Dielle is walking along the looptrod road. She's wearing a Deadpool-riding-a-unicorn tee, courtesy of Teeturtle.com (look! Product placement!) and jeans tucked into cowboy boots. There's also a denim jacket, a cowboy hat, a gun on her hip and a bow and quiver, appropriately worn. She's loaded for bear. Makes sense, it's the Hedge. She looks like whatever else she's been doing, she's been sleeping. Probably trying to track down some dream poisoning. From the cranky look on her face, she hasn't been successful. Dammit.
Cassian had been on the lookout for key individuals within the Freehold, for different reasons. So, when Cassian had noticed Dielle treking along the trod, his attention piqued. Again, it was far better than dealing with a Roteater. "Salutations," calls the Darkling, "Mind the footholds." He offers, considering the Polychrom for a moment. Cassian was crouched, leaning close to the ground as he hunches, like a hawk awaiting a mouse. In his left hand is the bow, used to help him stay propped.
Since Iris and Alonso are motley, they arrive together! Iris tends to wander around in the hedge like she's on parade, because she's a Standard Bearer and they just feel like they have to do everything like it's required to involve some grandstanding or showmanship. That's probably why the brightly rainbow colored dragoness is wearing a billowing skirt and a tie-dyed kevlar best that says "AWESOME" across it like most might say "POLICE" or "SWAT". She's also carrying a large bow. She just doesn't try to hide at all as she and her motleymate proceed down the path, him probably on a horse. "And then we rounded the corner," she saying as others come into site. "And there are people up ahead. That's not part of the story, just an observation about the present. Hey, it's Cassian!" She waves.
'Probably on a Horse' is a very fitting description of Alonso, in general. Though this particular stretch of trod makes such things exceedingly difficult. For once he's left his horse back at the hollow. He walks nearby Iris, but not next to her. As that's a great way to get yourself killed, really. No, he shadows her a short distance away, nodding his head along at her endless storytelling without seeming to actually mind that the stories are endless or featuring largely Iris's own exploits. The odd shift in the present tale causes him to give her a double-take, which does prove he's been paying attention. "Ah. So it is." He lifts his hat and gives them both a wave. "And Dielle, from the looks of things. Shall we?"
Dielle raises her eyebrows, then tips her hat. "Greetings to you, too," she calls out to Cassian, and says, "Yeah, those footholds can be a bitch. How ya doin'? She sees Iris and Alonso and hat-tips to them, too, with a big wave and grin, because she recognizes them. Gisa Contingent FTW! "Fancy meetin' everyone here? Not the usual place, but what the hell!" The more, the merrier. "Then again, it ain't the back room of the diner. Just as well, I suppose, I put many more pancakes in me and I'm'a turn into one."
Cassian considers Dielle, before his knife-blade ears twitch a bit and he tilts his head towards a sound. It only took a second to spot the color-bomb that was Iris. Of course, Cassian doesn't recognize Alonso because he was pretty sure Alonso was a Centaur. A Centaur with a cowboy hat. "Pretty sure there are stories that start with four travellers converging on a dusty road," he says.
Iris tends to tell pretty wild stories, and not all of them are about her! Like the time that she and Alonso were defending a village against hobs, and she made up completely ridiculous stories about his past exploits, where about the only true part of the story was that there were people involved. Today it has mostly been about her, though. And now it's done. "Hey Dielle," she says cheerfully. "I remember some of those stories. There was this one time when..." she stops. "Now's not the best time for stories," she says as she and Alonso draw nearer. "What brings you two out here? We're looking for..." she glances at Alonso. "What was that again?"
"Trouble," Alonso answers Iris, both truthfully and in humor. "And since when is it not the time for your stories? Incredible." Alonso slings his bow over his shoulder and removes his hat to give the top of his head a scratch. He's still wearing a scarf wrapped around his head, but the itch is dealt with regardless. "Just patrolling the trods. Gisa and I have a hollow not far from here, so I typically walk between it and Stonehearth as a matter of habit. There's been a lot of trouble in the hedge of late."
