The start of a bad joke

[Morgan the 7th]

"Fishing. Heh, good luck with that in these parts, unless you've got wings and talons." She says, scoffing probably too loud. "Glyphing, huh? That's interesting. I've heard of it, a good skill. Not uh, dissimilar to my own trade."

She scratches her head again, maybe she got a bite of some sort. Oh yes, she things, a bite. In it mountains. "You don't know what malediction is? Really? Me and uh, my... daad.. We used to travel a lot, doing it for people for money. It was fine. He was a good man. He's dead now."

After a second of silence, she coughs again into her arm, "Well, basically, you give me some bones, and you tell me about the... person. Or pet. Then I basically carve their life story into the bones. Then they do uh, pertinent stuff. Like um. A veteran warrior's bones, I could tell a story about a battle in which they uh, took a bunch of damaging blows. Then maybe the bone will make you feel less pain. Or it could make you harder to hurt. Or I guess it could also give you chronic pain when you wore it. It all depends on the uh, circumstances."

"I've been practicing on animals, mostly goats. Goats are simple, easy to talk about. I once made a rib bracelet that made you 'baa' uncontrollably. Good fun, but uh... Not exactly... Sellable..." She turns away, staring off into the distance, perhaps lost in thought, or embarrassed. "The mountains sure are... uh..." She starts, trialing off, apparently not seeing it necessary to say exactly what the mountains sure were.

[Seren Coolwater]

Seren listened with interest to Morgan's exposition. A good storyteller must always be able to listen to those with stories of their own, after all. Listening with sympathy to Morgan's somewhat awkward trailing off, Seren barked with laughter at the goat story.

"That's incredible! I know a few people who would pay good money for that-- to put on someone else. Here's a hint: One of those people is me." Adopting a more somber tone, she says, "I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I know that the day my father dies..." She gave a bit of a shudder at this point.

Hearing Morgan say something about the mountains, she immediately hops on board. "Oh, yeah, they're absolutely gorgeous. I heard about this one dire eagle, I can't quite remember the name, but it was said that he was a Kelvic-- yeah, a Kelvic!" Continuing in her dramatic voice saved especially for storytelling, Seren went on,

"Now, as you probably know, there's a bit of a culture up here that involves dire eagles; or, I should say, the entire culture involves them. Anywho, this dire eagle gets bonded to a guy-- I swear I can't remember names for the life of me-- and they ascended through the ranks incredibly quickly. Apparently the two races have some sort of telepathy and communicate through that? I don't know a whole lot about it, but anyway-- the details don't matter-- turns out, nobody ever found out she was a Kelvic, not even her partn-" She stopped dead when she realized what she was doing.

"Er, sorry, I'm a windbag. I come from up North, like I said before. I left, though, because of-- er, well, because of reasons." Now her entire face, including eyes, red, Seren finally shut her mouth.

She'd always had trouble with secrets, especially her own. Telling was her pastime, and she was good at it. But that was a topic that she wasn't willing to broach with a stranger.

"But, enough about me.... What brings you to Wind Reach?"

[Morgan the 7th]

She hadn't ever heard the story she was trying to tell before, and tried to listen with interest. When the girl cut herself off, her shoulders may have slumped a little. Either way, she decided to answer the question simply, "Well. We were travelling. Then he died. Now I'm not traveling anymore."

She cringed a bit at such a short answer, she'd gone for simple, not curt. "Well, what I mean to say is... Me and... my father... Traveled a fair peck. He started to complain about headaches right when we first got here. It turned out to be uh, something. Anyway, he finished his last piece just a few months ago. Ever since, I've been having trouble leaving. Maybe it's just... Fate. Or something."

She continued to stare at the horizon, fixedly. Almost as if she were scanning, searching for something. But all the time, the far hills stayed the same, stern, solemn, and unchanging. "I guess I have no reason to leave. It's a sort of fresh market. People have just been throwing their dead in a pit, basically. Well, into the volcano. Turns out people, you know, miss their dead. Having something to remember them by, I guess it helps them to uh... Get closure. Or something."

The last bit caught her attention. "It's awfully cold out. Um, It's less cold in the city. Not that I guess you're uh... Very much... Bothered... hmmm.." Somewhat apropos, she shivered in the wind, pulling her jacket closer, and looking somewhat like a giant leather cocoon. "So what do you plan to do once you do get to the um... the city."

[Seren Coolwater]

Shivering along, it seemed as though Seren had broached a sensitive topic with Morgan's father. It was only fair that she give away a secret of her own.

