Fuzzy Wuzzy, Squee, the Flying Squirrel, Brigid leave, following Darren.

Fuzzy Wuzzy, Squee, the Flying Squirrel, Brigid arrive, following Darren.

Fuzzy Wuzzy have been dismissed.

The air is still, the wind scarcely stirring for a Spring evening. The air carries a crisp chill, but nothing that normal clothing or armor wouldn't protect against. There is nothing on the altar nor bonfire to roar; only scattered torches and heavy moon above provides ample lighting for the event. Freja sits at the altar, leaning back a moment and waiting for the others to arrive. Her headdress is on per usual, but what is far more striking is the three crimson streaks on her face in a diagonal fashion.

Darren enters the grove, his typical swagger replaced by a more slow and precise sort of walk that seems to favor his right leg. He pauses for just a moment, a soft smile upon his lips as he looks around, before he goes to take a seat upon the benches.

Mathias isn't a northman, nor is he a follower of Shamanism. He's a Knight of Solace, as proclaimed by his tabard, and a Lower Borough man. And still he shows up. Why? Because everyone needs a cheering up that involves stories about killing demons. Or winning, somehow. And so he steps inside, greatsword strapped to his back, wearing the dark armor that has become emblematic for the Champion of Solace. He does't speak up, just nods to the people gathered, and takes a spot for himself to be able to hear well.

Octohopper, a prismatic jumping spider, Mira arrive, following Ferrando.

Darren has joined the benches.

Mira has joined the benches.

Ferrando has joined the benches.

Ann arrives at the grove with an eagerness on her face, ablaze with curiosity. She clutches her cloak about her, a dark red much the color of spilled blood, almost black in the shadows through which she walks to the torchlight of the Grove. In on arm, a book is tucked, and in one hand, a rough writing instrument. In the other hand, a small flask. She glances around at each face, looking slightly disappointed over the lack of one. Then she meanders over towards Darren. "Cousin." She glances to Freja, her expression becoming wistful. "Princess Freja. So majestic."

As the others begin to arrive Freja's lull in repose ends and she pushes up off of the altar, her rare smile in full bloom as she beckons everyone closer. "Please, come, join us. Grab some whiskey, imbibe some mead. Vittles for the hunger and stories for the soul. We shall have two for you this evening, at least, followed by a ritual to beseech the spirits for their boons, their guidance in the days to come. After that concludes I ask that you share any stories that strike your hearts, ringing down through the ages and melt in your very marrow now to kindle courage within you."

Mira arrives with Ferrando, wearing an ankle-length black cloak. Closed down the middle and tied at her throat, a deep hood hangs low over her face as she wanders into the grove, glasses glinting in the torchlight. Hints of her red hair are visible within the hood, framing her glasses and occasionally brushing her cheeks.

Darren looks up as Ann comes in, his head slightly canted to the side. "Cousin, come sit. Were you expecting to see someone that isn't here?" he asks curiously, keeping his voice low as he becomes Ann over to the seat beside him. Nods are given to the others that enter, too, before he focuses his attention upon Freja as she begins to speak.

Avasyn pads lightly across the stones, hand gently brushing over the wild fauna there. She'd never seen anything like it, as she's not stepped into this part of Arx before. The gathering of people seems to give her pause, as if considering turning back. But the air's sweet auroma and the warm lighting entices her closer. And Freja's warm welcome only relaxes her further. She takes a seat on the ground, crossing her legs as she rubs her arms through her velvet dress. Thank goodness for the thicker material in the cool night air.

Cybele has rolled a critical success!
Cybele checked dexterity + stealth at difficulty 15, rolling 9 higher.

Ferrando trucks in and stakes out a spot at the benches to have a seat. His hood is down over his back and may or may not have a certain prismatic arachnid riding around in the pocket. But! Being in time for the ceremony to begin he sits down to observe.

Freja checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 5 higher.

Darren checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Mathias has rolled a critical success!
Mathias checked perception + stealth at difficulty 15, rolling 27 higher.

Mira checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.

Cybele has been there all along, clearly. Freja isn't the only one popping out of nowhere. I mean, sure, if you paid attention you probably saw the tall blonde lurking behind the standing stones. Maybe you heard a chime of metal against wwood. Maybe you saw a hint of crimson or ebon wool. As it is, Cybele steps out, behind Freja, gently resting a hand on the woman's shoulder, offering a pleased smile to the Redrain shaman, before raising the hand to give a wave to the others.

Freja checked dexterity + stealth at difficulty 15, rolling 49 higher.

"I should have gone for a fire." Freja says with a sigh, removing her heavy cloak to drape it over Avasyn's shoulders if she allows. It is an exotic pelt of the North, that much is for certain, a weather-worn and tattered albino bear pelt. With a soft smile she turns then with a small jump and 'oh' at Cybele's sudden appearance. Her tone indicates no sway though, only jovial air as she beams at the other Shaman. "Perfect timing! Shall I go first or you, darling? Mine is a touch..more somber in places."

