(1304) Bone Shadows
23567
THREADID
15
POSTS
11 - 15
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"I have little to share at this point. A few tales here and there. Nothing truly exciting. I've hunted in south Sacramento - briefly - before being offered the chance to run with the Crusaders. From that point all I've been doing was earning their trust. What did you have in mind?" Rawlins' asked, looking over at Brett but leaving the question hanging between himself and Fiona as well.
Well. I wisnae expectin' this.
Fiona quickly weighed up the brands of the two Uratha before her. Rawlins, while older and almost as experienced as her, still held only pale marks of Renown. And while Brett's seemed to match or outstrip her own, he'd just admitted to being a total rookie. It looked horribly like Fiona was the most senior Bone Shadow here. In the whole of Sacramento, in fact.
Given that previously, she'd only attended tribal meetings while chaperoned by Peacekeeper, in a different country, the Cahalith wasn't sure that she was up to the task.
Well, ye'd better start tryin' tae act like it. If ye don't step up tae this, the Sworn'll be even mair o' a laughin' stock.
Fiona stands a little straighter, and adopts a slightly more formal tone, her dense Glaswegian accent flattening a little.
"I've got ma share of tales. But a warnin' sounds a little more important than swappin' stories."
Brett smirked at Filidh. "Well, swapping stories, giving a warning. It's all the same, right?"
The Rahu nodded at the other Bone Shadows.
"The warning comes with a story. I'm not the most um... epressive, but I'll do my best."
With that, Brett took a breath. He'd faced down ghosts, angry spirits, and various other deadly threats, but somehow public speaking was still one of the most difficult challenges he'd come to face.
"This is the story of the Redeemers, and a reminder as to why we pay each spirit in kind. A little over twenty years ago, in the Iraqi desert was a pack called the Sword of Glory. They were mostly Blood Talons and Hunters in Darkness , pretty much all former military or mercenary of some sort. They took up territory in the desert - largely because much of it was unclaimed, and because it was far away from the herd. For a few years, they did well. There were some scattered packs of the pure, rogue spirits - enough challenges for them to hunt and exist as a pack. But they wanted more to survive and endure the harshness of the desert. They wanted glory - they wanted the Cahalith to sing songs of their victories in battle for ages to come. So they started looking for trouble."
Brett paused a moment to gauge the attention of the two other Uratha.
"They found other nearby packs and organized a raid against a spirit called the Binder of War, citing it as a threat to nearby civilization because of it's influencing many of the Sunni villages to go after each other. But their intel was incomplete. Binder of War was responsible for many of the local skirmishes, but he was also keeping many of the less powerful spirits in check. When the Sword of Glory and their allies finally bought down the Binder, all hell broke lose. The War court in the area spun out of control. Many of the Uratha that survived the battle with the Binder were killed in the aftermath, either by some of the more aggressive war spirits, or locals under their influence. Those that survived the first few weeks and dedicated to fixing the problem became the Redeemers."
With a sigh, Brett continued.
"To this day, the Redeemers seek to restore balance to the area, but it is an uphill battle. The us involvement in the middle east has made the situation worse, and it's near impossible to make progress because they're spending a lot of time patching up holes caused by new conflicts, instead of helping to solve the old ones. So that's my warning - if you, for whatever reason, travel that way, look for the redeemers. They will shelter you for a time, but unless you plan on joining them, they will ask you to leave so that they may right their wrongs. It's a mess over there."
Fiona raises an eyebrow as Brett dismisses his own warning, but listens carefully to his tale. Her expression is pensive throughout, and when it is done, she studies the Rahu for a long moment before speaking.
"Did ye seriously caw out aw the Bone Shadows in Sacramento tae tell them that?
Her expression and tone are incredulous as she continues, her accent flaring back to life, thicker than ever.
"So, killin' aff powerful spirits can have unexpectit consequences fur the local Hisil's food chain. Fuck me, I wid nivver uv figurt that yin oot by masel'."
Brett had seriously concerned her with his mysterious 'warning to share' shite. Having heard it, the Glaswegian Cahalith felt that the glaikit heid-the-baw had totally wasted her time.
"That wisnae a warnin'. That wis a fairy tale tae tell cubs that hardly ken whit spirits ur. Matter o' fact, the Ritemaister telt me damn near the same story, 'cept his wis set in Northumberland five hunner year ago. Which yours might as well'uv been, seein' as these Redeemers are thoosans' o' miles fae here, an' we can dae hee-haw aboot their troubles unless wan o' us decides tae abandon oor territ'try fur the middle east."
Filidh breathes heavily through her nose for a moment, calming down before spitting, "Talkin' as if us twa widnae huv already learnt sich a basic lesson is mair than a wee bit insultin', pal."
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"Still an important lesson to convey. It tells us something about another part of the world, to which we might not necessarily be familiar. Thank you, Brett," Rawlins spoke in a conciliatory manner. The tale may not have meant much to Filidh, but it clearly meant much to the Rahu. "What tales can you share?" He let the question hang between himself and the Cahalith.
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