War-Forged Plot 401: Iron and Stone

Mai wasn't sure whether she should crap herself or be excited and proud. She was on an assignment with Hira herself. Surely that's something to be proud of, right? It would be...If Mai wasn't still so insecure about her skills. The training she endured had bulked her up. She wasn't just skinny and twiggy- She also had muscle mass lining her neck and back. The jutting of her hip bone had become less visible which, Mai was not so sure if she liked... She wished she was stronger, yes, but she didn't want to look like a bulky box much like the stallions that picked on her. Especially her medic. Buh. 
With her leather armor fastened tightly on top of her fleece coat, she stretched her wings to test the tightness. She hadn't really tested it at home as her father was doting on her with pride. So much so that Mai felt embarrassed that she had to quickly leave. This walking gave her the best opportunity to do so. Both her and her father had gotten up early for their own tasks. Her father was leaving to escort the new slaves for Aodh and she was worried. He wasn't exactly young- Sure he could still run and could still fight- But it wasn't going to stop his daughter from worrying. They had said their farewells pretty quickly. It left a bitter taste on her tongue. 

As she stretched her wings, curling the tips of her feathers; the children were playing around Edmond's legs. 
She watched them with cold eyes, rolling them as she turned her head away to look at the surrounding area. The air was cool, thank goodness she had her fleece on. So it was just two Valkyries, a medic and a scout escorting the higher ranked members. Mai hadn't gotten to know any of her Valkyrie companions. She was always so focused on her training that she'd go home as soon as it was finished so that she could fall asleep from exhaustion.
The other horses were not of her concern. She was doing a job right now. Idle chatter was not part of it. 
Mai exhaled heavily. 

(363) 

Hira | Shitlord

Hira wasn’t known for her subtlety. Generally, if she was annoyed, you knew about it. If she was biding her time, it showed in every ounce of her frame. If she was worried, it was evident in distracted eyes and tense, clipped words. Whatever Hira was feeling at any particular moment, could almost always be read in her body and flashing eyes.

Sometimes equines made the mistake of thinking this lack of subtlety made Hira simple. If she was unable to mask even the most basic intentions, then surely that meant she lacked the ability too to discern and evaluate nuances in other’s behavior, and took all that was presented at face value. It was of course untrue, and more so, something Hira was aware of and that she used to her advantage.

Thus the War Lord was quite aware of her group’s mixed feelings and misgivings about this mission, and she knew damn well they could read the anxiety and frustration in her own face. Which was probably why they were uncommonly quiet and careful around her. Good. Better that they were afraid of her anger, than afraid that she might collapse at any moment. Her recovery from the birth had been a long, frustrating road, and Hira would sooner cut off her horn than admit she still had yet to recover full strength. Better indeed that her group assume the obvious anxiety on her face was due to the mission, and let them dig no deeper.

A lack of subtlety could be a very effective tool indeed.

The pony’s ears flicked as Grigori and Anika suddenly leapt away, but she did not otherwise react, her jade-coloured eyes fixed (reprimandingly, it seemed) on the poor horizon. In general Hira enjoyed the chance to get out and travel Onea, to feel more than the familiarity of Skeldr’s stone beneath her hooves. But not now. Not when she was tired, when she had dozens of tasks awaiting her at home, not when she had to take an entire retinue with her… Not when it was a necessity. And a necessity it was. With War Forged’s pledge to assist Aodh in their ridiculous war, many of Onea’s best warriors were leaving the land they were meant to be defending. A land that needed defending. All because Hira had, in her youth and arrogance, shown mercy to the Bloody Flanks, and exiled them. Exiled them, instead of crushing each and every last one of their traitorous skulls, and letting their vile blood seep into Kaia’s earth.

But she had allowed them to crawl away, and instead of having the decency to die, they had clung on to Onea like some pernicious parasite, and they had multiplied. And so here Hira found herself, trudging through remote lowland backcountry, searching out a former comrade of Alistair’s.

