Penumbra's keepsake

"I actually have this little keepsake around to remind myself just how short life can be," Ian says, lifting the lid and setting it aside before drawing out the object formerly confined within the box: A glass jar containing the mummified head of what appears to be a black-haired Qua male. He sets the jar on the desk, then returns the lid to the box before turning his attention back to Ora. "What would you like to see first? Amusements? Oddities? Mysteries? Or the bridge?"

Ora's brows rise, and she actually sweeps her hair aside with a lift of her hand to peer more closely at the jar and its contents, unperturbed by the grisly sight. "Refreshing," she repeats herself, this time with a definite tone of amusement and interest. "To need the antithesis of life to remind yourself that you are living. First? You shall tell me the tale of this artifact. Then, you can show me the rest in alphabetical order."

"Well, I keep it around as a reminder, yes, but I also find that the Chief here is my most trusted and loyal confidant, one who will hear all my concerns and never, ever, ever stab me in the back. No arms, you see," Ian grins. Then he walks around his desk and settles into his chair. "The Chief's tale isn't a very happy one. I'm not even sure it's entirely true. But it's a good one, I'll grant that much. I got him from an Odarite merchant last year."

"Truly?" Ora murmurs, eye-to-eye with the chief now through the murky translucence of the preserving liquid. "I must work my way into his good graces then."

"He knows you as well as I do, so you've got nothing to worry about," Ian replies, smirking. "He thought making you my consigliere was a fine idea." He sighs. "Anyway, his story. His real name, the Odarite told me, was Jon Falling Bear. He was a Qua chieftain back during the bad old days, around the turn of the 29th Century, when the Kretonians were still lording it over the cosmos. Jon Falling Bear was a Mystic sympathizer. He gave them shelter and aid. He led Qua warriors against Centauran and Kretonian extermination squads. A real hero." He leans forward, resting a hand atop the jar. "Enemies, he had no problem finding. Trouble is, he did a piss-poor job of picking his friends. One of his top men, William Hawk, took a pretty practical view of things. The Kretonians owned everything. It was just a matter of time before the Centaurans dealt with the Mystics. No one had a clue the Nall or their friends were going to rise up and do some exterminating of their own. So, Hawk went to the Kretonians with a deal: They spare his life, give him some cushy lackey job like a Centauran, and he'd give them Jon Falling Bear. They took the deal. Hawk sold his buddy out. The Kretonians took Falling Bear's head as a souvenir. They had respect for him. They didn't keep any of William Hawk. They let the Centaurans slurp up his remains. Even the Krets had some standards about backstabbers." He takes his hand off the jar, lacing his fingers together on the desktop. "The Odarites found his head in the wreckage of one of the old Kret warships on the Line of Pain. Now, he's here."