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Surgeon Cry Wolf

Lepus - The Rabbit - Brown - Powerful swordsmen from what skirmishes I have seen... Their true popularity has come later, in the bonfires light. I have never heard such bawdy stories of conquest! True or not, those nights have seen entertainment.

Weaver Memories (Link)

1:

[[Niva slaps you hard on the back, her mirth broken long enough to take a long gulp of the Unwalf wine. It never took long, especially with a brew that strong, for it to get to her cheeks and her head.

"Medicine... really?" She laughs rocking back onto the balls of her feet. "Damn shame, y'know. You'd pretty good with your sword." You have to dodge back, face heated as she makes a rather inappropriate grab, casting some doubt as to what 'weapon' she was referring to.

"It's interesting," you stammer.

"It's boring." She huffs, swinging the flask in emphasis. "You'll get boring. Aint no way to stay interesting while bein' all... THAT."

"What is that?"

"Some scholar type." She sighed, a wave back to the great university. It wasn't but three years ago you'd turned down a chance to go there for the academy, learning the sword and shield rather than the parchment and pen... Niva was a heavy influence in that at the time and you have you admit to yourself, still is... It was just hard to break free of it entirely.

"... Actually, I have no intention of schooling." She looks over at you, wine addled thoughts taking a bit to catch up. "There's nothing for me there. I thought... maybe there would be. But I know better now."

"You...?"

"I've been thinking, you kill the monster... if they're interesting enough... I'll bring them back to life."

She stares at you, mouth working like a fish out of water. Even drunk, she glances around, making sure that no one's heard. "That book you found..."

"It's a holy scripture. I could read it." Your voice rises with excitement, you can't help but pace. "I could read it and memorize it! You know what this means?"

Niva stares down at her flask and then with great deliberation takes a large gulp. "It means." She stands up, and checks her sword. "We're goin' hunting."]]

2:

[You cast your eye over your brother's set leg. He still rested at a table, as he had since the great beast had bucked him... but... In just a day, the purple skin had soothed to a dark blue... You'd never seen anything like it.

"A miracle worker, that man were."

"Ophiuchus, actually, a priest of [Surgeon]." The innkeeper answered, setting a few more of the inn's best brew on your tray. "And he weren't cheap neither. Get on back to work."

"Thank y'Sir. I know it weren't."]

New Uniform Description

Concept: Neo-Victorian villains

Top piece: High-necked vests (m), corset-style tops (f)

Bottom piece: Shorts (m), short layered skirt (f)

Outer piece: Capes

Accessory: Cravats (m), boleros (f)

Footwear: Ankle (m) or knee-high (f) boots, socks

[There is the gentle sound of a shuttle moving through taut thread, and as the memory settles deep, your eyes open to the familiar garments of your kin on both yourself and those around you, dyed in that deceptively soft hue.

Outsiders whispered, sometimes, that all who gathered under the banner of the hare were pretenders to nobility. The people themselves knew the truth; theirs was the blood of those who could rule the world or bring it to its knees—but who would bother? A single person could be more interesting than a nation combined, if they were just looked at right . . .

. . . but that was no reason to be clothed in rags. Not in a land rich in [spider] silk, not in one that bordered lands filled with the finest hands the sacred art knew. Thick brocades fashioned both the high, sleeveless tops favoured among boys, and the laced bodices found on so many of the girls; softer weaves encircled their necks, be it in the fine silk of a cravat, or the ruffled lace of a bolero. While short, layered skirts could give a far more delicate impression than knee-length shorts, both favoured freedom of movement often not realized by others until it was far, far too late.

Washes well too, that silk does.

There were always high stockings for cooler nights, and the soft, lined capes that covered the shoulders of one and all when the alley winds turned. And boots, laced high to the knee on girls, turned down at the ankle among boys, for the worst of the gutter sludge (. . . or for the grasses and stones of the city's small, hidden parks, but that was a well-kept secret no outsider need know).]

