Anarion

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

“Hi! Peri! Slow down, you know we can’t all be savants. Which soldier do you mean? Give me a name if it’s safe.”

Giriel tried not to sigh as they were walking. For one thing, a big sigh meant inhaling a lot of dust from all the raiders on dry mountain roads. The lowlands had a recent storm, but it hadn’t made it up this far, not yet at least. So, the tension in the air wasn’t just from Uusha, but spoke of thunderstorms to come sometime soon. They’d be welcome when they came, a reminder that the fury of the heavens was beyond all these petty squabbles and even the dead paid due respect to such things.

Dealing with Peregrine was a challenge though. She had eaten her soup at least. She hadn’t noticed who it had come from, of course, or where, but it was right there next to her and other people were eating and that had been enough to get her body going through the motions from muscle memory even if her mind had been elsewhere. It was a blessing that she had said hello at last, and now she’d launched into theory. And while Giriel might be able to understand it, she knew that she couldn’t try to do it at Peregrine’s speed. Plus, one did have to say the safety things very carefully. For all Giriel knew, “that soldier” was a euphemism for some high ranking demon and Peregrine would just drop the name in the middle of a field like it was nothing. Probably not, but one did have to be careful.

Really, Peregrine and Uusha made the perfect pair. Frustratingly so. A better knight would not have put Peregrine up to such blighted work no matter how good her theories. And a better witch would have talked some sense into Uusha in the first place before she’d gotten all this momentum and convinced herself she was acting for everybody’s good by disturbing their ancestors to engage in mass murder.

“And Peri” she added, before the other witch could launch into a second run of theory, “why are you raising the dead for this? I heard about signs of demons near here on my way up. If you’ve got a good theory to test with your music, turn your magic on them and help everyone, not on young soldiers trying to make a living.”

Sunshards

Princess Chen is enraptured. There is no other word for it. Jessic has shown her something beautiful. And not just beautiful, but focused, niche, special. That people had these stories in their hearts, such specific people doing such absurd and specific things. Of course, she had known, that was after all how so many different princesses had their sunshards. But, she had understood this sort of vision only with her mind, not with her heart. Honestly, she hadn’t even really understood with her mind. When your main points of personal experience were Qiu, Yin, and your parents training you, it didn’t exactly make the idea of this kind of story enticing.

Imagine, if you will, growing up and thinking to yourself, in a world full of magic, “my job is to keep everything just as it is” and practicing with the sword for such a purpose. There is still wonder, so many things to discover, but there is no drive there, only a sort of fear and a forgetfulness of the self.

So Chen is enraptured. She can’t tear herself away from these stories that match the ideas budding in her heart. But even as they end, she finds her mind carrying them on. She finds herself daydreaming during breaks, imagining during meals, and dreaming to herself of fantasies at night. She dreams not of the sort of force that Yin creates, or even the wild and free plains that Jezara has worked, but of something different, of cities filled with people who can change their shape at will, of sword flying with little wind leopards and being carried about by a Rose in full throated joy of herself, and a place where everyone can have a companion of any sort they wish.

It is not that she has convinced anyone of her vision yet, or suddenly escaped the dreams of every other person in her life. But as days pass, there is a new sort of conviction forming about what Chen wants in the world, one that might carry her against the pressures she faces. An underlying dream that suffuses her as she blinks in the sunlight of the sky castle, dazed and happy in a way she had quite nearly forgotten she could feel.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giriel meets Uusha’s gaze. Kayl running off hot with pride was the best she could hope for, and now Uusha is her attention. Fight a knight? Was that really the only thing open to her? She had promised Agata to return when she had resolved things here. She didn’t think that fighting Uusha, running her off, would change her mind. Giriel didn’t think the Red Wolf thought that either, otherwise she’d have gone herself, a hero of the Dominion. One did not hire a witch to go smashing about with swords, even as a backup plan (barring certain very specific demons), and whether Red Wolf had any inkling of Uusha being here, the response to the N’yari would have been much the same.

No, one hired a witch to talk and set things to right, or perhaps to set things wrong as Peregrine was doing for the sake of experimenting with her Art. And that meant that things might just take a little more time. Time enough to change a mind perhaps. Magic was, after all, about Will. You didn’t practice if you didn’t have that basic sense of self.

