As it often is in Levitha's Pearl, it is again raining. The storm is muted, at least in comparison to the other nights Chiaroscuro has experienced. The sky is a sleet gray, and moderate rainfall sheets the landscape evenly and steadily, with no wind to wrinkle the fabric, and only occasional half-hearted grumblings from the sky. This isn't cause for a pause in work, for the tribeskavi, who have churned the dirt paths and patches of the settlement into mushy, six-inch deep mud. Highly trafficked areas of the village are spread with previous dried grass and straw for better footing, but most everywhere else, the dutiful ferretoids are forced to slog through the morass to go about their daily lives. None of them look bothered, however, and many of the kits seem to enjoy playing in it.

Chiaroscuro walks out from a hut where he's spent the night, clothed in a slate-grey shirt, pale gray trousers, and a pair of rather inadequate moccasins. A bandana rolled up and worn as a headband does poorly to keep the rain from his face, as he trudges along to the healer's area of the village.

The medicine hut of Tik'Draws-Venom is one of these highly trafficked areas, such that even the straw, grass, and thin branches outside his dwelling have been trampled into a sludgey stew of liquid dirt, and chunks of vegetation. The healer himself sits on the cross-section of a log, just inside the dry arch of his doorway, his stooped shoulders hunched even more than usual, and his arms crossed over his sunken chest. He stares off into the rain, his thoughtful expression betraying nothing of what could be on his mind. He doesn't even appear to notice Chiaroscuro approach.

Chiaroscuro walks quietly to the healer, and lowers himself down in a mild crouch. "Tik'Draws-Venom?"

The frail kavi blinks slowly. "Mm? Oh, revered Prophet. I'm sorry, please, come in from the rain. I sometimes lose track of myself when I contemplate." With the aid of his feathered cane, he stiffly gets to his feet, a few joints in his back popping. "Mmph… now then, Great Shaman, what may I do for you today? You are here to see your Skreek friend, yes?"

Chiaroscuro smiles at the medicine-Kavi. "I am sorry to have broken your meditation… but yes, I have to to see Kal. I hope he is better today."

The medicine ferret leads Chiaroscuro farther into the darkened hut, nodding as he goes. "Oh, he is feeling better now. He suffered, yes, but if the torrent of his demands and strange familial rantings are any indication, he is well on his way to recovery." Draws-Venom rolls his eyes. "Would that several broken ribs, deep gashes, and loss of much blood could quiet him… "

A brief pause. "If you do not mind my saying so, Great Prophet, you count some strange individuals among your friends."

Chiaroscuro chuckles… "You have not met Envoy of Lothryn yet, so you cannot know how true that is." He unrolls his headband, squeezing the water from it out into his mouth for a drink. "But my friends are good folk, Kal no exception."

Though it tastes a little of the cloth, the moisture is cool, and almost as refreshing as standing in the deluge itself. Probably less annoying too, as it doesn't soak the fur. Zieekal lies in the furthest straw pallet to the back of the large hutch, looking at the ceiling, his whiskers turning small circles with the tips.

Chiaroscuro pads quietly over, rain-soaked tailfur dragging slightly along the ground, and looks down at the Skreek.

The rat's head rolls a little to his left, to face Chiaroscuro as he approaches. "Chipper… hey… " he says. Though he's not brimming with vitality as he usually would be, he looks remarkably well, considering. The glaze on his eyes has left, and they are as sharp and clear as before. Rough strips of cloth are wrapped around his chest and sides, his leather jerkin lying on the floor at his feet. They're encrusted with blood, but it's darkened with time, so little fresh has seeped through the medicine packs beneath the bandages. A half-eaten bowl of some grain mash lies next to Kal's chitin breastplate… or what's left of it. The center has been shattered, as if blown inward by some tremendous force, leather padding beneath the remaining shards shredded into ribbons. Where the plate still exists, cracks zig-zag along its surface.