Avasyn seems surprised at the gift of the cloak, and too stunned for words she hugs it around herself before offering a grateful smile, leaning back slightly to make herself comfortable.

"Mine is sometimes silly." Cybele offers to Freja. "You go first." And then, the shaman settles down, and stretches, idly, offering a nod of greeting to the people recognised. Darren and Ann. A curious look offered to the people the tall prodigal hasn't met, before the attention of the Shav'arvani wanders to the refreshments on display.

Aodhan entered the Grove, looking around and seeing some friendly faces. His fur bear cloak, clearly of Crovane design, flowed behind him as he walked, his twin longswords sheathed on his back, oddly, diagonally sheathed on the same side. He smiled to Ann specifically, (because he recognized her). He went and sat by her, "Hello Ann." he waved lightly.

Darren blinks when he hears Cybele's voice, having not noticed her before. He squints, and then chuckles as he shakes his head, looking over to Avasyn and offering her a smile. "Want to come sit on the benches?" he asks her in a friendly sort of way. "I promise that my cousin here doesn't bite."

Mira pulls back her hood from her head while talking to those at the benches, revealing red hair in a ponytail. Seeing Cybele's look, the lawyer from Merchant Road offers a little wave and a smile, wearing gold-framed glasses.

Ann gives waves to all those she recognizes, even those who startle her by showing up suddenly, like Cybele. "Hello, Aodhan." She pairs the greeting with a crooked smile, which stretches further when Ferrando arrives. "Ah, there. I wasn't sure if he'd come," she says, to Darren, baring her teeth. "I do bite a little. For the record."

Aodhan smiled a little at Ann, sitting down. He looked among the others, content with merely listening to all the conversations....he was thinking about how he was going to get into bickering contests.

Ferrando returns to the benches with a pair of wooden glasses of whiskey and one wooden mug of mead. Mira gets the mead, Ann gets one of the whiskeys (apparently Ferrando just assumed that this was a request that went without saying) and he keeps the remaining one for himself as he settles in to listen.

"If I must." Freja bemoans with feigned woe, the back of her pale hand pressed against her forehead before she rises to her full height again to move to the dead center of those gathered. The Shaman wears scouting leathers of sylvan hues, archaic runes trailing down the line of her spine and scattered in various spots that have meaning only she discerns use for. Her chestnut curls are hidden beneath the maw of a monstrous albino bear headdress, one glassy pink eye remaining while the other socket is merely a jagged gash - surely the death wound.
     Freja's voice begins soft, a rustle of wind over the hush of freshly fallen snow, each word flowing into the next with near polyphonic hum. "From seasons long since forgotten but felt in the veins of us now, it is the spoken word that carries down our heritage over the written. Why trust the scrawling hand of ink when the intoned thrum of heart can carry louder, more emotive? And so, the scops sing of the tale of Rivers that Run Red around evenings like this. No bonfire to warm, only enough light to illuminate for it is on a night that our heroine found herself - a hunt for the great dire bears of the north. She had been stirred, had been warned, but we love a challenge and eve more the chance for our name to become legend, carrying on long after we have expired."

"The night was cold, long, and desolate with more ice upon rock than powder. Even the wind seemed to conspire against all mortal forms, with out it howled about every rocky crag and whipped about every roof. Still, she steeled herself and honed her blade, arrows and bow upon her back and out she embarked into the the wilderness she had know since being a babe."

Cybele quietly moves to get a mug of beer while Freja speaks, watching the other tallest shaman with a pleased grin on their lips. Idly tapping the tall(est) staff to the ground with the beat of the tale being told. Mira gets a pleased nod, and Ann a little smile.

Jhond steps into the stone grove and squints his eyes a bit at the illumination of the torch to give a peer over at those gathered while he quietly listens to Freja begin her tale. Wordlessly he moves over towards the bar to procure himself a wooden mug of whiskey before he too pads over to the benches with a smile to those gathered with a nod towards Ferrando and Mira.

Mira accepts the wooden mug with both hands, tipping it back to drink while watching Freja over the top of the rim. She glances over at Aodhan as well, whom she doesn't recognize, and smiles and waves to Ann as she lowers the mug. Jhond also gets a wave, and she points at the mug, nods a couple times, and points at the mead barrel for Jhond to find, too, even though he already grabbed some whiskey.

Darren nods over to Aodhan, offering him a warm grin as he comes into the grove, before his attention tunes fully onto Freja. His expression turns neutral as she begins to weave her tale, and he seems wholly focused upon his cousin.

Aodhan smiled to Mira, waving lightly and mouthing hello. He clearly didn't want to interrupt Freja as she weaves her tale. He sips on a beer mug, listening to the story with a bemused grin.