Dielle says, "Hey, Awesome Iris. Hey, Alonso. If this were a tavern, I'd think a major adventure was about to start. But it certainly sounds like it should be storytime. What's been goin' on in the hedge? Last time I remember, somethin' was botherin' a hob village. Well, several somethin's. Is it anything like that?" She cops a squat somewhere near Cassian, and says, "Suddenly, I kinda wish it WAS a tavern." Like she even drinks.
Cassian considers the pair approaching thoughtfully. Then, as if remembering something, he parts his coat and pulls a small satchel free. He digs within it for a few moments. "Mmm, the Hobs at Moonglade have riled a bit. One tribe moved south before some Miners moved in. Now the North range at Moonglade is torch-lit and they control the caves. Nothing like a dozen Hobs with picks and axes to deter would-be attackers," Cassian says. After a few moments of digging in the bag, he pulls out a small shiny steel penny--both sides heads. Upon closer inspection, however, it seems to be stained, like an oil sheen of rainbow colors. He holds it aloft for Iris to see, before tossing it to her. "Shame I left drinks at the Hollow. I could offer candied Blushberries, though. Candice hasn't completely bought me out," he adds.
"Oh, the army of crazies and their female parent," Iris says, avoiding being too explicit in Naming things while they're here. "They've bothered quite a few, as far as I know. We really need to go deal with them don't we? " She looks at Alonso when she says this, like she expects the two of them to just go solve the whole problem. She's a Standard Bearer, though. It's a wonder she doesn't plan to do it all alone. She slides her own bow onto her back, rakes her taloned fingers through the crest of her feathers between her horns, and grins with sharp teeth. "And that's my secret, by the way, Dielle. I'm always on a major adventure."
"We just need to get Pilar close enough to get a look at the target, then we can move a strike team in right under their noses. End the whole business with a safe trip in and out, relatively speaking. Ashe and August were working on some research for us, in the meantime. And Cassian, too, has a plan in the works." Alonso says this while unbuttoning his coat to fish out his flask from inside. "Oh. We took some more prisoners the other night. A Major, and one of their tank drivers. We ambushed them as the were making another push on the market." He uncaps the flask, takes a nip, and offers it out towards Dielle. "Ratafia. Fresh from Catalunya. Kicks like a mule, but tastes... nothing like a mule. Try it." He nods towards the flask, offering it out a little further.
Dielle takes the flask from Alonso, and sniffs at it cautiously. "Funny, in all the books they got me readin' in college, ratafia is what women drank. If it's as strong as it smells, it's a wonder they weren't drunk all the time." She sips from it, then blinks. "Damn. Maybe they were." She's been listening /very/ carefully, and then says, curiously, "Are any of you actually part of the freehold at the moment?" She sips again before passing it back. They're very SMALL sips. Unicorns don't drink a lot. A drunk unicorn is a sloppy unicorn. And sometimes a weepy unicorn. Or worse, a unicorn that sings bawdy songs that might offend. She looks around at her companiosn and is very curious. "Oh, man, Awesome Iris," she says, as Iris's comment sinks in. "You're really Bruce Banner!"
Cassian returns to being the quiet one as he watches them. Whether the offered trinket was taken or ignored is left to mystery. "A plan that relies upon a condition that we cannot win the war in a single battle. I'll not shy from a battle, but, I'm far more useful in more ... clandestine roles. A destablizing element," he says, speaking of his own plan quietly, "If we can end it with a single stroke, I'm not against it."
"Shh! You're not supposed to give away my secret identity!" Iris says with a laugh. "I should join the Freehold, I just haven't got around to it yet. I also spend too much time listening to Pilar talk about why she won't, and maybe it's rubbing off." She shrugs. "But I don't really share her dislike for the system." She eyes the trinket that Cassian tossed to her, and she caught rather casually. "What's this?" she asks.
