2024.2.3: Orrery Adventures: Hakahe
| Adventures in Orrery Making: Hakahe | |
|---|---|
| A trip to the palace of the Sun God to beg a piece of his realm for the orrery, and to request knowledge of his gifts. | |
| IC Date | Febuary |
| IC Time | Afternoon |
| Players | Pancake Branton Irsa Rhapsody Jackie Abril |
| Location | Within a volcano on Vulcan |
| Prp/Tp | Happens alongside '''This log''' |
| Spheres | Gaian Garou |
| Theme Song | [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHUrAvKNF8s |
The blazing sun has surely become a common sight lately, but it's only a pain in the ass for people that have cabins on that particular side of the ship, there's just no such thing as a curtain that's thick enough to block it out completely. However, while it might try to interrupt sleep and kind of drowns out the lounge lights a bit, it IS great for getting a tan, and there's quite a lot of lounge chairs for that sort of thing.
For a while there Mercury had totally vanished in the distance behind us, and it's not until we've gone a full half way around the sun that we finally run into Vulcan. As the ship nears its target, it doesn't look very inviting. Dotted with magma spewing volcanoes, the side facing the sun is a molten red while the side facing away is black and run through with glowing red cracks and rivers of lava, making the surface look like an angry, charred burn wound.
Mercy is bringing the ship in towards the planet, working the steering rings to get the ship into Vulcan's shadow so our friggin eyes can have a rest for once. Big mouthed lizards are sent around to gather everyone up, and they do so by yelling WE'RE HEEEEERE! GET UP!" at top volume in a voice very similar to Gilbert Gottfried.
Rhapsody has been resting as much as she can, in between healing and preparing for the last leg of this trip. The yelling does wake her up as she rushes now to get her stuff together and out to join the others for the arrival here.
Jackie groans as she rolls out of a hammock and starts tugging her books back on. "I know time is weird in these parts, but why does space always feel like it's Monday morning?"
Irsa, having parked in one of those very cabins (and getting no sleep at all), grumpily chucks a shoe at her door when lizards come 'a calling. She's mutters dire threats to herself once she's dressed and up on the deck with the others. "Ain't that a cheerful sight," she remarks, staring at the wasteland hanging in space.
Branton is a bit excited about visiting the home of one of his household gods and pops up like a jack-in-the-box when the call goes out. Heading out to get some breakfast he offers to Jackie "Well all the different day lengths and orbital periods I suppose its always Monday morning somewhere."
Abril pads on in after one of the lizard, head tilting curiously as she looks up at Jackie. << Mondays feel different from other mornings? >> Time... it's a concept lupus is still learning after all. Even as she stands up on back legs to get a better look out the window at the angry volcano planet.
Once the ship's anchored into place, Mercy comes to her gathered up folk and offers around lumps of red clay that she's had stashed somewhere until now. They're wrapped in wax paper right now to keep them moist.
"Today's trip is not outwardly dangerous, meaning it's unlikely we'll have to fight anything. BUT, it will be INWARDLY dangerous. The gauntlet of this celestine is found within your own mind and heart. If you do not pass this test, you will not stand within Hakahe's presence, so I'm going to give you a little crash course on what to expect."
"While we move into the planet and towards the great craftsman, he will reach out to us. He will touch our minds, dig through our memories, our thoughts, our feelings. He will find the secrets that you never told *anyone* about. I'm not talking about the time you borrowed something without asking, I'm talking about things that cause you immense, soul crushing guilt or worry, or the closest thing to it at any rate. Secrets that YOU believe you might cause you to be killed or cast out or even just make your mom disappointed in you. It doesn't matter if a death in your past WASN'T your fault, it matters if you FEEL like it was your fault, do you get me? Your secrets and your weaknesses will be laid bare before Hakahe."
"How do you deal with this without going mad? Don't fight it. You'll WANT to hide these things as you've BEEN hiding these things, but you CANT hide them from him. So release your burdens, LET him see what hurts you and makes you weak, let him forge you into something stronger than what you are now. This is your chiminage to Hakahe. He will unfold those secrets and work them from ore to ingot. Maybe by the end you will find closure, maybe you'll understand a truth you didn't know before, or maybe you'll just finally come to terms with something you couldn't handle before today. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this is going to hurt, a lot, down in your soul. I fully expect we'll be drenched in tears as much as sweat by the time we reach him."
"This clay that I've handed you, this is your tether, your cope. While you're being turned inside out by the lord of the realm, work the clay with your hands. Let it keep you grounded, feel it and remember that you're alive. Twist it and shape it as you are twisted and shaped. And when we get to him, give Hakahe what you have made, no matter how great or terrible it may look to you. Does everyone understand?"
