[X] the middle path, the broadest and straightest. It bears the marks of footprints, wheels and skittercycles' legs--clearly, the loggers have recently made use of this one, and it continues deep into the forest.
[X] Steele and Grail in lead, bat behind
I'd prefer to have Steele rearguard so nothing happens to our wonderful bat, but if you can't trust voices behind you to not be spooky murder lizards, then you can't really talk to each other at all unless you're next to or facing each other. So, go for the option with actual dialogue, hope nothing terrible happens to our bat friend. Besides, walking next to each other does provide the best vibe for just casual chatting in the brief moment before the woods get scary enough that you need to be serious about things.
[X] the middle path, the broadest and straightest. It bears the marks of footprints, wheels and skittercycles' legs--clearly, the loggers have recently made use of this one, and it continues deep into the forest.
Seems like the most likely path for a caravan to have taken (I guess?)
[X] Steele in lead, bat behind, Grail rearguard
Leaving the bat in back seems like the surest way to wind up short a bat.
...what constitutes "Tribute?" Just in case it becomes important, mind.
[x] the rightmost path, which skews off almost horizontally right before curving over a ridge and out of sight. The wind carries the scent of running water to you down this path.
[x] Grail in lead, bat behind, Steele rearguard
[X] the rightmost path, which skews off almost horizontally right before curving over a ridge and out of sight. The wind carries the scent of running water to you down this path.
[X] Grail in lead, bat behind, Steele rearguard
Definitely raising the possibility that the lizard-people are trying to keep something contained deep in the forest (or those ruins) rather than just being weird territorial dickbags, and a lot of the rules are passed on from them to minimize the damage caused by the phenomena they can't totally suppress.
also, i didn't at all consider that your friend might be returned to you, like
if you hear a voice behind yhou and shouldn't turn around, your friend is presumably considered to be a Goner, no?
so if Grail was rearguard, Steele listening to us... on the one hand, if nothing spooky nonsensetimes happens, that'd be a decent call; on the other, how can we be sure (and how could SHE be sure) that what she was hearing was actually us? or that she wasn't hearing Extra Things, or having things selectively transmitted from grailmouth to steele'd ear?
also, i didn't at all consider that your friend might be returned to you, like
if you hear a voice behind yhou and shouldn't turn around, your friend is presumably considered to be a Goner, no?
The implication is that what you hear behind you isn't actually the person it sounds like. Though that does beg the question of whether that applies to people you are explicitly (and currently) traveling with... (I.e. people in your traveling party who haven't wandered off)
I do think it's fair to reiterate that all the "don't turn around"s are case-specific--it's not a "you can never turn around under any circumstances," just a "only if you think things are messed up in these ways"
I can't presume to know what the author has in mind, but we seem to be going with Slavic folklore edited to fit with the setting.
The tales of Leshy are widespread because the forest is a vast, untamed and dangerous place (much like the sea; have you heard of the sheer number of superstitions seamen have?), and a frightened traveler is predisposed to see threatening shapes in the tree trunks and hear voices in the whistling of wind.
So it's less "infiltrating the party and holding a conversation to mislead you", and more like "a duck-call imitation luring you astray"; if you come chasing after the wind it is only natural that you won't find anything and get lost for your trouble. Now, these directions look very specific, implying a presense behind you, and by all accounts Leshys are shapeshifters, but if you've attracted their personal attention to the point where they care about playing a prolonged and elaborate trick on you, you may have bigger problems. I expect it to be a vague "someone else's voice you think you recognize", and occasionally substituting for your companion while they are being tested/played with. As in, if their replies stop making sense and you can tell something is amiss, play along - you don't know how they will react if you call them out on it.
As for your friend being a goner, it is assumed that nothing happens in the forest without its master's (or masters') say so, so they aren't gone until you've seen the body, just lost. Think of it as Fae taking their victims and requiring something in return to set them free... although the Fae are much less inclined to give back what they've taken. Supposedly, the rules are there to prevent it from happening in the first place, and an apology and recompense should suffice if the offense given by breaking them is relatively light.
[X] the rightmost path, which skews off almost horizontally right before curving over a ridge and out of sight. The wind carries the scent of running water to you down this path.
