Players: Black Silk Star, Master of the Hunting Mist

Posted by Master of the Hunting Mist

Black Silk Star rides into town, on a decent looking palamino, the setting sun in the west painting the road that cuts through Cloverton. His cloak marks him as a rich man, the cowl pulled down to shadow his face. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the hood, as he looks about for something resembling an inn.

         Walking into town at the end of the day, Hunting Mist is leading Savage Yoshi by a few paces, the trail dust covering his almost up to his chest, his legs a touch wobbly from the hard ride. He lowers his hat against the setting sun, and peers out the side at folk he notices as he walks by. Another town, another place for troubles to accumulate and see to.

Black Silk Star hmms quietly, as he notices the man with the... lizard... thing. "A strange kind of beast, that," he remarks. "But I suppose next you'll tell me ya raise 'em on a ranch just outside of town." His voice is a curious mixture of Thorns properity and Nexian drawl, and something underlying them both, harsher than either.

         Hearing the voice, not placing it with any particular accuracy, Hunting Mist tips his hat to the unseen face with the sun behind him. "Nope. Unless you count raisin' cattle t'feed them. This one was part of a pack that didn't quite manage to get away. He's learning th'way of things, an' I never seen cattle move so eagerly on a herding in my life. Good mount as any to be had, if you can tame them."

Beneath the hood, there's a brief impression of a smile. Or, at least, a flashing of teeth. "Of course. You from around these parts?"

You say, "Of course. You ain't?"

Black Silk Star shakes his head slightly. "Not as such; just passing through, considering buying some shares in a rancher, but I hate putting hard jade into a business I know nothing about." He inclines a head slightly. "That looks like the inn. Leastwise, it's lit up and has a stables. Your destination, too?"

         Looking over to the local hostel, Hunting Mist says, "May as well be. I will need lodging for th'night, an' ah might as well take advantage of what's t'be had here.". With that, Mist leads the claw strider to an empty pasture he spotted from outside town, releases him into it, makes a few hand gestures to the strider, pens him up and heads into the inn.

Black Silk Star hops off the horse, following Mist into the lit room, filled with men and women, drinking and laughing and singing. He scans the room for a moment- then pushes down the hood. In the sky, a pair of stars twinkle rapidly, as if confused.

Elegant Hawk follows Mist. His hair is sandy, bleached from the sun, and his skin is weathered from outdoors work. His smile is ready and easy. "So. You're just a rancher, then?"

You say, "Pretty much. Jus' on walkabout at th'moment, movin' about the land t'see what's there t'see."

Elegant Hawk nods at that. "So, a bit of a stranger to these parts yourself. Where are ya from, if it's not some trouble to ask?"

         Looking over at Elegant Hawk as the sun sets, Mist wonders at the interest, "Not so far as to be unkowin' to these parts here. But these ranches go on fer miles'n'miles, most o'them operatin' much alike. Only th'people change, an'what they believe in."

         Hunting Mist takes a seat, and holds up a finger to a serving girl for a brew.

Elegant Hawk chuckles at that. "Well. People and their beliefs," he says. "But what else is there to people, but their beliefs? And what are these ranches if not the operations of those people?" He shakes his head. "Ah, too much philosophy. Let me apologize by paying for your drink." He catches the eye of the serving girl, and smiles, a bit more broadly. "Oh, I like her. I wonder what she believes."

         Looking at the retreating form of the serving girl, Hunting Mist replies, "Well, I won't turn down yer offer, but philosophy's just talk. As fer her? No idea without askin' her. She'll have what she was raised on, what she dreams about, what ails her, and what helps her. A simple life don' need much more'n that."

Elegant Hawk gives Mist a skeptical glance at that. "Oh, you think? Not everyone's satisfied with the simple life. Some might aspire to something greater; and who should restrain their desires?" He smiles again. "I'm Elegant Hawk. Pleasure to meet'cha."

You say, "Never said anythin' about bein' satisfied. Work needs to be done, crops grown, herd raised. A pretty constant cycle of hands-on work. Yer goin' on about aspirations? Sure, some desire and go fer somethin', an' they either succeed or fail, by their own strength. That's natural too, an' it may upset some, but to each as they can.", the girl returns with Mist's and Hawk's drinks, "'Scuse me, miss, I'll also have whatever's good fer chow.", and turning back to Elegant Hawk, "M'name's John.""