Abril shifts up to homid to actually have hands to accept said wrapped clay, turning it about and about as she listens to the instructions the Elder lays out. There is certainly a bit of nervous gulp from the shadow lord as the mention of baring one's //own// secrets is mentioned, but in the end, she gives a silent little nod of her head.
"Yeah," Irsa finally says, after silently considering this for a long, long while. "I've been dreadin' this for days, but we're here and th' time to hide from fears is long gone. I got it." She takes the offered clay and holds onto it like a lifeline.
Rhapsody takes the clay in her hands, and then a deep breath. No, two. "I understand. This will be difficult. Together, we can do this. Even if we all are facing our own fears." She looks to Irsa and Abril, and then to Mercy and Branton. She's as ready as she is going to be.
Jackie looks unsettled as she takes the clay. It must be serious indeed, since she even keeps her mouth shut as she closes her fingers around it.
Branton takes the clay and nods solemnly before looking around to check in on the others, trying to be reassuring.
Mercy does what she can to try and steel her friends against the trial ahead by going for a group hug. Then, she steps up on the railing and into space where she floats and waits for everyone to form up into their clusters with her. There are no other great preparations, no colors to wear or talens to take, just a silent and nervous flight towards the surface.
It's quite a hellscape down there, just an endless recycling of the landscape that's hardened, melted, moved, and hardened again. It's not exactly quiet or peaceful or anything, too much volcano down there for that, but it's definitely not as violent as the Sun was LOADS easier to approach, just stay away from mountains shooting molten shit into the air and you're good.
Mercy leads the way towards a large red, molten river that's flowing its way sluggishly into a wide cave at the base of one of the volcanoes. You know it's the right place when there out in the open is a boat sitting atop the lava. It's simple, made of thick stone, and held to the shore by an old, grime and ash crusted chain wrapped around a boulder. It's also definitely large enough for everyone to fit without anyone having to sit on someone's lap. At the back of the boat, inside and sitting on the last bench, is a large, crusty ball of ash and mineral.
Irsa doesn't know a number of things, but myths are something she remembers. She rummages in her pockets and offers two bright, shiny pennies to what she thinks just might be the boatman.
When they make landfall, Abril stops for a moment to see if that dirt is easily mold-able or just falls apart like normal soil. It's a quick investigation through before she's scurrying up to keep with the group before they reach the boat.
Rhapsody keeps a hold of the clay, her fingers already working it a bit. Going with the pack of this party, she keeps with them as they follow Mercy to the surface. The boat gets a good look over, and she too is looking to see if there is a ferryman. All she has is clay... and in another pocket some herbs.
Branton is waiting his turn to get on the boat and watching what the others do between glances at the ball sitting on the last bench.
Jackie moves along in the middle of the pack, holding her nose based on the assumption that it should smell like a sulfurous hell around here even if it doesn't.
As people move in and start fiddling with the boat, the ball of crusty stuff at the back of the boat moves, sort of unfolding itself out of the ball it'd been curled into. It looks a lot like a dwarf, as in the fantasy genre sort of dwarf, rather than a grim boatman, and apparently he works for free because he does not take Irsa's coins. Squat and a bit stubby, thick and muscular, coarsely bearded and wrapped in rough, stoney armor. It's skin is the red of baked clay and its eyes glow a baleful, stormy blue that contrasts wildly with the black and red all around. It produces a long barge pole made of some unknown metal and waits wordlessly, ignoring all attempts to interact with it. Once the group is all loaded aboard, it pulls the chain from the boulder and pushes with its pole, sending the boat out into the lava river for a slow float into the mountain.
It's kinda cool at first, nothing terrible happens and it's just a nice little trip. The boatman ignores the group and just pushes along. Inside the mountain comes a hypnotic, rhythmic tink tink tinking, the sound growing louder as the outside world is left behind. The sound echoes and rebounds, the sound of a hundred thousand hammers and picks digging in the red gloom of this underworld. Soon you're able to see them, clay baked dwarves in the shadows and crannies, mining their way through the volcano without a worry about the heat or magma. Tink(tinktink)Tink(tinktink)Tink(tinktink). Their eyes are blue dots in the darkness.
Irsa looks around at the others and shrugs as she tucks the coins away. If she finds another 195 pennies she can always snap up a Totino's from the corner store. She's silent after she takes a seat on a bench and rests her hands on her knees. Her outward composure seems calm, but she's anything but that.
