Sharee held her hand up at the pair. "I can assure you I don't intend to punish either of you. Unless of course Allaina comes to me later and tells me she didn't like whatever you two did when you left last night. In that case, I would be obligated to kill Serge, but barring that, you two are fine for now. Just stop all the saluting and stuff, it annoys me. Just stick with calling me captain and that'll be enough."
Sarel, Serge, and the Orc had arrived thusfar, so there weren't many more to go. She supposed there had been a lot of drinking the previous night, so there might be some delays getting everyone together again. Sharee herself was only really functioning because of the hangover cures she made for herself. She would be lying if she didn't admit that they were one of the biggest perks of being an alchemist. In order to avoid sitting around and staring at each other silently, Sharee decided to give a bit of a briefing to the three about why she called them up. "Anyway, as I'm sure you're aware, there are plenty of people on this ship. The sailors are mostly situated, but you might have noticed that there are a distinct lack of officers right now. I intend to remedy that. I've called those who I believe are fit for the job, we're just waiting on a few more. "
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Actually, sent you a PM.
The New Yorker said
I have a half written post here, EC. Could you send me an Allaina response or something so I know what happened between her and Serge?
Just PM me with what you have, then.
Thorantilth returned Sabine's nod. "Very well, then I must begin preparations. I will send someone to find you when your first trial is ready." He said before leaving back in the direction of the Hist tree. Once the Treeminder left, Reanaseer stepped forward once more, looking at least mostly in the direction of Sabine.
"I am not an expert on the rituals of the Hist in the way that Thorantilth is, but I know the path ahead of you is not an easy one. If your intentions are...genuine, then I wish you luck. Until then, you are our guests. The...common quarters in the largest of the huts will be open to you, and we will share the bounties of our hunts. In return, we expect you to follow our rules and customs. If you are unsure of those rules, you may ask. We would also expect that you...reciprocate our aid to you in whatever way is reasonable. From me, personally, I just ask that you not prove Zharanthixil correct; I would never hear the end of it if you did." Reanaseer explained with a slight grin crossing her face. "Now, you are my guests, but I know nothing about you. Tell me about yourselves, I insist."
Even if Reanaseer had accepted them as guests, the hunters did not let down their guard. Their eyes were always watching, waiting for signs of treachery. The other villagers, however, seemed to give a mixed, but overall less-hostile response. Most likely could not understand the current conversation, but with how the Elder was speaking to them, most seemed to relax. Some still looked at the pack with suspicion, but others seemed to be simply curious. A few members of the crowd that had gathered drew even closer to the pack to get a better look at them. Some even appeared like they wanted to talk to them, even if the language barrier would prevent that. The hatchlings were especially curious, but the adults around them prevented them from getting too close.
"I am not an expert on the rituals of the Hist in the way that Thorantilth is, but I know the path ahead of you is not an easy one. If your intentions are...genuine, then I wish you luck. Until then, you are our guests. The...common quarters in the largest of the huts will be open to you, and we will share the bounties of our hunts. In return, we expect you to follow our rules and customs. If you are unsure of those rules, you may ask. We would also expect that you...reciprocate our aid to you in whatever way is reasonable. From me, personally, I just ask that you not prove Zharanthixil correct; I would never hear the end of it if you did." Reanaseer explained with a slight grin crossing her face. "Now, you are my guests, but I know nothing about you. Tell me about yourselves, I insist."
Even if Reanaseer had accepted them as guests, the hunters did not let down their guard. Their eyes were always watching, waiting for signs of treachery. The other villagers, however, seemed to give a mixed, but overall less-hostile response. Most likely could not understand the current conversation, but with how the Elder was speaking to them, most seemed to relax. Some still looked at the pack with suspicion, but others seemed to be simply curious. A few members of the crowd that had gathered drew even closer to the pack to get a better look at them. Some even appeared like they wanted to talk to them, even if the language barrier would prevent that. The hatchlings were especially curious, but the adults around them prevented them from getting too close.
Reanaseer gave a chuckle. "Well, I would certainly hope not. I haven't seen a fight in about five years, with Zharanthixil's diligence. I hope to meet the end of my life without seeing another.
Fortunately, it was not too much longer before Treeminder Thorantilth, a middle-aged Argonian male, arrived from the direction of the Hist tree. Unlike the other two leaders, his clothing was a simple loincloth, but his tattoos were much more extensive and intricate. His scales were tan in color, though many were covered by the tattoos. On his head were a pair of sizable fins, and his eyes were a deep shade of green. He approached as if he had been in a hurry, despite the delay. "I apologize for the delay, I came as soon as I could. I was told that strangers arrived wishing to commune with the Hist; I assume this is them?"
