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Sojaveña Wilds Escarpa Clan Camp

Jackie Cat

A cat who writes stories.
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they or she
A real warrior could live anywhere. Being tied to one place was for farmhands.

The Escarpa moved about – seasonally for better weather or environmental conditions, or for a temporary necessity. Still, each camp was made with the same tents, by the same clan members. Large tents tended to make up the centre of a camp – stone, clay or wood dwellings were impractical, unless lodging with settled 'civilians' with permanent dwellings. Escarpa tents were typically made of hemp canvas, and had four to six sides apiece and broad ceilings from which hung bundles of supplies and hammocks for arboreal or avian clanners. Smoke flaps opened at the centrepoints to allow for fireplaces inside. Despite their reputation for stoicism and spartan tastes, many tent walls were painted in intricate detail, in bright blues, reds, and amber hues. Smaller tents encircled the communal tents, each serving a functional purpose, or housing a clanner or couple who preferred to have some privacy.

Though warriors might sleep, the clan never slept – at any time of day or night, there would be scouts on the move, warriors keeping watch, auxiliaries and village representatives visiting for any number of reasons. Always there would be intense but focused movement, confident and without alarm. Some 'mon would be cooking fish over open coals, single-mindedly crafting tools, or making purposeful conversation with their comrades. Camp tended to be quiet – a good warrior held their tongue in company, and a strong warrior need only speak softly if they were respected. Apart from wildlife, and outside of scheduled festivities, the most raucous noise in camp was from children – Escarpa young or initiates from Soja' villages, who were expected to play and jostle as infants and adolescents are wont to.

A significant number of prominent Escarpa were, famously, of the Shinx line. From glancing at a camp, Luxio were clearly the most common Escarpa species, the ancient Luxray pride of the Soja' having massively influenced clan affairs for generations. Typically, these would wear only the barest adornment to prove their sapience, such as a rope anklet or gem-set ear piercing. Other clanners were of many other species, with predators being more common than not – raptors, canines, and reptiles, for instance. Regardless of their kind, all wore the dust of the Soja' on their backs and emanated a clear strength that town 'mon rarely did.

Outsiders weren't unwelcome, if they could find the seasonal camp unaided, or had good reason to be brought there. If it was hard enough to make one's way there, however, it was harder to make an outstanding impression on the famously taciturn Escarpa Clan.

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[Ch03] ~ Finale ~ The Warpath Ahead
Halcón and Pyrrin were true to their word. Not two hours after their first encounter with the Wayfarers, they had arrived at the edge of town, met with those Wayfarers who cared to follow them to the current main camp, and moved off with minimal jaw-wagging.

The Escarpa tents were currently nestled between the Silver River and a large rock formation that screened it from outside view. A Pidgeotto watch 'mon alerted the clan of the approaching outsiders before the camp even came into view, and when the Wayfarers finally caught sight of it, they saw also that a gaggle of curious youths were gawping at their arrival from a distance at the tent perimeter.

"Mind yourselves, Wayfarers," purred Halcón, echoing an earlier warning for emphasis. "I won't repeat this advice. Do not babble, or simper, or say anything unconsidered. Some might call me a particularly loose-tongued clan 'mon, and not be lying! The rest of my clan have very little tolerance for nonsense, and we do not bow and curtsy like townsfolk. So when you speak, make your points well and be done with it."
 
Ghaspius floated along grateful that he wasn't too late this time around. He gave a meek smile to the other Wayfarers having misinterpreted and relayed the wrong message from the Murkrow earlier. His muttering of apologies was quickly shut down by Halcón's words as he gazed around the various colorful tents.

"Bit terse, but alright, I'll respect what y'all have goin'. No extra words. Except those," he said as he adjusted his scarf. "Or those. Or the ones after. Or..." The airhead shook himself before he ended up distracting himself into a loop again.
 
"I won't repeat this advice. Do not babble, or simper, or say anything unconsidered. Some might call me a particularly loose-tongued clan 'mon, and not be lying! The rest of my clan have very little tolerance for nonsense, and we do not bow and curtsy like townsfolk. So when you speak, make your points well and be done with it."