As the boat starts boating, Abril can't help but peek over the edge watching as the clay-dwarf's poles push through that lava river. And then they get to a mountain and there's more of those creatures tink-tink-tinking in the shadows. She whispers to the others, "Do you think they're powered by secrets?"
Rhapsody sits and is unsure about this all, but hey. They have a boat pilot. Those eyes catch her attention, but she tries not to stare. It's just another place, another planet. Abril's whisper gets a whisper back, "That would not surprise me."
Jackie raises one of her legs to put her foot on the bench, knee to her chest as she looks around. "If they could run on heat, they'd be pretty well set here, huh?"
Branton grins at the conversation as he looks around, peering off into the distance and listening to the echoes "Its about motion and friction. Force and resistance. So yeah, heat. I gotta remember that my god is just an Aspect of our host and my understanding doesn't solve the diagram for me. So much of this place resonates with me though."
It'll be impossible for your mind not to wander as you make this slow trip down the lava river, taking in the sights and letting that hypnotic sound invade your mind. Something's going to remind you of SOMEthing in this place. Maybe for a second there you thought you saw someone you knew standing amongst the dwarves. Someone you wronged, betrayed, left behind, or maybe someone you know you COULD betray if you ever so chose. But when you look back, it's just a rock. Maybe you think you see something you stole once, something that was precious to another person, maybe something you took in a rush of jealousy or spite. Or maybe an object that you used to hurt someone. A weapon, a thing you used as "proof" of a wrong doing. But again, it's just a rock, you only saw it wrong for a moment. Out of all these ill memories and thoughts, your Deepest, Darkest Secret is coming to the surface in your mind, your thoughts and memories angled toward that Thing You Did. You know what you did. Is that the body of someone you got killed through your own hubris? Or someone you COULD kill if you didn't control yourself? Nope... just a lump of stone. But now the thoughts are there, digging in, taking you down memory lane.
The further we go, the more the thoughts intrude, the more the memories wont stop flowing, the worries and guilts that you've contained and bottled up throughout the years begin to bubble over as a world of reality and what-if opens up inside your minds. You know what you did. You know what you wont admit.
Iris, still running from your problems, as though light years of distance and endless miles traveled will save your friends and family. You heard the prophets and you've ignored them. You've seen the signs and you've done nothing. Your own son has sung the song of your betrayal. You condemn those you love to ruin. They will die screaming beneath a pyre. They will die drowning in their own blood. They will die because of your weakness.
Jackie, just determined to get someone killed, aren't you? You surround yourself with violent warriors and then take such defenseless creatures as mortal men into your heart. You know why you lied about it, because were it not for the fluttering emotions of love and lust, you're simply luring them to their inevitable deaths. You are a black widow, a preying mantis.
Jackie's face twists as she sucks air between her teeth sharply. She shakes her head furiously for a moment, then she unwraps the clay and begins kneading it hard. She bends over it in her lap, tears dripping down onto it and making it wet. "Nobody's gonna get hurt... Nobody's gonna get hurt..."
Irsa could have fought harder. Could have. Did you maybe go a little soft on purpose? Could you have stopped it? What if you didn't really WANT to stop it at that moment? What if you gave in on purpose and that's why such a thing happened in the end? How does it *feel* to have failed so, so badly at something so important? Did you let the Wyrm in and never even notice?
Irsa's shoulders slowly tighten as the whisper begin. She shifts so she's facing away from the others and stares out directly over the scenery to face this challenge head on. Her jaw twitches as those whispers bring old memories to life. Sarah Kim, an Uktena Cub violently slain during Irsa's Rite of Passage when the Bone Gnawer dodged a blow that struck her packmate instead. Brian Cruz, who also died that same night at the hands of a Leech that Irsa didn't see sneaking up behind them. Her Kinfolk, and those of her Tribe, who rely on her to protect them. Her mother, who sent her away with her cousin Mariah and her family, who Irsa fears will die before the theurge sees her again. The Garou she's known that have died pointlessly over the years, while the Wyrm takes over the world. She could have done more, say the whispers. The Wyrm has marked you in ways. She closes her eyes for a moment as she takes all this in, and accepts the pain of past failures, kneading that ball of clay in her hands.
Abril, what if you end up like him? You've seen it, you've witnessed the powerful repeat the same steps as those that came before them. You know that every time you honor the ones that came before, you honor him as well, you send him a beacon in the darkness. You know he hunts still, that he's used every tool and every ally until they're but nubs, empty shells or worse, dead husks. You've felt the unexpected, unbridled hate well up in you before. You might already be calling him to you. What destruction will follow? How much blood will be spilled in the endless quest to burn it all away?
