differently than the other angels who have been captured -- which is to say, he too is being cared for by the healers we can spare from tending our own people. That being said, I have been told that his wounds, while grievous, are not threatening to his life. He will survive.
"As for the Mazikim. I have delayed conferring with Asmodeus for the time being. I would like to consult with you, actually, as to the best way to approach him and his regarding Marchorius's betrayal, and what the disposition of that one should be. Other than recognizing them as erstwhile allies, the Mazikim are... a little alien to me still."
Mikal nods and replies immediately, "Wolf and I, and maybe Cat and Bear-" she pauses to glance inquiringly at Norris, "would like to visit the wounded with you then, please, Ravana Lord."
Mikal grimaces faintly at the commentary about the Mazikim, but replies politely, "Rakshasa Lord, we'll give what aid we can regarding the Mazikim, but for myself, at least... I know little of them." She thinks a moment, then adds thoughtfully, "Cat's Lilith might know more of them?"
Norris is clearly pondering the last comment of Ravana, in regards to the Mazikin. How can they be allies, if their motives are in doubt? He does not innately distrust them, as Mikal did, but he certainly seems ill at ease to turn his back on them, now. The next betrayal might be the capture or wounding of his family. He nods absently to Mikal's quiet query.
Vhibishana nods to Mikal. "There are limits to their ability to appear and reappear elsewhere, 'teleport' for wont of a better term. It cannot be done reliably en masse, not without a great deal of preparation and time, time which both griffins and kachinas would use to prey heartily and exact their own bloody vengeances upon their wounded. Uriel must know this -- he has surely spotted both parties that are stalking him, along with any others we may not have yet noticed -- and so his best chance is to bring his forces together to a place where he has allies or can be assured of being unmolested while bringing his forces back directly to Mount Zion. Otherwise he has a two-week flight ahead of him."
Ravana nods to Vhibishana, then nods and salutes gravely to Mikal. "You would be welcome, Rabbit, and all of you. I am sure our wounded would appreciate it."
Mikal nods thoughtfully to Ravana... then grins a bit mischievously, "Assuming, of course, he is still conscious."
Norris snorts. "I doubt he would let anyone have the pleasure of seeing him felled by a couple arrows. Arrogant bastard."
Mikal grins up at Norris, leaning against him a bit tiredly. "Yeah. Wonder if he'll think to wonder at all why I gave the name I did." She gives a small snort of laughter, "Probably not... more's the pity."
Norris does not draw attention to the fact that this is the first time he's ever cursed. "He believes himself untouchable, shielded by his God. Perhaps a defeat will put doubt in his heart...but I doubt it."
Mikal nods silently, her small face thoughtful.
Norris wraps a comforting arm around Mikal, as he makes note of something he should inquire with her about, later.
Mikal sighs quietly and leans her head against Norris too. It's been a very long, highly emotional, adrenaline-filled morning, and she's only now starting to let herself relax a little.
Norris mmmms. This is nice. A Mikal relaxing against him is very reassuring, and he's far more used to it, now, making an effort to be physical with her, reassuring of his love. "Ravana, before we go spread morale, might Rabbit and I have a moment alone?"
Mikal smiles a bit wearily up at Norris, "I'm fine with that, although I'd still like to find out what's up in regards to the Mazikim first, if you don't mind?"
Ravana smiles, and nods. "Please, feel free. As I said, I will be going there several times throughout the next day or so.”
Norris scratches his chin. "Yes, that would be wise..." He trails off, uncertain what to think. The practical thing would be to kill the traitorous Mazikin. The merciful thing to do would be to expel him, except he has far too much intelligence we do not want to get back to Uriel, and El-Amon.
When Mikal gives an askance look and nudges him, he shares his thoughts on the matter. "But that's only in regards to the traitor. I do not know what to do with Asmodeus and the others." She gives Norris a blank look, not being privy to his thoughts, "What would be wise?"
Norris explains. "The practical thing would be to kill the traitorous Mazikin. The merciful thing to do would be to expel him, except he has far too much intelligence we do not want to get back to Uriel, and El-Amon. But that's only in regards to the traitor. I do not know what to do with Asmodeus and the others. Perhaps Lilith can provide some insight, as you said."
Mikal says, "Ah." She looks inquiringly at Ravana, "I'm not sure what you'd like from us regarding the Mazikim, but if you're willing to wait a moment while Norris and I speak, we're happy to offer whatever aid we can?"
After bidding polite goodbyes to the two busy rakshasa, Norris, Wolf, and Mikal are eventually back at their tent. Mikal curls up tiredly against Wolf's sturdy bulk and sighs, "Underworld, what a day it's been! Are you both all right? Also, what did you want to speak of, Norr?"
