Werewolf Relocation Project

GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 18 DC: 19
GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 18 DC: 23
GAME: Telamon casts Mind Blank. Caster Level: 18 DC: 26
GAME: Telamon casts Greater Teleport. Caster Level: 18 DC: 25
GAME: Harkashan casts Magic Vestment. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18
GAME: Harkashan casts Comprehend Languages. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 17 DC: 19
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mind Blank. Caster Level: 17 DC: 26
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 17 DC: 23

As the sun sets and everyone gathers for the meeting with the werewolves, it’s a loose gathering. Three individuals have placed themselves ahead of the larger mass that’s formed to hear from those of you that have a stake in the disposition of the remaining werewolves. Nobody looks terribly happy, but then… supplies are low and these people largely have no place to go. Nowhere to call home. Nothing to live for but that which once drove them to join up with this faction in the first place.

The first of those that have set themselves apart of the werewolves is William Keenseeker, an older man with long gray hair and dark skin who has proven a quiet, thoughtful sort. There’s a massive scar on his left arm that marks if from elbow to shoulder. His clothing is rough and ragged, but in good keep.

Anne Rowntree is the second. Once a sailor her clothes mark her as such, but the life of that time is far behind her now. She has a short white mohawk and an innocent look to her that’s been hardened of recent times. She too has been fairly quiet, but there’s a look about her that suggests that she’ll prod if she needs to. If and when.

Gugh Forye, the third of these individuals is the one who draws perhaps the most attention. A ourch, he has blue eyes and short hair dyed the same color. He’s young, and angry looking, but more importantly his clothing marks him as a cleric of Caracoroth. He has his arms crossed over his chest and glares at the group of you as if you’ve personally offended him.

GAME: Carver casts Longstrider. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14

There's a soft awkwardness to Harkashan in asking people to help him on this. Certainly after at least one of the people he looks up to warning him that it may be better to just prepare for war and let criminals be criminals. To not risk his life for them.

Harkashan takes a very different approach to this.

"I just want to avoid them starving to death, or becoming a bandit camp that sows ruin to the Vast. I want to give them a chance. To give them truthful hope, rather than the lie of hope." He remarked, before the group would teleport there.

Once arrived, and walking up to the meeting place, Harkashan tries to take the forefront. After all, he wished for this. He had met them before. And thanks to Dirk, he carries a possibility now.

That possibility comes in the form of two massive palettes on the sides of his Swiftclaw. They are each filled with an immense amount of food. Largely in the form of greenery of various colors. Almost like the Swiftclaw is wearing two massive round shields on its flanks made out of fruits and vegetables.

Harkashan's hand on the reins of the Swiftclaw, approaching the meeting, and halts before the three that have come forward most.

"William Keenseeker. Anne Rowntree. Gugh Forye." He remarks on each of their names, looking in their direction, while placing a hand to his chest. Showing a motion of respect for them.

"In honor of you hearing me out on this, regardless of my first foolish attempt to speak to you without the respect you deserve, I bring you a gift. One with context I will speak of soon." He begins, as he waits for the rest of the group to stand with him.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy+2: (3)+15+2: 20

The teleport is almost ordinary, the shimmer of multicolored light heralding the arrival of the heroes. Some things don't change, after all.

At the center of the group is Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, dressed in fine garments indeed -- the ruffled silk shirt in white, the dark leather riding trousers, the black boots with silver buckles, and the sleeveless over-cloak embroidered with geometric symbols. His hair caught back with a gold and silver circlet, his eyes full of stars, as he calmly regards the trio of representatives.

This is Harkashan's play, and while Telamon hopes for the best, he hopes his presence, as well as that of his wife, will serve as a brake on any hot tempers. He smiles charmingly at the trio, eyes resting on each one in turn, measuring them.

GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (14)+25: 39
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls hmm: aliased to Sense Motive: (8)+27: 35

When it comes to the Werewolves, Rune has usually been on the side of those who were forced to strike them down. Kidnapping dear friends, threatening villages, acting as harbingers of potential doom... there were plenty of reasons to have only had negative interactions with them. However, she had come to understand that not all of them were quite so willing participants.

