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[AbstractTraitorHero]

Ara talks idily with anyone who chooses to approach her.

[Romans]

"Do both and get a healer, God's guide me and help my trusted mune" Assist with pulling the thing off if necessary, slice off the tentacles when the fire is applied.

[Roboson]

Moreau laughs. Ha! Both you and I know that cannot and won't happen. Our people have come too far and sacrificed too much to return to a homeland that is being ravaged by a cruel enemy. If we have found a new enemy in you then so be it! We will not leave. I will not leave. We will spread across this land and by the sheer strength and number of our footfalls, we will make it welcome us or we will trample it beneath us. The Invici will be blight or boon Bladis Flame-Father, you shall decide which. Moreau stared deep into the eyes of the dying man, his piercing blue eyes were so cold and hard that it seemed to the onlooking Godi that Moreau was looking straight through the man and into the eyes of the god. This man will not die. If he does, then our roles are decided. Moreau motioned for a healer to tend to the dying man and continued staring deep into his dying eyes, waiting for a response from the deity.

[sackhead]

"Oxeni! get everyone who's not a warrior away from this place. You there go get fetch a godi or a magician. The master of war is indeed a great warrior but we have no idea how strong this creature is"

[Dwarmin]

Tyra regarded the idol somberly. It was as much old memory that infused her, as present worries...it was one thing to speak of raising children to make better future. Her own past hopes in that regard had died many years ago, along with her husband. She had always supposed there would be more time...but, there hadn't been anyone else she ever felt the same for. A bitter thing to accept, that no living man could compete with a ghost...still, she felt the power of the idol was positive-warmth, family, love. Was it an omen? Had she been too proud to find another, dwelling on old grief, lingering in the house of the Dead? Things to think about...

She took a long moment to compose herself. She was, by nature, not inclined to show emotion to others. Tyra wished no one to know of her thoughts.

...

The craftswoman, while more aged than most, acts as a scared child when explaining to Tyra the nature of the idol.

Tyra briefly wondered if the woman was merely an instrument, or something more. A hand moved by the Gods, or the tool in the hand of the Gods?

"Thank you for your help in this manner, kinswoman. You seem to have been chosen as a messenger..." She said, complimenting her with obvious praise. "...You don't need to be afraid. If others confront you tell them that Tyra Firescar has divined this truth-your idol was infused with pure goodly energy. The energy of life itself. I don't believe the Gods would choose anyone without a truly pure heart to cast such a potent enchantment through them. Go forth knowing you worked a miracle, and are free of any accusation of wispcraft or sorcery.

Though, be sure not to grow overproud. Many blessings come with banes, and you may never find quite the same perfection in your hands as you did this night, when the Gods moved you to create with such passion and skill-you may search for it, but never find it in the span of your mortal years...though, I for one, hope you do. We must never stop striving." Tyra said, kindly yet firmly.

...

Afterwards, she decided it would best to consult the Godi of Misra. Didn't Misra hold the White Staff, and know the truth of all things? Tyra had been considering telling that story this very night, in truth.

About the Tree of Wisdom and the Tree of Life, and the bargain that Misra and Wisp one cold night-whomsoever claimed a branch without falling to the Earth, would make the others staff. Wisp had been foiled in her attempt to fashion a branch of the Tree of Life-to fashion it into an Implement of Death, she had tried to pry a large branch, from the highest reaches, but fell and hurt her back...

Misra had won, yielding Wisp to create the Staff of Knowledge-she had merely taken a fallen branch from the ground, smaller and less grand. A tale of humility and honesty. Of course, there was also the story about how the branch from the Tree of Knowledge had come to be knocked down in the first place. That one was well loved of those who followed Baxter, a more humorous tale...

Action: Go take the Idol to a trusted Godi of Misra, to assess it's holiness and nature. Perhaps it might even be a treasure of some sort!

[Chevaleresse]

Layleth grabs her bow and holds an arrow to the string, not drawing the weapon but ready to do so. "This is foul magic. . . Kinsman, fetch a godi, immediately. There are dark forces abound." She also watches the other two Truthseekers for signs of the magic affecting them.

[Silcugar]

TRAINING GROUNDS
^{|NIX, LAYLETH, KRON|}

Kron and Layleth's commands are swept up deftly, several scouts among the crowd sprint in different directions to find godi and magicians, while the Oxeni set up a protective perimeter around the fight.

The enchanted warrior reels back with the power or your attack. However, you find that your fist has been engulfed by the new mouth, latching you in place! The man continues to transform, growing a second set of arms. "The winds of strife blow both ways, godless!" he yells as a flurry of punches assail your ribs and gut. After his rage subsides, he punches you hard enough to send you flying backwards, now released from his vicegrip. "Tell me again about honour, 'Master.' If you can still speak."

You're tough enough to remain conscious after the assault, if just barely. As the montrosity marches towards you, you hear a distant, faint battlecry. The clamour of ethereal footmen bolster your resolve. Bade is coming!

ABANDONED QUAY
^|LEON|

Both men run at your command, and those that remain try to pry the creature off of the Mune. As you support the others, you notice your Mune's eyes turn a deep black. "Wha-- I can't see! I can't..." She falls unconscious. Her blood seems to slow as her body gains an unlife-chill...

But the whispers of hope can be heard in the distance. All of the men helping the Mune are stopped dead in motion, eyes locked behind you. A coarse hand gently pats your shoulder. "I am here to help." The voice strikes your heart with awe... It is Morgane, the Healer!

