2019.02.28 The Journey of a Lifetime Pt.1

The Journey of a Lifetime Pt.1
The pack meets with the leadership and gain more knowledge about the camp. Continued from 2019.02.28 Judoc's Plan
IC Date	TBD
Players	Lleutrim, Aleksandr, Dragomir, Frost, Ryla, and Waziyata (ST)
Location	The Legendary Realm
Spheres	Gaian Garou

Once nightfall has well and truly fallen, the Hounds have a new camp a dozen or so miles southwest, following the curve of a path beneath the snow along the edge of the Troll Wood. The Pack has found themselves put to mild to moderate use throughout the day, helping with manual labor tasks, guard duty, healing work, and anything else they may volunteer for - including scouting the path ahead and behind.

No further skirmishes or attacks occur, and there are no immediately obvious signs of another blizzard rolling in, or a return of the Ganbataari attackers. The remainder of the day passes peacefully.

Come night time, cook fires blaze brightly before the Hounds' makeshift shelters, within a few large tents, beside wagons and carts, and a young boy comes running through the ankle-deep snow of the camp with a summons: "Righ Cunobelinus bids you all join him for dinner as his guests, Battle Singer."

Battle Singer will have been useful through the day's travel doing whatever he was reasonably asked to help with. Lleu puts out a hand to ruffle the boy's hair, "Then we shall come. Give us but a moment to collect our things and we will follow you, lad." The cup of melted snow he had been drinking is finished off, the cup tied to his pack which he shoulders. The Galliard looks to the others now Dragomir and Aleksandr have been brought up to speed on his and Ryla's news they'd learned from Judoc. As soon as everyone is ready to go, Battle Singer will move to follow the boy.

Waziyata has spent most of the day in her lupus form, prowling through the camp as a "dog" investigating things, checking on each member of the pack as they pitched in their own way, and intermittently slipping off to stalk scouting parties. She returns to the assembled group now, and grows into her homid form for the first time in the trip so far.

Her own clothing has become rough spun trousers and tunic with a light, hooded cloak, and she's gotten a haircut somewhere. No more ponytail.

She falls into line with the group, following Lleu to the meeting tent without comment.

Ryla has helped and is talking to others throughout the day. Helping with those that need to talk out anything, while helping them setup camp. When the invitation comes, she is ready and will walk with the group to meet with the Righ.

Frost walks along with Aleksandr, quiet, keeping to herself mostly as she looks around at the group. She watches the people of the Hound, taking note of all the little things they do as part of their survival a somber note to her expression.

The group is lead to a large tent, almost large enough to be called a pavilion, with a fire burning brightly before its open flaps. Inside there are no decorations or furnishings beyond a few simple stools and chairs. A set of barrels with boards laid across them serve as a bare bones table, Cunobelinus seated at its head in one of the few chairs. Judoc is at his right hand, an unfamiliar woman at his left. A small gathering of elders and a few young, fierce warriors are at the table, already weighted with a simple meal of traveling fare and stout ale. As the pack arrives, the Righ dips his head toward them gravely, "Sit, be at home, share in what food and drink we have. I've heard good things about each of you today, keeping the warriors on task, healing the sick and injured, asking after ways you can help us with our foes."

He stands up then, and the others at the table stand with him, "I did not introduce myself properly, thinking you must already know whose land you tread upon. I am Cunobelinus, Righ and Grand Elder of what was once the Sept of the Noon Sun, ere Fimbulwinter fell upon us. Druid of the Hounds of the Antlered One, and chosen of Belenus, who lights the world in his radiance."

Lleutrim has arrived with his companions and pauses to listen and study those already gathered. He doesn't take a seat and is rewarded with introductions. "Indeed, you were not known to me when we first met, sir. Thank you. I am Lleutrim Donnachaidh, rite named Battle Singer, born on two legs beneath the Galliard's moon, Fostern and Fianna of the Sept of the Enduring Spirit. My companions and I have been traveling long and far. So when I first saw your camp, I felt it appropriate to request permission to enter your territory and that is when I first encountered your son, Judoc." Lleu turns his head and waits for his companions to introduce themselves in turn. Once that formality has been seen to, Lleu will move to accept the invitation to a seat. "We thank you for your hospitality. I have been trying to gather information about these Ganbataari that trouble you, and their leader you call Nergüi. We would like to help you for he is a danger to all of us. Somehow he has to be stopped."

