2018.12.19: Orrery Adventures: Eshtarra (P4)
| Adventures in Orrery Making: Eshtarra (pt.4) | |
|---|---|
| A journey to Eshtarra's Glade to pay respects and request a pure stone. | |
| IC Date | December |
| IC Time | Afternoon |
| Players | Pancake Branton Isla Jes |
| Location | Antarctica |
| Prp/Tp | Adventures in Orrery Making: Eshtarra (pt.4) previous |
| Spheres | Gaian |
Things have been a bit more mellow after the 'Incident', that *thing* with the turtle. Their camping and moving through the jungle has only been interrupted a few times, once by a troupe of monkey thingies that pelted the pack with fruit while yelling at them, and again later on by more mundane things like flashlights and such running out of batteries. That turns out to be pretty amazing in and of itself, though.
In the deepest depths of the jungle, when the lights dim and flicker out, the pack is privvy to a hidden wonder around them when their eyes readjust to the twilight gloom. Bio-luminescence has begun to take over, dappling the foliage in softly glowing color, bird feathers take on a gentle glow, and little streaks can be seen as small animals move in the undergrowth. It's not enough to light things up as well as the flashlights, but it sure is pretty.
"This is like one of Carey's old black-light posters when he was banging that hippie chick who invented a hemp-based douche," Jes murmurs as he walks along, the tip of his cigarette bobbing while he walks and talks. He gazes around with unabashed enjoyment, actually giggling a bit at a flurry of bio-luminescent crickets hopping away in a rippling wave along gently-glowing ferns. He looks aside to Iris and comments, "Seriously, this is like the coolest thing I have ever done in my life. I'm so glad you're /our/ nutcase."
Branton considers and discards a number of solves for lighting, including the industrial strength glow sticks in his pack, but none of them seem quite appropriate. Thinking aloud he asks "Is it just me or does tech options for lighting feel slightly heretical just now. I mean, I've got spare batteries and glow sticks but...." and he looks around at the bio-luminescent surroundings "It'd be a shame to miss this because we were being too bright."
Isla has the pack stay close to each other, and she takes the lead on this walk. "Aye, it is a wonder, and all, but perhaps we dinnae want to be too obvious now. We have nae idea what is out there. So we stick close, eh?" There is a chuckle from the nutcase line. "Aye, she's ours now. And wouldnae want it any other way. I just hope we get closer to our goal here soon."
"See, you *say* that," Iris says while taking a look around, losing herself in awe for a moment, "But I'm pretty sure I'm still usually in the 'mostly passable fuckup' stage of life. I'm super glad you're saying nice things instead of hanging over a pit of lava and telling me that I totally suck. Keep in mind that could still happen, just so we're all clear..." she tells Isla and Jes with a grin. A nod is given to Branton as well, "Now that you mention it, I gotta totally agree. I mean it's a bit harder to see but... Maybe not stomping around with bright lights is the way to go..."
Their trails are still just wiggling, winding gaps between bushes and trees, occasionally there's an *actual* game trail, but those things always just vanish after a little ways. As they get further into Pretty Glow Land, it becomes surprising just how many bugs there are down here. There were always that many, its just now they're super obvious. The air begins to practically taste of spiritual essence, there's a certain sort of mystic charge in the air, serene yet powerful and perhaps the source of the oddities around them. A flock of spirit birds just appears out of nowhere mid flight, zipping past overhead and vanishing again as the gauntlet grows increasingly weak and flimsy.
Branton is getting super quiet the further in the group gets, something in him resonating with the elemental primalness of the area. He may be strongest in fire but he feels them all and this place is...saturated with power.
"Missing the comforts of home already, Peach?" Jes replies with a smirk to his Alpha, waggling his eyebrows and making his cigarette bounce in his lips. "Personally, I'm hella digging this. I'm thinking we need to set up a vacation spot here. Find a little cave in a cliff or something, seal it off good and tight, set up some bunk beds, a bar, a wood-burning stove, come here a couple times a year and enjoy my empire...."
The Ragabash is taking in the sights, enjoying the wildlife, and comments aside to Iris, "Well, six of one, half-dozen of the other, but you make interesting weird shit happens and you have a really nice ra...." He stops when the spirit birds flock the hell up, watching them go, and comments to Branton, "Okay, we are now in Tripsylvania, officially."
Isla is just about to smack Jes with a wave back of her hand, but she stops to see these birds as well. "Well, that ain't no will 'o the wisp, but it sure is something." she whispers. "Could this be closer to what ye were lookin' fer, Goop Mistress?"
