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 Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Susan stands on the foredeck, quietly musing at the strange and terrifying sight of so much water. Thoughts come unbidden to her, mirrored by the unconscious tattoo of fingers upon her drum. Not two winters ago, the largest body of water she had experienced was the limp pool at the base of her tribe's cliff dwelling. Now that was behind her, fate and spirits having lead her away from her comfortably dry home to... this. The words of the Elder Shaman upon her departure come to her ears, unbidden. "Seek the strange, Susan-Who-Goes. Seek it, know it, enter it, and bring to us." Was this endless water, so large and so dangerous in defeat, strange enough? How did it not simply vanish or roll away in shame, like the water spirits of her homeland? Perhaps... Susan's thoughts break off as the deck lurches beneath her, prompting a decidedly undignified scream and equally undignified scuttle towards the nearest mast. Pure, blind terror at being eaten by the vengeful waters fills her, sending her tattoos crawling. "Mazu!" quote:Tier 1 Nano Haystack fucked around with this message at 21:52 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 21:22
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| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 07:45 |
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 With practiced effort, Susan clamped down on her panic. Taking deep, controlled breaths, she forced herself to open her eyes and assess the situation. Around her, the ship was not tipping over or obviously under attack, as she had feared. Like I would know, she thought, shifting her attention to the surrounding sailors. One young sailor openly smirked at her overreaction, whom she pointedly ignored. The rest didn't seem particularly alarmed, although she saw faces that betrayed annoyance, and concern. I'm ok. Get up. Susan released her death-grip, and regained her feet. If the sailors thought something was wrong, then she had lost only a little face by overreacting to it. Now, what was it that Mazu yelled back? Ah, yes. "I'm fine!" Susan yelled, returning to the railing, "Just took me by..." Susan trailed off at the captain burst onto the deck below her. She watched his display with interest – she had never met a man of his... proportions before and watching him in a full froth fascinated her. The engines? With a small start, Susan realized what had been nagging at her. The the constant growl and hum of the ship-spirit was gone! Icy fear at the thought of being stuck upon these hostile waters percolated through her, but she kept it off her face, as she had been trained. As one who lived on the margins of the weird, the dangerous, and the unexpected, a shaman did not have the luxury to lose control of themselves. Maybe this was just a small, trivial problem? Susan had no way to know. Susan picked her down to Mazu. "Friend, is this normal? Regardless, I think I'm going to go below decks, and see what there is to see. The men of this ship know the spirits here better than I do, even if they cannot speak to them... but sometimes a word from a stranger is better than a thousand gestures from a friend. Best to be well placed, I think."
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Sep 7, 2014 15:32
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Susan peeled herself off of the deck. Once she was certain that the immediate threat was gone, she knelt down by the dead man, carefully inspecting him. A death by suffocation, or perhaps crushing? Either way, the poor man's spirit would be in a frenzy from the violent death, likely obsessed with his lost breath. If it was not calmed down, it could become a chindi, stealing breath from those nearby it, possibly suffocating the unwary. Still, she did not have the time or the permission to perform a full funerary rites. She contented herself with speaking a few calming words in the sacred tongue, her hands beating a sympathetic rhythm on her drum, her tattoos shifting in soothing patterns. Hopefully it would be enough. With that done, Susan joined the others in peering into the wrecked engine room. She was not familiar with the darkness spirits that had flooded the from the room, but clearly they were efficient at causing havoc. Still, there was nothing for it. Either the engines were fixed, or Susan would have to learn to swim. "We must press forward, I think. Will those darkness spirits attack if we enter?" Susan fails on knowing what a notule is, vs 15: 1d20 14 Haystack fucked around with this message at 03:12 on Sep 10, 2014 |
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Sep 10, 2014 02:51
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 After seeing to the engine (and possibly Mazu's wellbeing), Susan takes charge of the deceased man's funeral. Thankfully, the sailors seemed willing – even grateful – to follow her lead on the matter. Poor Jimma's remains soon sunk beneath the waves, and Susan lead a sober vigil for the man. Sensing that it put the sailors on edge, she chanted and sung less than she normally would, instead focusing on the people themselves, talking to them and leading conversations. It was, she had to admit to herself, somewhat frustrating work. The men and women of the boat seemed to take Susan's careful explanations of the afterlife as an opportunity to compare superstitions, each wilder and more morbid than the last. Several times Susan had to be more forceful than she would have liked in redirecting the conversation, for fear of drawing the deceased's chindi upon them, drawn by the morbid talk. And so Susan was more tired and cranky than she would have liked to admit when she debarked. She looks out over the city, bleary eyed, considering what she knows of the place. Rolling to know what Harmuth is all about. Rolled a 10
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Sep 17, 2014 01:52
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Coming from a background where everyone knew everyone, Susan was still not used to meeting new faces on such a regular basis. Doubly so when she was fresh off of her first boat ride, and dead tired to boot. At such, she largely fell back on the old shaman's standby – watchful, stoic silence. However Ohrmazd's introduction promoted her to speak. "I am Susan, of the Argari, and Mazu's traveling companion as of late. May..." Here she trailed off for a second, looking more closely at Ohrmazd. Didn't she... know the man? Susan's normally superb memory failed her. Prehaps she was too tired for her own good. "May spirits bless you all." she finished, somewhat lamely.