"Hello, Kal." He looks over Kal's injuries a little worriedly, then smiles. "You took a mighty blow, friend. But you look better this morning." He pats a paw on the Skreek's arm.

"Huh… takes more than an oversized scuttler to (cough, cough) put down a river-ranger," says Kal, smiling weakly. He rolls his head back to look at the ceiling again. "I was on my way back to the rim when night fell… I was pretty confused… you know… had a lot on my mind. I didn't expect the sun setting to mean everything with more than two legs would be crawling up my back and giving my ears love-bites."

Chiaroscuro nods quietly… "I have had much on my mind as well… but go on with what happened at night."

The Skreek laughs a little, then winces, controlling his breathing. "What didn't happen? When I saw Sir Vilzoph dead, I wasn't sure what to think. I gotta admit, you looked pretty scary… but I know Ss'alkran was armed, and I know there was a dead kavi there. Threw me off kilter, a bit, so I had to at least go off and think, there was too much goin' on. I decided to go back to the Rim to wait, and it got dark while I was halfway there. That's when Dagh busted loose every demon he could stuff in a shell and tried to cram them down my throat."

Chiaroscuro rubs Kal's arm. "Easy, Kal. Talk slower, it is better for your chest." He nods. "We saw some of the Nakh-zelak on the trail you did kill."

Zieekal's breathing slows, and he nods, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling gradually. After a few moments, he continues. "Yeah, I bagged a few of them… by Levitha's whiskers, I wish I could have known how much they were worth. Anyway, I'd been moving carefully at first… but it seemed like the scutties were getting thicker by the minute. Star, you should have seen the size of the centipede I nearly stepped on… it stayed low to the ground, but it had to be fifteen feet long, give or take a yard. I started moving faster, to Dagh's abyss with not leaving a trail. Then, they all just… stopped. No chirping, no more hornets the size of my head… just… nothing."

Chiaroscuro nods, ears perk to the words of the Skreek. "The silence. We heard it too."

The river-ranger whistles. "You too? I think it was scarier than the thrashing in the bushes, and the scraping and clattering and hissing. Not that I was scared, mind you." He takes a drink of water from a small gourd by his bowl of gruel, and wipes his mouth on the back of his arm before going on. "That's when I saw them. A bunch of lights all stacked together, like some kinda flying dice spots. Eight of 'em, just watching me. Had to be the Observer. I didn't know it at the time, of course, I just decided the shoot at it. I nocked an arrow… and whoo, that sucker knocked me. I didn't even have time to aim before the lights went out. Next thing I remembered was waking up here." He looks at Chiaroscuro for a long moment before saying, "That's part of the reason I'm not screaming my guts out at you… that deep-talking kavi told me you brought me here."

The mongoose nods to Kal. "After my battle with Vilzoph I was… dazed. They brought me back here to heal for a time, and when I was recovered… I and some of the Kavi of this village came to search for you, to see that you were all right… and so I might make some things clear about that battle." He runs his paw backwards through his headfur, sighing. "We came upon the Observer as well. It… took two Kavi." He pauses, teeth gritting together.

"I'm… sorry, Chipper," says Zieekal, sighing. "I don't know what's gone on with you and these kavi in the past coupla days… but I don't think anyone deserves to face the Eight-Eyed Observer. Least not 'till I get done with him." The Skreek raises his head from his pillow (which consists of his rolled-up overcoat) "I want you to save your explanation for Marshal Thistlewithers. You might've saved my life, and maybe you're not to blame for any of this mess… but you're still (cough) under arrest." The cough saps some of Kal's strength, and he's forced to let his head fall back again.

Chiaroscuro nods once, quietly. "If you feel you must arrest me Kal, so be it. But I swear to you that I attacked the serpent only after he first threatened to kill me. I am no murderer, even of snakes, but a protector." He pat's Kal's paw. "But until you are well, let us speak no more of this, Kal. You need to get better."

