Chapter 4: New Day

Verrian snaps, "What makes you think nobody wants to go home, Ember? Of course we want to go home. Some of us have no idea whether home still exists!"

She turns away, hands on her hips, and stares at the ground. When she feels she's gotten her emotions under control again, she turns to look at her companions. "I'm sorry. I'm... having a difficult time being away from my people. I can't really convey how disorienting it is to..." She shakes her head. "Anyway, let's just keep in mind that we were sent here on a mission. It's open-ended, and we have wide discretion. But we need to keep reporting back to Athisa on a regular basis. She could have information that will help us to know where to go next."

I’m sorry.

Ember’s sitting up, face red. She doesn’t understand, but....well, she is starting to see how hard it is.

How far away from a Naucan can you be and still hear them?

They’re on the wrong side of Meriava to see her home any time soon.

Wil approaches Verrian quietly.

I met a couple of small groups of Naucans in my travels.
I know it is a very pale imitation of the silent speech, but I am willing to open myself and you can see if maybe they are someone you recognize. Or maybe they mentioned something that I can either not remember, or that would mean more to you than it did to me.

He looks at her trusting his mind to her.

Elora has been silently listening to the group talk, still eyeing the thrush as it sits on her shoulder. "Ooh that's so sad...Good for you Will..." With volume which barely surpasses a whisper (so as not to interrupt anyone) she makes a few idle comments on what she's hearing.

All these mentions of home draw Yelnar’s attention despite his best efforts at meditation.

"Hmmph" he grunts in a pondering way, then starts talking softly, idly, almost to himself. "If I’ve learnt anything from all this, the home you remember doesn’t exist anymore. Even if it hasn’t changed at all, I have. I’m not sure I could go back like it was before, knowing what I know now. The world is a much more complicated place than I ever could have imagined. Sometimes you need to see it to understand. Guess I better start making it..." He trails off, lost in contemplation, his ability to stay present lost on him for the moment.

At least you know what happened to it. Lucky you live so close to Meriava.

Wil....Why are you so quick to let people into your head?

Sighing, Verrian says, "It doesn't matter - I can't read anyone's mind. Naucans can only share and read images and emotions with other Naucans. All I can do with any of you is send you my verbal thoughts. I can't receive anything from any of you."

She looks at Wil urgently. "But if you describe the Naucans you've come across, I might be able to figure out who they were, if I've met them." It's clear that she's hoping she will recognize the descriptions, and you realize that you've never seen Verrian this transparently eager. The prospect of learning anything about the fate of her people is clearly overwhelming her normal self-restraint.

Wil turns to Ember.
I am not quick to allow people in my head, but this obviously means a lot to Verrian and I trust her.

He shrugs as if that is all that needs to be said.

Hmmmm. It appears that rumours are incorrect. Well Verrian, fear not. Luckily you have a master story teller with an eye for detail.

He looks around

I mean me by the way.

I will do my best to describe the group I met.

He gets up and paces while speaking.

I told you how the group of halfling clerics and fighters spread out to help where we could. We started in small groups and one or two would break off every so often. I was still traveling with two other fighters and one cleric.

Just after we crossed into Alcave and we heard the sounds of fighting. We hurried over the hill and saw a small group of Naucans beset by a handful of human bandits with a half orc leader.

There was one younger male on the ground. Standing in front of him was a male with a staff and a female with a belt knife. Behind them were two children.

The adult's markings were glowing fiery red, while the children flickered between red and yellow.

We yelled and got their attention. The bandits were good against an untrained family, but not good against trained and armed enemies. We got lucky and the half orc took an arrow to the eye. The rest did not put up much of a fight.

Our cleric got everyone healed up, including the man who had been down.

Wil notes how intense Verrian is watching him and realizes that he should have started with descriptions.

I am sorry Verrian, you asked me what they looked like and I told you everything but that.