"Growing up in the countryside, it was what everyone drank," Alonso assures Dielle, "of course it may also be that Catalonian women are built of better stock than in other nations?" There's a teasing edge to his voice as he says that. "In any case, if you make it properly it can be quite potent. So. Yes. Don't overdo it." Alonso lets her hold onto the flask for now, since she's being careful with her drink. "Yes, that's the trouble of running with so many communist revolutionaries. A great many of us refuse to participate in Freehold politics and the like. I am ambivalent to them, really, since the Wyrd is hardly part of the science of dialectical materialism. And a king of the Lost is hardly the same thing as a feudal king vis-a-vis the history of material development. But. Yes." Alonso waves the matter off as an afterthought. "In any case. Two missions, I believe, should be all I need to cripple their war effort. It might not end the war per se, but it would absolutely cripple their means of executing further raids and replenishing their numbers."
"I'd like to add my two cents to joining the freehold. The pledge holds for a season and expires. Which means if a monarch you think is shit is handed the crown, you don't automatically pledge to them. And it really ain't about the politics, it's about hiding from Them a little more, and havin' more people who're pledged not to be Loyalists or Privateers watchin' your back. Kinda lightens the load a little, y'know?" Dielle pauses, considers the flask, then offers it to Alonso again. "Honest, if I hold this, I'll drink more of it and I don't drink enough to drink responsibly in the Hedge. Anyway, I do encourage y'all to join. Ashe is Queen and she's fuckin' awesome. And Byron's back bein' Captain of the Harvestmen and we really do need people. Preferably, people who already know how to fight." She takes a breath, and lets it out. "Maybe sometime, y'all could...meet me at the Aspire Arena? Ain't no-one in it since Jon and I closed it, which means it's got plenty of space for planning missions and I'd really like to join y'all on one or two or more. I'd like to know what's goin' on around here since I'm kinda Second of the Harvestmen now."
"Bought it with a dream about a hermit crab," Cassian says, adjusting to cross his legs and sit, "Melvin, if I recall correctly. I think it died in the Summer of ..." He pauses again to consider it, before finishing, "Seventy-three. The dream came twelve years later. It was taken from a girl by her Fetch, who lost it to a prostitute in San Juan, who traded it six weeks ago for a pie made from a Stag from a forest with no name. It's just a shiny thing. I don't think it belongs to me. Maybe it belongs to you," he says, looking upward a bit after the story. Maybe the sun was driving him mad.
At Alonso's words, Cassian considers things quietly for a moment. "Well, there we go, then. We should mind that cutting off the head doesn't leave us vulnerable to flailing hands, but if we can end it--Then so be it. Get me within sight and I can get you a kill," Cassian says. He didn't have an answer for Dielle, knowing nothing of her. What kind of Spy would he be if he gave up his plans whenever someone asked?
Walker comes down from the edge of the marsh above.
Walker leaves the canyon, heading toward the steep scrabbly slope beyond.
Walker leaves the slope behind, heading up into Echo's Lament.
It's shiny. It was tossed to Iris. Cassian says it doesn't belong to her. Iris is a Dragon. It belongs to her now, sure it does. She tucks it into the satchel she's carrying, with a care to keep the rest of its contents hidden that probably only makes people suspicious about what it is she's carrying around. "Thanks," she tells Cassian. "I'm not sure why you're giving it to me, but I'll take it." She smiles at Dielle then, mouth full of sharp teeth, and says, "oh, I plan on doing it. I just keep forgetting. You don't need to convince me, not really. Pilar and Alonso would be the hard sells in our motley, and..." she gestures to Alonso and shrugs. Look at him! "Anyway, I don't mind having you along. I think our first mission, really, is going to involve just getting Pilar to where we found them camped out before. She can open a gate to anywhere in the hedge that she has been, so if we get her there and come back, we can use her to open portals to invade without having to get our whole force safely through the Deep Hedge. We'll need a lot of brumebulb for making sure we all get back, too." She looks at Alonso. "Am I forgetting something? Oh, yeah. Rain gear. These things are nasty when they explode, maybe that might keep the goo out of my feathers."
