Dot.
Winter can be cruel. At least it is a natural occurence. But what of unnatural winter? A winter that brings mystery and strange dangers? Many rumors spread among the village of Heldren.
The sleepy village of Heldren has rarely seen so much excitement or concern. Hunters from the nearby Border Wood speak of unnaturally cold weather at the height of summer that descended on the forest just days ago. Heavy snow followed, and those who returned spoke of an uneasy presence in the woods, as well as new, dangerous predators. No one knows what this means, but the town's soothsayer, Old Mother Theodora, claims dark times lie ahead.
As if proof of that dire prophecy, a badly wounded mercenary arrived in town yesterday, claiming to be a bodyguard of Lady Argentea Malassene. He told the village council that the noblewoman's escort came under attack by bandits and strange, wintry creatures near the edge of the Border Wood. He alone escaped, and Lady Argentea was dragged away into the forest. Now the townsfolk cast fearful eyes toward the snowy forest, worried what else might emerge to threaten their village.
Councilor Ionnia Teppen has called for a Town Meeting in the morning. The town hall is rather grand for a village this size. It holds nearly the entire population of Heldren. Everyone files in, hoping for some answers to come forth.
Inside, there are rows of seats lined up on the right and left side with a walk path through the center to access all the seats. In the back, there is elevated platform, where it can be assumed that Ionnia Teppen will be speaking there soon.
It had been a long time since Alisa had had a proper job. Her last job was more than two years ago, terminated due to, as always, Alisa's "trouble with social relations". Hey, f#$% those guys anyway. If they were going to dismiss her for knocking some perv out when he touched her, she was better off without their money anyway.
Not that she needed a lot of money these days. Life is cheap for a woman that sleeps in the hollow of a tree and feeds herself with the game she hunts. Manufactured goods are the only things that she needs money for (like arrows, axes, clothes, etc.) and she does odd jobs from time to time for it. Most recently, she got a boar's tusk for some eccentric rich guy, "Amin", who was passing through. Nutjob. And it almost killed her to get the tusk. I don't know if you know this, but boars are tough and strong. Beyond normal hunting/gathering things for money, Alisa has to admit that sometimes she gets into the ring in the local taverns for a good old-fashioned brawl. She doesn't win as often as she'd like, because most of the others that compete are bored town guards, much better trained for fighting than she is, but Alisa is strong and good with her fists, and so she wins just enough to break even, most of the time.
Yesterday, she was bumming around town for a few hours following her latest fight. A loss, unfortunately, but those things happen, I suppose. Still, it didn't put her in any better of a mood for what she heard yesterday - that it had snowed in Border Wood recently, and that strange wintry creatures were skulking about the forest.
In the middle of summer, snow has no place. She almost wishes she could forget, but there was one time that she remembered winter came at the wrong time.
Not again. This was her place, and if the witches wanted to take it, well...They couldn't. Not allowed.
So the next day, she headed to the town council meeting. She'd never been to one of them before, due to a lack of interest, energy, commitment, etc. etc., but this time...this time was different. She had to be there, to have a say.
So she strides in the door, both unarmed and unarmored, wearing a simple tan shift and threadbare breeches. Sizeable bruises adorn the sides of her arms, her right cheek and her left shoulder where she had been pummeled the day before, and a bit of blood is in evidence on her lip where it's been split by the dry summer air. Shoulder-length brown hair, tously and un-brushed, lays flat on her head. Brown eyes regard the larger part of the population of the town from behind freckled, pale cheeks. Her entire body is toned as if from working, and her hands and bare feet are both calloused. Just outside, behind her, is the inquisitive face of her elk, Yakul. She snorts, spits brazenly on the floor of the building, and takes a seat near the back of the room.
Summer, a bronze-skinned, flame-haired young woman, most decidedly not dressed appropriately for either the cold weather nor for any sort of properly civilized person, strolls in to observe the meeting. Rather than take a seat, she simply leans against a wall, idly petting a white rabbit she carried into town with her not long ago, herself having walked out of the snowy wilderness not long ago. She makes no particular effort to catch the attention of others as they enter or engage in conversation, simply surveying the scene in silence.
