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It's a long hike to the Rivermen's home, but not a particularly hard one. They head up the main trod towards Old Iron, getting close enough to nearly spot the tall belltower in the distance over the hedgerows and thorns--but it's there that they find a discreetly tucked away path that branches off of the trod, into wetlandy hedge forests. There was once a small trod here, but the changing landscape caused from the earthquake has made this land flood, rapidly turning it into... well, basically a swamp.
Still, there's remains of the path enough for them to follow. Teagan and Sigrun get that tingly feeling on the back of their necks as they walk, warning them of ambushes and danger lurking in the occasional murky puddle--which allows them to weave their way past at a safer distance.
Eventually they pass through the wetlands and find where they run into a small lake--or the lake runs into the wetlands, more like. In the distance, on the other side, they can see the Rivermen's dam. Walking along the shore of the lake, onto less soggy ground, they can approach from the side.
Having a horse to ride makes the swampy ground less of a factor, mercifully. She has room up there for one more person that's also interested in dry boots. (Don't everyone raise your hand at once!) She's not traveling to be inconspicuous, what with being a Bright One and a Fairest both. The long banner she bears at the end of her spear flutters in the breeze, showing the emblem of the Summer Court, this one with a crown sewn above it to show they're presently wearing the shiny hat in Shackamaxon, what with it being August and all.
She raises a hand in greeting to the first of the Rivermen she spots, slowing their approach so that their scouts and guards won't get the wrong idea about their motives for showing up unannounced. "Hello!" She calls when she's near enough to be heard, "May we enter the village?"
Annie's dressed in her leather duster, newly acquired hedgebeast companion riding on her shoulder. And walking, because being a mermaid means wet boots aren't that big a deal.
Charlie has been beaming the whole trip over. A chance to help out a nice group of hobs and get to visit her cute beaver friends again? Even wet socks can't ruin that high.
"It's us!" Charlie adds on to Sigrun, "The people who helped last time!"
It's probably no secret that Sturm doesn't like being in the Hedge. The fact that her clothing is all grey and black, littered with pouches for holding gadgets and trinkets, and she's wearing an overcoat despite the heat is probably an indication of her over-preparation.
The frost giant declines the opportunity to ride on Sigrun's horse despite how cute and gay she would look doing so. She muttered something about not trusting big animals, and left it at that before fanning out to act as forward scout on this uneventful journey. Y'know. Quietly. 'Cause she knows she's nobody's choice for diplomacy. Yet."
There's no shame in wanting dry socks, especially when it comes to riding behind Sigrun and putting your arms around her waist for the whole ride. It's even worth not being Light Shy in the Hedge. The Mirrorskin leans their chin on her shoulder and snuggles up close because every excuse is a good excuse. Even horses.
Despite it only being less than a month, the dam looks quite a bit different. Where as before it was partially broken, the wood brittle and causing it to easily fall apart against the weight of the water it was controlling--now... now they get to see the full skill and industry of the Rivermen.
The dam is even taller, thicker, and looks far more sturdy. There's hanging gardens everywhere, and the top of the dam is covered in thick green. They've built outwards as well--balconies have been made, where Rivermen congregate and relax in between sprints of work. There's even floating barges that stretch out onto the lake, where little huts and buildings are being built, and more gardens--and docks to fish at. Clearly the Rivermen are thriving now that they have the time to focus on their skills, rather than having to worry about... well, just surviving.
The guards do indeed spot them approaching, but the group is recognized fairly quickly. Waves of yells and calls go through the settlement, alerting the other Rivermen of their arrival. There's lots of friendly waves and greetings called out, though most keep on with their work. But the guards come down walkways from the top of the dam to greet them in person.
Among the guards? Nib, holding his... subpar sharp stick, rushes out on all fours to stand among the guards. Chips is clinging to his back.
"You may enter," one of the guards replies to Sigrun, leaning against a wooden staff. "You're all welcome here."
"WAIT!" Nibs says. "They didn't say the PASSWORD!"
The guards all sigh.
"There's not any pass--"
"For the safety of the dam, all visitors must give the password!" Nibs proclaims, undeterred.