Kimiko looked around the camp with growing apprehension. This was it, this was the meeting she'd been looking for. But now that it was here, now that she'd heard Halcón's recount of their history, now that they had the clan's children ogling their arrival... she felt a knot in her gut.

She took note of Halcón's advice, self-consciously aware that at least one part of it was almost assuredly intended for her alone. She of course had only meant it as a show of respect, but they were on the clan's turf now, and it sounded as though Halcón cautioned them against displaying any outside behavior, regardless of intent. "Understood," she said. There, nice and simple, no extra bloat.
 
It had been just Prim's luck to miss the first rendezvous with the barbarian wanderswords—she'd been hoping to meet them for some time, now, and the closest she'd gotten was a peek at what she thought might have been a scout while she was out in the country wrangling. A rustle of the sagebrush and perhaps a lashing of the tail, nothing more. It might have been a wild mon, even, only she always heard the wild mon coming. To tread silently took great care and practice, and to the last mon the denizens of Frontier Town walked like they had lead in their boots.

But she had made it to this meeting. And she was glad for that. She heard the ghost's nervous rambling and saw the apprehension written on the snivy's face and she understood their anxiety, but the site of this settlement made her feel something else. Tipis on the river, the rush of clear water, the smoke-sugar-must aroma of coal-roasting meat and berries, the sounds of clanfolk stoking hearths, gathering kindling, speaking tersely—this kind of place had not been her home, but it was familiar to her. Away from the cobble trails of Kalos, where few men tread, she had rested her head more often in the dwellings of mon than she had in the human towns and cities.

Finally, a comfort in this world of discomforts.

"Fine," she said to Halcón, perhaps softly enough that he wouldn't hear. And it was. A place where rattling off every insipid thought that entered your skull was looked down on? That suited her just perfect.
 
Pyrrin's tail flicked but he gave a nod towards Halcón. "You won't have many words to spare. Use them wisely. Now, have any of you brought your proof of Brisa's trust?"

Bellatrix tailed behind the others. She had missed the encounter with the Escarpa scouts and hearing how it went was more than enough of an incentive to come along to avoid a repeat. At Pyrrin's question, the zorua looked at the others expectantly. Words costed time. If the Escarpa looked down on wasting words, then surely they would not appreciate the same for wasting time. At least, that was what Bellatrix reasoned.
 
Jade took a deep breath. Alright, they were finally here. Time to meet with the Escarpa. The circumstances were a lot different from how she'd always imagined it, but this was still an opportunity.

"Right, yeah, I've got it," she said, holding the blue feather earring up, fighting to keep her tail steady and her fur relaxed as she did.
 
To the luxio's words, Andre nodded. He would have to dial down the pleasantries and stick to the meat of things. Not speak unless it had purpose.

He sighed to himself. The situation seemed highly volatile. The Escarpa's patience had been worn thin, and Andre couldn't disagree with the way they felt. Gods knew that settlers had dealt with natives in appalling ways back in his homeworld. Still, sabotaging the rail would only bring about a worse conflict. Luckily, Dave had been talking about halting the rail, something that the settlers would surely have much less of a problem with than actual damage, and working together to contain the shadows. Perhaps diplomacy would win here, and perhaps cooperation would ease the strenuous ties between the Escarpa and the settlers. Still, it seemed a bit like wishful thinking.
 
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Felin kept herself inconspicuous behind the group as though she were merely a shadow trailing behind everyone else. She'd be caught tapping her boot on the group or grooming her forearm often.

As much as she disliked being in the background, there was no other role for her to play here. Her arena was not the negotiations table, but the battlefield, trading blows with claw and fang.

So, did the Felin Boots remain invisible. She rooted for the other fighters who knew how to battle with the might of their words and not their swords.
 
'Don't waste words.' There was a saying for that back home. Isidora was sure to keep to herself, focusing instead on controlling her temperature with careful pants and icy claws. She kept her hat skewed even and tried to project the confidence she remembered once having. There was the distinct and familiar feeling that these were not the kinds of 'mon to show weakness around.