An unassuming Dwarf carrying little more than a backpack and wearing a set of yak's wool winter cloths makes his way to the nearest seat. His magnificent brown beard is seen poking from under his hood; to which he doffs off to reveal a sun-tanned, stony face and a bald head. He pops out a little tin flask, takes a swig and his face visibly becomes ruddy and red; following up with a sneeze. The people immediately downwind of him are assailed with the strong smell of old beer.
Braddock thinks to himself: "Whew, what a rush! Just what i need on this cold night. As warm as the brews at the inn are, it still can't top the Rising Sun. Sign, speaking of which, there have been strange tales from the tavern of strange happenings. I have felt something odd when I entered this region, and i feel as though I am walking along the path of destiny. This land needs help, and i will offer what I can when I can.
Curious about what he has been hearing, a small green skinned goblin slips into the building. Nix pulls his clothes tight, covering up much of his skin. He makes his way to a corner and does his best to not draw attention to himself. Nix shifts uncomfortably, he does not like leaving Furball outside. Nixbit's eyes scan the room as he waits to hear what will be said.
Looking around the room he spots Summer against the wall. "hmm,that is a nice looking bunny" Braddock thinks to himself "and the rabbit is pretty interesting too, hehe." Looking away and knitting his eyebrows together in thought, he thinks to himself "what odd dress for this weather. she must have packed them away, but why bother? Even in here the cold is bitter, yet she doesn't even shiver; and that rabbit,I wonder whats a young woman is doing with a rabbit? Usually the only people i see with rabbits outside a hutch are children." Then Braddock nods his head and thinks " eh, what do you do? A strange land has strange people".
Summer gives the slightest of grins. "I am indeed a strange person, who travels through strange lands. I am likely as not to be gone from here in short order, should my strange dress and customs be offensive to the local sensibilities, although I would first hear more more of what troubles the locals, and what strange creature or spirit they feel brings bad tidings."
When the unusual began to stir, it caused a strange feeling for the half-elf, who had been in the middle of his afternoon reading. He had found himself a useful position assisting Heldren's apothecary. The travelling he had done before deciding to settle for a while had brought him through some areas where certain plants, roots, minerals and animals were present that might not be easily accessible to those in this area, and he new he could barter a place to stay if he could both show himself as useful and share some of the ingredients he had collected.
Sitting up slowly, he shut the old book, one of his long index fingers holding his place. Amber colored eyes shifted from the window to his left to the entry way to the front of the shop where he was. Standing up, his arm holding the book swung to his side and he walked forward, lengthy legs taking long strides and put himself into the front of the shop.
Keln chewed the inside of his cheek before grabbing a leaf that had blown in from the ground and sliding it into the pages of the book before setting it down on the counter.
The strange chill that had rolled in was disrupting The Balance and that made the young cleric uneasy.
With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his shaggy, loamy soil colored hair before he continued towards the door, grabbing his heavy fur lined jacket and putting it on. Stepping outside the air nipped at his face as he made his way to the town hall. The awkwardly large building was beginning to fill with the other townsmen and he greeted a couple he recognized as patrons of the apothecary.
Looking around he searched for a fairly empty section of the hall and made his way towards it. In the back of his mind, upon seeing the other townspeople, he recalled the sick boy he had watched the apothecary make a tea for... his father should be here somewhere, should he find him and ask how the boy was doing?
Such strange things happening... perhaps he'd been correct when he decided to stay here, The Balance was going to need assistance...
(sorry about the massive wait.)
Knowledge Local Roll
Donnovan Hadn't been in Heldren for all that long, but he'd certainly been here longer than anywhere else he'd traveled in the past. Overall, it was a quiet town, the folk gave him little trouble, and he did his work quietly and with little words to those that he had no business with.
Typically, Donnovan would be lucky to get anything so-much as remotely close to a 'long-term' job. But these were anything but 'typical times,' if the non-seasonal snows and worried talk were any indicator that hard times were upon them.
But as of late, he'd been more than busy. Few were as fortuitous as the big Half-Orc, and he personally didn't mind the cold nearly as badly as the others of the town. Then again, it'd taken him a while when he'd been traveling with his old mercenary company to understand that the other races didn't always share his natural "resistance" to the cold.