That doesn't mean she isn't on guard. Once, a long time ago, Rune had trained as an emissary, but at the moment, she looks like she is simply there as a body guard. A strange one, at that, for those who don't know her, since she doesn't look much like the sort of muscle these people would actually need for any sort of protection. For the time being, her hands are relaxed at her sides, showing no sign of being any kind of threat.

A small incline of the head is offered, but it's obvious the half-sil is not planning on being one of the lead talkers in this group. There are far more suited individuals here for that.

Dirk arrives alongside his friends and comrades. He has his thunderbelcher holstered over his shoulder, but he's also fully armored up. He's willing to put his best foot forward, but he's not a moron (though that point remains open to debate). He tips back the brim of his tricorne, casting a steely eye around the gathering. "Right. Here we all are then," he says. He'll let Harkashan take this one away--he's merely here for moral support.

Cor'lana, accompanying her husband, frowns a little as she observes the oruch man specifically. She's dressed about as nicely as her husband in her own adventurer's garb, which shows the curuchuil on her chest, but she bears not so much a regal air as much as one who seems solemn.

Her actions, in some manner, caused all of this, after all.

She nods gently to the other two individuals, but her violet eyes remain on the oruch man. Her hand flexes a little otherwise, like she's waiting to be recognized--and by a specific epithet that she believes these people would know her as.

Carver, last and least of the group. She didn't mind. Curiosity compelled her to wonder at what saving werewolves from themselves would even be like. Perhaps she can be useful in navigating or finding a suitable home. Near water is often a fine idea to start. She sits astride her gray mare, which is the lone source of imposing power about her.

The rest screams half-drowned alley cat in heavy leathers and furs, too large and almost fully drowning in them.

Interestingly enough it's the woman who addresses the group first, nodding to Harkashan and smiling a smile that's a bit bitter. "Harkashan." She says to the sith-makar. "You've returned. We thought that you might not after the farewell you got last time. But it seems you've brought friends."

The crowd murmurs behind her. Whispers of 'temptress' are loud in the group of people, but one person in the back calls in particular just as the others start to grow quiet. "They're wearing enough to feed us a year!" This makes the mass of werewolves rumble in disquiet and William speaks up into that unhappiness his expression largely blank.

"They aren't wrong. You come bearing food and wearing enough wealth to feed us a long time.”

GAME: Harkashan casts Bull's Strength. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17

"Thank you, Anne." Harkashan rumbles, accepting the welcome as a... well... welcome one. Bowing his head in respect once more. "My last farewell was not the one I desired. But it did what it should. It ensured I would think." He answers her.

He glances about as he hears the word 'temptress' and follows their eyes towards a particular Raven lady.

"You are right. We wear wealth." He then remarks. "And as you say, I also bring food." He leads the Swiftclaw a bit further forward. "Apologies. I am not the strongest. So give me a moment. I am about to cast a spell of strength on myself." Before reciting a spell of Bull's Strength. Tensing his muscles, and then slowly pulling the carriers of fruit and vegetable off of the Swiftclaw. Motioning for Dirk, Rune and Carver to help him in this.

"I want to assure you, regardless on if you take the offer I am about to give you, this food is yours. It does not come with any strings attached but your ear." He notes, as the incredibly heavy things are slowly hoisted off of the Swiftclaw. Which looks VERY happy to have that weight off of its back when it's all done with.

He then steps back, and touches Dirk's shoulder. "It was thanks to this man, that I came up with an idea. Dirk will give you the history. But I will offer you a short version, so you need not grow impatient with us. I am looking to offer you the farmlands that once grew these very fruits and vegetables every year."

GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy+2+5: (1)+15+2+5: 23 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy+2+5: (17)+15+2+5: 39

Telamon decides to head this off before it gets out of hand. "Probably," he drawls, his voice rolling out smooth and calm. "But I don't think you agreed to meet because you wanted to fight. And I'm tired of killing people." The last word hangs out there: people. Meaning, yes, the werewolves too. "So let's all take a breath. There are ways to get yourselves out of this predicament that don't involve bloodshed."

He knows Lana's eyes are on Gugh, but he'll get to him in a moment. His gaze falls on William Keenseeker. "You look to be a man of the earth, sir. You know that harvests must be sown, and grown, and gathered. Would you not rather grow something?"

