2017-11-30: A Little Bird Told Us

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<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

The Caravan Kinship gets around.

Today, the Kinship's caravan has set up shop outside the vividly-named town of Corn's Holes. The hole turn out to be a small watering hole - a pair of little oasis pools, fed by underground springs.

There's a shop next to them. The sign reads 'JOHNNY CORN'S GENERAL STORE' in block letters. It probably explains a lot.

The afternoon desert sun beats down on the little collection of wood huts, practically baking the boards and windows wherever it touches. It's the kind of weather that Catenna adapts to by actually wearing more, wrapping her upper body in a white shawl off of which the heat bounces, her face and head loosely veiled. Sighing wearily, she takes a slow sip from the canteen of cold water she brought with her, then shifts her load of curry tiffins, beginning to move into town.

She has other motives for wanting to explore here, to tell the truth.

"If I am measuring right," she murmurs to Jacqueline, "that creature we saw the other evening would have flown in this direction... perhaps someone here in the village has heard something." 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Ethius is among the Kinship out in Corn's Holes, having himself... the same kind of time he seems to have in just about any given situation, as evidenced by the blank stare and the general quietness as he makes up the rear of those setting foot out underneath the afternoon desert sun.

He contributes little as Catenna lays out the probable next step in just figuring out what sort of humongous thing passed overhead not long ago. 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

The art of bundling up to avoid the desert heat is a not-so-secret speciality of the Baskar people. Cyre seems to have done the same as Catenna, having tugged his cloak up and over his shoulders and head to shield from the sun beating down from above.

The shaman walks alongside the others, a container full of assorted goods strapped across his shoulders. Herbs, mostly, freshly gathered from the secret growing places scattered here and there across the parched desert. He looks up at the sign of the little trading post-slash-settlement.

...Corn's Holes.

Really

At least it's not a ruin, or something. He would hate to have to tell someone he'd hurt himself spelunking the Corn Holes. That'd just be awful.

"Something that big could probably glide for miles without needing to roost," Cyre agrees, "But maybe they saw where it was flying to. That'd at least give us a direction." 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

For the Caravan Kinship, the small towns are just as important as the larger ones. For them, though, scouting was a bit more important. She didn't want to do anything that might damage the local businesses, and maintaining a good relationship with them was crucial.

This time, however, they're scouting something a little different.

She's not as bundled up as the others. She's followed the example of the others, bundling up a bit to protect herself from the sun. She had also supplied everyone with a potion to help keep them cool and regulate their body temperature in the desert heat.

"I'm sure...someone must have. It was hard to miss..." Jacqueline replies, taking a quick look around the area before adjusting one of her bags slightly.

She'd brought some gifts along, just in case they needed something to help convince the townspeople to give them the time of day.

"Yes, that's a good point..." She murmurs, nodding toward Cyre. 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

Look, John S. Corn is a very dignified man who set up his shop next to a pair of watering holes. That's all there is to it!

"Yes... there is always a draft that comes off of the sand, as well," Catenna answers Cyre with a little dip of her head, falling in beside her companion. "It is how the condors and vultures stay aloft so easily."

The main street of town isn't much different than most small town main streets, to be honest with you. A horse has been tethered outside the saloon, and low chatter can be heard from inside. Pushing her hood back, Catenna shifts the sack of wares over her shoulder and peers down the street, watching a handful of rough townsfolk wandering past. "...Perhaps someone has seen it, yes. If it did come this way, I do not see how anyone could not have noticed...."

"--Ah say, there, pawtnah," a passing townie cuts in - a round-cheeked fellow with a curled moustache and a somewhat rumpled coat and vest. The portly mean leans into Cyre a little to squint at his wares. "Ah reckon you have theah a fine collection of dried desert weed. Don't s'pose y'all fine folk happen ta be fixin' for a sale, now?" 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Since Ethius hasn't gone off and gotten up in the business of our inquisitive local just yet, that's probably as good a sign to the rest of them that they aren't some kind of secret killer mercenary or something. (Whew!)