[X] Steele and Grail in lead, bat behind
By unspoken agreement, you and Steele close ranks. Shoulder to shoulder, neither behind the other, you continue forward with the bat padding along close behind. You've gotten its halter hooked over one of your spurs so that you can feel the bat's presence, its warm snuffling breath, and you can turn to look at your partner without risking turning around. With your hopefully Yasheritsi-resistant marching order put in place, your little party follows your pointing finger--it's the rightmost path for you. Running water, you remember from the lectures, is a good thing to find and follow in the wilderness and the woods? Maybe? What do you know about wilderness and water, you're urban! You channel [Fog], not [Hunt]. Still, Steele's trusting in your nose to guide you into the woods. When it comes right down to it, half-remembered trivia about a hunting ground you never prepared for is slightly better than blind, no-looking luck.
You know, maybe.
The path is immediately hemmed in by the trees, tall gnarly trunks and lower, thornier bushes preventing access to the clearing you know is mere cubits to your right, and, a few paces along the path, the chilly, bright late Fading Sun daylight gives way to the darker and greener light of the Yasherits Forest. Pine needles and snow crunch lightly under Steele's boots as you walk the path--the claws of your bat and your own tarsals leave much lighter imprints. A lesser tracker wouldn't be totally inept for thinking that only a single person's in your party, by hearing alone. They would be for relying on a single sense, of course, but you don't think the Unchosen train as extensively in redundancies as any sensible person might.
The crunching is the only sound--again, you're no expert on forests, but you thought there were... birds? Bats? Rats? Literally anything, actually. But you, Steele and the bat brought all the sound in the entire forest with you.
The path begins curving gently over a long, slow rise in the land, heading deeper into the forest, and, as you walk, the silence becomes heavy enough that it breaks under its own weight.
"So--" you and Steele say at the exact same time. She laughs first, turning slightly away to bury her mouth in the bandana around her neck, and that sets you off, hissing whistling laughter through exposed fangs.
"Go ahead," she invites, cracking her knuckles with faintly metallic little pops and pings.
"I was just wondering about if you know anything more specific about where this caravan is," you admit. "Landmarks? Trails? Bodies in the trees, blood in the water, normal stuff like that?"
She makes a funny little gesture, hands held slightly up and moving each knuckle in turn in a wave pattern, the glassy golden light of her magic shifting around her fingers. You're a little mesmerized.
"From what I could glean--which isn't much, saving your life was the biggest favor I've done for you, but giving you this job without making you listen to this absolute blithering idiot who lost the caravan is a close second--we're looking for a clearing, a source of water, and a big fallen tree. I only got that much from listening between the lines about environment and his complaints about water damage," she replies, "and it's better than nothing but only on a technicality. Does that work for you?"
"Water, I can follow," you say with relief. "We're on this path because I smelled running water anyway."
"Perfect!" she grins. "We're practically there already."
You crest the ridge at last, and see the source of that water-smell. A crystal-clear creek radiating cold curves around from the west up to the north and further in--given that you can see the hole in the far curve of the stone ridge that it emerges from to the west, following the creek is a one-way path to the north. Weirdly enough, though you should have been able to hear it this whole time, it only makes a noise now that you can see it. The trees part around its banks, but join branches above, keeping the area in shade. You point along the creek, and the group keeps moving in that direction. The sound of your passage lessens, partially thanks to less snow on the ground, and partially thanks to Steele planting her feet more deliberately.
It's a more or less straight path to deeper into the woods, now, which lets you return to the conversation.
"We interrupted each other. What did you want to say?" you ask, good eye rolling to look at her while the other stays fixed ahead. Not that anyone can tell, given the pupil situation. Nobody can tell where the good eye's looking, and that's saved you more than once.
"Oh, thanks. Well, I know a lot of Lo--Vesakh aren't much for small talk, but you seem fine with it," she begins, "so I thought, since we're traveling together, it might do us well to break a little ice, yeah? I know you're young, new to Qoma, fast and talented, and also a big fan of beef marrow, and you know... well, I wouldn't presume. I don't imagine you're prepared to spill everything that's ever happened to you, of course, but it helps to know a little bit about your partners, when harrowing. Being all surly and reticent and thinking that makes you professional is a good way to get bushwhacked and left for dead."