The conflict at hand was something she could empathize with (or maybe not empathize, but at least understand, given its vague similarity to another conflict she knew too much about). That said, she was never really one for big ideas or solutions. Her main concern was to be in on the chance the Escarpa represented: the chance to learn more about 'Radiance,' and to make a powerful ally that knew the area better than any of them could.

Given how strong they all looked, she definitely didn't want to make them her enemies.
 
Gladion took a deep breath and steeled himself what was about to happen. They had a plan. They'd got concessions on the railroad to offer, and a more amicable acting-mayor in Lucien to work with... for however long his brief tenure before the election would be. They might, just might be able to stall for time...

But that didn't make it feel any less like the onset of a power struggle. Lucien would be replaced. Nobody would accept concessions on the railroad forever. Every solution they had was just a temporary stopgap so they could try to find a more permanent solution which Gladion didn't trust actually existed. Were they here to take the first step towards fixing things, or was this just the last moment the problem could be delayed for? He wanted it to be the former, but felt like it was probably the latter.
 
In the end, quite a significant number of Wayfarers had come along to this meeting. This didn't seem to bother the scouts escorting them, at least – Halcón remained sanguine, and while Pyrrin was choleric as ever, he didn't bat an eye at the crowd.

They drew near to the Escarpa camp, and a Zangoose guard strolled to meet them, shooing away the kids – who obliged, but not without taunts and laughter. Whether these were directed at the guard or the party was unclear.

"Fair skies, Lluvia," called Halcón.

"Sky's clear for the evening," said the Zangoose, folding her arms. "East tent's all yours. Need anything?"

The Luxio maintained his languid smile, eyes half-lidded. "A bottomless feast of game and fish, agave wine that never gives hangovers, a cloak of invisibility, and half a dozen 'mon to share my bed tonight."

Lluvia had heard this joke before, judging by her expression.

"I'll bring food and drink when my watch ends," she replied, flatly. "Don't go looking like an idiot around strangers."

He shrugged, and kept smiling. "Be sure to let me know if I ever do. See you later!"

Lluvia shook her head in disapproval, and stood back to let the Wayfarers through.

"Chieftain's waiting for you lot in the big tent," the Zangoose told them, gesturing with her dew claw over her shoulder. "Medic's tent is there, latrine is out past the other side of the camp, you can wander around so long as you're not a nuisance to anyone. Fair skies. 'Less there was anything else you needed to know?"
 
The casual banter between Halcón and the zangoose called Lluvia brought a small grin to Kimiko's face and eased that knot in her gut a bit. A small but significant reminder that these were not the savages that some would have them believe.

'Less there was anything else you needed to know?"

She made a mental note of each important location the zangoose pointed out to them. The notion that they were free to roam the camp, under guard or not, was somewhat of a surprise; they weren't here to strike up casual chit-chat with the residents. Lluvia hadn't mentioned anywhere specific in regards to where their warriors practiced or anything, so with the risk of not being a nuisance hanging over them, she figured there was no reason to keep the chieftain waiting.

She considered using the 'fair skies' phrase they'd addressed each other with, but... would they consider that offensive, coming from an outsider? Would they see it as a sign of respect, that they'd used the clan's greeting rather than their own? In the heat of the moment, Kimiko decided to play it safe.

"No, thank you," Kimiko responded, curt but polite, to Lluvia's prompting. If any other others wanted to ask her about Radiance or training whatever else they'd come seeking answers for, that was their perrogative. But Kimiko's main priority - for now - was alerting this Sierra to the dangers her daughter may be in. Discussing how to train alongside the Escarpa was a secondary concern for the moment.

She started towards the large tent Lluvia had directed them towards, pausing only to find where Jade had gone; without her and the earring, none of their other reasons for being here mattered.
 
Ghaspius was told not to waste words, so he did not waste them. Perhaps a bit too literally. The airhead elected to suck in his lips so that he wouldn't speak a peep. His wide-eyed stare simply gazed into the Zangoose's eyes as he floated in awkward silence. It seemed the others would need to lead the way.
 
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Mhynt glanced Kimiko's way, sensing the cautious and thoughtful air about her. She thought similarly. Best keep entirely silent until addressed or if someone on the team was straying too far from their suggested behavior. So far, things seemed fine... mostly.