GAME: Telamon rolls talky: aliased to diplomacy+5: (5)+30+5: 40

Certain comments are made to get a rise out of people. Rune doesn't lean into that. Wealth isn't something she shows outwardly, but knowing the very real threat if things turn violent, having some protections is obvious. Her lips tighten just a bit as she nods once in acknowledgement, but says nothing on that matter.

Instead, she follows the motion from Harkashan and approaches the swift-claw, moving to help unload some of the supplies. The half-elf isn't very strong, but many hands make the work easier, regardless. The supplies are off-loaded and put into reach of the Werewolves before she steps back to gather more.

_Temptress._ The word murmured through the crowd reminds Cor'lana of what she's done. But then Telamon steps forward and her eyes close. She takes a breath as he requests.

"We are not here for bloodshed nor strife," she says gently. "We are here to rebuild. To aid. For there are those among our numbers who know what it's like to starve and to not know where the next meal is coming from. There are those among our people who understand that the strife of life is unkind--and that there are other ways to live once someone provides a helping hand."

Dirk's cheeks pink up beneath his snowy white beard as Harkashan credits him with the idea for good portion of this expedition. He takes a step forward, reaching up to doff his tricorne. At his comrade's direction, he goes to help offload the foodstuffs, trundling forward to set down crates, baskets, and sacks. "I've followed the Green Word all the days o' me life," he says, looking up and around at the lycans. "Farmin' may not be as excitin' or glamorous as the life of a bandit. It's true, folk wi' swords rarely go hungry." He fixes his gaze on the three leaders. "But they can still die on 'em. Captains first."

He waves his tricorne towards Telamon, nodding his head firmly. "We've all suffered in this conflict. I know yer lives will never be the same. I wish there were summat we could to tae take it all back. But grizzlin' never mended metal." He looks up and around at the gathered lycans. "Ask any khazad, an' we'll tell ye--hard work is its own reward. I won't lie--farmin' isn't easy. Nae as easy as robbin' good, honest folk. But the coin ye steal today will be spent on the morrow." He fixes a stern gaze on the one who spoke up about the quality of their gear. "An' eventually, yer luck -will- run out. Ye'll tangle wi' the wrong person, an' that'll be the end fer ye. You all deserve more than that."

He reaches out and digs his hand into a sack of bright red beans. He lifts them up, letting the legumes rain between his fingers. "-This-," he says. "-This- will reward ye far better than any ill-gotten booty. Tend yer fields well. Show them love an' respect. Give thanks tae the Blessed Lady, an' she will return it to ye. It'll take time. It'll take work. But in the end... ye will feed yeselves an' yer families. Ye'll never be hungry again. -That- I can promise ye."

Hungry eyes watch Harkashan take the food down, and Anne motions for some people to come forward to take it. They look at Harkashan with suspicion, but when no one stops them they cart the food off and Anne watches it go. "Make sure that gets to the cooks. Anyone stealing gets kicked out into the desert."

Telamon's words seem to soothe the bulk of people, but a few are still... unsettled. William stares at Telamon and finally replies. "Sir. I was a farmer once. Until wights attacked my farm. They tore my arm up, killed my family." His eyes are dark with memory. "Then Zalgiman came. He had them cut off the lame arm. The scar remained and the arm grew back strong. He said there's a better life for me, and I believed him. Now you ask me to walk back to the life I left. I'm fifty years old. What kind of life is there for me on a farm?"

There's a murmur of agreement to that quiet truth, but it's Gugh who responds to Cor'lana. "Help! Ha! What have you done Temptress? Your love-slave slaughtered Zalgiman when he was defenseless. You handed Dace his death-warrent in the shape of a scroll that stole his power. You killed Marsward. He wasn't a good leader or a kind one, but he had money to feed us and the power to protect us. Now he's dead and you come to us with empty words." Gugh snarls.

Dirk's words are effective however, or perhaps his actions. There's a lot of hungry eyes on those beans. Still the food is promised and tomorrow is not. Anne places a hand on Gugh's shoulder and he looks at her, nodding. "Anger comes swiftly to us gifted with the ability to change forms." She says, looking at the group of you. "You promise that we'll never be hungry again, but we all know that's an empty promise. What farmer doesn't have lean years? William has told us all enough about that. We might not have much, but we have numbers. Enough to force Alexandria to recognize us. Maybe make our own nation. It's what Marsward led us to dream of. Why should we abandon that for a hill of beans?"