Once she's near enough to the group to make it sensible, Sigrun turns to offer her arm and help Teagan down out of the saddle. Then she plants her spear in its holster and dismounts herself, dropping to the ground with a grunt. That done, she paces forward to meet the guards. She puts her hands on her hips and regards Nibs with amusement laced in her faux-serious expression, "I'm wounded, Nibs. You never told me there was a password. How can I give the password if you never told it to me?" She gives Chips a little wiggly-fingered wave, too.
The guards are grinned at. She's not finding fault with this at all.
Annie is duly impressed by the dam, even if she has no idea what condition it was in when the roots were still a problem. She very carefully doesn't laugh at Nibs' earnestness, though. She nods to the guards, hanging back for Nibs to give Sigrún the password so they can be admitted.
"Iiiiis the password 'Nibs and Chips are both cutie patooties?'" Charlie asks, giving a wave to the aforementioned cutie patooties.
Sturm's hands disappear into her pockets as she hovers awkwardly behind the party. This is too adorable for her. She's Wolverine crossing over with the Power Pack right now, and there is a tonal clash.
The Mirrorskin slides down out of the saddle and lands with -- not quite the practiced ease of Sigrun, but with grace. They walk up alongside Sigrun, reaching to touch Sturm's arm as a check-in as they go; their broken-mirror eyes swing over the dam. "I mean, they are, but I'm sure it's something like 'smart eyes, clever brain, big heart.'" Everything Teagan says is deadpan, with a touch of wry.
"Well that's cause I just came up with the idea this morning," Nibs grumbles, then waggles the spear at Charlie, because clearly this is serious business. "Flattery will get you no where!"
"Bristleweed Sours," Chips 'whispers' helpfully towards the group from over Nib's shoulder.
"CHIPS! You can't just give them the password," Nib protests.
"That is exactly how passwords work," one of the guards says. "You give the password to your friends, so they know it, but people who are not friends won't."
"Oh. Well, you're friends, so that's fine." Nibs then waddles forward to hug Sigrun around the legs. Then Teagan. "Hi grumpy mirror." Then Charlie. "Hi bird lady."
The others also get hugs, if they so wish.
"What's your business here today?" a guard asks the group curiously.
Sigrun pets Nibs's head when he comes to give her a hug, watching him toddle along again with a smile across at Teagan that makes it clear her ovaries are aching at the moment. While the kids are doling out their hugs, Sigrun answers the guard, "I came to keep my promises. We were able to resolve the roots, and I wanted to make certain you all had what you needed to recover. I ran into Miss Birch the other day at Market and she mentioned you all needed some luck and skills to help ensure the village is best prepared for the future. I traded some of my luck, but we've got arms and backs and aren't strangers to work, if there's work that needs doing. I also promised Foreman that I'd speak with the crown and come back once I had permission to extend an offer of official alliance. Which I'm happy to say I have."
She then glances back over her shoulder and says, "Bristleweed Sours."
Annie will indeed accept Nibs hugs! She even crouches to return them politely. When the guards ask about their business she defers to Sigrún, though, since the Bright One is leading the expedition.
Charlie squeezes the boy back. "If you need any help with plants, I'm, um, pretty okay with them. And, um, if you don't mind I'd really like to look where the vines used to be to make sure they haven't permanently damaged the ground."
"You're killing me, smalls. We can't give you the password if you never gave it to us in the first place." And then the nibling is waddling forward to hug Sigrun and then their legs. "Hey, kiddo," Teagan offers, ruffling the top of the beaver's head. "There ya go. Good job looking out, though." They crouch to check out the badly-pointed stick. "This is a good practice weapon," the Summer pronounces very solemnly. "Sig said she's going to come teach you. I suppose I might, too, if she is." The corner of their mouth pulls up just a little in the way that's equivalent to a Mirror-eyed wink, since they, you know, can't wink. "But, y'know, you learn from the bigger warriors, so, listen good." Do as I say, not as I do, apparently, as Teagan stands up and ruffles Nib's head again. "Carry on."
Nibs looks at Teagan, then the spear, then nods. "I made it myself," he says proudly, cheeks puffing out a bit. "You will? AWESOME! I'm gonna be the FIERCEST Riverman there ever was!" He falls into step along with the group, his smaller sister still clinging to his back.
"There's always work that needs doing. We'll happily accept any offers to help out around here," the guard replies. "I'll show ya to the Foreman."