FIREPIT
^{|TYRA, ARA|}

The craftswoman is overwhelmed by your praise. "Thank you, Master. I was caught by fear but... you are right. I will try my hardest to continue forward. We all will." An earnest din of praise comes from those nearby, ready to spread the word of the blessing that occurred today.

Ara engages in some small talk, but it doesn't get her anywhere! Perhaps a more proactive approach is necessary.
 

MAGIC CIRCLE
^|TYRA|

Tyra, seeking those closest to Misra, natural found herself at the magic circle, where the few eccentric, powerful magicians of the clan discuss issues and devise incantations. Though they are a proud and odd-willed folk, they show humility in your presence. An attendant godi approaches. "Master of Tales. We've heard of your ascendance to the position. These are chaotic times... What did you need from us?"

You explain the situation! Intense Action!

"This is indeed a powerful treasure. As the Good Drake says, 'A treasure of foreigners is a treasure all the same.' The clan can use this in several ways, Master. We can sacrifice it to learn more of these foreign gods, but they may not react well; we can create a shrine for it, so as to show tentative respect to these foreign gods, though I'm unsure how our gods will react; or we can simply keep it in our hoard so as to gain its benefits: fertility of earth and womb. There may come a time where we can trade it away as well, if it's kept in our hoard."

SACRED GROUNDS
^|MOREAU|

Your retort stops the bleeding man!

He stands idle for several disconcerting moments before responding. "A cruel enemy? That We can be... But perhaps this is not necessary. Take your man back, he will recover in time. This shall be a conflict resolved by our followers, how they see fit. I wish you luck, Exiled One, for you'll need that and more to survive here." The man slumps into the arms of a nearby healer, and the blood retreats from your sacred grounds.

"Master, you did it! By the gods, I couldn't banish the thought of a cataclysm falling on our heads. Surely, this is a tale for the tellers." The healers get to work on the ashen faced man, newly freed.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Look around the area for troublemakers and take em aside for talks.

[Coolrune206]

Varin looks confused. This was rather abrupt. He had never expected to become the master of trade. All he had done was spin some stories and lie. A lot. He turned to his sixteen bevies.

"..... so..... what did the old master of trade force you guys to do?

Because I'm rather at a loss here."

[AbstractTraitorHero]

I don't know I'm rather new as well but I guess we'll be working together a lot.

[Chevaleresse]

Layleth, frustrated and unable to to assist the Master of War, offers up a quick prayer to the gods for guidance, then tests the barrier of wind, seeing if she can force her way though

[Atian the Elephantman God]

Speak to the Great Khan

Bow to the Great Khan"Great Khan I wish to discuss with you about the scouting mission to the East. The previous Master of Scouts stated that there were plains to the East, as the new Master of Scouts I think we would prosper in the plains.He holds up a piece of paper. Details from the mission say that there are lots of game to be hunted and many resources at our disposal in the Eastern Plains. Though to get to the plains we will have to go past what I call the Grate Mountain. Fleetfoots have been deployed to find a safer pass through the Mountain and many wild animals are in the mountains.Fold the paper and put it back into my pocket.This may also be our chance to keep the 3 Clans to work together.

Deploy Fleetfoots to find a pathway through the Grate Mountain

[NRDL]

Nix, realising that his god has not abandoned him, grins.  Rising, he faces the abomination before him.

"Honour.  Less.  Dog." 

He then tries to kick him in the leg, with the intent to break it.

[Dwarmin]

"Thank you, Godi. Misra's wisdom be praised! I will bring this matter in front of the Khan...but for now, add it in an honored place in our treasure reliquary. I am sure the Mothers will appreciate the blessing."

...

She did, in fact, find the Lesser Khan first. There was apparently some sort of commotion...the Master of War was struggling against some sort...creature...in human form. She recognized the figure. Kirat Mett, a man whose mouth and temper often lead the cattle of his better judgement off the pasture, before the warden of his common sense could put it's boots on...not quite a close friend, but they knew of each other-he made friends easily among wanderers and truthseekers. She knew he had suffered as a younger man-taunted by others because his family lacked wealth or standing, he had grown up with an inherent dislike for bullies and brutes-and often found himself standing up for those weaker and smaller, the same way he had his younger brothers and sisters. Most of which who were dead by now...

Layleth, frustrated and unable to to assist the Master of War, offers up a quick prayer to the gods for guidance, then tests the barrier of wind, seeing if she can force her way though..

In what was no doubt some sort of unfortunate metaphor, the Lesser Khan was attempting to beseech the Gods for aid, when the solution was right in front of her. Tyra decided she had to get through there herself. Maybe to save Nix, or Kirat, or both.

Stand before the Boar, and your guts will stain his tusks, she thinks.

If the Lesser Khan and all the strongest battleborn couldn't bull their way through with pure force-then, perhaps there was a more cunning way. Judge the speed and direction of the wind...cut in at the right moment. Use the momentum of the storm to help you, rather than hinder. It would be more like aiming an arrow, than cutting through with an axe...had to do it just right...

She knelt and picked up a handful of dust, casting it into the wall, watching which way it rode. A moments measured thought.

Action: Attempt to use my wits to pierce the wind wall!

Also, the idol gets added to our hoard until further notice

((OOC: Officially segueing into Murdoc/NRDL's plotline!))

[Romans]

"Thank the gods you're here, this creature has attached itself to Saga. And it seems physical reactions only makes it react much worse, I know not what to do healer".