The odd man's eyes do seem to be following other townsfolk as they pass by on whatever their daily business is about these parts, looking significantly less inviting than that of his three other traveling companions on this day. 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

"Yeah, it's how I used to get around, too," Cyre answers with a nod. "Those thermals were always really convenient. All you had to do was give them a bit of a nudge and they'd whip you back up to altitude. And if I could get around on them, a bird could probably make it across the entire desert in a few nights. We're gonna have a time trying to track it down."

And then they enter... The Corn Hole.

That's really a hell of a name, goddamn.

Cyre shakes his head just as a chubby townie comes right up to him and wiggles his moustache. Uhhhh... "Well, it's a little more than just dried desert weed, sir!" Cyre grins, putting on his best salesman's smile. "I've got all kinds of herbs and weeds from all across the desert. And I'm not the only one selling! My friends and I have all brought goods to market today sir. Feel free to browse!" He sets his medicine chest in the shadow of the saloon and pops open the drawers. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have seen anything odd in the sky recently, have you? We caught sight of something flying this way, wondered what exactly it was." 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

Jacqueline nods and follows alongside the others. This place is about what she expected, honestly, but some amount of predictability was fine. It was good for things to stay consistent, and she imagined it worked out well for the people of this town.

As they walk, someone approaches them. Jacqueline pauses and turns to face him.

A sale, was it...?

Jacqueline smiles brightly.

"Indeed, we have. Would you care for a free sample? It's a potion to make travel through the desert safer." She says, drawing out a bottle of blue liquid and offering it to him.

It wasn't bribery if it was a free sample anyway, right? And if it helped convince him to answer Cyre's question, there was nothing wrong with that, either... 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

Evidently the ruddy-cheeked townie is one to appreciate a fine sales pitch. Leaning back, he twirls his moustache and nods deeply, clearly impressed. "A whole selection? Ah say, ah'ma suhtainly in the mahket for a few rare herbal compounds, if'n that's what you're sayin' you have in your fine wares." With a deep nod and a hearty chuckle, he nods to the group, bowing as he realizes half of them are women. "Well, ah say, welcome to our fine town, madames! John Sextilius Corn, at your suhvice."

Catenna blinks a couple times as she briefly wonders what kind of mother names her child Sextilius. "Thank you, sir," she murmurs with a small bow of her head. "We also sell alchemical services, and foods and medicines." Quietly, she draws a tiffin box from her pack and holds it between her hands.

John S. Corn clasps his broad hands over his paunch. "Well now! It does have a mighty fine aroma, don't it?" Jacqueline draws an even broader smile from him as he offers up the free sample.

With care, the bluff store owner takes a quick sip. He holds the potion up to sample. "Well now. A talented young apothecary, I see! But--"

Here he clears his throat. "Ah can honestly say ah ain't seen nothin' along those lines. Now ah know there's some folk 'round these parts with their wild stories 'bout the Great White Bird, but ah can't say ah evuh seen it! Ah ain't out and about in th' evenin', ah say."

"'Cause you're at the saloon, ya lush!" hollers an older man in a battered duster from across the road, waving a cane. 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Ethius is keen to let the others handle the sales pitches while he kind of just stands there and takes in the local sights of This One Guy Just Trying To Get Somewhere, Another Guy Muttering Something Or Another About A Woman, and/or That One Who Has a Weird Smile As They Count Their Gella. He probably has a bucket list for this sort of thing. It is either terrifyingly exhaustive in its scope, or woefully unambitious. (Both?)

Whatever joys(?) he gets from this, he cuts this wavering focus about the environs short with a sharp turn of his head at mention about the Great White Bird.

"Excuse me." Ethius parts from the company of the others to approach the older fellow across the road, speaking in that strange tone of stiff politeness in word choice but somehow just seeming... very cold, very distant. "The matter of the Great White Bird is of great curiosity to us. Would you be willing to discuss what you know of them?" 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

The kind of mother who names their seventh child Septilius, clearly.

