Charn and the Teacher

Yelrona has been making her way casually around the Mictlan since her arrival this morning, asking questions and chatting with people, ultimately not learning very much about what she came to learn about. Not too surprising, really... that is the nature of investigations, most leads don't pan out. But much like shooting at a heavily armored target, one keeps firing arrows... eventually one will hit.

Anyway. She is currently sitting on a large rock near the fire, composing her thoughts.

Hetzakoatl is settled before the fire, enjoying something that's been cooked well in the fire. She bites into it, tearing a great piece off, and wolfing it down hungrily. Someone comes to stand before her, and she pauses in her dinner, reaching up to trace something on their forehead, and murmuring something under her breath. This seems to give some cheer to the other Sith, who walks away with a bit of a pride in their step. The frostscale's gaze takes in the Dawn Elf, and as the persistent woman makes her way close by, Hetzakoatl raises her hand. "Peace upon your nesst.", she rumbles, gesturing to a space beside her on the log she is currently settled on. "What is it that is on your mind, softsskin?"

"And on yours," Rona replies cheerfully, if perhaps a bit tiredly.

"Was that a blessing, before?" she asks curiously, vaguely gesturing in the direction of her forehead to indicate what she's referring to. "They seemed to greatly appreciate it."

"As for my mind... well, Charn, mostly. In particular, their campaign against the People."

This might not be news... Rona has essentially been discussing the subject with everyone who will sit still long enough, today, and it's a small Mictlan. Word gets around.

Svarshan has arrived.

The grin is a bit more practiced than what Yelrona has seen from other Sith of late, though it is definitely something that is consciously done. The smile does, at least, go all the way to the eyes, the expression giving weight to the genuine nature of the grin. "Indeed, it wass. A gentle one in hopes of good weather and an ample hunt. Their spiritss are raissed, and it takess some of their worriess away. It iss a thing that shamanss do." A pause is taken to enjoy another bite, which they enjoy somewhat noisily. The white-scale licks at her lips and a gurgling sound can be heard in her chest. "Hmm, Charn. Something that hass been on many peopless mindss."

The white-scale Sith-makar and the Dawn Elf are in conversation by the fire, with the Sith enjoying something tasty on a stick.

"I musst offer you a piece of advice, firsst. Have a care about how you go about addressing the issue about Charn." A huff, followed by more gurgling, before they continue. "Charn doess not take kindly to intruding into their matterss. Know that you rissk your life, asking questionss. Thiss is not to say we do not appreciate it. Only that it iss fair to warn you just how far Charn will go. And that iss up to and including a messy death."

Peasse to you." The voice comes from just beyond the bones. A warrior emerges in phases, alongside a handful of crafter-caste. The crafters, with their smocks and toolbelts, are deep in discussion.

And they're much, much more fluent than the warrior among them.

Eventually, the warrior need not say a word. Svarshan relaxes, folding his arms as the crafters, becoming more animated, begin to take the discussion amongst themselves.

Yelrona nods. "_That_ much, I figured out a while ago. But if I stay silent, those I ask about do not stop killing, they merely attack others... potentially including those less able to defend themselves than I am. Besides, it was one of the first things they taught us in Inquisitor school... to ask questions, ESPECIALLY questions that make the evil uncomfortable, is our purpose."

Hetzakoatl nods to Yelrona, that same smile forming once more. "Hmm. A great dichotomy, yess? Six of one, half a dozen of the other? Stay silent, and people suffer. Assk quesstionss... and people suffer, but now you, too, may join them." She sits up a little bit, and gestures with a clawed hand. "But thiss iss good. You are not ignorant of the danger, and thuss, you can better protect yourself. Tell me. What iss it you are asking of the otherss?" Her attention is drawn then to Svarshan, and the white-scale offers a wave to him. "Peace upon your nesst", she intones.

Svarshan says, "Peasse to your nesst," he says to Hetz and Yelrona."

You could do sshirts, like sso," one of the crafters is saying. She gestures from her shoulders, to below her waist.

Another crafter thumps his tail, then steps forward to place his hand a few inches below hers. "To here," he suggests, and that comment causes discussion.

Among them, Svarshan is quiet for a while. Then, thumps his tail, and responds in quiet words. Apparently, there is thanks given, because there's a general thumping of tails, before the warrior turns and heads into Mictlan.

"Peasse to your nesst," he says to Hetz and Yelrona.

