Scene #5728: Journey to Tusk

Owner	Pose
Finna	Somehow or another, Carna and Enark have come across enough information that points them where they need to go. Perhaps they remembered a hint of one of Finna's random spoutings. perhaps they made a good guess and beseeched a watchmate. Perhaps Enark learned to read foreign stars... Whatever the case, the pair of adventurers have learned that Finna hails from a town called Tusk, in the frozen Northern regions of Creation. A place that, if her rants are anything to go by, assuredly belongs to the barbarian tribesmen of the Hastlanti! Tusk, it turns out, has a warp gate. One that the locals are INCREDIBLY edgy about. This becomes immediately apparent the instant when Carna and Enark emerge from the spacewarping fields - the air sizzles, tingles, and zaps them QUITE UNWELCOMINGLY, and the reason for it is immediately evident. Numerous ornaments - such as beads and fangs dangling on strings, intricately carved with old glyphs and the names of various spirits - have been tied around every inch of it. These are clearly wards against demons and the undead. While they're not powerful enough to stop INTELLIGENT dead, it's like walking through a spiderweb of small static shocks. The warp gate emerges onto frozen, snow-covered lands, enclosed on all sides by log walls with spikes carved atop them to dissuade climbers. There's only one way in or out of this 'quarantine zone' which the natives CLEARLY distrust. A narrow path that can admit at best a tiny cart through the walls, which is watched by archers in towers. It's cold as the bottom layer of hell here, and the men in the towers are bundled up in many layers of fur and leathers accordingly. The first to spot visitors below wordlessly bellows his surprise, though instead of drawing a weapon he grasps the tower's railing and leans over for a better look... "Hail, strangers? Ye friends or foes?"
Carna	Enark startles at the shocks when they touch him. "Ow! What in the--" Carna responds less favorably, springing a large blade of solidified blood from a chain wrapped around her left arm and using it as a way of parting or, if necessary, destroying the ornamentation to end the displeasing sensations. When they are addressed, Carna looks up. "I don't know. Have we met before?" she replies. Fair question from her perspective. Enark uses Carna and her sword as a shield from the small shocks and provides a more diplomatic reply. "We are non-hostile unless attacked or threatened first. We have come seeking something to help a friend who originally hailed from here. Can we speak somewhere perhaps less..." He gestures around vaguely, careful not to bumble into any more baubles. "...Less?"
Finna	The lookout pales when he sees that one of the strangers has turned to hacking at the protective wards! His face pales - a fact that's barely visible under all of the covering furs! His partner in the other tower looks visibly shaken by this. The one who's remained silent glances at his fellow... and is answered by some swift gesturing. Whatever that meant, the silent man dismounts the tower and scurries off somewhere. This just leaves the man who originally addressed the pair! "Non-hostile, but no fan of our wards!" Scoffs the man distrustingly. But since Enark's tried the diplomatic approach, his hand remains away from his bowstring. "The dead aren't welcome in these lands. Or demons. Or... hold on a moment..." He takes another good look. Blinks a few times. And rubs his eyes. "Aw crap... they don't look like either!" He's just only NOW noticing that? "Well... fine. If you're here t'talk, come on through the gate. But you'll regret any funny business here. We don't like that gate. Half the people who come through are just trouble. I'm Noon Bellow, and you're in Laughing Winds territory! What brings you here?" The man HOPS down the tower as if this feat shouldn't break any bones and down to unlock the (rather flimsy-looking) wooden gate that leads into the camp proper... Of course the moment Carna and Enark are through, they'll notice that this is a VERY SIZABLE town. The height of piled-up snow makes it hard to tell, but the thoroughfares and tunnels plowed through the 15-feet high snowbanks show dozens and dozens of longhouses down the main thoroughfare. In the far distance, there's a great wall of more carved logs. This is NOT AT ALL what one probably expects when they hear the words 'barbarians.' The city - for that is what it truly is - is bustling with bundled up people plying their trades. Everything from meat smokehouses woodchoppers and animal butchery. The people of this region are built stoutly and sturdily, most of them with blonde or black hair and very fair skin. In this cold weather though, only their faces are exposed. It's a stark contrast from how Finna's usually dressed, but the nationality's unmistakable.
Carna	"Haha. Haaa. Yes, I completely agree. There is nothing about us that would make one think we are demons or anything of that sort. They are actually considered very dangerous and wicked creatures where we hail from. I would not dabble in that nonsense for anything." Enark replies. As the gate is opened up so that they can leave, he says, "I apologize for your ornamentation. My companion is prone to reacting first and thinking later when it comes to sudden surprises and unfamiliar objects being thrust into her face." Carna just says simply, "Yes." When they exit the enclosure and look around at everything, she cuts to the chase. "A companion by the name of Finna has been imprisoned in a sort of spirit world. To save her, we need something of personal value or long-term exposure that we can use to draw her out of her prison. Can you direct us to her former lodgings or one who might know of her if you do not?" Enark sighs. "I had hoped to first ask to be directed to a leadership figure or records keeper who could aid us, but yes, that is why we are here. We will endevaour not to be akin to the trouble causers that you are so wary of."