“Mai, Nott, scout ahead,” Hira spoke abruptly, ignoring the sound of her children antagonizing Edmond and each other. “We’re getting close to where Alistair said we might find him and his family.” Without waiting a beat, Hira added “No, Anika. Grigori. You don’t need to follow them.” Hira hadn’t needed to look to know that the twins would have been fast on the tails of the Valkyries they so idolized. “Knocking down Edmond is so much more fun, after all,” she said, and turned her head at that moment so that she could fix Edmond with a thoroughly unapologetic look for giving the foals such a more interesting challenge. “He’s tall but I think you can take him if you work together.” A slight smile lifted the corner of one lip before Hira swung her head back around. Let Edmond deal with the twins, and then he could stop pinning the back of her head with his baleful eyes.

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Post 1 | 642 words

The farmer was yanking her pitchfork from the fresh earth and brandishing it in Mai's direction long before the Valkyrie could finish her greeting. "If you take one more gods-damned step," she hollered, "I'll turn your guts into fertilizer."

Once she was certain the message had been received and heeded, the not-so-friendly farmer flipped the pitchfork over her back. Telekinesis held it in place as she trotted the remaining yards between them, brow low over scrutinizing eyes. "You Ethinian?" She questioned, figuring she knew the answer. Mai's willowy build was out of place in rugged Onea, and her blatant disrespect for crops reeked of Aodhian ignorance. The pony glanced down to note, with no small measure of annoyance, that there was a potato crushed beneath one of the stranger's hooves. "I oughta kick your ass." She groused, tone lacking a real threat. "I'm Sif. What's your business on my farm?"

Sif looked beyond Mai and visibly paused, nose scrunching. She recognized their leader, though she'd never had the misfortune of meeting their War Lord formally. The earth had trembled the day Garok was slain, and in Sif's mind, Hira's ascension to the iron throne had been little more than insult to injury. She hadn't earned her title, only pilfered it from the recently dead. The right place at the right time, indeed.

"Don't step on anything else." She said to Mai, and slipped past the youngster to approach the War Lord's party. It was certainly an... interesting entourage. Not a single one of them looked a Shield. Two teenagers, an old stallion, a pony too short even for Onea to favor them, and...

Sif had heard the news of Hira's pregnancy, and she'd heard the rumors surrounding it, too. The farmland's crones had little else to do but gossip, and it was Sif's misfortune to often overhear their squawking. They said that the sire was an unknown Aodhian degenerate or a Talorian pirate; they said that one of the children had been born deformed with skin like rock. They claimed that she had not birthed a foal, but a screaming lindworm. Some even insisted she'd produced a kirin.

Sif didn't pay much attention to fantastical rumors, but there it was: the fantastical. She stared at the scaled foal for a good minute, and then turned her eyes to the party at large. "Well."

Hira  War Lord

Although Mai was new to her rank, and less experienced, Hira had no concerns as the pegasus slipped away. She was after all with Nott, and anyways it wasn’t as if Hira expected the Flanks or nefarious vagabonds to be lurking in the farm fields. Who would, aside from a farmer? Hira shook her mane out, gaze rolling over the fertile lands ruefully. She certainly appreciated these lands which grew food, and those who tended them- but gods was it dull. What with the unchanging scenery, the silence of the Brigid (clearly wondering why she was on this trip), and the twin’s occupation with Edmond, Hira allowed her mind to slip into a sort of stupor, and giving her mind the rest she could give her body.

Thus Mai’s whistle made Hira nearly jump out of her skin as it split the air, and the pony’s ears flattened and tail flagged as she whipped her head up, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The sight of a stranger threatening Mai with a pitchfork made Hira’s nostrils flare, but the War Lord had seen her share of opponents and knew a true threat from posturing. Which was good, because based on the description given to her by Alistair, Hira rather thought this unicorn might indeed by Sif, and she’d hate to have come all this way, just to kill him for hurting one of her Valkyries.