The rat grunts, then winces again, laying a paw lightly on his side. "Yeah… looks like I'll be laid up for at least a couple days," acknowledges Kal grudgingly. "Got a few cracks in my ribs, but it's nothing I can't move with once I get all my juice back in me."

Chiaroscuro nods. "The Medicinier will take care of you. Try and give him an easy time of it, would you, Kal?" he says bemusedly, standing back upwards.

"Eh, I won't give the old geezer a heart attack or nothing," replies the rat, shifting a little on his pallet. "Just so long as he doesn't try feeding me anything too weird from that Dagh-cursed jungle."

Chiaroscuro says, "Nourishment is nourishment." The mongoose replies, smiling. "And he knows best what you need. I'll be back this evening to see how you do, Kal." The mongoose takes a few steps away from the bed."

The mongoose replies, smiling. "And he knows best what you need. I'll be back this evening to see how you do, Kal." The mongoose takes a few steps away from the bed.

The river-ranger lays his head back again to resume watching the ceiling. "I'll see you then. If you happen to see my bow around… well, let me know. I don't think the Observer's going to be impressed if I stick him in the ankle with my dagger… "

Chiaroscuro nods. "I'll keep an eye open for it, Kal. Though the only thing we could do with the Observer is… let him observe. But we'll talk more later. Rest up." He heads quietly back towards the entrance of the hut.

The rain hasn't let up any, but at least it hasn't gotten any heavier. Kavi continue to surf the sea of mud outside, carrying bundles of sticks, or pots of drinking water, or harvested fruit, and whatnot.

Chiaroscuro looks around. All this activity, and… nothing for him to do, it seems. Re-tying his headband, he shambles off to the center of the activity…

Under a wide covered canopy, the familiar sight of Rey'Striking-Spear orchestrating her followers' duties can be made out. A long, crude table seems to be prepared, while smoke curls from what seems to be a cookhouse, made of more solid logs and sod than most of the other dwellings. Kavi busily occupy themselves bringing food in and out of the cookhouse, and arranging simple benches of felled trees by the tables. Several kavi dressed festively in colourful feathers and paints go over some sort of odd production, while others arrange large floral masses over piles of fruit around simple but recognizeable representations of Rik'Tik'Tav.

Naomi notes to edit a 'seems' out in that'un.

Chiaroscuro wriggles through the busy crowds of Kavi, smiling somewhat emmbarassedly at the looks of respect he keeps getting. Soons, he's reached Rey'Striking-Spear, bowing in his own respect to the chieftaness.

The chieftess grasps Chiaroscuro by the shoulder firmly, hauling him upright. "Chk' iksha!" she whispers. "You are Emmissary of Rik'Tik'Tav! You are not supposed to bow to me." She smiles instead, winking. "Anything else is fine. But this is to speak for another time. How is your friend?"

Chiaroscuro nods to Rey'Striking-Spear… "I am not accustomed to being so… respected, Lady Rey'Striking-Spear. Kal is fine… his injuries have not slowed his tongue a bit." he replies with a chuckle.

"Striking-Spear will do," says the warrioress, her smile still in place. "I am glad your friend is well. Now that we have a time for prospering upon us, we have time to celebrate." She makes a wide gesture at the canopied spread. "The feast in your honor, which was made to wait for so long, will be ready in a day. You will be shown to the tribe as the chosen one you are, blessed among Rik's children."

Chiaroscuro shakes his head just a little. "It is hard for me to feel worthy of such honor, Striking-Spear. But blessed I am, to be able to come so far and be able to work as Rik' guides me." He looks up to the chieftess… a rare thing, as he tends to stand with the tallest of Kavi. "Speaking of work… would it be improper of me to aid in preparation for my own feast?", he says, in a lower tone.