Walking into the meeting hall, Donnovan simply moved to the side and back to take his seat and not block anyone's view with his 6'6" of tall bulk. While not particularly wide for a half-orc, he was still large simply by the virtue of being- well -large. And he did tend to stick out with his odd yellowish/pale colored skin and cropped black hair.
He was still wearing his full gear as well; having only just come in fresh from the snows and scouting around the perimeter of the town to help keep everyone's minds more, or less, at ease. While Donnovan wasn't always privy to the talk and gossip going around town, just seeing so many folk rattled worried him. But, Donnovan couldn't afford for it to keep him from doing what he had to; literally. He still had to make financial ends meet at the end of the week to stay under a roof, and "ill omens" or not, he'd brave the cold, monsters, and superstitions to see himself with some moderate comforts.
He'd rather not be sleeping out in the snow again if he could handle it...
Looking around the room, Donnovan saw a few familiar faces, but mostly those of strangers. He pulled the double-axe from its clasps on his side and rested it between his legs so the blades wouldn't happen to knick anyone sitting near to him, resting his corded and muscled arms atop the flat tops of one of the uppermost axe-blades comfortably as he leaned back, relaxed, and waited patiently. This meeting had sounded serious, and he intended to not miss a single word if he could help it.
Unable to help but notice the massive form of Donovan as he entered the hall and took a seat, Braddock remains calm yet wary. Speaking of strange people, here's a piece of work Braddock thinks to himself Almost mistook him for a full blooded orc, height's right anyway. Noting the double axe and the characteristic jutting teeth, Braddock thinks to himself Doesn't seem too ashamed of his heritage it appears: choosing to use the weapon of his "proud" lineage and not filing his tusks down. Looks like a warmonger, probably is one. Braddock takes out his flask and takes a sip with a snort. But I must always remember that things are not always what they seem; although it is hard not to stereotype orcs, full-blooded or not.
Chatter fills the room. While the newcomers are interesting curiosities, no one is rather unsettled. Maybe a few by the appearance of Nixbit, but most people don’t even notice him. Even with the unsettled feeling among the observers, it is not out of hatred. This town is friendly town. They might be taking the responsibilities of taking care of one's neighbor too seriously if anything.
Ionnia Teppai walks in and closes the door behind her. The chatter quiets down as she walk down the pathway.
Ionnia is a middle-aged human, who has been seen with great respect. Her hair has some white color, but it is still fairly brown. Her face is stern at the moment considering the situation, but she is known to be a delight in the community. She has strongly advocated being polite and friendly to visitors that come and go.
She walks down the hall with a straight posture. She is dressed in quite a professional manner to give her citizens at least respect in these dark times.
”I have news to tell.” She says with a commanding leadership like tone. She reaches the platform in an efficient matter. ”It is good to see that we are still together. The citizens and the town council are here. So, we may begin. The morning sun is still out, but winter has been strangely close. Natharen Safander is not present today because he is busy treating the injured stranger that came in yesterday. I was lucky enough to speak him.” She pauses for a moment and takes out a piece of folded paper and unravels it. ”This is his words, I merely wrote down what he said.” She clears her throat. The room is still rather silent. People are attentive and eager to hear what’s next.
Ionnia Teppai reads aloud, ”My name is Yuln Oerstag. I have served as a bodyguard for Lady Argentea Malassene. My ancestors would ridicule for my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatast warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away. We thought that our foes were just bandits at first, outlaws who hide wolves in the forest. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey from the north. They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of winter touched all the time, but I never expected them to meet them this far south.”
Ionnia Teppai pauses to look up at her citizens and clear her throat once more. Some citzens gasp at what has befallen this rather recent visitor.
Ionnia Teppai returns to reading, ”I suspect them to be fey creatures who have sworn themselves to the White Witches of Irrisen, those who stole our lands from us during the winter war. Tiny sprites no taller than the length of a man’s forearm. But don’t be fooled by their small stature. Legends say they have taken a silver of ice into their hearts, and their touch bears the harsh bite of winter. Lady Argentea was taken into the forest, back through the ice and snow. Beyond that, I don’t know. I followed as far as I could, but the winter touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped and rode to seek help here. I don’t why they want her, but if the White Witches took her, no good shall come of it. The winter touched do nothing without the leave of those who placed ice in their hearts. If they are here, it’s because a White Witch has sent them. And much worse will follow. Give the winter touched what they fear… cold iron and burning flame.”
