"A Restless Night"

Log Date:
	6/4/99

Log Cast:
	StormBearer, Faanshi

Log Intro:
	Faanshi has commenced a new and different kind of adventure -- a
journey to the new-fledged land of Avalon, in the company of Thomas Murako
and his band of Mongrels and others who believe in the cause of Mongrel
equality and freedom. She has even been offered a place amongst them, a
radical notion to one who has been bred to believe that it is her lot in 
life to do nothing but serve her betters, and even now Faanshi has balked
at the idea of abandoning Atesh-Gah and the Varati people. But on the other
hand, her innocent young heart has thrilled at the notion of seeing an
unfamiliar place, and she cannot deny the request of Murako to come and use
her magic for his people's good regardless.
	And so now she journeys to Avalon. But it is a journey not without its
causes for distress for her, for the man she once knew as a slave has taken
for himself a place of leadership -- changing entirely Faanshi's perceptions
of him. So too has his treatment of his Hand, Milane, on the first night
the company has stopped to make camp. It has struck a strangely dissonant
chord within the shudra maiden, trying to reconcile what she once knew of
Thomas with the man with whom she now travels, and it has kept her from 
succumbing to sleep. But fortunately, the Sylvan StormBearer is also with
the company, so there is someone else about with whom she might become better
acquainted....

----------
It is night. Deep Night. Even the Owls have left their perches in favor of the 
  shadows and protection of thier sleeping places. In the camp of Thomas 
  Murako and his company, however, not everyone is asleep. By the campfire 
  sits the Herald, StormBearer, sans crow. Before him is a fine lute, upon 
  which he strums lightly as he stares into the flames.

Night, and most of the camp has settled down, aside from those whose task it 
  is to keep watch over the safety of the gathered mongrels. In the midst of 
  it all, one very tired but nevertheless very alert young maiden who has 
  ridden the day behind Thomas Murako upon his stallion... and who now still 
  finds walking to be a trifle odd, now that she doesn't have to ride... has 
  abandoned her sleeping place. Too restless to drop easily into slumber, too 
  nervous and overwhelmed by the abrupt change of path her life has taken, the 
  shudra girl creeps tentatively towards the campfire, drawn by the heat and 
  warmth. And the soft sound of the lute.

At first the Herald notices nothing and continues to strum, staring into the 
  flames, humming some distant tune to himself. Then, through the flames he 
  spies a figure, though he can't identify it. "Who's there?" he asks, not 
  shouting, for he doesn't want to wake anyone up, but loud enough so that 
  whoever it is can still hear him.

"Faanshi, Imphadi StormBearer," comes the even softer reply. The girl in Clan 
  Khalida silks ventures timidly nearer, adding, "May I come to the fire...?"

His initial suprise as seeing anyone up this late over, Stormbearer removes a 
  hand from the lute long enough to beckon gently, saying "Faanshi, yes, of 
  course it's fine if you come to the fire." he says, then returning the hand 
  to the lute, strumming gently.

The girl dutifully approaches, then, her garb growing a bit more noticeable as 
  the firelight plays across the brightly colored silks. Tentatively, she 
  stretches forth her hands to warm them, and the flickering illumination 
  touches her golden-skinned fingers as well. Her sari-covered head bobs 
  gratefully, and she can be heard to murmur, "Thank you, Imphadi 
  StormBearer." She pauses, then, and asks earnestly, "What is your instrument 
  called...?"

StormBearer ansers quickly, a bit too quickly, apparently he's not as wrapped 
  up in the music as he was a second ago "Its is called a Lute, and please, 
  dispose of the Imphadi. Stormbearer will do." he strums a note or two, but 
  then stops and asks. "Faanshi, if you don't mind my asking, what kind of 
  magic do you use?" then before you can even answer "I sorry for asking, but 
  it's been on my mind for a number of days."

The girl blinks at this, just a bit of barely detectable reaction in the dim 
  circle of light around the fire. Thus far, practically every male of her 
  acquaintance outside Atesh-Gah has asked her not to call them 'imphadi'; it 
  feels distinctly odd to her, but then again, the maiden is not inclined to 
  go against a polite request from anyone. "Yes, StormBearer," she murmurs 
  obediently. Then, cautiously, for her legs feel strange to her after hours 
  a-horse, she sinks down to sit by the fire. Rather more shyly, she answers 
  the Herald's question, "I am a healer."