One of the others steps forward to offer to feed and watch Sigrun's horse. Either way, the group is led into the dam through a door, into a wooden hall with tiny slit windows here and there to let in light. Alas, the Rivermen are usually no taller than 4-5 feet, and their homes are built for those this height--so anyone taller than 5 feet has to stoop over a bit as they walk. Sturm in particular has a difficult time of it, but she manages, keeping her head down and... crouch-walking...
Thankfully it's not far of a walk, and they are led out of the inside of the dam and onto a large balcony. The wood is covered with a carpet of soft fresh grass and moss, making it perfect for sitting. There's wide shallow baskets where plants and seeds are resting to dry out in the sun. As well as a large low table, where the Foreman is sitting, architectural drawings laid our before her, drawn on nearly paper-thin sheets of pale wood. The Foreman is clearly older than the rest, back a little hunched, and the fur around her muzzle and eyes has faded into silver, and she has a fair amount of scars. Around her neck hangs a brass pendant that looks like an upside-down V, tied to a string of leather.
She looks up as they come out onto the balcony, eyes--less dark than the rest, paled with age--crinkling in greeting. "There you are. I was told to expect you. Come, sit with me."
The balcony gives a pretty phenomenal view of the other side of the dam--a large river stretching out into the distance where water feeds through the dam, weaving its way through thorn laden forests that are now shades of bright, vibrant green.
Sigrun has a brief bit of conversation with Frygg to make certain the mare doesn't give her hosts any trouble, and then she passes the reins along to the guard. "Thank you," she is sure to tell the guard before following the procession up to the balcony and the presence of the Foreman. Sigrun removes her helmet and tugs off her gloves to toss them into the bowl of the helmet which she tucks under arm. This, so that she can greet the Foreman properly. "Hello again, ma'am. You remember Charlie and Teagan, I'm sure. This is Anneliese, and this is Sturm. They're both friends of mine from Shackamaxon." Sigrun sets her helmet down on the table and claims a seat for herself, trying not to look too absurd at the smaller than normal table.
"Annie to my friends," the Nymph adds, smiling politely at the Foreman as she takes her own seat, tucking her legs up underneath herself. It's pretty clearly a habitual position at this point.
Sturm looks absolutely murderous about being crammed into such tightly enclosed quarters, but she does her best to be friendly by offering a hand -- which is rough and calloused -- to the foreman alongside a grumbled greeting.
"Yo."
Charlie sits in one of the smaller chairs and nods along with Sigrun, waving politely when her name is mentioned. "It looks like yinz are doing a lot better!"
Settling down next to Sigrun, Teagan carefully adjusts the leather coat they're wearing so that Baby doesn't touch the ground. These things are important. "Ma'am," they agree, folding their hands on their lap, and looking back over their shoulder to check in on Sturm. The smile they offer back to her is encouraging and gentle.
She looks to each of them in turn. "It's good to see you three again. And nice to meet you," she adds to Sturm and Annie. She shakes Sturm's hand, though her paw-hand is completely dwarfed by Sturm's. She nods to Charlie. "We are doing much better. Thanks much in part to your lot."
She gathers the drawings into a stack and sets them aside before turning back to Sigrun. "Birch told me you'd be coming again soon. Have you put thought into the Oath you are wishing me to swear with Shackamaxon?"
"It would be mutual. And I don't want to tie your hands too much, either. You're a free people and have to be able to move about and adjust to the river's changes. The primary focus of the oath would be non-aggression and information sharing. We don't hurt you, you don't hurt us. And when we hear rumors of trouble heading the other's way, we share it. Your people know the wetlands better than anyone, and we could really benefit from having your eyes out there looking out for trouble. And then tack in a rider that we'll help one another out if there's trouble. We can come up here to help with your choring and harvests, you can lend us some fruit if we ever come up short and have wounded that need treatment, or the like." Sigrun summarizes the matter simply, "Friendship. We want to be friends with your village and your people, and we want to help you thrive here. For Chips, Nibs. For Birch. For you. For all the ones you lost in the dam break. For me, too. Helping you does my heart good." Sigrun admits, putting a hand to her chest lightly.
Annie nods to Sigrún. "I can be of assistance if you have any injured in need of care, too."
Charlie just nods along with Sigrun, deferring to her expertise. "I can help heal too. People and plants."
