A discussion on what was discussed at the end of last time: it was in Paul’s Tawesek dream. “You’ve been thinking about this from the beginning, haven’t you?” How Paul’s hammer can imbue the elements into tools.
Balz weaved the wind. Bran played the flute (referencing songs at creation)
Ives loves the texture of things. Silas: When did it start? He’s not even very conscious of it. He’s always just sort of touching things and running his fingers through things. Not sure, always been tactile. They would all talk about the task at hand “I weave baskets, I weave cloth.” It’s not so much a science, but an art.
Silas hangs with Ives. Ives spends a lot of time with the goats. So does Silas.
“If you have no problems, get a goat”
“If it doesn’t hold water, it won’t hold a goat.”
Halberd asks permission to use those proverbs. (Nice.)
Silas also learns the knitting and weaving of wool and is able to create a pretty excellent felt hat, although doesn’t see deeper into the process.
We talk as a party on what our next steps. Storr would like to take the hammer and learn more about how to use it in concert with the wind and the weaving. We could possibly also take a basket with us and “fuck around and find out” about how to use the hammer with it.
Storr presents the hammer. “What do you think?”
“This is a tool of more use than most. I suspect it can do many things.”
We ask for a basket. They hand us a basket.
If it’s well woven, it will hold the song for a long time. Branwen approves of the basket.
Before we depart, Silas offers the helm to Ives.
“Ives, I truly appreciate your hospitality these past few days, and I am happy to have found, if I may be so bold, a friend in you. As a token of my gratitude, I want to give you this.” Here, I present to him Mannix’ helm. “It once belonged to a companion of ours, who ventured out with us on this journey, but fell during a vicious battle. He hadn’t yet discovered his purpose, but from what he told us, I believe, like you, he was interested in what nature could teach us, and specifically what the wind has to say. The Bone Flute that the raven one played the other day also belonged to him. A lovely sound. But I hope this helm will remind you of our time here, and of little Arthen and me. I can’t ask anything in return, you’ve allowed me so much already. But, if you do have any of those nice woollen hats laying around, I’d very much appreciate the gift.”
He’s indebted to you. I don’t think I would wear it on a regular basis. Instead, I will trade you a felt hat for the one you made and smoke a pipe and think of pipe. . He says, one moment, and goes to get a very nice one that he has made. Not totally sure, but there may be something to this hat. Ives looks forward to wearing the hat, smoking a pipe and watching the sunset.
We make our way to Raven Island by boat. Sheer rock walls coming straight out of the sea.
We depart in the morning. Weather is partly cloudy, wind but no whitecaps.
Storr has a climber’s kit.
Silas and Arthen hang back and keep the boat running. Not too keen on encroaching on the space of a giant bird.
Branwen and Storr pack their weapons and leave everything else. In short: it’s lady’s night (morning)
Storr is top rope, but peels off and falls back into the water and takes some damage. Storr makes it the second time. Branwen falls as well, but not as far and takes not as much damage.
Storr makes it up the next pitch, and so does Branwen.
Last pitch for Storr, and she nails it. She gets over the lip and ties off. Branwen also makes it.
Skree, boulders, low bushes. It’s noontime.
Storr’s on the look out for animal remains. Branwen considers fucking around and finding out with her raven, but says, “Fuck it, let’s juts found out,” and they go.
They head uphill. As they get closer, we hear some rustling in the nest, some noise.
IT’S RAVEN TIME. Bran can see and hear what the raven does within 100 feet. They get that close. She sees… a big nest. Inside is a raven pushing some twigs and doing some maintenance on the nest. It’s quite large. Body standing on two legs with wings folded would be taller than Bran, an ROUS*
(*Raven of unusual size)
Bitches be rolling. Shania Twain plays, and Storr and Branwen Predator handshake.
The raven sees Koweth and croaks warningly at him. Koweth retreats and flies back to Bran.
Bran is going to advance slowly with Koweth, walking slowly, humming her (Cricket’s lullabye) song, with her hands calmly up.