Finna	At the talk of all of this weird supernatural stuff, and it being the first thing out of Carna's mouth, Noon Bellow's face grows a bit disgusted. "Ugh. SPIRIT STUFF! I'll take you to the new shamaness. At the godhouse. Don't know any Finna though. She of the Laughing Winds tribe? One of the others, maybe? Name doesn't sound right for our people." Noon Bellow is a loud, grouchy man, but he thankfully isn't trigger happy. Or bowstring, as the case may be. He gestures for the two to follow while keeping a close eye on them. "You two from one of the Worlds Beyond? How'd one of ours get mixed up with you?" The trek to the God-House takes a few minutes, and all the while Carna and Enark may notice they're being tailed by a group of five armed men who are doing their best to keep a decent distance as they tromp through the town. The God-House, as it was called, is easily one of the most elaborate structures in Tusk. The path to it is decorated with enormous ivory tusks taken from what are probably Wooly Mammoths. It is a lavish wooden building with a grand outer porch shielded from the snow. The pair are lead past it to an inner porch that's warmer. the door that leads inward is surrounded by a trio of three symbols on the walls. A spear that ends in an icicle. A tuft of fur, a crow's feather... many such things. Three groups of three. Noon Bellow knocks on the final door after Enark and Carna have been given an opportunity to make themselves... presentable, as they see fit... and a young woman's voice answers with, "yes?" "Visitors! Weird ones." And Noon Bellow isn't about to wait too long before he nervously grabs the doors and pushes them open as if hoping whatever's inside will be protection against Carna and Enark. He might not be wrong about that, though the sight that awaits them is enough to leave him gaping rudely. Much to the almost SCORNFUL, critical glare of a young woman who immediately stands out in the grand inner chambers, where cracks a merry hearth and several altars and many portraits of what might be different gods and heroes. All manner of trinkets lie scattered around the room's edge... But this woman in the middle, wearing long flowing robes of thin, highly decorated leathers, with fair skin, brown eyes, and raven black hair, standing with a natural dignity and poise that bespeaks much experience dealing with people and making decisions, has fixed the trio of newcomers with an imperious glare almost immediately. Carna, in particular, might feel as if those earthen eyes are boring into her soul and laying it bare. "Did you /have/ to bring the abomination straight to the inner sanctum of the God-House?" She exclaims irritably at Noon Bellow. It might take a moment to notice it, but NEXT to her is... a HIGHLY UNUSUAL old man. He is dressed in similar tribal leathers. A grand, orderly set of blue robes... but his floor-length beard is made of hundreds of icicles. His hair is white and snow accompanies his exhales. His covering cloak is comprised of what look to be tiny steel snowflakes. The visitors might notice that he shares a visage with one of the portraits on the wall. "Were our preparations to guard that gateway insufficient?" He muses aloud, stroking a hand through his icicle beard. Only MILDLY concerned with the intrusion.
Carna	Enark nods in agreement, offering a long-suffering sigh. "Agreed. Everything used to be so much simpler. She became entangled in our affairs through a prophecy. Equally burdensome. Thank you for escorting us." Carna certainly notices they are being followed at least, but she's keen to that sort of thing, whereas Enark takes Moon Bellow at face value that they are being treated as non-hostile visitors, and spends time looking over the wares on display, and the various fashions. That scholarly curiosity at work. He likewise takes the time to study the God-House, both from without and within. His honest interest in another culture is somewhat blunted by the woman who objects so strongly to their presence. Or at least Carna's. "Ah, my apologies. Perhaps Lady Carna can wait out--" Carna interrupts to say, "No. Your protection is my responsibility. We are in foreign territory, and I will remain at your side." She seems unimpressed by the woman's attitude, or at least not at all enthused about it, but is the first push through into the innter sanctum. She keeps her distance, at least. "Your wards were irritating. Nothing more. Your efforts were not useless, but be glad that we are peaceful visitors. Someone malicious would not have been stopped." Enark sighs and steps inside as well. "I apologize. We can come back later, at least, or meet somewhere else if you wish. Or with a different representative." He takes a mental stab at the man being some sort of Father Winter figure. He squints somewhat at the woman's features, noting similarities with Finna's. All that tells him is this might be the right place, however.