Norris steeples his fingers as he sits. "We have returned with much intelligence, and we have driven back the angel assault...I was wondering if you'd given any thought as to what we do next. Because unless you think we should leave post haste, I would like to spend some further time here."
Mikal nods tiredly, yawning and stretching for a moment, then taking a moment to help Raphael out of his padded armor. "I think it's a good idea, Norris. We need to check on Janiel without arousing the suspicions of the angels against him, we need to see if we can locate any others of the angels whose True Names we know amongst the wounded, we need to practice summonings... hm, what else. I want to be sure Jareth is all right when he returns, and we should be what help we can here with the wounded and the Mazikim." She pats Raphael's side as the big raptor wolf sits and scratches briskly, then rises and shakes violently to fluff up his heavy fur again, once the armor is off. She giggles softly, then smiles at Norris, "Plus I'd like to know what happens to the angelic horde as well, through Vibhishana's spies. We can't find that out on our own, you know?"
Norris nodnodnods! "All excellent points." He gestures to the encampment. "For my own, this is probably one of the best smithies in the Dreamtime, aside from the Winter Castle. Ravana speaks highly of our prowess, but I would take advantages of our resources here to build you armor as good as Cat's own, along with upgrading mine. I've taken the opportunity to consult with the rakshasa here on wearing heavier armor, and while I can craft leather on the road, a metal breastplate must be done in a proper forge." He watches Raph in his leather barding, a smile threatening to escape his mouth.
Mikal smiles faintly, patting Norris's arm, "Dear one, I would love to wear any gift you might give me... but I must ask that it please not impede my agility whatsoever, all right?" She adds thoughtfully, "I am wondering too if Jareth might wish to learn a bit more about healing here. Their chirugeons are exceedingly skilled, after all. Further, I very much wish to learn more about summoning."
Norris considers. "If I trained you properly on how to wear it, it would only impede some of your skills, certainly none that would affect your combat. It would, unfortunately, make you less stealthy. Even leather armor makes noises when you move." He gets a pained look. "You understand, Rabbit, I would never leave your side, and would take any blow meant for you. But crafting is what I do, and I worry. Even though you are amazing on the field."
Mikal smiles quietly at that, giving Norris a hug, "You're sweet, dear one. Tell you what -- we can work on it together and see what we can make of it, so I'm as unimpeded as possible, all right?"
Norris returns the embrace, making a sound like...well, a bear. "Of course, my friend." he rumbles, kissing her forehead.
Mikal smiles, leaning her head against Norris for a moment... then she sighs and sits back, "Well. Let's clean the dirt and blood off ourselves, then go see what Ravana wishes, all right?"
Norris nods agreeably. he feels tacky.
Mikal has fresh clothing, scented oils, towels, and cool drinks brought for them before she heads down to the little streamlet with Raphael to clean up. She wants to scrub the raptor wolf down thoroughly, and herself as well.
Raphael thoroughly enjoys the scrubdown, as most any canine would, even one with such a huge jaw.
Mikal laughs and cheerfully splashes him once she's done. She's slowly relaxing herself as well, with the calming pleasure of cool water flowing over them both. She takes her time, washing her hair as well and dunking herself under the water several times to make sure she's rinsed off all the muck and tiredness of a battlefield.
The bathing takes a comfortably languid time, and after a time, Ravana approaches the streamlet. She can tell it's Ravana because he is making almost enough noise to rouse an army; clearly he is trying not to startle her (who else would he be wishing to telegraph his presence to, knowing that they're possibly nude?)
Mikal chuckles quietly, pushing back her heavy, wet hair from her face as she turns to face Ravana. She's still very much manifesting Inana, and so her voice is gently teasing as she looks up at the rakshasa lord and comments amusedly, "You interrupt a Lady in her bathing, Ravana Lord?"
Ravana's voice chuckles from the trees. "I'd not dream of interrupting your bathing, Lady, which is why I waited before coming to you. However, if I have grievously interrupted, then I most assuredly cry your pardon. Though I do ask if we may speak facing each other. Your voice is indeed lovely, but lovelier still would be to look upon you whilst hearing that voice.
Mikal laughs softly again, climbing out of the little stream and picking up a towel. As she relaxedly dries herself she smiles, "You are welcome, rakshasa lord; come forth if you will."
Ravana comes forth from the forest, gingerly pushing a branch out of the way. He has recently bathed and freshened himself, and looks somewhat reinvigorated, though underneath the thick veneer of teasing flirtatiousness there is still some mote of the battle's exhaustion. Still, he does not let it show much. He wears a comfortable robe, carrying a slender package cradled in his arms. He pauses a moment, watching Mikal for a moment as she dries herself, with a smile upon his lips. "I thank you, Lady, both for your welcome and your invitation. Are you and yours faring well after the battle?"