The girl smiles a bit at the order, and heads back to the hearth. Hawk watches her go, before taking a pull from the beer. "Ah, a quiet, simple life of drudgery. But still- natural? What makes it natural? Who ordained it as such? Why are men and women born to drudgery and dirt, in blood and pain?"

         Taking a long pull from his draft, Hunting Mist thinks. The stranger across from him is asking questions that lead to interesting assumptions, but Mist hasn't put all the pieces together yet. Finally, he responds, "Whoever did, did so, an' we exist under that. Another word for natural is necessary. An' callin' it drudgery don' make it any less than what it is, nor does it make th'rich better than anyone here. Without any'o this, what will being rich get you?"

Elegant Hawk leans across the table at that. "So," he says. "You would agree that it is proper- indeed, neccesary -to follow the dictates of the world which was created? Else, what would anything be worth? People would fall and starve, for lack of hands tilling the fields. Some must serve, as it were."

         Mist suddenly smiles. Ah. So, this is about power, and power over others. Interesting. "Proper? You make it sound like there's a choice in how things get done. No, the fields get tilled, crops planted, harvested in turn. 'Cept in odd cases, food simply don' appear without effort or exchange. Folk use the power they have to make the world turn as it does, because the alternative is misery. Then, perhaps, they make enough to feed others who do not work the crops, if skilled and learned in th'ways of Wood, an' then some small part of thfolk can think about somethin' other than th'weather, th'Gods, th'crops'n'herd, family an'hearth. Those folk ain't master, th'others ain't servants. Except that it benefits those who don't have t'work th'earth to get everyone else t'think that way. A shame, really."

"And if there were a choice?" Hawk asks, eyes glimmering. "How many, do you think, would take it?"

The girl brings back a pair of wooden bowls with thick, meaty stew. Hawk fairly pins the girl with his gaze. "I think she would."

The girl gives Hawk a confused look. "Would what?"

"Risk anything, to leave this little town."

The girl pales, and there's a shuffling of chairs, as a few of the regulars turn to watch the table.

        Mist looks around the table, wondering at this fellow with him, "O'course, it begs th'question, would you know where yer goin' to? Will it be the same, better, or worse? Will you have what it takes to meet th'challenges on th'road? D'you know anythin' about those you travel with?"

"I- I don't know..." she stutters once. And Hawk grins, very fiercely, at that. He cocks his head, as if hearing something else, then shakes it. "No. Ignorance and masks are well and good but the midnight hour is close at hand, when masks will be removed. They are such heavy things, masks. Very tiring. Masks of family, of society, bound by nails of Fate and screws of Destiny, masks of jade and iron and gold." He looks dead on at Mist and says, "That girl is part of a cult that worships Erembor, who dances in the Shadow of All Things within the prison beyond the world. She has danced the steps of the silver horn, and has wept at the single clarion note that escaped to her." He leans across the table. "And now's when you ask the question."

Hunting Mist puts his head in his hand, and sighs sadly. "Why'd you reveal this to me?"

Elegant Hawk leans back in his chair. The girl has paled, crossing her arms in front of herself and backing away. "Curiousity, mostly," he replies. "Some would turn violent in the defense of the innocent at such an accusation."

A thick necked rancher steps behind Hawk, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. I think maybe you'd better be getting out of town."

Hawk looks up at the man. "By way of example..."

         Mist looks sharply to the stranger, eyes locking onto his and says, "Mister, step off if you want to live. That man under your hand ain't."

"Oh, John," Hawk replies, brushing the hand off and rising. "I would never dream of killing someone just for... touching me. For voicing an opinion. Indeed, it shows a commendable character. To stand in defense of a follower of the Fallen." He steps back from the table and the man.

"Of course, these things also do have consequences... and he did just scuff my cloak. Girl! Dancer! What should I do with him?"

The girl just stutters, watching Hawk with wide eyes.

         Mist turns to the girl as well, "So, girl, you follow the Call To Darkness, do you? An' did you think it would ever lead to this? What you say speaks for what you are, in your heart an'soul, to all who ever knew you. You now have the'power of life'n'death over your fellow man. What do you feel now, girl?". Mist shakes his head, "This ain't somethin' you shoulda done, hon. Also ain't somethin' you should decide. Git. I'll talk with you later."