"Sir. I believe that someone like you has the most important job in life." Harkashan answers William with a firm and confident voice. "You left behind a farm, but many of those with you would know nothing of farming. You must do as you do now. Lead them, and teach them. These people look up to you, and look to you for leadership." Harkashan pauses for a moment, looking William in the eyes.

"They follow you, not just because you are strong, but because of your experience and your wisdom in life. As you say, you are fifty now. That's fifty years of experience these people might very well lack. So, I say to you. Do as you have done for these people. Lead and teach them."

He leaves Gugh to Ravenstongue and the others. And instead bids to Anne with an earnest plea.

"But you are right. No farmer doesn't sometimes have a lean year. That is why I have approached the government of Alexandros. You would pay taxes within these lands, as all of its people do. But you will be recognized. And in turn, you will afford Alexandria's protection in such lean times." Harkashan answers. "You could start your own nation. I recognize this. I believe you absolutely have the power, wisdom, and leadership to do so." A pause, before he uses Anne's own words to create a counter-point.

"But as you say again, even a farmer sometimes has a lean year. And as you saw under Marsward's leadership, creating your own nation is difficult. He was, as Gugh professes, not a great leader. But he had money. Now, that is gone. The loss of even just one important figure can mean chaos. Creating a nation is hard. Not a hardship you are unprepared for. But one you must consider against many lean years coming to you on the short term."

He pauses for a moment, considering his words, then notes; "I beg of you to consider your ambitions against the needs of your people. And know that the next generation has a better chance if you ensure a healthier generation."

GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy+2: (6)+15+2: 23

Well, -that- was offensive. Telamon's eyes flash for a moment -- not at the remark directed at him but at Cor'lana. But he fights down the anger, and instead breathes in and out through his nose. "Having problems talking to your god, friend?" he directs at Gugh. "People change -- and improbably enough, so can gods, if they've got the right motivation. But that's a theological argument for another day."

He squares his shoulders, turning back to William and Anne. "Marsward led you down a dark path. He served a fiend, intent on claiming the power of Caraocoroth. He'd have sacrificed you, just as he did Zalgiman, just as he'd done with so many others." His eyes soften. "You don't have to do this alone, either. Farmers work together, just as so many others do. And if you want... I will sweeten the deal, make it easier for you. Will you hear me out?"

GAME: Telamon rolls talky: aliased to diplomacy+5: (9)+30+5: 44

Carver does as she is bid. Get the stuff. Hand off the stuff. Do not cause a political woompah by flinching when bitepeople come closer to take food away, cause that would be incredibly rude. She can't help the sigh of relief when she isn't gnawed on all the same, returning back to her steed to give a pat. As if to say, I would never let them eat you first. If she was ate, she couldn't much stop that.

Lambchop seems to like this unspoken, comforting sentiment and stills. The woman's eyes scans over the crowd in front of her, the downtrodden and angry. Wolves in human skins. Flogging themselves in preparation for war, or begging for a reason not to.

Her eyes skim over to the monsters in humanoid skins she stands with. Sorcerers of great powers, well-trained killers in leathers, and even a holy man whose accouterments were clean but she knew to have been covered in blood in the past.

Her snigger is quiet, some unspoken summary resounding internally enough to surprise a laugh from the younger helphand.

"To make a nation... you need farmers, crafters, carpenters, leaders." Rune begins quietly. The rogue had certainly not meant to play any significant role in these discussions, but she can't help but speak up, anyways. "To make a nation, you need to be able to grow and build." She adds on, letting out a soft breath. "But you also need fighters, hunters, guards. Those who can protect the ones who can't protect themselves. To raise not only cattle and vegetables, but also your children somewhere that is safe."

Setting down another bushel of supplies, Rune steps back slightly, her head tilting. She doesn't have the commanding quality of some of the others. "You have the power to build, or the power to destroy. I know which one I would prefer to see... especially given how much blood-shed we've already experienced."

GAME: Rune rolls diplomacy: (20)+9: 29

Cor'lana goes deathly still when Gugh addresses her. But then the flint comes out in her violet eyes. She raises her chin, and despite her stature, she seems for all the world like someone taller.