Ann accepts the whisky with a warm smile to Ferrando, waving to Mira and returning Cybele's smile, but everything else (even the whisky) waits as soon as Freja begins to spin her enchanting story. Then, even as the warrior woman talks about handing tales down orally, Ann begins to scratch notes in her book, recounting this story for posterity.

Mathias sits down and listens as the tale is begun by the Redrain princess. He doesn't speak, only looks very much interested, attention fully focused on the tale-weaver.

"Siv." Freja utters the solitary syllable with a smile, gaze growing soft. "That was her name. Simplicity, but their can be potency in brevity. Now she weaved her way ever through the meandering paths but ...they started to vanish, the hacks in the trees made by her father's axe had shifted. They were higher than she ever recalled. Taller than any mortal man could make. Surely, this could not be the way? So off in the distance, a flash of fickle fire erupted - no bigger than the palm of the hand, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. She chased after it and another popped up in the close distance, the same as before. Blue in flame, they led her away until she came to a clearing with a stone stood alone at height with one's hip." Her voice grows lower and she grins wide, an impish cast to her expression as the light of the truly mad seems to come into her gaze as her voice shifts for effect of the tale. "Who comes to dance, who comes to woo? Are you the prey, or one I have slew?" The rhyme announced, there was a crash -"
     As soon as her words are out she grabs a torch and tosses it at her feet. With a kicking of embers and large burst of smoke, the scout's retreat is hidden before the appears again kneeling on the altar, a forearm resting on each thigh and her chin tilted up in defiant challenge as she mimics the demon's voice of the tale, "Shall I pry, shall I eat? Shall I slowly flay, deciding which part to keep?" She hops down to sit with her legs crossed demurely at the knee. "To this our Siv replied, a single challenge for she knew this demon - had seen him before. He loved the chase, always had, but she knew the woods better than he - had known them through every season, every weather, every day and year of her short life. So, she turned, she fled and after her he went with the sound of drums unseen, the baying of hounds nipping at her heels but never appearing in corporeal form. The Wild Hunt had begun."

Ann checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Ferrando gives Jhond a two-fingered wave and a discreet nod as the Whisper joins the listening crowd, sipping his whiskey with a squint. It doesn't sound like it's going very well for poor Siv.

So much for that piece of paper. Ann's writing hand scratches across its surface as she jumps, startled by the toss of the torch and its subsequent snuffing. "Holy blood and tears!" she hisses under her breath, struggling to return her heart to its regular beat.

Mira is listening intently, though the crash of the torch does make her jump a bit. It's been a traumatic week, okay?? Bouncing a little in the aftermath and her eyes wide, heart racing, Mira places a hand to her upper chest, stilling herself through force of will as she continues to listen. She does, however, lean over to listen to something Ferrando says.

Aodhan laughed a little at Ann's reaction, trying to be polite by covering it, but it was clear he was laughing. He smiled brightly at Freja. Nothing was better than a great story to him. He wondered how it would end, as his attention often variated between the gathered, and the story-weaver.

Jhond gives a raise of his brow at the dropping of the torch, but grins and moves to stand behind the benches so as not to obstruct the view as he sips from his cup and watches the rest of the story play out.

Ann has joined the benches.

Cybele claps excitedly at Freja's antics, letting out a little cheer, before taking a large gulp of beer, watching with a glittering delight in the shaman's sapphire blue eyes.

"Through the woods they crashed, her fleet of foot and him mad with hunger both for her soul and flesh. He had to eat, he had to feast. She had to make it, just a few more feet...a few more sprints ahead. She counted the landmarks in her head, knew the span of land she had to cross to make it to that rocky brook - such rivers and creeks that appear only as the snow melts, springing forth suddenly at the cruel North's whim only to vanish as the ice buries them again. And there, ahead!" Freja points to draw their attention to behind them, slowly weaving her way through the crowd once they look back with the voice of the demon. Her swagger is clear, the sway of her hips far too pronounced to draw attention to the caricature pride of the abyss. "Oh, how she flees and how she screams, she'll taste far sweeter than my dreams...."
     The wild look in her eyes she stops near Avasyn and lowers her head to meet the other woman's eyes directly, that wild and feral gleam in her dark eyes. "Will you not dine with me? He asked, appearing right in front of her when she had reached the precipice of a crag over-reaching one of these sudden streams. She looked away, unswayed, and with a solitary push sent him sailing to the shallow depths below. A pivot on her heel and a step back, her blade driven hard and -deep- into the stone she had stood upon and the rock came crashing down upon him, flattening him entirely."
     Freja rises to her full, towering height again - a great deal taller than a lot of the folks gathered here, that is for certain. "But demons do not go silently into the abyss and his mark had to be made, to haunt her to the end of her days and still now we see it on nights like this - when the moon glows silver, heavy and waxing in a clear Winter Sky, look for the demon with the empty eyes. He'll give chase and then cackle, hounds at your heel. Looking for flesh and heart, to consume and steal. A rock marks the spot, follow the red rivers up, for how they trickle will remind one of the bargains that were struck - look for the blade in the rock, and care to try your luck? For when Rivers Run Red, the demons shall never be fed." She smiles and then with a raise of her brows nods her end of the tale, adding now in her own habitual tones, "And so there are legends still of when times are pressed, when we doubt ourselves the most, that all our rivers, even the Red Run will turn crimson again next to Farhaven and remind us of our strength, of cunning even when glancing them in the eye. Until the Last."