"Maybe that's why Etsy wanted me to get her Brumebulb," sounds a voice from the mouth of one of the nearby passages. The speaker is unfamiliar, but the token pin- a sprig of autumn leaves- says he stands with Fate's Harvest, though who knows how he came to possess it. He's lanky, pale, very Ogre- tusks deform his lower lip, and his eyes are coals in pitch, behind a fall of mirrorsilk hair. His boots are hedgespun, red leather- a mark of the Red Walkers, though forgeable as well. He beards neitherr
"Maybe that's why Etsy wanted me to get her Brumebulb," sounds a voice from the mouth of one of the nearby passages. The speaker is unfamiliar, but the token pin- a sprig of autumn leaves- says he stands with Fate's Harvest, though who knows how he came to possess it. He's lanky, pale, very Ogre- tusks deform his lower lip, and his eyes are coals in pitch, behind a fall of mirrorsilk hair. His boots are hedgespun, red leather- a mark of the Red Walkers, though forgeable as well. He bears neither weapon nor armor, and lifts empty hands to show his intent.
ed, of the Red Walkers. A pleasure."
"You-- the Harvestmen? Really." Out of all that Dielle had said, this is the piece of information that surprises him the most. He opens his mouth to speak, changes his mind mid thought, then purses his lips for a long moment, covering his mouth with a hand, even as he accepts the flask back with the other. Clearing his throat, he starts again. "I hope that under your leadership, the Harvestmen can achieve their stated goals. I have attempted to work with the Harvestment on several occasions prior to now, and came to the conclusion that I was better suited to operating at my own liberty. With like minded individuals. The. Ehm. The absence. Of. Ehm. Bureaucracy and. So on. Seemed to mean things were achieved. More. Swiftly." Alonso's attempts at politesse are well intentioned, if a bit strained. "Between the one-sided discussions, the overall lack of response to crises, and the probationary rules and hierarchical ranks and so on-- it was not a good fit for me. I'm happy to tell you all that I know, and to assist you when you need assitance. But." He see-saws a hand.
Dielle says, truthfully, "Under Byron, it's recruitment for a month. Long enough to make sure you don't want to frag the people you're working with and that we can all work on teamwork. It's amazin', how easy it is to get in each other's way if you haven't drilled." Then she takes a breath and says, apologetically, "I can't talk about some of it to non-freeholders. Some of it has to do with activity and the way Summer seems to mean that everything falls apart in every freehold I've ever been in." She directs that at both Iris and Alonso, trying not to say what she's really thinking about the militia to non-freeholders because really, it's a dumb thing to do. "But that's why I'm turning into a demon recruiter, in some ways."
She nods at Cassian, as if understanding why he's not talking, and looks the New Guy up and down. "Hey, there," she says, in a friendly way, since he knows the people she's talking to. "I'm Dielle."
"No more Brumebulb for me," Cassian says, shivering at the thought. "I'll stick to Darkling wiles to come and go. Last time I couldn't eat for a week after eating Brume." Cassian says. There was no secret motive for the offering. Maybe it was custom to give shiny things to Dragons. Maybe he needed to find it a home. Who knows. But, she was a rainbow-colored steel penny richer and that seemed good enough for Cas. A moment is given to regard Walker, as he approaches and makes himself known. "I believe, what the Lady means to say is, new Leadership means potential for changes in methods and allows for growth," he offers, trying to prop Dielle up on something. Meanwhile, he seems passively thankful Etsy wasn't here to ask why her frand murder Darkling was a Greenie growing fruits instead of murdering people in the name of the Freehold. Looking back, Cassian does take the time to pull free a small white box. He opens it, exposing the mentioned candied blushberries. They're placed in front of Dielle, after Cas takes one.