Reanaseer nodded, prompting Thorantilth to walk up to the pack. He looked over the group with a bit of suspicion in his eyes, though not nearly as much as Zharanthixil or his hunters. "I warn you. Speaking with Hist is not a easy...thing. My purpose is protection of our Hist, and we do not accept threats to it. They may yet speak to you, though. That is solely their will. Is it you who wants to commune with them?" He asked in Cyrodilic, looking at Meesei. His Cyrodilic was not nearly as polished or practiced as Reanaseer's, but it conveyed his meaning well enough.
"Not precisely." Meesei answered in Jel, since the Treeminder did not appear comfortable in Cyrodilic. She stepped over to Sabine and put her arm around her shoulder. "She is a person with a scarred soul and traumatic past, and a loving girl who does not deserve the pain she feels. I wish to put her through the ritual of binding. I am familiar with the preparation and effort required, so I offer to do all you will allow me to help."
Thorantilth's interest was certainly piqued by Meesei's explanation. He looked down at Sabine, this time with more curiosity than suspicion. "The ritual of binding? Few, even among the Saxhleel, even know of the ritual, let alone how to practice it. You speak as one raised and educated in our traditions."
Meesei nodded. "From my hatching, I was raised as Treeminder of my clan. I took on the role for a time, but my path down the river unavoidably led me elsewhere. I left the clan in the hands of my capable successor so that I could continue on my path."
"Hmm, for a Treeminder to abandon her role is an exceptional event, but it is not my place to judge the worthiness of your cause. As for your purpose here, though...the ritual of binding will not serve her in the same way as it would a Saxhleel. No matter how often or deeply a Human communes with the Hist, they can never become connected to the Hist in the way we are. Thorantilth responded.
Meesei shook her head and looked up to the village's Hist tree. "I have no intention of attempting to bind her to the Hist. I merely want to connect her mind to theirs, to let them sense her soul and judge if she is worthy to have the burden she bears lifted from her shoulders. The effect of the binding need not remain permanent.
Thorantilth crossed his arms and let out a sigh. He was obviously in deep thought, and quite conflicted about the situation. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long for an answer, this time in Cyrodilic. "I can not deny your request. I can help with ritual of binding, but it takes much preparation. There are tests she must go through to judge readiness. It may take days. Are you sure you want to begin this?" The Treeminder asked, this time looking at Sabine.
Fortunately, it was not too much longer before Treeminder Thorantilth, a middle-aged Argonian male, arrived from the direction of the Hist tree. Unlike the other two leaders, his clothing was a simple loincloth, but his tattoos were much more extensive and intricate. His scales were tan in color, though many were covered by the tattoos. On his head were a pair of sizable fins, and his eyes were a deep shade of green. He approached as if he had been in a hurry, despite the delay. "I apologize for the delay, I came as soon as I could. I was told that strangers arrived wishing to commune with the Hist; I assume this is them?"
Reanaseer nodded, prompting Thorantilth to walk up to the pack. He looked over the group with a bit of suspicion in his eyes, though not nearly as much as Zharanthixil or his hunters. "I warn you. Speaking with Hist is not a easy...thing. My purpose is protection of our Hist, and we do not accept threats to it. They may yet speak to you, though. That is solely their will. Is it you who wants to commune with them?" He asked in Cyrodilic, looking at Meesei. His Cyrodilic was not nearly as polished or practiced as Reanaseer's, but it conveyed his meaning well enough.
"Not precisely." Meesei answered in Jel, since the Treeminder did not appear comfortable in Cyrodilic. She stepped over to Sabine and put her arm around her shoulder. "She is a person with a scarred soul and traumatic past, and a loving girl who does not deserve the pain she feels. I wish to put her through the ritual of binding. I am familiar with the preparation and effort required, so I offer to do all you will allow me to help."
Thorantilth's interest was certainly piqued by Meesei's explanation. He looked down at Sabine, this time with more curiosity than suspicion. "The ritual of binding? Few, even among the Saxhleel, even know of the ritual, let alone how to practice it. You speak as one raised and educated in our traditions."
