Cold Ones' Council
Twenty Sixth Day of the Fourth Month 293 AC
As you look into the slitted crimson eyes you see not the strange or the macabre, not the monster other men might name before this tableau, but an all too familiar fear, a being whose entire world was overturned clinging to the security of yesteryear. Alas that that is but a chimera, a monster more terrible than all the beasts of the jungle, than all the unresting dead, one that can devour whole people in the dark belly of apathy and fear.
Thus you begin, speaking naught but truth as you see it: "Strife has come over all lands of this world, be it from the work of gods, people coming learning the arts of magic, or beings from other worlds intruding into ours. Rest assured we mean not to bring strife to your lands and Yss has sent us to aid, not to subjugate, but know that there are other gods in this world. They do not care if you shun or glorify them, but only to bring cold and darkness to all who live. I have come in peace and friendship, for quarrel among the people of the world serves only our enemies."
"We have no quarrel with you, fire wyrm." The thought feels almost startled... again the softer voice. Perhaps you had their meaning, all too used to men whose blood runs hot at the sight of seeming interlopers, at times irrationally so.
"Good," you nod, the gesture still feeling odd wearing a dragon's skin, for among that haughty kindred a bow or anything that might be mistaken for it is a rare and precious thing. "Then let us see that the turnskin did not leave anymore traps or other contingencies to make any survivors of his fall suffer for it...."
"What're your names," Vee interrupts, frowning a little. Faced with the gaze of the mage, or as you are beginning to suspect
mages, the girl shrugs. "Seems rude to think of you as 'those white snakes'."
"You have a great many courtesies and taboos," Ashir notes, sounding amused and intrigued in equal measure.
"
We are Riz'Neth," the two voices speak as one. There is closeness, even faint warmth, as they proclaim it.
"And now we would have your names..." Perhaps they are not quite sure how to manage this exchange of names other than as a trade, which you suppose ultimately it is.
One by one you introduce your companions, knowing that Lya will soon wish to be introduced also, if only for the chance to witness an entirely different perspective on the world and on the Art of Sorcery. Perhaps she will even need some help understanding the relics Tor had likely stolen from the necropolis... The thought trails off into unpleasant implications. You can only hope the snake kin are as straightforward about looting corpses as they are otherwise dealing with them.
"Did any other among the sun-walkers survive the machinations of the turnskin?" Garin asks unexpectedly, drawing you from your thoughts.
"Some certainly, let us asks the prisoners for more on the matter of their kin-slaying fellows," the deep dwelling magus turns its, or rather
their, attention to the prisoners, not with the hate you had half expected, but with cold calculation.
Curious, you motion to Vee to heal the bound hunter, but make no other move. While the left head continues to weave gently through the air in thought, the right fixes utters a complex almost melodic hiss and though the incantation is wholly strange to you the sudden shift in body language from the prisoner is not. The same sort of
spell you had woven so long ago in Braavos. You wonder if charming his own kind as a simple to the pale mage as it is for you to make men drop their guard.
Regardless you get your answers swiftly, almost eagerly, as enchantment and the prisoner's own desire to live conspire to put paid any lingering allegiance he may have had to Tor. There are seven-and-forty more sun-dwellers hidden in the surrounding jungles, roughly two thirds of them following Tor out of loyalty or fear and the rest enchanted. He offers to lead you there in exchange for his life, an offer the other prisoners echo upon being awoken.
"Their servitude would be... adequate recompense for the harm they did my people," Riz'Neth allows.
Slavery... of course they would think slavery is an adequate punishment even here at the ends of the bloody world. You manage to bite back a curse, though not the wisps of black smoke that emerges from your nostrils. "A third introduction to the peculiarities of my people is in order I think..." You begin, honestly not sure where to start, until the idea strikes you, pride: "We believe that it is demeaning to all thinking folk that some should be kept in unthinking bondage by others. It bespeaks of reducing that which should be sublime to the the role of a mere beast"
"You spend too much of your lives looking over each other's shoulders," one of the pair hisses.
"Yet it is an interesting philosophical point," the other continues.
"We will think on this," they consent.
The path to the hidden camp is narrow and often treacherous as it winds through the stagnant pools of water teeming with magic-tainted life, one of which prompts Waymar to note half in jest and half in genuine disgust that 'the spiders weren't so bad.' Looking at the pulsing amalgamation of bat and stinging mosquito you have to agree.
"They stick around here where the ground can swallow beasts and folk, so they can suck 'em dry while the can't move," Vee notes, a small smile in her corner of her mouth making it clear that she is quite aware of the affect of her words.
"I hereby request a royal writ to have all these things exterminated wherever they can be," Tyene asks in mock formality.
"Granted," you answer instantly. "After we've netted a few for research," you amend absently a moment later.
Riz'Neth had been watching, and no doubt 'listening' to the byplay with seeming bemusement but they do not comment, splitting most of their attention on your charmed guides and the jungle beyond. More than once they use magic unprompted to disable some of the crude but vicious traps left along the trail, at one point pausing to scrape off a sample of what must have been particularly interesting poison. Soon enough, however, you near your goal and must consider what do do upon reaching it.
How do you greet Tor's former servants and what terms do you try to impose?
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OOC: I was tempted to pause the update at the slavery issue but in the end I choose to let Viserys' social skills roll through it and get the party moving rather than having another pure back and forth talking update, especially since the matter of slavery has been discussed a lot previously.