Date: March 30, 2000 (Aether: April 2, 3906)
Place: Limestone Cavern - Beneath Haven
Cast: BroadShoulders, Fox, Ohanko, New Moon
Scene: A group of Eyotajolon Sylvans discuss the tribe's urgent need for a new shaman.

Limestone Cavern - Beneath Haven:
      The walls dance with torchlight and firelight here, leaving the wan phosphorescence of fungus for the narrower and more confining passages. There is warmth, too, and the scent of living with all of its wonders and stinks. A stream burbles through cracks high in one wall, its crystal clear fluid glittering wildly as it flows over brilliantly colored mineral deposits in a rainbow of a waterfall. It pools below and then flows from there down a passage wide enough only for the water to pass through. Sounds dance here, as well, echoed until the inhabitants of the cavern seem doubled or tripled and the noise mixed with every tone: happiness, anger, insistent argument, laughter.
      The pitted walls have been made fit for habitation, the largest and most sheltered of them padded with furs and the objects of living. Some of the paths to these walls are only visible in tiny foot- and hand-holds Shaped carefully in the growing rock. Sylvans sit on flat surfaces, perch in their niches and gather by the pool, while children play in an area thickly forested with stalagmites away from the stream. Stairs artfully Shaped into a natural fissure lead up six feet from one alcove to the surface world, away from this subterranean Sylvan paradise of color and light in the darkness of Grandmother's womb.

The quiet murmur of many people permeates this place, even before dawn. Mingled amongst the snores and quiet conversations are the yawns of those preparing for sleep. Several Sylvans, obviously guards for one place or another, leave for their morning posts; a few minutes later, others return, yawning and heading for the food laid out on a large, flat rock.

The sleepy mutter of an irritable child cuts through the other sounds of underground life for a brief moment, before his mother calms him back to peace. BroadShoulders appears at the head of the stairs, burdened with sacks and feeling his way down. The smith is, as ever, composed and ready to deal with whatever this morning brings -- he hopes.

Fox sits at the pool, his feet dangling in the water idly as he chews on a bit of meat. He returned from his earlier patrol some time ago but didn't feel ready to sleep just yet. Maybe he will during the day, but now he is alert, watching the entrances of those whose watches have ended and the exits of those that are about to begin. He glances back to the niche which holds his sleeping family and almost winces. He really doesn't want to go there today... too full of squealing sisters.

Day and night are meaningless distinctions for those who spend the majority of their time underground. For New Moon, the world consists of various measures of dim light and shadow. He scurries into the main chamber on all fours, emerging from the narrow passage that leads to the natural shrine. He's followed by another fuzzy graisha, a coyote known as Dark-Waters. The pair stop and rise to their feet as they enter, blinking a bit at the sudden light. Noses and ears twitch, however, as they use their other senses to scout the cavern.

BroadShoulders strides over to the food area, and carefully puts his sacks down. He opens one and sticks a hand in, lifting it to reveal grains of ripe wheat trickling through his fingers back into the sack. That sack is left open, its friends sitting beside it, as the smith turns to see who is up and about at this hour.

Fox catches BroadShoulders' scent before he is even seen. He always smells of the smoke of the forge. He turns to watch the smith's movements, but looks a bit disappointed as the sacks reveal grain. Well, others will no doubt appreciate it. Two more scents appear and he looks towards the other graisha with a little more attention to them. He tries to judge by their look as to whether they found anything on their venture.

If New Moon and his companion had been 'venturing' during the night, they've long since dropped off their booty in the storerooms. These two have been engaged in worship, though whether they were seeking blessings for an upcoming expedition or giving thanks after returning is unclear. The Nancha leader sniffs the air for a few seconds before turning his head to look first at BroadShoulders and then at Fox. After a glance at the coyote graisha, he starts across the cavern, the other following behind.

BroadShoulders sees New Moon awake and walks over to intercept the graisha. The smith's voice is low, to avoid waking those in the land of nod, but he seems pleased to see the leader of the Nancha. "Chookma, New Moon. How went the hunt?"

Fox gnaws on the bone now, watching as the smith speaks to the two graisha. Well, he hasn't been to the surface yet at all today, so hopefully they can't get on his case about that. Has he gotten himself into so much trouble that he thinks that they will speak of him?

The green eyes that follow BroadShoulders' progress are all that definitively mark New Moon as Sylvan; his animal features effectively obscure the other tell-tale signs. Long whiskers shudder as the elder speaks, a frown turning his lips. The graisha shakes his head slowly. "Not good," he hisses through the snout full of pointed teeth. "This is th' second straight week."

BroadShoulders, talking to New Moon, looks a little surprised and more than a little curious. "The second straight week of what?"

Ohanko sloshes slowly into view from the tunnel entrance.