Iris hooks a thumb in Alonso's direction and says, "what he said. Besides, why work with a rigid hierarchy when I can run off half-cocked and save the day gloriously?" Standard Bearers really are the worst. She turns to look at Walker, who is a stranger to her, and her nictitating membranes slide across her reptilian eyes in a transluscent blink. "It might be," she agrees. "Or she might have some other purpose. I'm Iris Drake, of the Fully Automated Luxury Queer Space Communists." The dragon turns to grin at Cassian and says, "the last time I ate Brumebulb it resulted in rainbow vomit. It's pretty disgusting, but the alternative was staying to fight hundreds of briarwolves with only a few of us, and everyone else decided to be spoil sports and run instead."
Iris hooks a thumb in Alonso's direction and says, "what he said. Besides, why work with a rigid hierarchy when I can run off half-cocked and save the day gloriously?" Standard Bearers really are the worst. She turns to look at Walker, who is a stranger to her, and her nictitating membranes slide across her reptilian eyes in a transluscent blink. "It might be," she agrees. "Or she might have some other purpose. I'm Iris Drake, of the Fully Automated Luxury Queer Space Communists." The dragon turns to grin at Cassian and says, "the last time I ate Brumebulb it resulted in rainbow vomit. It's pretty disgusting, but the alternative was staying to fight hundreds of briarwolves with only a few of us, and everyone else decided to be spoil sports and run instead." (re)
"... fully... automated..." Red sighs and sucks a breath past his tusks. "I thought Gisa was making that up. Good to meet a friend of hers, though. Hello, Iris- Dielle- fellows. Forgive the intrusion. It's sort of our thing to be familiar with the local Hedge. I was familiarizing and heard conversation. Dropped my eaves, as it were."
"No. No no. That was largely Karl Marx that made it up," Alonso assures Walker with a little dip of the head. "Some assistance from Vladimir Lenin, I suppose. In the praxis department." Alonso's sense of humor is great. Just ask him. To Dielle he leaves it at, "Let's table the discussion for now. But I would be happy to meet with you to discuss matters further in surroundings more conducive." In the meantime he uncaps his flask and takes another sip, then offers it over to the newcomer. "Ratafia?"
Dielle says to Alonso, "Yes, please, I'd like that. What's a praxis department?" She's got no clue. But she takes a look at Red's boots and says, "Red Walker?" She sounds hopeful. But she nods at Cassian and points at him, then puts her finger on her nose. "You got that in one. Well, except for the Lady part. I can imitate one, sometimes, when I'm real stressed?" She grins at Iris and says, "Honestly? We ain't all that rigid about our hierarchy. Not under Byron. Not under me, either, to be honest."
"Don't ask me," Cassian says, "When I was taken, Russia was still an Empire--And we didn't care anything about it, where I come from." He reaches up to scratch at his chin a moment, before taking a bite of the candied 'berry. Cassian's eyes shift to the Walker, then. "Just mind the Moonglade. Blackgators in the pools. Pretty sure Etsy is going to weaponize them," he says, offhandedly.
"I don't think that's the kind of thing Gisa would make up," Iris says with a look at Alonso, who seems to back her up. Kind of. Not really, but still. "Anyhow, yes, table discussion. Adventure awaits!" She points down the trail in the direction she had been going. "Or just the end of the road, and then home for dinner. It was good to see you all, nice to meet you Red." She glances at Alonso. "Are you coming with, or should I meet you back at home later?"
"Could credit Carl Sagan for the Space part. Then you've got two Karls," offers Red, nodding as Dielle picks him out. "Aye. We'll be here for the season, maybe longer if we're useful." Cassian's suggestion gets a firm nod of confirmation, and a brisk, "No worries. I'd rather fly than swim anyway."
"Pleasure to meet you, too, Iris. Anyone not headed home? I'd planned to explore a bit more before I headed back."
"Praxis is theory put into practice, Dielle. But on that note, I believe I should leave with the one that brought me. Good evening, comrades." Alonso lifts his floppy hat to all and sundry, including the newcomer, then returns it to his head with a little pat. "After you, Iris. I believe you said you were turning a corner?" Apparently he's prompting her to pick her story back up again. His flask is tucked away, and with a wave he sets out to join Iris.
