[centre][h1][sup]The ap-Cantar[/sup][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/oHg2lyr.jpg?1[/img][/centre]

[hider=Summary]X) Survive
Miksuin and Furrayn mobilise their warriors to keep the storehouse stocked with food, encouraging the people to return to their activities despite the ash.

Hiwcantar sets out with a group to see what's going on up in the mountains.[/hider]

And when five days and five nights had passed, the ash showed no sign of abating. Soon even a big man like Hiwcantar found himself wading knee-deep in the ash, having to lift Tara onto his shoulder to prevent her from sinking in up to her chest. On his shoulder, Tara lifted a shield above her head to keep the ash at bay. The fields were buried in the stuff and the fishermen, full of fear and doubt, no longer rode the waters. Some of the smaller boats had sunk due to the weight of ash, and so Hiwcantar had ordered all boats be brought ashore and turned over. Though some brave souls were nonchalant in the face of this strange rain, covering their faces in cloth and going out to hunt and seek their livelihoods, these were but a few, and so the months spent storing food now proved a boon for there was enough food to sustain the populace for some time yet. 

But not forever. 

For some time Hiwcantar made his way through the ash before suddenly stopping as a violent wave of coughing and spluttering shook his frame. Tara patted his back gently and brought the wickerwork shield down to keep the ash from him. 'Keep it over your head, sweetest. Don't you worry yourself about me.' He managed, but she did not move the shield and her response was short and impassive.
'I'm alright, da.' With the coughing over, he continued onward towards the meeting house where many of the Tilaticantar elders and military men were gathered. A large number of riverfolk who enjoyed authority and status before had been, through a process of consultation, inducted into the council of elders. Those who saw Hiwcantar hailed him through the ash, and he quickly dusted himself off before entering the building. They all rose as the great chief entered, and they sat as he sat. Tara seated herself beside him, and her deep brown eyes surveyed all present. 

'It is two days since last we met, and the ash yet falls and shows no sign of dying down.' The elders were silent as the chief spoke. 'Our stores sustain us yet, and though some homes have collapsed under the weight of the ash none have been harmed. I have visited the people and have ordered men who have no fear in their hearts to clear away the ash where it is dangerous - from rooftops and from entrances. I have not found enough people to clear the fields as well, and so they are buried beneath the stuff. The ash is not punishment from GREAT Cantar as some seem to think, but we will most certainly be punished for our cowardliness in the face of tribulation. Only those who dare are worthy, and only the worthy will be found deserving of GREAT Cantar's good graces. Remember these my words.' Opening his palms to those gathered, he then invited them to speak. 'I am seeking your counsel before a decision is made, so how do you advise?'
'There were three voices when last we met, Hiwcantar,' said Virimdantar, one of the chief's uncles, 'Oiqulm proposed that all the riverfolk return to their home villages and remain there, as that is the manifest will of Cantar, and that "those who came from the Great Yellow Scourge should return to it". Old Howandar suggested this is a sign that we should not sit on our laurels - the Mewaris remain and GREAT Cantar clearly wants us to depart from here and fight them one final time. That is the source of this brief discomfort. Our brother, Ingantir, called out the foolishness of those who seek to speak for GREAT Cantar when you are his word and he has said naught. And that son of Fuldondar there, in whose eye is the very same battle-crazy as shone in his father's eye, wishes to scale the distant mountains and face whatever blazing hulks may be.' Hiwcantar nodded. 
'Yes, and I have thought long on what was suggested to me before. As for Olquim's notion that all riverfolk return to their villages of origin so as to regain the favour of GREAT Cantar, that is the essence of foolishness. As for old Howandar's suggestion that this ash is GREAT Cantar's sign that he wishes us to destroy the remaining Mewari utterly, I am with my uncle Ingantir - those who seek to speak for GREAT Cantar when I, his vessel, am amongst you are better off remaining silent.  GREAT Cantar has not spoken and has given no sigh of anger or displeasure. He is not one who punishes without warning or reason. That this is not punishment is clear, and those who seek to speak for the god speak best by retaining their silence. There will be no return to what was before, and there will be no needless assault on the Mewaris. It may surprise the weak-hearted amongst you, but I find myself leaning towards the words of that made-eyed son of Fuldondar there. In the words of Guldandar, though he is driven by nothing other than the battle-crazy, is some wisdom. I would climb the distant mountains where these fire giants are said to dwell, and there seek communion with GREAT Cantar. His advice and guidance is best of all, and so shall all suffering be lifted from us once more.' Hiwcantar made to rise, but then the voice of Oiqulm rang out.