This bit is really between the people doing the talking, so Teagan? Stays quiet. They fold their scarred hands in their lap and watch the Foreman, broken mirror eyes glittering and reflecting back bits and pieces of the beaver.
She listens carefully to Sigrun, her old eyes intelligence and keen. She nods here and there, and looks to the others as they chip in.
"I like the sound of that," she agrees. "Though I want to be careful about the wording of the Oath, when it comes to sharing information. The rivers have their secrets, which we proudly keep, and there may be some things we cannot--or will not--share with you."
"But we will share what we can. It's our nature to help one another. Shackamaxon has proven themselves to be loyal and hard-working, and when we are given these things, we return them two-fold."
Nibs (and Chips, still on his back), starts to climb up onto Sturm's back--being the tallest here, and thus the best perch to cling to while peeping in on the meeting.
"The information we are interested in having relates to threats to Shackamaxon. The trods, its people. And, of course, whatever else you'd feel happy to share with us. Particularly from the Gentry. Huntsmen. Loyalists. Marcher hobs out here causing trouble for you. That sort of thing."
Sigrun then volunteers a potential wording, "For example, swearing to never willingly bring harm to one another; to share with one another when we learn of a threat to the other's welfare from the True Fae, their Huntsmen, and Loyalists; to report the movements of potentially violent forces in the hedge to the other; and to engage in trade and exchange of talents and services for the benefit of all; and to settle in a timely manner agreeable to both parties whatever debts are incurred during such exchanges. The last bit allowing us to run a form of credit with the other during time of emergencies when aid may be more one-sided, such as if you came under attack, or you had a poor harvest and needed supplies from us. I'm obviously not going to phrase that as a full oath, but. That would be my pitch." Sigrun offers a hopeful smile and tries not to look as excited and nervous as she is.
Annie just waits for the Foreman's response to that.
Charlie likewise waits.
Sturm is quiet as she waits.
The Foreman considers the pitch for a long, long moment. Less uncertainty, and more taking the time to examine the potential Oath from various angles, not leaving anything unpondered or taken for granted. It likely doesn't help with Sigrun's nerves, though.
"Yes," she finally says. "I agree to that."
Sigrun's expression breaks into an unguarded beaming smile. She's so happy she could shriek, but she doesn't. She just stomps her boots a bit and claps her hands excitedly. "Then I swear on behalf of the Shackamaxon Freehold and its crown, King Devon of Summer, that we shall never willingly bring harm to the Rivermen; that we will share with with you when we learn of a threat to your welfare from the True Fae, their Huntsmen, and Loyalists; that we will report the movements of potentially violent forces in the hedge to you; and that we will engage in trade and exchange of talents and services for our mutual benefit; and that we will settle in a timely manner agreeable to both parties whatever debts are incurred during such exchanges." If Sigrun weren't already literally glowing, she'd still be glowing figuratively.
Annie stays silent.
Charlie grins along as well. "I'm so glad that you agreed," she says, giddy.
Sturm breaks into a dopey grin, even if only because Sigrun's excitement is infections, not because her mood -- or the pain in her neck/back -- is particularly improved.
"I swear as Foreman on behalf of the Rivermen, that we shall never willingly bring harm to the Shackamaxon Freehold; that we will share with with you when we learn of a threat to your welfare from the True Fae, their Huntsmen, and Loyalists; that we will report the movements of potentially violent forces in the hedge to you; and that we will engage in trade and exchange of talents and services for our mutual benefit; and that we will settle in a timely manner agreeable to both parties whatever debts are incurred during such exchanges," the Foreman echoes in return, her eyes crinkling a little with warmth. The Wyrd hears their words, and for a moment there's a presence that hangs over them--over the whole dam--a heavy weight of obligation and alliance, before drifting away in the wind.
Nibs, still clinging to Sturm's back to peer over her head between her horns if she hasn't removed him, starts slapping his flat tail excitedly against her back. Slapapapapapapapapap.
Sturm has not. This is fine.
Slapslapslapslapslapslap.
Annie glances over at the sound of tail slapping. And then grins.
Charlie can't help but burst into a giggle fit at the slapping. She was right. Nibs is a cutie patootie.
