The Hut of Chicken Bone: Night of April 10th

[Rotipher of the FoS]

Suddenly there is more than one voice chanting--or is it only that Chicken Bone's voice has changed? Something has entered the room; you cannot see it, but you feel its presence, darker and more ominous than that of the storm outside.

The bard's startled perplexity, on beholding the Eye at his feet -- not darkness, sun be thanked, although it cannot wholly ease his doubts -- ebbs as the eerie new presence rises, uncoiling its menace within the hut. In the sweltering heat of the swamp, a coldness settles in the air. To keep from flinching away, Crow clings to pride in his professionalism: a lifeline against the sudden, dragging weight of primordial resentment -- a feral grudge against the upstart genus Man -- which the unseen presence bears in its wake.

Though he knows but little of loa, and less still of the rituals which invoke their presence, the wave of dark emotions heralding the visitant's arrival resonates with a familiar syncopation. Like Crow's, the voodan's magic is that of manifested passions and persuasion, not rote ceremony or procedure; an analogous wellspring of liberated feeling is shared between them, for all that Chicken Bone's power pours in from without, and the bard's ushers out from within.

(The commonality is subtle, but it saves him. Had the spy not sensed that it is not truly blood which feeds this bayou-birthed magic, but loosed devotion for which sacrifice is but a catalyst, the long-suppressed terror Buchvold mistakes for fury might have claimed him, despite amnesia's refuge! But the evils that had ruled and devoured Crow's past were not to blame for this snake-toothed malignancy.)

"Ton...gensssss..."

After a confused moment you realize that Chicken Bone is speaking, but this is not his voice; he is staring at Serd, arm raised and pointed at him--in accusation? Or merely in indication?

The chilling voice's inhuman sibilants bring another twinge to the bard's wrists, but his placement within the tableau sets both Draxton and the voodan in his field of view. Thus, the bard can see at once it is not to him that Chicken Bone's words -- or were they, really? -- are directed. Nor can their intended recipient be accounted any great surprise: while he has good hopes for Kingsley, and even the Borcan has his strengths, no act of Serd's to date had debunked Crow's first-meeting intuition that the merchant from Richemulot is already damned.

Recollecting that the veve at his feet suggests his own damnation is not set in stone, the spy glances down again. Thus, he witnesses how the light of the Eye bleeds and flows away, drawn to Chicken Bone as the old voodan falls, contorts as if in seizure, then relaxes as the Oracle's spirit displaces le serpente.

After a moment he rises, slowly, and speaks again, in a thin, cracked voice more like his own--but still subtly different.

"Excuse-moi, m'sieurs, madame," he says, making the faintest suggestion of a bow. "Deduis que me cherchez?"

Breathing out in relief -- though fairly certain, by now, that his blood's gift has not bound him to evil, hearing is believing -- the bard bows low to the voodan's new inhabitant, and a whispered Romèrsi passes his lips, in unbidden gratitude that his sacrifice has gone to Destiny's avatar, not some malign spirit of the mire.

[Pamela]

Gertrude shivered as she heard the second voice. Blessed sun… She felt the change in the room, though whether it was coming from Chicken Bone or some other direction, she couldn’t see- and perhaps, didn't want to.

The professor startled at the clap of thunder, and again shuddered as she heard the hiss, and saw the voodan pointing at Serd. The Serpent King went through her head as she heard the sibilant voice, and she turned to look at the Richemuloise, wondering if the reference to the servant applied to one of the two men below, or to someone else. Better him than me, was an undercurrent, glad to be spared the yellow-eyed, reptilian gaze.