The girl turns to leave, and Hawk looks at Mist. "So, John. You'd take the decision on yourself, then?" He grins. "More and more curious. A man with a lizard-monster for a mount, who would save rather than avenge. I rather think we could be friends, John. So. What choice would you make, for this fellow?"

         "I'd accept the attempt to remove th'dust from my ride as a kindness, and let him go at that. If yer as High'n'Mighty as you lay yourself out t'be, what insult could anyone lay on you that you can accept, except by bein' a petty insecure creature without peer in this Creation? No, that sort of thing can only come from Elsewhere, from They Who Abuse, to the world of th'Children when they threw their shackles off to make their own choices. Speak to yourself, now Hawk. Who are you?"

"Not Hawk at all. Although I am fond of that name," the man replies. "And... petty? Insecure? No. Tired. Angry. Saddened." He reaches a hand out, towards the thick necked man. The air flashes with white light, flexing as if caught in a mirage. The man staggers back a step, raising his arms as if to ward himself. "You're of a more forgiving bend than I am John. Or perhaps less forgiving. You would have done nothing. I will give this man enligthenment to the nature of the world, then give him freedom."

         Hunting Mist harrumphs, "Fine. Hey, Mister, th'world is full of strange scary things, y'hear? Stuff you can hardly handle on th'best day of your life, so you watch out. That enlightening enough?"

"No," the man-who-was-Hawk replies. His face is melting away, running like wax into a tragedian mask, a frown etched permanently in flesh of great sorrow for the world. "It is not." He squeezes his hand.

The rancher pales, as the luminiousity around him increases. The rest of the common room has emptied by now, leaving the three of you alone. "This wasn't the story you expected to boast of later, was it?" he asks the caught man. "You thought you'd be apt to impress that slip of a girl, maybe get her to warm your bed in appreciation. And maybe that was your fate. Well." He turns his look towards John. "This shows you what fate's worth, eh? I'm suprised you're still here. Curious how it ends?"

         Hunting Mist get up from the table, looking darkly at 'Hawk', then focuses his attention on the trapped man. "normal man, normal impulses, served him well throughout his life. This ain't about 'Fate'. This is power, an'power can kick fate b'tween th'uprights most days.", and Hunting Mist steps between you and the man, pushing the man back incidentally and blocking line of sight temporarily.

The man-that-was-Hawk turns his frowning gaze on Mist. He puts his hand down, letting the rancher fall to the ground, gasping. "For those such as myself, that is true. But the whole of the system offends me. No one is free while any are in chains."

         Kicking the man to the door, Hunting Mist yells "Git!' to the rancher, and turns back to 'Hawk'. "Sure, there's gonna be disparity as long as there's disagreement on how others should be treated. An' some commit crimes and behaviours that require a time-out. An' others simply do not value any freedom except theirs, at th'cost of all other things. Which means that all other things're gonna sit-up an'take notice. As long as those values are in place, those who hold those values will be resisted."

"Your point, John?" the-man-that-was-Hawk replies.

         Sighing, Hunting Mist puts his hands on his hips. "Just that, because you may feel wronged don' mean it was done just t'wrong you. Yer bosses need t'learn, an' near as I can tell, I think that's th'only thing they're not doing. As soon as they passed out free will, they were done; I don' recall ever hearin' about how they came down an' understood what kind of pickle they set up for their lessers, or understandin' what kind of burden it was to be near any'o them. Except for th'two who are still free."

Black Silk Star stares at Mist, and starts laughing. "Ah, John. You think you understand. You think this is about the Founders, and free will. I've never mentioned free will, only fate, and predestination." He draws a finger down the air, filling it with white light. The light solidifies, becoming a semi-translucent board. It falls, hovering an inch off the ground.

"Still. A most interesting discussion, John." He steps on the board, and cruises away, off into the night, trailing white light in his wake, a comet brought to earth.

    Master of the Hunting Mist sits backdown in his chair in the completely empty public house.  He leans back, finishes his beer and eats his stew, which thankfully, wasn't upset in the discourse.