Ionnia Teppai folds the paper and puts it away. ”That is all he had to say. What we need now is people that are willing to rescue Lady Argentea. We need to help this man and hopefully… this town... Will anyone be willing to offer their sword to this cause? The cold draws closer and closer as we remain passive.”
Some people shake their heads out of fear. The room is filled with silence.
"Anyone?"
Well, this changes everything. Also, I guess I'll be getting in a good deed while I'm here after all. I guess this would be as good an opportunity as any to get aid in my foolhardy quest as well. Braddock thinks to himself. I for one don't care to see the sun blotted out upon this fair land . Braddock says as he stands up on his seat to get his head above the crowd. The woman is right, we cannae remain passive like dumb beasts as the wolves of the North stalk us. Braddock pauses for a moment to take a long draw from his flask, then resumes his speech . Sure, it may be just one person carried away; but whose to say there won' be more? Hounds always take one of the herd before they take more, and more until there be nottin' left but a memory. If someone don' act now, then when? Once this town, nae this very land, is buried under the ice? I, Braddock Stonebrow of the Blue Mountains, will lend my services to you mah lady. Braddock then covers his mouth with his hand to stifle a small hiccup in the guise of stroking his beard.
Alisa raises a hand momentarily, and then clamps it over her chest. "I will help you retrieve this woman. I know the forests well, and I ache to thaw it from the grasp that winter holds it in."
She steps forward to stand beside Braddock. "I know of the Winter Witches, also, and I could not stand to see this place subjected to their mercy."
Donnovan just silently stands up in the back, keeping his hands firmly atop the head of the double-axe.
He felt little need to speak, or supply a reason as to why he chose to go as they were his own: especially since it seemed like everyone else had said more than enough without him chiming in more words.
So, simply letting his rather massive and lithely-muscled height speak for itself, he simply picked up the double axe and smacked the opposite blade against the ground once with a dull "thunk" and simply stood straight up in the back.
Alisa turns and raises an eyebrow at the large half-orc banging weapons on the floor. "Is that supposed to be you, saying that you're in, or are you just being percussive?" She smiles, "You don't want me to be singing."
"It was simply meant as a simple 'salute.' And yes... I shall come along," rumbled Donnovan calmly and clearly. The Half-Orc was oddly... well spoken for his kind.
He gave a slight shrug as he continued speaking, "But I suppose I believe more in action than word..."
Donnovan looked around the room... and took a deep breath as he came to a conclusion and hauled up the axe and tilted the blades comfortably, and safely, over a thick shoulder.
whatever... the others can simply look around me if they can't see.
"And I suppose while I'd typically be one to take another at their word, I'd rather hear your singing for myself before making a final judgement. I think we all have hidden talents... it's just a matter of discovering them" said the large half-orc, giving a slight chuckle as he thought back to a especially good memory from his travels abroad.
Keeping the blades safely up, and away from anyone nearby, Donnovan moved over next to the group, standing on Alisa's other side opposite of Braddock; one hand cradling the bottom axehead as his other held the weapons sturdy haft leaned against his shoulder.
"In the end, I believe more in 'action' than 'words.' But I suppose both have their place in this world... but consider my 'percussion' to be the beginning of my 'action' to commit aid and see it through." finished the half-orc, flashing a small shy smile to Arisa before turning his attention back towards Ionnia, face once-more stoney as he returned his attention to the business at hand.
Not bothering to take her eyes off her pet rabbit, Summer raises a hand to call attention to herself and asks, "I don't suppose this Oerstag fellow would happen to be accepting visitors, would he? While I've no doubt he speaks the truth on the matter of fiendish little frost-covered creatures bringing ill will upon your lands, it would be helpful to hear a more detailed account from the source, to know for sure if it's some gaggle of snow-loving pixies, mephits, nymphs who must be dealt with. I've a way of mending a cut or two I may as well put to practice while I'm at it."
