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[Harry Baldman]

"Words and gifts," repeats Immanuel Jade, unusually flushed from the trip here, grinning with his sunken, toothless mouth closed as he looks right through the entirety of the horsefolk camp, eyes fixated on the horizon. "I can offer you the gifts of a song and a mystery. Which would you like, and in what measure?"

[Dwarmin]

"Words and gifts," repeats Immanuel Jade, unusually flushed from the trip here, grinning with his sunken, toothless mouth closed as he looks right through the entirety of the horsefolk camp, eyes fixated on the horizon. "I can offer you the gifts of a song and a mystery. Which would you like, and in what measure?"

"We already have many people offering songs. A mystery is an interesting gift. I suspect you will keep the solution to yourself. A good storyteller keeps the ending in suspense. Still, give me enough of a story to wonder for a ten-day, and we will be well met...you pass. Still..."

He takes another sideways glance at Immanuel, his dark eyes glittering oddly.

"...You should not be here, you know. You won't be here for long. The fire you carry is very hungry. My kind can see. You should drop it. My advice."

[Harry Baldman]

"...You should not be here, you know. You won't be here for long. The fire you carry is very hungry. My kind can see. You should drop it. My advice."

"Would that I could," the Jade replies in a mildly contemptuous tone, clearly having heard that line before. "It would be very simple if I could," he sighs, his voice a deep rasp. "But I cannot, and so I will not."

"Luckily for your purposes, spirit person, I will not stay here long at all. Just long enough," he gives a sidelong glance to the others. "And as for my mystery, satisfaction is not guaranteed. Unlike with my songs," he smiles purely with his mouth.

[Dwarmin]

"You can drop it any time. Just open your hand. It wants to go. It will go. You won't be here long." He repeats, a trifle relentlessly...it's entirely possible he's talking literally.

[Harry Baldman]

"You can drop it any time. Just open your hand. It wants to go. It will go. You won't be here long." He repeats, a trifle relentlessly...it's entirely possible he's talking literally.

"I wonder," states Immanuel Jade emptily, tilting his head.

Action: Immanuel Jade begins to open his hand, and a spectral image of his phalanges, perhaps intentionally constructed, perhaps not, emanates from it, surging forward to touch the horse-person.

[Dwarmin]

((Huh, beginning hostilities already? Oh dear.))

The Horsefolk's mildly amused glower, turns to true alarm as Immanuel Jades spectral hand surges forward. The whole group can see it at it bathes the scene in an eerie green glow, and all of them feel immediately uneasy in it's presence.

"You do this thing, you are no..." He starts.

~The Horsefolk can not draw back quickly enough, and the bone-hand touches him on the shoulder.

He screams in pain, writhing under the touch!

There is the sound of hasty movement, bitter curses, and the arming of weapons in the other tents.

...

The rain continues to fall, harder than before. It is now true night. No sun, no stars-just the full storm dark.
 

[Tiruin]

BACK IN THE PAST...

Hiraya noticed the transport and its staff were all but decrepit in the heat--and the bandits were pretty much far enough a-ways that to approach them on grounds of discussion would be...delicately unintelligent. She wiped the sweat of her brow and silently went along with the rest--her goal would be reached, but better in good company. Their stories would make good passing time along the lonely road, and the comfort of the saddle was like a sweet memory long past.

She was glad she learned to ride when she was young, lest the common problems of an untrained rider arise.

Action: Pick out a -nice- horse and grab anything from the carriage as a utilitarian memento. Like something shiny but light to direct the sun's rays, either for navigation of to try to start a fire...

((Hold on reading up! But there are REPLIES D: Important replies!))

[Harry Baldman]

"So you have no answers for me?" Immanuel Jade says with mild surprise, shaking his head. "You have... lied?"

He looks on the downed spirit person a moment, seemingly genuinely confused by this result.

"It makes sense, in a way... but... my apologies..." he says, then starts to look around in an alarmed fashion.

After a moment, he turns to the others.

"That was... a terrible error on my part. I thought he would..." he glances at the writhing horseperson, a half-smile appearing on his face as his thoughts begin to wander. "That he would... yes. I must think on this. Explain yourselves to them or follow, or... do what you will."

Action: withdraw the hand and proceed away from the encampment perpendicularly to our previous path at a decent clip.

[Dwarmin]

"So you have no answers for me?" Immanuel Jade says with mild surprise, shaking his head. "You have... lied?"

The fellow is in too much pain to make much of a retort...and any chance of answers has faded with ringing of drawn blades.

"You...will not...be here...you...will not...be...anymore...please, let it go..." He mutters.

Action: withdraw the hand and proceed away from the encampment perpendicularly to our previous path at a decent clip.

However-the Horsefolk that arrive from the tents are more pathetic, than fearsome. They have no warriors anymore. About fifteen in all. Colts too young to known how to swing an axe, or shoot a bow, cowering behind their parents. Old stallions and mares with withered knuckles, and laming wounds. Most of them are unarmed, or barely armed-only one has a ancient widesnout rifle clutched in tired fingers-it looks as old as the one wielding it, not mentioning it probably wouldn't fire in the rain. This is all that is left of them, of the Horsefolk.

