Central Keron
The first Ostomrei knew about Bavinar's imminent arrival was one of his vuzhhoi`thye'lair - Kuzkol, by the stark burn mark running from beak to crown, black against sapphire - announcing its presence with an undigified sqawk at the window. Once she had taken a second to calm herself down fom the immediate and honed fight-or-flight response that she had been trained into, she stood up, walked over to the glass, and slid it open.
The ornithuromorph hopped over the ledge and onto her waiting palm.
"Hello again," she whispered to it; Kuzkol cocked its head at her in response.
The Veszcotan blockade of Keron was tightening - she heard it on their communication devices that morning; eyewitness accounts from their agents and contacts within the Veszcotan navy, and those Quera stationed near the coast. That would make things difficult for sure. But, with the industrial camps they'd liberated, and the resources already smuggled into the country, the uprising could start making its own arms and equipment in not too long. Ostomrei thanked the Chorus for the insight of the Quera institution - it was policy for each Quera stationed in the types of roles that she, Bavinar and Tahwur had been to bring along reproduceable root stocks or seeds of Sister's Wort, as well as spores of krer`nir and dye'kavyar. It may be that the Veszcotans could strangle the inflow of arms and ammunition, but they couldn't stop them from growing their own; Ostomrei felt a sad, wry smile creep onto her lips. The fungi, too, could cause the forces ranged against them significant... difficulty. And that was to say nothing of the sapphire pheonixes or wyverns.
Kuzkol shrieked at her again, presumably in protest for not being shown enough attention.
"Sorry," she muttered. She reached out a hand, and started stroking the back of its head and neck with a curled finger, which the avian leant in to. Really, she could not understand how on earth people like Bavinar could deal with one of these loud, demanding creatures, let alone the ten he looked after. And then there were the wyverns. Ostomrei was aware of at least a few of her fellow agents in her part of the country who were partnered with them; many more were across the country. The advantage of a physically and politically exposed country was that not many people were paying too much attention to what wildlife goes in and out, until the point they take a special interest in it. Many of the agents had already been in Keron before the murmurings of a movement had begun; on hearing them, Quera from across the region had made their way into the state, using all their training to evade the Keronian authorities, and anyone else who may be watching. Yes, they were not to engage either the Veszcotan or Keronian forces directly unless there was no other option, but that did not mean they were not prepared, and it certainly did not mean that they would not prepare their erstwhile comrades in the Keronian uprising.
Following the initial meeting Ti-fo had had, and the following discussion with the almagamation of groups at the camp, representative of the various parts of the movement had reconvened the following morning via the encrypted communications devices the Quera had provided them. Their decision had been - at least to Ostomrei's and Tahwur's mind - sound: they would pick their battles, against both the invaders and the regime - ambushes, depot destruction, convoy harrying. In short, the things the Quera had excelled in for millennia.
A group of workers hurried past the open window; a couple looked her way. One raised a hand in greeting, saw Kuzkol on her arm, and faltered.
Ostomrei smiled at him, despite everything. She tried to imagine what she looked like to the youth, then decided that was a battle best not thought about.
They were busy rebuilding sections of the camp that had been destroyed in the liberation, and setting up new makeshift workshops to begin to produce what equipment they could - they were all aware of how little time they had left on what had up until now relatively reliable smuggling routes. Would some things get through the blockade? Almost certainly - where there was a way, there is the Quera, after all. But it would not be anywhere near the amount that the movement had previously relied upon. Now, it would have to be only the essentials, the things they could not make or grow here, but could not do without. And, even then, it would never be a certainty that they would arrive, let alone in the timescale and amount that they needed.
Tomorrow, a small detatchment would go out to the next camp along, one of the few still under Keronian control. If they could ambush or sabotage anything along the way, all the better. Ostomrei and Bavinar would go with them, whilst Tahwur would stay here, and watch over and assist the best he could.
The sun creeped towards the horizon, and the shadows began to lengthen.