Sif spoke again, confirming his identity, and then he was approaching. A warm weight pressed up against Hira’s hocks, and she knew without looking that it would be Anika. Grigori remained by Edmond, and immediately caught Sif’s eyes. Hira watched cooly as the farmer stared at her child, waiting for him to look his fill. She was used to the stares her son garnered, and inevitable stares turned back to her, comparing them, judging. She didn’t much care what others thought about her, but the reactions did help Hira discern what sort of equine she was dealing with.

He didn’t look disgusted, or horrified, Hira had to give him that much. Others could judge Hira all they want, insinuate she was nothing but an Aodh slattern, a mare finally fulfilling her duty, or any other sort of asinine implication, but when the judgements were for Grigori alone Hira had a much lower success rate at continuing civil conversation… and a rather higher rate of hoof to flesh contact.

“Alistair sends his regards,” Hira said as way of greeting, jade eyes traveling over Sif’s stocky form. “I am Hira, and with me are the Valkyries Nott and Mai, Stone Circle member Edmond, and the Medic Brigid. And of course Grigori and Anika, my children.” Hira saw very little point in small talk, and after all this stallion was supposed to have been a formidable warrior in his youth, no matter how much the washed-up farmer he now appeared. So, Hira added without any further preamble, “I am here to ask you to return to Skeldr Town and take up defense once more in the name of the War Forged.” Not looking away from the stallion, Hira reached into her cloak with a flick of her telekinesis and brought out a roll of parchment, offering it to Sif.

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Post 2 | 552 words

Sif's gaze followed the path of introductions. The War Lord's 'Valkyries' looked a worse mess than she'd anticipated. Sif had expected little girls with more idealism than good sense, but was surprised to see such... twiggy specimens. The brown one - Nott? - had more meat to her than the mud-brain who'd smashed her potatoes, but neither served to impress. The farmer suspected they'd have a tough time plowing a field, never mind fighting for their country.

Her gaze lingered on Edmond next. She knew the name, but more importantly she knew his clan, for even in a united Onea, clan and kin were the lifeblood of society - particularly when it came to the political ladder and who occupied the top rungs. Edmond's clan had enjoyed a Stone Circle seat for more than one generation, but their passion for low-lander gods was an open secret that tasted bitter to many tongues. Sif didn't know how Garok had tolerated an infidel on his council. Sif didn't know who Edmond sent his prayers to, but she reckoned men didn't stray far from their kinsmen. The irony of this belief wasn't entirely lost on her.

Brigid was next. No complaints there, though Sif did think the mare better suited to a stationary hospital than the life of a traveling medic.

"Your children?" She drawled as Hira drew her attention to the foals. Sif shot Grigori an appraising look, quirking a brow. The colt immediately ducked behind Hira to join his twin, and together they peered around their mother's thick tail, regarding this stranger from a position of absolute safety. "Took that one for a lindworm. One that didn't grow quite right."

The blithe response did a fine job of masking the minor existential crisis the kirin caused. She'd have to work that one out later. In private. Sif forced her attention to move to the scroll, to take it, Hira's green teke replaced with Sif's orange. "Retirement's a pretty blatant 'do not disturb' sign, Hira. I hope that's not the only thing you came out here for. That is, I'd hate to leave you disappointed." She ripped the wax seal open with her teeth, and unfurled the scroll with a pleasant hiss of scraping parchment. "Can't imagine a situation your little, ah- your little girls can't take care of. Especially potato-crusher there." Her eyes dropped to the first few lines of text. "Good old potato-crusher, scourge of, of ah..."

She trailed off, eyes darting across the parchment. Her expression grew into a disquieted scowl. "This is..." Sif's eyes shot up to Hira, as though the War Lord's face might betray the situation for a grand joke. The War Lord's face was iron and stone. Sif exhaled, and rebound the scroll with a hurried lack of finesse. When she spoke, the mirth was gone from her voice. "Right. I need two days to get my affairs in order. Assemble the old team, see who I can't get off their ass."

Sif looked down at the paper, the broken seal. She looked back at Hira. "You should have killed them all when you had the chance."