Dielle considers the candied berries in front of her and raises her eyebrows at Cassian in question. "What are those?" she asks. "I'm not headed home yet, Red. See you some other time, Iris, Alonso! Continue to be awesome!" She tips her cowboy hat at the departing pair, and continues to cop a squat.
"Blushberries, candied in a proprietary blend of mine," he says, offering a tip of an invisible hat towards Alonso and Iris. "Salutations," he offers them, in their wake. To Walker, "You and me both. But, I can't grow lilies without water," he offers, before regarding Dielle again. "In any case, it seems the Dolls could be taken care of in short order. The Harvestmen may be useful in that element. Alonso seems to have a mind for these sorts of things," he says.
"We surely will!" Iris calls back to Dielle as she heads on her way, unslinging her bow from her back as she gets under way, billowing skirt flowing around her ankles as she goes. "Ah, right, so we came around the corner, wondering what made all the goats go running off, and we see this thing that looks like a giant ten foot tall toad with wings..." and the story continues.
Walker settles against one of the walls of the passage, shrugging off his pack and rustling about whilst they discuss Blushberries. Himself, he pulls out what looks like a salad wrap, though the contents look like white-gold clover. "Suppose that's true, about Lillies. If. You don't mind the imposition. The Harvestmen, they're our militia, yes? And the Dolls are..?"
Dielle nods at Red, and says, "Yeah, the Harvestmen are the militia. You thinking of joining? And Cassian, I've got a /real/ bad memory for hedgefruit. What do blushberries do? Besides smell good, which might be the sugar." She's squatting near Cassian and is clearly tempted by the berries and just as clearly doesn't want to put something unknown in her face. Ratafia's ok. She knows her limits with alcohol.
"An enemy," Cassian says plainly, "Maniken in service of someone they call 'Mother'. They've mobilized with Tanks and fire-based weapons. Quite dangerous," Cassian explains. "Alonso and the others want a battle to end all battles. I favor more ... subtle means. Eliminating targets of oppurtunity, individuals within the chain of command, and sabotage. Spying and Assassination, that's my game," he explains. "Blushberries are just a common fruit with a sweet taste--Good for candies. Candice requested them, so I had to come up with a good recipe. I'm a Merchant, you see," Cassian offers, "If you're hurting they'll mend your wounds, but, no other secret side effects. Just a tasty treat."
"I wasn't explicitly considering it, no. The Red Walker's aren't really warriors. I can- throw a punch, and I've got a couple tricks for inconveniencing pursuers, but for the most part, we're infiltration/exfiltration. That's not to say I'm not willing to help- I'm just not a fighter."
"Now, your preferences-" Walker continues, gesturing towards Cassian with his wrap before taking a bite and groaning happily as he chews what seems to be a delicious vegetarian treat. "Those're more my speed. The spying, sabotage and subtle means, I mean."
Dielle says, casually, "We've got a squad that's just for scouting and spying, y'know. We ain't all tanks." Man, she's really pushing tonight. But upon hearing that they're candied fruit that heal you, she immediately digs in and takes three. "That sounds /great/, Cassian, thanks!" She eats them slowly, nibbling so as to best enjoy the sugar.
"My proposal to the others was to create a game to use to measure their intelligence. If we can establish that they're thinking and following orders, we could infiltrate and eliminate. But, by the sound of it, they're a lot closer with battle plans. My plan may be too little too late," Cassian says thoughtfully. "But, if it means they're done, so be it. They're causing damage to the Hedge and they're an immediate danger to the Freehold and the Lost in the region," he says.
"Hrm. That so?" Munch munch. Walker grinds the hedge clover wrap to dust between his teeth and takes another bite while he thinks, and listens to Cassian. "I'm interested, at least. I'd need to talk to- Byron, was it? Make sure he understands he'd be getting the cooperation of the Red Walkers and not just me- and that means a hitch or two. But it's worth a conversation, if he wants to meet me." Munch. "I'd push for your methods regardless. Your methods give us an idea of what might be above what we're facing. Leadership and such, give us an idea if maybe there's a root needs purged. If we just wipe out what's here, maybe it just moves on, and keeps doing that and never getting whacked because it doesn't stick around long."