"You keep your eyes off my rack, mister." Iris says, waggling a finger at Jes and is just about to answer Isla when-- Oooh. Awesome! Her eyes stick upwards for a moment after the brief rustle of feathers.
A wolf's howl rings out through the air, strong and clear, heavy with the weight of authority and power. >>Who dares approach the Lady of the Land, the Mother of All? What business dares disturb the peace of Her home?<<
Iris stops when she hears this, listening to its Lupine questions and then looking to Isla. "Well, I mean, I'm just the sherpa, you're the one with the Alpha title, so..." she makes an 'after you!' gesture to let Isla answer the wolf. Juuuuuust in case they're all about to die, she snags up Branton's hand to hang on to.
Branton is awestruck and just stands there, stunned and watching as the howling starts.
"I don't control 'em, I just wear 'em," Jes replies idly to Iris, but there's that howl, and he SHUTS THE FUCK UP for once. He steps out of Isla's way, puffing on his cigarette and smirking a little, and reaches out a hand so a blue glowing moth can land on it, mouthing the words 'So cool!' to anyone looking his way.
Isla gives them all a look of STAY and she steps forward and shifts to lupus. >> I'm Isla Ennes, rited Fiery Bellona. Born on two legs, Fostern Ahroun Fianna, daughter of Claws-of-Fire, Alpha of The Devil's Own, patrons of Weasel. We have come to seek you out in peace to gain knowledge. We seek permission to approach and meet with you.<< Her flaming red fur, thick and poofed a bit from this all, plenty visible in this low light. She gives the respect this authority figure deserves.
On perfectly silent paws, a pack of wolves invades the spot where the pack stands, slipping out of the color streaked foliage all around and surrounding them after Isla's reply. Thirteen of them, their fur a perfect abyssal black so deep as to render them nearly invisible save where they block bio-luminescence. Their black coats are spattered with softly glowing white specks that give the creatures the appearance of living, moving constellations. Looking at them when the dim light around them allows it, there is no mistaking these wolves as anything other than Garou, legendary warriors that have gained that ultra rare calling to join Gaia after their deaths and join her sacred pack. One from each tribe (including the Stargazers), they circle the Devil's Own pack, sniffing and checking them carefully. For those with magic sensitivity, there's gifts being used to ensure that the newcomers have not brought with them taint or ill intent.
When all are satisfied, their own alpha chuffs, >>Come, pass the guardians if you be pure of heart and soul, perish at their claws if you be fouled by deceit or greed.<< Eshtarra's pack continues to surround the Devil's Own as it urges them forward, escorting them towards their second test.
Branton is sometimes a merchant and sometimes a mercenary, and used to be not a very nice person. But since the Garou found him again he's learned...about being a part of something bigger, about having people he lets himself care about, and be cared about in return. He hesitates just a half a blink, perhaps just to let the garou go first more than the weight of his past, but he does step forward...ready to be judged.
Jes takes a long drag on his cigarette when they encircle him, counting up the wolves and exhaling a smoke ring with a long, low whistle of appreciation. He listens, then comments quietly to Iris, "So it's either 'pure of heart' or 'fouled by deceit'? There's no, like... middle-ground? I mean, I'm a fucking /Ragabash/." He sighs, running a hand through his hair, and mutters, "In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess."
Fiery Bellona will lead them forward, keeping her head just a bit lower than those judging them, but only in respect. She looks at each of them, and then steps carefully (although her tail brushes Jes' leg in a reminder to keep it together - no peeing here!). She thinks over the pack link, >> One step at a time. We do this together. << She will be sniffed, and checked, and she will not stop it. This is a time for respect and to show that while they are a fun loving bunch, they do no mean any harm here.
Guided forward by the pack, the Devil's Own are lead to a break in the trees. The jungle just abruptly stops, leaving a large space between itself and the miracle of growth and nature that is home to an aspect of Gaia herself. Above this open track, circling the central glade of this underground paradise, are birds. Hundreds of thousands of birds. Spiritual, physical, amalgamations of both, they fly in a ring that orbits Eshtarra's glade like a sparkling ribbon of color in movement. Their wings beat a rhythm and their feathers rustle whispered lyrics to the song of life itself. But, as is true with nature, such beauty and serenity hides within it a fantastically destructive streak; the claws and beaks of these birds flash silver and gold, and their eyes are as cold as a shark's as they view the Devil's Own while passing overhead...