She flashes you that smile, and it bypasses the first layer of your natural suspicion like a starmetal spear. Still, you're not a complete soft touch.
As the creekside path stretches on, barely turning and curving, you decide that it can't hurt, if you're cautious about your answers.
"Sure," you concede. "Makes sense. You first, though."
She chuckles. "I'd expect no less. Go ahead! I'm... well, to say 'an open book' would demean us both, but I'm at least a book that won't sink a poison needle into your finger if you flip the wrong page."
[ ] "I haven't met many Unchosen, I admit, but definitely none with <mutations>, uh, alterations like yours. Mind sharing?"
[ ] "You fought like a Ninth against Vey. What's that style you used, and have you done that before? Against them?"
[ ] "...Why travel with me? Not to catch your rats for you or anything, but you seem, in general, to be operating at a level beyond a Second on her first jaunt."
[ ] "I've been reading the papers. Thoughts on the current situation, abroad? With the, uh, countries and such?"
[ ] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
At length, she asks some questions in response. What do you feel safe enough answering?
[ ] Questions about life in Vespergren.
[ ] Questions about past allies and crew.
[ ] Questions about weapons, plunder and fighting.
[ ] Questions about food, recreation and relationships.
[ ] Questions about current events and topics in the papers.
And what do you accidentally do?
[ ] Overshare about your past.
[ ] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
[ ] Admit, aloud, to a weakness in your style and/or skillset.
[ ] Expose your feelings about the situation at large and her in specific.
[ ✅ ] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh." this is actually the highest compliment you can pay a person,
as tempting as 'what's your favorite food, whaddya do for fun, and whomst u rollin' wit' is, comfy breeze-shooting stronk... [ ✅ ] Questions about current events and topics in the papers. "Hey Grail, did you know that (politician) bad?"
[ ✅ ] Overshare about your past. as funny as 'AND I THINK YOU'RE VERY SCARY (beautiful) AND THAT'S VERY DISCONCERTING' outta nowhere could be, and as tempted as I, Esper, am to know more about that weird Vesakh Custom Shit, I want Grail to suffer as I have suffered, and just accidentally let slip some of that Real Traumatic Shit that makes all your new friends go 'oh god what the fuck'
and you go 'AND MY EXISTENCE, WHILE ABHORRENT TO YOU, SAVES LIVES. YOU WANT ME ON THAT WALL. YOU NEED ME ON THAT WALL-'
Running water, you remember from the lectures, is a good thing to find and follow in the wilderness and the woods? Maybe? What do you know about wilderness and water, you're urban! You channel [Fog], not [Hunt].
The tales of Leshy are widespread because the forest is a vast, untamed and dangerous place (much like the sea; have you heard of the sheer number of superstitions seamen have?), and a frightened traveler is predisposed to see threatening shapes in the tree trunks and hear voices in the whistling of wind.
I see! And I guess I should really know more about Slavic folklore, given the circumstances? I defaulted to that fae shit, that SCP shit, that 'what do you mean you accidentally married the queen of the winter court- WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T WANT TO FIX IT' shit,
also if the lizard bullies you it's not bullying to shoot it dead
apparently in kenya crocomgaters will camoflauge themselves in mud, like, by pathways? my son was confused when his buddy turned around and shot one muchly, as a being who had a pet saurisuchian once -- he asked why they don't just relocate them, and his buddy said they always come back; my reaction to this tale was, of course, 'if it's by the path there's a risk of some kid getting got, better the gator gets gatted than that'
[X] "I haven't met many Unchosen, I admit, but definitely none with <mutations>, uh, alterations like yours. Mind sharing?"
[X] Questions about life in Vespergren.
[X] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
[X] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
[X] Questions about life in Vespergren.
[X] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
Very tempted to go for the accidental confession, but it still feels a bit premature atm and more LocustVesakh Facts™ sounds very interesting.
[x] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."'
Aww, just one? I kinda want to know of the alteration traditions of the Unchosen... or lack of thereof. It's a topic we have in common!
[x] Questions about past allies and crew.
What's past is in the past. It's a safe enough ground to thread, and relevant to Steele's situation as our companion. Plus, it's a question that goes well with the one we are asking, the tale of her own past deeds.
