Gypsy Camp
In a clearing of broken stone, brown grass and golden leaves, a train of gypsy wagons has pulled off the old brick highway, and circled up, only a bowshot away from the cottages and grainary of Blackshire Village. Once brightly and garishly decorated during times of relative bounty, the wagons are now sun-faded, with peeling paint and missing ornaments, and more than a few nasty gouges and holes owing to attacks from monsters and brigands on the roads. Nonetheless, the individual wooden wagons are works of art in their own right -- each one is a mobile homestead, passed on through several generations, each successive one adding its own touches though such things as wood carvings, painted murals, or elaborately wrought hanging lanterns.

"Madame Natasha wants to see you about a job," Parsley tells Aviri as they reach the edge of the Gypsy camp. "I'd like for you to handle this all by yourself this time, alright?" She smiles warmly at the buck, showing that she thinks he's ready for this.

Aviri doesn't speak, but his posture is quite telling as he nods quickly his assent. As is usual for being in public, he seems to be trying to fold in upon himself, but those who know him might notice that he is slightly less folded than he would normally be.

"It's right in the middle of the camp," Parsley says, pointing the way. "If you can't find it, just ask anyone around you."

Aviri nods again and takes a few tentative steps away from his companion. He pauses a brief moment, then continues with a steady, albeit nervous, tread. His eyes don't flick about as if watching for ambush, but instead his head is mostly stable.

There's always activity in the camp, even if it's just laundry. And the dancers are usually rehearsing as well, children running around and odd things being cooked in odd pots.

The activity goes around not at all unnoticed but largely ignored by the buck as he makes his journey. Albeit an odd and, to him, frightening place, it is also slightly familiar which probably helps his demeanor.

"Quick, hold dis!" a squeaky-voiced young Rath'ani girl says as she appears in Aviri's path, and thrusts.. a still flopping fish into his arms. "I be ri' back!"

Aviri stops in his tracks, as if physically stunned by the appearance of the fish, and watches the girl run off into the organized mayhem of the camp. The fish flollops savagely in his hands and he re-affirms his grip on it. He looks back toward his quarry--the center of the camp--and then back to where the girl vanished, as if deciding whether or not to continue on or remain where the Rath'ani could find him. He apparently decides to stay because he grasps the fish firmly and sets himself into a more permanent, fortified position (well, as fortified as standing out in the open can be)

A few people pass by, giving the fish-bearing Lapi odd looks or muttering to one another. The fish is still flopping. It has legs, Aviri notices now. Three of them. Flopping off the end of the tail. And what might be a tiny tusk sticking out from one side of its mouth.

The odd fish-creature begins to occupy more of Aviri's attention. He turns it around, examining it from all sides. His mouth moves slightly as he mutters under his breath. Every so often he looks up, eager to see the girl come back. "How soon is 'right back'," he says mostly to himself. As he observes the creature in his hands he holds it progressively farther away from himself until he's nearly holding it at arms' length.

"I back!" announces the raccoon girl, as she lugs a big bucket full of swamp water to where Aviri waits. "Put it inna bucket please!"

The lapi gladly deposits the fish-thing into the bucket, wiping his hands on a discreet part of his trousers. He opens his mouth a bit as if to speak, but his eyes flick back toward the center of camp. He makes to continue his journey, but stops. Social protocol in such a situation is alien to him, and he figures he should at least give farewell to the girl before continuing his journey. Only he doesn't know how to go about initiating a farewell, and so remains standing there awkwardly.

"Thanks mister!" the girl declares, and drags her bucket and mutant fish away, cackling a bit.

Aviri watches her leave a moment before continuing on, looking at his hands as if expecting them to become odd fish-things out of mere contact with the creature. He wipes them again and, as he walks, pays quite a bit more attention to those around him,

Nobody else seems intent on disturbing him. Maybe they're even going out of their way to avoid him a bit. In short order, the Lapi finds himself at the step of Madame Natasha's somewhat ominous-looking wagon. All of the windows are shuttered or blocked with heavy curtains, and there are strange symbols carved into the door.

