|
Bara eyes your transformed body. "An impressive trick. I must say, green suits you. Keep it up and you'll get used to the night vision - and occasionally beating someone to death in a fit of rage."
Svetlana blushes at your question. "I think so, sister. I have not had my, uh, cycle and it's long past due. I haven't told him yet, I think it prudent to wait a few weeks to be sure. Oh, I've wanted this for so long!"
"Do your duty, Idris," says Bara, slipping an arm around your waist. "I won't dry up and blow off on the wind out here." The assassin ponders your request for a moment. "The topic of armor did come up. It is not my usual garb, but perhaps something more protective then these," she says, indicating her weathered leathers. "We are not so different in form, the fit should be similar."
G
Kesten shoots an exasperated look at Maja before replying to Seraphina. "My brother is an ass," he states. "You may reliably count upon him to take the worst option before him. Whether that means unabashed adoration or scornful rejection, whichever serves to offend the most. If you are to wed him, I will say a prayer for your forlorn soul."
The nobleman delivers the coup de grace to the stub of his cigar, stubbing it out on the table before him, and sighs. "I had not intended to discuss this subject in public, Lady Medvyed, but yes, your new features are a tad off-putting. I have heard of magi consumed by their magics, their bodies warped and souls forfeit to some fell bargain. Kol's sonnets made no mention of reptilian features, so I presume these are of recent manifestation. I worry that your sorcery will rob you of humanity. I do not think it will do your mother good to see you in such a state, either. It may be necessary to find a sage or healer to revert and repair some of these ... changes."
Seraphina chuckled, "Perhaps when next we have need to beat someone to death, I'll give it a try. I think we could pass for sisters like this, I always wanted a sister." She grins and punches Bara's shoulder playfully. "Get some sleep, sis. I'll keep the watch."
Kesten shoots an exasperated look at Maja before replying to Seraphina. "My brother is an ass," he states. "You may reliably count upon him to take the worst option before him. Whether that means unabashed adoration or scornful rejection, whichever serves to offend the most. If you are to wed him, I will say a prayer for your forlorn soul."
The nobleman delivers the coup de grace to the stub of his cigar, stubbing it out on the table before him, and sighs. "I had not intended to discuss this subject in public, Lady Medvyed, but yes, your new features are a tad off-putting. I have heard of magi consumed by their magics, their bodies warped and souls forfeit to some fell bargain. Kol's sonnets made no mention of reptilian features, so I presume these are of recent manifestation. I worry that your sorcery will rob you of humanity. I do not think it will do your mother good to see you in such a state, either. It may be necessary to find a sage or healer to revert and repair some of these ... changes."...
Sera inhaled deeply and sighed as well with a soft rumble that sounded much like a throaty purr. "Do you find me monstrous, then? Do I suddenly seem like something more or less than myself, Kesten? I have spoken with a healer, and a sage as well and I have been following their advice. I cannot be cured of what offends you, Lord Garess, for it is what I am. These claws and scales are not reptillian as you imagine, they are draconic. I am dragon-kin, Kesten, and I have been from my beginning. Though I did not know it for certain until recently, I have a Copper Dragon somewhere in my ancestry. It is the ancient power of my blood that lends me my odd coloring, my magical talents and now my toughened skin. My claws had developed before Kol's ill-conceived courtship, but I kept them concealed, honoring my duty to my family and behaving as a Lady is expected. But I am done with fearing my own flesh and indulging the prejudices of noblemen, and if that means I never marry, then so be it! I can benefit my house in other ways now."
She rose and bowed her head to their hosts, noting the surprised look on their faces and gave Maja a weak, watery smile before she sought the door and the privacy and safety of the guest house. She needed to get out of the beautiful gown before her tears flowed and irreparably marred the delicate silk.
Pretty waits until Sera has moved out to add her own comment to the situation, showing she does not share Sera's concerns. "Oh my god, she's suffering so much!" He voice denounces some sarcasm, and she continues making a drama out of it, putting both hands over her heart. "Thanks god it's not me in that situation! No, no, that would not do... I don't know if I could withstand having draconic blood in my veins... even worst, blood of a metallic and good-aligned dragon, granting me magic abilities!?! Gosh I'm so lucky!"
Pretty realizes that now scorn does not go well with nobles. So she cannot help but to keep the sarcasm on. "I am sympathetic, it's just that I don't understand. I thought nobles were educated people who served others, aren't they!? On my last lesson I learned that nobles dedicate their lives to the good of the community, and that it takes a good noble to keep the bad ones at bay. So it shouldn't be a problem, right? There will be tons of good nobles to keep the other ones at bay, right?"
Oh yes, she took that lesson to the heart. Only to return it to you every time she could.