Sigrun shoots both fists into the air and shouts, "SKOLLLL!" Because she is, indeed, incredibly happy. Sigrun can't help herself and shoots over the table to throw her arms around the Foreman in a tight hug. That's how happy she is. "I'm sorry," she mumbles a moment later, "sorry, I'm being the worst diplomat ever right now. I'm just..." Sigrun leans back again, flapping her hands a bit and swiping at her eyes because someone is cutting onions. Whew. She clears her throat and then states, "My friends came out here to meet you all and to help out around the dam. Point us to the work, ma'am, and we'll put our backs into it. We'll earn our dinner, thank you."
"I don't think diplomats are supposed to have no emotions, Adora," Teagan offers with a soft laugh, shaking their head in delighted amusement. "I mean, possibly, but, you know."
Even the Foreman slaps her tail against the floor of the balcony several times, and the sound is heard echoing through the whole dam as dozens of other Rivermen take up the slapping, creasing a thunderous echoing sound. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP. The sound petters out after a few moments.
Then she returns Sigrun's hug, paw hands pat-patting at her side. "There is nothing to apologize for. I wouldn't have any stuffy stuck up stick-sitting diplomats at my table."
She settles back down and nods. "We'll put you to work. But first I must keep to the Oath and warn you of a danger that has been prowling the Hedge." Her expression turns more grave.
Annie shrugs one shoulder. "I do not think any of us move in the circles that sort of diplomat is expected to, anyway." Her own expression sobers at the news of a danger in the Hedge. "What is it, Foreman?"
"It's not threatening your people, is it?" Sigrun sinks back into her seat, her hand falling to rest on her sword hilt out of habit and, now, precaution. She glances aside at Annie and nods her head in agreement with the question, looking back to the Foreman.
"Not currently, but I don't know how long that will last," she says. "There is... something roaming the deep forests of the Hedge. Something old and powerful. And angry. We had heard rumors of it's presence for a while now, but since the roots have been dealt with, it's been... more violent and bold. Straying out from the deep roads to slaughter and burn." Her head dips a bit. "One of our scouts was nearly killed, just a few days ago."
Annie blinks once. "May I see the scout, Foreman? I may be able to help them recover sooner."
"Did your scout wound the attacker? Do you happen to have their weapon, if so?" Sigrun's clearly of a mind to track the thing down presently, if ill-advisedly, for bring harm to her friends. She then nods aside to Annie and gives a look to Charlie, too. She's likewise a healer. "Can you help them out, do you think?" She then turns back to the Foreman, "Any description you have would be great. Any idea where it came from? Is it a Huntsman? Does it have a name?"
Charlie waits on orders from the Foreman. She doesn't want to go heal if she it wouldn't be welcome.
She shakes her head. "Best you speak to the scout directly, I think. All I know are legends. That it is a creature of war. We being peaceful folk have never had cause to encounter it before." She pushes up to her paw-feet. "If you two can help heal him, you'd have my gratitude. I'll show you to him."
Annie nods, standing in turn. "Lead the way."
During this conversation, Teagan's expression has gotten more and more distant, their mouth forming into a line. That expression -- as much as anyone can read Teagan's expressions, Sturm and Sigrun can -- is 'I have a bad feeling I know the answer to this question.' They unfold themself slowly, drawing up to their full height. "Great."
"I'd like to take a look at the guard's weapons and armor, if you retained it, ma'am. I'm a skilled smith and armorer, and I might be able to learn more about the attacks employed if I can see what was done to the guard's equipment. And possibly help your people design something more suited to defending against this thing's attacks." Sigrun rises to her feet as well, ducking her head a bit as she follows after the Foreman, snatching her helmet and gloves from the table along the way. There's a glance sent back to Teagan and Sigrun's frown deepens. Great, indeed.
Charlie stands behind Annie, ready to follow.
The Foreman nods and asks a passing Riverman to fetch what remains of the equipment to be brought to the medical hut.
The group are thankfully for those taller, not led back into the dam, but down a rope and wood walkway and staircase that is on the outside of the dam. So long as no one has a fear of heights, its far easier to move with. They're led to a lower level of the dam, where a round wood and baked mud hut/balcony juts out from the walls. She gestures inside. There they find a beaverfolk resting on a cot of woven grass and furs, covered in blankets. It looks... it looks rather like a bomb went of right beside the scout. Fur is burnt away, leaving harsh seared patched of flesh, the worst of it covered in bandages, ointments, and fresh leaves. His breathing comes a little labored, clearly in pain. He's being attended to by a couple nurses that are working on replacing mud-looking ointment and leaves onto the wounds.