Meesei nodded. "From my hatching, I was raised as Treeminder of my clan. I took on the role for a time, but my path down the river unavoidably led me elsewhere. I left the clan in the hands of my capable successor so that I could continue on my path."
"Hmm, for a Treeminder to abandon her role is an exceptional event, but it is not my place to judge the worthiness of your cause. As for your purpose here, though...the ritual of binding will not serve her in the same way as it would a Saxhleel. No matter how often or deeply a Human communes with the Hist, they can never become connected to the Hist in the way we are. Thorantilth responded.
Meesei shook her head and looked up to the village's Hist tree. "I have no intention of attempting to bind her to the Hist. I merely want to connect her mind to theirs, to let them sense her soul and judge if she is worthy to have the burden she bears lifted from her shoulders. The effect of the binding need not remain permanent.
Thorantilth crossed his arms and let out a sigh. He was obviously in deep thought, and quite conflicted about the situation. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long for an answer, this time in Cyrodilic. "I can not deny your request. I can help with ritual of binding, but it takes much preparation. There are tests she must go through to judge readiness. It may take days. Are you sure you want to begin this?" The Treeminder asked, this time looking at Sabine.
The Elder could easily sense the tension in the air, not just because of the awkward silence, but because of the scents in the air. Certain scents people produced coincided with certain emotions, and despite her age, or perhaps because of it, she was quite adept at picking them out. "Do not...begrudge Zharanthixil in his ways. The young and impatient are apt to take their convictions to extremes, but he trains his...hunters the way he feels will keep us the safest. He does not...trust you, he will not trust you, and that is the way it should be." She explained. She seemed to have a solid understanding of Cyrodilic, even if she had to stop at times to think of her next word.
The Elder began to pace around the pack slowly, using a walking stick to support her. It was easy to tell that her clothing was meant to appear more elaborate than normal, but the pieces of the makeshift robe appeared worn and old, much like their wearer. Since she could not see, perhaps she simply no longer cared about her appearance. Given that some patches of her scales were so translucent that one could see the muscle fibers underneath, she might not have cared about her appearance even if she had her sight. "Maybe you are aware that some outsiders still wander the marsh...intending to bring harm to us? Some of our youth might like to believe that these marauding bands of slavers and criminals are just like the Dunmer raiding parties of old, but I know better. I know enough of the outside to know it is a thing of the...past, at least as far as our sight can see. There are still some, though, who seek to subjugate us in the name of...profit, or tradition. So, we are vigilant. Zharanthixil is the worst, and greatest among us. He is our greatest protector, the one who keeps us safe, and the one who trains our future generations in the ways that keep us alive through the hazards we face. He is cursed and blessed with the impatience and resolution of his youth. Me...I am Reanaseer, an old woman the village has decided they want to listen to."
The Elder began to pace around the pack slowly, using a walking stick to support her. It was easy to tell that her clothing was meant to appear more elaborate than normal, but the pieces of the makeshift robe appeared worn and old, much like their wearer. Since she could not see, perhaps she simply no longer cared about her appearance. Given that some patches of her scales were so translucent that one could see the muscle fibers underneath, she might not have cared about her appearance even if she had her sight. "Maybe you are aware that some outsiders still wander the marsh...intending to bring harm to us? Some of our youth might like to believe that these marauding bands of slavers and criminals are just like the Dunmer raiding parties of old, but I know better. I know enough of the outside to know it is a thing of the...past, at least as far as our sight can see. There are still some, though, who seek to subjugate us in the name of...profit, or tradition. So, we are vigilant. Zharanthixil is the worst, and greatest among us. He is our greatest protector, the one who keeps us safe, and the one who trains our future generations in the ways that keep us alive through the hazards we face. He is cursed and blessed with the impatience and resolution of his youth. Me...I am Reanaseer, an old woman the village has decided they want to listen to."
The Master-Hunter did not seem to like Janius' stare, but he likely would not have approved of anything Janius did. The air was tense for the few minutes that they had to wait for any of the tribe's other leaders to arrive. When the Elder finally emerged from her hut, the Master-Hunter walked away from Janius, muttering
Waxhuthil" under his breath.
The Elder, true to her title, was a very old Argonian woman. Her scales had lost their color long ago, and were now to the point that they were nearly translucent. Her feathers had fallen out of her head, leaving her with only a few small horns above each eye, and by the way she moved, it seemed like a feat that she was even walking unaided. Her eyes were completely covered with a milky-blue film, indicating that she was quite blind. Nevertheless, she did not seem to have any trouble finding her way around. As soon as she was at the base of the mud ramp to her hut, she took a few sniffs of the air and looked in the direction of the pack. "I can smell the anger in the air, the fear. I see you have done a fine job of making our guests uncomfortable, Zharanthixil." She said, the sarcasm evident in her tone.
