[center][color=goldenrod][h1][i]Valley of Whispers[/i][/h1][/color][/center] [hr] A flash of pain shot through Gahers jaw as firm, bloodlashed knuckles rippled a stream of agony through his lower row of teeth. His legs wobbled beneath him, and in that moment his body betrayed him and he fell to the grass-flecked dirt below. Above him loomed two figures, threatening to continue his punishment. Serrat, by now a name feared across the valley, with a shoddy crooked nose and small scars and bruises from a short but intense life of physicality at Masol's side. Beside him, the lanky frame of Jem, picking at her teeth with a sharpened bit of bark. He'd never met them before, but everyone in the eastern half of the valley knew their names. When they'd introduced themselves, he felt honored. When they dragged him off towards the river, that honor had turned to panic. His friends had not dared do more than shout objections. None of them had ever fought anyone, let alone Masol's inner circle. Masol and his crew were inviting zenii from all over after the Lady's decree of peace. The stories of their proactive and sometimes violent ways spread like wildfire among the sedate groups happy to subsist on the Lady's gifts. Gaher wondered if he would be the next tall tale being told around the blackstones, but could no longer resist pleading for his life when Serrat cracked his knuckles. "Pl-... please! The Lady decreed… I- I haven't done anything wrong! Please stop!" There came a short snort from the woman towering over him, but his view of her was blocked when the bruised Serrat squatted down to his level. "You think we're gonna slay you? Nothing like that. I'll ask again since you weren't listening." Serrat rumbled, his lips forming a predatory smile. "How did you come upon the Beast Queen story?" Gaher remained tight-lipped, his expression a mixture of fear and incredulity. A few moments of silence was all that was needed to further draw Serrat's ire, and the scarred zenii grabbed Gaher by the neckline of his tunic, pulling him towards him and up on his feet as the bigger elf stood. It didn't last long; Serrat pulled him close and stole any purchase he'd had on the ground. "You making me repeat myself, waterhead? How did you come up with the Beast Queen?" "The-... the what?" "Too late to feign ignorance, [i]zene[/i]," Jem cut in from the side, lowering the bit of sharp bark to hound the trapped Gaher with a grin. "Lunasi told us all about how you traded your tale for food and kinship at her blackstone. Five suns ago, or so." Her words were difficult for the man to comprehend -- not because she spoke strangely, but because his attempt to look her way provoked Serrat into roughly shaking and rustling him. "O-oh… The forest s-story," Gaher murmured uncertainly and immediately got pulled even closer to the stronger zenii. His breath washed over Gahers face, stinking like refuse. "I- I didn't come up with it! It's just something I heard. Just a scary darkday tale…" He promised with a weak voice, and dared to meet the uncompromising eyes of Serrat. Before he knew what was happening, Serrat dropped his grip and pushed on his chest with firm fists. Gaher tumbled to the ground and struggled to keep air in his lungs. He heard a tongue-click signal, and before his head cooperated two hands had gripped his shoulders. The two zenii dragged the meagerly struggling Gaher closer to the river, twisting and throwing him to the riverbank close enough for droplets of cold water to leap up intermittently and coat his skin. He tried to stand but a firm knee bore down on his back, a hand gripping his tousled, dirt flecked hair. "Last chance before I let the river have you, [i]zene[/i]." Serrat rumbled from above. "There's nothing special about-" Gaher started, and felt the hand in his hair push his face towards the water. "I- I heard it from a [i]zena[/i]! It was just a st- story among all the others! She's the one you want!" He shouted instead and the threat of drowning paused. "Her name?" Serrat growled. "I don't know h- No! No, please!" Gaher begged as the start of his answer appeared to displease the man above. "Wait, wait! I really do-.. wait! I can-.... I can find her!" Much to his relief, Serrat stopped pushing. Gaher mustered the courage to continue -- anything to escape a watery grave. "I don't know her name but I remember her face. I'll find her for you!" Silence. He heard the shrug of shoulders and the resigned breath from above. The pain in his back subsided, the grip in his hair loosened. Gaher quickly scrambled away from the water, muddying his tunic further. He crawled into Jem's leg, and she swiftly shoved him in the chest when he dared look up. "Eyes at your own level, worm." She growled, and Gaher dared not do anything but comply. "You get two days to find her, Gaher," Serrat said from behind him. "Bring her to Masol's blackstone. Personal invitation for the two of you." "Don't make us come find you again. You get one chance to be useful." Jem cut in, and lashed out with her foot. Gaher took the strike and the threat with silent subservience. "It's a big valley, I