For her part, Waziyata gives a slight nod when Cunobelinus introduces himself properly this time. Her head tilts a little to one side, eyeing the man curiously before glancing sidelong to Lleu when he gives his own introduction another time. Her brow furrows, but then at the motion to do so herself, she nods slightly and speaks up. For once, her introduction is carefully worded, serious and formal:

"I am Waziyata Northstar, Puddle Jumper. Ahroun. Child of Gaia, Wyld, and Twister. Daughter of," her voice catches momentarily before she frowns and continues, "Wind that Sleeps at Night and then Wakes. Also Sweet Trees Singing With Cold Water. I am sister to Kaskapahtew, Osawaw, Nikamew, and Twilight's Glimmer."

She pauses then, glancing first to Ryla with a slight nod to the woman, then beyond her to Aleksandr with a sudden grin as she adds more wryly and quietly, "Is lots of names, but they are important."

So much for simple, easy introductions it seems.

Frost signs her introduction, leaving it to either Lleu or Alek to play her voice. "Evelyn Frost, kin to the Black Furies." She's lucky, her's is short and sweet.

Ryla smiles to Wazi. Always happy to hear that introduction of hers. "I am Ryla Irina Penfield, known as Twilight's Glimmer, born on two legs at the time of the new moon, Cliath of the Silver Fangs, from House Wyrmfoe. Daughter of James Penfield, known as Glimpses-the-Unseen-Soul, son of Kristin Penfield, known as Voice-of-Blades, daughter of Darren Penfield, known as Brings-Calm-Through-the-Storm, son of Anthony Penfield, son of Theodore Penfield, known as Whitestreak." She gives a nod to each here, giving respect.

Dragomir has been in quiet contemplation ever since the mention of the Midnight Lands. Though walking in his large Russian form now, he is still mostly quiet (with others). There is a discussion always just out of earshot being conducted with him, as though he was consulting with some unseen presence or murmuring to himself. Half-gloved hands rest in his breaches' pockets as he walks, slung leather satchel bag over his shoulder and his hair in a messy disarray most of the way.

When it comes time for introductions, he looks a bit distant and then he says, "Drago. I am the Claws of Innovation of the Western Province of The Inventium. Wasteland Walker of the Silver Fangs, last surviving Warrior of the Crescent Lodge. This is..." and he gestures to his side, to empty space like he was about to introduce someone else. Then he frowns a bit, blinking in slight confusion and shakes his head. "Forgive me.. I am.. I need a minute." And he starts to wander off to find a place to sit.

"And I'm Judoc Knife of Summer. Warrior of the Hounds, Adren and once Wyrmfoe," the son of Cunobelinus adds gravely to the end of the round of introductions, nodding his head to the pack with fierce pride, "Alpha to the Howling Dogs, Earthquake's fist from the Otherworld."

Dragomir gets a few confused, concerned, or thoughtful looks but none comment on his attempts to introduce a phantom. Instead, once everyone has taken their seats, a few of the elders and warriors make introductions too. All at the table are at least of Fostern rank, most Athro and above, with the exception of a few kinfolk - such as Cunobelinus's wife, at his left hand.

"Now," Cunobelinus speaks after each wooden plate is filled, leaning in to take a bite of his meat and chew it down, gaze moving over the assembled gathering. "You say you would help us with the Ganbataari and Nergüi. Do you come as a gift of the Spirits, on a quest to rid this land of its troubles? Or are you merely seeking the Glory of battle in faraway lands?"

That was pretty weird as fuck. First Wazi gives a Silver Fang style introduction like the Galliard has never heard her give before. Ryla's normal, then Dragomir says /that/. Lleutrim's turned his head and stares at, and then after, the Silver Fang. For a couple of seconds Lleu has a 'what the fuck was that' kind of look to his face. Yep, that got his interest perked. It takes him a few more seconds to crank his attention back around to the here and now with Judoc and company.

Battle Singer takes a moment to consider his reply to Cunobelinus' question as the food is distributed. "We came from a land far away, through the Umbra by moon bridge. You could say that we come from another time, seeking my tribal blood ties. I am charged by an elder of my tribe to learn history of my people and of their deeds. These others have come to help me in that quest. So I would say I am obligated to help you overcome this threat, if we can. I would hope that means we are a gift from the Spirits, if you will, for we have not come seeking Glory, Cunobelinus'rhya."

Frost gives Dragomir the same puzzled look that the rest do, her head tilting a bit. As he moves off to sit she steps away from the group to trail after him, following to where he sits. Once he's settled she lightly rests her hand on his shoulder briefly, her head tilting in question.

Ryla keeps her eyes on Dragomir longer. That introduction has her concerned for her ranking tribe mate, but those questions will have to wait for later. Her ears are on the conversation, and then finally turns to look at those at the table to see what they say. "I would agree, the Spirits brought us here one way or another, working through Battle Singer'rhya and we are here to help your people."