'You speak and promise much, Hiwcantar! You promised us before that brotherhood would bring us prosperity - it brought us war and strife! You promised that victory would bring peace and glory - it has now brought us nothing but divine fury and punishment! You promised courage that courage would bring the grace of GREAT Cantar - but were we not promised that grace aforetime? Are you not his chosen? Where are his words and assurances and promises now? Or has he abandoned you? And you promise now that you shall go and commune with GREAT Cantar and seek his guidance - but did you not promise aforetime that he guides you always and will be pleased with us forever if we are obedient and worthy? Have we been anything but?! This is the truth Hiwcantar: we tasted suffering before your coming and we have tasted it since. And so your promises are fallen flat. We have given and not been niggardly in giving, but there is only so much you can ask of us, so much suffering we can bear for empty promises and words. Leave us be, man!' And cries of anger rose up at Olquim's repugnant words, though here and there were what seemed to be murmurs of agreement.

'Why, miserable wretch!' Hiwcantar declared, and Tara turned her eyes on old Olquim and surveyed him with cool disinterest. 'Your words reveal little more than your lack of gratitude, old man. What suffering is there now compared to what was before? Have the three thrice-blessed months not been kind since our victory? Has there not been food in abundance? Why, you have known more prosperity and abundance in these thrice-blessed months than in the entirety of your miserable life - yet you dare speak of suffering and of sacrifice? You speak of my broken promises - yet what but the fulfilment of those very promises keeps you fed even now? Even now that fishermen do not fish and the fields are suffocated by ash, what feeds you, old man, but the prosperity of these bygone months? Have some shame! Why, you are one who causes the shoe to cry out, should it strike your face, "for what sin am I struck?" Away with you and your words of poison. Leave us be says he who has little power or strength! - I can leave you be, old man, in the Great Yellow Scourge or in the midst of the Sea of Souls; what use will your viper's tongue be then? If you can speak no good then say nothing, I have only so much patience - and though your tongue may be as the viper, know that mine is as the cobra snake-eater!' Olquim seemed more irritated than afraid, however, and his scowl spoke as much - but his tongue, for all the old man's scowling and huffing, remained silent. 'Then to the mountain I shall go, if none object.' And none spoke out against this, though a number looked to Hiwcantar with no small degree of astonishment and fear.

And so with the decision made that the great chief would travel to the mountains, preparations were made. Hiwcantar gathered ten of Tilaticantar's finest warriors to him, the mad-eyed Guldandar amongst them. Tara - who adamantly refused to be separated from her father - was part of the company also, despite Hiwcantar's sincere attempts to have her remain. Miksuin and Furrayn were left in charge of the great town's defence and ensuring peace and order until Hiwcantar's return. And so, their faces covered, spears and wicker shields at hand, and long cloaks trailing in the ash, they crossed the Tala and set out along it towards the Tala's source and the distant mountains north.

For their part, Furrayn and Miksuin would endeavour to keep order and, increasingly, would have their warriors - wearing their shields as wide-brimmed hats to keep the ash away and covering their faces with cloth to avoid breathing the foul stuff - venture out to the Tala and further down the river in search of fish and other river creatures for their storehouses. The ash could continue for a long time, and they had to be absolutely prepared for that. Hiwcantar's defiance in the face of the strange rain encouraged these warriors to be both brave and worthy in the face of the unknown - to live on despite the storm. And both Miksuin and Furrayn would see to it that the people came to exhibit such bravery also, for themselves, for the people, and for the good place Tilaticantar.