So Giriel stared at Uusha, the stag knight, and slowly shook her head such as the knight’s gauntlet would allow. “I will come with you, but I won’t help you rouse the dead. You’re making a mistake and I’ll stay with you long enough to help you see it.”

Dark Age (playtest): The Lands of Pendragon

Robena, Constance

It is as Constance dictates. Indeed, the very Winter sun seems to be on her side. The trail is slow going back, deer being a much greater load on squires and horses alike than fox, and the sun takes its opportunity to hide below the horizon before your return. Sir Liana absently plucks her harp, wordless low notes hanging in the autumn air. She is tired and more than a little hoarse. Singing upon a hunt is an experience of air rushing into the throat at speed and the dry winter was already inhospitable to a long ballad without such circumstances. Her gaze is still to you, though she is discreet and has learned in her day with you to leave you to your thoughts.

It is thus that you part at the stables and find yourself, Robena, alone. Alone with your thoughts and your footfalls echoing off the stone of a dark courtyard. A distant lantern sputters weakly, marking the entryway where you ought to head. The fountain runs with chill water. It ought to be frozen, but it has been thawed by servants in your absence and, while running, escapes the chill creeping upon it for the moment. It trickles gently to accompany your footfalls and the sound directs your eye, at last, to the outline of a woman before you, standing before the fountain, arrayed in a long dress outlining her silhouette. She holds herself in the size and style of Constance, though you cannot make out her face as yet.

Constance, you hear Robena before you see her and then see her, tired after a long day, making her slow way towards the lantern upon the castle.

Speak first, whoever is so bold!

Tristan
Your dinner task is assigned to you and none begrudge you the duty. But before that, there is a moment where Constance has arranged her meeting, alone by the fountain. None else are welcome there, for that one place is set for her and for Robena. For you, the trouble is a contrary one. Until you turn to serve Constance, you could be anywhere, doing quite nearly anything you please so long as it is neither too bright nor too noisy. Sir Liana is just returned, tired, quiet, and saddlesore. Lady Sauvage too has returned, though she says not a word and made herself barely known at the back of the hunting party, for the hart was not hers to approach. Sir Hector is tired in her own way, but took the courtesy to bathe and dress in long wools rather than her armor after her routine in the courtyard and is therefore not entirely unapproachable. And Sir Harold is directing the servants to prepare the newly arrived deer for dinner.

Sunshards

Someday, someone might ask you what dreams are woven out of. Here's what you tell them. For your thread, you need inspiration spun all round and about until its smooth and free of knots. For the loom, you carve from joy and lay the thread upon it. And for the needle, you take just a little bit of talent and natural inclination and you hammer them to a point, sharp as a sunbeam.

Chen has them all in spades. Where she stumbled on explaining herself and her struggles and all this pressure, and lost her words entirely when Rose picked her up in a squeaking mess, Jessic might be surprised to have said all that once and quickly and see Chen nodding and repeating it: "broken wheel of reincarnation, destroyed the king of darkness, fortune tellers reading people's fates between enlightenment and demonhood, got it, got it." And then it comes on and she's enraptured.

She leans and rolls with Ydian's fights, one arm matching the swordwork. She squeaks and blushes and throws up her hands when Ydian finds herself compromised by her arch nemesis and probably maybe girlfriend Zeryn, she grabs the nearest couch cushion to hug when Ydian has to consult her grandmother's ghost for advice on the dregs of the king of darkness, and she cheers when the hero triumphs at the end through pluck, hope, and the love of her friends.

Halfway through the second episode, she finds herself unconsciously leaning on Jessic for support as Ydian despairs at ever escaping Zeryn's clutches for a second time as the clock ticks down on the theft of a magic crystal depowering her home town. And when Ydian has to disguise herself as one of Zeryn's veiled handmaidens to escape, she blushes and hides her face in Jessic's scales and keeps watching by glancing through her arm.

And when they're done with this bit and Jessic calls for a break, Chen looks up at her with eyes big as saucers and asks "do you have one where the hero is a leopard princess? Or a cat maybe? Or a wolf even?"

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

This is heartbreaking. It would surely have been better if the young and fearless shepherd had been a demon in disguise, or some spirit tasked with leading her to Uusha, or a sympathetic local god. Instead she got a brave fool who's bravery went as far as ghosts but not so far as angry knights. Well, that was smart of him, angry knights were far more dangerous than ghosts and far less predictable.