"A few rare herbal compounds, a few mixtures to add a bit of spice to your snuff box. All Baskar quality, guaranteed," Cyre nods along as the merchant caravan jointly gangs up on this jolly, portly merchant. Maybe they might be able to work out a regular supply deal? That'd be pretty great.

But, ah, priorities.

"John S. Corn? Ah, so you're the gentleman this place is named for," Cyre glances meaningfully at Corn's cozy little Hole. "Well! If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we would love to set up shop for a spell, ply our wares and rest our heels from our long trip across the desert. Wild as the tales may be, it is after all a travelling merchant's job to seek out the unusual and amazing, isn't it?"

He looks to Ethius and gives a subtle nod. Already on the ball. Good man. 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

Cyre and Catenna get a subtle, approving nod as well, this time from Jacqueline and for different reasons. Business might very well go quite smoothly here, with the three of them working together like this...

"Why, thank you, Mister Corn. I can see you're a man who knows quality when he sees it." She replies with a smile at the compliment.

He hadn't seen the bird, though? Hm...

"Oh, certainly." She says, with a nod of agreement toward Cyre. 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

"Ah daresay you're mighty close there, suh," John S. Corn assures Cyre with a snap of his fingers and a broad smile. "Mah grandpappy came across them there waterin' holes in the olden days. An' here we been evah since. Bah all means, set'chaselves up for a spell. Ah thank you and me can do some business, fella."

That's more up Cyre and Jacqueline's alley than Catenna's - in all honesty, she's more the CaraKin's spiritual advisor than a true merchant, though she'll sell food and incense. She does fold her hands and nod back to the bluff merchant before them, but as Ethius wanders over to the other man, she glances his way.

"It would seem others have heard stories of a bird around here, Mister, ah, Corn," she observes quietly.

Corn adjusts his vest with a huff. "Weeeell, little lady," he concedes in a lower voice, "there's always been stories like that 'round these parts. They say mah grandpappy saw a great white bird once. Said it done took away his prize sheep. But they been tellin' those stories for a long time. Said they first heard of it from them Baskar folk."

Ethius, meanwhile, gets something different. The old man recoils a little, tapping his cane against the sand. "'s an ill omen, lad," he utters with a worried glance upward. "Best keep yer children inside come the night 'round these parts, or they say it'll come visit yeh. Just like it came ta visit Old Dame Hartley!" 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Where the old man is an animated character, earnest to discuss to a curious greenhorn who don't seem to know what the hey he might be gettin' up to, Ethius remains almost unmoving outside of the bare minimum a living, breathing body requires to continue to live and breathe. Some might think the old guy is talking to a very well-made statue of someone or another, just passing by, as the white-haired stranger quietly adds up the old man's account with their own experiences.

The Great White Bird didn't seem to be lunging for any of them that day, and none of them could be considered small enough to be children... just some puppies. It does start to put a usable framework on its routines - a nocturnal hunter, and it might have taken children? (And livestock, once he catches up with the others about what John S. Corn there says.)

"I see. Yes. The warning you have given me is most appreciated." Appreciation shared with that same tone of voice, same tempo, same everything he'd say anything else. "Would it be trouble if I were able to further confer about this with this Mrs. Hartley?"

Ethius, heartlessly dredging up a moment of tragedy for the sake of curiosity? Say it ain't so!! 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

"Ahh, well pedigree has its own value," Cyre says with a conspiratorial grin. He offers his hand, gloved to protect it from the abrasive winds. Or maybe for another reason entirely. "Cyre H. Lorentz, at your service. My thanks for your kind hospitality."

"The lady with me are Jacqueline Barber, our proprietess of our caravan," he gestures from one woman to the other, "And my beautiful cactus blossom is Catenna. I'm sure we will have a wonderful stay." Here in Corn's Hole.

...Yeah, no. Cyre's not saying that part.

it just sounds weird.