Reguarding the symbols, Aviri knocks politely on the door, shrinking into himself as much as he can. Either the symbols or the curtains or the general ominousness of the wagon has made him quite nervous.

"The door creaks open seemingly on its own accord. Beyond it, the overcast light of the day seems to be swallowed up in shadow. "Enter, chil' of the burrow," calls a voice from within. Two greenish eyes can be barely seen deep within the wagon at its far end.

Madame Natasha's WagonDark. Very, very dark. The khatta seems to prefer to keep the lights low in her somber wagon. The walls are draped in black fabric with arcane silver-ish symbols. In the center of the wagon sits a round table that's about enough to seat three people around it. In the center of the table rests a crystal ball. A few feet behind the table hangs another sheet of dark fabric, presumably for keeping her bedding and personal items away from prying eyes.

"I-I think I'd r-ra.." Aviri starts to say, but the welcome of the low light, so similar to that of the burrows and, to a lesser extent, dusk under a heavy forest canopy, makes him think. He takes in curtains and table and ball and steps into the wagon slowly. "A-Aviri Chal-lk," he says as loud as he can, clearing his throat, though the sound is little more than a whisper.

"I kno'. An vou are no comfortable around others. Seein danger in people dat isn' dere," the figure at the far end remarks in a quiet voice that still manages to carry. There is movement near her, a wave of her hand, perhaps? Quicker than it opened, the door now behind the lapi closes with a resounding thud. There's a snap of fingers and all throughout the wagon bluish 'flames' pop into existence on dribbly candles; yet they do not melt. Soon the inside is bathed in pale light. At the far end is an older khatta; one Aviri met briefly before, sitting in a worn wooden chair and wearing simple robes and a threadbare scarf, Resting on the bridge of her nose is a pare of half-spectacles; fitting since there is a closed book on the table. She must have been reading. "Please, haf a seat," she requests, gesturing to another chair next to the table.

Aviri starts at the door, but less so at the candles. He clears his throat again, but does not approach the table. "You wanted to see me about a job?" he manages to say without stuttering.

"It is more comfortable to sit," Natasha points out. "An' politer. But, no mind. Are vou afraid of ghosts, chil?"

Thinking a moment, Aviri advances and sits completely upright in the chair, arms folded in his lap, though it seems he's obeying some kind of internal rule book than he is trying to be comfortable. "Cannot say," he says. "Nev ... -I've- never seen one."

Natasha's brow arches a bit at that. Her lips twitch ... and that's about when Aviri feels like ice water spreading out across the center of his back ... no, worse. Center, out, then through. Chill flows out across his chest as a wispy-blue reptile of some kind slides out from the center of his chest to land on the table and walk over to Natasha! It's odd-looking creature; two feet long, pale, almost like a naga, but with four limbs, and a mane running down the center of its back from head to tail. It even has what looks like two very long whiskers from its snout. As it cranes its head back to look at the lapi; it seems to smile almost impishly. "Now vou haf," Natasha says as if what just happened was completely normal. "Well, mah familiar, in any even'. He kinna like a ghost. Same basic origi', magic shapes and brough' to resemble life."

While the hair on his neck rises and his sking tingles, Aviri shows little physical reaction to the familiar. Inside, however, he is mostly terrified and feels like he really, really shouldn't be in here. "How," he says, his voice breaking into a hundred pitches. He clears his throat weakly and tries again. "How long 'as ..." is all he can say before his lips just quiver to a stop.

"I haf a flare for de dramatic. It helps keep people listenin' an no' t'inking I'm some crazy crone," Natasha remarks a bit dryly. She waves her hand and the spectral lizard slinks around the table, stoping when it coils about the crystal ball. "An' I needed t' know 'ow vou woul' react t' a ghost like t'ing in a safe place. Because where I need vou t' go may have many that may try t' whisper t'ings t' you. Now, tell me, do you know what anti-venom is? How it is usually made?" she asks.