Branton is following along quietly, looking everywhere like a goddamn tourist but managing to keep up a bit. He looks up at the birds and smiles as he resists the urge to take the packet of crackers from his MRE lunch out of his pocket to offer to the sentries.
Jes watches the birds flock out overhead, blowing smoke out his nose and following along with his pack uneasily. It's not fear; it's just a lack of grasping what the fuck this /is/, and feeling out of the loop. He notices that Branton is smiling, and mutters, "Weirdo," trudging along and just trusting that Isla's not about to get them all killed.
Fiery Bellona believes that every one of them will pass, no problem, and takes them forward passed the birds. She does not even look back to see as she is that sure of herself. >> No fear. We got this. << she send on the pack link. Quiet steps, thoughful and respectful. This place is now even more auspicious than she imagined and it is going to be a memory the keep forever.
The star-pack leads the Devil's own under the birds... Who do not swoop and tear anyone's eyes out. There's no happy bell or obvious sign of it, but simply passing under the birds without being shredded is their 'test passed' moment. "Put it out." Iris says, and prods Jes in the ribs. I don't think Earth Momma's gonna want you smoking in her house."
Stepping through the foliage with the legendary wolves around them...
The group enters a picture perfect glade with a great tree growing at its center. Spirits flicker in and out of the umbra as if the Gauntlet didn't even exist, and around Branton&Co, it actually *doesn't* exist, the group walking with an eddie of perfect Oneness between the planes. Birds singing the sweetest songs, fluffy little bunny type things and other creatures of peace and balance frolic to and fro, hither and yon amidst shrubs and vines peppered in flowers that literally glow with the essence of Life. Along the ground there are strange, ephemeral flowers blooming puffs of pure gnosis. Crystal clear waters nourish the plants, a sweet breeze refreshes the soul, and there, at the center of this little glade, right under the great tree, there is a jut of sparkling crystal shot through with veins of gold.
Sitting there atop this rough throne is a woman just shy of her middle years, her skin golden tan and her hair a tangled riot of browns and reds, her face beautiful but natural, weathered a bit by elements and marred only by a trace of heavy sadness. She's buck naked, breasts and belly swollen in pregnancy though she maintains a bit of modesty by way of cleverly growing vines and flowers that drape across her form. She smiles softly at the Devil's Own, and in a musical voice she says quietly, "Hello, children."
When they're actually spoken to by a piece of Gaia herself, Iris loses her absolute shit, bolts quickly to Lupus and throws herself forward, whipping over onto her back with her wrists bent and ears down, tail whipping furiously from side to side as she shows the goddess her belly. It's like when you've been gone seventeen years (or six hours) and your puppy is so freaking happy when you come home that it submits and just instantly wants to pee itself. Except Iris does not pee herself. It's a close call though, really.
"Oh, shit, right," Jes replies quietly to Iris, putting out his cigarette on his shoe and tossing the filter in his pocket. He follows along into Hippie Paradise, taking it all in like a video on the High Times web site, but then catches sight of Eshtarra and his jaw just drops. He drops his gear and falls forward to catch himself on his paws, scooting ahead on his belly and looking up at the incarnation of Gaia. He doesn't dare say a damn /peep/; no yelps, no yips, nothing. That's awe for you.
Branton does not burst into flames spontaneously or anything, he doesn't say anything he just drops to one knee and rests one arm across the raised knee and the other fist rests on the ground.
Fiery Bellona already in lupus drops down further and moves slowly with her belly to the ground and in submission to Estarra. She looks at her and lets out a breath as she feels that harmony here, something she'd never quite felt before. Nothing but respect and well, almost a grin seeing Iris respond. But still happy she is their nutcase.
The Great Lady watches these acts of love and submission with a soft smile and eyes as deep as space itself, and for a long moment just says nothing. There's no uncomfortable air of expectation, no feeling of lack or want, there's just peace as she basks in the company of those that worship and fight for her, or basking in the company of She who is worshiped and fought for. Little Gnosis flowers pop as the wolves prostrate themselves, puffballs of essence seeping into their fur like a cool, kind touch.
When hearts and spirits have settled and taken in the moment, she speaks again. "You've come to ask me for something. I will give this thing to you, if you will sing for me. Sing me a song of your lives, each of you, and a stone and a blessing will be yours."
Death's Jester raises his head, shifting back into his human form with knees on the ground so that he can do what he does: talk. He takes a deep breath, and speaks from the heart -- not necessarily the best choice -- in the fashion of a limerick, his go-to performance piece.