Abril goes from staring at everything to suddenly trying her best //not// to stare at any shadows they might be passing, focusing some of that energy into the clay in her hands.
Maybe Branton's wandering down a thought path right now. What if you DID just.... tap in to that power source... just a little. What *if*? Would you? Dare you? Because you know you could. What would they do to you if they ever found out? What would your wife think? Your son? You know what label you might have...
Branton takes a deep breath and starts turning the clay over and over in his hand. Almost like he's smoothing it for a start but it does look like he's shaping it deliberately. He murmurs softly "Over me and through me."
Rhapsody knows she should be keeping her distance, but she doesn't, does she? Oh no, you reach out, you *keep* reaching out even though you know you're going to burn yourself if you keep trying to touch that fire that sheds nothing but the light of madness on all it touches. You could hurt yourself, you could hurt those you love, abandon all you hold dear, but you fill yourself with her wisdom even so. So selfish, so reckless, so ready to leave a trail of tears in your wake...
Rhapsody keeps looking toward the fire. It is burning hot, but she keeps moving her hand toward it and yet pulling back. A little further each time, temptation. How does this work that this boat of stone moves through the lava fire? Closer and closer she gets to touching what will burn.
Mercy is surprisingly quick to break down completely, openly sobbing her guts out in a matter of minutes and straight up murdering a ball of clay in her fists. There's the softest of sizzling sounds each time a tear falls and hits the boat, boiling away and leaving only a baked, salty residue on the stone. Tears steam as they move down the cheeks of the passengers, evaporating in the suffocating kiln heat of the river cavern. The boatman and the miners ignore your pain and your presence.
Every little thought about That Secret is like salt in a wound. Memories you buried deep resurface, imaginings of what had happened that you weren't there for come forth. It doesn't stop until you let it play out, stop fighting against having these dark secrets pulled forward to play out in full in your minds eye. You WILL see the death and destruction you have wrought, will wreak. You will HEAR the screams of victims you haven't met yet ringing in your ears. Smell the smoke of devastation laid by your hands.
But...
Giving in feels like a fresh wave of release inside you. Doesn't it feel good to finally share this with someone else? You've been wrestling with it for so long, or suppressing the worry until you didn't realize it was always there. It's been gnawing at you, chewing ever so quietly away at your soul unnoticed and at your identity, a burden you've carried alone all these years. Now, finally, someone else knows. It's a vulnerable feeling, like being stripped bare before a crowd of your peers, but still it's... freeing, some how. Someone's beside you, sharing the weight of this secret. The someone isn't judging you, they're allowing you to feel.
Iris, you've stolen time, but haven't you used it to prepare those you love? Haven't you told them the future that awaits you, and they by association? Haven't you made talens and fetishes in preparation for the inevitable? Haven't you taught the doomed young as much as you can to help them avoid the terrible fate you will bring them? You have stolen time, but you have not wasted it. Are you afraid it will not be enough?
Irsa, you did what you could, didn't you? You're only so strong, you're only so fast, you were only so experienced. You know it wasn't your fault. What are you really keeping buried inside this guilt? Are you afraid that because you weren't good enough once, that you wont be good enough ever? Or when it counts most?
Irsa takes a sudden deep breath, and tears begin to fall. She's not a quiet crier, she's soon bawling with unfiltered grief. It's been bottled up inside her for far too long, dragging her down and holding her back. That clay in her hands is smooshed almost clean through.
Abril, you understand that feeling does not make us monsters, nor does it make us our ancestors. You know that it is how we cultivate that dark garden within ourselves that shapes who we become. Why do you fear the connection with your ancestor? Are you afraid you would allow him to weigh you down with his quest?
Abril isn't crying... but she is biting at her lip hard and keeping her head down even if the thoughts she's dealing with don't really come from a source with eyes one could avoid looking at. That clay in her hands is worked, a little desperately. It's a rough shape forming... something with two legs? Or maybe that's just two sets somehow connected.
Branton, You know full well why you don't do this, why you're better than that. It's not a struggle for you to resist the urge and you aren't kept awake at night by the worry of giving in. The urge might as well not exist at all, as far as you're concerned. All the what if, all the terror and death, these things wont happen, right? What is it that really bothers you, is it fear for yourself? Is it fear of seeing someone you care about look afraid of you? Why lie? What is the source of your silence?
Branton tightens up slightly as the next wave comes and pries at him to get deeper into the meat of the secret. The clay ball starts getting shaped into something with a roundish body and four limbs "Potential is not Actualization. Can do is not Will do. Knowledge is not Understanding."