"A traveler from one of the Realms, hmm?" The Elder responds thoughtfully, glancing to his Council a moment before looking seriously back to Lleutrim and the others, "I don't know that many of our Bards will have the leisure to tell you our history unless you were to join us on the road. Do you know the secret of Nergüi's magic, and bring with you his bane? Are you mighty warriors, peerless in your Realm, that you would not worry at the endless hordes of the Midnight Lands arrayed against us? Or do you have some great blessing to turn back the ice and snow, and return this land to the Earth Mother's gladness?"

His words are not harsh or patronizing, mere questions, almost hopeful, though skeptical. "We face the mightiest foe I've seen in all my days, lad. How can I hope to your gifts when Belinus himself fell silent at Nergüi's approach?"

Dragomir appears more like a confused old man, than the Warrior that he is. He settles down into the seat, and lifts half gloved fingers up to press to either side of his temples as his elbows rest on his knees. Intense blue eyes close, and he works on focusing and remembering where and who he is again.

For just a moment his head turns to look towards Frost when she touches his shoulder, though he does not pull away. Instead he closes his eyes once more, and he continues to murmur softly to himself - probably just loud enough for someone close by to hear, or perhaps even read his lips if they tried to.

Wazi watches as Dragomir moves off to sit alone, frowning to herself, thoughtful. She glances back to the conversation at hand as the others settle around the makeshift table and begin speaking of serious matters. Then, rather than hanging around to join in the conversation herself, she melts down to her breed form - without the dog tricks this time - and then pads across the room to sit down at the man's feet, pressing herself firmly against his leg, a warm, comfortable canine weight. She doesn't bother him with questions or speech beyond that, instead turning her gaze and ears on the conversation around the table.

Frost takes up a seat next to Dragomir, her head tilting a little as she watches and listens. Her hands fold in her lap, her eyes lowering as she thinks, then looks back up to the Garou next to her and seems to focus a little more.

Lleutrim frowns, "Alas, no. We do not know the secret of Nergüi's magic and had never heard of him before. We have not come with some great magical fix to cure all your ills, though I wish I could say otherwise. I have come to learn, Cunobelinus'rhya, and if we who have come from a very different place /can/ help, we will certainly try. I claim no easy answers."

A glance is cast over his shoulder to see what Dragomir is up to, mumbling to himself. Lleu looks concerned but leaves the Silver Fang Athro alone for the moment, looking back to Cunobelinus. "Will you tell us of these Midnight lands?"

Cunobelinus glances between the members of the pack at the table, paying little heed to the old man muttering to himself, the woman, and the wolf to one side - though a few of his advisors glance over in concern or annoyance. The Elder nods to Lleutrim's words and question.

"The Midnight Lands are a land to the East, twisted and corrupted utterly by the Wyrm and his minions. Great monstrosities of corruption and hate live there, twisting the very world into a place of darkness and despair, even as he tightens his coils and breathes winter upon us all from the north as his red eye mocks us beside Luna's light.. Even Mother Gaia trembles at their power, and the mightiest of heroes have failed to turn them back. Dozens of tribes have sworn for them in hopes of preventing their own deaths, or some other cowardice, and the Ganbataari are chief among them in my lands.

"What would you propose to do for us, Battle Singer? We are a broken people, fleeing for our lives to distant kin. I welcome what aid you can offer, but, call me an old fool - I don't know what you might do except die for our cause before or after us."

Dragomir stands up suddenly, and gestures out with a half-gloved hand, "We can't go to the Midnight Lands! The kingdom has fallen.. it isn't fertile anymore. The land is twisted, the snake devours its own tail. Malfeas has gripped hold of the old walls, and the shadows loom out like fingers in all directions. The great black castle looms, and the gargoyles watch from the darkened walks, The Maeljin will find you before you get close. It is the beginning of the End, they prepare for the final battle." The Large Russian is confused, maybe even a bit panicked?

Frost looks a little surprised as Dragomir stands, her hand lifting to lightly but firmly rests on his arm as she looks at him, her expression rather serious for a change.

Waziyata shifts her weight a little, twisting to look up at Dragomir as the man mutters to himself. She squirms a little on her haunches, against his leg. Then he has his outburst and the Ahroun jumps to her feet, in homid form again, and reaches her hands for his shoulders gently, yet firmly, from behind.

"Dragomir," she speaks in a lower, serious voice, "That is not our quest. Remember Just a Glitch. Remember yourself and us."