Yelrona nods. "True. But I can also help alleviate that suffering." She looks up and smiles at Svarshan. "And to yours," she replies. "You should know, by the way, your visage helped bring peace to a troubled man last night."

To Hetz she continues "Mostly, I am trying to understand your enemy, and mine. What they seek, what they want, what they _think_ they want. The beginning of every successful hunt is understanding the quarry," she says, as though quoting an aphorism. "So I ask. Svarshan has been good enough to educate me quite a bit already," she adds with an appreciative nod.

Hetzakoatl hmmms, a gurgle sounding in their chest, and she glances to Svarshan, and then back to Yelrona. "And what have you learned so far? From him, and the otherss? I will then fill in what spacess there may be, if I can." She gestures to the spot on her left, indicating for Svarshan to have a seat. "Resst yoursself and enjoy some elk. A successsful bounty, and a tassty one."

The brows go up, or what passes for them. Scaled, rocky outcroppings--they aren't made for the up-down-wribble that softskin brows are. "...that iss good, then. I am glad. To be of assistance." Svarshan's quiet after that.

For some time.

"..." he starts to say, opening his muzzle. Then, appears to think a second time, and closes it. "..."

"...ssa. Thank you," he says, and then moves towards the proffered space. "The Charneth? The Charneth believe the Tyrant iss ssaving them from. The greater Tyrrany of the Light."

Yelrona nods, at both the question and the invitation. "Thank you," she says. "So. I know the Charneth have hunted your people as long as they've known of your existence. Enslaved you when they could, killed you otherwise. The People are strong, and healthy, and they wish to make use of your strength, as they make use of everyone they enslave. And they seem to have been fooled by an old myth," she says with a grin in Svarshan's direction, "the lie that your blood has special powers. Incidentally," she adds, to Svarshan, "I hear an old alchemist woman was causing ENORMOUS commotion in the marketplace this afternoon because of that very question. Some alchemist's shop had apparently sold her some of the People's blood, to use as a reagant, and it completely failed to function as advertised. She was OUTRAGED at the deceptive advertising."

The white-scales gaze flicks to Svarshan as Yelrona speaks, and then moves back to settle on Yelrona when she finishes. "In... deed." That gurgling sound returns, and Hetzakoatl shakes, their expression one of mirth. "Yess, I see. The truth. The truth all dependss on the being observing it, in thiss matter." Letting out a long breath, through their nose, the frostscale closes their eyes. "Remember well my firsst bit of advice. Thiss will definitely draw their attention."

...ssa. If there are namess..." Svarshan suggests, mildly. The intent look is anything but, however. "One would make it esspensive, hunter. Thiss habit of theirss." The tail settles at the earth.

"It iss well done. Very well. Perhapss we sshould sshare words with. Asstaren to proposse fake. Ritualss and. Sspells, to augment what you are. Doing. He hass vowed hiss aid to the sshaman casste. But he iss alsso focussed on the integrity of. Magic."

Yelrona nods. "I know." The thought seems to... motivate her. "If I am not drawing their attention, I am not doing my job. And I don't know Astaren, but I've heard nothing but good about him. If he would help, so much the better."

Un'eth has left.

"I, too, have heard good thingss about Astaren. I cannot recall meeting them, but it iss likely that I have forgotten some chance meeting some time passt." Hetzakoatl gestures to Svarshan and their tale thumps the ground. "Expenssive, indeed. So, tell me of the little oness, Svarshan? It hass been some time since I have had the pleassure of watching over them."

"Only. Musing. Pay not attention to thiss sscarleg'ss. Ramblings," Svarshan says warmly, with a faint shake of his head. "It iss nothing like the trickss of. Coyote."

And then someone asks about the small ones. His features light up like Yuletide. Ruh-roh!

Yelrona smiled. "Well, if we could invoke _Coyote's_ tricks, then you would really have something. Until then you'll have to settle for me. But, yes, I'm being rude: how ARE the hatchlings! Or, well, they aren't hatchlings any longer, I suppose?"

Hetzakoatl grins at Yelrona. "I am quite sure your trickss will assist uss in prevailing over Charn. We certainly need all the help we can get." The mention of hatchlings cause the frostscale to look suddenly to Svarshan. "More hatchlingss, Svarshan? Goodnesss, what a proud father."

"They have. Chossen casste," Svarshan replies, after a time, with a parent's mixture of both pride and sorrow. Sith-makar younglings aren't forever, after all. Eventually? Eventually they move on into their second family.