Ferrando oohs and applauds appreciatively, grinning brightly at the end of the tale.

Mira murmurs something to Ferrando, looking incredulous as the performance ends. But she smiles and claps and produces a small journal from within her closed cloak. Opening it reveals a light fitted jacket over a crimson shirt and a short black skirt over her crossed legs. Scribbling something onto the pages, she makes quite a few notes before snapping the book shut and resuming her clapping!

Cybele lets out a loud whoop, applauding the end of the tale, and cheering for Freja, grinning bright at the storyteller.

Mathias grins at the end, and joins in the clapping, obviously having quite enjoyed that story.

Aodhan applauds at the end of Freja's tale. offering a whistle to add to the cheers. He crosses his arms after, effectively hiding them in his fur cloak. He smiles at everyone, looking at everyone have fun.

Darren lets out a low whoop of applause for Freja to join in with Cybele's own cheer, clapping his hands together approvingly.

Jhond takes another drink from his cup as Freya finishes her tale and then leans down to set his cup down on an empty spot on the benches in front of him so he can join in with the applause. Grinning, he takes up his cup again, "Well done, Princess Freja! Well done!" he calls out with enthusiastic praise.

Jhond is overheard praising Freja for: Good scop!

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Mira before departing.

Ann applauds Freja a little more reservedly, shooting a rueful glance or two to the ruined page in her notebook. Someone is a touch bitter. But at least she has whisky, and she takes it up to distract herself from mourning the loss of the notes she had taken.

Mira blinks and accepts a scroll from a messenger who slips into the grove, having waited in the wings until the tale was done. Her eyes widen a bit and her lips part at the message, and she quickly rolls it back up, slipping it into her cloak.

The Redrain Shaman smiles brightly, beaming with glee at the approval of the others as a bright ripple of laughter escapes, ringing like bells in the valley. "Thank you." Freja says to them all and moves to sit on the altar again and turns to Cybele then, "I believe a light hearted one would be good about now. I always love your tales."

There is applause, hands clapping quite vigorously from... somewhere. Where the sound is coming from, no one stands. And when a voice next speaks, it comes from nowhere. "Bravo, little bear cub. You spun a wonderful tale! Everyone cheered up? Ready to show those silly demons just how much bravery is found within your little hearts? Good."

And then he appears. A pale man with blond hair, his eyes of a dark blue. He wears an armor of the deepest black, one that seems to drink the light in, letting nothing escape except for hands, ever reaching out, fading in and out. He stands right in front of Freja, grinning, and just as suddenly... gives her a peck. "They taste so much sweeter when I sink my teeth in." His gaze turns, falls on Darren. "Hello future carpet." he waves... and then he's gone. Unseen once more, unheard... except for a mocking laugh, echoing within the Grove.

Cybele was grinning, really. And ready to share a tale. And then someone else is stealing Freja's schtick (it doesn't count when Cy does it, they're friends). Hands clench the staff hard enough to make the metal bits jingle, but before the shaman can reach out and give the man a whack, he's gone. Looking around at the laughter, the tall prodigal chatters furiously in northlands shav, shaking their staff at the air around them.

Ferrando wields Negotiation, a flanged alaricite mace.

Mathias wields The Ember Ruin.

Aodhan smiled as everyone was having fun...then the apparition appeared. Almost immediately, the Crovane stands and draws one of his blades, the longsword shining with the light as he places both hands on the hilt, ready to do combat, then the figure disappears. He remains on watch "We have visitors now?" he turned ghastly serious, uncharacteristically so.

Aodhan wields Bear's Cry.

Mathias grins, his attention turning to Cybele... and then the thing makes his appearance. "What the fu--" The Knight of Solace is quick on his feet, drawing forth his blade, but just as quickly, it's gone. "Anyone seeing it still?" he asks, looking around, failing to see anything.

Darren's applause is drawn to a sharp and sudden end at the appearance of the voice, his own features falling as he looks around and propels himself up to his feet. The appearance of the pale man leaves him blinking, but his face turns stony, gaze locking onto the man with grim determination. "Fuck off," he sneers just before the man disappears, gripping the pommel of his sword and slipping it out of its sheath, as he comes along to Freja.

Mira freezes at the apparition. Her eyes very slightly wide and her blood cold, she glances aside and rubs the back of her neck, turning her own dark blue eyes down and aside as everyone bustles and arms and gets jittery. She just sits there, being very small and frozen.

Ann is on her feet in a heart beat, her pen upraised like she's about to throw it. Her arm halts though, when the blonde thing disappears and doesn't return after several heart beats. So the Redrain Princess just stands there, pen cocked.

