Native Teachings 1

From SCross

Scene Information

Judge: Benjamin Players: Amp, Aralyn, Rory, Naaman, Pacifico, Ragnhild, and George

Synopsis: The settlers have heard the drums and seen the smoke plumes just over the hills near the settlement of Highwind Point and go to investigate. The youth of the settlement learn a small bit of the local culture and are rewarded for their experience.

Scene

Everyone seems to have gotten the least bit curious about the beating drums out at the edge of the settlement, the plumes of smoke, and the occasional native having come into the settlement to deal with people and slip back out unaccosted. One of the Ronso, large and blue, is outside the gate, whittling away at a piece of ivory.

George hmms a little bit to himself as he keeps moving forward, "I'm sorry Rag, really, I was just joking! Honest!" he says as he tries to convince her that he was joking!

Aralyn blinks curiously and wanders out, the uni looking around for the drums. She then pauses and stares at the Ronso curiously. "Hello." greets the girl. She looks toward Ragnhild and George now curiously too, having also kind of followed them. "You two should have a snowball fight."

Pacifico had warmed up enough to decide to step outside of the sheltered confines of the church building to see what was happening at the edge of town, the noise and the smoke in the distance drew him closer as he wraps his coat around him, which he received from the church as it was part of their donations to those up north, it certainly helped to keep the worst of the elements off his fur.

Ragnhild is engaged in the midst of a shuffling, circuitous, rather -slow- run, a tiny, tiny fire elemental keeping very easy pace at her side. She seems to be panting and gasping as she runs in from the direction of the town square. She finally slows to a stop, glaring in between gulps of air at George in particular. "Th-that was a b-b-behemoth!" she manages. "W-what do you expect me t-to do?" She manages to realize she's run all the way to the outside of the town, and peers curiously at the native whittling at his ivory.

Amp is out and exploring, finding the drums interesting he rushes on over to see what is up. Coming to a stop as he tilts his head to the side and watches from a little distance, not saying much else.

Naaman just follows behind Ragnhild and George, his hands resting again behind his back under the heavy fur cloak. He glances over towards the direction of the drum sound and narrows his eyes slightly. "Sounds like the natives are up to something." he mutters.

The Ronso unfolds himself from his crouching position, tossing his mane as though shaking water from it. He towers upwards, a rumble emanating from his barrel chest. "You new. Not recognize scents." His Imperial is broken and pidgin, and soon he tucks the piece of ivory in his belt pouch, crossing his massive arms over that barrel chest.

George hmms a little bit and he sniffs at the air, "What smell..." he tries to identify what comes across his nostrils

Aralyn ummms "Well I imagine I smell like unicorn." She replies, whoa, intelligent eh? She tilts her head and walks closer to the Ronso curiously.

Naaman eyes the Ronso, once again thankful for the shadow cast over his face by the hood. "I do believe young lord, that he does not recognize our scents." he murmurs as he slowly starts to move to stand beside George and hopefully Ragnhild, incase he has to jump in between.

Ragnhild blinks rapidly, then looks around a bit more, still gasping for breath. "Scent?" she murmurs, before shaking herself. The little fire elemental, true to its nature, is melting away the snow as it walks a circle around the tall, silver-haired woman, who nods to Naaman before shooting a glowing golden glare at George.

Amp tilts his head a bit more to the group. Eyebrows raising for a moment. Then bounding over at his fast speed. Considering softly then jumps up next to Ragnhild, "Oh fire!" Grinning a bit, "What brings you here?"

George blinks and he looks to Naaman, and he ohs, "Ah, right, um, sorry." he says as he blushes...ya, duh, he goes quiet, and lets the older knight go forward

Pacifico approaches the Ronso, looking up towards him curiously as he scratches his head, "Well, most wouldn't recognize me unless they've spent a lot of time near the docks or the square." He says in a quiet calm tone, taking a few steps back afterwards.

Creepily enough, a familiar voice sounds from next to Benjamin and George. "Looking for anything in particular or are you planning to freeze to death?" Rory "Doc" O'Shae, was back, and he sported his usual charming smile. "I don't know if my tent is large enough for the lot of you." he says, his nostrils flaring a moment.

Aralyn looks at the Doc curiously before tilting her head "Hello!" She greets, new person! She then looks to the Ronso, perking her ears as she does "Sooo, what are you doing out here?"