"Well, I'm here on something of... A personal quest. I owe a great deal to the goddess Morwen, and I wanted to do something to prove my reverence to her. I couldn't do it while still in my Hold, so I decided to go to the next coldest place I had heard about-- here. Then, after a year or so, I'll go back to my Hold, and get an audience with her if I can. I'm hoping for a gnosis mark.... But we'll see how it goes, I guess."

As they continued in silence for a few moments, Seren contemplated this Morgan character. She was certainly strange, but in a very companionably way. Not to mention, the two of them together could be somewhat powerful mages. Or, at least able to hold their own in the Wilderness. Maybe she would pay Morgan to stick around with her? Or something. At the very least, she could maybe trade some very amateur scrolls in exchange for a maledicted item. Those sounded, to say the least, interesting.

[Morgan the 7th]

"Hm. Religion can be a... Powerful thing." She didn't ever really pick one god to worship. Really, she thinks, Morgan didn't either.

"My uh, most intimate encounter with the gods was... When um... I got sick. Real sick. I had bad uh, bad blood. We went to a largish city, the name escapes me, and went to a temple. The priests and priestesses healed me, which was nice of them."

Something more immediately important floated to the top of her stew of thoughts, that being the traps. "When we get there, there could be uh, an animal. We might have to finish it off. Are you uh, good with that?" She asks indicating with the bottom of her spear, still being used as an impromptu walking staff.

"My... Eh... My father carried a sword, one of the fancy ones from up here. I couldn't bear to keep it though, it had some powerful glyphs on it. He almost never used it, except once he used to shave, to uh, settle a bet." Again, her thoughts drifted to the past, and she cringed. "He was um... A good man."

[Seren Coolwater]

Hiding a good-hearted chuckle at Morgan's incapability of holding a conversation. "Yeah, I don't mind helping finish it off. We have to kill to eat, after all; as sad as that truth is, it is a truth nonetheless." Even still, her stomach squirmed a bit at the thought of killing the poor thing, whatever it may be.

At the mention of powerful glyphs, her stomach turned further. "Did he make them himself? I don't suppose he was like, a master glypher or something? Also, are you sure it was glyphed, and not Magecrafted?" Her Book had mentioned something to the effect of the two being often mixed up by the uninitiated, but it had said nothing else on Magecrafting. The thought of a powerful sword like that being discarded made her hands itch.

Finally, her stomach untwisting, she said, with another light laugh, "Hey, I can teach you a little something about telling stories, and you can teach me how to hunt. Does that sound okay?"

[Morgan the 7th]

"Well. It had glyphs on it. And it um... Was on fire sometimes. I think it was glyphed. I don't think he did it himself. He um... He said it was Morg-uh, his mother. Probably her fathers, too. And his mother's. Our family had a lot of heirloom artifacts. Most of then are scattered about, in lodgings all over. I should probably go uh, get them. When I can leave. If... Uh... I can.." She trails off again, closing her eyes for a long time.

"Huh? Uh. Yeah Ill show you um, a few things about hunting. But uh, I'm not interested in telling stories. I'm more interested in uh... Mh..."

She turns to inspect Seren again, eyeing her over. "First, put that cloak away, if you want. Uh, bright colors are... Bad... And stop stomping quite so loud. Try to keep your legs wide, so your pants don't scrape together, and keep your arms still. If you're uh, gonna use a sword, you should pad the mouth of your scabbard. The rasping is pretty loud. Seriously, stop stomping, are your feet made of lead or something? No see, your walking wrong. Step with your toes, not your heel." The torrent of disjointed commands went on. Over time, it became clear that the general gist was to be quiet, alert, and graceful. Too see without being seen, smelled, or felt. Or heard.

"Um. Here." She beings pointing at her horse. "This is um, where the heart is. If you have a bow, try to hit there. If um, your swinging a sword... Go for the thighs. Animals um... Have bigger back legs. They can't run with just their front..." She began petting Morgans thigh, staring into his weird, rectangular horse eyes. She was searching for something, probably.

"When I hunt, uh. There's a sort of... Second layer. Really that goes for everything. I don't find the goat IN the forest, I remove the forest, and only the goat remains." She turns, quickly gesticulating at the mountains all around. "There are mountains. But the mountain is... The surface. There's more. Untold uh... Lives. You can't see what is behind the mountain. Until you do. But then, you can't see the mountain. You have to see... Both. You have to see all of it, capture the whole... But then the whole can be nothing... Is there a life in that mountain? Or is it... Just... Rock. Mh."