Though Giriel's face is held, her cheeks pressed inward by the careful but firm metal gauntlet, she gestures to Kayl with a dismissive wave of the hand. It says you may go and also your duty is done, and a little bit of you don't matter, shoo because the color drained of his face says that a little anger and indignation would do him good and he would be better off for withdrawing with his dignity than with his tail between his legs. A youth of his bravery doesn't deserve to be crushed by Uusha, even in passing.

So go, get out, leave her be, she needs no more guide. As for this, this is fine. Giriel's eyes are looking up at Uusha's, looking at her stag helm, at the weight of her symbolism and the burden she bears. That she sees herself, alone, as responsible for the salvation of kingdoms and it weighs on her as though the whole heavens press on her shoulders. It's enough to break a heart, all these people hurting. Enough that it brings a tear to Giriel's eye, though Uusha could be mistaken for thinking the pain she's causing is physical as Giriel shudders.

Sunshards

Chen blinked. For a moment she was just stunned. Ani-meh? She thought she'd heard of it, had Qiu referenced it maybe? Or Ysel at some point? Hestia didn't really like all the tech that much and Chen's childhood had been relatively austere in that regard. That's why she found painting the glowing towers and such so interesting, and a bit why Kikil was so intimidating. But, uh, she hadn't even considered that there'd be some sort of burrower magic that would help with her moms. Was it dangerous? Oh gosh, it was probably dangerous or she'd have heard of it!

B-but there was a dragon claw extended right there, and the voice in her head had been excited, welcoming. She needed to trust Jessic right now. She had to it just, if she couldn't then she was right back to all that trouble and pressure and and...she just needed to trust one of the princesses. Especially one who was trying to help her, who Qiu had sounded really sincere about saying she could help. And besides she'd been right so far, Chen did need to make better friends with the others and...and learn to play in their worlds so she could make her own.

So...so even though this was a total swerve from where her mind was and she was a bit bewildered, Chen took that claw and let Jessic help her to her feet. And she held on to that claw because...because right now she just needed to be led and to take in a little bit more and let this happen and she was confident that her thoughts would eventually catch up with her, but they weren't there yet.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Of course she's right that Giriel means to placate them! The dead deserve their rest. They deserve to be treated kindly. Do you think it a coincidence that the rituals to honor them also placate them? It is not by chance that the honored dead do not rise to inflict terror upon the living any more than it is by chance that a traveler greeted with a hot meal is likely to welcome it.

Giriel gives Uusha a look that is a little sad, a little wistful. It's not that she's wrong exactly. Red Wolf was powerful, dangerous, heroic, tempting. The thought brought the slightest blush to Giri's cheeks, but she remained steadfast. Defending the kingdoms didn't mean desecrating them! At least not for this sort of threat. It would be another thing if a gang of demons burst out of the forest and the dead were all you had to hand, or perhaps if some fool got it into their head to play at being a warlord with some dark artifact and the dead were needed to combat them. The point is, it's not that the idea is stupid, but the dead deserve more respect than this and raising them to attack regular soldiers who had no say in their position because of the grand games of politics wasn't the right thing to be doing.

Of course Peregrine wouldn't even worry about that point of ethics. For her, this was a proof of concept. If the dead could be summoned and directed effectively, that meant that witches had more tools in the world. Giriel was sure that Peregrine would point out that resentful energy was just as good a form of energy as any other type and the only thing preventing people from using it were old traditions, and that Peregrine could perfectly well tap this sort of thing without being corrupted or what have you. She might even be right (though one did have to be careful that the "darker" sort of magic didn't affect one's personality, demons in particular were known for trading in the abstract and that might include some modifications to your common sense or personal restraint).

Peregrine was a conversation to come though. For now, Giriel needed to serve soup and Uusha was the problem with that. She ought to know better, but it was clear the knight was desperate. Giriel let out a sigh. Peregrine may not think much of the traditions, but they did matter. Witches, or anyone who practiced proper magic, had the right to make offerings to the dead, it was part of the station, the title, along with similar rights for certain spiritual problems and entreating with gods. It came with a compact that practicing the Art would be used for good, not to cause terror and darkness but on behalf of a community to honor their ancestors, and bound Giriel to adherence to the traditions. Bringing it up now might set her at odds with Peregrine, and Uusha wouldn't take kindly to being forced, but...she couldn't just do nothing, not when she'd just gotten here. She needed time to talk with them.