- I come to you Rited Death's Jester,
- A mere supplicant, not a requester,
- Seeking only adventure,
- Not a boon to indenture,
- Nor prod, perplex, pressure, or pester
And when he's done, he smiles a bit like a child trying to amuse a fond parent, bowing his head again toward the ground.
Branton does know how to sing, even if he doesn't practice as much as he should if he wants to get really good at it. But what he does have is sincerity and a load of raw magical potential that he's been saving for something. So he pours it into a song about the glory of fire in all its forms and all its blessings.
- Fire in the head...I'm a flame in motion
- Fire in the head...I'm a sword that's sharp
- Fire in the head...I'm a drop in the ocean
- A shield in battle and a string in a harp
- Fire in the head...I'm an eagle soaring
- Fire in the head...I'm a spoken word
- Fire in the head...I'm a torrent pouring
- A grain of wheat and a cauldron stirred
- Fire in the head!
Fiery Bellona raises up to her haunches, paws on the ground. She leans her head back and howls. A howl of beauty, and deep deep meaning. She puts all her love, strength, and will into it to show just how meaningful this place and this meeting is to her. A yip or two here to add emphasis, before she lays back down on the ground, to submit to her.
Iris too shifts to homid once again as she rolls, ending up on her knees, sitting on her feet and smiling like a friggin idiot at Eshtarra. The goddess, meanwhile, listens to each instance of poetry, singing, howling, and limerick, soaking in these unique and personal moments of expression from the heart with that smile that mixes joy and sadness together into something Mona Lisa beautiful. It's no wonder she favors the Galliard auspice most. She'd never say that though, just as she only rarely gives any pack of wolves her patronage. A mother should not show favoritism, and should love all of her children equally, after all.
Iris, as it turns out, can sing like a mother fuckin diva. She does so in her first language, modern Greek, weaving a song for the Celestine off the top of her head.
Desperation and dark times, freedom and belonging, a refusal to be caged again in any sense. She sings of her longing to explore and know, and to bring understanding and enlightenment to her brethren and sistren by braving the cosmos for those who can not go there.
The goddess seems moved and pleased by each person's artistic offering to her regardless of its length or how it was performed for her. "Beautiful... My children have such interesting lives, don't you? Very well, you may have a stone of my domain. I thank you for your company and your love..." And just like that, she's gone, vanished, winked out of view on every plane, but the breeze sighs with pleasure and the vegetation seems to shift comfortably. She isn't gone, she's just.. Everywhere.
Amidst the odd flowers, the ground shrugs and moves to make way for a large stone as it rises up out of the ground, sending gnosis puffs scattering. Half the size of a human, rough and dirty from the soil, colored a sort of blue/white/green.
Jes sighs contentedly, feeling simultaneously like he's breathed in a fresh breeze, closed his eyes to let the sunrise tickle his sinuses and make him feel like sneezing, and like his toes are running through fresh grass. He grins broadly, looking around, and asks without sarcasm, "So... how are we carrying that home?"
Fiery Bellona shifts back to homid, her curly locks waving in that breeze, and she feels like a goddess herself. She looks over the rock, and while she has such a contented look on her face, she does ponder the same thing. She's just not in a sarcastic mood like her Beta is. "On yer back perhaps? Ye feeling like Atlas, Sprinkles?" Ok, maybe a little.
Branton was kneeling there stunned until he laughs out loud at Jes' question in a sudden release of tension. After a moment he catches his breath and says "Well my exit strategy that I offered earlier will work, assuming between the three of you it can get picked up off the ground."
Iris too is grinning and looks like she had the best nap ever, combined with that amazing kind of hug you get from a grandma, with a dash of 'just saw an adorable baby duckling' all at the same time. "I have no idea!" she says while hugging herself and going completely gooey. "Um.. You guys still have that rope, right? If we wrap it up and um, all hang on to an end, then I bet we could carry it. ... Yeah maybe yours is better." she says to Branton with a goofy grin. "My uh, my only other 'plan' is to cry to Momma about how I'm basically the worst planner ever..." She doesn't *want* to, but she makes herself get the gumption to stand up, shift to crinos, and be ready to help move the stone and leave this place they fought so hard to get to.
"Oh, right. Thanks for making us so strong, Mom!" Jes declares joyfully before shifting to Crinos as well and moving to try and help, bracing to lift with his knees and not just send this thing rolling Raiders of the Lost World style through the Garden of Eden.