[x] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
[X] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
[X] Questions about life in Vespergren.
[X] Expose your feelings about the situation at large and her in specific.
[X] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
[X] Questions about past allies and crew.
[X] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
This seems like an equitable and logical chain of conversation. There's a few ways for any of the other options to sort of pop up, except maybe the 'ongoing current events' ones, and also I Like Learning About Vesakh Culture, plus we get to chase an interesting little detail (there's a reason that Steele's nom de guerre popped up in that prophecy; it might be prophecy's tendency towards metaphor, or the events that lead to that title are relevant to the prophecy; it'd be good to know what those events were, just in case it's the latter). It'd be Heckin' Cute to see Grail trip over a confession of affection, admittedly, but of the options presented, I think this leads to the most interesting and genuinely relationship building conversation.
[X] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
[X] Questions about past allies and crew.
[X] Overshare about your past.
It'd be Heckin' Cute to see Grail trip over a confession of affection, admittedly, but of the options presented, I think this leads to the most interesting and genuinely relationship building conversation.
[X] "I heard you get called 'Falling Star' at some point. That mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle, you don't look like a Graver, heh."
[X] Questions about past allies and crew.
[X] Let loose something obscure about Vesakh custom.
The creek stretches on for quite some time with barely any change in direction, only swelling and shrinking moderately along its length, the banks having no exciting ridges or hills, only gentle slopes. With such an uninspiring landscape to trek along for such a long time, you succumb to Steele's scandalous offer of friendly conversation and her appealing smile, and cautiously agree to holding that most dangerous, even fatal of mid-mission pastimes--small talk with a colleague. The horror.
Like any good hunter, she let you make the first move so you could stumble into her trap later on, but what else can you do? You have the vague idea that if you don't engage with this right, or are too cagey, you'll lock yourself out of getting to know Steele better. Unchosen are weird. Still, that's a free question to ask. A lot of questions about her past and experiences, advice for mercenaries, or the outside-Vespergren world in general all come to mind, but ultimately you can't stop yourself from asking the most burning question of all. Something that's been bugging you since you woke up and remembered the fight with Mock Vey. Namely,
"So, I heard you get called Falling Star at some point back there, that mean anything to you? What's the story behind that handle? Far as I can tell, you don't seem like a Graver."
You try to smile, make it seem friendly and nonthreatening. Maybe it worked? She looks thoughtful for a moment, before sighing and stretching her wings a little. The feathers ruffle and rustle.
"You were paying attention during that part, huh? Yeah, Falling Star. At a certain level, every sellsword worth their salt and lead gains a name or two for their very own. Some try to make nicknames work, mostly amateur independents from the Free Cities or pirate lanes, but the best names are given. I'm... pretty damn good, so I have one. Comes from how I look when dive-attacking, I'm told it's like the Wrath of Scal. Not sure I'm too fond of it, really, but it does its job--that's a name with reputation trailing from it, right there. Once you've got one of those, you'll never lack for work. Or punks on the rise who want to fast-track their reps."
You nod. Makes perfect sense to you. Names are assigned, in Vespergren, by augurs to those who survive their First Treatment, and use-names just sort of coalesce from your peers out of them soon after.
"Just curious?" she asks, gaze flickering to you. You shrug and smile.
"Yeah, I just wanted to know. Any name that feels at home in a Territory kind of suggests a hell of a story behind it when you find it on an Un--on someone from elsewhere."
She sees your smile and returns it, seemingly genuine, some of the tension leaving as you don't press the issue any further. A little more time passes, then she decides to return fire.
"Alright, my turn. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but I've been doing this long enough that I don't think I am. You fight like someone who hasn't worked with someone in a while... but who used to. Your teamwork's rusty, but present, and was getting better right before Vey knocked you out of the sky." You wince, and she chuckles. "Sorry, but yeah. You fight like you used to have someone or someones to fight by your side, and I've fought against, and occasionally alongside, enough Vesakh to know that that's kind of a big deal for y'all. So, mind telling me about it? If you do, just say the word, but it's like I said--knowing a little more about each others' deal helps us do a better job, and I want this little thing we have to be functional, at least for the time being."