Giriel ladles out her soup and stands, not breaking her stare with Uusha as she moves to set the bowl before the exit to the cemetery. "I have the right to do this" she said, walking past Uusha. "We swore that compact before the Sapphire Mother and all the little gods of the earth generations ago, before one of the great heralds of Heaven as witness." So she set out the food as her offering, and only then ladled a bowl for Uusha, and one for Peregrine, and for anyone else who asked until her pot ran down to the base.

[This post spent the second question on how to get Uusha to allow her to make her offering to the dead and placate them.]

Dark Age (playtest): The Lands of Pendragon

Robena

Do you see it? The moment when you strike the hart and it looks at you and accepts the blow? Your strike is clean, and your subsequent work to prepare the return admirable. There are, as ever, loyal dogs who bounce to your side, and nods from the master of the hunt who now quite clearly respects you. You demonstrate your skill, your experience, your talent for things big and small as no part of the deer goes to waste and the castle will eat well this eve.

The land around you is more alive than you remember as you go about your work. A few birds, those that do not fly for the winter, are up and about and make some noise. A snow rabbit hops by at a distance, wary of provoking the dogs, but curious despite herself. A little snow melts in the lazy afternoon and the nearby stream stirs with the noise of movement.

All Britain ever asked of you was to be a knight, Robena. Nothing more and, crucially, nothing less. Today, you lived up to the hunt, through your pain and the blackness that hung on your mind. Your reward is that Liana gazes on you with admiration. Why it might even be that she wants to be like you when she's older. Or at least like the you she saw today, the knight who hunted the hart.

What is it like, to be the subject of admiration as you make your return journey?

Constance, Tristan

The day is waning and Robena will be back soon. And now you see the true reason why the castellan of the house kept you company. "Unless much has gone poorly, I suspect the ladies will be returning today with venison" Sir Harold says as you finish arranging the many folds of your dress. "Would you or your men care to arrange the evening's festivities? I can have the castle's servants at your beck and call. Do not think any sort of pageantry beyond us. How would you receive your returning knight?"

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

“I come…” says Giriel, using the arm that was just a moment before patting Kayl to pull him backwards, dragging his knees along the ground so that he’s not in Uusha’s way “…to make soup.”

What else was there to do, hm? Peregrine was going to be starving when she was done, and there was no point interrupting her in a ritual like this. Best odds of that were something going horrifically wrong, and even if that were avoided, Peregrine would be livid. And what’s the point, from what Red Wolf said, the shades were already happening. Plus, Uusha was here and that meant there was a lot more happening than Giriel had known coming into this. Better to see the ritual, serve everyone a good meal, and then figure things out from there.

“Well, to make soup and to talk. I won’t hide that Red Wolf sent me, but I want to know why you’re doing all this before I decide what sort of magic to work.” As she speaks, she walks past Uusha and sets up at a nice spot under the shade of a tree with a wide gravestone that has a flat top where Giriel can put her things. She sets some stones (regular ones, not gravestones) in a circle for a fire and gatherers a few loose branches fallen from the tree and strikes a spark while she sets out her bowls and some travel things. The townsfolk may have been less than forthcoming when it came to these graves and whatever this ritual was, but they were still willing to sell a sack of potatoes and a bundle of carrots. Good, hearty, travel food. Add some water, some salt, a little sage, and boil them slowly so they softened and flavored the broth.

And, if it happened that Giriel had set herself up so that the wind would blow the scent of her cooking toward Peregrine and most of the gathered N’yari while she spoke with Uusha, that was a coincidence. And, if it happened that Giriel had a clear view line towards Peregrine’s music…well, that was just the layout of the cemetery. And if it happened that Giriel made a point of offering a bowl of soup to the spirits of the dead before serving the living, well, that was just polite.

[Giriel is looking to figure out Uusha (and the overall situation) from chatting while she cooks and observing what’s happening here. 4+4+2=10. Giriel gets two questions
1. What does Uusha hope to get from this ritual?
Reserving the second.]