Mikal unselfconsciously wraps the towel about her damp hair as she finishes drying, pulling on what Ravana recognizes as a light embroidered tunic -- on her it's a short dress that falls to her knees. She rolls up the sleeves as she replies, "For myself, I am well. War is no joy, but it must be dealt with decisively; this I understand." She sighs, glancing towards the silken pavilions a short distance away beyond the intervening trees as she adds quietly, "I... worry somewhat for my companions, however. I am not sure either Bear nor Cat have ever seen war firsthand like this." She's silent a moment... then she looks up at Ravana again and smiles with quiet determination, "However, I shall do my best to make sure they are fine."
He makes a quiet sound, nodding. "No. War is no longer the joy it once was for me. To fight a foe who has been duped, who knows only a twisted version of the truth, and who merely follows the strict orders of an unpresent overlord... there is no joy in that, merely survival and necessity. Should you need any help in speaking with Cat or Bear, Vhibishana has much insight into such that he will be glad to help with. He is very fond of all of you."
Mikal smiles at that, her face lighting up with the sudden sweetness of her expression, "Does he really? That is so nice! I am glad he has not been turned off by some of our adventures together." She nods thoughtfully, adding, "I will certainly keep that generous offer in mind, Ravana Lord. Thank you."
Ravana laughs softly. "You are welcome, Lady." He considers for a moment, fingers tapping against the package. Then he smiles quietly. "I admit, I had not thought of gifting any of you for all the help you gave given us -- even with your help, I was focussed on planning the battle, rather than on winning it! But now that it has passed, we can begin to relax somewhat, and rebuild our defenses. Vhibishana's spies report that the kachinas have struck, and I have been told that Tawhaki is coming to our encampment to deliver his peoples' greetings. I do not know when he will come, but it will be soon and I know he will wish to meet you."
Mikal tilts her head curiously, then remembers her manners, "Interesting, and I have many questions. First, though, may I invite you to share a cool drink with Wolf and me, Ravana Lord, to settle the dusty throat of the battlefield?"
Ravana smiles, tiredly. "Yes, please, that would be a wonderful thing, Lady. I apologize. The relization that war is no longer the enjoyment it once was for me was a harsh one, and I have not been thinking well this day. Something to drink sounds perfect."
Mikal smiles and picks up her basket of goods, casually flipping her damp towel over Raphael's back. He snorts amusedly at her, but paces along with her when she takes Ravana's arm and smiles up at him, "Lead the way then, rakshasa lord!" She's not sure if he'd prefer to be in his tent or hers, but she's willing to let him choose.
His reasoning, apparently, is for Mikal to be comfortable and to be able to simply say he should depart her presence, for he requests that they share the drink in her tent. Though initially a touch distracted, he finds it much easier to focus completely upon her as the minutes pass. Shortly, then, there is a pitcher of sweet lhassa and cups between them, and he is pouring out the drinks for them. "You may be amused to hear," he says, as he pours, "that we have also received some reports that the number of angels in Uriel's army is dropping. And not merely to predation by the kachinas and griffins. It is not down by a great many, but a few here and there."
Mikal relaxes on the cushions, stretched out comfortably with her head resting on Raphael's side, where he lies next to her; the pose does nothing to conceal the fact that she has very nice legs. She looks interested, "Why is that, then? And who is Tawhaki, please?" She'll sit up and thank him for the cup of cool drink once he holds it out to her.
"When an army is low on morale and in retreat," he says, not at all hiding the fact that he is admiring her legs, "it is not uncommon for some within it to break ranks and desert, seeking to hide themselves and escape the madness. We have hardly ever seen angelic deserters, but I think harming Uriel so visibly shook many of them. I have ordered my troops to not pursue any angelic deserters; they are no longer the enemy.
"Tawhaki is a demigod, a greater aethyr who had great congress with many mortals in the time that his gods held sway in the Waking. In particular, he is a bridge between mortals and their gods. He is also one of the few survivors of Uluru. Zion believes he is powerless, but he is cousin to Armaros. I am surprised that he has come out of hiding for this. Your wounding of Uriel has had effects like those of a pebble being dropped into a pond.
Mikal takes a slow sip of the sweet lhassa she holds in both hands, her thoughtful gaze staying on Ravana as he speaks. She grins at Ravana's open admiration, and beams delightedly at the news of both the desertion of some of the angels, and the results of Uriel's wounding. "I am so pleased to hear this, Ravana Lord! It is a true pleasure to know such good has come of our battle today." She interestedly adds, "So what can you tell me of Tawhaki and his possible needs? Does he lead the kachina?"