Naaman looks between George, Ragnhild and the Ronso. "Pardon the intrusion, the young nobles are eager to explore their new surroundings." he says in a neutral tone before he takes a step back to indicate that its all up to the two Alair's to handle the talking.

George blinks and he erks as Doc comes in behind him, and he smirks, and he goes and with an open hand pats him on the cheek, "Now then, don't worry, don't worry." he grins to himself "I'll squeeze in if it's needed but for now, we're going to take an adventure!" he says and he goes and looks at Naaman, and then to the Ronso, and he clears his throat

The Ronso snorts irritably. "New people." His gaze looks around to the people. "Need learn ways of the People. Not enough food for winter with grains and fish.." He looks to the summoners, brow ridge raising and another toss of his mane. "Shamans." He looks to George and Naaman. "Warriors." He looks to Rory. "Healer." Finally looks to Amp and Pacifico. "Living Spirit and sea bear." The Ronso is more perceptive than one would expect.

Ragnhild raises an eyebrow at the pale blue wolf. "I'm afraid I don't know you, sir," she says in between ragged breaths. The little flame man just giggles--apparently it's been summoned to try keeping the poor young woman warm. The silver-haired woman peers at Rory. "I think my friend can manage to keep me warm for a while, yet," she murmurs, nodding to the little elemental. As if just noticing, she also nods to Aralyn upon realizing the unicorn's followed her out here. Then she blinks as the Ronso calls her a shaman, of all the strange things.

Aralyn beams and nods rapidly "Yus, definitely Shaman, summoner, spirit mage. Whichever." she replies and beams happily. "One of friends is Kaelyn, 'nother is Carbuncle, though I've not pacted." She says cheerfully "Mother is Silverleaf."

Naaman wrinkles his nose and murmurs under his breath about lack of respect, as he crosses his arms over his chest while letting his gaze wander over the people gathered here. "Soo...native, what is the drums for..Greeting the sun?"

Amp peers at the Ronso, then bounds over to him, "Living spirit me?" Then falls over laughing holding his stomach in clear amusement. "That will be the day, the spirits will get a kick out of that one."

George ahhs, "Well, Warrior, yes, I suppose." he says as he goes and brushes off his clothing, taking off a bit of snow, "Though, he does have a point, we should stat to develop agriculture, granted, I would like to start mining to get a trade balance...but if the harbor freezes during the winter and we can't get food shipments...we'd be in trouble"

Aralyn umms and tilts her head "Sea Wall." she suggests "Lots of stone out there, set up port out far enough to where it doesn't freeze. Send stuff across frozen ice with ice water barges."

Piercing eyes, seemingly never the same color, scan across the party. With a faint smile, Rory looks back to Naaman, George and Ragnhild. Lingering there for a moment, the young man produces a scarf and wraps it around his head, tightens the drawstrings to his sweater bringing the furred high-collar closer to his fair skin. He then shoves his hands in his pockets, "Indeed. Food is more important than money." he says, running his tongue along his full lips in idle thought.

The Ronso snorts once more, looking toward the plumes of smoke. "Good hunt. Thank spirit guiding hunt. Extra leather from hunt. Teach new outsiders ways of the People." He thumps his chest, prideful look glinting in his eyes. The Ronso looks to the settlers. "Come. Will show ways." He turns to walk back toward his own village, wide feet holding him above the snow.

Pacifico hrms, "Well...he knows of my people. I mean my parents survived out here till that snowstorm buried our house on the cliffs while I was away trading for supplies." He sighs as he shakes his head.

"Frozen harbor would make it more difficult to fish," Ragnhild murmurs absently, seeming oblivious to the bits of mud that still stain her shirt, coat, kilt, and, for that matter, a bit of her face. "We'll still need people to hunt, or else livestock." She looks thoughtful. "I suppose chocobos live pretty much everywhere. Perhaps we could tame some for a food stock." She looks up at the Ronso who named her a 'Shaman', the little flame man bouncing on its toes at her side. "What ways would these be?" she murmurs, before shrugging and following after in her shuffling gait, the fire elemental bouncing at her side.

Aralyn looks at the Ronso and beams "Yay, learning!" She calls out, boy is this unicorn simple. Or in the very least she's rather in cable of expressing her self verbally in Imperial without seeming very simple in deed. She perks her ears and high-steps after the Ronso. Of course she's got lots of body weight and small feet, so she sinks like a rock.