"The Baskar do have many stories about such things," Cyre agrees. He knows a handful, himself. "But to see a legend come to life is something else entirely. Though if it is hunting livestock, then perhaps the reason is the recent conflicts in the region. I can't imagine it'd be easy to seek its usual prey while Aveh and Kislev are at each other's throats all across the sands." 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

"You have my gratitude, Mister Corn. May our visit be profitable for us and your town." Jacqueline replies with a polite bow and a nod as Cyre introduces her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

The man recounts what he knows. It's not a lot, but there's plenty there to think about...and thankfully, Ethius asks the difficult question so she doesn't have to. She appreciated that about him - asking the questions she was hesitant to ask herself. Cyre raises a valid point, too.

"That does make sense..." She considers. A war like that disrupts more than just human lives, after all. 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

The old man's nervous - that much is evident. Glancing up to the sky again, he shivers a little, then looks back down to Ethius, shrinking away at the suggestion that he talk to the old maid. "Yeh c'n try, lad. The ol' yellah house at the end of the way. But she ain't been out in a few days, yeh see. Not since the bird came."

The other three have a businessman to focus on. Catenna in particular has praise to handle; she does so by blushing softly and bowing her head.

Beautiful cactus blossom? How could she not blush?

"Many old stories such as those have a basis in truth," she says with a nod for the merchant. "My people know a great deal about monsters and creatures such as that. Perhaps if it is true, we can do something to help." She looks up to Cyre, then, nodding quietly. "It may be that it has simply been roused, somehow."

Corn lets out a puff of breath. "Ahh, well, ah can't say ah know for sure. All I know is, the story goes that ol' miss Hartley down the way done had a terrifyin' encounter with somethin'. Some folks say it was that dang bird. Ah can't say for sure - she ain't come outside since then."

The merchant gestures to the same house Ethius's old man is indicating. "Mayhaps you folks'll have some luck. Though she ain't been much for talk. Say she's still grievin'." 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Ah, so the incident remains very fresh in memory, Ethius internalizes. Something deep within him finds their interest more than a little piqued. Why would it be more interesting than usual, for himself? He doesn't question it, other than accepting this new information as just another driving piece towards... something.

"I thank you for your time." He replies to the shaken (and stirred?) older man, doing little to alleviate the man's worries as he starts making strides towards 'the ol' yellah house at the end of the way.' There should usually be some kind of well-wishing in parting, but no, there he goes, off to the objective at a measured pace.

Given Ethius' apparent issues with such fine matters as 'tact' and 'not sounding like he's reading off a carefully rehearsed script,' it might be best to try and get over there ahead of him... 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

Making Catenna blush at every possible opportunity is a worthwhile and noble life goal.

"It's as she says," Cyre nods thoughtfully. "Though I imagine this poor woman probably had the fright of her life, it may do her well to speak to someone about her story. Talking through her troubles to a sympathetic ear might just do the trick."

Or it might not. Who knows!?

"We'll see you again soon, I'm sure," Cyre bows his head. "Thank you again. I think we'll make our way to see Miss Hartley about that bird."

He glances to the others and begins moving towards that house. Time to hear the story straight from the old mare's mouth, so to speak. 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

"Grieving...?" Jacqueline repeats with a frown. Did something happen? Related to the bird, or...something else? Either way, it looks like Ethius is about to start that way on his own.

If a sympathetic ear was what she needed, as Cyre suggested, it was...probably not a good idea to let Ethius handle it on his own.

She returns Cyre's glance and, with a nod, starts to make her way toward the yellow house alongside him and Catenna. 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

Nobody from the village moves to stop Ethius Hesiod, Grandmaster of Tact. A couple of children even dive behind a sign advertising Old Man Ettlesbury's Olde-Fashioned Heal Berry Cider and watch the incredibly stoic man with youthful terror.

Glancing to the side, Catenna reaches out to briefly touch Cyre's shoulder, drawing his attention to Ethius's progress towards the yellow house. Soon enough, though, Jacqueline and the catman get the right idea.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Corn," she says with a deep incline of her head. With a step back, she begins to move towards the house.

Catenna lowers her voice, glancing between her friends. "It sounded like whatever this bird it, it has been around for a long time," she murmurs. "Perhaps longer than these villages. That would imply it is far from an ordinary bird."