Her eyes linger on the mountains, before she turns back, catches sight of Seren, and starts. Apparently, she had forgotten there was anyone else there.

[Seren Coolwater]

Seren reluctantly stored away her coat into one of the saddlebags, exposing her bare forearms, which immediately got covered in goosebumps from the cold. Whispering as best as she could, she asked Morgan, "Well, what is it that you are interested in? I'm not much good at anything except talking, but I'd be willing to help you out with whatever."

Receiving no reply, she decided to try to walk in silence. Her boots were no help, and she was just about as clumsy on the forest floor as an infant; twigs creaked and snapped with every step; the dirt plumed upward and outward from her. And, despite being depraved of her favorite coat that smelled so much like her father, she still gave off a soapy smell that would alert any creature with half of a nose within 20 feet.

When they stopped, it appeared as though Morgan wanted to show her some more tips. For a moment, Seren thought Morgan was going to give an ACTUAL demonstration using her horse, but she just pointed out the areas while she talked.

Finally, it seemed as though Morgan was talking to no one. Her advice made absolutely no sense. Removing the forest and mountain? Sounds like a job for a master Voider... Of course, Seren knew (sort of) what she was trying to say, but it was still a definite possibility in her mind that Morgan was suffering from "Chronic pain issues" and needed some "Medication." She tried her earlier question again,

"So, I'd like to give you something in return for helping me out with this hunting thing. My one real skill is telling tales and whatnot, but I'd be willing to offer something else if you want? What are you interested in?"

[Morgan the 7th]

"Uh. Tell me everything you know about... History. I need to know all the stories. So I can write them. Mh.." She was thinking about how to explain it, that malediction wasn't really storytelling. And yet it was the most intimate form of storytelling possible. It's complicated in that way, shed think.

"Hey, stop. Look, see that stick. Step on it. Yeah it breaks. Okay, now like. Hm. Do you know how to glidestep? It's a dance, its not important, but the idea is to uh... Give the... Illusion. The illusion of walking, without walking. You um... Hm.. Okay, put all your weight on one leg. Now, move your other leg forward. Is it on a twi- okay see, you have to keep all your weight on one leg. Try again. Again. Again. Yes. Good. Now move your weight to that leg, and do it with the other leg. Okay. See now, do that."

She stares straight forward, now. The trap is just a ways up. She already knew what was in it. The tracks, the bark on a tree or two. There was a stag in there, incredibly rare up in the mountains. In fact, shed thought mountain stag were extinct. Something about a large, powerful, slow mating creature that ate plants didn't work in the frozen hills.

The approached the trap, and sure enough, there was a stag, its leg trapped in a noose and broken the clean white point of its humorous sticking out, harsh and sanguine against the dusting of snow and dirt that covered the ground and bursh.

Looking at it, Morgan felt like she knew it already. It's name was unknowable, but it was proud. It'd come here searching for stashed nuts, and was driven wild by its antlers. He had no struggle left, he'd tried, but there was nothing left. It wouldn't survive the hour, and it approached the end with dignity, not frenzy nor sedation.

"Your sword, ma'am," Morgan holds out her hand. "A noble implement to levy ignoble deeds on the most noble of creatures. It must be right."

[Seren Coolwater]

"Er, I only retell hearsay, Morgan. I'm nothing near a historian. I make up stories, or I tell stories other people have made up. The only history I'm even close to knowledgeable in is Avanthal history, and even that is spotty at best."

Done talking, Seren concentrated her efforts on taking each step carefully, but somewhat quickly. Morgan's words didn't make a whole lot of sense, but they got the general idea across, and her example was easy to learn by. Taking such care, she didn't notice the stag until she had nearly tripped on it.

It was a strange, beautiful, somber sight. The creature leaked majesty, but also the ruby color of blood. Almost a beautiful sight, blood is one of those rare things that are beautiful and dangerous at the same time.

Seeing Morgan's outstretched hand, and hearing her request, Seren hesitates for just a moment. That's my only weapon.... But I suppose she probably doesn't know that. And I still have my novice Voiding to use, but it likely won't come to that. She unsheathes the sword as quietly as she can, so as not to disturb the already dying beast, and places the hilt in Morgan's hand.

Looking into the stag's eyes, Seren says, "Pechit ala," and gives a nod to Morgan.