George hmms and nods his head, "Well...all right, I'm game, we need to explore this place anyway." he glances to the two other Alairs, and stretches, "Who’s up for a hike?" he grins and he bounces up atop a rock to follow long....

Naaman looks towards George and then Ranghild and is about to speak when Ragnhild starts to move after the Ronso, and the knight places his hand on the right side of his waist and pats the place where his scabbard usually resides. And then George starts to move and another sigh escapes his lips. "By the all father." he mutters and follows along.

Amp chuckles softly, "Oh sure why not. This could be fun!" He offers with a amused. Sitting down on his hunches and considering, "What would you teach us? Your ways?" Then shakes his head, "You know that city is going to get way to big to survive off tribal methods..."

Pacifico follows along, "I could enjoy a few survival lessons, I don't get out here as much as I used to...not in the past 5 years so its no doubt I'm a little rusty."

As the people follow the Ronso, he stops to touch a dead twig colored blue against the snow. "Medicine. Cures fever." He sashays over the snow, wide feet still carrying him along. As they approach the gathering of natives, the smell of animal blood is thick on the air, raw meat hanging from racks, bones being shaved clean by the younger children of the tribe. The snow is red stained, warriors still trying to gut their kills. "Hunt good. Many, many leathers. Learn help and hunt."

Rory follows along, a bit quieter now that he's covered up. Although his lips do part in speech, "Yes, Ronso what will you teach us?" he says, vaguely... eyes immediately shifting towards the smell. A near growl escaping the young man, weather it was his stomach or mouth it's hard to tell. "Food." His eyes then shift back to the Ronso, and he grins a tad.

'lyn nods and looks at the herb curiously, before picking a tiny bit of the twig and putting it on the end of her tongue. The girl then looks to the Ronso curiously "What are we to hunt?"

Ragnhild gives Naaman an apologetic look as she continues on, her little fire elemental melting away the worst of the snow for her passage--she wouldn't stand much better change trying to stay balanced on the snow than would Aralyn. She blinks as the Ronso points out a twig, seemingly the same as most any other twig to her untrained eye. She doesn't seem overly perturbed at the scent of blood and the sight of dripping dead animals. "Using all of the animal," she murmurs. "Meat for cooking, skin for leathers." She nods firmly to herself, although it's pretty obvious from the tone of her voice that she's already exhausted her entire store of knowledge on the subject of wilderness survival. She glances a bit longingly at the meat hanging from racks as well, the sight of food not to be ignored.

George ponders to himself, and he wets his lips as he goes, and follows along pondering, looking at the blue twig, and he stretches, and keeps walking. He tries to keep to bedrock when he can, moving forward and looking at what they've killed

Aralyn umms "Stomach lining for lining of waterskin, can't use hard drinking ummm... vessels in open out here. Must use soft." She then umms and tilts her head "tendon, gut lining for sinew..."

Amp peers at the root, "Oh I like the color." he offers bounding along still seeming to enjoy this quiet a bit. Eyes watching the Ronso, then chuckles softly, "life here is going to be interesting...wonder how long it will keep me interested." Mostly to himself

"Food. Leather. Make coverings." The Ronso says. He approaches a more elderly Ronso, who exchange a conversation consisting of growls, chirps, and low resonating roars. The guide returns to the settlers. "Follow." He leads the group toward a batch of dead chocobo and other animals of the north. "Will help skin, harvest." Let's hope everyone's brought their hunting knives.

Pacifico keeps following along as the Ronso keeps instructing them on the basics of things out here in the northern wilderness, glancing at the leather and meats being hung out there as he sticks close to the rest of the people who have followed this towering blue figure here.

Aralyn blinks curiously... "Skinning animals? What about hunt!" She was sooo excited for such, wah! She then blinks and digs through her stuff before pulling out a knife that resembles a large crescent blade with a T-handle on it...

George nods and he raises his hand up for the Ronso, and he blinks, and wets his lips, "Ah, hello there." he says and he keeps moving forward, looking over at the chocobo, "Ah ya, Chocbo, good, how many herds are there usually"

Ragnhild blinks as she realizes the Ronsos intend her to begin helping with the skinning. She doesn't look perturbed by the circumstances, of course, but by her failure to begin searching her person for a knife, it seems pretty obvious that she doesn't have one. "Sir... ah...." Her mezzo-soprano hesitates as she realizes she doesn't know the Ronso's name. "If you've a knife available, I'll gladly help."