At the sound of the voice, of the 'pet name' of 'bear cub', Freja had frozen entirely as her eyes widen with recognition of the tone. Her eyes close tightly, jaw clenching as she looks physically pained by something before the pale man appears. Her eyes open suddenly then, frozen in place as the demon leans in for that kiss and she seems to go weak at its proximity, almost ragdoll as she has to fall back and grasp at the altar for support. It isn't until after the laughter has done echoing, vanishing into the night while others draw arms that Freja sinks to the ground, the palms of her hands pressed against her temples. "P-please...it is gone, gone now. I can't hear its chorus anymore. Go on. Please." she urges them all, almost begging for a distraction. She looks to Cybele, silently pleading.

When the... guy appears suddenly Jhond's hand moves to the back of his belt and the handle of his knife.. but then it is gone and the others already have their blades drawn... instead of moving towards Freja he looks down at the others gathered, eyes roaming over them to settle on Mira and he moves about the benches to come settle down next to her with a little nudge at her side with his shoulder.

Ferrando stands very deliberately, gripping his mace and frowning as he looks to the perimeter, mostly taking up a guarding stance to intercept anything inbound on the rather-less-fighty Princess and cousin. He relaxes slightly at Freja's urging, but seems to accept her conclusion. "All right."

"I can't hear the chorus either," Cybele murmurs quietly, giving a little squeeze to Freja's shoulder. "I think he's gone. I think he's gone now." The last said with more of a raised voice. "I can't see him or hear his victims. I think he's gone." At Freja's urging, Cybele refills the mug of ale, and moves to the altar, settling cross-legged before it, the tall staff leant against a shoulder, the mug resting in the shaman's lap. "I can try to lighten the mood, just a little."

Mira squeaks and flinches hard enough to actually hop a couple inches to the side when Jhond nudges her! Looking up in shock, she scowls and swats his arm. "Don't sneak up on people like that when demons might be lurking about!"

Aodhan when Freja urges, he slowly sheathes his blade, but remains on guard, looking at everyone. He eventually murmured "What in the fu....what was that?" he looked around, his arms hiding in his fur coat as it enveloped him.

"Is that what ran Agnarr through?" Ann asks, regaining her wits and dropping her hand quickly. "The thing he said is stalking him?"

Darren comes to stand beside Freja, giving her a look of concern. He presses his hand to his arm as she begs to continue, and gives a firm nod to Cybele. "Please. Continue," he says to the Shaman, before he squeezes Freja's arm and walks towards the grove's exit, momentarily leaving onto the grounds. When he returns, it is with /several/ guards, who filter in and take defensive positions around the area.

2 Grayson Guardsmen, Max, an emperor tamarin, Rosalee, The Champion, Edward arrive, following Ailys.

"Son of a..." Mathias shakes his head, but when both Freja and Cybele proclaim the demon gone, he relaxes, sitting back down... but his sword still in his lap. Not quite relaxed enough to sheathe it just yet.

Jhond raises a brow to Mira and shakes his head with a little smile, "I didn't sneak up on you Mira..." his smiles softens a bit and he leans in to speak quietly to her.

Darren's squeeze to her arm gives Freja a moment of reassurance and she offers him a weak smile, but stays in her seat on the floor as Cybele takes the center stage. For now, Freja is wholly content to avoid looking at anyone directly - a complete shift from the woman that was weaving the tale only minutes before.

Cybele clears their throat, taking a sip of beer, and idly begins tapping the mug to the staff, providing a wooden beat and a metallic, syncopated jingle to follow it. "In the Everwinter, the Sun chases across the sky every day, looking for prey, hunting for her tribe. But there are times, in the coldest months, when she needs to go on the other side of the mirror, to hunt the demons there. She knows she will return triumphant. She bids her tribe celebrate her, and remember her as she slips into the Lands Between." The shaman's blue eyes are gleaming, the tall prodigal grinning.

"And so it is that the moon holds wake for the longest night, and the stars put on their finest garb, which reminds them of their sister sun, and they dance across the sky to echo the light she shares with us. To help us see, and get things done. So it has been, since the beginning of time."

Mira murmurs to Jhond, picks up the wooden mug Ferrando got her, and downs the *entire* thing in one, extended chug. She sets it down with a thud.

Ailys enters escorted by her guards and an extra escort because she can! Princess Grayson looks around and then releases her escorts arm as they make their way into the Grove. She looks around and she grabs herself a drink as she finds somewhere she can watch the event.

Edward escorts Princess Ailys in and he takes in the gathering and what is going on with some interest. He pauses to take up a drink as well and follows the Princess to a place of observation. Putting his focus of attention upon those speaking.

Ferrando's eyebrows rise as he listens to the tale of strange Everwinter weather phenomenons. No sun? His mind is apparently at least semi-blown, although there are some that would argue this is more of a permanent feature of his.