"To be honest, I'm all for Cassian's approach, too. I'm more of a tank than a scout, but if it's an army, put them in confusion by pickin' off the leaders and let the far-shooters have at them before putting your fighters in, is my thought. Don't always work that way, but as few fighters as we have as a group? And I don't mean the freehold, I mean the Lost, as a whole." Dielle grins, as she continues to nibble. "But then again, I'm not part of the planning. I'm just hearing about a lot of this."
"Whatever succeeds," Cassian says, hooking a thumb at Dielle. "If you're after Byron, she's a solid lead. And a little bird told me they're looking for folks. I mean, I think that's what they said--That the Harvestmen need recruits. I think," he says, smirking slightly with a mouth of jagged teeth. "Plan for defeat, expect victory. If they can end the war, so be it. But, we should have other plans in place in case that doesn't end it."
->> +Fruit <<- Walker uses 1 of his pow Catseye Clover.
"I as well," confirms Red through a mouthfull of clover, as Dielle mentions this is the first she's hearing. "I'm more afraid we'll cure a symptom and not the cause, and it'll become someone else's problem, someone with even less information than us." He nods as Cassian speaks of victory and defeat, though, apparently feeling about the same way.
Dielle nods and says, "Byron ain't hard to get ahold of. Especially since I'm the Second, so really, you can deal with either of us. But talkin' to Byron's a treat, so I recommend it to everyone, anyway." She grins, she's not even kidding about that. She nods at Cassian's talk of planning and also at the recruiting business.
"Otherwise, that's all the information I've got. They're hitting certain merchant trade routes for supplies, and they were bringing a pair of tanks towards the market when we encountered them last night. I've alerted the Roses, but, there's only so much they can do. We're all sort of in this together," he says, thoughtfully. After a moment, he begins to rise. "If you venture deeper into the Hedge, you'll find a white willow tree, sitting out amongst the Hedge in a place where it has no business being. If you circle it, you'll find Moonglade. You can find me there if you need anything of me, in particular, but mind Rozalia and the Hobs--I have an Accord with their mining company."
"I'm happy to discuss it with you, Dielle, or with Byron as well- all up to you." Munch crunch chomp. "Tanks. Do you mean that like treaded war machines? Or like big vats?" The directions earn Cassian a nod, but he laughs at the idea of messing with the Hobs. "Like I said, I'm not a fighter. I won't bother the Hobs none, friend."
Dielle says, "Well, I don't mess with Hobs that don't mess with me first. And I don't mean rudeness." She grins at Red, then hmmms. "I'll keep that in mind, about Moonglade. I don't have any love for the Roses. By the way, he means real tanks. I did see those once. They're pretty nasty."
"Treads, sadly," Cassian says, with a firm nod. "Tanks, treads and weapons that shoot fire. They have some weaknesses, but, our best bet has been with an Ogre that had the ability to destroy the Hell out of it," he says, snickering. A nod is given to Dielle. "The Roses are as they are, for good or ill, but they've been good to me. I'm pledgebound to serve them where I can, but, if you need help while you're in the market, come by my stall. Lunar Bounty," he says, a moment is taken to pull the bow over his shoulder and prepare to leave. "For now, I must see about a girl. If there's no other questions about the Dolls," he says.
New Activity ---------
"No, that's everything. Hellfire... sounds horrid. Makes a man wish he'd picked up a few more tricks of war. Think I'll talk to Dielle here, see if I can puzzle out anything I can bring to bear for the advantage of the home team. You stay safe, now- both here -and- with your girl."
... says Walker.
Dielle says, "Well, other than wondering why they're called Dolls...I think I'm as good as I can be." She grins at the pair and says, "Thanks, Cassian. You didn't have to share, but I'm glad you did."