Isla cracks her neck and stretches her arms. "Alright, let's do this! The Devil's Own can get it done." She shifts up to join them in Crinos and lift that sucker up right there.
Branton grins broadly as he approaches the boulder, doing the math in his head "I don't know what kind of stone that is but sandstone is a hundred and fifty pounds per cubic foot. Granite is a hundred and seventy five. This rock is maybe twenty five to twenty seven cubic feet so around two to two and a half tons. Each of you in your warforms can lift about a thousand pounds by yourselves so that leaves my spell about a thousand pounds of boulder plus the four of us. This might take a hot second." Then he takes a deep breath and starts chanting.
It's a really awkward job at first; the thing's heavy as fuck and also not at all uniformly shaped. With three crinos, being all strong enough to lift it just fine, there's still a moment where it's just a struggle to keep it from unexpectedly flopping over to one side or the other. Once they've got it though and they're ready, when Branton's begun his chanting to take them home again, Iris flattens her ears down and out to the side with a quiet little whine. "I don't want to go." she says out loud. Not that she tries to stop them leaving, it's just a wishful thought is all, but even that's outdone by the need to get back to work.
Jes manages to get his monocle up to his eye -- it takes creative blinking, winking, and use of his Crinos tongue -- and activates it to state, "Okay, if we wanna get out of here without, like... dying... we wanna go south by southwest at... okay, it's 10 o' clock from where I'm lookin' now, so that puts it... 6:45 to you, Die Hard. Do the thing."
Branton nods at Jes and visualizes the destination as he releases the first spell. Usually when he's done short range teleports, even for the whole group, its been a matter of seconds to cast and then the travel time is almost instant. This time it takes almost two minutes to shape the spell and there's a measurable lapse of time in the 'in-between' blackness when the world blinks out. Branton leaaaans into the boulder and calls out "Next?" as he catches his breath some. This process will repeat a few times.
It takes Jes and Branton both to get them out of the glade, one to aim them and the other to target them. You'd think it'd be some super thrilling ride but mostly it's a lot of blink! Now we're in pitch blackness! Do a ritual... Blink! Now we're in darkness AND up to our knees in coldass water! Do a ritual... Blink! But they always end up in caverns, air pockets, places they can fit and which are not infested with things trying to kill them.
They do start getting some light though, it's probably a shock when one of their Blink!'s ends up in a light filled place or once, an air pocket inside a glacier. One more blink and they go from dark blue light to light blue, and then BAM! In case anyone forgot, Antarctica is FUCKING COLD. The weather's nice though, no horrific wind right now and the sun is shining. And there's penguins all over the place, once again FREAKING THE FUCK OUT because of werewolves and a bald guy just suddenly appearing in their midst. The stories were true! It's an invasion!
"Oh, fuck that was weird," Jes growls deeply, taking a breath and trying again. "Okay... that's... south. 1:45 to me, 7:30 to you, and... upward about forty degrees." He's doing his best, folks; 3D navigation off the cuff is nobody's forte.
Fiery Bellona just quietly holds the rock and thankful for fur, and waits until they get the fuck home.
Branton leans limply on the rock when they finally land on the surface and the penguins scatter and he starts laughing weakly "Of course /now/ I think of a better way. We can do that to get the rest of the way though. Know any nice elementals we can bum a ride off of?"
Once up on the surface, laden down with rock and gear and with no one wearing a tuxedo, unfortunately, Iris helps set down the stone and says, "Yeah, I'll find us a ride, you just rest." She then attempts to pick up the (comparatively) tiny kinfolk and just carry him, if he'll let her. Getting home requires a bit of a wait in the snow and the sea of penguins (plenty of time for Jes to address his subjects) while Iris negotiates with some spirits. Most of them are, regrettably, not *super* keen on making that kind of a trip with the gang, preferring their cold climates. A few are game but the trip would probably involve drowning and she politely declines.
Eventually she has to make a bit of a long distance call and has a conversation with a bro of the Devil's Own, a bright white snow weasel who agrees to do it mostly just because it sounds like fun.
Much like Branton's method, it requires a lot of hopping, though this time through moon bridges. Across the ice, then across the sea, along mountain ranges, down into the jungle, along the Amazon, up through more jungle, eventually through increasing dryness, through a desert, and finally into more familiar southwestern forest, until eventually ending in the pack's own back yard again. The spirit demands beer and gnosis in chiminage for being a bus driver.