Maja leaves and the mood has decreased, again. "So, Kesten, do you still like that river folk quote?"
|
|
Kesten tries to say something to Seraphina as she rushes for the door, but doesn't manage to get anything intelligible out. "Damnation!" he swears in her wake, thumping the table with his fist. "I know nothing of magic and sorcery. My world is swordplay and maneuvering and dusty old heraldry. Blood of a dragon! Like a story from the days of Choral! That's quite the revelation, then."
The nobleman narrows his eyes at Pretty's jabs. "Perhaps the weeks in the wilderness have faded your memory," he begins, icily. "But you would do well to watch your tongue when discussing those of high birth. You, of all the company, should understand the consequences of provoking those who take their status more seriously than I. If you jape at a woman in that manner in Restov, you should be prepared to answer for your words at swordpoint. Rostlanders take affairs of honor seriously, and the duel is their bread and butter."
Kesten sighs and rises, buckling his sword belt back on over his smoking jacket. "That saying is ash in my mouth, Pretty. Ash in my mouth.". The mercenary heads for the door, failing to bid a proper farewell to his hosts. Bara slips out of her seat as he leaves, stepping silently in the wake of Kesten's booted footsteps. She eases the door open a crack, squeezes through, and shuts it with the gentlest of clicks.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Pretty looks to one side, then to the other, then she taps her finger against the table. "It wasn't my intention to ruin the mood, sorry Oleg..."
Kivan seems to be happy that his magic item was able to help out with several jobs. He also seems interested in what might be coming next, but this is put to the back of his mind for a bit as Sera and Kesten start arguing. Kivan sits there not having much to comment about one way or the other, but when Kesten and Bara leave Kivan follows as well just to make sure that everything is all right.
|
|
Following Bara out the door, you see her pressed against the side of the guest house, peeking around the corner to follow Kesten's movement. The shadows cloak her well, but her position doesn't shield her from your view. Kesten strides across the courtyard and climbs the staircase to the walls. You hear low murmurs as he confers with one of his soldiers, and see the tiny orange-red pinprick of light as the nobleman lights yet another cigar.
Bara's posture relaxes as Kesten reaches his destination. Standing up from her concealment, the assassin turns around and locks eyes with you for a moment, no expression on her face. Without comment, she walks to the door of the guest house and slips inside.
A few moments after your arrival, Bara enters the guest house. She walks over to Seraphina in the dim light of the single tallow candle which lights the room, her footsteps remarkably soft for hobnail-soled boots. The half-orc puts a strong hand on Sera's shoulder and squeezes. "A man who would not have you is a fool," she says, simply. "You are worth too much to care what fools think. Hold your head high." Message delivered, Bara washes her face in a basin of cool water, strips to her smallclothes, and stretches out under the covers of Idris' bed.
After Kesten leaves, Idris says, "You're good at sparring with words, Pretty, but I think you might have cut a little deep with that one."
Idris arrives a little while after Bara, and seeing Seraphina's sadness, gives her a fierce hug. "I'm sure he'll come around, Sera."
She undresses and slips into bed beside Bara, making explicit the relationship that had been suspected but not yet confirmed during the travel back. She sleeps until her watch is due, and rises when needed.
Idris gives Bara an affectionate bite on the jaw and nods. "I'll just tell them to add a few extra inches for these lovely girls," she says, giving Bara's left breast a playful squeeze. She then asks a few more questions about what armor or other gear would suit her new lover the best.
Kivan walks past Bara also without comment and joins Kesten up on the wall. Kivan will try to make sure that he and Kesten are alone for this talk.
"It seems like things got a little bit heated back there in the common room. I can't say that I know what you are feeling right now, but let me tell you a small story. It's about an elf who went out into the world and cared about everyone. On his travels he met a half-orc who was in trouble. It seemed that several bandits had cornered him and he needed help. The elf feeling sorry for the half-orc and wanting to help charged into battle by his side. The elf and half-orc worked amazing together. The elf kept the majority of the bandits back while the half-orc slayed the leader. Then the other bandits fled. The elf turned to the half-orc and smiled thinking that he had met a new friend. He was wrong. See it turned out that the half-orc had been the leader of some bandits, and he had wanted to burn down a farm with all of the farmers inside. Who the elf thought had been bandits had actually been people who wouldn't go through with the burning. The half-orc cut open the elf's arm and stole some of his belongings. The elf felt hurt and betrayed by the fact that someone he trusted would wound him so deeply. The elf then decided that he would get even with the half-orc. Finding the half-orc's camp the elf killed the half-orc's horse and burnt his supplies. The moral to this story is just because you trust someone doesn't mean they can't hurt you. I got cut up by a half-orc who I thought was a friend. You got cut up by someone you care for. My suggestion is to just relax and sleep on it. In the morning everything will seem much less important than it does now, and that's when you can decide if revenge is worth it or not."