Fox's ear twitches slightly as he tries to listen, yet not seem too obvious. He breaks the bone he was chewing on with a loud *snap* that echoes briefly. As he sucks at the marrow, he glances to the others, trying to remember if he has gotten into trouble lately.

New Moon scowls, showing needle-like teeth, his hair bristling a bit. Tilting his head slightly as his torso faintly sways, he fixes the much larger man a steady stare. "O' poor hunts. S'been bad fer two weeks now."

Dark-Waters, looking at BroadShoulders over New Moon's shoulder, nods his head solemnly in agreement.

BroadShoulders grimaces, obviously not amused. "What's happened? The Hounds too vigilant, or the shopkeepers keeping a paranoid eye on things? Or is it something else you haven't spoken about yet?" BroadShoulders has been expecting the first two, but it couldn't be a problem in the tribe, after all, could it? Not with New Moon in charge of the Nancha.

Ohanko tosses a red velvet purse, full of coins and obviously not his, into the air as he walks, catching behind his back and generally acting like an idiot.

Fox turns at the sound with a start, frowning at Ohanko. They can't eat coins, can they? He stands, shaking the excess water from his feet and makes his way over to the others. He's tried some thieving on the surface, but he hasn't been too good at it of late either. He's been getting caught more often as not.

New Moon's nose twitches some more as Ohanko arrives from the sewer entrance, and he watches the pouch as it spins through the air. Shaking his head, he turns to watch Fox's approach. "Nah, not that," comes the sibilant reply. "The tunnels've been empty. No meat there. An' topside, good marks always turn out lean. They never got a' much a' they look like they got." He snarls at a spot on the stone floor. "Not good..." he mutters.

BroadShoulders says, "Pilgrims should start coming in soon, though, by the crowds at that piece of wood. Easy marks, the lot of 'em. Although I don't know why they all make so much fuss about it -- the Gods do that all sort of thing all the time. I saw a cloud with the Sky-Father on it, and people started babbling about this 'Kronos.'" He pauses for a moment. "Although I wish Hagar was here. If the Sky-Father is showing himself to all and sundry, there has to be a meaning to it."

Fox steps a little closer, waiting a moment before offering his own ideas. It's coming onto spring, and those that would be underground have gone back above ground. Maybe if they tried at the edges of the forest they'd have better luck? He's rarely gestured so much in one space of time. Hopefully the gist of it got through...

From necessity, New Moon has learned a few of the mute young man's signs, and he watches Fox's gestures with a furrowed brow. Whether he actually understands or not, though, is left in doubt as his response is a simple nod and a 'hmm.' He looks up to BroadShoulders, continuing to frown. "Maybe," he offers doubtfully. "More marks is good, but seeing Tirawa maybe isn't so good."

He sighs, shaking his head giving Dark-Waters an opportunity to quietly interject, "These're questions for a shaman."

BroadShoulders sighs. "Fox, do you know what's edible in the Forest? I don't. I can guess that animals are good to eat, but plants? If you know, or any of the others, then I'd say go -- just don't stray into Tribal territories. We're not that badly off." Back to Dark-Waters and New Moon. "Yes, these are matters for a Shaman, but I can't help worrying. Without someone here to interpret the signs, what happens if we should have taken action? Do we go to the forest-tribes and speak to their Shaman, or wait until the Grandmother sends ours back to us?"

Well, Fox is at a loss there, as he hasn't the first idea about what plants can be eaten in the forest. He knows that not all mushrooms are good to eat, and not all berries... and that's about it. But he specifically mentioned hunting, but he's being ignored... again. It's really beginning to grate on his nerves. He shrugs when mention of the Skyfather comes up. Why would he manifest himself in a fence or whatever?

New Moon's hackles rise, and he hisses involuntarily, glaring at BroadShoulders. "No," he sputters forcefully. His eyes flash. "If Eyotajolon magic is weak, we need a Eyotajolon answer! How's a tree shaman gonna help our tunnel hunting?" With a snort, he turns to Fox. "You want th' spider ta leave th' web an' chase prey. We hunt our way like your ancestors before you."

BroadShoulders shrugs. "I think you're right, New Moon. Let us hope the Grandmother sends a new Shaman to us soon, and pray that these signs are not meant for us, to tell us that we should be doing something." To Fox, "Which animals can be eaten? How would you catch them? Do you even know how big a deer is? Plants, at least, don't run away or fight back."

Fox's lips curl back in a slight snarl as he signs that they can't hunt if there's no food. He even glares at BroadShoulders as he was just offering a suggestion. He didn't expect to be jumped at for it.

New Moon turns another scowl at Fox, almost by reflex. The young man always seems to deserve one whether there's a clear reason for it or not. After a short moment, though, he allows himself a reluctant nod in agreement to the gestured point. Looking back at BroadShoulders, he narrows his eyes. "S'time th' elders did something more than talk. Hagar's gone, an' you need ta choose another shaman for us." He punctuates his statement with a quick nod.