Rory grins, looking at Aralyn. "I could take you hunting." he murmurs, "Or any of you who wanted practice." says the 'Doc', "I have been here for a couple years now." he murmurs, and looks to George... eyes flickering a moment, shifting violet once more. "Actually.." he smiles looking dead at the Ronso. "They taught me." he adds.

Aralyn bounces in place "Did hunt with mum." She replies and then moves toward one of the dead critters, that odd curved blade with a slightly elongated 'tooth' at the top ready to go. She then begins trying to skin one of the birds, whistling to her self as she lashes her tail "Get cook later?"

Amp erps at that looking down to himself and his hands, "I don't even have sharp claws!" He offers with a whimper, "nothing to cut with, not even a bone dagger." Shaking his head and sighs, "Can't help here..."

Some of the Ronso and human children run back and forth in the camp, pelting eat other with bloody snowballs before running off again. The guide points to the sharpened pieces of bone near today's hunt. Some of the tribal woman are busy working, and look up at the newcomers. They exchange a few words with the guide before going back to work, starting to sing their own songs once more. "Will help women. Will teach you thanks for hunt."

George hmms, "I'll admit, I'm bereft of knife as well, I don't usually use weapons at all, not even a skinning life." he glances to Rory and raises a brow, "you've been here...since the camp was founded I take it then, awfully long time to be in this waste." he mummers and shrugs idly, and looks back at the slaughtered birds and he goes over, and he takes one of the bone knives, and he rubs at the blade to test the sharpness, "it's easy enough right...separate the hide from the muscle..."

Meanwhile, Aralyn works along at a happy pace, whistling. When she thinks she's done she remembers the pull part and does, only a bit too hard. The skin comes straight off alright, but then up and wraps around the girl's head. temporary blindfolding her "Eep!" She flails her arms rapidly, it's a passable, but not necessarily a great perfect job either.

Ragnhild nods gratefully to their guide. "Thank you", the woman murmurs in her mezzo-soprano before taking up one of the freshly-sharpened bone knives. She kneels next to one of the women, heedless of the bleeding snows grinding into her stocking-clad knees. The fire elemental remains a bit behind her, keeping her as warm as possible while she gets ready to work. The tall, silver-haired woman glances to the even larger, beast-like woman next to her, watching her work the knife with practiced skill. She then slips the blade between skin and flesh, separating one from the other with the exaggerated slowness of a woman who knows only too well that she doesn't know what she's doing.

Rory simply watches, eyes seemingly focused upon something other than the choco-carnage throughout the village. Nostrils flaring, he looks around the gathering and takes a step back. "I should probably head back.." he says, softly.

Pacifico figures he'll help the best he can as he takes up a knife and begins working on skinning some of the hide, "I haven't done this in ages...last thing I cleaned was a few fish a week ago."

The native women laugh at Aralyn's plight, one of them being so nice as to unwrap the leather with a bit of a laugh, which again is shared once more with the women. The work seems tedious, but soon people do manage to get the skinning done of their creatures. The guide gives a feral grin to the newcomers at their relative lack of experience.

Aralyn blinks as she's freed, then looks down. She puts away her blade and just appears happy she at least completed this task.

George looks over to Rory, "what's a matter Doc? Can't handle the sight of blood?" he asks, and he goes about stripping hide, he's not good at it, but at least he's not going to kill it...more

Ragnhild blinks as she knows, fully well, that her lack of expertise is quite obvious--not to mention her general lack of coordination. The knife slips, nicking her thumb, and the woman yelps a bit as a bit of blood trickles from the wound. Nevertheless, eventually she manages to finish the one she's working on. It's... well, the leather should be serviceable, if admittedly with a couple tears in it, and needing a good cleaning of the bits of tissue that didn't get caught by the young Alair.

A brow raises and Rory scoffs just a tad. "No.." he says, stepping forward just behind George. "I just don't feel like skinning." he murmurs, eyes shifting around in thought. Nostrils flare again, as he takes in the scents of the area... and with that his nose wiggles a bit. "Hmm.."