"They are not guests, Elder, they are outsiders. They have come seeking our Hist tree. Who knows what harm they might intend to bring? From the very beginnings of Nirn, outsiders have caused nothing but harm for our people. Even if they are not lying, I do not think the Hist would want to commune with-" Master-Hunter Zharanthixil began, only to be interrupted by the Elder.
"You are not of the same mind as the Hist, Zharan, do not attempt to speak for them. The Hist have communed with outsiders before, and it is not our place to say if they will do so again. Be cautious of your words, young one. The Hist call for us to be cautious, but they do not call for us to hate. Your words skirt the line between concern and anger. Do not fall into the trap of hatred, young hunter, it has no place in our home. Please, meditate on this. I insist." The old Argonian chided.
"Of course, Elder. My hunters will keep you safe." Zharanthixil responded in a polite, but forced tone. He was clearly unconvinced and still regarded the pack suspiciously, but nevertheless, he returned to his hut.
With the Master-Hunter gone, the Elder turned her head to face the pack, even if she could not actually see them. She took a few more sniffs of the air to take in the scents of their visitors, then spoke up in slow, heavily-accented, but clear Cyrodilic. "Treeminder Thorantilth will arrive soon. I welcome you to our home. Our hunters will not harm you if you maintain respect for the Hist and their people." She explained. Even so, the suspicious glares of the hunters around them did not subside.
Waxhuthil" under his breath.
The Elder, true to her title, was a very old Argonian woman. Her scales had lost their color long ago, and were now to the point that they were nearly translucent. Her feathers had fallen out of her head, leaving her with only a few small horns above each eye, and by the way she moved, it seemed like a feat that she was even walking unaided. Her eyes were completely covered with a milky-blue film, indicating that she was quite blind. Nevertheless, she did not seem to have any trouble finding her way around. As soon as she was at the base of the mud ramp to her hut, she took a few sniffs of the air and looked in the direction of the pack. "I can smell the anger in the air, the fear. I see you have done a fine job of making our guests uncomfortable, Zharanthixil." She said, the sarcasm evident in her tone.
"They are not guests, Elder, they are outsiders. They have come seeking our Hist tree. Who knows what harm they might intend to bring? From the very beginnings of Nirn, outsiders have caused nothing but harm for our people. Even if they are not lying, I do not think the Hist would want to commune with-" Master-Hunter Zharanthixil began, only to be interrupted by the Elder.
"You are not of the same mind as the Hist, Zharan, do not attempt to speak for them. The Hist have communed with outsiders before, and it is not our place to say if they will do so again. Be cautious of your words, young one. The Hist call for us to be cautious, but they do not call for us to hate. Your words skirt the line between concern and anger. Do not fall into the trap of hatred, young hunter, it has no place in our home. Please, meditate on this. I insist." The old Argonian chided.
"Of course, Elder. My hunters will keep you safe." Zharanthixil responded in a polite, but forced tone. He was clearly unconvinced and still regarded the pack suspiciously, but nevertheless, he returned to his hut.
With the Master-Hunter gone, the Elder turned her head to face the pack, even if she could not actually see them. She took a few more sniffs of the air to take in the scents of their visitors, then spoke up in slow, heavily-accented, but clear Cyrodilic. "Treeminder Thorantilth will arrive soon. I welcome you to our home. Our hunters will not harm you if you maintain respect for the Hist and their people." She explained. Even so, the suspicious glares of the hunters around them did not subside.
Lorag was the most hesitant to give up his weapons, but as the Alpha had ordered it, he still parted with them willingly. Meesei seemed quite calm, but most of the rest of the pack appeared to be on-edge, understandably. She knew the others would not be comfortable heading into a village with people who had, thusfar, only been outwardly aggressive, but she also knew of the customs and traditions of her people. As long as they remained respectful and non-hostile, there would be no way the villagers would consider harming them.