When the voodan fell, her first instinct was to approach, but she held herself back, recalling anew the tales of possession and the ‘riding’ of the loa. As he rose, Gertrude was briefly distracted by an absence of light. She turned towards Crow, and realised that the glyph beneath his feet had grown dimmer. Aaah…

She made a curtsey, keeping within her circle, unsure as to what the consequences might be if she did step out. “Merci, monseigneur,” she said, careful to pronounce the title properly, unable to contain her wonder at the moment. Whether loa were spirits or small gods, she had no idea and at this moment didn't care. All that mattered was that the proper respect was shown. “Pour l’honneur du votre presence et aide. S’il v’s plaît, p’vez-vous n’s dire qui a porte cet anneau ce soir?”*

*Thank you, monseigneur (my lord), for the honour of your presence and aid. Please, could you tell us who wore this ring tonight?"

[alhoon]

he is staring at Serd, arm raised and pointed at him--in accusation? Or merely in indication? For a moment his eyes glow yellow; then he convulses, dropping his candle and falling to the floor.

That is not good, not good at all. Draxton almost reaches in his spell component pouch... almost. He doesn't realize what is happening and why the old goat (or the loa chevaling him) pointed at him but he didn't like the attention. He knew he hadn't done anything bad, but that doesn't mean the others would know and even if they realize they may use the incident to their favor in his expense.

PS: Spot 19.

[Coan]

Changing the subject, Hiro looks up into the tree and away from his scroll.

"I hope they are safe. For what they appear to be I find them ill equipped and trained." he says "What are your takes you two?"

[steveflam]

Tarlyn looks up, then ponders Hiro's words a moment before answering. "Well in all honesty I deem only the woman remotely prepared and worthy of my respect. The others would all sell their mother's for a gold coin. She seems to know what she is doing and compared to any other woman I have seen here in this land has an opinion and speaks it, of which I find remarkable."

[VAN]

Dadrag chucles and says:

"I doubt any of them actually knows much about the gentleman upstairs, his methods etc. I believe they came over here in order to get some answers. As about the woman, I agree with Tarlyn, she knows how to move at a place like this really well. I mean, she knows the language, has important acquitances and knows how to get respected. I bet that she will be the one who will do all the talking."

[Coan]

"Oh she'll do the talking. But whether she has anything to say is another matter. It seems we think differently, I find her too loud and outspoken, she doesn't pay attention to those who know better -arrogance. If anyone is to be played the fool... I think it her."

Hiro's words are harse but the hint of something more seems there, like a past wrong or pain he re-lives through her eyes. He obviously has something against her to form such an opinion when compared to his more usual lairze afaire' attitude.

[steveflam]

Tarlyn smiles at Hiro's assessment. "Well Hiro where I come from my society is based on women rule and men follow. So that is why I find her so refreshing. I do not agree with it and found myself leaving it alot for travel and patrols. The Spider Queen is merciless to the Priestesses and our society seem to be foolish in depending on her much to my dismay."

Tarlyn stops to let the others absorb his words. I wonder if Hiro will guess who the Spider Queen is although Dadrag already knows my true face, he may not know what I am

[Coan]

Hiro's eyes narrow for a moment at the words 'Spider Queen'.

"A fugitive from persecution of your religion you claim? How did you come to be here friend?"

[steveflam]

How did you come to be here friend?"

Tarlyn smiles at Hiro "By the mists like any other outlander, Hiro. Why else would I even want to visit this godforsaken land. I am in no way a fugitive from my religion, as I don't practice it and find those who do worship it zealously as any other people would would worship a deity blindly, fools. I can think of many things I'd rather do that worship a deity. Theology is not of my interest, it is rather low on my list of priorities as a matter of fact." Tarlyn stops a moment then continues. "In all honesty I find myself here after I was on a mission with a patrol, the mists came and took me to Barovia. That is how I got here."

"You have heard of the Spider Queen, Hiro? Do tell. I was almost positive that there was only this "Ezra" I have only heard of but know nothing about. The woman thinks I was being coy but I was serious in my question to her about Ezra".

[VAN]

Dadrag listens with attention Hiro's words and says:

"I agree with you too my friend, she seems arrogant and pretends to know everything but that is rare for a woman. I have never met one like her before. I have to admit that she makes me nervous, but I respect her."