"You think you know me and that you understand what happened because of rumors and lies," Cor'lana says. "You call me a temptress. You call my husband a love-slave. You decry me as a woman who's killed and delighted in a man's death after using him when that couldn't be further from the truth. I ought to be angry."

She stares at him a moment longer.

"But what would that accomplish? What would that do for us? Other than provoke a fight and find more strife here between us? I came here today with Harkashan to put a peaceful end to what remains. I came here today because if there is any way to make something good out of that dark and terrible legacy that Marsward left behind--then I had to try. I'll endure every insult you have to throw at me. I'll endure every stone you have to throw. Even if they shatter my limbs and leave me to rot--I can still say it was because I _tried_."

Cor'lana sighs. "Listen for a moment to these people. Do not bare your teeth and speak words to incite a fight. I will not give you that fight. I will only give you peace."

Dirk's beard bristles angrily, and he takes a step forward, leveling a stern glare on Gugh. "-I- killed Zalgiman," he says firmly, puffing up his burly chest. "I put a whole clip o' silver shot in 'is filthy hide. Because he was a murderer an' a bully. I watched 'im slaughter innocent folk wi' me own two eyes. Someone's brother. Someone's mother. Someone's friend. Good, innocent folk who'd never done anyw rong. -Dead-, because -he- thought he was King Shit on Turd Hill." He puffs himself up, drawing upon all the fierceness and passion the khazad are known for. Never mind that the oruch is head and shoulders taller than him--he's faced far larger foes before. "If it's blame yer wantin', then put it on -me-. I will -never- stand aside while good people suffer. That includes -you- lot."

He holds the oruch's gaze for a beat longer, then turns his attention to Anne. "I work the land my father tilled when I was but a beardling. An' me gran'father afore him. All the way back tae the first dwarves o' my clan who first left the mountain fer the wood. Eight hundred years, we've lived in harmony wit' the land, an' the land has given us its bounty freely, in gladness." He nods his head firmly. "And aye, there -will- be lean times. That's when ye must look to each -other-. Find harmony in yer community. Among yer people." He plants his hands on his hips. "Or... ye can go it alone. Set yerself in rebellion against those in Alex who would aid ye. Live hand tae mouth, until someone takes it intae their heads that yer more trouble than yer worth, an' they come out tae finish the job."

He gazes at Anne steadily. "Lassie... I've nae want fer a fight wi' any of ye. Blessed Dana an' Holy Gilead witness me. I want tae -help- ye. But if ye insist on this path... if ye choose violence instead o' harmony... the whole lot of ye combined are nae match fer us." He takes a step forward, his expression turning pleading. "It dinnae have tae be like that," he says earnestly. "Ye can build a -good- place. A safe place, a place o' plenty. A place that yer children's children will be proud tae call their home, eight hundred years from now." He clasps his hands around the brim of his tricorne. "Let us help ye, lassie. -Please-."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (3)+31: 34
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (3)+31: 34

Harkashan's words seem to make little difference to the crowd, but the leaders look amongst themselves. Anne takes Telamon's comment, patting her companion on the side even as William looks thoughtful. Something that Harkashan said is stuck in his mind. "We are willing to listen. That's why we're here and why there's no weapons drawn."

"Yet." Says Gugh, glaring at Telamon. But Anne slaps his shoulder and looks at Rune when she speaks up.

It seems... maybe the werewolves hadn't thought of this. The fact that SOMEONE would need to be a farmer in this new nation. She smiles though, Anne does, in a way that says that maybe SHE has. "But we'd be together, wouldn't we? Not split up into little villages across Alexandria. Here we have each other."

There's a long moment of silence from everyone and then, with Gugh clasping his holy symbol to his chest and glaring at Cor'lana. It's Anne who speaks again. "Promise us a place we can stay together and we'll be a peaceful town just a little different from those others." There's a grumble, but she stands firm.

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/local: (13)+13: 26
GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/geography: (6)+8: 14
GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Geography: (18)+10: 28
GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/local: (3)+10: 13
GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/geography: (19)+4: 23
GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Geography: (2)+4: 6

There's a moment of quiet and respect from Harkashan as everyone else speaks. Rune especially, making such a poignant point to those before her.