.oO(Branton does not trust that the Garou in general will respect that just because he can do doesn't mean he will do. And he can't tell anyone, even if they'd react well, because then they'd be on the hook for keeping the secret too. This way its just him who's lying.)
Rhapsody, you understand the difference between madness and righteousness, and you do not reach for her unless you must, and not without preparation. Why do you fear the connection with your ancestor? Are you afraid that you'll give in and allow her to ride your youth in her endless search?
Rhapsody looks torn. She continues to reach out, but her hand is shaking. What is she reaching for? Surely it isn't a firey death itself? She pulls back again with tears falling down her face and her head shaking no. But then she looks back again, unsure.
Jackie, you do not look at men and see prey. You love. You feel. The heart wants what the heart wants. But you know the dangers. Why do you tempt this bloody fate, and why do you pretend that you do not?
Jackie is crying, her clay starting to take on the form of a person as she molds it without clear thought. A person, but one broken and twisted in death, pieces missing and guts spilling. "It's not fucking fair..."
This trip is so slow, why the fuck cant this guy barge faster?! SO much time to drown in the worst thoughts and feelings that you've accumulated throughout your life, all your stresses and pressures, every last wound on your heart poked and proded, and that big one, oooooh that big one inside each person gets a very thorough prodding. Little by little though each person at their own pace, there's some sense of relief, the lifting of a burden. It's you, not the voice. You're choosing how slowly you swim to the surface of this thoughtful depression. And for all those horrifying thoughts, mental images, imaginings, there is goodness buried. That hand in your mind, the whisper in your ear, they start going through the white parts of your personal ledger, driving you to remember victories.
Iris, your family yet lives. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for having a fate you did not choose? Can you forgive yourself for simply existing as your thread was measured and woven?
Irsa, how many people have you saved? Look at their faces, remember their survival. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for being only as you were made?
Irsa closes her eyes as her crying tires her out, tears still trickling down her dark face. She nods slowly as she listens to the whispers and begins to knead her clay into a figure: a rough Crinos werewolf looking up at the moon in wonder. "This is me. I'm part a' everything and nothin'. I ain't a wolf nor human, I'm Garou. I'm violent and angry, and I love a lotta things worth fightin' for. I help th' spirits and th' people around me the best I can," she mutters to herself. "I'm gonna fuck up sometimes, and that's all right."
You are not your ancestor. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for being born into a bloodline through no fault of your own?
Rhapsody slowly begins to nod, and the tears keep coming. "It's not my fault..." she says very quietly, barely a whisper. "No... it.. it was her. Not me... not me..." She wipes her tears as more fall. "She's gone. I'm not her. No no. I'm Rhapsody. I'm the protector of hope."
You take a burden on yourself and accept the consequences so that others need not suffer. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for your lies and secrecy?
Branton has not stopped fidgeting with the clay the whole time, turning and shaping, until the third wave comes and he lets out a long slow breath. Sitting there quiet and empty for just a moment with his eyes closed. Then a whisper of breath "For her...its worth it." And the space between his cupped hands is filled with a burning white light.
You do not look at men and see prey. You love, and you feel. The heart will want what the heart will want. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for being human?
Jackie sets her finished morbid sculpture on her knee, resting her face in her hands and catching her breath as the sobs subside. "Yeah, I'm only human. I'm being careful, and trying my best."
You are not your ancestor. My forgiveness for your sins means nothing. Can you forgive yourself for being born into a bloodline through no fault of your own?
Our past makes us, it molds us. One night you're just a wolf running through the mountains and the next, that all Changes, that Abril knows all too well. A whole wealth of knowledge, of history, of family stretching further back that her pup-self could have ever dreamed. As she faces some of that history she doesn't like thinking about, eventually comes a whisper of spanish. "No toda la sangre es mala..." Not all blood is bad...
As the pain ebbs and the tears slow, the stone boat is pushed towards the river's edge until it scrapes against a jagged ledge of broken rock. The landing is not large, the only possible place to go from here is a rough hewn stairwell carved into the rock and lit red and shadowy by glowing embers in braziers. Right next to entrance to the stairs is a kiln, its door is open and radiating intense heat, and there is an empty tray right in front of it, awaiting offerings of clay sculptures to be baked.
The feeling of your secrets being invaded has ended, you are blissfully alone inside your own head again. Mercy digs in her Bigass Purse while stumbling out of the boat, and makes sure everyone gets like a full fist full of tissues. "Ugh fuck that sucked." she mumbles, her breath still hitching and her eyes still leaking. She's got a lot of personal baggage she had to dig through.
