Chapter 3: And Dream of Fire

A woman gazes deeply into the embers of the fire. She has fair skin and long blonde hair, tied back carelessly. At first glance, she appears to be dressed very untidily, but on closer inspection, one realises that she is dressed according to a system that is only apparent to those who have experience of rituals.

But for them, her whole equipment speaks a clear language. The many pockets and fetishes show that she is a theurgist, a spirit speaker who could probably do very wondrous things with fire.

The leather bag she had put down earlier contains metal; the sound was clearly audible, but she seems too bulky for weapons. Except, perhaps, hammers. She is certainly strong enough to swing a hammer.

Her dialect is eastern, not from this island, as can be heard from the first words of her introduction.

"I am Yaroslavy Koslovykaya, a zhritsa, a spirit speaker from the Silverfang tribe. I am part of the Lodge of the Sun of the Crescent Moon clan and I am on a journey, one of forging. And in case you are wondering what I am forging, my deed name is Licking Silver; I belong to the Klaive smiths of our proud tribe."

s on behalf ofEdmund looked the new comer up and down. "On behalf of House Gleaming Eye I offer you greetings. Be welcome. I am Edmund Burning Fang. I am a Half Moon of our people.". At this point Edmund knew little of these people, or why they were here. /but he would soon know more. He will have answers, as Falcon demands.

If you have paid any heed to the rumors of the townsfolk, you might find that this tall, bulky, unattractive man matches some of those of the Beast of the Sherwood, a ruthless thug who is assumed to lead a large ring of criminals in the area. But again, can you really trust all that common chatter anyway? He does, however, look as intimidating as the Beast, and definitely not someone to trifle with."And why would a Lady find herself outside of her castle at this time of the night, I ask myself?" Wybert answers to Lady Nieve with a smirk. After all, given her title, she is the one who should not be here.

Wybert carefully checks the lady in blue. That one would fetch quite the ransom for sure. It's too bad he wasn't more careful to stay hidden while running towards that fire. Chaos is, after all, a good time to make some profit, and he was sure that would be plenty of opportunities closer to those flames.

"Know your place cur! Garou or no, I will not have some baseborn peasant insult a lady in my presence." Came the snide bite from the tall Norman knight who stood proudly with his hand on the pommel of his arming sword. He had arrived from the opposite direction as Lady Nieve, and they had not met before. Thus, as chivalry demanded, Sir Armat bowed from the waist to her in respect to her station.
"Sir Armat de Plumptre, Knight Templar in service to our liege and the Lord, milady. I have come to investigate in defense of the realm."
One could not escape the fact that Sir Armat had a way with words and that there was a cunning cleverness to him.

He had not liked doing so. Sir Armat had been busy with political maneuverings to elevate his station when the news of the fires, and the strange falling fire, had come. Remembering with distaste that he had some obligation to the Garou to investigate (or that was to say, his Sept would make his life miserable if he didn't), he had set out.

"I will dismiss the insinuation that I am incapable of tending a campfire as unheard, but attribute it to the stress that the residents of these lands surely endure when so much is burning here. But I am disappointed that your perception omits so much more than mine."

After making this remark to Lady Nieve, she turns to the Templar.

"Indeed, his statement was rude, but it is understandable in response to her statement. But who am I to observe rules of etiquette here – my accent probably betrays the fact that I come from far away."

She stands up, holding both hands open at her sides, emanating an aura which has nothing to do with size or muscles.

"As warriors of Gaia, however, we have more pressing matters to attend to than getting into a fight over the first few words. In order to preserve our spiritual purity and keep a cool head for as long as we can, we should deal with this more formally, don't you think? Who would like to lead and guide the introduction – the Philodox, the Galliard?"

Like a blessing light, the outline of her body glows in a silvery light similar to that of the moon, cold, non-consuming flames that proclaim the glory of Luna. Somewhat dazzling, but still visible.