Harkashan nods his head. "We are in this for the long term. I do not come to you with this offer, planning to drop you at those villages, and leave you to fend for yourself. The areas that we are looking to settle you, were abandoned due to a former war at the front lines. This means these villages are all in the same general region. What's more, they can be expanded." He answers them.

"I admit, I had not considered the tightness of your community." He touches over his chest. "But I believe there lies possibility there." He looks to Dirk instead. Knowing the Khazad, he'll have more details on what the best areas would be to settle there. "Dirk, do you remember if there is a place that could house them all?" He then pulls what looks like a map of Alexandros from his satchel and lays it on the flank of the Swiftclaw. Motioning for Anne, William, Gugh, and the rest of the team. But also notably, giving a pleading look to Telamon. The two both know what the Alexandrian government wishes for.

The map gives a visual look at what their options are.

"While we look at this. I have one more offer to give. And that is the strength of myself. I will not speak for the others, but I believe them to be willing as well that - if you run into problems, such as one that cost you your arm - to come to your aid as soon as we can as well." Harkashan pleads.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Diplomacy: (16)+15: 31

Telamon shakes his head. "Alexandros will have to deal with it. It's better they're together." He gives Harkashan a 'let's talk later' look. "Of course, we could just smooth the transition by buying the entire parcel. Hmmm..." He does some mental figuring, his eyes flicking to Lana. There's the sense of something passing between them, before Tel exhales.

"Hark, we can buy that land. We use my investment in White Shield ale, and the funds I'd made off it. I meant what I said -- I want you," he directs this as William, Anne, even Gugh, "to have a second chance, a better life. If that's what it takes, then so be it. I'm not afraid to invest in a future."

Once Rune has said that small bit, she meets eyes with Anne and offers a nod of acknowledgement. It's obvious that she has had some skill in matters of state at some point or another, but it is also something that she has stepped away from, choosing to walk a different path in life. Even so, helping in any small way here is something.

Once the supplies are handed over, Rune steps back again, leaning slightly onto the Swift-claw and leaving further discussions to those who have more skill and knowledge on the matter at hand. Though, there is an expression of surprise that comes as she lifts her eyebrows and looks to Telamon.

Dirk tugs his beard, his shaggy brows furrowing in a -thinking- look. "There's some among the Alexandrian nobility who'd be sympathetic," he muses. "But I'd stake my beard on -most- o' the Lords' Assembly wantin' tae keep 'em separated." He harrumps, shaking his head. "Well... they can bloody well get used tae disappointment." He trundles forward to look over the map that Harkashan provides. "I'm nae much fer puttin' on airs. I'm as humble as they come. I wouldnae ken the first thing about this. But... there -has- tae be a way."

When the suggestion is made to just buy the land outright, his brows arch like astonished caterpillars and his eyes get wide as teacups. "Beards o' me fathers! Hark, we're talkin' -thousands- o' gold here! I--" But then, there's Telamon with his most incredibly generous offer. He turns his gaze to his dear friend. "Och, gods love ye, laddie!" He looks back to the lycan leadership, nodding his head firmly. "I may not be able tae help ye wi' the laws an' logistics. But I surely -can- teach ye all how tae till the land. What tae plant, when tae plant it, an' how tae care for it." He looks back at the map and squints. He reaches up to draw a line with a fingertip, following the contours of the markings. "Och, lookit -that-. It's nae far from me wood. We'd practically be neighbors. So! I'd be close by tae offer help if ye ever needed it!"

"There is always a better future, so long as one says yes to the possibility of it existing," Cor'lana says far too knowingly. A small pain in her voice for having said these words. "If Zalgiman had said yes to the possibility of his better future--then he would be standing here today with all of you."

Her hand goes to her heart. "I will support Telamon in making sure we can secure land for everyone to be together as one group," she says. "It would be a shame to separate a pack."

The three join Harkashan, looking at the map and then looking at the group as discussion is had about the land. When Telamon offers to buy it outright, Anne looks at William and William nods. She glances at Gugh and he seems to stare into Telamon's very soul before nodding himself. They're not psychic, but they seem rather to have almost have had a discussion earlier. Anne looks at the group of you gathered together. "We'll take it." She offers a hand to Telamon and then the same hand to Harkashan.