Cybele pauses the beat - though not the ring of the chimes - to take a large gulp of beer. Licking at lips, eyes glittering. "[300This was when the giants still walked, and one of them was vain. He envied the stars their winter garb, and so he reached out and plucked it from the sky, stealing the moon to wear as a gem with his new robes, tying him down into a crown. The land was left in darkness. The stars were left to weep. And so it was left for Skald to track him down, to his hall in the icy vales in the farthest north. He challenged the giant. He riddled him, and he wrestled him, and he seduced him. And finally, he took the robe of stars and the crown of the moon, and he snuck away. But the giant was furious at being tricked, and bested, and heartbroken. And he followed Skald, striking down the trees to keep Skald from hiding in the northlands. That is why there are no trees, in the furthest north." The shaman offers this as a natural truth.

"They ran, and ran, and you can still find signs of their chase - odd rocks thrown here and there, or strange outcroppings or glens, where Skald worked magic or the giant breathed frost enough to turn trees to stone. Until finally, they reached the rivers that run past Farhaven..."

Once the guards have been positioned, Darren lingers by the entrance, listening to Cybele's tale for a few minutes before he quietly dips out.

Darren has left the benches.

Fuzzy Wuzzy, Squee, the Flying Squirrel, Brigid leave, following Darren.

Jhond leans in to Mira again after watching her down that cup of mead to murmer some more with a glance towards Cybele and her story.

Freja is still near the altar, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of her knees as she watches Cybele's tale with rapt fascination - anything to distract from the earlier happening.

The shaman grins broadly, gaze going to Freja, then across the audience, catching eyes her and there. Speaking to them, individually. Voice lowering, just a little - enough to lend a hint of intimacy and secrecy, while still being audible to all. "Now, it is known, Skald is wise and cunning, but at this point he found himself at the end of his wits - the river was too wide to leap over, and the sun was rising in the east - they'd chased each other across the Everwinter for all of the winter. And the Sun would want to know where her brother was. But the ice was melting, and the rivers warming. Floes rushing, making it too dangerous for a man to swim."

Cybele's grin broadens. "For a man, that is, but not for a fish, and so Skald taunted the giant, and quickly turned his hat widdershins three times, then leapt to the waters as scales covered his body, turning himself into a salmon, leaping happily up the stream!"

There's a pause, the young prodigal's eyes widen. But oh! The giant was faster than he thought, and it grabbed him with both hands, and it squeezed, and told him, it would squeeze the life out of him, and take the moon and stars, and then go beat the sun to add to his prideful garb!" A deep breath. A shudder of fear. Cybele looks wide-eyed at their audience.
%"And do you know what happened?" Cy asks, voice lowering again. Drawing breath. "He wiggled, and he squirmed, and he tied his scales tighter around him, making him thinner, until his slimy scales slid from the giant's grip - and he could leap up a waterfall, and escape. And he put the moon back in the sky, and he and the Sun were most happy. And the stars, for one year, wore their garb to taunt the giant, who got so mad that he burst in fury, his rage at the clever Skald causing his heart to POP!" Cybele claps their hands, letting out an almost childlike giggle.

"And that, my friends, is why salmon bodies taper towards the tail. Wearing their scales tight, in memory of the time Skald saved the sun. That's also why sometimes, you can see the rainbow in their hide."

Ferrando laughs genuinely at the tale's conclusion, the unexpected twists and turns seeming to delight him and banish at least some of the residual tension from the pale blonde interloper from earlier. He applauds Cybele with gusto.

Mira smiles, clapping at the conclusion of the story. She looks a little better than she did, the bantering of Ferrando and Jhond seeming to have helped her relax. Still, there's a bit of an edge as she glances around. Just in case. Keeping watch. She comments to Ferrando quietly, "Have you ever been to Farhaven?" She looks aside at Jhond, "I have to admit, aside from a brief journey to Darkwater, I've not traveled much."

Aodhan claps at the conclusion of Cybele's story! thinking it to be a wonderful tale.

Freja rises to her feet then and is a different woman, giving the other Shaman a hug that lingers at the tales conclusion. As she pulls back from the embrace, her smile has returned - somewhat forced and genuine both. "Thank you, that was a fine tail." Ba dunn tss. The Redrain went for the pun.

Ailys is overheard praising Cybele for: A grand telling of a story. Great storyteller!

Edward applauds and smiles as the story concludes as he nods his head. He tilts his head to say something softly to the Princess Ailys before he turns his attention back to the center.

"Usually," Cybele returns, with a grin, with a squeeze for Freja. "When the Children of the Sun and the Moon tell it, they linger far more on Skald's exploits in the giants hall, including all the members of the giant's household he bedded. There are lots of details I omitted," the young prodigal admits, with a slight flush to their cheeks. Then, the shaman rises, and raises their mug, draining a large part of it, before offering a bow, and stepping aside, to leave the stage to Freja again.