Surgeon Game

Surgeon Game Lepus Side Full Write-up (gdoc here)

Dark forest

[It is hard to tell if it is night or day where you are. The forest is dark around you, to the point where you carry a torch to see, so deeply interwoven are the branches above you and heavy the canopy above. All around, your torchlight reflects off of great draperies of webs above- the work of some great colonies of spiders intent catching the insects that buzz through the black, crooked branches. Your footfalls seem loud, over dried branches and years of dead and fallen leaves.

There is no path as you wander through the gloom, as there is no underbrush either, just thick bases of ancient trees, and the twisted adolescent trees, trying desperately to grow fast enough to see light. Around you there are a plethora of noises, the groan of old wood moving, the whistle of wind through branches, the shiver of leaves, the distant caw of birds above, and ... a snuffling noise and something pawing at the ground to the east.

You can continue on your wandering way to the north, or turn to the east and follow the sound.]

Decision point one

North

[As you continue north, your path becomes dense... the browns of the forest floor, now in contrast to the odd bone white of the tree trunks and dead branches hanging down. Above the canopy seems to let in pale blue moonlight now and then... the filter down through the leaves like beams of weak sunlight.

You hear the heavy croaking cry of a bird, and the flutter of wings as it takes alight at your passage. ... And by the overly complicated pit trap, and rope trap following it, you know you’re close to your destination.

Further north, you see a brown and black stone building break, almost suddenly from the forest.

To the west, however, you hear the howl of something nearby...]

East

[You follow after the sound. There isn’t a lot of cover as you approach, but tree to tree seems to work, and your brown clothes blends rather easily into the forest. The scraping and scratching sounds get louder...

And a small brown rabbit spots you and darts off. You almost feel sheepish for this pulling you from your quest....

Except your torchlight glints off of something gold and slides along something silver in the leaves.

Up ahead, the rabbit has stopped again, ears twitching... and begins to dig.]

[As you clear the rotted leaves, and push aside a small nest of ground spiders... a ceremonial dagger... wickedly curved and grooved... inset with rubies, wrought of silver and lined with gold... rests innocently in the dirt.]

Decision point two

Rabbit

[You follow after the rabbit! Again, the rabbit seems to spot you, crouches low, and then darts this time into a thicket of younger trees. Beyond the tightly clumped trunks, you see light pouring down where it disappeared.

Where it has dug... you see something brown and leathery.]

[You push aside leaves and see a book, cover once green, but it seems to have browned in splotches...]

[The book seems to contain amazing power... but the words shift and twist out of your line of sight. It’s enough to give you a headache staring at it...

Just as you’re about to snap the lid shut in frustration... a few lines of words seem to solidify in front of you...]

[Riddle]

Gate

[The gate doesn’t open, but a guard suddenly seems to be resting on the great hinges, picking his ear. He rests a wicked, barbed spear in one arm, and his other hand is in his pocket.]

“So... why should I letcha in?” [The man’s face breaks into a grin.] “I’m bored as all the devils.”

“Wines, treasures, giyaj, gods above an’ below, I’ll even take a meal... Heh, whatcha got in ya hands? Gimme that and we’ll call it fair, right?”

“Yeah... I mean it’s nice, but just a blade. I GOT them... lets talk somethin’ o power. Somethin’ wicked an’ interesting. That’d get me promoted out of this harpy shit post.”

Altar

[At the altar, a strange creature... it has the face of a woman, but stretches out into a crouching lizard, chained to a rock. Instead of arms, her forelimbs stretch out into massive wings, taking up almost the entire clearing with their rainbow hued plumage. Her face is a mask of rage, and though bound, she thrashes in her entrapment.]

“FREE ME!” [You hear a voice, shrieking directly in your head.]

Boss

[The harpy’s maddened thrashing seems to finally be making progress. The forest itself seems to still as if to listen to the metallic snap and clang of each of the chains snapping.

Her wings beat, and she rises into the air... Her form is half covered in feathers, half twisted into a dragon’s tail and birds claws. Bathed in moonlight she gives you an awful smile... and begins to sing. Your head aches and throbs.]