Amp is watching for the most part. Considering for a moment as he reaches out to tap a few things, "So who does the hunting around here? I miss my javelin." Sighing softly as he bounds over to watch somebody else. Perhaps trying to figure something out for himself to do

Aralyn holds her antler-handled steel skinning knife up and looks it over before looking at a bone knife and back to the ladies then to Ragnhild before wandering over and grinning. SHe tries ruffling the Alair's head, in one of her more playful moods at the moment.

The guide looks to the settlers with another one of those feral grins on his face. The women continue with their work, now moving to strip the meat from the bones and place them in the sap-sealed woven baskets. The Ronso guide speaks once again. "Keep knife. Will need for later hunts. Will give leather for work. Is good you learn." The warriors of the tribe have even taken to skinning and gutting corpses, putting the organs in appropriate sap-sealed baskets for the tribe's consumption.

Pacifico keeps working at it, its not the best job but he is able to come up with a hide that's functional enough to be converted into some decent leather, "Gathering fish is easier for me, granted I work with a net rather than a rod or spear...or lure them into a crate trap of some sort." He looks over the bone knife, "Well...thank you. Should come in handy."

George hmms as he looks at the bone hunting knife, "Well thank you then...what is your name?" he asks the Ronso native, the Alair looking over his shoulder to the "doc" behind him and he smirks, "Did you get one of these already?"

Rory holds his up, and then brings it back to his side... or at least what is thought to be he is side. George was a playful one, he shouldn't mind being pricked on the cheek. "Here carry my leather, Warrior boy." he murmurs tossing the skins on him. "I've no use." A wry smile slips crossed his face, and he nods to the Ronso eyes glowing just a tad in the light.

Ragnhild takes the admittedly somewhat ragged leather, inclining her head in respectful thanks as she rises to her feet, stumbling a bit--well, she does lack the Alair grace. "My thanks," she murmurs diffidently. "I hope we can see one of these hunts." She glances to George, nodding in agreement. "What is your name, good sir?"

Amp looks at the knife handing to him and then the leather. Chuckling softly he sits down to cut, and ends up cutting a nice long gash along his arms. he blinks, not even wincing. Watching the blood before he sighs, "Well ouch!" Grumbling a bit as he covers it up to stop the bleed, and goes back to trying to skin

"Is in you tongue 'Tracks through Deep Snow'." The Ronso guide motions to the direction of the settlement. "Get to home before night. Too dangerous at night." The woman still continue their work, making quick of the carcasses while the children then find their jobs to pick the rest of the meat off the bones with their little knives. The group of settlers have learned the ways of the wilds and gotten more than an education for their troubles. Perhaps they will be welcomed again.

George laughs to himself and he nods his head and he takes the leather and carries it, "Cool, I was hoping to make some leather armor, just some light armor." he grins to himself and he stretches, "Ah yes, this will do well, I'll try my hand at some crafting, and the knife...is a great bit of local color, yes."

Rory make sure his scarf is secured, and his hands still hide within his sleeves. 'Doc' already appears to be on his way home... his form lost when walking through shadows overcast by the various trees.

Ragnhild bows in deferential thanks. "It has been an honor, Sir... ah... Tracks through Deep Snow." The young woman seems to have a bit of trouble with the name--which is ironic considering her own tongue-tying appellation. She hefts the skins, having just a bit of trouble with them, before smiling to herself and murmuring again in an almost singing voice. A pile of snow coalesces--this is not the tiny elemental warming her at her back, but a rather larger one that forms, becoming a roughly child-sized, human-shaped block of mobile ice crafted from the snow. Smiling, she hands the skin to the elemental, before tucking the knife in her belt, bowing once more to the Ronso before nodding to George. "Let's move quickly, George. He is right--I don't want to be out at night."

George looks over to Rag and he nods, waving to Rory, and going to Rag's side, going to offer her some protection...he's the big bro now after all

Aralyn looks at Ragnhild curiously, then others, then beams before following everyone back to the place. She plays with her knife along the way however!

Epilogue

The youthful settlers traveled back to their settlement before nightfall, richly rewarded for their experience and certainly left with a sense of awe at the new culture. The natives appear to be willing to teach these youthful adventurers again in the times to come, given they can still prove worthy enough without dishonoring the tribe. (Friday, June 30, 2006)