A Healer. As the words come from Faanshi, understanding dawns on the Herald's 
  face. That makes much sense. "A Healer? That is a usefull magic indeed." he 
  hesitates, looking a bit embarrassed. A light mumble escapes his lips, but 
  it is too low to be heard. He strums a few more bar on the lute, the humming 
  once more comming from him.

"It is... not as useful as it could be, imph--" Faanshi catches herself then, 
  before she can utter the reflexive title, in the middle of her plaintive 
  words. "That is why I am coming to Avalon with Thomas, so that I may 
  practice my magic, and better serve my people when I go home again."

StormBearer shakes his head, not in disagreement with you, but with some 
  unspoken notion within his mind. "It is much more usefull than what I 
  possess, at least as I can use it" he says, letting another quiet note on 
  the lute ring lightly about him.

"You are a mage?" The maiden's voice holds noticeable surprise. In her 
  experience, mages are still quite rare enough that to encounter a new one is 
  still a marvel.

StormBearer's head moves to the side a bit, and the edge of his mouth curls up 
  in slightest hint of a smile. "Only in the lightest meaning of the word. I 
  have never been trained." he pauses then adds "I am clairvoyant"

That last word makes Faanshi straighten up in something that very well may be 
  recognition. "You see things?" she blurts, her gaze flashing momentarily up 
  to consider the Sylvan. "Before they happen?"

StormBearer lets out a bit of a laugh, but stifles anymore laughter than might 
  have come had he not restrained himself. "Hardly. I have never seen a 
  vision. My only strength is that I can tell wether someone can use magic or 
  not."

Faanshi considers this, nodding slowly, lowering her eyes again. "My 
  heart-mother was clair-vo-yant," she murmurs, the word sitting a little 
  oddly in her pronunication. "She had visions sometimes. In important times. 
  Perhaps you will have a vision if an important time comes...?"

StormBearer shakes his head. "I fear if it did not happen last time, it will 
  not happen later on. I have often thought of joining Delphi, but that would 
  require my giving up the Heralds, and that I am not prepared to do."

Not quite knowing what to say to this, still rather new at the entire concept 
  of conversation to begin with, Faanshi is silent for several seconds. The 
  embers of the fire snap and crackle, occasionally casting glimmers of light 
  across her and allowing glimpses of her leaf-colored eyes. She curls her 
  arms about her knees, her head inclined at that demure angle that seems 
  habitual for her. "My heart-mother had only five visions in her whole life, 
  and she was very old," she says at last, very softly, very shy.

The Herald might not understand exactly what the word heart-mother means, but 
  he gets the gist of it. "A fourtunate woman indeed then was she, at least in 
  that." he says, shruging a bit. Now if you've never seen someone shurg while 
  holding an insturment such as a Lute or a guitar before, you know how 
  comical this looks. With the up end down and the down end up, the whole 
  effect just looks silly, made even more so in fact, by the nature of the 
  converstation.

As an Empyrean Praetor has recently learned, Faanshi is not particularly 
  inclined to humor. But the girl is not immune to silliness, and as she peeks 
  at the instrument in yet another furtive attempt to study it, she sees it 
  wiggle. And the tiniest of noises, a noise that might actually be a giggle 
  if only it were louder, escapes her.

Oh No. Now you've done it. When unfourtunatly humor-impaired people laugh(or 
  emit something close to a laugh) at this Herald, it goes straight to his 
  head. Watch out, soon he's going to try to act clever. "Tell me Faanshi, 
  have you ever been to Delphi?"

The almost-giggle vanishes at the question, and silently, the girl shakes her 
  veiled and sari-covered head.

StormBearer is now at a loss for words. In thier place, comes a skillfull and 
  well placed yawn. Seems this Herald needs his sleep. As if he didn't get 
  enough. Hah. But hey, he's been up all day today, travelling and so on, 
  you've gotta give him a break. "Well Faanshi, I'm going to hit the sack, 
  I'll see you tommorow."

Hit... the sack. Oh! Comprehension takes a moment, but then the shudra girl 
  nods earnestly, rising to her feet and bobbing her head to the Herald over 
  the hands she draws up to clasp at her breast. "Namaste', Imph--er... 
  StormBearer. Good night," she murmurs.

[End log.]