You take a deep breath. That's not a place you'd expected her to go, and the reprisal you'd prepared if any Vesakh pressed you on it dies in your throat. The instinct to mistrust is one you're actively trying to resist, even as you also try to keep suitable minimum caution at hand, but that's a sore spot. Still, you think you can explore it without making the wound worse. And... doesn't part of you want to talk about it? To pull the blockage out like removing an arrow-head and let the healing blood surge forth to undo the old wound? It's a lot easier said than done, but maybe that process starts here, with this gorgeous, terrifying woman, sharing facts in the still and snowy wood. You nod to show you heard and agree, clear your throat, and crack your knuckles. Here goes... more than you'd like to admit.
"So," you begin, "what do you know about crew?"
"I assume you don't mean the folks that keep a ship, ironclad or similar running?"
"Yeah, no, different thing. Vaadeshk, is the word in Ashvakrev, or the one I understood best anyway. 'Won't-kill-you folk.' Crew, you can count on in a pinch. You don't kill crew. You don't betray crew. You fight together, you share the loot and spoils, you share the pain and trials. You argue, you bicker, a leader probably emerges, but when it comes down to it, you can trust crew not to backstab you even when they wouldn't face any consequences for it."
"You mean, like. Having friends?"
"I still don't get that!" you complain. "It's like crew but weaker, and it happens at random and with way more people, no markers or pacts or anything. It's promiscuous, is what it is. Doesn't make a lick of sense."
At that, Steele bursts out laughing, a single bright peal before she quiets it to muffled snickering, something that both baffles you and makes you want to make her laugh again.
"Oh gods, I know you don't get it but that's one of the funniest things I've heard all month, we've gotta talk about that sometime." She calms herself, though her eyes still twinkle as she continues. "Okay, crew. An important relationship, a person, a group of people you can trust. You had crew?"
"I did."
Steele winces. "Oh, I know the name of that game. You don't have to go further, if you don't want to."
"One's dead," you continue relentlessly, not wanting to let the pain or paranoia get too much of a foothold. "Three are still running around. I'm one of them. Haven't heard from another. The last? Well, I don't know if I never want to see them again, or if I want to track them down and wring their neck for what they did. I--" and your courage runs out, and you gasp, strangled, on what wants to come out next, what isn't going to get said, not here and not now. Steele motions like she wants to touch you for a split second, refrains. You can't decide if that relieves or disappoints you.
"I understand, Grail. It's okay. I'm sorry I brought that back."
It's a second before you can respond. "N-no, you were right to ask. You were right to ask. I just can't answer. More than that, anyway. I hope that's enough..."
"Yeah. I know what you mean."
Silence returns, but, after a little while, it's nice. You feel like you broke a barrier, that Steele understands you a little more, and you like that maybe even more than it scares you. At some point, you get ready to ask another question, maybe to ask her to elaborate about friendship, explain why they have it instead of crew, but you're interrupted, by
[ ] the creek widening into a rushing river, suddenly much faster and louder, and there's someone trying and failing to cross it. They're being chased.
[ ] coming upon the aftermath of a battle. There's blood, there's corpses, and there's at least one survivor, though, in that condition, maybe not for long.
[ ] the ground and creek suddenly dropping off into a great big sinkhole right in the middle of the forest floor, roots of the trees poking through its sides all the way down.
[X] coming upon the aftermath of a battle. There's blood, there's corpses, and there's at least one survivor, though, in that condition, maybe not for long.
[x] the creek widening into a rushing river, suddenly much faster and louder, and there's someone trying and failing to cross it. They're being chased.
Doubt it's a survivor from the caravan. But who would chase people through someone else's forest?
Should probably be wary of what it might mean for our standing with Lizardmen.
[X] the ground and creek suddenly dropping off into a great big sinkhole right in the middle of the forest floor, roots of the trees poking through its sides all the way down.
[X] coming upon the aftermath of a battle. There's blood, there's corpses, and there's at least one survivor, though, in that condition, maybe not for long.
Hey, free food. I mean, maybe we can find some loot?
[X] coming upon the aftermath of a battle. There's blood, there's corpses, and there's at least one survivor, though, in that condition, maybe not for long.