Too late, Irsa's already blowing her nose into her t-shirt. "Personal demons are fuckin' awful," she mutters, right before she sweeps up her packmates in a huge hug.
Rhapsody squeezes Irsa, and anyone else in the hug pile. "Yes, yes they are. Especially how real they feel." So glad they are to the other side, she does have to mention, "I hope we can take a different way back to the boat."
Abril eats the tissue that's offered, well... just a nibble of a corner, before she realizes other people are using it to dab at faces or whatever. Then she'll mirror that.
Branton will take the tissues and does his own sniffling as he steps up to deposit a little rough hewn clay bear that looks like one of the boulders in the caern's heart. Then he realizes there's hugging going on so he joins in the group squeeze and sighs, relaxing just a smidge.
Jackie just wipes her face on the sleeve of her Canadian Tuxedo, but then joins into the hug pile. "Goddamn, that was savage. Can I just go get punched by the sun again instead?"
Mercy is gonna get in on some of that hugging action, hippy lady needs this! She sets her clay thing down on the tray first though, a horrifying winged monster covered in blades and spikes where clay had smooshed through her fingers. THEN hugs! "I am *so* sorry!" she wails at her friends. Once everyone's had a good smoosh and put their secret art onto the tray, Mercy'll slide the tray into the kiln and shut the door. "I know right? I think I'm down for fleeing to go get punched by the sun again instead too. Buuut we're already here, so..." SIGH. She starts towards the stairs to climb them. Surely whatever's up these steps cant be as shitty as what they just experienced, right?
"That was awful. But ya know, I kinda feel a bit better," Irsa admits, padding up the stairs after her mentor. "Don't think I really wanted t' face all the baggage I've been carrying around." She pauses from time to time to look back her shoulder at the others, to make sure they're okay.
Abril's construction is a little rough around the edges, but seems to be a two sided figure. One half a wolf... but a human side with a weird and antiquated metal helmet. Can they actually be separated? hard to say. She certain doesn't. For Irsa's declaration of baggage, she gives a shrug. "Nobody wants to." Denial is a hell of a coping mechanism.
Rhapsody will hand over her clay, which now looks like some sort of small horse, but with wings. Yet not totally a horse - whatever it is. "Where do we go next. We are here. Let's do this."
Branton nods at his mate and stays next to her when the hug pile breaks up, putting an arm around her waist "We've come all this way, we might as well say hello yeah?"
Mercy smiles and smooches Branton's cheek. "You guys are all so amazing and resilient." she comments, and starts them headed upwards.
The stairs lead up through the mountain, dry and crunchy with grit under foot and laced with shivering shadows. They spiral up and up, steps echoing until it sounds like there's a whole army of you moving up the steps. When they let out though, it's like stepping into a museum. What looks like an endless series of rooms connected by archways that were carved rough though the stone. Each room has neatly organized alcoves in the walls, shelves, and display stands covered in quite possibly the most staggeringly awesome display of craftsmanship and artistry, like, anywhere. Statues, weapons, armors, centerpieces, strange shit that you don't even *know* what it is, it's everywhere. You're given some rough idea of where you're at in the mountain by one of the walls having several rough windows carved into it. Through those you can see the black and red landscape and the light of the sun shines through and pools on the ground, illuminating several interesting objects. The way things are spaced and laid out sort of demands that either you'll fan out just a bit, or else be forced to walk single file. You know how museums do with their pathing, they want you to see the sights!
"Yeah, for real," Irsa agrees with Abril. "I hope I didn't blow too much snot over ya'll while I was bawling." She scrubs both hands over the tear stains on her face and begins checking out the rooms. "Wow, this is a lotta cool stuff. Th' Celestine has great taste,' she says as she admires a tapestry rippling with molten metal and stone threads.
Jackie diverts out to the left a bit, her eyes being drawn by a large collection of spears with different cultural designs together in a large case. "This stuff didn't come from Earth, did it?"
Branton perks up some as he looks around as he responds to Jackie "Not sure but I know a lot of it is different offerings from crafts-folk of all kinds of places and times. Even if he's not worshiped by name every act of creation proves his concept's importance on the warp and weft of the Tellurian and thus belongs to him at least in spirit. And some of it is stuff that got commissioned and then never got picked up."
"Why would just come from Earth if not an Earth spirit?" Abril asks even as she does give those weirder artifacts and extra look over.
Despite what each of our respective cultures say the god of crafting does, all of it is present and represented. From wood carving to pottery to weaving to metal working, it's all here. There is simple and there's complicated, there's bizarrely magical looking and totally, mundanely understandable looking. Fragile or sturdy, big or small, it's just... all of it.