Ferrando shakes his head at Mira with a grimace. "Forget Farhaven, I've never been further north than -Arx-. What'd you end up in Darkwater for?" His mouth opens in shock. "You went for the tattoos, didn't you," he breathes in total mock scandalization. He squints and leans to look around her. "There's a mermaid swordfighting a shark on your ass now, isn't there."

Ailys nods her head as she claps, she grins and turns - overheard she says loudly "what a great story, bravo!" says the Princess as she smiles to her escort and she nods her head as she looks about those who have remained.

Jhond gives a nod to Ferrando and a murmured response with a jerk of his head towards Mira before smiling to the woman, "I've travelled all over the Compact... though only in the North during the summer. It DOES stay day up there most of the time for a bit during that season. The further north you go the more pronounced it gets... and the opposite in winter so they say. Weeks without dawn." a shiver... and then a grin at Ferrando's accusation to Mira.

Mira laughs and runs a hand along her hip, holding her skirt flush against her leg as she leans away from Ferrando! "A mermaid swordfighting a /shark/?" She shakes her head, eyeing her cousin sidelong with amusement, "That's not what I would come up with." She waits a moment before blinking, blushing a bit, "Not that I *have* mind you." She narrows her eyes, scrunching her nose a bit, "That you know of."

Serenity arrives, following Khanne.

Ailys shifts a little as she laughs softly, she listens to the words that travel from person to person and she smiles easily while not really talking much herself. The princess watches the shaman princess with a degree of intrest

Ferrando gets a bit wide-eyed at Jhond. "That's so weird! A night that lasts for weeks. I guess a lot of people up there must have pretty close birthdays." He turns to eye his Mira and deadpans, "It's all right, one day we'll bump into each other in the Grotto and all will be revealed." He exhales sadly. "And then I'll be terribly disappointed in your lack of ass tattoo creativity." He sees more shamans inbound, and this spurs him to consider the idea that maybe ass tattoos are a topic best shelved until the end of the ceremony. He clears his throat suddenly and sits straighter at the bench to be a better, more attentive attendee. And drinks whiskey.

Khanne slips into the grove quietly, her Falcon, Serenity, flying high above, enjoying some freedom. She appears to be a bit stressed, judging by the look on her face. She nods to Freja and Cybele, a silent greeting, and perhaps apology for having missed the festivities.

Freja moves back to the center again and motions for Cybele to join her. "Thank you all for the time and your..patience with our uninvited guest." She says of the demon, swatting the air as if she were swatting at a fly. "Let us move on to the more meaningful matters, a ritual and prayer to the Spirits. Will those that wish to join step forward?"

The Lord Redreef smiles while he continues to drink from the mug he picked up and listen to the floating conversations. He tilts his head and then he tilts his head to say something softly to the Princess he stands next to. When the ritual is mentioned he straightens up and pays more attention.

Ferrando has left the benches.

Ferrando does have a small story to tell so gets up from the benches and joins the step-forwarders.

At the mention of the demon, Khanne looks to Freja with an arched brow, followed by a frown and a soft hmmm.

Mira scowls at Ferrando, "Hey, I can be creative when I want to be." That's a lie. A bold-faced lie. But still she huffs and folds her arms under her chest, looking indignant. Immediately afterward, she thrusts her empty mug at Jhond, "Mead, please." She grumbles, hunkering down a bit. "A lot of mead."

"Nothing so exciting as a mermaid swordfighting a shark for her." Jhond says with a grin and shake of his head. "If anything she'd get a list of court cases and precedents inked on her backside." he looks to Freja than and lowers his voices before nodding to Mira with a smile to take her empty mug and moves off to refill it.

Ferrando is definitely not imagining Mira with court docket records tattooed to her ass and snickering as he heads to the altar. It must just be some nasal congestion or something.

Mira peers after Ferrando and scowls a little more at what that expression may or may not mean. As for Jhond, she frowns, pouting a bit, "What's wrong with a tattoo of certain laws? It's stylish and classy." She blinks, once. "If one were going to indulge in Darkwater-ian practices." Huff.

Freja catches sight of Khanne and motions her closer with a bright smile, "We can, and will defend and defeat them. Until the Last." She echoes her House's words and and then closes her eyes, slipping into the archaic Northern tongues of the North as she offers up a prayer of reference to whatever spirits still linger here.

Ailys looks over to Jhond and she smiles a bit, "really inked?" she asks with a giggle though the Princess tries to be good, and when Mira asks she giggles a little bit more before she shakes her head.

Khanne has joined the altar.

Mira suddenly hops up, wide-eyed, and darts over to the altar. This is why she came tonight!!

Mira has left the benches.

Mira has joined the altar.

"Until the Last," Cybele agrees. Then murmurs in Northlands Shav, joining in Freja's prayer, adding a low alto counter-harmony to the Scout of the Snows' ritual.

Ailys moves up though she looks to Freja, "Ive never done anything like this before, is that ok?"