The man with the staff was the most notable. He was tall with blond hair. His facial markings were a light brown. They went over his eyebrows so he always looked a little surprised. He said the others were his daughter, her husband and their children.
The daughter was also blond. Her markings were more concentrated on her cheeks and looked almost like stars.

The children were shy, so I can't really describe them. The man who had been wounded had dark hair and a darker colouration. His markings were either dark as well, or very faint. I couldn't see them from a distance.

Once everyone was healed up, they said there was a large group of Naucans further south near the Alcave, Valerma border. Our cleric and one of the fighters were planning on heading that way, so they said they would go with them for a little added security.

The last I saw of them, they were happy, healthy, and headed south.

The second meeting was much more fleeting. It was about a week west of here. I met a pair of males. We exchanged greetings and that was all.

One had reddish hair and a ruddy complexion. His marking were perhaps the most visible I have seen. They were three concentric circles on each cheek.
The other was shorter and more fair of skin. Light blue hair and very pale blue eyes. He was as close to an albino as you could get. His markings were much like yours. Almost a dusting of freckles.

At Wil's description of the blond man with the markings over his eyebrows, Verrian gasps slightly, her facial markings initially flashing a vibrant green, then partially sliding into a blueish hue, even purple here and there. It's all pretty subtle, but if you understand anything about how Naucan emotions are expressed through these markings, you know that Verrian seems to be experience a complex mix of emotions.

Then the colors fade away, presumably as she regains her composure. "His name is Boslo - the older man protecting his daughter's family. He was my chief of staff during my time as a diplomat. On that final visit to Meriava, he'd stayed behind to oversee disposition of some documents. He'd planned to join me the following day, but the wards went up." Her shoulders slump, either in exhaustion or relief. "For three years, I've thought about him every day, wondering if he'd gotten back to Nauca safely or had... become a casualty of the wars. At least now I know that he survived, and that he was reunited with his family." She pauses, frowning. "I do wonder why they were traveling so far from Nauca, and why they left our kinship."
The description of the second man prompts Verrian to grimace slightly. "The red-haired man doesn't ring a bell, but the other one sounds very much like someone I knew in my youth. We were close for a long time, until he..." She stops, shaking her head. "Well, wherever he was going, chances are he was up to no good."

From things that were said, I have a feeling the man you knew...Boslo...was bringing his family somewhere safe. Maybe he left your kinship to find them.

Other than the attack we interrupted, the family all looked well. No injuries, well fed. We had come across a lot of refugees...your friends did not have that look.

Again, the variety of colors cross Verrian's markings, but only briefly. Her smile is full of gratitude. "Thank you for telling me all of this, Wil. You can't know what it means to get this information."

Wil bows in an exaggerated showy way, virtually scraping the ground with his hand.

Happy to be of service mi'lady.

In all seriousness though, you are very welcome.

Wil looks around.

Anyone else have a story, or questions about my travels? You may not have noticed, but I like to hear myself talk.

Ember watches Verrian's face in amazement. She wishes she knew what the Naucan was thinking. Wishes the woman had a way to reach her people. Get out of the "fish bowl." But she's happy Wil seems to know so much. There's a chance, then.

I thought you were a fighter, not a bard, she muses, an edge of her calmness finally returning. She pauses, then looks between Wil and Epwrath for a moment.

Does....anyone know any stories of Ocassa?

She points to her dark left eye.

Despite all this, I'm actually pretty clueless.

Wil bows again. If possible even more over the top than the last time.

My dear Ember, you flatter me. I am no bard. I believe our little thrush friend would flee in terror if I were to break into song. No not a bard.

Wil smiles wistfully.

Just a storyteller. I am happy to tell you what I know of Occasa. The fair lady of the moon spends her evenings chased across the sky by Orien in his sun chariot. Or so we are taught as children.

I am not sure that is what literally happens of course. I am no cleric, nor particularly religious. Much to my mother's dismay, but I have travelled quite a bit with clerics of Occasa.

Wil looks at Ember, and starts to pace as he gets into his story.