"Manikens--Broken Dolls. We think they're rotting from the inside," Cassian says, rubbing his chin a moment in thought. A nod is offered between them. "Just remember, Lady--Swearing the Crown and Serving it aren't always the same," he offers, crptically offering an alternative point of view. If nothing else it left him mysterious as he ventured into the distance.
"So." Walker mumbles around the last bite of the clover, crunching it down and swallowing easily. "I guess you're just as in the dark as me about these tank things. That's kinda disappointing. Now I'm all tense. Want to get some details. You know?" He taps his foot in quiet agitation before grunting. "We could talk Harvestmen instead. I absolutely like the idea of providing you lot with some support. But while I'm first and foremost a member of Fate's Harvest this season, second comes Red Walkers. D'you think Byron'd have issues with that."
Dielle says, truthfully, "We're not that rigid. I mean, I'm in the Watchers and the Harvestmen. So's Rorschach. Byron's loosely allied with the Custodians. That's not to mention motleys people are in. To be fair, since I've been part of the group, the whole loyalty to a group hasn't been challenged at all. And the way I view it might not have anything to do with the way Byron views it, but...well, you're sworn to the freehold, right, Red?" She stands up, since Red's standing, and squatting hurts after a while.
Walker nods, sucking a breath past his tusks as he does. "As of this afternoon, aye. That'd be the contingency. And with the other clubs, I'm not so concerned, but folks have a tendency to go overboard when things slip military. Trying to cover my bases before I piss off someone I maybe can't outrun."
Dielle says, "The Harvestmen are the easiest group to get into. But we've kinda had a run of bad luck with the leaders. Jonah left. Byron...well, I don't really know why he left, but it left us with Paige, who proceeded to not do anything all summer. Most of the people IN the group aren't that active, so Rorschach and I got Byron to come back and Ashe put him back in. And he's training me, but there aren't enough of us to be all rigid about who's doing what. Rorschach's Lieutenant for the Scouts, I'm Lieutenant for the rest and we're both big on knowing who can do what. So's Byron. We're not military, just militia, y'know? The recruitment period's not to teach people how to fight, although we will, it's to make sure people know how to work together as a team and that we won't try to kill each other or get in each other's way when fighting things."
Walker nods slowly. "Makes sense to me. Can you give me an idea of your numbers at the moment? I don't need names or details, just- curious how many folks I'd be working with."
Dielle starts counting on her fingers. "Let's just say that the active ones I saw at the last meeting could fit easily on the fingers of one hand. Part of why I'm on a demon recruitment drive."
Walker heaves a quiet sigh. "Alright. I'll offer two things off the bat. My own scouting talents- and the services of our Hedgespinner. Material collection will be on the individual members- though I or another Walker may offer assistance- but we can take the materials and weave something for each ACTIVE member of the Harvestmen that needs something new. Aside from that- what do you need me to do, if anything, besides start showing up?"
Dielle says, truthfully, "Right now, showing up is good. For scouting talents, definitely talk to Rorschach, after talking to Byron. I'm definitely going to personally take you up on the services of your hedgespinner, it's kind of a crying shame that I never got around to getting armor for myself. You can see why we've got a major problem in the Hedge and no one came to the Harvestmen, there just ain't /enough/ of us and until last week or so, our Captain wasn't around either." She sighs. "And thank you."
Walker snorts, thick tongue flicking out to trace one curved tusk. "It's what we do. It doesn't cost us anything to turn your stories into tools. You just need to live the stories first. If you want armor... we'll do some research, see what's around. We'll get back to you on that. Meanwhile, decide how heavy you're willing to go, and let me know when we meet next. For now- I think it's about time to get back to familiarizing. Especially if we're gonna be in high demand."
Dielle nods. "I need to get back home, anyway. Got homework and some training to do tomorrow, and I can't do it if I'm not awake. It was real good meeting you, Red. If you need anything from me, look for the Aspire Arena in Fort Brunsett. It's closed, but since I live over it, if you stick a note in the door, I'll get it."
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