The first Ostomrei knew about Bavinar's imminent arrival was one of his vuzhhoi`thye'lair - Kuzkol, by the stark burn mark running from beak to crown, black against sapphire - announcing its presence with an undigified sqawk at the window. Once she had taken a second to calm herself down fom the immediate and honed fight-or-flight response that she had been trained into, she stood up, walked over to the glass, and slid it open.
The ornithuromorph hopped over the ledge and onto her waiting palm.
"Hello again," she whispered to it; Kuzkol cocked its head at her in response.
The Veszcotan blockade of Keron was tightening - she heard it on their communication devices that morning; eyewitness accounts from their agents and contacts within the Veszcotan navy, and those Quera stationed near the coast. That would make things difficult for sure. But, with the industrial camps they'd liberated, and the resources already smuggled into the country, the uprising could start making its own arms and equipment in not too long. Ostomrei thanked the Chorus for the insight of the Quera institution - it was policy for each Quera stationed in the types of roles that she, Bavinar and Tahwur had been to bring along reproduceable root stocks or seeds of Sister's Wort, as well as spores of krer`nir and dye'kavyar. It may be that the Veszcotans could strangle the inflow of arms and ammunition, but they couldn't stop them from growing their own; Ostomrei felt a sad, wry smile creep onto her lips. The fungi, too, could cause the forces ranged against them significant... difficulty. And that was to say nothing of the sapphire pheonixes or wyverns.
Kuzkol shrieked at her again, presumably in protest for not being shown enough attention.
"Sorry," she muttered. She reached out a hand, and started stroking the back of its head and neck with a curled finger, which the avian leant in to. Really, she could not understand how on earth people like Bavinar could deal with one of these loud, demanding creatures, let alone the ten he looked after. And then there were the wyverns. Ostomrei was aware of at least a few of her fellow agents in her part of the country who were partnered with them; many more were across the country. The advantage of a physically and politically exposed country was that not many people were paying too much attention to what wildlife goes in and out, until the point they take a special interest in it. Many of the agents had already been in Keron before the murmurings of a movement had begun; on hearing them, Quera from across the region had made their way into the state, using all their training to evade the Keronian authorities, and anyone else who may be watching. Yes, they were not to engage either the Veszcotan or Keronian forces directly unless there was no other option, but that did not mean they were not prepared, and it certainly did not mean that they would not prepare their erstwhile comrades in the Keronian uprising.
Following the initial meeting Ti-fo had had, and the following discussion with the almagamation of groups at the camp, representative of the various parts of the movement had reconvened the following morning via the encrypted communications devices the Quera had provided them. Their decision had been - at least to Ostomrei's and Tahwur's mind - sound: they would pick their battles, against both the invaders and the regime - ambushes, depot destruction, convoy harrying. In short, the things the Quera had excelled in for millennia.
A group of workers hurried past the open window; a couple looked her way. One raised a hand in greeting, saw Kuzkol on her arm, and faltered.
Ostomrei smiled at him, despite everything. She tried to imagine what she looked like to the youth, then decided that was a battle best not thought about.
They were busy rebuilding sections of the camp that had been destroyed in the liberation, and setting up new makeshift workshops to begin to produce what equipment they could - they were all aware of how little time they had left on what had up until now relatively reliable smuggling routes. Would some things get through the blockade? Almost certainly - where there was a way, there is the Quera, after all. But it would not be anywhere near the amount that the movement had previously relied upon. Now, it would have to be only the essentials, the things they could not make or grow here, but could not do without. And, even then, it would never be a certainty that they would arrive, let alone in the timescale and amount that they needed.
Tomorrow, a small detatchment would go out to the next camp along, one of the few still under Keronian control. If they could ambush or sabotage anything along the way, all the better. Ostomrei and Bavinar would go with them, whilst Tahwur would stay here, and watch over and assist the best he could.
The sun creeped towards the horizon, and the shadows began to lengthen.
Harndon
Some wanker with too much time and too little energy.
