IC - Village of Limm

Ognimir grabs the first young, able-looking person he can. He leans down from Maple's back, reaches out, and clamps his hideous hand upon their shoulder. Hard. He makes his tattoos obvious.
"Hey." He gives them a bit of a shake. When they realize he's a Guardian he then says, "Stop what you're doing. I have an injured horse here that is more important. Where are the stables? And who manages your village safety?"

All of this fuss over one dead man? This doesn't seem right, he thinks. Limm needs to get its priorities straight. Unless this talk of the dead rising is more than they have let the Guardians know....

Indeed there is, thinks Quintus Quail. He has made his feelings about our late flautist quite clear.

To Ciara, Quintus says, "Of course. Take courage, miss. You are young and have the world before you." As much of it as one can see from Limm, anyway. Turning to Damir, he adds, "Do we have anything else for her?"

Ciara's words burn in his ears: "But they couldn't compare to Tiyem. He had such a personality ... and his music!"

Well he heard enough. Danill shoots up and stalks off into the surrounding wood. Within seconds he's throwing rocks at trees--one of his favorite pasttimes when he's angry. And he's always angry.

He finds himself back at the edge of the village proper. And look, another guardian. Big fellow too, he thinks. He strides toward Ognimar.

Ognimir heaves from his horse, hands the reigns to the boy, and orders him to take Maple back to the stables. Then he marches over to Stobben and Rabban.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots Danill approaching. He looks at Stobben, then at the bier, and then to Rabban. Then he throws down the bag full of mirror-wolf pelts.
"I slayed what likely defiled your boy. Two mirror-wolves, fierce and hungry."

He drops the bag so it opens but does not spill. Letting them witness the last of the day's light dance on the sharp shards.

"The veil is weak here. There is more work to be done. If it is true those touched by the veil spawn come back, best say your goodbyes and get him on the fire."

Ognimir stands, with the attitude of impatience and disinterest in their grief.

"I am sure, your young man was special and fair. We'll honour him by finding his slayer." Damir comforts the woman as best he can. Then adds: Ciara, if I might ask and presume that you know: Among your suitors or .. protectors, is there one apt with arrow and bow?"

Danill comes in in the middle of Ognimir's conversation about the wolf pelts. His face lightens a bit and he whistles is appreciation at the Guardian's haul.

"You killed 'em yourself," he asks Ognimir. Clearly, Danill also has no interest in the villagers' grief. "An what kinda work is there to be done?"

Ognimir eyes Danill. He's seen his fair share of lazy cast-abouts while working the docks. This disheveled one makes him think of a few unfortunate souls he snatched and sent to work the seas.

"One caught Maple's hoof-- and the other, I smashed the weak spot between its ears."

He kicks the bag with his toe just a bit.

"The borders need another sweep. Who knows what else leaked from the veil. Limm isn't safe until we scout the lengths. "

Ognimir puts an emphasis on "we" to indicate he doesn't think Danill isn't good enough to be included in that group. "You from around here?" Most of the people from Limm have been hardworking farmer types-- this Danill doesn't fit in.

"It weren't wolves that did for him, miss," Quintus informs Ciara sadly. "But tell us about them." His multicolored robe rustles and shifts as he leans towards her, interested. "Are these wolves as nature intended them to be, or perhaps denizens from beyond the Veil? What time of night are they typically seen in these parts?"

Damir puts a hand on her shoulder again and waits for her to calm. He lets warmth seep into his eyes as he says:
"Girl, you have done well and helped us a lot.
Now tis time to go pay our respects at the pyre.
We'll see that the evil gets caught.
Let's go show Limm you're fine - it's what they require."
The man stands and turns to leave. He waits a moment so Quintus has opportunity to say or ask what he wishes, then moves outside towards the people of this village.

Danill closes his slightly agape mouth as he listens to Ognimir. He nods along, emphatically, as if he also rides horses into battle and patrols the Veil regularly.

In response to Ognimir asking where he's from: "Me? From round here? Nah." he makes a face of boredom.

"I'm from the city. Used to make collections for my uncle--folks who couldn't pay off their loans. I'm out here till some things quiet down."

He shrugs. "Don't much fit here though. Folk round here don't much like when ya punch others. They're impressed by things like music playin' and the like."

He scoffs. "It's as if just playing an instrument makes you nice. Eh, but I'm sure you know how it is." Danill eyes the Guardian's gear.

"I know where your friends are; I could show you if'n you like."

Quintus stands as well. He brushes down his robes with rather fastidious, snake-entwined palms, then nods his readiness to depart.

Ognimir turns his attention to Stobben and Rabban. How are they reacting to Danill? Ognimir is looking to get a sense if Danill is welcome around these parts or a nuisance. "A collector, eh?" Ognimir recalls a few bodies fished out of the wharf in his time. Those who couldn't pay up given the final collection, so to speak. Although Danill is tall and lanky, Ognimir imagines he could be formidable with a saber or knife-- with the reach his long arms afford.

Ognimir unconsciously adjusts his armor.

Danill puffs his chest out slightly--does someone finally see his worth?!

"Aye. And I was a mighty fine one at that. It ain't my fault what happens after I hit someone. Some people don't know how to fall. And if those people have powerful families it can ruin a man's career."

Danill screws up his face in annoyance at all the wailing and grieving. He gestures at the nearby villagers. "Good luck gettin' this lot to help ya with your duties. But me; I could be of use. I know these woods. I spend a lot of time there trackin'."

The fear of rejection obvious in Danill's eyes, especially considering he knows he actually just mopes in the forest most days. But the Gaurdian doesn't need to know that, he thinks.

Ognimir looks down his nose at Danill for a long beat. He looks at Stobben and Rabban, and admits the truth -- their grief has made them useless. He gathers up the bag of mirror-wolf pelts then turns to go. He takes a few steps, then turns back and looks at Danill as if to say, "well come on then."


"What sort of weapon do you have, a sword, a bow, perhaps? And what of the Panwols? You know them, are they going to be willing...and capable.." he winces as the wailing of the mourners hits a high note. "... of helping?"

Ognimir makes a special effort to watch Danill's reaction about his question about a bow.

As they leave the girl's cottage, Quintus Quail looks round for Danill. Not finding him, Quintus says apart to Damir, "I need not remind you, sir, that our recent acquaintance expressed both a fondness for this Ciara and what I must consider a troubling disdain towards the late Tiyem." He pauses, raises his eyebrows to point his dark surmise: that Danill Krahl is a suspect in the young musician's murder.

"We should also locate this Dommic fellow. If one or both of them proves to be handy with a bow..."

With a skip and a hop, Danill scurries along after Ognimir Krin.

He answers the Gaurdian as he keeps pace with him. "I've got meself a sword an' sheild I won off a merchant's guard. Ive never used a bow, but I do have a sling I've got rabbits with. I also found a beartrap in the forest once, and have it in my room at the inn."

"As for the Panwols," he shrugs, "I think ya can get 'em doing your bidding if you have an air of authority. They're just a bunch of bumpkins after all. I doubt they'll be capable though. Not like us, anyway." He snickers.

Danill gestures a lot while talking; it's clear under observation
that he doesn't have the hands, or forearms for the matter, of an archer.