Keln only had to think on it for a few moments before scrunching up his face to relieve some tension before he stood. "Whatever is happening is disrupting The Balance and my entire purpose of traveling was to assist in settling that issue..."
Raising a hand, he scratched his head and then looked at the chat going on between Alisa and Duke. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he himself couldn't help but chuckle.
Looking at the woman with the rabbit, he nodded.
"I agree and am curious if the fellow wouldn't mind seeing us..." Shifting his weight on his feet he chewed a bit on his lower lip. What an interesting party we will be... In order to return balance you need a balanced group... this should be a lovely challenge...
Argentea. I bet there will be a sizable reward for someone of that title. She definitely sounds like she has money. Nix pushes through the crowd as he makes his way to the group, pulling down his hood and revealing his large green head. Enormous, red eyes scan the group, pausing on the half-orc as he takes his place beside them. "I will also join this...mission. I do not care for witches nor winter particularly much." Nix says. "I assume there will be some, compensation?" Nix asks Ionnia.
Upon seeing the goblin reveal himself, Braddock's eyebrows knit as he puts on a frown. How did this thing get in here? More importantly, why isn't anyone worried? Goblins are nothing but conniving cannibals that eat everything, like my old drinking buddy Durk and his entire crew while they were asleep. . *cough* "and you are.....?" Braddock asks with an uneasy smile
Nix turns to the dwarf and looks him over. A disgusted look appears on his face as he examines the monk. Ugh. A dwarf, and a smelly one at that. In response to Braddock, "Wondering why you reek of alcohol and..." Nix sniffs a bit before continuing "cheese. I am Nix." Interesting reaction for a dwarf...
persnickety little bastard, aren't yeh? Braddock crosses his arms with a sniff. "As the flower cannot help smell sweet and the musk ox odious, I smell of alcohol and cheese because I cannot help it." Whew! Blast it all, i knew i should have picked up soap when I had the chance "Name's Braddock"
Nix gives a dismissive look at Braddock before turning his eyes to the half-orc. By Lamashtu, this one is tall, even for a half-orc.
Donnovan just looked down at the goblin curiously. He'd dealt with them before in the past as both allies and foes, and while he'd perhaps found some of them to be particularly viscous or aggressive, he'd found others just as likely to be inquisitive and thoughtful.
They were certainly an interesting race, to be sure. But in many ways, despite whatever his own interactions with the race had been, he found both goblin-kind and orc-kin shared a similar reputation amongst the other races. And while he might not be happy about it, he could understand why it was so... even if that reputation seemed to irritably hang over him in all his dealings with the other races typically.
Donnovan gave a polite tilt of his head to the goblin as he continued to speak calmly but firmly. "Hail, Nix. My name is Donnovan, but most simply call me Duke. It's been quite some time since I've traveled with a goblin. I'd offer to shake your hand, but mine are quite full with Gor'duel..." said Donnovan, adjusting his hold on the double-axe.
upon hearing Donnovan name his weapon, Braddock examines the half-orc's double-axe for any noteworthy qualities out of curiosity. Gor'duel, eh? Wonder whats so special 'bout it to name it?
Keln, however curious, was not quite ready to approach the group of three that seemed to be communicating among themselves. The dwarf did smell, and he found it rather musing for the goblin to point out.
When the two stopped talking and the small creature's attention turned to the rather large one, he smirked a bit. From the distance he was at, albeit not too far, it was a queer sight to see the very tall half-orc speaking to the significantly smaller goblin.
For being two of the less well-received races, they did seem to be doing themselves justice by not seeming openly hostile or unwilling to assist; obviously, whether for reward or not, they seemed willing to take on a task that could risk their own persons...
The young half elf put his hands into the pockets of his coat and watched from where he stood, taking it what he could of the three males, though he did spare a few glances to the two females who had offered their services as well, though they were remaining fairly quiet.
Nix,, looks back at the half-orc. This one could be a worthy ally... Nix smiles and takes in a large breath, "Well met, Donnovan-nut-most-simply-call-me-Duke." Nix pauses for a second, "I will just call you Duke." Duke and all the others can tell that while this goblin is intelligent, common is not his first tongue.
seems this one' got more than beetles for brains, all the more reason to watch my back around him
"I believe there could be compensation," Ionnia Teppen responds, with a sigh of relief. Relief that someone is willing to take on the risky venture. "I thank you for offering your services."
