A World Unveiled
Twenty-Second Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
It costs you nothing save speed that you do not need to take human shape and fly by sorcery alone, and so you do, revealing yourself at what you hope is a great enough distance to make it clear you had no intention of sneaking among the herd. Indeed, after the initial awkwardness of speaking through Varys for lack of a common tongue introductions prove simple enough, bereft of any ritual or formality and little wonder.
"We awoke to the skies two turnings of the stars ago," the Head Mare, an old female of dappled coat and deep thoughtful eyes.
"We knew that we were not as we had been and could not dwell among those still shackled to earth for the wind called to us in sweet voices and taught us its secretes. We learned of fresh fragrant meadows and clear streams high in the mountains where your people do not dwell and none would seek to hunt us."
At a guess, the northerners had most likely been trying to capture the winged horses not hunt them, but you do not make the correction. You doubt slavery would be seen as any better than death, and you certainly do not wish them to consider carrying another aloft with those eyes.
Alas, even without that misstep you have hard course to thread ahead of you, simply because the small herd lacks for nothing of what it most desires in the sheltered meadows of the of the Frostback Mountains. There is plenty of grazing, and their swiftness and grace in the air sees them safe from shadow cats and other beasts, while their sheer size deters birds of prey from all but the youngest foals which are kept safe in or near the crags until they can safely fly farther.
"Don't you want to see what's past the horizon, though? There's a whole world out there filled with all sorts of things you can't even imagine now. Some of it you'll hate sure, but some of it you'll love," Vee points out, speaking through a more direct mind bond now that the Head Mare trusted you enough to forge a spell for the purpose.
"The mountain holds you tight sure as the ground did before you got your wings..." For a moment you are startled by the quiet fervor in the thought before realizing your friend speaks from her own experience of the world outside the Braavosi marshlands.
"Unseen joys are fine enough to speak of, but offer little comfort in the here-and-now," the leader of the herd interjects.
"As to that we offer these small gifts, works of sorcery to ward mind and body." So saying you lay down on the stone between you three amulets of protection and three healing belts, going on to explain first their function and then what sorcery is and how it is different from mundane workings, for whatever power had given the winged horses mastery of the skies had also opened their eyes to the unseen as naturally as an owl might see by moonlight.
Lost 3 Healing Belts and 3 Amulets of Protection from Evil
By the time you are done, the old mare is at least cautiously interested as she seeks counsel with her fellows in a mingling of body language, snorts and neighs, and even simple patterns drawn in the stony earth.
"We will send emissaries to your place of built caves and judge by the word they bring back," is their decision.
What follows is perhaps the strangest, certainly the longest tour of Sorcerer's Deep you have ever given as you have to stop to explain aspects of life you had never before considered, like the helplessness of human infants and the reasons why men might wish to sing, wear clothes, and a thousand other tiny details that seem to your visitors utterly strange.
In the end, Sorcerer's Deep is deemed too loud and crowded, but Mosshold is not. Better still, once you explain how they might serve to carry riders, in exchange for a stipend, your guests grow less wary not more, satisfied to see the motivation behind your actions. The universal refusal to wear a saddle is a slight problem, but you are certain there are plenty of Dothraki who would dispense with that in an instant for the honor of riding a flying horse.
Hopefully they won't teach them too many poor habits.
***
Twenty-Third Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
By the morning of the next day the whole herd, sixty seven adults and nineteen foals, is settled in Mosshold, recovering from the long flight, and in the case of the foals enjoying carrots, apples, and other treats by the handful.
"I wonder if they will be able to fly at this rate," Varys hisses to you alone, amused at the sight.
Gained 86 Pegasi (67 adults 19 foals)
"I'm sure they will manage somehow. You do, after all," you reply in like tone, to be met with a mock-offended huff.
What do you do next?
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OOC: It's not often that Vee gets to do diplomacy but she worked out pretty well here. Not yet beta-ed.