A few moments later, Sigrun is brought what remains of the scout's armor and staff. There... isn't much left. Just burnt tatters of leather and a broken wooden staff.
The Mirrorskin moves in alongside the healers, and while it's hard to tell what Teagan is looking at, exactly, because of the mirror eyes, it's certainly the scout, in some way, shape or form. They crouch near the scout's head, resting their arms on their knees, and glances aside at the healers. They don't say anything, not yet. Asking someone to talk before they get healed is shitty.
Annie pales slightly on seeing the extent of the damage, but moves to kneel next to the cot nonetheless, reaching into her satchel for a jar of ointment. When uncorked, it smells of spring flowers, and somehow of sweet dreams. She rubs it on the scout's wounds carefully, but it doesn't seem to have all that much effect, only some of them healing over.
Charlie meanwhile raises her hands, rubs them together and her palms begin to glow like a toy with tiny LED bulbs. She puts her hands on the goblin and does her best.
Sigrun leaves the healers to do their healing so that she can begin examining the armor and staff for evidence. She holds it up to the light, turns it over in her hands to examine the entrance and exit holes. She looks at the burned edges more carefully, brushes the armor off over a napkin, and sniffs at it a bit. Then she tastes it, even, turning her head to spit it aside. She meets Teagan's gaze for a moment, then sets the armor and staff back down again and scratches at her eyebrow with the back of a thumbnail. "Teagan, you know you're one of my best friends, right?"
The healing of Spring does some of the work. The scout still looks badly burned, but the worst of the burns heal, turning from open fleshed wounds to scabbed over burns, layers of muscle growing over to replace some of what was seared away. More of the lesser burns close up at Charlie's touch, scabs turning to fresh pink scars. He still has traces of severe wounds in small patches on his skin, but enough is healed that he no longer is breathing laboredly. His round black eyes open to blink sluggishly, looking around.
"I know," Teagan says, looking down at the healing as it's in progress. That 'I know' seems to be both 'I know I'm one of your best friends' and 'I know what you're about to say.' They scratch their cheek with their blunted fingernails, turning their face toward Sigrun.
"Powderburns. Shrapnel. Bullet holes." Sigrun states manner-of-factly as she steps closer to Teagan. "One of Taire's. I can't think of anything else capable of this in the Hedge."
The remaining wounds heal enough that the Riverman lets out a sigh of immense relief. What remains doesn't seem to bother him much anymore. He wiggles his nose towards the nurses, then sits up slowly, staring down at the bald, scarred patches of healed flesh. "Huh..." He shakes his head as if to clear it, then blinks up at Annie and Charlie. "Thank you," he says in a rough, deep voice.
"The Armsmaster," Teagan answers, without moving. "I've been firing off Relentless Pursuit on him multiple times a day. I wanted him to start ignoring it while we hunted him. Like a car alarm that goes off, while we're working on getting information. He's a fucking bastard -- a real hard-ass bastard -- and we can't just -- rush in." Their hand comes to rest on the hilt of Baby. "This badass right here, surviving contact with the Armsmaster," and they tip their chin toward the scout. "Like, goddamn." Their face turns toward the scout, then. "Hey. I'm Teagan. Anything you can tell me would ... really help."
Annie glances towards Teagan, then, even as she continues trying to help the scout. "A Huntsman?" She asks quietly.
Charlie stumbles back from the wounded warrior and lands on her butt. "That took a lot out of me, sorry," she says to the assembled masses. Only, when she looks at them, she more looks through them and her affect is a little flatter.
She stands again, putting weight on her right foot which is twisted so the ankle is nearly making contact with the ground. She doesn't seem to notice. "Oh, you're welcome," she says to the hob.
"That's... that's real bad." She says, her eyes looking around the group.
Sigrun looks a little shamefaced when the Armsmaster is mentioned again, and not for the first time. She finds herself a chair and sits down in it slowly, clearly distracted. She pulls the ruined armor over again and resumes examining it instead of further engaging in the conversation just now. She turns it over to look at the inside of the armor again, rubbing a thumb over the armor's lining with a small frown. "Kevlar lining would help. Primal Glory, too, in the near term."