Dragomir settles back down once more when they soothe him, intense blue eyes looking around - confused but starting to refocus once more. "Shaderunner does not know. He has never been this far out. He has not seen what.. " he stops and looks abruptly around, "Where is Dmitri? I came here to speak with my brother.. I know he's here. He has to be here."

He turns and looks towards Wazi and pleads, "He was a hero. He didn't deserve that. He didn't choose that. They tricked him." Then he growls and says, "He was a hero!"

Aleksandr has made his own introduction, as long winded as ever. That’s all he’s done and remained silent, listening and watching as the conversation goes on. Eyes flicker over to Frost and Dragomir, first as Dragomir goes off with a bit of confusion, then a brow raising as Frost follows and does what he suspects is establishes her link. He’s seen it a lot before. It’s Dragomir that gets a lot more of his attention than most though, as if one of his concerns is coming true. Dark eyes study him for a long moment, especially as he speaks. Further marred by said concern.

Then they return to the others and for the first time he speaks. “Everything has a weakness. It is a matter of finding it. Not always as tangible as a knife or claw to the gut, but it is there, given time.”

Just about to say something more he blinks a little, and eyes return to Dragomir. His head tilting a little and he falls silent again. Lips thinning a little.

"Flee where? Are we not charged to combat the Wyrm wherever he dwells? Yes it's dire and very dangerous but what is going to happen if we do not fight the Wyrm? The Wyrm will keep coming and devour us all and the Wyrm will win. I would cower and tremble where /I/ Gaia as well, if those whom are my warriors and defenders would flee before the foe. We all die some day, but how we live and how we die is what matters. Whether we fight for what we believe in or whether we give up, Cunobelinus'rhya." Lleutrim is hungry and desires to eat of the meal but hasn't had much of it yet. "We need more information. We need to be clever. If there is safety you can take your people to, and others who can be roused to take up the fight, then good. But running away from it won't make the Wyrm go away."

If he would say anything more, or ask questions, Lleu is interrupted by Dragomir's strange outburst. "Eye of the Storm'rhya?" A glance back to Cunobelinus, "Excuse me, please."

Lleu gets up from his seat to go and squat down on his hams next to Dragomir. He keeps his baritone very low, laying a hand on the Russian's shoulder, "We did not come seeking your dead brother, Dragomir. We came seeking my people. Do you not remember? For my challenge. Look at me, Dragomir."

Frost watches as Dragomir stands up, closing her eyes briefly before she reaches to rub her hand over her temple. When Lleu comes over she opens her eyes again, shaking her head a little as she signs. "He's having trouble...focusing. He's stuck, scattered. He isn't here with us right now."

When Dragomir sits back down and looks to her, Wazi gives a slight nod, eyeing the man intently as he speaks. She shifts her weight a little, applying pressure, strength and weight, to his shoulders as if to keep him from lurching back to his feet. It isn't ungentle, nor is her tone as she speaks seriously in reply to the man.

"You are Dragomir. Eye of the Storm. Just a Glitch. Son of many-many Silver Fangs. You are right. He did not ask those things. Heroes do not have happy life, only good life. You are not Ancestor. Only thimble them here. Waziyata feels them now. Is bigger for you, I think."

Dragomir looks up at Lleutrim at the words, stoic and solemn for a moment. "I know that." He says firmly. He shakes his head, "I promised I wouldn't seek him. I know that." He looks past Lleutrim then towards the old man, then back towards the others that seem to be around him. Confusion on his face for a moment, replaced by annoyance and he says to Lleutrim with a slight growl, "Eye of the Storm-rhya." He lifts a half-gloved hand to poke Lleutrim's chest to correct him. There's a sharp intake of breath.

"My name is Dragomir Mihailovich. Known as Eye of the Storm. Athro Silver Fang born beneath the half-moon on two legs. Child of Eagle, and I am here to make sure my pack makes it home. Don't tell me why I am here. Do your quest Battle Singer." He lifts his head, and squares back his shoulders some.

He turns his head slightly to Wazi and offers, "Second son.. of many Silver Fangs." he corrects for some reason. He gestures with his hand and settles back in his seat, "Get away from me, I'm fine. I know my role here. Just got a little confused, that's all. I'm fine." he growls a little.

Cunobelinus is tense and silent as Lleutrim makes his opinions known, the Elder's eyes flashing bright with Rage, hands clenching on the tabletop, his own food ignored and forgotten in favor of the conversation after that first bite of meat. It's probably all gone cold now, even in the warm tent, and none of the silent audience eat either.

Rather than flying into a frenzy, the old man stares back at Lleutrim, jaw set. "Guest right goes only so far, lad," he informs the Fostern in a level tone, "I will forgive your ignorance, but not insults in my own hall, feeble as it may be."