The meeting goes on with an extreme emphasis on resource conservation for the impending unatural winter.
"We must take hold of the flame." Ionnia concludes, having her own words try to defy the winter itself. When the meeting is finally finished the door opens and the townspeople return to business as usual. Business as usual because they are not willing to give up there town to the coming winter.
Perkin Tarimm, the town butcher, gives Nixbit a glare. He is sure that little rascal has been stealing from his storage. But, unfortunately... he has no proof. The situation has only got worse for him given that Nixbit has taken a heroic position. Perkin moves quickly when he is outside. Nixbit's pet makes him very uncomfortable.
Thyodrin Bith was lucky enough to beat Alisa today. He was unfortunately not spared a painful welt to the face. Frankly, Alisa has her opponents respect. "Hey Alisa, lets spar again sometime. So, I can win again." He cringes a little at the pain, but he smiles and leaves.
Ionnia Teppai makes sure to inform the volunteers. " I would recommend haste when going southwest from town to the border wood. If you wish to speak with Yuln, he is recovering in the Willowbark Apothecary. I will be working over some matter of the town council at my house. I wish you all good luck." With a wave and a smile, she departs the town hall.
Heldren’s town hall boasts a clock tower overlooking the town square. Its clockworks were imported from Quadira some time ago, and are kept in working order by Orillus Davigen who can usually be found up in the tower tinkering with the machinery. The clock tower’s bells ring every hour from 6 am to 6 pm, and can muster the militia in case of attack. On the wall outside the front door hangs a notice board with local news, job openings, and goods for sale.
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A dirt path winds its way up a low hill west of town to the single door of this square stone tower. The tower is 30 feet high, with battlements on its roof and arrow slits along its walls. It is completely open on the inside, with no interior floors—just a wooden staircase running along the walls to the roof. The tower serves as Heldren’s armory and a place of refuge for the villagers in case the village is ever attacked. In times of peace, the tower is usually unoccupied, but a selection of simple arms and armor is stored inside for the militia.
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Although he spends most of his time shoeing horses and repairing farm tools, Heldren’s blacksmith, Isker Euphram, is quite skilled in battle. A veteran of Taldor’s army, Isker served in Zimar and on the Qadiran border for years before retiring to Heldren. His chain shirt, pike, and short sword are still in good condition, oiled and wrapped in a chest kept in his house behind his shop, and Isker has taken it upon himself to oversee the training of the village’s militia. He keeps a few weapons for sale in his shop and could craft other suits of armor if needed. His daughter, Xanthippe works as his apprentice. When not at her father’s forge, Xanthippe’s likely to be found at the Silver Stoat, holding court with her numerous suitors. Although widely considered the village beauty, Xanthippe is as proficient with her fists as with her hammer, and those few of Heldren’s young men who have tried to woo her too aggressively walked away with black eyes for their troubles.
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Heldren’s general store carries everything a villager needs, as well as most gear an adventurer requires. Heldren sits on the road to Zimar, so plenty of trade passes through the village. The store’s proprietor, Vivialla Steranus, takes advantage of this brisk trade to stock her shelves.
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A well-tended garden sits in front of this equally neat house, the home of Tessaraea Willowbark, Heldren’s resident apothecary. Tessaraea is a relatively new transplant to Heldren, having arrived in the village only 25 years ago after a failed adventuring career up north in the River Kingdoms. She is quiet and somber, and most of the villagers believe she suffered some great tragedy in her past, such as the loss of her one true love. In fact, it was Tessaraea’s brother who died on an ill-fated adventure, slain by a group of trolls. Devastated by his death, she gave up adventuring and moved south, settling in Heldren and taking a human-sounding surname when she opened her apothecary shop. Tessaraea sells a variety of herbs and all of the special substances and Items and a surprisingly large stockpile of alchemist’s fire—since her brother’s death, Tessaraea has had an unreasoning fear of trolls, and almost obsessively crafts the stuff for the inevitable moment when she must face them again.