"I am confident that I understand my people's customs. Remain respectful and we will be safe." Meesei answered to Fendros just as they stepped into the village. Unlike the towns and cities, all of the structures in a village such as this were designed to be temporary, lasting only a season at most. Their huts were made from compacted mud and clay that, while surprisingly sturdy for being what they were, would be easy to tear down and rebuild. There were some decorations and small idols, mostly in the style of the ancient Argonian civilization, but the majority of the village was plain and functional. The most prominent feature of the village was of course the Hist tree at its center, which, while not as large as the tree in Thorn, shared the same purpose. Sap had dripped from the tree, pooling at its base and surrounding the nests that contained the village's next generation.
The hunter Meesei was speaking to had sent a runner ahead to alert the village, so there was already a collection of armed Argonians waiting to greet them. They did not act aggressively, but they certainly stared down the group distrustfully. One hunter in particular, a dark green male with quite a few smaller horns on his head, was quite heavily ornamented with bone jewelry, tattoos, and piercings. The hunter who had guided the pack to the village bowed his head slightly as he stood before him. "Master-Hunter, these are the strangers. They disarmed willingly when asked, and the Saxhleel among them appears educated in our ways."
The Master-Hunter nodded and motioned for the hunter to be on his way, then stepped forward towards the pack and looked at Meesei. "Wait here for the Elder and Treeminder," He ordered before he started pacing around the group, sizing up each one in turn. Strangely, while many of the hunters tended to stare more at Fendros, the Master-Hunter seemed to look at Janius with the most distrust. He stood beside him carefully observing his features, but not saying a word.
"I am confident that I understand my people's customs. Remain respectful and we will be safe." Meesei answered to Fendros just as they stepped into the village. Unlike the towns and cities, all of the structures in a village such as this were designed to be temporary, lasting only a season at most. Their huts were made from compacted mud and clay that, while surprisingly sturdy for being what they were, would be easy to tear down and rebuild. There were some decorations and small idols, mostly in the style of the ancient Argonian civilization, but the majority of the village was plain and functional. The most prominent feature of the village was of course the Hist tree at its center, which, while not as large as the tree in Thorn, shared the same purpose. Sap had dripped from the tree, pooling at its base and surrounding the nests that contained the village's next generation.
The hunter Meesei was speaking to had sent a runner ahead to alert the village, so there was already a collection of armed Argonians waiting to greet them. They did not act aggressively, but they certainly stared down the group distrustfully. One hunter in particular, a dark green male with quite a few smaller horns on his head, was quite heavily ornamented with bone jewelry, tattoos, and piercings. The hunter who had guided the pack to the village bowed his head slightly as he stood before him. "Master-Hunter, these are the strangers. They disarmed willingly when asked, and the Saxhleel among them appears educated in our ways."
The Master-Hunter nodded and motioned for the hunter to be on his way, then stepped forward towards the pack and looked at Meesei. "Wait here for the Elder and Treeminder," He ordered before he started pacing around the group, sizing up each one in turn. Strangely, while many of the hunters tended to stare more at Fendros, the Master-Hunter seemed to look at Janius with the most distrust. He stood beside him carefully observing his features, but not saying a word.
Meesei looked over and nodded to Janius. "We are unknown to them, and since we are approaching their home, they will be observing until we get too close to the village. Actually, they are likely going to confront us soon. I would wager that they have been watching us for longer than we have been noticing them. Just do nothing aggressive and allow me to talk to them. They will probably be distrustful and intentionally intimidating, but they will not murder travelers without a reasonable cause. In a village such as this, the only people who will have any knowledge of Cyrodilic would be the leaders of the clan, and perhaps a trader or two."
Just as Meesei predicted, after a few more minutes of walking, the hunters pursuing them finally revealed themselves. They emerged from the marshes on all sides of them, armed with spears and bows. In contrast to other Argonians they had met, their attire was tribal in nature. Normally, the pack would need to wear their city clothes to blend in with a settlement, but in this case, their clothing was very similar to the pack's. In fact, the hunters seemed to be even more heavily ornamented with bone jewelry, war paint, and tattoos. A black-scaled Argonian male was the first to speak, while the others kept a sharp eye on the pack. As the only Argonian in the group, the man naturally spoke to Meesei first.
"You are approaching our home. Unless you have a good reason to be here, we would like you to leave us in peace." The Argonian said in a somewhat forceful tone.
Meesei bowed her head slightly and closed her eyes while clasping together her hands. "Peace, egg-brother. We approach with only the greatest respect. We seek to give reverence to the Hist and to bask in their wisdom. I search for a tree that gives freely of the sap which gives us life. Does your home have what we seek?" Meesei asked. Her tone was polite, but it was likely her accent which gave her words the most credibility. As she was raised in a village similar to that of these hunters, her accent was comparable to theirs, letting them know that she was a native of the marsh just as they were.