Aviri's ears perk up slightly. "No plant," he says quietly. "Charcoal and wa..." he stops talking as he realizes he's probably on the completely wrong track and doesn't feel that brute-forcing such a problem is the right thing to do in front of Natasha.

"No dat kind. Many are made from de actual venom. Common naga venoms are countered by modified versions of der own poison," Natasha explains as she adjusts her glasses. "Some magicks work similar. De best spirit an ghost wards are made from t'ings only found where dey are heaviest. I need vou t' get me as much Necromancer's Beard; a kind of blood red moss, from a tree deep in de swamp. Makes de best wards. De place is called de black tree; grew on top of an old graveyard as I come t' understand it. A tree growin' so long I 'ear it looks like de bones of de dead. So ... spooky place, yah? T'ink y' kin do it? Most ghosts can't really hurt vou, dey jus' try t' get vou t' hurt yerself. Well, cept for de kind that voul try t' possess vou, but dat is easily countered."

Aviri is silent a long while, thinking, his ears twitching periodically. "Alone, right?" he says finally. "I can do it, but only alone."

"I coul send 'im," Natasha offers and gestures to the translucent lizard on the table. "But if vou prefer alone, so be it."

Aviri peers at the familiar. "I think I c ... sh ..." he falters, his eyes flickering about the room. "What does it ... do?" he asks.

"Be sarcastic, mostly," Natasha admits with a sigh. The ghost-lizard just shorts at that. The feline rises from her seat (wow, she's tall), and goes to a chest to rummage around.

Aviri just waits, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "Should go alone," he says quietly.

"Y' be alone plenty when vou are dead, but vour choice," Natasha notes after she seems to find what she was looking for. Back to the table she goes where she drops a small carved crystal hanging from a thin red ribbon on the table in front of the lapi. "Dat vill keep vou from bein' possessed. An jus' a reminder, don' let de voices talk you into doin' anyt'ing." the khatta notes. "Payment vill depend on the amoun' vou bring back."

He picks up the crystal and examines it breifly before wrap/tying it around his wrist, the crystal itself tucked between ribbon and fur. "Think I'll be fine," he says quietly. "Haven't seen anything couldn't handle yet."

"A phrase man' o de once livin' said too. Don' be cocky," Natasha notes as she sits back in her chair. She leans forward and as she retrieves her book, notes, "Vou are dismissed now." And as if on cue, the door to the wagon opens on its own.

Aviri bows his head and stands, hands tight to his sides by some herculean effort to keep them still. "How much do you need?" he asks, taking a step away from the table.

"Quite the harebrained request to ask a lapi to fetch the moss," the ghostly reptile finally comments from where it lays. "But he'll hop to it, I'm sure."

Aviri nods, though the gesture blends into another bow. Without another word he departs back into the bright sunlight and the noises of the gypsy camp. The change in atmosphere is so dramatic and sudden as to almost make one suspect a dream. The crystal presses hard into Aviri's fur to remind him otherwise.

Of course, the Black Tree is.. out there, past the Barrow even. Which means taking a boat at least part of the way.

Spoof as the door closes behind the lapi, he can hear a small voice grumble, "He didn't stick to the ceiling. I was cheated."

It's only after he gets outside that Aviri realizes that there are dozens of forests merely within walking distance of his barrow and he'd forgotten to ask even in which direction he should start looking. He stops yards from the wagon, only part of him registering the words. "Go back and ask?" he asks himself quietly. "Given a firm farwell, not polite...?" He takes a step back toward Natasha's home, then stops, ponders the various scenarios of asking her for directions, and then turns right back around and walks off very confidently in no particular direction as if he knows exactly where this demon-tree is.

"Hey!" calls a voice beyond the edge of the gypsy camp, followed by a shrill whistle. Since Aviri is the only one around, it is quite likely aimed at him.

Aviri looks about himself before realising he is the target of the voice. Shrinking a bit back he answeres, "Yyes?", managing to turn a stutter into a loud call of reply.

"Over here!" the voice calls. It seems to be a bush at the edge of the swamp. A whistling bush?