Finna	The young woman - who, in closer examination, has a face that is nagglingly familiar to someone else they know... a familial resemblance, perhaps? - still appears to be scowling a little even as she absorbs this information. A few seconds pass. The young woman and the old man exchange a thoughtful glance... And then the young woman takes a graceful, almost regal step forward. Smooth and certain. "I would rather if you didn't. They might not be as... accomodating on such short notice. If you truly come in peace, then you have my apologies for the brisk welcome you likely received." She shoots a veiled glare over at Noon Bellow in a case of damned if you do, damned if you don't... But the gaze is swiftly turned back on Enark. She seems... uncomfortable staring at Carna for long. "You both reek of the grave." One worse than the other. "But it is the nemissaries and Tear Eaters we hope to shut out from our lands. We did not anticipate that... any respectable dead would use the gate." She purses her lips briefly, and tugs on her clothing nervously... then chooses to speak further. "My name is Merry Breeze. Shaman apprentice--" At that word, the old man CLEARS HIS THROAT meaningfully... And the young woman corrects herself. ".... Shamaness of the Haslanti people." And then, the old man finally speaks in the voice of a blizzard-to-come, scattering short-lived snowflakes through the room, "You may call me Master Winter." And he doesn't seem too incentivized to speak further quite yet. Instead, Merry Breeze speaks up, whilst sweeping a hand out more welcomingly. "Please, tell us why you have come. Before there are any further misunderstandings."
Carna	Oh, good! Someone has asked Enark to explain things! That is one of his favorite hobbies! He does note the supernatural nature of the man, but the nuances of local mythological figures is somewhat lost upon him. "An honor to meet you both. Well, you see, my name is Enark, of the Blue Scholars. This is Lady Carna. We come from a world where the living world has already ended, so being dead is 'normal'. Unfortunately, there was a sort of second end-of-the-world within the afterlife, and creatures called Unlit appeared that consumed many of us, making the 'native' dead an endangered species, so to speak. Some of these Unlit--" Carna interrupts to say, "A woman by the name of Finna hails from here originally, she became embroiled in our affairs, and now she is trapped in a spirit prison. We wish to save her and something she personally values is required to help her find her way home. She is something of an archer, I am told, and apparently can turn into various beasts. She has presently had her identity erased. This 'anchor' will help her remember." Enark huffs. "I was going to get to that eventually." Carna says simply, "Every moment wasted is another she is not with us. We do not have hours for you to regail them with the history of the afterlife."
Finna	Master Winter's expression turns icy - icier than usual that is - at the idea of a land where the living world has ceased to be... as does Merry Breeze. But the latter is quicker to recover and listen. Listen VERY critically, it would seem, because she exclaims with resounding authority, "Your words ring true." And these of hers echo through the room, leaving both her and Master Winter staring in a not-insignificant bit of perplexion. Merry Breeze cants her head ever so slightly. One has to wonder - how is she so certain that such a crazy tale is The Truth? But, whatever the case, she IS, and she's quick to press for more information. "You say she changes into beasts... then the name you know may not be her birth name. For the only shapeshifters my people know of are those blessed by the Silver Lady. Luna's divine Chosen. It is their way to take a new name, for in the Second Breath they are born anew." Though these worsd are delivered smoothly enough, there's a hint of uncertainty in the young woman's manner. "If one of Luna's Chosen is endangered, I have a responsibility to Creation to see them released and returned to their sacred duties!" .... Sacred duties. FINNA? Suuuuuuuuuuuuuure, Sacred Duties... "Anything you have that could identify them would help... a portrait, might. Given they're shapeshifters, perhaps not. Personality. Spirit form? Deeds they've boasted of? Anything we can use to narrow it down? Failing that, the next step would be to seek out the Twisted Stone Conclave. The Lunars who associate with honored Gerd Marrow-Eater."
Carna	Enark pulls out a notebook and responds with, "Yes! Lunars! That was it! She spoke of Luna frequently. Actually, I suspect there may be a familial connection with you of some sort. You look very similar. I do have some photographs on-hand, since I foresaw the possibility of having to show them to people. But, as you say, being a shapeshifter as she is, I can not guarantee any of them are her actual original appearance. She did take one during a battle that I believe may have been her original one, however, and that is what I have here." He withdraws digitally-printed photos of Finna from when she had transformed back into her 'mortal' self during the battle with the Throne of the Crimson King. She is a bit blood stained because they were literally fighting in a room gradually filling with blood, and she might be a bit haggard from the fear effect she was being exposed to, but her features are otherwise plainly visible, and the attire and bow used then as well. "Thank you in advance for your assistance. I was terrified at first when intruders encroached upon the tower I had been guarding for so long. It is not easy to welcome strangers, especially when so many are... Misbehaved." He also assumes that part of being a shamaness is having divination powers, so does not question the sooth-sayer pronouncement. Or maybe she read their auras to discern their emotions. Either way, knowing she can trust their word is good enough for Enark. Carna remains silent, aware she discomfits the others more than the scholar, and choosing not to draw more attention to herself than necessary as a result.