Mikal searches her brain, and remembers 'kachina' as being spirits of the Hopi, native to the northern continent called America. Hm... so they're staying with the contingent from the Australian continent? Interesting!
Ravana smiles warmly. "I am pleased as well, Lady. It is a true turning point. I am looking forward to what else you and your friends are capable of bringing about!
"Tawhaki is more like a mortal than most aethyrs, but make no mistake, he is an aethyr, and a powerful one. I would be reluctant to fight him myself -- I would likely win, but it would not be a pleasant fight! Fortunately he is not coming to fight, but rather to open talks between the survivors of Uluru and us.
"You see, Uluru is a vast plateau, a flat-topped mountain. It is closer to the Deep Wyld than any god-place. And it is riddled with holes and caverns and tunnels, all throughout it. It is a wonderful place to hide, I have been told. And when the Godswar began, many pantheons who had been previously defeated or beaten down by the flocks of Zion went there to hide and to try and survive. They were -- and are -- a ragged lot, I fear. Gods with but a handful of believers in the Waking, sceptres who survived the purges of their patron deities. Uluru welcomed all of them, and it became a haven... albeit a dangerous one. The caverns and tunnels of Uluru run deep, and while one can hide well within, it is all too easy to find one's self in the Deep Wyld from there... or deep in the Nether.
"An old hill-spirit once told me of a cavern in Uluru, where, if you were careful, you could stand upon a narrow ledge, and look down into a deep chasm. And deep down, you can see the light of the Nether. He told me that some aethyrs and even one god he knew, had been so tormented by the devastation of the Godswar that they would step off that ledge and fall -- forever -- into the Nether."
Ravana collects himself with a deep breath, then continues. "Be that as it may. Tawhaki has become one of the unofficial leaders of the refugees in Uluru. His judgement is trusted, and he is well-regarded. The kachinkas probably informed him of the battle, and the bloody nose Uriel was given, and he perhaps decided it was time for a more unified front against the flocks of Zion. He is, perhaps, coming to gauge the worth of such action."
"As for the kachinkas, he is not of them, they are from a different pantheon, but one that is very compatible with the deities of Uluru, and thus friendly to them."
Mikal nods thoughtfully, listening carefully... then she smiles, "What wonderful news you bring me, Ravana Lord." Her expression gets almost mischievous as she has another sip of her drink, then tilts her head to regard the bundle Ravana has laid next to himself. "I find myself curious, however... have you brought me aught else as well?"
Ravana's smile turns to one that is warmer, and he adjusts his sitting a bit so he is facing her, and holds the package out to her with both hands. "Lady, you and yours have done far, far more than any person could rightly ask of another, in helping us against the Architect's forces. What we have given you in turn has seemed paltry -- merely information, knowledge with which you can only go further forward into harm's way. Please, allow me gift you with this, for many reasons: In gratitude in what you have done for us and the Dreamtime; In respect for the power you have; In tribute to your prowess; and in affection for your grace which you have granted me in your time here. I have met many mortals, Lady, but few have approached you.
Mikal brightens, setting aside her cup and sitting up straight. Her voice is warm with pleasure as she accepts the gift, "You bring me offerings? Ah, you must know of my blessed rituals!" She's still beaming as she lays the wrapped gift across her bare legs, unwrapping it eagerly.
Within the package is a slender blade; made from wootz ore, the blade is dark and elaborately etched without any fallows The hilt is brighter, made of brass with sharkskin wrapped about the grip. A talon of some sort just straight out from the pommel, as if someone has magically 'straightened' the claw of a large cat.
"It is a khanda," Ravana says respectfully. "A blade wielded by the kshatriyas, the warrior-kings of our gods' peoples. This one is lighter, and shorter, more compact and easier for an archer to carry. Lady, you are a devastating archer, and I can only respect your prowess with any bow; but I found myself afeared should any of the white-winged crows come upon you too close to use your bow against them. And thought I know that your brother is inseparable, and that Cat and Bear will always stand by your side, I also know you are mortals, subject to the vagarities of your Waking selves."
Mikal's eyes widen in appreciation at sight of the fine blade, as she carefully draws and examines it. "Oh, Ravana! This is a lovely and fitting offering." She looks up and grins, her eyes sparkling, "I would have you as my priest tonight, I think." She gently resheathes the beautiful sword and sets it carefully aside, rising to step over to where Ravana sits. She's short enough that, even when seated, he's at eye level with her, and she smiles, resting her hands on his shoulders as she leans in to murmur, "I think best if we use your bed, however, yes?" When she finishes speaking she brushes a kiss lightly on his lips, which he eagerly returns.
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