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An artist with razors and scissors, Argus Goldtooth offers shaves, haircuts, and dentistry, as well as “leechery and other surgical proceedings.” Argus is a fair healer, though he’s prone to prescribing leeches for most maladies, from stomach aches to broken bones. Argus also offers gold teeth to replace extracted ones, and is his own best customer—his easy smile reveals more gold teeth in his mouth than original ones. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Argus has something of a crush on his neighbor, the apothecary Tessaraea Willowbark. Argus has never acted on these feelings, but the two have struck up an unlikely friendship, and it’s not uncommon to find Argus helping tend Tessaraea’s garden on Sundays or sharing a pint with her at the Silver Stoat in the evenings.
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Heldren’s only tavern, the Silver Stoat, stands right on the town square across from the town hall. A fixture of village life, the tavern fills up with patronsin the evening as they gather to share gossip, hear news,and reward themselves for a hard day’s work. Anything that’s worth knowing in Heldren gets talked about here, and if asked where he got a particularly juicy bit of gossip or information, a villager will likely say, “I heard it from the Stoat.” Husband and wife Menander and Kale Garimos run the Silver Stoat as if it were their family kitchen—there’s always a seat at the table or a space by the hearth for a guest, or a warm bowl of Menander’s hearty stew for an empty belly. Menander works in the kitchen, cooking up his famous venison flank steak and numble pie. Kale tends bar, serving up the tavern’s signature brew, Three Devil Ale, which she brews in-house using imported Chelish hops. Heldren doesn’t get many visitors, so there is no true inn in the village, but travelers are welcome to a spot on the floor of the Stoat next to the fireplace for a night, as long as they’re up early and on their way. Those who linger risk a rude awakening from Menander’s wet mop in their faces.
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At the stable next door to the Silver Stoat, Sophia Imirras offers horses for hire or sale, as well as stabling and grooming. Royal couriers on their way to or from Demgazi or Zimar often change horses here. None of Sophia’s horses are combat trained. Sophia also has two carts, a wagon, and a carriage for hire. A traveling noble gave her the carriage as a reward when she managed to calm the newly broken stallion he was riding before it could trample him. Both luxurious and ostentatious, the carriage sees most of its use at village weddings.
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The most notable feature of Heldren’s town square is the large statue of a beautiful woman rightin the center of the town. Usually just called “the Lady,” thestatue has been here for as long as anyone can remember, and no one knows who it actually represents. Some believe the Lady was the founder of Heldren or some ancient, forgotten Taldan noblewoman or even a mysterious fey forest goddess. Others have more sinister theories—an evil witch turned to stone for her wickedness or a magical statue through which the satrap of Qadira can spy on Taldor. On any given day, a few entrepreneurs selling goods or produce can be found on the square, and a market is held on the last Fireday of every month. Elder Natharen Safander also hosts the annual Harvest Feast in the town square, during which the people of Heldren erect a giant bonfire in the square and bedeck the Lady in garlands of f lowers.
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The leader of Heldren’svillage council, Ionnia Teppen, lives in this simple two storyhouse just off the town square. Ionnia’s family has had a place in Heldren’s politics for generations, and her membership on the town council was all but assured. She is by far the most influential member of the council, and most villagers consider her the de facto mayor of Heldren.
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Although Elder Natharen Safander is a cleric of Erastil, he tends to all of the village’s flock regardless of their faith. Though most of the villagers follow the teachings of Old Deadeye, the temple also contains shrines to Abadar, Gozreh, Pharasma, and even Sarenrae. Natharen doesn’t much care for the Taldan government’s intolerant stance on the faith of the Dawnf lower, and believes that in a village like Heldren the sun goddess is as important as the god of agriculture. Natharen’s wife, Zaarida, is a Qadiran transplant and faithful worshiper of Sarenrae, and assists him during services and with the temple’s upkeep.