The Argonian hunter gave a slight grunt and looked over the rest of the group suspiciously. It was easy to tell that he was not comfortable, but Meesei's words had caused him to take notice. "You bring outsiders to our home to seek the Hist? I do not like this. I fear that, intentional or no, you may only bring harm to my home, but our customs do not allow me to deny you. Only our Treeminder may decide if we will honor your...request. I can, however, demand that you turn over your weapons as a condition of being allowed to enter our village. My home is a place of peace, and I will not have it disturbed. We will return them to you when you leave."
[i]"Of course. Meesei answered before looking back to her pack. "They will allow us to enter, but first you must turn over your weapons to them. Do not attempt to hide them, just give them without protest. They will not harm us, and they will return the weapons when we leave." She explained as a few of the hunters stepped forward cautiously to collect the weapons.
Just as Meesei predicted, after a few more minutes of walking, the hunters pursuing them finally revealed themselves. They emerged from the marshes on all sides of them, armed with spears and bows. In contrast to other Argonians they had met, their attire was tribal in nature. Normally, the pack would need to wear their city clothes to blend in with a settlement, but in this case, their clothing was very similar to the pack's. In fact, the hunters seemed to be even more heavily ornamented with bone jewelry, war paint, and tattoos. A black-scaled Argonian male was the first to speak, while the others kept a sharp eye on the pack. As the only Argonian in the group, the man naturally spoke to Meesei first.
"You are approaching our home. Unless you have a good reason to be here, we would like you to leave us in peace." The Argonian said in a somewhat forceful tone.
Meesei bowed her head slightly and closed her eyes while clasping together her hands. "Peace, egg-brother. We approach with only the greatest respect. We seek to give reverence to the Hist and to bask in their wisdom. I search for a tree that gives freely of the sap which gives us life. Does your home have what we seek?" Meesei asked. Her tone was polite, but it was likely her accent which gave her words the most credibility. As she was raised in a village similar to that of these hunters, her accent was comparable to theirs, letting them know that she was a native of the marsh just as they were.
The Argonian hunter gave a slight grunt and looked over the rest of the group suspiciously. It was easy to tell that he was not comfortable, but Meesei's words had caused him to take notice. "You bring outsiders to our home to seek the Hist? I do not like this. I fear that, intentional or no, you may only bring harm to my home, but our customs do not allow me to deny you. Only our Treeminder may decide if we will honor your...request. I can, however, demand that you turn over your weapons as a condition of being allowed to enter our village. My home is a place of peace, and I will not have it disturbed. We will return them to you when you leave."
[i]"Of course. Meesei answered before looking back to her pack. "They will allow us to enter, but first you must turn over your weapons to them. Do not attempt to hide them, just give them without protest. They will not harm us, and they will return the weapons when we leave." She explained as a few of the hunters stepped forward cautiously to collect the weapons.
Meesei nodded in agreement, then motioned for everyone to follow her out of the town as she began to speak. "I agree, it is something I have been thinking about. From all I have learned, it is more difficult than laying an egg. However, I doubt the village we will be going to will be of any help, nor would this town, for that matter. There might be a few non-Argonians here, but the majority of the population is still Argonian. Our next best option would be to go to a city before it happens. I would say we might return to Thorn, but this village is even farther to the west. By that point, we will be too far from Thorn for it to be practical for us to return. The closest city will be...Stormhold, I believe."
Once they were far enough from the town, Meesei continued on her next point. "There is also the matter of the full moons to contend with, however. We absolutely cannot be in a city when that happens, and unfortunately, it is a possibility she could deliver the child on that day. Ideally, we will be able to return to Stormhold before it happens so a professional can help Ahnasha, but to be safe, we can attempt to learn the required knowledge beforehand, if we can even find someone willing to teach us. I admit, it is a plan with many unknowns, but it is the best we have."
Once they were far enough from the town, Meesei continued on her next point. "There is also the matter of the full moons to contend with, however. We absolutely cannot be in a city when that happens, and unfortunately, it is a possibility she could deliver the child on that day. Ideally, we will be able to return to Stormhold before it happens so a professional can help Ahnasha, but to be safe, we can attempt to learn the required knowledge beforehand, if we can even find someone willing to teach us. I admit, it is a plan with many unknowns, but it is the best we have."
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