BroadShoulders nods. "Have you tried telling the others that, though? I keep saying we need at least one new Elder, as well. Someone to put more energy into the meetings."

Fox scowls, looking first to BroadShoulders, gesturing that he must be crazy if he thinks that will solve this. He then turns to New Moon and continues with gesturing. It's times like these when he actually misses speaking. 'The hunting problem won't be solved by a new Shaman... unless we hunt them.'

As his green eyes widen in surprise, New Moon swiftly makes an open-handed swipe at Fox's cheek. He curls his lips, baring his teeth in anger. "You keep your blasphemous thoughts to yerself! It's no wonder the gods haven't smiled on our hunts!" He snarls in a very animalistic way. "Without a shaman, what hope've we got o' currying their favor? An' what if an evil spirit has cursed us? What then, ya little rat?? Who'll chase it away? You?" With a snort, the small graisha swings his head back to BroadShoulders and points his index finger at the blacksmith's large chest. "There's no more time ta make excuses. We need a shaman."

BroadShoulders allows a trace of irritation to show through. "Yes, we do. Who do you have in mind? The Elders are split over who to appoint, or whether we should wait for the return of Hagar. Cat's leaving threw a Hound into the tribe, and these symbols are worrying us all."

Fox isn't fast enough to block the swipe and brings his hand up to the stinging cheek, a growl beginning. His snarl doesn't fade as he 'loudly' gestures to both, although the words are meant for New Moon, 'Are you the only one to speak for the Nancha then? You may lead us, but you cannot control what we... what I think!'

New Moon turns to Fox and raises his hand, cocking it over his shoulder to feint another swipe. With a toothy scowl, he hisses, "If yer thoughts are blasphemy, I can sure smack you for 'em. Now mind what you say," he sputters, "I mean what you gesture. You'll cause th' ruin o' th' tribe!"

BroadShoulders stays silent. If New Moon hadn't swiped Fox, the smith would have -- and he hits harder. Eyes narrow, and his irritation is all for Fox. "Blasphemy is not to be tolerated, and will not be. If you wish to make the Gods angry, do it on your own. Be grateful we have no Shaman, for she would have done more than hit you, I think."

But... but it's not blasphemy! Fox was just stating a fact! His eyes narrow as he signs angrily, 'So now I can't even say what I think?' It's bad enough that he can't speak, but now he has to blindly agree and follow? 'Why don't we make our own offerings... in place of the Shaman until we get one?' Can't they all try to be the Shaman? All together? 'That's what a tribe is, yes?' He almost braces himself for another blow.

New Moon is fuming. He lowers his hand and then flings both of his arms outward in frustration. "Haven't ya been taught anything? Who'll we make offerings to? How do we know what th' problem is without someone ta See it?" The capitalization of the word 'See' is implied by his inflection. "I do the rituals before an' after a hunt, an' I hope you do, too, but can ya tell me why they aren't working? Hmm?"

BroadShoulders nods, agreeing. "Fox, the Shaman is the one who speaks for us all to the Gods. We all do our part to thank them, as is proper, and ask them for luck, which cannot hurt, but a Shaman is the only one who can actually receive their answers."

Of course he does the rituals before and after the hunt. He's not stupid. And he knows what a Shaman does. But when there isn't one, do they just admit defeat? 'How do we find a Shaman then?' Fox doesn't want to get hit again, so he might as well go along with their conversation. The growl stops but he still doesn't look too pleased.

New Moon has had just about enough of this whole conversation. His mother always said that he was too quick to become frustrated. Looking at Fox quietly for a few seconds, the man's lip twitches slightly. Then he suddenly turns to BroadShoulders and gives a short jab with a finger into the air in the large Sylvan's direction. "We get a shaman when th' elders stop worrying 'bout th' Hounds an' th' Outcasts long enough ta pick one." He snorts derisively. It's an oversimplification of the process, but he's not in the mood to talk about it any more. He looks back at Dark-Waters and then at the other two. "I've gotta go," he mutters, turning away from everyone and preparing to be off.

BroadShoulders folds his arms. He agrees with New Moon, but isn't going to say so. Even his dealings with the Outcasts have been put on hold for now, in the effort to put some sense in stubborn old heads -- but saying that out loud isn't going to help anyone.

Fox sighs loudly and glances to the niches where said elders sleep. They shouldn't be worried about the Hounds... they're busy with the Varati right now, yes?

Since silence follows his last proclamation, New Moon stalks off, his short legs making his pace somewhat slower than he'd prefer. The coyote-graisha follows behind, but unlike the weasel, he spares a glance back at BroadShoulders and Fox. That youngster is infuriating. Simply infuriating. The two begin their ascent toward the ceiling exit.

FIN  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]