Blue Scar the Centaur
Aja approaches the hulking centaur hesitantly, struggling to remember the customary greeting given to and by the centaurs that inhabit the Quirk Woods where she grew up. He is considerably taller than she, towering over her by at least two feet. She thinks she knows how Gigi must feel when next to Tars. She dips to one knee briefly, crossing one arm across her chest in what she hopes is recognizable as a greeting of respect.
"Blessed be, great centaur. Where grazes your harem?”, Aja asks.
Blue Scar is a tall imposing centaur. With a solid dark bay body, his short cut hair on his head and his beard are the same matching color. He speaks with a deep booming voice, a boisterous voice carrying several conversations over. As Aja approaches, she sees some blushing young elven youths running off in the opposite direction who had been speaking with him. As Aja introduces herself, he takes a second to look at her as his eyes focus. He is obviously having a good time and a little tipsy. His round face appears to the type of face which has a permanent smile attached to it.
“Greetings. An airling, if I am not mistaken, correct? I would be Blue Scar.” He points toward his left flank where a three-foot scar starts from his mid-flank all the way back to his tail. “I was deep in the jungle when I ran afoul of a sword tail marsupial. Nasty things, but good eating. Sliced me open something fierce. Epic battle, lasted a full sunset I say. I would have perished, except the only clotting agent around were some little blue agperis berries. As you can see, the berries were still quite unripe as they caused blue scarring. How can you tell? Easy, when they still have a white dot at the center, they are not ripe. And I was in a hurry cause after all that work, I was not going to let the marsupial go to waste. Cook him fast I must.” He chuckles, amused at himself, and notices Aja looking at the departing youths. He laughs again. “Silly girls. As promiscuous as all these elves are, they are still quite prudish on the topic of clothing. All I said was – Hey, my eyes are up here.” Aja is getting a little wary that this centaur might be your typical drunken braggart. She supposes that lack of a tavern doesn’t create a lack of the boorish type.
“You ask of my harem? That is rich. I wish! My wife would skin me alive and keep my hooves as teacups if that were so. I do tease her, I really do. She gets so incensed. I think I love her for her anger as much as anything.” When he says that, you do recall that centaurs are extremely monogamous, mating for life, and often times when one spouse dies, the other isn’t far behind.
Aja is thrown off balance by how different this centaur is from the gravely serious horse-men she knew growing up. Ordinarily, she would be very interested in further study of the scar that has granted him his nickname. She is, at the least, impressed by his seeming knowledge of herbalism, although given the bravado currently on display, half-suspects his understanding of the risks of using under ripe agperis berries was only acquired after the fact. She decides not to pursue this line of questioning, certain it will result in a raucous joke at her expense. Instead, she makes a concerted effort to change to a less formal tone and asks, “The horse-men of the Quirk Woods are known for their ability to read the paths traced by our many moons. Is the same true of your people and, if so, what do they foretell of this Harbinger?”
Seemingly distracted, he keeps glancing at the table. He mutters something and approaches the table to get a freshly cooked monkey leg which is still dripping grease and the berry glaze marinade it was cooked in. He then turns back to Aja, considerably more serious now while taking big bites out of the skinny leg. “Did I hear you correctly, did you mention another herd? Wow, if only that is true. I only know of our four herds, how splendid if there is another. We roam these jungles far and wide, though we never make it north of the river. Would these woods you mention be up that way? Please please, tell me more. Once we get done with this dreaded business of discussing the Harbinger, I think I will convince my dam (you two-legged folk would call her a wife, but she is so much more than just a wife) that the herd needs to visit this new herd. Will you talk to her? My older brother, our historian, claims we actually came from north of the river generations ago, back when we were a single herd. We could use some new blood, and my two youngest, a splendidly smart colt and a rather high spirited filly, are both nearing mating age. I would much rather pair them with some new blood rather than those soon to be nags they’ve been hanging around with.”