Occasa has many facets. While some of them seem contradictory, healing and death. Travel and repose. Charm and liberation. When I asked my friend Kulos, a cleric of Occasa about this he said that a dark moonless night is not like an early evening under the full moon.

Wil stops and sighs dramatically.

I told him that it was no explanation at all. He told me I would understand in time and he would pray for me.

Wil looks at Ephwrath.

No offense, but if clerics explained things to me more clearly, fewer of them would have to pray for me.

I have learned that prayers said in the open under the moon are more favourable to her. Honest gamblers turn to her for luck. Sailors believe she calms the seas and most people, myself included, say a silent prayer to The Maiden of the Moon, before setting out on a long voyage.

He is slowing his pacing, a sign his story is wrapping up.

There are many stories of Occasa appearing at a traveler's campsite on a moonlit night testing their charity.

He looks slyly at Verrian.

But maybe the sightings were just Naucans looking for dinner.

Well Ember, it is not much, but I hope there was something of use for you.

Yelnar listens to Wil’s tales intently, amazed at the little fellows ability to be so bold and confident speaking to everyone.

The joke at the end goes over Yelnar’s head at first. About 5 minutes later he lets out a surprised snort laugh, then blushes and looks down embarrassed, but impressed at the ease with which Wil is able to make light of their travels and lift everyone’s spirits.

There is something inherently calming about Wil's story. The lilt in his voice, the way the halfling commands attention despite his stature. Even the ease with which he spins his knowledge with his experience.

It helps put Ember at ease.Almost.

So is she...good? Tides are good. Light in the darkness is good. But sometimes the moon is invisible when travelers need its light the most.

Her eyes are two shades. The uneasy relation to what Wil's described is not lost on her.

I guess.....how do people make her happy?

"...That's something I wish to know too. I usually read books about horrible creatures or tragic events, sometimes blamed by the gods. I've never really looked into how to please a god." Elora watches intently, full of curiosity.

Wil takes Ember's hand and speaks quietly to her.

Ember, you don't have to worry about pleasing Occasa. You are a good person with a big heart. If Occasa can't see that, then there are indeed clouds over the moon.

He turns to Elora and the rest.

I think if we worry about being good people, staying true to our friends, and helping those who need it...well, I think the gods will take care of themselves.

Listening to Wil's stories about Occasa manages to strike a comforting resonance in Verrian. His words call up images in her mind, and she allows herself to pretend that he's sent the images to her telepathically. (She's very glad that Adaye isn't there to witness this extremely childish behavior; then again, if there were another Naucan around, Verrian wouldn't need to resort to it.)

Wil's indirect joke about her Occasa impersonation surprises a giggle from her, which sounds foreign to her ears these days but familiar to her heart. Something inside her decides that this is okay, and she relaxes into a feeling of contentment. She listens as the girls each ask their questions and basks in the kindly warmth of Wil's answers. When Yelnar suddenly gives a surprising snort of laughter, she can see from his embarrassment that he's not reacting to anything being said in the moment. She smiles at him to reassure him that no one is taking it amiss.

She thinks again of her Occasa impersonation and says, "You know, that glamour I used against the necromancer wasn't something I just made up. It came from a story passed down in my family for generations. My great-great-great grandfather, Solon of Cyr, claimed to have had a personal encounter with Occasa. He shared his memory of the encounter with everyone in the family, and they in turn passed that memory along. We do that with a lot of important events or teachings - it's the Naucan equivalent of what other cultures call the oral tradition.

"By the time it was passed to my generation, the memory was a little... faded. Details were probably lost or mis-remembered by some of those passing it down. Ironically, that makes it more likely that it's a real memory rather than just a parable he made up; a crafted story would have been more polished and easier to repeat accurately. Anyway, the one part of the memory that was still crystal clear was Occasa's appearance. I used that image as the model for my glamour - except I made her a lot bigger in an effort to make her more intimidating to that poor evil wretch. In Solon's memory, she was just normal humanoid size."