Gugh turns to Lana though, scrubbing a hand through his short blue hair before offering it to her. "It was my job to try and provoke you. There are many of our members that are still angry with you. But... Caracoroth _does_ still speak to my dreams, and I know that all of you did try to help. Marsward got what he deserved, and you deserved better than how I treated you earlier. I hope you'll forgive me the bluff."

Telamon's words send a shiver of relief through the Sith-makar's body. Though Dirk's comment on just what kind of money they are talking about makes that shiver turn to one of ice. He owes Telamon much. But, as that look showed, they would talk later.

Harkashan reaches out and shakes Anne's hand; "Thank you for your consideration." He rumbles deeply. Touching over his heart as always to show his earnesty in his words.

His tail is wagging a bit, so happy and excited. But his face is totally poker-face.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Bluff: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (1)+28: 29 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (10)+28: 38

There's a small part of Telamon, hidden away, that thinks, 'Ah well, easy come, easy go'. But this is worth it. There must be peace, there must be an -ending-. And if the cost can be paid in gold rather than blood and fear, well... it's money well spent. And so Telamon smiles, and takes Anne's hand in turn, shaking it. "A better tomorrow," he says with genuine warmth. "Work towards that."

He offers the others a grin, his eyes twinkling with stars and maybe a touch of fey mischief that's rubbed off from his wife. "It seemed neater," he remarks cheerfully.

With the agreement seemingly made, Rune steps up closer to Harkashan. There is a slight nudge to his arm before she motions her chin towards the tail that is totally giving away his feelings on the matter. She raises a brow and smirks slightly. Even so, that look is both warm and supportive in that.

"It's a start." She offers softly. "Now it's up to us to keep good on our end of the bargain." Blue eyes look around to the others, quite glad that there is a solution that did not involve her weapons having to be drawn. Peace is better.

Cor'lana regards Gugh for a long moment. But she goes to reach up with her hand after that moment, and then words fall from her lips, augmented by the lovely sound of her voice:

"The wolf, he lies there in sleep And above him the Moon flows down Her gentle rays and comes to know That the wolf--he wishes to dream And so she and he come together And they dream a sleeping rhapsody That sings of a friendly path Between their two worlds and beyond:

For one may make a grand mistake To believe that She of Dreams And He of Nightmares cannot exist Together within the Dreaming-- And Those who serve Them cannot see Each other as eye-to-eye as another But consider the wolf who sleeps In a moonbeam'd meadow so freely And wonder for a world beyond Our own so full of strife:

For a dream of peace is approaching, For a dream of peace is upon us, For a dream of peace is here and now, And I welcome it for tonight and always."

She takes the hand and shakes it vigorously with a smile. "I forgive you, and I look forward to a brighter future," she replies gently. For it's all she ever wanted in the end.

Peace.

Dirk watches as his friends seal the deal. With their generosity, a new hope will be born for these folk, who have lost so much. His own part in the whole affair was a small one, but the burly old ranger often finds contentment in small affairs. (There's probably a short joke to be made there somewhere, but -he's- not going to make it.) He turns his gaze over to Gugh, and he offers the oruch a gentle smile. "The night Marsward fell, I had a dream too," he says. "Of a wee wolf pupper, runnin' through the wood wi'out a care in the world. Attended by a wee golden dragonet that I ken well." He thumps a fist to his burly chest. "The circle never ends. Tomorrow will always come. The rains will clear, an' we will be blessed wi' another beautiful day. Believe in that, an' the rest will fall intae place." His whiskers quirk upward in a bit of his usual warm cheer. "'sides--a lad like you is -perfect- fer workin' a farm! I'll show ye how it's done." He looks over to Lana as she recites that lovely poem and he sighs quietly. "Damn it. Wish -I- could do that," he mutters wistfully. "I can never make it sound as good as -she- does."

Carver throws up her hands when the poet's grace distilled from heaven and fey descends upon them, Telamon is made significantly much poorer, but the lingering sense of 'Change' settles in even if it goes over her head. "You lot are strange, but can't say you don't try and do some good between all... being yourselves." She looks at Telamon, "I ain't portalin' home."

-End