He takes a few more bites and finishes the leg. Looking around he finds a local pet fox and tosses the bone in his direction. Aja and Blue Scar share a little more small talk when she finally steers him back to her questions about tracking the moons. She did have to go and refill his drink once, but it did spur him on a little bit more. “Well, I don’t. I can barely see the moons through all these dang trees, however, my brother – I think I just mentioned him. He does – he knows all the elf tribes and frequently journeys up into their trees just to observe the moons. He’s kind of not smart you see, a sensible equine stays flat on the ground. Right like me. Never fallen a day in my life.”
“Where’s is he at? I think he is with my dam right now conversing with those red lizards. Nasty things – green lizards. Then they go and make them red, and larger to hoof? Uck. Almost as bad as this harbinger business everyone keeps talking about. You’d think we were all going to die tomorrow yet no one seems to know a thing. Between you and me – do you know anyone actually killed by the harbinger? No? Bed time stories. Likely just some band of feral apes or something going around slaughtering a few smaller villages, you ask me.”
"I would be honored to meet your dam and brother... Even if he lacks your wisdom," Aja says, concealing a bemused smile behind a monkey leg of her own. "If you will introduce me, I would be happy to tell you all what I know of the Camonali herd of the Quirk Wood."
That I will, That I will. " booms Blue Scar. "My dam said she would have to miss tonight's festivities, but she would definitely make it tomorrow. She is such a serious soul, hard to get her to relax and enjoy the moment." Something in the distance seems to catch his eye and he slowly starts moving to one of the ale barrels. "Camonali herd, hmmmm. Not sure I know that name - sounds close to Casmanli. Casmanli would be Great Herd. Can't be that great if Blue Scar has never heard of them - you hear what I mean?"
He fills his drink again. Though he is much bigger than Aja, she is fairly certain that his imbibing speed surpasses just about everyone else present. As she talks to him, he slowly canters over nearer to the stage. "This band is truly wonderful. The lead singer there, the green one. They say she is an orc. Never seen one, but if all orcs sound that angelic, I do so plan to meet more. What a splendid race they must be." He then begins dancing a little, prancing gracefully in place to the rhythm of the band's music. Whatever else Blue Scar may be, he is obviously an accomplished dancer. A nearby elf joins with him and begins dancing also.
Aja thanks Blue scar for his time and expresses her eagerness in meeting his family tomorrow. She then politely excuses herself and approaches Deraaaaaaaaaaiooooo, dropping a half bow/half curtsy before him, trying to find where to look to address him without being rude.
Deraio - the Treoak
"Blessed be, honored treant," Aja says, in semi-fluent treantese. "It is a rare delight to encounter one of your kind among so many two-feet! I am Aja, daughter of Elder Xevellius and Eram."
He slowly turns and bends down to peer at Aja. She can now clearly make out an eye and what is probably a mouth. After observing for several seconds (treants can be quite slow when no imminent threat is present), Deraio slowly starts speaking in elvish with a low voice difficult to hear. "Blessed be, human kin." It takes a few seconds for even that statement to get out. The sound slips out of his mouth and it is forced past the vibrating wood of his trunk giving it the resonance of a bassoon. Because of its nature, when treants talk, there is a slight grating sound that comes from the wood scratching on wood. Some people can't stand it, however for Aja it just gives her a slight chill (think fingernails on a chalkboard). While Aja understands the leaf language of Treants, she is happy to know this one has mastered speech - an accomplishment that many treants never master. "I hail from the Salia Grove. What can this minor oak spirit witness for you today?" Even as he speaks, his leaves dance and change colors, flashing the same greeting. Then along with the flashed greeting is a pondering which he doesn't verbalize _It is such a strange custom that these bipedals give reverence to their parents rather than their grove_. Such ponderings are common among the tree folk, it’s as if their thoughts feed directly into their leaf language. As such, treants are known to rarely if ever be deceitful.