Sigrun snaps out of it almost immediately, looking no less shaken, but at least shaken and engaged in the conversation once again. Her prior mumbling is then explained, "Your armor designs are really excellent. Similar to what I use for my own armor. And it'll keep you safe from claws and blades, bludgeons and the like. But not against what Taire's Army can throw around. If your guards aren't familiar, there's a contract you can use to help called Primal Glory. It will provide them some defense against these attacks, particularly if you were to attune it to fire. With your permission, Foreman, I'd like to work up some designs for your guards and scouts that take advantage of some of the ballistic armor improvements we've made Ironside. The kevlar fabric I use is relatively inexpensive and I can teach your armorers how to work it into your armor designs that you currently employ. You might not want to use it all the time, but it will definitely help if the Armsmaster is prowling your territory."
The scout rubs at the scared half of his face, frowning, then blinks and looks up at Teagan. The Riverman stares a moment, mouth opening and closing. "You're... them. The one he told me about."
Foreman looks between the scout and Teagan, frowning, then looks to Sigrun. "Your help would be appreciated. We'll discuss designs."
"Thank you, Annie," Sigrun finally thinks to add. She can be forgiven for being a little out of sorts. "I'm going to take a walk. Speak with the guards and the crafters. I'll bring the broken armor and staff with me, ma'am, to deliver to them. And so I can explain what I have in mind." Sigrun's done all she can for Teagan in the immediate term. So gives their shoulder a squeeze and ducks out of the medical hut to seek out those she can aid more directly.
The Mirrorskin turns their face and kisses Sigrun's hand as she passes, and then turns their attention back to the scout. "Seriously, you're a fucking badass for surviving. Most of the hobs we found when we were trying to track him? They ... they didn't make it." This seems to be said as much for the Foreman's benefit as for the scout's. We got a badass over here. "Did he now," Teagan offers, all deadpan, but the statement fully a query, clearly. "And what did he say about 'us'?"
To Annie, Teagan answers, "No, not a Huntsman. A fuck-off huge hob. Nasty. But thankfully not a Huntsman."
The scout dips his head and looks aside, Teagan's compliments leaving him looking ashamed. "...Ain't nothin'. Ain't no badass. He left me alive. Just barely. Told me to deliver a message to a Lost that looks like a black mirror." He looks back to Teagan, a flicker of lingering fear in his eyes. "He told me to tell you that he's waiting for you. That... unless all you have left is the cowardice of a deserter, that you'll accept his challenge. That he won't stop and he won't leave until he's tasted your flesh."
The Foreman's ears flick backwards, this clearly being news to her. She looks towards Teagan.
A deep breath in, and Teagan holds said breath for a long moment. "Great. Cool. Wonderful. Cool cool cool." Teagan pushes up to their feet, turns toward the Foreman. "Guess The General wants his fucking assassin back." They push their scarred hands back over their hair. "I'm sorry youse were caught in the crossfire, here. We're -- working on -- tracking this asshole," they explain to the Foreman and the scout both. "If you see him... run. That's all I've got, until we can take him down. I'm -- sorry."
The Foreman stares at Teagan for a long moment, then nods in acceptance, unease lifting. "Apology accepted. Don't worry about us. I'll keep our scouts close to home until this is dealt with. We will manage, as we always do." She gives Teagan's shoulder a light squeeze.
"Would'a been dead if he didn't leave me alive for a reason," the scout mutters. "Glad of that, though hate to be the bearer of such a message..."
"Friend, don't fucking worry about that shit. People have brought me worse news in shittier ways," Teagan answers, resting their scarred hand on the handle of their machete. Just that action makes them seem more present, as if they couldn't fade into the background now if they wanted to. (They couldn't.) A small, thin smile offered aside to the Foreman. "Good idea. It would ruin Sigrun if any of yours got hurt over this."
Their gaze flicks toward the door with mention of the Fairest. "I should go," they offer. "Check on her." A pat for the Foreman's shoulder. "Thank you both."
"Thank you, too," the Foreman says to Teagan, and towards Charlie and Annie. Them included in her heartfelt thanks.
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