The chieftess laughs, a pleasantly light and chirpy tone quite different from her usual relatively husky and commanding voice. "You will, Great Shaman, naturally! But it will be during the feast. For now, it is up to our Tav's and Na's to prepare for this happy o-kay-shun." The kavi in question do look pleased. Many of the baskets of food are being placed just so, and the head cook's discerning eye has been difficult to please so far. Some tribal dancers jig in tandem in ornate (for a culture that is used to running around in the fur) costumes, laughing every so often when one of them weaves too enthusiastically and loses his or her headdress. No, the rain can't dampen these spirits.

Chiaroscuro smiles at the joyful Kavi. . o O (These people are so very full of the energy of Rik'Tik'Tav. Perhaps I will learn much for them as well.) Patting Reyna's shoudler with his in a friendly gesture, he says, "Then I will retreat to a quieter place, and pray that my part will be filled properly tonight. I would hate to dissapoint."

Rey'Striking-Spear grins. "After facing the Black Scourge and the Stalker-Slayer, I do not think it is possible for you to disappoint. Already, the warriors chant your story amongst themselves, so it may pass down our generations. For now, do as you wish among us, your fam-… " At that point, a confused-looking kavi with a woven basket of pulped roots wanders aimlessly past for about the third time, and Striking-Spear follows after him, chattering something in kavi-speak, pointing at the cookhouse.

Chiaroscuro takes the moment to retreat back towards his hut, going out from the canopy and alongside the cookhouse

This leg of Chiaroscuro's journey describes a loose triangle back to his temporary dwelling. The thatched huts seem pretty much the same around here as well as elsewhere, except for one curious exception. A large hole in the muddy ground manages to maintain its shape despite the rain's softening. A grate made of a hollow, tube-like wood criss-crosses the mouth of the pit. Though there's splashing and sounds of water from inside, it's curiously wide for a well.

Chiaroscuro peers over at the grate. "Curious… " He steps a little closer, and sniffs the air. It might be a offal-hole, and he's heard enough of exiles being dumped in swwers to give it a wide berth.

It simply smells of fresh mud. More curious yet, something akin to speech seems to be coming from it, though not directed at Chiaroscuro. It's too garbled to make out.

Chiaroscuro steps a little closer… the rainy weather making his steps cautious as he peers over the side…

The talking quiets abruptly. From deep within the hole, squares of light illuminate a number of faces… all reptilian. They float in opaque brown waters, built from the rain, no doubt. After a long, uncomfortable silence, one of the faces, a dark shape difficult to define in the shadow of the grate, hisses, "What do you want now?"

Chiaroscuro stares down at the snakes silently for a long, uncomfortable moment, then turns to walk away. He shudders in the rain, and retreats through the mucky field back to his hut.

A few voices, deeper than the one that first spoke, hiss, "Can't look us in the face, kavi?" "That's right, clear off 'till you can poke us to death with your sticks without turning your head." "Shh, shut up… " "What's it matter?"

Chiaroscuro moves beyond range of the voices, shuffling back into the hut that has been lent to him. He takes a deep breath, and spits, before uttering a word of Kittelian. "Nakhethura."

Snakes.

The voices fade out, lingering a little in the steady 'shhh' noise of the rain.

Chiaroscuro swallows, and begins earnest prayer to Rik'Tik'Tav. For nearly an hour, out loud, his voice continues. Kitellian words of lyrical power are said through broken tones.

Rik'Tik'Tav sends no signs or portents… but this is the way of such things. Isn't it?

Chiaroscuro finishes his prayer, and stands… moving out from his hut, and seeking out a warrior. Not Rey'Striking-Spear, not yet.

As luck would have it, beneath the protective canopy of a particularly gnarled tree where several female Kavis are stirring a large pot and tending to the fire, a familiar young Kavi warrior seems obvious… Tik'Stub-toe! He chatters in Kavi excitedly to the girls, gesturing with rapid swings of a stick.