Looking at the bush, a look of dread falls over Aviri's face. He puts his right hand into his pocket discreetly and hurries off in another direction. "No time, gotta hurry," he calls back.

Aviri stops and sighs quietly, turning back. His hand comes out of his pocket, the crystal and ribbon removed. "Yes?" he calls back.

Aviri tilts his head at the voice, his ears lifting a bit from his back. The sudden rush of fresh air puts them right back down again, but he walks toward the bush, retrieving the crystal from his pocket and fiddling with it and his bag. "Stuck in a bush?" he asks incredulously.

"Don't be silly," the voice notes. "What sort of loser gets stuck in a bush? I'm stuck under a boat!"

Aviri stops. "Stuck under a boat under a bush?" He grips the crystal tighter. "What's your name?"

"Trilup," the voice claims, sounding more distinctly otterish now. "A Gypsy girl tricked me and stole my monster-fish!"

"Ah, and that got you stuck under a boat?" Aviri asks, his ears once again lifting from his back, this time remaining there. His curiosity has obviously overridden his anxiety.

There is indeed the edge of an Oggton skiff beyond the bush. "Are you going to help me or not?" the otter asks. "I'll make it worth your while!"

Aviri approaches the boat somewhat cautiously. "Worth my while?" he asks the boat. "How?" He draws back a bit, suspicious.

"Uh.. I'll owe you a favor?" the otter offers. It looks the skiff is just pulled up onto the bank, laden with baskets of fish.. and there's an otter's head poking out from underneath.

Aviri re-wraps the crystal about his hand and starts removing fish baskets, making sure none tip over, before lifting the boat itself.

"No favors needed," Aviri says as he does so, "but the story of how you got trapped under a boat would be interesting."

Once enough of the weight has been removed, the otter is able to squirm out from underneath, albeit covered in mud. "What? But it's embarrasin'!" the otter argues. "There must be something else? I can give you a ride to.. uh.. someplace in the swamp maybe?"

Aviri looks deeper into the swamp. "No, thanks. You needn't the story. I could get it from the Rath'ani who took your fish." He turns and starts walking away, but a bit slower than a usual pace.

Aviri stops and turns back around. "Aviri Chalk," he says quite fluidly. Perhaps catching someone in an amusing situation has alleyed his anxiety? Or maybe it's that there's only one person to deal with, and not nearly as odd as others he's met. "You?"

"Trilup Oggton," the girl notes. "I already told you that. I'm the youngest of three! That's why I'm Trilup."

"I know," Aviri says. "Was the 'Oggton' I didn't. How did you get tricked under a boat?"

"How could you not know I was an Oggton?" the otter replies. "I have a boat. Only Oggtons have boats! Are you really a Chalk? And Rath'ani are really tricky is all! If I tell you, you'll tell someone else. Chalks all gossip I've heard."

Aviri doesn't reply a moment and just stares off into nothing through the otter. "Gossip? You don't know me, though hard to say you've not -heard- of me," he says, recalling that everyone seems to have heard stories of the odd Lapi.

"Why should I have heard of you?" Trilup asks, her head cocked to one side. "Are you nut.. nostril.. famous?"

"Odd more like it," he says, his ears returning to their proper place at his back. "You wanted something else, aside from rescuing from a boat?"

"You haven't told me where you're going yet," Trilup notes, crossing her arms. "I gotta know that, in case you don't come back and people worry."

Aviri gives a slight sigh. "Just into a forest to get some moss. Not that dangerous. Do it all the time. I'm a botanist." While his voice is level and calm, his right hand clenches the trinket given to him, reminding him even still that it wasn't a dream.

"Rock tripe," Aviri says after a moment's thought. "Take me a while to get to where it grows. Someone heard it was edible, thought to get some."

"Never heard of it!" Trilup declares, and starts shoving the skiff back into the water. "If you.. huff.. need a ride some.. huff.. where just whistle.."

Aviri nods his understanding and turns back around to head off, but stops again. "You wouldn't, by any chance, know of a ... an old graveyard? Or something to that affect? For some ... research, for a friend."