Khanne slinks over to the altar, glancing at her for a moment. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, reaching up with a hand to run a finger slowly up and down her forehead, above the bridge of her nose. She is far too unbalanced, having just arrived, and before she can speak to the Spirits at all, she must find her center.

Freja will wait until Khanne finds her center, Cybele to stand beside them both, and then lead the chant taught to her years ago by Drea - surely the other two will recognize. It is a steady rhythm, building up on itself in small waves before reaching a culmination of hum - silent offers and prayers made from each individual of their own accord, their own boons for the gifts of the Spirits is transactional always.

Edward watches as Ailys moves up to the front to join the ritual while he hangs back. He takes his time now to take a closer look at those gathered, looking for the kinds of things out of sorts or unusual that gave him warning a few nights ago.

Ailys just stands near, more to support then to partake, she did not know anything about this but she was a curious princess and she moved over to watch and mimic some of the shamans

Ann steps forth, too, participating in the ritual.

Khanne exhales softly as she rids herself of a bit of the tension she carries. Joining in with Freja quietly once she recognizes the chant she too has heard from Drea. It is though, when they reach that quiet hum that she begins her own silent blessings to the Spirits, and the energies of nature all around. Nearly oblivious to all else in the moment as she lets her thoughts guide her through her own, private offering.

Mira clasps her hands demurely in front of her, still wearing her long black cloak over her shoulders. It's open now, though, and she watches the shamans patiently, not quite sure what to expect or do. Eventually catching the gist of what the trio are doing, however, Mira closes her eyes and bows her head a bit, murmuring something under her breath.

Cybele's chant rises in pitch, and the shaman thunks the tall, metal-adorned staff to the ground before them in a marching beat to go with the chant, for more jingling, chiming sounds, reaching out, offering blessings to Ailys, to Mira, to Ann and the others stepping forth, beckoning the spirits to listen to their requests, offering promise of respect and sacrifice to them in turn.

There is no flashy smoke, no kindling of sudden balefire to welcome the Spirits or herald their heeding of offer. All is quite, but most importantly all is calm. The wind is calm, there is the familiar and comforting sound of spring's insects chirping in the trees. The motes of fireflies dance forever out of reach, flitting in out and out vision as they blink their messages to one another.
     But still, in the incense that burns, herbs of the archaic North, lingers something familiar to every soul present. It is hard to place and differs for each, but some may think they hear something, see something in the shadows cast by the tall stones. But, night has a way of playing tricks on us all and it leaves one wondering if it is their own hearts that reaffirms them or a trick of the mind, or something else.

all is quiet*

Ferrando's muttered story finishes, and his quiet contemplation ends with a certain flicker of shadow glanced out of the corner of his eye. He looks up to the side, then ahead at the altar thoughtfully for a moment before smiling.

Octohopper, a prismatic jumping spider have been dismissed.

There is something...and Edward closes his eyes and begins to tap his foot as he hums softly. A smile widens on his face and he tilts his head as if he can hear something, something faint and far off. He mumbles some words in a soft singsong manner as he continues to tap his foot. He does this for a couple minutes and then he opens his eyes and finishes the mead in his cup.

Mathias watches the ritual, though he does not participate. He's a man of the Faith, not Spirits. But that doesn't mean he's going to be disrespectful in their most sacred place. They're all members of the Compact, aren't they? He stands after all's said and done, nods to those present and takes his leave.

Jhond moves back to the benches, refilled cups of mead in his hand and waits in respectful silence for the ritual to complete.

Ailys turns also to go, murmuring to whatever might hear her. "Watch over my brother.." She is heard saying as she moves from the Altar and to the exit

Mira eventually takes in a deep breath, opening her eyes as she does so, and she curtseys to the trio of shamans before heading back to Jhond. Taking the mug of mead, she smiles and nods, "Thanks. You should have gone up there." She tips back the mug more cautiously this time, drinking in something close to moderation.

Khanne opens her eyes and seems much more at peace than when she first arrived. She smiles with a release of breath, touching Freja's arm, and then Cybele's before walking over to one of the stone pillars.

When all is said and done, Ann moves to offer her thanks to Freja and Cybele, mumbling something quietly to the former before taking a step back to allow others to approach.

Cybele offers another smile to the people at the ritual, as the chant comes to an end - returning Khanne's touch, and murmuring to her and Freja. Bowing her head to Ann as the Redrain approaches.

Ferrando gets to his feet and bows appreciatively to the trio of shamans, making his exit but stopping next to Ann first.

With Ailys moving to leave he will go to rejoin her, taking up his escort position in the ring of her other escorts as they go to depart.

Freja offers a weak smile to all, muttering something to Khanne and Cybele before she says aloud, "Thank you all for attending, but I must see to my own rest now. If you have questions, prayers, or anything at all you wish to speak with me about I am always just a missive away." And with that, she moves slowly back towards the Redrain estate.