Chiaroscuro walks over, waving a paw friendly-like to the female Kavis, and trying to get Tik'Stub-toe's attention while not getting whalloped. "tik'Stu-" *duck* "Hey, Ti" *dodge* "Could you." *jump* "TIK'STUB-TOE!"

Two of the kavi females giggle at Stub-Toe, while the one stirring the pot rolls her eyes, and directs a fourth one admiring Stub-Toe to return to stoking the fire. At the shout, they all jump, and look surprised to see Chiaroscuro. They say something in kavispeak, and immeadiately bow their backs as they kneel.

Tik'Stub-toe winds up to the thrilling climax, where… "Ack! Oh! Great Shaman! I'm so… " He tries to remember the right word, while getting down on his knees for a quick bow and scraping. "Excuse me, I didn't notice you were calling. What may I do for the Emissary of Rik?"

Chiaroscuro sighs a bit. "First off, finish the story for these ladies, without the prop," he says, grinning and nudging the stick. "Then I will need you to accompany me for a bit."

Tik'Stub-toe shakes his head. "No, no. It will keep, Great Shaman." He winks to the ladies, and then gets to his feet. "Where do you want to go? Have you decided to destroy the Death on Many Legs?"

Chiaroscuro shakes his head. "No, no, Tik'Stub-Toe. That can wait for a much later time." He begins walking, retracing his steps nearer to the cookhouse, and the pit where he saw the reptiles.

"I'm going to choose a new name soon," Tik Stub-toe reveals to Chiaroscuro as they walk along. "Everyone thinks I deserve one, because I was the first to meet you. What do you think of Tik'Emissary-Greeter?" His tail bobs happily along with an ornamental feather tied to the tip on a leather strand.

Chiaroscuro smiles. "I think it a more fitting name than Stub-Toe, young one."

Tik'Stub-toe nee Emissary-Greeter beams proudly. "So where are we going, Great Shaman?"

"Well… " the 'Shaman' replies, "I am not sure what to call it, or why it is here. That is why I need your aid." he continues on, until the snakepit is in sight, but not withing hearing range. "There. Under that grate."

"That? It's just a hole we keep prisoners in." The young kavi shrugs.

Chiaroscuro rubs his chin. "Prisoners… I see. Are prisoners taken often?"

"Not often," Tik'Stub-toe says. "This is a special oc… occas… time! It's a great honor to have you here for it, Emissary."

Chiaroscuro frowns a bit. "And what becomes of these prisoners? Are they given trial?"

"Given what?" Tik'Stub-toe looks surprised.

Chiaroscuro leans a little lower, and whispers to Tik'Stub-Toe, mayhap Tik'Emmisarry-Greeter now, "A trial. To determine what their crime has been, and their guilt or lack of guilt." He glances over at the snakepit. "Even for snakes, in my homeland, they are given a trial."

Tik'Stub-toe looks surprised. "What do you mean?" Then laughs, rubbing the forehead of his little crude wooden rikkorel, "You must be testing me, Emissary! Everyone knows the snakes are evil, because the Rik'Tik'Tav fought against them so his people could be free. Every snake that dies is a sym… sym… A strike for our freedom!"

Chiaroscuro rubs his forehead wearily. "Hrrrr. So it is, for most every snake, young Tik'Emissary-Greeter. But is it not so that the snakes first attacked, and then Rik'Tik'Tav defended against them?"

Tik'Stub-toe reaches up and rubs behind an ear, trying to remember the old lessons. "Ummm… I always wanted the teacher to skip to the good part! You know, where Rik'Tik'Tav fought Nakh and sent him far away, never to return. Then his people lived happily ever after, in Kitellia." He pronounces this last word as if it were another name for the honored afterlife.