"There're all sorts of old graveyards and bonepiles in the swamp," Trilup notes, getting her rowing pole ready. "Any particular one?"

"What, to all of them?" Trilup asks, and scratches her cheek. "Well.. Fillup isn't expecting the boat back anytime soon, 'cause he's watching Twolup 'cause she got bit on the toe by a frog, so.. I guess I could.."

Nodding the Lapi says, "Thanks. I would be ... grateful." He fiddles with his hands nervously, once again tucking into himself again.

"Just sit in the middle," the otter says, holding the shallow boat steady for the buck to climb on.

Aviri does so, only somewhat unsteady on the boat. He quickly learns how to keep his balance as he settles down onto crossed legs.

Trilup whistles tunelessly as she gets the boat into the water, using the opportunity to wash the mud off of herself before sliding back onto the end of the boat and taking the oar. "So, can you swim?" she asks.

"I guess that means 'yes but I don't like it' then?" the otter asks. "So, are you looking for like, bones or skulls or such? Cuz' some of the mounds have 'em and some don't."

"A tree? You mean the Black Tree, out past the Garden of Necks?" the otter asks in almost a hushed tone.

"Because that place is forbidden, you know," Trilup says. "On pain of spanking! I've been there lots of times."

"I'll risk it," Aviri says. He looks deeper into the swamp, his eyes full of thought.

"Well.. I've been close enough to see it," the otter ammends. "You hear voices as you get closer. And once I thought I saw one of the skeletons on the Garden of Necks.. wiggle. But at least it's not night time!"

"You're pretty quiet," the otter notes after another ten minutes. The swamp is.. well, like forest really. The trees are just really big and spaced further apart, usually. The exposed roots form cages.. and things move in the water under them every so often.

"Like the ones with the green swirls? Emmett says you shouldn't eat those, and gets this weeeeeird look in his eye when he says it. Keep an eye out for Old Swampy too, okay? She sometimes hangs out around the bone-mounds."

"Not alone," Trilup notes. "Usually it's a group, so we can watch eachother for signs of going squeavy in the head. And we never leave the boat. You wouldn't want to! The Garden of Necks is up ahead.."

Aviri is quiet a while. "I do," he says finally. "You can drop me off whenever you feel you don't want to go on."

"No way, can't abandon you!" Trilup claims. "You'd come back as a zombie and eat my head," she notes, matter-of-factly. They pass around a small hill rising above the water, with what appear to be headless skeletons growing up out of the ground.

"I'll be fine," Aviri insists quietly. "But neither can I make you leave, if you don't wish to." He leaves it at that and watches the scenery pass by.

"You're pretty weird," Trilup says, and then goes into Tour Guide Voice. "And here we are passing the Garden of Necks. During the last Necromancer War, Lord Draugh tried to raise an army to attack Stonebarrow, but the zombies were slow clawing up out of their graves, so Stonewall Blacktail took an axe and chopped off all their heads, then.. uh.. someone turned them to stone or something. I'm not sure about that part, but it's why the skeletons haven't fallen apart.."

"I am odd," Aviri agrees peering at the skeletons. "Interesting place," he says, looking for the tree that is his goal.

The Black Tree
On a small rise within the swamp there grows a tree with black bark. The trunk and branches are bulging with.. bones. Skulls, ribs, femurs and the occasional pelvis, all carried up with the growing tree from the mound, which also shows exposed bone here and there where the soil has washed away. The exposed roots of the tree resemble the fingers of some monstrous hand reaching down to scoop up a pile of corpses, and the red sap that coats things like dried blood does little to soften the image. Even the leaves are perpetually red. Clumps of red moss grow like hair on the exposed skulls in the bark.

The skiff bumps up against the soil, and Trilup is going 'la-la-la-la-la-la' and singing nonsense song lyrics, probably to drown out the whispering.

Despite his attempt to keep a calm demeanor, Aviri finds himself shivering at the proximity to the mound. He stands slowly in the boat and walks to the bow. "I'll be back in a bit," he says quietly, clutching his hands at his side. He is about to say something else, but doesn't and gets off the boat. With a few shaky gestures he manages to slip the crystal around his neck.