suggest you get started." Serrat concluded matter-of-factly. Jem took a step closer and lifted her foot - it was all Gaher needed to crawl away in panic and then scramble to his feet, running away in mud-painted haste to fulfill his duties. Jem and Serrat stood silent by the river for a time, watching Gaher stalk the way back to his old group and presumably to try and ask around. "Thought we weren't gonna kill no one," Jem mumbled after a while, going back to picking at her teeth. "He don't know that." Serrat answered sharply and stepped away to walk downriver back towards Masol's blackstone. Jem chuckled with equal parts mirth and malice before following suit. [hr] "Synn, was it? Much has been made of your tale-telling." Serrat offered in gentle compliment, his split lip swelling to a handsome if rough smile as he took and felt Synn's arm. Synn smiled back in turn, looking at each of the zenii welcoming her to the chaotic camp that was Masol's blackstone -- technically now encompassing so many zenii that they took up three of the warming blackstones, but Masol himself was in the center. Synn glanced around but found her gaze lingering on the man who brought her, Gaher, who for some reason had been more and more nervous the closer they came. She had assumed it was the chance to meet the popular people, but even now he seemed stiff and almost fearful. She did not get time to consider it further as Serrat gripped her arm and led her further in the camp. Her last sight of the man who brought her was a woman laying her arm over Gahers shoulders and grinning at him. "You see, Synn, we would be deeply grateful if you would consider joining our little family here, and use that talented mouth for our benefit. I'm particularly taken with the tale of the Beast Queen myself." Serrat offered with a conversational and pleasant tone. Around them, zenii parted to give them space, even as they touched their shoulders or face as they passed. Walking with Serrat gave her the same treatment as he - a friend to all present, a lover and confidant, a trusted name. "Gaher did say you were very interested in that one. It's not my best tale, though. The sky snake in the clouds, however-" She responded as they walked, but Serrat raised his hand. "There will be time for you to share all your best tales, don't worry. For now I hope you will humor my curiosity. Did it happen as the tale? The Beast Queen leapt from a branch and challenged you?" "Yes, a duel of wits. Only the clever can come away from the Beast Queen alive." Synn erupted proudly. "So it went as I heard it, yes. That has been a problem for us, see. The Beast Queen spreads fear. Now zenii are worried about walking in the woods. We cannot care for all of us if some refuse to help. You understand." Serrat professed, and stopped to meet her gaze. Synn loomed around. There was no privacy here. Everywhere she looked there were three or more sets of eyes, following her expectantly. She was in a sea of faces she did not recall. "But since you have met the Queen, you can teach us how to beat her." "Oh.. you… it's just a story." Synn smiled uncertainly, wriggling her arm free from Serrats gentle grip. "No need to be modest. I'll take you to meet Masol, and you can tell him firsthand of your experiences. The Lady herself will be proud of your tutoring." He tried to grab her again but Synn quickly shook free. "No, uhm, I-.. can't." Eyes everywhere. Chattering. People whooping and clicking. Discussing her hesitancy. "I… I made it up. From something I heard. I've never been in the woods." There was a considerable reaction in the crowd, and a firm and stony expression on Serrats face. Synn considered leaving, but there was no longer a route out of the crowd. She wasn't sure which way she came from either, there were blackstones in every direction. "So the Beast Queen is fake?" Serrat asked calmly. "Well… no, that's the name I heard.. but not much more. Just something about the Queen who owns the forest. I… I made up the part about meeting her." Serrat pressed a firm grip on Synn's shoulder, sending a nervous tingle through her spine. "Thank you for being honest, Synn. I'm going to need your help, figuring out who started the story." "I've met so many zenii, I'm not… not sure I remember." She offered after a moment of hesitation. The crowd's eyes seemed less inviting each time she glanced away from Serrat. "You'll remember. To pay what you owe, for spreading fear among the people. Now, let's go meet Masol, hm?" Synn wanted to refuse, to run, but neither of those were possible. The group owned her choices now, until she had some privacy. She hoped that would come soon. [hr] [hider=Summary] Serrat and Jem have cornered a poor Gaher, and demand to know the origin of the Beast Queen story. After many threats, Gaher is enlisted to chase further down the chain of whispered stories, hunting the origins of the tale. We visit Masols camp two days later. The Beast Queen story have made some wary of scouting the woods. Gaher is press-ganged. Masols henchmen have captured a storyteller, but not the right one. No vigor spent. [/hider]