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Heldren’s foremost woodworker is Tengezil Frimbocket, a gnome with a wildshock of electric blue hair. He decorates his creations with delicate and elaborate trim he calls “gingerbread,” a style that has proven quite popular among the well-to-do of Taldor’s southern cities. Tengezil claims to be from Wispil, but he is in fact an exile from the land of Irrisen, far to the north. Tengezil has a twin brother named Arbagazor, but the two were separated when they were young. Tengezil assumes his brother is dead…
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Heldren’s sawmill stays busy day and night cutting timber harvested by the village’s woodcutters into planks for shipment to Zimar and other cities, and stacks of lumber are always heaped outside. Partners Alexius Demetri and Lycio Vallant oversee the sawmill’s operation, which makes them two of Heldren’s wealthiest residents. Their large house on the north side of town is easily Heldren’s largest private home, nicknamed “Sawmill Manor” by the town.
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The name of this butcher shop refers to the supposed nickname of its proprietor, Perkin Tarimm, who claims to be a retired Zimar corsair. In fact, Perkin was nothing more than a common river bandit who took up the safer trade of butchery when the real Zimar corsairs almost caught him, and he has never butchered anything beyond the chickens and pigs that inhabit the yard behind his shop. Customers are welcome to enjoy one of the pickled sows’ ears in the large jar on the counter while they wait for Perkin to prepare their cuts of meat.
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Every village has its resident wise woman, and Heldren is no exception. No one in the village is sure just how ancient Old Mother Theodora is, but she’s been around as long as anyone in town can remember. Old Mother Theodora is Heldren’s most skilled midwife, and she helped deliver just about everyone currently living in the village. She’s also a soothsayer and hedge witch, and villagers come to her to have their fortunes told or buy love potions or herbal remedies.
Alisa doesn't really have any friends in the town of Heldren, so she has nobody to say goodbye to or to leave anything to when she leaves. However, she does want to do a few things before their expedition into the unnaturally cold forest.
The first thing she does is gather the attention of the other volunteers, just outside the town hall, after the meeting. Any that care to listen hear her request as she vaults atop her large, beautiful golden elk.
"Hey, so since we'll likely be camping in the cold for a few days, at least, I wanted your assurances that you're all ready for the elements. Tents, bedrolls, blankets, firewood, cold-weather clothes and the like. I was also wondering if you would go in on a pavilion tent with me. It's large, it's got room for a fire, and it'll fit all of us, plus the animals. Shouldn't require more than fifteen gold per person, neither."
"Get back to me when you decide. I've got errands. Remember, the cold's as likely to kill you as one of those...winter fey."
With that, she urges Yakul to turn and ride away, headed to the smithy. She dismounts just outside and opens the door, hailing Isker, the smith. "Isker. I was wondering if you had any cold iron weapons in stock? I'm looking for a battleaxe made of the stuff, but nearly anything else will do. I've got gold to pay for it."
"Well, I agree with the lass: getting a pavilion tent would be very helpful. Unfortunately, I am down to my last few gold pieces. But I will contribute what i can towards the tent,and I will offer my services as a brewer to help cover the rest of what I owe. In the meantime, ill be off to fetch a few things from the general store
"I'll brew something simple, yet satisfying; like perhaps some of the Common Man can win 'em over. Hehe, won't they be surprised to taste beer brewed in only a day; gets em every time."
Braddock heads down the General Store.
He walks in, gives a small bow to Vivalla, and asks him "Hello there sir, I would like to purchase a bedroll, some soap, hops,some peppercorns, a bushel of radishes,a couple pounds of sugar,and a few cabbages; if ya have any."
Donnovon nodded. His double axe was back over his shoulder in the clasps that kept it secured along his side as he walked out, his scalemail give quiet little 'clinks' as the scaled rubbed and ticked together with his movement and heavy steps.
"I only have 11 gold pieces left to my name, but I'd be happy to contribute it."
As Alisa headed off, Donnovan turned to speak to those that remained.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hoping that our new employer, mayor Ionnia, will be willing to give us a small forward payment so we can actually equip ourselves accordingly for this venture. I don't know about the rest of you, but I wasn't planning on running off to fight some fey in a snowstorm during the summer months..." Donnovan, scratched his jaw before continuing. "If any of you wish to come along, perhaps we can be all the more persuasive for getting a bit of coin to better outfit ourselves. Otherwise, I'll meet you all back at the Silver Stoat. Seems as good a place as any to meet before we leave."
With that Donnovan headed off towards Ionnia Teppen's residence. As he walked up to the front door. he knocked on the door firmly but politely, and stepped back to wait patiently.