RP: Mocharaos Comes to Mictlan

It's Variday, Khael 05 11:54:52 1018. The full moon is up. The tide is high and ebbing. Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west, along with the wind. The sunlight on the snow is dazzling, and it gleams on the ice.

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         Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a ceremonial pyre. 

         The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. The sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse.

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The sky is fair, and cold. Winter has fully arrived, and light snow dusts the ground and the trees. The many fires of Mictlan burn bright and warm, from the central Fire to the more practical cookfires. Un'eth currently moves away from one of the latter, and towards a conspicuously frost-free mound some distance from the fires (yet well within the grounds). She lacks the bundlings of furs over scales; while resilient, scales do not hold heat especially well.

Mocharaos does not really fear the cold, as the young druid makes her way towards Mictlan. She had been told by others of her kind where to go to find it, as her tribe was not local here. Dressed in leathers, the frost coats the young one as she shoulders on, soon enough coming to the entrance as she looks about to make sure this is where she should be.

With feathers and fur as dazzlingly white as new-fallen snow, a griffon soars into view from the eastward forest bearing a rider in a hunter-green cloak, leather trousers, and a shirt of gleaming rings that sparkle as they catch the sunlight. The griffon and his rider descend between the edge of the forest and the encampments of Mictlan, and come to a graceful landing.

Un'eth's snout lifts to the sky as the darting white draws her eyes. It is when they lower to the other arrival, however, that her head tilts and she rises. Her tail thumps the chill ground firmly. "Peace on your nest. All are welcome in Mictlan, so long as they respect Ea and others."

Mocharaos gives a little nod. "And to your own." she says. She ties her club off to her sash at her hip, while the shield remains in her other hand. The griffon and rider get a simple nod. "Mocharaos. Druid and following of Gilead."

Griffon and rider wend their way toward Un'eth and her fire. Ga'Elian hops off and offers to Un'eth a slight bow with "Peace on your nest, Un'eth." Then at the nod from Mocharaos, "... and on yours. I am Ga'Elian and this is Erithamiel." Then back to Un'eth. I have taken down an elk in the woods by here, and wanted to offer you part of it. It's currently hanging to drain."

Un'eth looks from the Sith-makar to Ga'Elian. "The meat will be welcomed at the fires, Hunter. Prey will soon become scarce." Her attention returns to Mocharaos. "I am Un'eth, Shaman of the Tyrranik tribe, and Warder of Ea. Welcome, Shaman Mocharaos." Her claws gesture to the nearer fire she recently left. "Come. Warm yourselves. Share fire, food, and words."

Mocharaos gives a little nod, seeming to keep away from the fire for the moment as she looks to Un'eth, "Thank you for your kind offerings." she says, "Meat always sounds just fine." as she looks about, sniffing here and there and looking.

Ga'Elian smiles and says, "Good, and thanks, shaman. And, good to meet you, too, Shaman Mocharaos. So, you are not from Mictlan, then? Do you come from Am'shere then?"

"All of The People originate from Am'shere, Hunter," Un'eth advises him. She moves to the fire and settles into a comfortable crouch. A glance to the mound and a caveat follows, "That is, nearly all." She tears a hunk from the side of boar roasting on a stake spit near the fire; one in each hand. Each is offered to each of the visitors.

"You are far from the jungles and tribe," Un'eth concurs, "but you are not far from The People or tradition. Here, amidst the bones of The Great Green, many Sith-makar make their home away from Am'shere. Yet... it is not the jungle. Here, there is winter; a cold winter. It may take time, and furs, but most bear it well enough." A glance to Ga'Elian. "Yet not the best time for words of it," and so she says no more of the jungle.

Ga'Elian accepts the boar meat also and takes a couple eager bites before saying, "Curious, but then Ea is full of diversity." He tosses the remainder of his meat to Erithamiel, who catches it in his mithral-bonded beak and swallows it in no time, returning a deep purr as he wags his tail back and forth.

Mocharaos states simply, "I fear no cold, my children have been taken from me, and I search for them." she gnaws on the meat. "There is no home until I have found them again."

Ga'Elian smirks at the 'fear no cold' comment, but his look turns to genuine alarm at the news of the multiple kidnapping. "How horrible! Have you any leads on recovering them?"

It is then that a silver scaled sith-makar comes through the forest, and while he makes little noise, the forest does seem to part for him, a little. He looks about a bit to see who's there, at least...

Mocharaos shakes her head. "Raid by wizards. I have traveled far, but the leads have gone cold. I have signed up for the adventurers guild to try for more leads." She dosn't notice the silver one, as she says to Ga'Elian, "It is as it is. I won't stop."

"Nor should you." The silver says to the blue as he overhears that last bit. "Anyone taking eggs, let alone yearlings shouldn't be allowed to live." Ironically, there is a three-year hiding behind him. "You are....new from Am'shere?"

Ga'Elian rises and says, "Shaman Durrankar, peace on your nest. Un'eth and I have just been making the acquaintance of Shaman Mocharaos here." Then turning to Mocharaos, he says, "Durrankar and Un'eth have taken each other as cihuaa. (beat) Taken by wizards is bad. Very hard to track."

Un'eth offers no words, but a deep hiss reverberates in her throat. So much so that it seems to reverberate in the ground beneath them. Enough that the trees sway around them.

Erithamiel stops purring and the fur on his tail puffs out in response to Un'eth's deep hiss.

Mocharaos looks up suddenly at the voice. She gives a litle surprised chirp as she takes a step back, looking him over and blushing. She says "Thank you, Shaman Durrankar, peace on your nest." she gives a simple nod and smiles. "May your young grow strong." a slight nod to Ga'Elian, "Hard to track yes, but I worry that my children will never know me. Taken as eggs, all of them."

"Your children will bring back experiences that they would not normally know while within a tribe....and the tribe will be better for it." Durrankar says softly. "Do not lose heart. You shall find them. And they will accept you, or not."

Durrankar also looks over to Un'eth, even after her hiss. "Cihuaa." He doesn't seem that alarmed by her hiss.

Un'eth's hiss fades, as does the rumbling. She takes a slow, deep breath before looking to Mocharaos. "If you wish to share words of the egg-stealers, or desire aid in your search, you need only ask."

Ga'Elian cocks his head at Durrankar. "That's a curious way to see it. But I don't wish to add to Mocharaos's distress by my speculations." Then to Mocharaos, "If I may ask, how long ago were they taken, and where did it happen? There are spells that can help if one knows where to begin."

Mocharaos gives a nod and a little smile, "Thank you for the kind words. My own mate watches over me." as she fingers the vial at her chest. "When I know something specific, I will spread the news. They are living on borrowed time." she says with a soft hiss. "Almost a year ago now. And the village is gone too. It is okay, I am not distressed."

"Sounds like the work of Charn to me. They like to steal eggs." Durrankar says before looking at the three year. "She is not mine, but she is learning to be a shaman herself. This is Matlaihui." He then takes a breath and puffs out a bit of smoke. "Sadly, I'd need something specific before I could try to scry for your yearlings."

Ga'Elian says to Mocharaos, "Well, then I wish you good fortune." To Un'eth and Durrankar he says, "It's about time I get back to that elk I'm preparing. I'll stop back by in a few hours with the meat. For now, farewell." He mounts the griffon and guides it away from the encampments before taking to the freezing air currents again.

Mocharaos gives a nod, looking at the young one and smiling. "May she find her calling true." she gives that warm, motherly smile towards the young one. She gives a wave to Ga'Elian as he leaves, wiggling her fingers for a moment. Back to the others she says "I think I might go and see what berries might be found on the pathways back to the city."