The yellow house is a simple clapboard-sided domicile with a little balcony on the porch and a mailbox out front. Ethius arrives first; should he knock, there'll be no answer right away.

It'll take a second knock before someone opens the door a crack and looks out. Ethius will be able to make out a narrow sliver of the person behind it, apparently an elderly woman with deep bags beneath her eyes, looking up at him with silent worry. 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

Ethius' door knocks are almost mechanical in nature. Three knocks, same strength and volume, same rhythm. Both times. He says nothing before the door ever opens.

What she sees out from within her home is a man that no one here has ever met before. Nobody that looks particularly warm. He's got that same gaze of his going, that tightly controlled body language of his as he has his hands behind his back like some kind of soldier standing at attention, or about to give some sort of report.

"Would you be Mrs. Hartley?" He asks, being patient for her answer. Enough time for others to hurry on up and maybe stop him from scaring her into thinking she's about to be beset upon by some kind of super-tax collector or something! 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

Ethius can totally be trusted with dealing with poor, emotionally damaged ladies! What do you take him for, some kind of weird, vaguely human-shaped lump with the social skills of a slightly above-average potato?

...

Okay, maybe he might need help.

"We're a group of travelling merchants," Cyre says, putting on his best Door to Door Salesman routine. "And storytellers besides. We know that you've been through quite an ordeal these past few days, and would like to hear your side of the story. What you can tell us might be able to put your fears- and the fears of all those in these sands- to rest, at least for a time."

"Would you allow us to speak with you?" Cyre cants his head and smiles, "Or perhaps to take a look at our goods?" 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

"It could be a descendant, perhaps...but I suppose there's no way of knowing for sure." Jacqueline comments with a slight frown. A creature of that size...well, it was a little worrying that there could possibly be more of them out there. In a way, she preferred believing it was just the one bird.

They arrive at the house in short order, and it seems the person they're looking for is at home. Cyre (and Ethius) take point, so Jacqueline stands back a little ways, offering the old woman a polite smile but remaining quiet for the moment. She didn't want to overwhelm her. 

<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.

There are many people Catenna would trust to deal with those who are in distress. Ethius Hesiod would not be her first choice.

The rest of the group, fortuitously, comes to Ethius's rescue soon enough, Cyre with the charm, Catenna with a polite nod. "We are sorry for disturbing you," she offers, her voice low and un-threatening, her hands clasped in front of her. "We are... simply hoping to help."

The old lady presses her lips together in a tight line. Her eyes dart towards Jacqueline, haunted. Inhaling slowly, she lets it out in a deep, weary sigh.

"I do not know where it came from," she says, her voice thin and pained. "Or where it went. Or why it took my granddaughter. Until she is found, please leave me."

Without a further word, she begins to pull the door closed. There is the sound of the bolt being turned into place. 

<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.

That confirms the account about as far as anyone knows of it. Their granddaughter was taken by the giant bird at night - confirmation that it may well have been sheer luck that neither the members of the Caravan Kinship nor the puppies were taken away that very evening.

Ethius makes no motion to interrupt the grieving grandmother as she moves to disengage. He's already going through a number of internal thoughts about the matter - how best to pursue, at least having the idea of what time it strikes and what it seeks. (It would be nice if he had any extra words of sympathy or assurance, but he seems to be short on those.) 

<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.

Well.

That certainly was a thing.

Cyre frowns, trying to jam the bottom end of his staff into the crack of the door, if only for just a moment before the old woman can kick it out. "Wait, if you can at least tell us where it was she was taken, at what time, that would be enough."

"We can take care of the rest from there." 

<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.

Ah.

That was it.

"I...I am so sorry, ma'am." Jacqueline says, looking away. Hearing her voice...it hurt. She couldn't imagine that kind of pain. Her instinct was to leave and give the woman her peace, but, as harsh as it might be, perhaps Cyre had the right idea.

"We'll...we'll do what we can." She says.

It was all she could promise.

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