Aviri shrinks from the sound and whispers into the wind, "I tried to get her to leave, anyway. I can swim." He walks closer to the tree.

The sap makes it look as if some of the skulls are bleeding from the eye sockets. Especially the Lapi skull at eye level. Just a bit higher are the tufts of Necromancer's Beard moss.

Aviri approaches the tree cautiously, spying the moss. He takes a few steps, but finds his fortitude quickly fading away. The boat seems so safe, now. And so close.

Trilup is still singing horribly. Maybe it works? This close to the tree though, it feels like something is poking at Aviri's mind every so often. The air around him seems.. frustrated.

Aviri grips the crystal, reassuring himself that it's there. "Can't hurt," he says softly, and he approaches the tree. He keeps his gaze firmly on the moss and not on the skulls, though their eyes still haunt his perhipherals.

There are a lot of sharp bits to watch for, but.. that pelvis is a handy foothold for climbing, certainly. Then he could hook his fingers into those eye sockets..

Aviri gives a quick look around for some kind of stool or prop, but finds none. He slowly releases the crystal, making sure not to yank it from its ribbon. The lack of pressure on his hand wasn't comfortable. He tentatively touches the pelvis.

There's a brief shock.. and then that odd sense of frustration again. Nothing more happens, and the pelvis feels sturdy.

Aviri regins climbing, carefully, trying not to look into the eyes of the skulls. He's getting ever closer to the moss, the tension making the otter's song fade into nothing for him.

"Just let go," something whispers. "You don't have to be alone, ever. Take us with you."

"I enjoy being alone," Aviri says as he climbs, though it's unclear whether he's trying to convince himself or the voices around him. Just a bit farther.

Finally! A patch of moss is within reach, looking a bit.. disgusting.. but it's there.

Aviri carefully plucks the moss and put it gently into his satchel whose weight seemed to be trying to claw him from the tree. Was one handful enough? He looks around for more, not wanting to disappoint Natasha

There's another patch, hanging from a Kadie skull, just around the trunk a bit more towards the back.

Aviri catches sight of it and works his way around, wary of both tree and what lay on the other side. His motion is a bit stilted by either height, the tree, or watching for something coming fron the unknown, or all three.

Holding on tightly to the tree, he reaches for the moss. He quickly tears a clump off and reaffirms his grip on the tree, his heart pounding. He hangs there a while, trying to catch a breath that never seems to arrive before finally giving up, storing the moss, and beginning his descent.

Aviri gives a shriek and freezes his motion. Turning his head slowly he tries to see what is doing it.

A large, pale white eye floats beyond the Lapi's shoulder, in the middle of a reptilian face.. that has seen better days. Teeth and bone show through holes in the flesh. Now, of course, is when he notices that Trilup has been shouting 'Old Swampy!' over and over all this time. The head reaches past on a long neck, and the mangled mouth yanks off another patch of Necromancer's Beard from a higher up skull.

With his mind racing and his heart pounding, Aviri remains frozen on the tree. The ... thing is blocking most of the ways down, save maybe a desperate leap from the tree and onto the uneven hill below. His mouth moves up and down, but the only thing that comes out is a high-pitched warble.

The undead Serendip grazes for a bit longer. Its sense of smell must be long gone, since it doesn't try to eat Aviri's satchel. But who knows how zombies sense anything? Eventually, the beast withdraws, flopping its way on giant flippers back into the swamp.

Once the thing is far enough away for Aviri to think 'out of earshot' he half-climbs, half-falls down the tree, landing on the bony ground, stumbling, and dashing for the boat, his ears flailing out behind him, his satchel and crystal clutched tightly to his chest.

"That was intense!" Trilup wheezes as she pushes the boat back into the water, and poles rapidly.

Aviri, having flung himself into the boat and laying there, shaking, tries to say, "All in a day's work," but nothing intelligable comes out, save something explicit about a Khatta.