A few people are forced to fan off to one side as the group moves in, still 'with the group' but not immediately right next to them. (Our other team that isn't logged on for today)
Near one of the windows and sparkling in the light is an unearthly crossbow of fine wood chased with gold. So much gold!
A magnificent black goat's horn carved in white Nordic runes and chased with silver is near the spears Jackie's looking at, shining under cleverly recessed lighting on a display stand.
In the shadow against the wall is a weapon set so black that it's hard to tell they're 3D, not 2D. A bow is crossed with a savage, barbed sword.
On another display stand is a slim, dark cuff that is decorated with dark, spread wings. Or is it open book pages? It's hard to tell, the design keeps shifting ever so slightly with secret knowledge.
Rhapsody is looking at the artifacts as they walk past them. "So much to see. Did it all come as offerings?" She sees the weapons, and the books, and just.. wow "The knowledge here. The craftsman ship. The detail."
Irsa whistles as she spots the weapons. "Check you out!" she says, stepping over the admire the crossbow. "I ain't usually one for flash like this, but look at the craftsmanship on this thing. Musta taken the maker forever on this. Years, I bet."
Branton is going to get whiplash he keeps trying to look everywhere at once. His nature as a scholar of craftsmanship techniques to make things as authentically as possible is getting tugged on hard by all these examples of prime specimens he'd not see anywhere else.
Jackie drifts past the spear case, liking the look of some of them, but also acknowledging that they probably aren't as practical as her current one. Then she finds herself in front of the next case, staring up at the horn. She doesn't recognize it, but for some reason finds herself licking her lips as she gases up at it."
As Abril slowly makes her way around the room (there's a lot to look at! And it's all impressively worth looking at!) but it's definitely the shifting feathers (or is it books?) that seems to catch her attention the longest, head tilting as if she tries to place the design.
Irsa: It looks like what would happen if a future weapon fucked a medieval crossbow. Originally created by Hakahe as a prototype for the Helios loving Children of Karnak and now in the possession of a mad black woman. Ostensibly shaped like a large repeating crossbow of fine wood but embedded with a complicated patterns of inlayed gold and endowed with several mystery canisters (also gold) where its bolt clip might normally go. There's no actual place to load ammo. Various knobs and lenses appear to have SOMEthing to do with the weapon's damage dealing and there's a fancy little scope to help with a more precise shot. The artistry of the weapon is magnificent to say the least even if it does look overly complicated.
"Go on, lift it, see how it sits in your hands, hm?" comes a deep, gravely voice. A Dude has appeared like RIGHT behind Irsa, just out of fucking nowhere! A clay dwarf, a clay smith, a clay native American or viking god, whatever you see him as, he has the red skin of baked clay and his eyes glow the blue of pure life and magic. "I made this for the children of Karnak, and they returned it when they had vanquished darkness from Helios's sight. A Death Ray, they called it. After you've used it, I'm sure the irony will strike you." he adds with a deep, rough chuckle. as he turns to move and mingle with the group.
Rhapsody goes looking at for that bow. She has the feeling it is something she must check out and see with her own eyes - but as black as it is, like a shadow itself, she will probably feel it first - even though she is unsure if she should.
Irsa nearly jumps out of her skin when Vulcan totally surprises her like that. She shoots the Celestine a sheepish grin and turns to look between him and the crossbow. "Really? I shoulda known with all the gold. What do th' canisters hold?" she asks, as she hefts the weapon and checks it out. You don't need to extend her an invitation twice.
Hakahe doesn't answer Irsa, he merely shrugs and moves on towards Jackie, maintaining his crafting secrets. The minute she picks it up, the bonding and attunement with the twin sun spirits inside begins.
Jackie: A slightly twisting black goat horn vessel with white etchings of ancient Nordic runes that tell in old bardic style the creation of mead through Kvasir's blood mixed with honey. It is chased with finely detailed and tarnish-proof silver on its end cap and has a hinged silver lid that may be buckled down to protect one's drink from spilling. This horn is imbued with a joyous and valiant spirit of Mead and can be clipped to one's belt.
The god of making awesome stuff drifts by Jackie, telling her, "Kvasir's Endless Wisdom. It has made its way through many long houses and many frigid camps. It would be a pitty if no one ever drank its joy and wisdom again."
Abril: A slim and delicately wrought cuff made of black metal that's not shaped for a human "wrist" and is instead more suited for an animal's foreleg. When worn it resembles bird's wings wrapping around the limb or perhaps the curves and angles of an open book. Strange lines might be unknown writings or the details of feathers. Either way the design seems to change often.