Deeper breath, and then a solid, contented thump of the tail.

Yelrona says, "So? Surely you aren't going to keep us in suspense?""

Hetzakoatl's expression brightens. "And which casste have they chossen, Svarshan? Do they follow in the footstepss of their father?" Looking to Yelrona, the frostscale coughs, which is followed by the gurgling sound. "He iss very dramatic. It'ss an endearing trait of hiss."

Ssome have taken to warrior, to hunter. Otherss to sshaman. ...there may be a keeper among them though. ...one hopess," Svarshan admits, his voice pitched low, and warm. The eyes dance at the thought of it. Pride. Puffchest pride!

Un'eth has arrived.

Yelrona laughs. Parents are the same, she's found, whatever their race. No doubt her mother spoke like that about her, once.

Hetzakoatl hmms and nods to Svarshan. "Excellent. Mosst excellent. You have a well learned brood. As expected." The frostscale makes that gurgling sound once again, as she takes in the puffing and preening of the proud father. They glance sideways to Yelrona, and brings a hand up to hide their face from Svarshan's view. "Do elven parentss puff up like that?", they wonder.

"They are. Perfect angelss," Svarshan replies, his tones firm. One could well imagine the tiny, reptilian wings and snub-nosed halos. Still, the father's features soften again, and he goes quiet for a time.

Then, with reluctance, he looks towards Hetzakoatl. "There wass a. Project," he says, and then turns to look towards Yelrona, as well. To include her. "A project one had sshared wordss with the sshaman, here. The...Teacher? You are aware of. Him?"

"All parents," Rona says to Hetz, amused, "puff up like that. ESPECIALLY men. As if they'd done the hard part," she adds with a smirk. Then, more seriously, "The Teacher? I've heard a little," she says, thinking. "Nothing very clear."

"Hmm. Jusst so.", Hetzakoatl says in reply to Yelrona. "They do have the hard part of the parenting, what with all that putting up with the one giving birth." Their eyes are wide and bright, and the gurgling sound comes once more. "And having to stay out of armss reach lesst they become entangled. To their doooom." The white-scale clears their throat. "Ahem. Hmm, the Teacher. I am somewhat aware of the story."

On that cue, a pair of joys of parenthood scramble across Mictlan. They are followed by Un'eth, who, while following, makes no effort to keep pace nor gain on them. Quickly enough, they find things that snag their interest and pull their skitters to an immediate halt. Adjust. Re-skitter. One darts up to stare at Yelrona. The other rapidly climbs Mount Svarshan to stand triumphant upon his head!

I am tall and mighty

In Draconic, this comes out as 'PEEP!'

"He iss ...he teachess that all ssoftskins are as the Charneth," Svarshan says in quieter tones. There's an ache to them. "And that if the People do not. Reclaim all of the landss--if we do not sstand againsst all ssoftsskins--you will take our. Children."

"In thiss, he sseeks to overthrow our Empress. He doess not do sso outright. He ssuggessts sshe doess 'not ssee all of. The truth.'" The tail thumps against the earth, again, though this time it's halfway a lash.

"The Empress' policy," he says tightly. Teeth. Cover them. "Iss different. It iss /thiss/ foolisshness that. Dividess the People when we need. Unity the. Mosst!"

And. Well. Then there's the peeping sound, the skittering of small claws. Svarshan goes immediately still. The growls...immediately quiet, and his body language goes soft.

Yelrona nods. "We learned a little of him, when learning of the gods and how they are known by the races of Ea. The Son of Maugrim, yes? Whom the Egalrin call Kakkai'on, and the Myrrish the Great Hound?"

"Er," she adds hastily, "A follower of, I mean."

Hetzakoatl nods to Yelrona, "You have the right of it." They look to Svarshan, nodding to him. "It is... painful to think that the People are being split from within, with so much presssure being brought from without. Something musst be done, one pressure musst be smashed quickly so that we may face the other." The PEEP causes her to cough, a noisy, wet, throaty affair. A gurgle sounds deep in her throat, and she looks away, coughing a few more times. "Indeed, indeed. Mount Svarshan hass ben conquered. Again."

Un'eth snorts and thumps her tail. "Pease on your nests. Brother." She greets before hissing. "Yes, you are tall and mighty. Now come here to eat." It isn't a scolding, but it isn't a request. That she also pulls nibs of smoked boar from a pouch doesn't hurt either. Two snouts immediately swivel and sniff.