Picking up on his discomfiture, Aja adds hastily, "I grew tall in the Quirk Woods far to the south to which my father dedicated his guardianship. I traveled here with four increasingly beloved friends in hopes of solving a mystery many centuries-old. The two-feet that has tasked us with our quest bestowed upon each of us an item of unknown origin but seemingly great power."
Aja reaches inside her embroidered feast day tunic to pull out the Sparrow's Sprig on its long cord, holding the misshapen wooden amulet reverently before Deraio for inspection.
"Have you ever seen something like this?" she asks, carefully trying to discern his reaction.
Just as she is about to fully reveal the amulet, a sharp pang pierces her concentration. Gigi has just bit her on the ear. Hard. She drops the amulet back under her tunic to reach up to her ear which is bleeding a surprising amount of blood. She quickly turns around to demand an accounting where she sees Gigi hovering in the air staring back at her. Aja didn't know bats could have such a condemning look. In a high pitched voice only Aja can hear Gigi scolds her _Child - just where do you think one finds a heart-shaped piece of wood? _
Quickly turning around, she sees Deraio still looking at her expectantly, waiting to see her what she intends to present. He seems rather oblivious to the incident which just unfolded, though that is likely related more to the alieness of animal interactions than to not noticing.
"Er... Actually, I appear to have misplaced what I had hoped to show you," Aja says, rubbing her now-throbbing earlobe. "I hope no one mentions my carelessness to Dame Imoken," she quips conspiratorially.
"May I ask what brought an oak spirit such as yourself to our gathering?"
“That’s ok, I lose often items,” he begins slowly, “of course, no pockets – see problem?” he asks in broken elvish. “I am always finding things of you Aja-kin which I wish to study later. Then forget where left.” Aja can tell he is struggling and discretely, yet very politely informs him that she can understand quite fluently his leaf speak if he would wish to converse in that manner. He then flashes
Are you sure with lots of happy connotations.
“Yes,” says Aja.
Spectacular, I do so love speaking elvish, however it is difficult. And the longer I speak, the more weary and less focused I get. I am certainly the most unfocused Treoak you will ever meet. Of my grove mates, there were 20 of us the rain summer I sprouted, 14 of us survived to the next rain summer. That would be – I think – less than 50 years years ago. I am young – almost still considered a sapling by my people. They insist I will grow out of my ways, yet I am helplessly fascinated by your kind. I think I might qualify as a scholar if I were an elf. Already, I know more about the elves than any Treoak I know. When I learned of and was invited to this feast, I had to attend. So many visitors. I have now met my first orc, the medusa dryad, a minotaur, and I hope to meet the gnome sneaking around here somewhere.
“This is most interesting,” Aja continues the conversation, almost childishly intrigued by this Treoak. “Your name Deraio – is it Treant? Is it a name of your liking?”
Deraio is an ancient druidic word. While we don’t tell secrets of their language, but this one word can’t hurt. When I started leaving my grove from time to time, some of the bipedal caretakers started referring to me as Deraio – it means ‘No Roots.’
"Your name suits you very well. I have met treants before but you strike me as most uniquely adventurous among your kind." She thinks back fondly to her time in the Quirk Woods, learning to speak -- or at least understand -- the language of leaves and branches from the treants her father considered his brethren.
"Was your Grove threatened by this Harbinger? How came you to Kerlostra?"
Truth be told, I know of no grove which has been threatened. I daresay, I hope none are. While the number of elves in the jungles number as the stars, the number of my folk is in the hundreds. Loss of even a single grove would be devastating. His flashing then starts showing signs of embarrassment with his leaves taking on a reddish tint. Aja thinks to herself that it is somewhat curious that an embarrassed treant would similarly turn red just like a person when ashamed.