"There are far too many secrets in this delicate thing to be spoken aloud. Should one try, the very lights of the universe might extinguish before the telling could be finished. And yet it languishes here, in quiet loneliness. For a Corax that was made, a gift for love. Sense and sensibility moved him to return the gift to me before he could give such wealth away for no more than fancy." He tisk tisk tisks while moving towards Rhapsody.
Branton is most certainly not hovering and trailing after the God like a drooling fanboy. Though those who know him well can tell that Branton wannnnnnnnts to. What he might learn oh boy oh boy.
Jackie jolts as the god speaks behind her. "What, you can actually drink out of it? Doesn't it belong in a museum? I thought I heard a wise man- Wait, no, that was just Indiana Jones."
"Secrets don't stay secrets when spoken aloud..." Abril agrees with the crafter-God, nodding her head once she can peel here eyes off the cuff.
Rhapsody is fascinated as she looks at the bow, but she hears the others finding things. "What a master craftsman. I could spend forever learning in here."
Rhapsody: A vantablack longbow bow so dark that its incredibly intricate masterwork detail cant ever be seen but it can be felt. Originally created by Hakahe for the Goddess of Terror and bound with spirits of darkness and pain. Sadly it went unclaimed and now has a Garou owner.
"Desolation. One of the few of my creations that I am glad never made it's way to its commissioner. The goddess of Terror, child of War, she hunts in the dark and drives her prey mad with fear. None may understand fear quite as well as a woman, hm? And none but a woman of war may return it with such deadly accuracy. Heft it, if you are brave enough."
With people getting face deep in items that it seems implied they're allowed to keep, while they're bonding with spirits of mead and bird and blind terror or night, or even sun, Hakahe moves his slow way through the other group 'over there', bestowing brief histories and names of items they have been called towards. There's a brief kerfuffle and yell over there, but it's handled before any of you guys can do more than look to find out what's going on. Eventually, he wends his way through the displays towards Branton and Iris. "You are not... Shopping." He says the word oddly, it's a new one for him. Probably learned it from Mercury.
Branton grins and shakes his head at the god's observation "No sir. It is more my nature to sell than to buy but here it would one offering amongst the many I've made. Your statue stands in the shrine near the door of my workshop. I came...to see what I might see. And perhaps learn. And to see how I measured against the passage trial. And to meet you in person of course. Its an honor."
Rhapsody dares to do it, and reaches for the bow and picks it up. There is a rush of feels, an energy to such a weapon. "I am. I am brave enough. I am a fury. This is.. this is my calling." She lifts the impossibly black longbow up and feels every inch of it, admiring the workmanship and getting a feel for it. It feels more natural in her hands as if it was made for her and looks like it was meant to be.
Fittingly, Abril's getting to know of that secret-carrying cuff is a rather understated affair. The shadow lord wandering to a quiet corner before even daring to slip the cuff onto her arm.
The great crafter cant be seen blushing, his skin is already too rosy for that, but he does crook his finger in silence at Branton before walking off, bidding his kin-smith to follow him. Oh no, he's separating Branton from the herd! DOOM! But Mercy's following along as well, so probably not doom. It's up to the rest of you whether you keep up with them or hang back to get to know your new toys.
Either way, he leads Branton a ways through his never ending collection of offerings and self made crafts towards the heart of the volcano. In a central chamber there is located the beginning and the end. A great conglomeration of forge and kiln and loom. It reads as holy fuck amounts of dangerous even if you don't have danger sense as a merit. It's a place where life is forged or burned out of existence forever, the sheer power of creation tucked into this thing could warp or mutate, make or destroy. It's catastrophically powerful. Hakahe moves around near it like the vibe doesn't bother him though, gathering up a small stone cask and a set of tongs to begin placing coals from his forge into it. Eight of them, to be exact, and naturally that cask is going to end up in Branton's hands once he can pick his jaw up off the floor.
As for Mercy, she explains her need for a piece of the realm, but will have to wait for that to be drawn up and crafted. So there's time for everyone to dick around a bit, figure out how their stuff works, do target practice, whatever. There's a lot of testing room around here!
Branton follows when beckoned and is just stunned at what he's offered. He accepts of course and holds the case carefully. All wide eyed and 'holyshit'.
Jackie drifts along behind Branton and Mercy after a couple of minutes. She shows up with freshly wetted lips, holding the horn in both hands. "Oh, man, this is really just what I needed. Especially tonight."