Chiaroscuro pats Tik'Stub-Toe's headfur, as he mentally boggles at this fact. .oO( Kiteliia is… a land of great peace, surely. But wars have been fought against Nakh's descendants for over a thousand year. And they know this not? ) "Ah, but the whole of history is important, Tik'Stub-Toe. You see, Rik'Tik'Tav, mighty snake-killer he was, knew that it was not his place first to attack a snake, but to defend and protect when Nakh attacked. He knew the evil of Nakh, and was wary. and slew Nakh with great force when he attacked."

Chiaroscuro continues with his lesson, tail flicking behind him a bit. "Now, if a snake does wrong, he must be punished, and death is the suitable punishment for any snake, that he might be sent to Sheol, the great garbage-heap. And in a time of war against a snake, any snake is enemy, and to be slain."

"But… "

Tik'Stub-toe nods along dubiously. "I guess… " then brightens up. "Yes, that's right! This is just like that big war that Rik'Tik'Tav and all his friends fought against Nakh. It will take a very long time, but someday we will make the Pearl just like Kitellia!"

Chiaroscuro rubs his chin. "Yes, it does seem to be developing into a war, Tik'Stub-Toe. But if the people of Rik' start a war, there must be a cause, or else we lower ourselves like the dust-crawling snakes, who strike without warning. That is not Rik's way… we fight with fierceness and a bold heart, not like Nakh, who creeps in at night." He sighs. "This is hard wisdom to understand, between justice and vengance, and between ambushing and trapping."

Tik'Stub-toe nods his head wisely. "Oh yes, Great Shaman." Obviously he sees no discrepancy here.

Chiaroscuro sighs a bit. "Perhaps I can explain more fully later, in a sermon. One thing more, Tik'Stub-Toe. How are prisoners put to death?"

Tik'Stub-toe says, "Ohh… You'll see! At the feast. You'll probably be one of those picked to do the honors! It will be a great occasion!"

The young warrior looks quite enthusiastic. "Then we'll eat until we're all sick, and some of us will have new names. Then we'll be qua… good enough to lead our own raids!"

Chiaroscuro turns to the Kavi, with his best imitation of the severest Clerics of his homeland, voice stone-cold and gazed fixed. "Tell me how the snakes are killed," he intones.

Tik'Stub-toe shrinks, chastised. "What's wrong? What did I say wrong? I thought you knew all about these things already, Great Shaman!"

Chiaroscuro eases his tone somewhat. "You have done nothing wrong, Tik'Stub-toe. But the custom of your people- not the faith of Rik', but the custom- may be different from the ways of those of my realm. Tell me how the snakes are killed."

"Oh! Well, it's different from one warrior to the next. Usually, they go in for disem… Gutting," Tik'Stub-toe says, relieved. "Tik'Great-knife says his grandfather taught him that, because it works better."

Chiaroscuro's claws run backwards through his wet headfur. "I see."

Tik'Stub-toe asks curiously, "How do they kill the really special prisoners in Kitellia, Great Shaman?"

Chiaroscuro says distractedly, "A snake who is guilty, we cut his head from his body, quickly. It is a last showing of Rik's light to them, that we could do worse and do not."

Tik'Stub-toe says, "Oh." He scratches behind one ear, trying to figure out if this is a better way or not, then shrugs. "So, what did you want to talk about, Great Shaman?"

Some weak sheet lightning overhead lines a few clouds, followed by some minor rumblings. There seems to be no end to this rain.

Chiaroscuro says quietly, "That will be all, Tik'Stub-Toe." He raises himself to his full height, running his finger over the heart and head of his Rikkorel, and strides forth towards the canopy and cookhouse.

The young warrior looks confused as the Emissary of Rik is obviously not pleased. He says something to himself in Kavi, probably along the lines of "Was it something I said?"

The heart of the village is as busy as ever. Many jungle flowers are arranged around the place, and still they keep coming. Several of the headdress wearing dancers jig gaily around a lithe warrioress wearing a long and broad mask, shaped from the carapace of some enormous beetle.

Some drummers tap rhythm out for the dancers on both logs, and stretched-hide drums. The party hasn't begun, and yet the party's already begun.