I haven't actually been back to my grove in almost 5 years. I have spent the last two years living in and around a grove of trekapoks, frequently visiting the elf tribes surrounding them. They also have a Tengu tribe within a few days travel which I have visited from time to time. When a nearby tribe about a week's journey was destroyed, the elders of the tribe I was with sought their ancestral wisdom and determined that a delegation needed to come to this town, something about it having been an agreed meeting point if true danger ever threatened.
Never having been to a large meeting of elves, I asked to join. And to my surprise, as we got near, we found that if we hurried, we would arrive in time for a rare feast. Supposedly there is a great menace in these parts known as a Banshee Spider. Sounds very scary - able to liquefy bones. If I had bones I could only imagine. As it is, I wouldn't want my branches shattered. Anyway - somewhere around here are these mighty heroes who took on the Banshee Spider. And it turned out to be a Matron - a truly tough specimen I am told. Meetings heroes would definitely put the color in my leaves.
Now it's Aja's turn to blush, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of mahogany. "Heroes, indeed," she voices agreement, looking around to be sure none of her friends are within earshot.
"You know, there is something I would very much appreciate your help with," Aja says, tapping her lips with one finger as if in thought. "Despite many years with my father Xevellius, I only recently developed the ability to speak with simpler Flora -- trees, grass, and the like. However, I haven't had much luck being able to communicate with them in any meaningful way. Do you have any advice for me?"
I, as a ‘Plant’, have given considerable thought to this subject. In this respect, Treants are so much more like animals than plants. How is it that your kind can speak with animals lacking intelligence. You share similar senses. An animal sees and hears, so it can relay that to you. An animal moves and has an understanding of its surroundings with relations to other surroundings. An animal feels fear, knows hunger, experiences time and as such – has a memory.
Plants don’t have these things – trying to ask a plant what it sees is impossible. Plants do hear – but not like you understand hearing. They pick up on vibrations. Plants don’t have a memory of much more than the moment. They understand the suns are up and roots are down, they understand that darkness means sleep in that it is what happens when it is dark. They experience the need to expand their roots, they know that water is good. A plant doesn’t know fear. A plant reacts to damage, however the concept of fear is almost beyond it.
Take this feast, you are eating. Does your stomach understand how to digest food – or does it just do it. That is as the plant, understanding is doing. Your stomach understands how to digest food by what it does.
So what have I concluded? When you or I attempt to talk to a plant, that act of speaking is bridging that gap of sensations. We impart something to the plant at that time – we give it an understanding what it means experience time and an understanding of what its surroundings are. You ask Deraio about how to communicate with a plant in a meaningful way – well Deraio tells Aja this – you must relate your messages to what is important to a plant. And consider what a plant considers. Sunlight, darkness, wetness, dryness, time to sleep, time to grow. And then remember that you are imparting some of your understanding on the plant when you ask things like, “how long ago did the deer pass by.” The plant does not understand deer, pass by, or long ago. It will answer using your understanding to the best of its ability. Remember this, and you will interpret its messages so much better.
Now – here is a little secret. Plants live in the moment, and as I said, understanding is doing. You can use that to make requests of a plant. In so doing, what the plant learns is what it will do in the near future. If you can convey your request in the terms of a benefit to the plant, it will happily comply as able as what it understands is what it will do.
Feeling that she has monopolized Deraio's time and seeing others intently listening, possibly wishing to join in, Aja allows herself to fade in the conversation and politely makes her exit after a few minutes.
Kinsi the strange elf child
Aja has had intentions of talking to the little girl playing by herself. Something about her very nature tugs at Aja, not necessarily a premonition but subconsciously she keeps having her attention drawn toward the little girl.
The elven girl-child who has given her name as Kinsi sits off to the side of the feast, playing with two roughly carved wooden animals: an umber-painted tiger and an amorphous blob that might be a rhinoceros.
With a waggle of her fingers, Aja casts Silent Image: creating an appropriately-sized pair of triceratops: one large and one small. The pair ambles over to the child's tableau, pausing before the smaller of the two clumsily dashes excitedly toward the tiger and rhinoceros, tripping and tumbling head over feet before righting itself and brandishing its horned crest playfully.