...

Still, they halfheartedly pursue in a ragged group anyone who chooses to leave, tossing curses in their rough tongue. A few mis-aimed stones fly his way, but none strike for serious harm.

"A man runs away...a coward...a hand of white fire...why do you do this thing...a black heart...look...around him...the fire...stone...around him, a pale white fire...he will not be here...He has no heart...steel...kill him...let him go...not here, not there, not where...maybe he will die in the rain...he won't be here much longer...he was with them...go away, you will leave us in peace...I should kill him...go back...let him go...let him be...won't be much longer..."

Eventually, they break off as the leader among them exorts them to help their wounded friend-trotting back to the camp, flicking water from their tails.

A shame, and the weathers getting worse.

...

Those who choose to stay face a wounded host, and an angry mob. Your 'host' seems to have been knocked out by the agony of whatever that horrible man inflicted upon him. One of the few younger Horse Folk seems to take charge in his absence, his wild red hair soaked in the rain. He turns to whomever is left, if any. He begins to rile up his folk, whats left of them...but in truth, he seems to know the odds and is obviously unwilling to start a fight with armed strangers.

"You bring him here. This is trouble. We offered no violence. You should go. Down the road with your friend. The one who will not be. That is a good thing." he says, his tones undeniably angry.

[Playergamer]

Sal stood in the back of the group, and watched the horse people with interest. He carefully edged his way inside, along with the others, and took off his hat, holding it in his left hand. He looked around the inside, listening to the others make their offers, and slowly slides back to watching the Jade and the horse talk. Suddenly, the Jade...Sal wasn't quite sure what the Jade did, but he dropped a hand to the revolver on his hip, shouting over the horse's screams.

"The hell are you doing, Jade?"

The cowboy watched, shocked into silence, as the Jade walked away, and the horsemen begin to crowd around. The young man slowly nods, and steps out, donning his hat again. As he walks out, he mutters to himself.

"Bet that damn fool spooked the horses, too."

[Harry Baldman]

As Immanuel Jade moves away, he seems to be entirely ignoring the mob of horsefolk, the stones not a particular concern to him. His shadow grows long and dark on horseback, drawing back toward the pursuers, lengthening, then shortening in small pulses, each accompanied by a small, predatory movement the Jade himself does not appear to be making.

[SeriousConcentrate]

"What the hell, Jade?" Vic facepalmed with her remaining hand. Looks like their shot at shelter and rest for the night just got ruined, and for what, she did not know.

Victoria goes with Sal.

[Dwarmin]

She was glad she learned to ride when she was young, lest the common problems of an untrained rider arise.

Action: Pick out a -nice- horse and grab anything from the carriage as a utilitarian memento. Like something shiny but light to direct the sun's rays, either for navigation of to try to start a fire...

Btw

Hiraya picks out the best horse of the bunch-a young, spirited, apple red charger. Judging by her willful nature, she was probably a ranging mount, not used to pulling carriages around. She seems happy as you lead her away...

You should giver her a name!

As for the memento, Hiraya plucks a reflective disc from one of the electric torch sconces. It should serve nicely.

[Dwarmin]

As Immanuel Jade moves away, he seems to be entirely ignoring the mob of horsefolk, the stones not a particular concern to him. His shadow grows long and dark on horseback, drawing back toward the pursuers, lengthening, then shortening in small pulses, each accompanied by a small, predatory movement the Jade himself does not appear to be making.

Forever alone, Immanuel departs from both the Horsefolk and the others who had accompanied him, thinking strangers thoughts of his own...

...

~!

The weather seems to become steadily worse and worse. First the winds pick up, after the rain turns cold as ice, and then the hailstones start rattling down. A nagging voice of sanity in the back of his mind might smugly note he could have avoided all this with the equivalent of a roof over his head, or maybe he's lost to that voice already. In any case, reality seems to be intruding on whatever he is thinking. He can't help but think whatever he might be becoming, he is still mortal right now. He could still die. Even from a rain chill, as the Horsefolk had warned him of. He does seem to be developing a steady cough. He keeps an eye out.

His first sign of any shelter on the road, is to the East. A long, low wooden building located some distance off the road he is on, without so much as a footpath leading to it-it's hidden back in a small depressed canyon, further camouflaged by a grove of leafy shrubs that seem odd to have grown in this dry region. It could be, or was, some sort of barn-or a sawmill, perhaps. It's fairly well hidden from the road, actually. You could just about what by and never see it...unless you were a Jade, who knows to look for such things. He can't make out much more without daring to approach.

[Harry Baldman]

Action: Immanuel Jade dares to approach. He looks for secret signs on the walls, the parlance of the illiterate traveler, or other things to provide signs to the knowledgeable seeker.