Chiaroscuro walks with measured step, searching again for Rey'Striking-Spear. At full height and in his readied, digitgrade stance, he is clean in the crowd, nearly a full head over every Kavi.

The warrioress from the circle of dancers leaps gracefully from the ring. In fluid strides and turns, she capers up to Chiaroscuro, kicking her feet up high. The dancer practically twines herself around Chiaroscuro, and a familiar, husky voice whispers, "Hello again, Great Shaman."

Chiaroscuro smiles at the warrioress, but his eyes do not show a smile. He gazes at her resolutely, his earlier hesitation and humility passed from his form. "Hello, Rey'Striking-Spear."

Pulling her mask back so it sits on her head like a long hat, the chieftess with the everpresent blue stripes murmurs, "Were you not able to find something to occupy yourself? I had not thought you would grow bored so quickly."

Chiaroscuro nods quietly. "Yes, I found something. It did not bore me, though. It saddened me." He maintains his still pose and calm tones, as much acting as being the part of a High Cleric teaching the youth…

"Yes? What was it, Great Shaman?" Striking-Spear asks, tilting her head to one side. The revelers around them move on to their own pursuits, laughing and merrymaking obliviously.

Chiaroscuro beckons Striking-Spear with a finger, and says quietly again, "Come with me, please. We may need to talk a long while, before the feast." He offers his paw out to Rey'Striking-Spear.

Though she looks askance, the chieftess takes Chiaroscuro's proffered paw with no hesitation, to follow along with him.

Chiaroscuro says softly as they walk along, "Who led as Shaman just before I came here, Rey'Striking-Spear? Who was the tribesman that taught and guided, that served as the voice of Rik'?"

"The shaman did not 'lead', so much as 'teach', my Prophet," muses Striking-Spear. "Though I suppose he still does. "Tik'Draws-Venom is probably the eldest among us, and he passes down wisdom on the whole. As others grow old, they too pass their knowledge on. Though Draws-Venom is central, there have been many teachers before and after him."

Chiaroscuro nods quietly. "He, I need to see as well. Let us go to him." He looks at Rey'Striking-Spear with a moment of softness, where the Great Shaman gives way to the young, barely-tested mongoose who never earned the full litle of Cleric nor Priest. "I am sorry if what I do now, and what I may say soon, seems strange to you. It is what Rik' is bidding me do."

Though she grows steadily more puzzled, Striking-Spear leads Chiaroscuro back to the medicine-kavi's hut. Draws-Venom has taken up his usual post by the doorway, while farther inside the dwelling, Zieekal sleeps deeply. "Mmm? Back again? Your friend slumbers, Great Shaman, it would be best for him not to be disturbed."

Chiaroscuro nods to Tik'Draws-Venom. "It is you I need speak with, Tik'Draws-Venom. You, and I, and Rey'Striking-Spear, in private."

The old kavi looks surprised, but hobbles to his feet anyway. "Very well, Emmissary of Rik'. We can go to the hutch I dry herbs in, and you will be able to tell me what is on your mind. I should bring the Skreek some sedative anyway, in case his sleep is fitful." It doesn't take much time or exposure to the rain to get to the strong-smelling building, and once there, Tik'Draws-Venom begins picking through flaked leaves. Rey'Striking-Spear simply stands to one side, still looking perplexed.

Chiaroscuro takes in a deep inhalation. The herbs smell pleasant, if very strong, and lift the mongoose's spirits. .oO( Perhaps this shall be easy, Lord Rik'. But it will only be through you. Only by your power can I speak words against the hatred and scupperage of snakes, when I hate them and have killed one so soon ago. )

Chiaroscuro sits down on the dirt floor of the hut, cross-legged, as is proper for the telling of history and the speaking of holy words. "I must begin with the history of Rik'Tik'Tav, as we know it in Kitellia… "