[Nathan of the FoS]

She made a curtsey, keeping within her circle, unsure as to what the consequences might be if she did step out. “Merci, monseigneur,” she said, careful to pronounce the title properly, unable to contain her wonder at the moment. Whether loa were spirits or small gods, she had no idea and at this moment didn't care. All that mattered was that the proper respect was shown. “Pour l’honneur du votre presence et aide. S’il v’s plaît, p’vez-vous n’s dire qui a porte cet anneau ce soir?”*

"Ah, oui, le anneau," Chicken Bone replies, sucking at his lower lip as he turns to the altar. "C'est beaucoup superbe, non? Mais beaucoup froid..."

Picking it up, he peers through it, as if through a telescope, at each of you. "Un anneau de ceci espece toujours cause une marque, ne c'est pas, me ami?" This last is directed at Crow, although apparently the Oracle intends it as a rhetorical question; without waiting for an answer he sets down the ring. "Il que a l'oeil pour voir, que voit! C'est mi don; le desire recevoir?" Again, the mild, friendly eyes turn toward Crow, awaiting an answer.

*Oh, yes, the ring. It's very beautiful, isn't it? But very cold.

*A ring like this always makes a mark--isn't that right, my friend? He who has eyes to see, let him see! That's my gift; do you accept it?

[Pamela]

Why cold, Gertrude wondered to herself, wondering if it was referring to the dark symbolism of the ring itself, or to its previous bearer. She didn’t dwell upon the question; she was too busy studying the phenomenon before her eyes. She repressed a smile at the odd, child-like way that he used the ring to study them, This stirred a memory, and a light pang touched her heart, then caused her features to grow suddenly stern in an unconscious self-defence.

She relaxed a little as the voodan/loa’s attention focused upon the bard, and she blinked at the question, and offer. What kind of gift…? She was suddenly aware that she had no idea whether Crow or Serd understood Souragnien. She turned to her friend, and in a quiet murmur, translated the final remark and request into Mordentish. Awe and concern were clear in her tone and expression; she was eager to know what was being offered, but worried about the potential cost and the effect.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

His habitual jaunty demeanor reasserting itself, now that his discomfort with the voodan's blood-sacrifice has been assuaged, the bard shoots a quick, twinkle-eyed wink at Kingsley -- Enjoying the show, madam? It's your moment of glory: by all means, savor it! -- and then promptly heeds his own advice, bowing once again to the loa-ridden Chicken Bone, in the ostentatious Souragnien manner.

"Avec tous nos remerciements, j'accepte, monseigneur."*

Inwardly, he grins, happy to have caught the Professor by surprise. He wonders, too, how annoyed Buchvold will be as his facile command of the native dialect.

(Really, the Borcan could have asked 'Mr. Crow' if he'd spent enough time with Duchamps and his fellow blue-note maestros to acquire their speech, before spending all that effort at refreshing his own language-skills....)


[* - "With all our thanks, I accept, milord." At least, that's what AltaVista's babelfish claims it means. ]

[Coan]

How did you come to be here friend?"

"You have heard of the Spider Queen, Hiro? Do tell. I was almost positive that there was only this "Ezra" I have only heard of but know nothing about. The woman thinks I was being coy but I was serious in my question to her about Ezra".

"Oh there are many religions here in this world, you think a world like this could escape the false hope that worship brings? No. I've seen many churches and rituals more than half result in nothing more than tears and for those from ...the other side, well I've heard them speak of a great feeling of abandon as if their god doesn't see them here. I'd say its the same for your spider queen... although I do recall something..." Hiro's mind drifts for a moment and then he shakes himself and rests his arm on the large parcel next to him as he stands "But you wanted to know about Ezra? What about her? I try to ignore conversations that don't concern me and didn't hear your question before. What would you like to know?"