"Ssaa," Svarshan says in lowered tones. Cautious. So cautious. He looks up at the little one on his head, and makes a sign of the claws. "One iss buying ssupplies, to ssupport. Thosse of a counter mindsset." He pauses after that.

Goes quiet. The act puts him against his own cihuaa and the warrior-caste reaches up, and gingerly lifts the smallest warrior from his head, and holds them.

"Thiss one iss very sstrong," he says to her. Then, with a warm smile, settles her on the earth again, near her mother. "Thiss one iss yours, kin, one believess. Sshe hass wandered far, and sslain many a. Muzzle."

Yelrona laughs, greatly enjoying the young ones' antics. "Conquering the mountain is no less triumphant for not being the first time!"

More seriously, though, she considers the issue the others have raised. "So. This Teacher. Do we know what paths he travels, where he has been seen?" Then, confused: "supplies?"

Un'eth offers the morsels of meat and the two hatchlings dar to her to snatch their 'prey' for devouring. There was never a need for her to chase after them; they would come to her. Now that they are occupied, she steps towards the others, thumping tail once more and looking to Svarshan, first. "Ssa, she is, brother. She will make a fine warrior or hunter one day." The swelling of her chest seems to prove Yelrona's previous observation before Un'eth looks to the others. "The Teacher wars with words, not claws, but gathers an army all the same. We must battle with the same weapons, and find those who would not succumb to lies."

Hetzakoatl thumps her tail upon the ground, and slowly, somewhat painfully, pulls herself up and straightens. "I musst bid you all a good evening. A... duty comes that I musst tend to. Peace upon your nests." She looks fondly at the little ones. "Eat up and grow stronger still.", she murmurs, before wandering to the edges of Mictlan itself.

"Peasse to you, sshaman," Svarshan says to the outgoing Hetzakoatl. He then turns back around, and is quiet a time as he considers his words.

"One'ss kin iss wise." Svarshan pauses, then adds. "One hass bought ssome limited. Protections for. Thosse who sshare a truer message. And a meanss for them to travel. It iss a ssmall meassure but."

"One could ssee no better usse for the. Money. The more the People learn and ssee ssoftsskins who are not-Charneth, hiss hold growss weaker." Svarshan's smile is warm, though tired at its edges. The presence of the small ones clearly help.

"Unfortunately, there is no shortage of those who preach that difference is emnity," Rona observes sadly, in agreement with Un'eth. "I see it even in my own congregations, sometimes... where I would least expect it, honestly. Who follows Tarien with no sense of humor? And yet." She shakes her head, then thinks about what Svarshan is saying. "A kind of... cultural exchange program?" she muses out loud. "Hm. I wonder if it would help, to send a... mission, of sorts... from the Temples, to Am'Shere. They could probably be convinced to fund it themselves, in the interests of spreading the word of their patrons. And... well, missionaries can be trying, to be sure, but they are neither slavers nor soldiers."

Of course, there are lots of ways that could go wrong, also.

"It is a matter within The People, and should be handled by The People," Un'eth notes; firmly, though not quite sharply. Distrust of softskins is strong within many. Aid, yes. A chosen, proven few to accompany, perhaps. A tribe of softskin missionaries could spark war." After a pause of breath, she adds, with a snort, "Even I do not trust most without scales."

Svarshan's features shift, change subtly. Sorrow. "Ssa...one'ss kin's wordss are not uncommon, among the tribes. They are from sscars. One'ss own cihuaa, Yelrona."

"Yet...the Empress hass given word that. We are to reach out and. To undersstand other nations. Thesse orderss and the essperiences sshared and brought back among the tribess? undermine him. You think ssimilarly," meaning Yelrona and this Empress. It's said with warmth, and a faint crinkling at the edge of an eye. But, quietly so.

"One alsso thinkss thiss way. The divide iss deep, hunter. Healing it...you are correct. Our Empress iss correct. But it will take time."

Yelrona nods. "Well, come to that, even _I_ don't trust most without scales. But individuals are another matter. Still, I see your point," she admits to Un'Eth... "even vetted, there are many opportunities for things to go wrong." She shrugs. "Still... you can't defeat isolation with more isolation. The master's tools, a wise woman once said, will never disassemble the master's house."

With an evil grin of sudden inspiration, she adds "Perhaps what is called for, as you say, is the sharing of experiences. The stories of our people. Tell me... are you familiar with the Crimson Pen?"