Finna	"F-familial?!" That kind of thing isn't said lightly, it seems. Because just that one word reduced Merry Breeze to an undignified splutter. As if she could be related to one of Luna's Chosen?! Nevertheless she waits with baited breath through the rest of Enark's long-winded explanation, her face a wreck of anxious uncertainty and eagerness. Briefly, Master Winter, who's remained quiet through this, stiffens his lips as if somehow, perhaps, bothered by this news? The sheer QUALITY of the photo that's presented at first flabbergasts the young woman, who gasps... and then HURRIES across the room to stare in for a closer look. "It couldn't be... she's all bloody, but... what kind of heavenly prank is this?! I thought she had been..." About this time, Master Winter's sweating bullets. Except since he's freezing cold, it's more that his face is randomly sprouting tiny ice crystals stuck on his forehead. And the reason why is immediately obvious. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME! Wretched old geezer! IS THIS WHY YOU TOLD ME YOU DID NOT KNOW HER WHEREABOUTS?!" Comitting what could very likely be some sort of horrific blasphemy, Merry Breeze rushes over, grabs Master Winter by his shoulders and starts angrily shaking him in comical protest! The God of Winter Preparation, strangely enough, DOES NOT get infuriated by this. Instead he starts whambling apologetically - and quite unintelligibly through all the shaking! This stunt doesn't last long though. She quickly glares daggers at him, almost sharper than his icicle beard. He steps back a few feet, clearly rattled by this experience. But... not as offended as a God probably would be. Were he handled so by most people. Indeed, he seems positively torn, grimacing regretfully as his eyes swerve back and forth from the two dead to the angry young woman. "... Explain." She indignantly burbles at him, arms folded childishly. So much for that dignified poise of earlier. Master Winter tentatively clears his throat, and decides to address all three in the room. "Her name... her Haslanti name... is Jubilant Gale. Scholar of worlds beyond, you are correct. They are family. Sisters, in fact. Though," He turns somewhat apologetically towards Merry Breeze. "I spoke no lie, Lawgiver of the Most High. Her whereabouts WERE unknown. Even a god's eyes cannot pierce into the Wyld where the Lunars shelter. When it happened, YOU were quite busy with your own crisis... were you not?" "I... suppose so. But then, after I returned..." Merry Breeze is STILL being critical of the God! He stiffens his beard and purses his lips, answering simply, "It had slipped my mind amidst the seasonal accounting of snowfall over the northern ten feet of the forest outside Tusk..." Merry Breeze groans, clapping a palm to her forehead... then double takes on Enark, totally dropping the entire 'the dead give me creepy vibes' issue Carna's giving off. Her hands are quickly on the scholar's shoulders! "You know where my sister is?!"
Carna	"I certainly hope I have not caused some sort of problem." Enark tries to offer apologetically upon witnessing the radical shift in attitude and the conflict between shamaness and god. "The picture was taken in the midst of combat. She was quite well and recovered the last I saw her." When she comes forth and grips his shoulders, asking if Enark knows where 'Jubilant Gale' is, Carna intercedes. "Yes, she is in a spirit prison, in the world we hail from. That is why we are here. We are trying to rescue her." she reminds them a bit testily. Someone finding out they have family they didn't know about, or that said family is alive when they thought otherwise, is nice and all, but happy relevations can wait until AFTER they have saved Finna. "As was explained, something of personal value or long-term exposure is required. It can be an object, something from a place, or even a person or animal. If there is anything of that nature, we can use it to rescue her. Do you know of anything like that?" She is sticking to the mission objective, at the very least.
Finna	With Carna speaking to her quite suddenly, the shamaness backs away by SEVERAL BIG STEPS. Merry Breeze's expression shifts swiftly as she ponders how to respond to Carna. Whose presence she may be re-evaluating. But, who clearly does not realize what sisters are. Yeah, her face is just like a traffic light gone haywire! It finally settles on a forced, pleased expression that's clearly BURYING all the anxiety in sweet pleasantries! "Well! In that case, Master Winter, we shall have to put off the plan! We'll need the warp gate after all! I'm going to rescue my sister!"
Carna	"I would advise making any preparations you need to." Enark suggests. "We intend to force our way into the prison tomorrow. You have time to be certain you are ready. He says heavily, "I do not wish to lose anyone else, nor do I wish anyone to lose those they care about either. We have a plan... Now we just need to follow-through on it." Carna still has a lot of trouble empathizing. That much hasn't changed. But she is willing to learn. So she observes both the enthusiasm of the shaman, and the way Enark shows his own caring. And she takes out a fresh journal, begun only last month, and writes them down.