Rance made no attempt to hide his rage and Jigano couldn't blame him for it. All he could do was offer the knowledge that had been requested, and hope the raven wasn't the type to blame the messenger. Outwardly the bard was calm and collected as he set the tea beside the other man and took his own seat so they could talk on the same level, but inwardly he was wary, waiting to see if Rance would explode at him or turn his anger elsewhere.
Commiseration was unexpected but appreciated, and Jigano nodded as he warmed his hands on his own mug. "There was no right answer," he agreed quietly. "We assume the Old Gods made a difficult choice, forced by circumstance to use a hammer rather than a scalpel, but in truth... we don't know the specifics. What we do know is that they locked their heralds, lesser gods of their own substance and prior creation, in the barrier as well, to aid and succor the mortals... and to keep the Voice from escaping."
He listened with open fascination, and a flickered glance and silent request sent Isuma chirruping agreement and fluttering back to the table to nudge the quill over onto a clean piece of paper. He urged it to begin writing, and he channeled Rance's words through his ears and to the magical quill, which wrote down the raven's gods for later inventory and cross-checking against the journals of previous Outlanders. When the new Outlander finished Jigano sat back, smiling ruefully as the Quill paused and then drifted down to rest again.
"The Old Gods are like that, here. Vi, Mort, and Rae. They intervene, but rarely. Those heralds I mentioned, though? You're bound to meet one or another of them sooner or later. They tend to take a more personal interest in prayers. Not every prayer, thankfully, but far more than I could have dreamed of two years ago. Your Ghost Queen, in fact, sounds a little like Ludo... that's Mort's herald. Ludo guides the souls of the dead to Mort's domain, and this is its season, so to speak. In a few weeks we'll have a Festival of Lights in its honor, and to honor the memories of our dead." He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of sadness passing over his face at just how many dead he had to count this year. "We all fashion lanterns in honor of those who have passed - Outlander, Natural, it doesn't matter. You can honor family and friends from your world, too. Then, at the Festival, we hang them and hold a mass memorial for them all... and Ludo will chose one lantern among the many. For that one person, they are allowed to see the spirits of their loved ones again for a brief time." He smiled sadly, sipping his own tea.
"I need to make mine still for this year, since there have been more to add since last year's Festival."
Commiseration was unexpected but appreciated, and Jigano nodded as he warmed his hands on his own mug. "There was no right answer," he agreed quietly. "We assume the Old Gods made a difficult choice, forced by circumstance to use a hammer rather than a scalpel, but in truth... we don't know the specifics. What we do know is that they locked their heralds, lesser gods of their own substance and prior creation, in the barrier as well, to aid and succor the mortals... and to keep the Voice from escaping."
He listened with open fascination, and a flickered glance and silent request sent Isuma chirruping agreement and fluttering back to the table to nudge the quill over onto a clean piece of paper. He urged it to begin writing, and he channeled Rance's words through his ears and to the magical quill, which wrote down the raven's gods for later inventory and cross-checking against the journals of previous Outlanders. When the new Outlander finished Jigano sat back, smiling ruefully as the Quill paused and then drifted down to rest again.
"The Old Gods are like that, here. Vi, Mort, and Rae. They intervene, but rarely. Those heralds I mentioned, though? You're bound to meet one or another of them sooner or later. They tend to take a more personal interest in prayers. Not every prayer, thankfully, but far more than I could have dreamed of two years ago. Your Ghost Queen, in fact, sounds a little like Ludo... that's Mort's herald. Ludo guides the souls of the dead to Mort's domain, and this is its season, so to speak. In a few weeks we'll have a Festival of Lights in its honor, and to honor the memories of our dead." He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of sadness passing over his face at just how many dead he had to count this year. "We all fashion lanterns in honor of those who have passed - Outlander, Natural, it doesn't matter. You can honor family and friends from your world, too. Then, at the Festival, we hang them and hold a mass memorial for them all... and Ludo will chose one lantern among the many. For that one person, they are allowed to see the spirits of their loved ones again for a brief time." He smiled sadly, sipping his own tea.
"I need to make mine still for this year, since there have been more to add since last year's Festival."