Songs that Bran knows:
Song heard at her birth, Cricket’s lullabye
Song in Gale that one of the birds played on the island (bird song)
More information: [[Songs|http://osgog.mrobinson.us/index.php/Songs]]
At this the raven flaps its wings and sends a burst of wind her way and yells at her in a loud squawk.
Storr has speak with animals. Branwen asks Storr to introduce her. Storr comes forward and places her weapons on the ground and casts speak with animals.
Why are you bringing these spells to my nest?
Branwen stops humming.
Bran represents Mother Night and we share a bond and a common cause.
I am the night wind. I don’t need you.
(Aside:
Why did we come her Storr?
It’s a giant raven! I figured you’d want to come here!)
I’ve been tasked with Mother Night to be her eyes and ears. Has he seen anything on the night wind that she should know?
Raven hops up. “I come from the night that has no mother. I’m older than your puny human thoughts.” The raven hops down and grabs Storr’s implements, and manages to grab them.
Storr apologizes and says we’re looking for Bremphyr and we thought perhaps a wise old raven would be able to direct us.
“The winds are always hungry, and you should go. Now.”
Bran is getting the vibe that maybe this isn’t the raven she has seen in her visions.
Do you know Bargos?
The raven hops up again, screams, and gives them another buffet of wind, which the gals withstand.
The raven has Storr’s weapons (Kelghein is still in the boat), but despite this, Storr and Branwen bravely run away, away.
They get back to the boat. We make a bunch of silence of the lambs puns about baskets (also: “I’d flock me.” – TM)
Ives’ goats continually try and get at the helm on a shelf, trying to lick the goose fat off.
We got here with purple gem with blue lobe at the head.
We journey
Branwen: Lookout
Storr: Hunter
Silas: Guide
Silas: (Travel, 9) We’re out at sea. Storr catches an enormous swordfish and hangs it on the sid, but unfortunately it’s eaten by sharks and we can’t salvage any of it. Arthen is incredibly dejected. Storr throws him the head. He taps it with his head, and continues sulking.
Silas: Travel (18), Branwen at the end of the scond day she sights some clouds that indicate land and we;re insight of a another island.
We see wooded hills on this edge that we’re approaching , a littel flatter off to the eastern side. It’s evening of the second day. We head to shore. There’s strand, it looks granidic. Rounded stones ona beach. A few big boulders scattered around. The forest is dense, the tree roots are holding soil at the edge of the beach, a little undercut by the wave action.
We bring up the boat as far up the beach as we can. Wether is partly cloudy, some wind, nothing stormy. We wade up to shore.
Silas takes 2 mothergrabbing levels of exhaustion.
We see no sharks teeth. Branwen says “Fuck this place. Back on the boat.”
Branwen sends koweth up but can’t see much more.
It’s evening, and we hike up the hill. We make it up to the top. We see below us a plane, something reflecting out there a large lake, not totally sure. It’s dark, and Silas struggled to get through the underbrush. It’s midnight.
We wake up to beautiful sunshine. The foliage is dense, old forest. Sloping down on the far side form we came, chunks of rock, still damp, rocks with roots. We can pick our way through in whatever direction we choose.
We try the telescope (Branwen), focusing on the shimmer from last night. B concludes that there seems to be a body of water down there, north, north east of us. Can’t tell the shape. We’re in a forest, can’t see out far. We idle until later afternoon so Silas can rest and can shed one level of exhaustion. Bran and Storr range. B goes an hour east on her own. Storr does the same in the opposite direction.
Bran doesn’t see any signs of human building. Rocks are big enough where there are cavities, squierrls running into the ground, but now real caverns. Heads downhill, flattens out, rolling terrain.
Storr heads west, more of the same landscape, a little wetter, comes across a spring in between a couple of hills, has potentially at times been cleared by someone, but hard to tell. She follows that trickle a ways to a swamp. Maples, brush little eyelets growing there.