The Treecko kept her arms to her side or holding her bag of equipment. They were out of their element and knew very little about this 'Brisa' or anyone related to the clan. Or, she didn't know much, at least. They were wise to bring so many, but if they were outmatched, the Wayfarers' numbers could be cut in half just like that. They'd already lost a few to tenuous spiritual connections. If morale was a factor, they needed to keep it high.

But Mhynt knew there was one thing that might be useful to ask. So, she briefly broke her silence. "What townie habits should we avoid while speaking to her?"
 
Dave followed along, looking around. Good to hear the Escarpa broadly weren't much for obligatory courtesy and pleasantries. So much the better if they could just get right to the fucking issues at hand.

Honestly, compared to Pyrrin, the others seemed a lot more chill all around. The whole gang was apparently free to wander around within the camp as they pleased; given their track record with outsiders he wouldn't have faulted them for being a whole lot less trusting than that. Not that there was any reason to be wandering. They were here to see the goddamn chieftain, weren't they. If they were going to chat up random locals they could do it afterwards.
 
"What townie habits should we avoid while speaking to her?"

Lluvia shrugged. "Good question. Tricky to answer. Sierra's spent enough time talking to townies than she knows what you're like – so you are townies? I'm told you're from other worlds. No clanners in other worlds, then? Tch."

Halcón looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "Townies always act like they've got the world figured out even when they're from another world, Lluvia. There's no helping it."

The Zangoose raised a brow. "I'd call that and bet on it if it were something you could pin down." She turned back to Mhynt. "Best thing I can think to tell you is that you'll get nowhere trying to change Sierra's mind from a starting point of believing she's wrong about things and needs them explained to her. New information, surprising information, bargaining by offering something real, showing her something she's not seen before... That might be worth talking about."

Lluvia nodded in a slight bow, and stepped back.

"Ride the tailwind, outworlders," she said, sounding almost friendly.
 
Dave very bravely resisted rolling his eyes or commenting on the rhetorical gymnastics of going from Mhynt's question to "All other universes consist of townies, rather than clanners, obviously the only two possible categories of people that can exist in any universe."

Hard to know exactly what information was going to be new to the chieftain here, and this was all suspiciously close to an excuse to brush off any disagreement on existing premises. Not terribly encouraging. But fine. If he could adjust to talking to Mia, he could adjust to her. Let's do this rhetorical dance, and if this Sierra chose to be obtuse, they never had a chance anyway.

He walked forward to the entrance to the chieftain's tent.
 
Lluvia shrugged. "Good question. Tricky to answer. Sierra's spent enough time talking to townies than she knows what you're like – so you are townies? I'm told you're from other worlds. No clanners in other worlds, then? Tch."
Right, yeah, that made sense. And if Brisa's dad was human like everyone said, then that would mean that Sierra also had plenty of experience talking to humans too. Hopefully that was a good thing.

Jade had thought that talking to clan 'mon might feel a little more natural for her--by her standards, Pokemon who lived in towns and wore clothes and used money were the weird ones. (Stygian would've been right at home among the Escarpa.) Still, she couldn't help feeling tense all the same. Keeping her paw clutched tightly around the dungeon gold hanging from the earring, Jade pushed open the the flap to Sierra's tent
 
"We are from other worlds, though... You can tell me to shut it if I ought to," Gladion mused, "But it's an interesting question. I'd wager there's a good chance most of us are city folk. When this world calls for a certain kind of offworlder's souls, worlds with more souls are more likely to have a match. It's fair to call us townies for most functional intents and purposes, of course, but I'm guessing even people who live in actual towns are outnumbered in the Wayfarers."

He was, perhaps, getting a bit carried away. But it was hard to fight the urge to speculate.

"Given how much fighting we seem to be doing, it seems fair to say someone like a clanner would be far more likely than any one city dweller to be suitable, but with worlds like mine having billions of city folk, even a miniscule chance per-soul will eventually strike a positive when rolled that many times."

A sound halfway between a self-aware laugh and sigh escaped his beak.

"Sorry, guess I'm just like that sometimes. Gotta get a grip..."
 
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