Kinsi turns her face up towards Aja, her eyes alight but smiling with some clear reservation. Aja returns the smile warmly and says, "Blessed be, little one. I am Aja." She gestures towards the figures at play and continues, "I see you like stories. May I tell you a story?"
Kinsi gives a light laugh of joy. She is ready for a story and Aja has her full attention. "Please ma'am." She then gets very serious in the way only a child can, "but no scary stories. It is almost my bedtime."
"Let's sit over here," Aja says, gesturing to a nearby feast table and seating herself on a woven chair before motioning that Kinsi should seat herself opposite. The girl looks toward Captain Carmla before doing so, still cradling her wooden animals in both hands. Aja smiles and reaches into a pouch at her waist, drawing out a worn deck of painted cards. She cuts the deck shallowly and, using sleight of hand she hopes the girl doesn't pick up on, palms the uppermost cards, shuffling the remainder of cards elaborately before replacing the sideboard of reserved cards on top and placing the deck in the middle of the table between them.
She draws the first card, the key card and places it face up between them: The Tree. The tree depicted is actually a great banyan tree, casting forth thick branches which bend downward to plant themselves in the earth and giving the viewer the impression of a forest, rather than only a single tree. "The Quirk Woods," she says, pointing to the card. "My home..." She gestures toward what she hopes is more or less the direction of her home, "...many weeks away."
She draws a second card, placing this one above and to the left of the first if oriented toward Kinsi's view. The card is the Hermit, a dark-skinned man wearing a crown of antlers and bearing an orange-winged trumpeter bird on his left shoulder. She smiles at this card and says, "Xevellius. My father. A great druid and guardian of the forest."
She looks up at Kinsi for some reaction but gets none beyond continued interest. She draws and places the third card above and to the right of the key card: the Midwife, an ageless woman bearing a basket spilling with herbs. "Eram, my mother," she says then repeats this word in three or four different languages. There! Was that a spark of recognition when she said "naneth", the elvish word for "mother?" Aja can't be certain and Kinsi doesn't volunteer and so she continues.
The fourth card, the Lovers, she places between the Hermit and the Midwife. The card depicts a young couple embracing one another and staring into each other's eyes.
At a look of confusion from Kinsi, Aja blushes before making "kissy" noises in the air. Gigi chooses this moment to fly from her quarterstaff to her shoulder, rubbing his small face against her cheek and squeaking demandingly in her ear. Aja reaches up and absently rubs his belly, completely missing the wide-eyed look Kinsi gives the exchange.
Aja draws the fifth card and places it atop the Lovers card: The Seer card. She is surprised to find that the card face has changed in her staged reading. Ordinarily depicting an elderly pale-skinned woman with snow-white hair cascading down her back and a deck of cards held upright in her left hand, this time the woman holds a single card in the right hand, displaying a card face to the viewer: a dark-skinned young woman with white hair in the same pose as the Seer, holding a single card depicting the original, altered card. This pattern appears to repeat itself as nauseum.
The brown-skinned girl isn't a perfect match: she doesn't bear the glowing blue swirls of the Sylph, but the resemblance is close enough to turn Aja's stomach over. She knows it's very bad luck to deliberately paint a card with one's own visage.
"The Seer," she coughs, "She's a storyteller. Like me." Breath quickened, she gestures nonspecifically toward the overall card she says, "Aja." She had planned to point at herself at this point in the reading but finds herself unwilling to do so.
Kinsi is staring at her in curiosity, not sure what to make of Aja's sudden change in demeanor. Aja eyes the deck of cards in her hand and abruptly decides to end her planned reading.
She smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring way at Kinsi and says, "That was the story of my home and my family. Of course, now I'm here with you..." she trails off, not sure how to continue, not sure she trusts herself to perform an auspicious reading of the child as she had planned.