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Sep 23, 2014 04:29
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Charus posted:
At the sound of her earned name, Susan stops up short, and gives the flamboyant man a long, penetrating stare. Then, not bothering to reply immediately, she fell back into pace with the group considering. She had initially dismissed Charus as just a fast-talking entertainer, just one of many she had stumbled across in her travels along the margins of this strange land. But having looked at the man, really looked, she could see that there was something more. There was a gleam in his eyes, one that she had only seen in the eyes of those unlucky holy persons whom live more in the next world than this one. His jabbering then was no mere routine, meant to work crowds of simpletons. Or perhaps there were crowds, which even her eyes could not see? Who knew. Beyond that, there was, when she considered her impression of him, something... impermanent about the man, like a dream just after waking. Susan was uncertain what this all meant, but it was clear that she would have to step carefully. After some moments – most of which was spent deciphering exactly what Charus had asked her – Susan made her reply, breaking in during a lull in Charus's patter. "I am indeed She Who Goes, o Flickering One. You asked of voices. The voices of which you speak of are the voices of the spirits, which surround us and live in all things. I see and hear many things, but I am blessed to know the most of spirits of the earth and the air and the ancestors. Of those, most are asleep, and only speak back when cajoled. Fewer are awake, and will speak at their pleasure. Fewest yet are the Deep, whom do not speak. Those ones merely Are, and can only be reached via Becoming." Here Susan paused for a moment, striding thoughtfully as she picked her next words. "What do you, o Fluttering man, know of the spirits?" Hope it's not too presumptive for Susan to get some mystic insight into Charus's... conditions. * * * At the beach gathering, Susan keeps largely to herself, silently absorbing the strange but somehow comforting scene. She does speak up at the mention of the Ealdorman, though. "Is it true that Ealdorman Stenwith is looking for those who know the secrets of the numenera?"
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Sep 26, 2014 04:35
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Susan had only just barely learned to stand the taste of seafood, and was thus glad to taste fresh bread and vegetables for the first time in days. Susan spent most the the evening quiet and observational, occasionally leaning over to speak a quiet question to Mazu about this or that. The only exception was when one of the townswomen – a stout, redfaced woman who was clearly none too sober – decided that Susan reminded her of her daughter, and that Susan therefore needed to hear a slurred accounting of her extended family's petty gossip. Thankfully, the invitation to sleep gave the bone tired Susan a chance to extract herself. If the spirts had left her visions in the night, Susan was too weary to remember them. Groggily accepting a cup of warm something pressed into her hand by the generous housewife, Susan considers her options. "I think it will be best to proceed to the town hall, even if we must wait for the Ealdorman. A bird is always happiest in his nest, after all."
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Oct 1, 2014 02:31
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| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 07:45 |
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Susan-Who-Goes M:(10/10)E:0; S:(11/11)E:0; I(15/15)E:1; XP:0 Susan sips her drink, and involuntary wrinkles her nose when she discovers it to be some sort of fish stew. Going to have to get used to this. "Ah. so Golthiar are hawks then? All the better to avoid becoming breakfast"
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Oct 1, 2014 03:10
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