He probably would have continued, but his thunder is broken by the fuss around Dragomir and his confused outburst. Cunobelinus goes silent, giving a single nod to Lleutrim's excusing of himself to tend to the matter, and then turns his head to watch in silence as the Athro is consoled.

Aleksandr is one of the few that doesn’t make the Dragomir approach. He just watches the going on between the rest with a discerning eye. Though his eyes continue to linger on the elder Silver Fang, any concern or the like has been wiped from his face back to his unreadable mask. Just studying the whole situation and Dragomir specifically. When he corrects himself and gives a proper introduction, a brow raises again. There’s a slight sound from him when he correct Lleutrim, but it’s impossible to say what it means or what tone it conveys. A glance goes to Cunobelinus, lips parting to speak, and then once again, he stills them for some reason, not saying what he might have.

"Right. You were jibbering. Stay with us my friend." Lleu makes eye contact with Dragomir but now he seems to have his wits back a bit, he gets back up from his squatting down and looks back to Cunobelinus. "I intend you no insult, Cunobelinus'rhya. I ask you a question. I am trying to understand the situation here. We see your people beaten and in disarray, fleeing the Ganbataari and this Nergüi. Do you have a place to go, where your people can be safe? Where there are other warriors to gather to fight the Wyrm? I am a Galliard, as you know. It is my job to understand what is going on, what has gone before, and to rally the morale of those around me. To fight Harano, to fight the Wyrm, to never give up. It doesn't mean never retreat and regroup. But there must be a way to get at Nergüi."

Frost watches Dragomir intently, and from her focus seems to be continuing with the suspected conversation. She slowly pulls her attention away from the Silver Fang next to her to start signing. "If I may...Eye of the Storm'rhya has a good point that we seem to be straying from. Battle Singer'rhya...we are not necessarily here to change their fates. It was to walk in your ancestors shoes...not change the path that they walk."

Cunobelinus watches in silence as Dragomir is dealt with and then makes his introduction, the old man giving a single grave nod in response. He doesn't comment on the Silver Fang's confusion or condition, instead returning his attention to Lleu when the Fianna addresses him again. His frown lingers.

"As I said, lad, I forgive honest ignorance and questioning. But accuse me of cowardice again, and I'll be forced to teach you the same lesson Judoc learned on the matter. I hear his words in your mouth. Do not speak as if I am some dottering, blind old fool with no knowledge of the Litany."

He eyes Lleutrim in silence a moment, as if letting the words sink in, before he continues more placidly. "Understand this first, Battle Singer: My people have lost nearly everything. Still your wagging tongue and think of what that means. Every home: gone. Nearly every possession. Food. Clothing. Shelter. Safety. Friends and family. For every warrior that survives, I have two dozen cripples, orphans, and widows. Our Caern is lost. The mightiest of our heroes died in its defense. Packs swallowed whole by the Wyrm."

He lingers a moment on that, gaze moving from Lleutrim to linger on each of the visiting 'pack' in turn. Then he continues more passionately.

"If it were as easy as charging out to slay Nergüi and be done, it would be so already! Now listen closely, boy, because I do not repeat myself gladly: I lead my people to their kin in distant lands. My cousin Cadeyrn is a mighty Righ with Seers who already search for the secrets of Nergüi. Cadeyrn waits with bated breath to receive us and aid us in our darkest night, if we can but reach him. His warriors even travel to meet us along the way. But journeying through the Wylderness is no easy task, even for heroes.

What I NEED, Battle Singer, is warriors who will put aside their lust for the fight and their arrogance to lecture their Elders and focus on protecting my remaining people. I am RIGH of the Hounds of the Antlered One. That means my people must come before my pride and my glory. They must LIVE if we are to win the war for the Mother."

He sits erect and proud in his chair, staring a challenge at Lleutrim for some response or reaction to that before he finishes speaking in a more calm tone, turning his gaze to Judoc at his side, addressing him now more than Lleutrim.

"If you have some better scheme than to waste your lives in the snow and stop or divert Nergüi, I'll hear it. Until then your people need you here."

Judoc only stares back at his father a moment, then lowers his gaze with a slight nod.

Wazi lingers a moment after Dragomir's words, hands remaining very firmly on the man's shoulders. She nods slightly at his correction, "Second son," she agrees calmly, eyeing the Athro thoughtfully for a long moment. Then, she releases her hold on him and tugs her cloak a bit closer about herself, one hand stroking idly over the fabric of the garment. Then she drops onto a nearby stool rather than moving away entirely. Her attention moves back to the conversation at hand, brow furrowing as Cunobelinus launches into that explanation.

(To be Continued)