Picking up Aja’s unease, Kinsi quietly asks, “Can I see the pictures?” as she reaches forth to grab the deck.
Aja unintentionally jerks the cards back, then softly says, “The pictures are special, the must be viewed in a certain way.” The truth is that Aja knows it is extremely bad to have someone else use a true deck. It taints the deck and can totally ruin it for all future uses.
Kinsi now looks confused, scared like maybe she did something wrong, so Aja quickly says “Now – the way to do this is you draw a card.” With quick reassuring smile Aja gets Kinsi to relax and smile back. She is still confused, but now she is intently trying to work out what Aja means.
Not intending to do a reading for the child now, Aja doesn’t think it will hurt to allow the child to draw her own signifier card. That would be a like a little mini-reading anyway. While mixing the cards up, Aja says, “When I set the cards down, you can pick the top card of the deck, top card only, mind you, and turn it over. That card will represent you.”
Aja finishes shuffling the cards and sets them down in front of Kinsi, however she doesn’t remove her hand just yet. “Now – before you do this, concentrate really hard on what card you want to represent you. Think about yourself, your adventures, what you can remember. Think real hard and focus on nothing else, then turn the card over.”
Kinsi smiles, “I want to be a bunny rabbit.”
“I am sorry, there’s no bunny rabbit in this deck. The deck will choose an appropriate picture for you.” With these words, Aja grimaces internally. What if the child is the harbinger? What picture will it portray? Covering her fear, Aja decides to push on ahead. Removing her hand from atop the deck, “Do you have thoughts of yourself fully in your mind?”
Kinsi nods and reaches forth to gingerly pick up the top card. Holding it up for herself to see, not setting it down nor holding it where Aja can see, Kinsi starts to giggle. “It’s even blue – like I had imagined.” She then sits the card down and on its face is the painting of a blue rabbit in front of a smoky background reflecting the flickers of flames not shown.
Aja tenses up, absolutely uncertain what this means. Gigi – who was watching from her shoulder gives a surprised yip and unceremoniously tumbles off, catching himself halfway to the ground in a flutter of hurried wing beats.
“How did you do that? Can you make the next card a ball?”
Not knowing what will happen, somewhat in shock, Aja finds herself turning the next card over. It is a ball, bouncing down a mountainside. Kinsi giggles.
Turning over the next card, before Kinsi can suggest anything, it’s a yellow rabbit this time. Then the next card hurriedly turned is a painting unmistakably of the umber tiger Aja had witnessed the child playing with. Then paintings of a few other toys before the pictures start repeating themselves.
Completely unnerved, Aja hisses, more at the deck than at the child, “Quit that.” Then catching herself almost immediately, “no no, not you child, the deck. It’s being ornery right now. And needs to quit,” she says sternly. “It really needs to quit.”
Turning over the next card, she is relieved when she sees it is The Anvil. The blacksmith in the painting is beating out the dents in a damaged shield. The Anvil typically represents that it is a time to be made stronger through proper planning, possibly a time to find a missing ingredient to success. Discipline and focus can lead to success. However, as the shield (which is normally portrayed by a farming implement) is heavily damaged and the blacksmith is just starting, it represents a battle was recently fought. It also represents that a battle lies ahead, as the shield will be needed soon enough. That the blacksmith has a bandage on his head indicates he was in the battle also. Is this his shield? Aja gets the distinct impression that just as the blacksmith needs time to finish the shield and to recuperate, Aja needs time away from the deck.
Putting away the deck, she says to Kinsi, “The deck wasn’t looking to play nice any longer, it does that sometimes. Let’s play a different game, shall we? Do you know noughts and crosses?”
As Kinsi nods her assent, Aja is left wondering what just happened. Was the deck trying to tell her something, or did Kinsi just somehow take control of her deck?
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Author's Notes
Events occur late in the summer, 920th Year of Her Prominence. (1228 AC) The events happen from Saylo 17th through the 19th.