Throughout the talk Kivan will be trying to make sure that Kesten is okay.
Seraphina had held back her tears just long enough to get the fine silk gown and necklace off and hung safely over the dressing screen. She grabbed up her plain green riding dress again with the intention of putting it back on. But her eyes fell on the crooked seam where the crossbow had pierced her shoulder and the dress crumpled in her hands as she was racked with silent sobs and sank down on the bed, still wearing only her gauzy linen shift. And so Maja found her this way, weeping like a homesick child.
The cleric follows her friend to the guest room and holds Sera in an embrace. "Sera, Sera, it's okay. Kesten doesn't know what he says, he's just worried about you. You know, he approached me a few days ago out of concern for you. He cares, but he's just too dense to realize he's offending you."
"Oh, Maja, be careful! Don't let me burn you!" she cried out, sweeping her friend's embracing hands away from the sizzling streams of acid that crept down her cheeks. In her fumbling, she splashed the dress in her hands and watched in dismay as the fabric smoked and the tear stain quickly became a hole, bringing a fresh wail to her lips. "Oh no! I can't even cry properly now!" She tossed the dress aside and scrubbed angrily at her face, commanding herself to be composed. She could not afford such a childish fit. She only had so many clothes!
"Of course he's concerned! Apparently I may one day sneeze in my sleep and burn a smoking hole right through anyone foolhardy enough to share my bed." Her tone was bitter and sardonic, but at least the corrosive tears had ceased to flow. "I told you he would hate me once he knew the truth, now you'll see the proof of that. At least some good will come of it. Kesten will warn his brother now and Kol will abandon his aspirations of marriage and seek someone more suitable instead. He disparages Kol, but I know Kesten will protect him. That's what older brothers do. And I will be spared from trying to negotiate my way out of that insufferable union."
About that time, Bara entered said the warmest words Sera had ever heard her utter. She smiled and patted Bara's strong hand on her shoulder, "Thank you, my friend. I think much of your worth as well."
Sera retrieved her green dress, frowning at the singed spot. She turned to Maja. "Do you think Kivan could fix it with his magic? I don't think I can sew that and make it wearable again." She resolved to ask him when he came in.
Idris' hug brightened Sera further still. She felt more than a little foolish for such a pitiful indulgence of her mercurial temperament, when she was so rich in friends. "Perhaps you are right, he truly did surprise me with the Sootscales. I should not have made such a scene, he did not deserve that, however he feels toward me. I was upset over my mother's letter. She urges me to accept Kol and to come home to her and she sounds so forlorn, I do not think I can bear to deny her on both counts. I've never been in the habit of..." Sera stopped in the midst of her speech, staring open-mouthed as Idris climbed under the covers and snuggled up to Bara in the same bed. "... displeasing her."
She turns to Maja, looking bewildered. "Oh my... I didn't see that coming at all, did you?" Then she clapped her hand over her mouth to cover her sheepish grin and to stifle the giggles she felt bubbling up.
Kesten and Sera were away from the table, so she clarified the subject a bit. "Deep as it may cut, you better learn. You will only get worst from the nobles in Brevoy. It will be good for Sera to be prepared. Coming back the way she is probably won't be a pleasant experience for her."
"Gorum's balls, Maja, we're just sleeping right now... I'll talk to you about it in the morning."
As the group prepares to head off, Idris beckons Maja to a private place to talk.
"I know it's not conventional, but the fact is I've never felt anything for any man, and I certainly don't want to get married and have children. Maybe get married, but definitely not kids. I can't fight if I'm carrying. "
"Neither Bara nor I would ever be the proper little Erastilian farmer's wife -- surely you can see that? What this is between us, it's very new, and strange for me, and I don't know if it will last, but right now it's right for me. It's like a relationship between two soldiers -- something I've read is pretty common."
"I didn't mean to surprise everyone -- I thought about how I'd missed seeing what she was doing for a couple weeks now, and then it all clicked in my mind, and I figured you all had seen it, but were ignoring it because I hadn't seen it yet."
"It's common among the nobility in New Stetven, anyway, at least what I saw of them in the academy. Some girls have said that they were told by their mothers when they sent them to the dorms -- 'Stay away from boys; girls can't get you pregnant!' And the boys were similar. I think they wanted to make sure there would be no bastard children sired before the arranged marriage decided for them by their families. There was lots of romance, but very little of it was between opposite sexes. Not for me, though -- lest you think I'm with Bara because of what happened in the academy -- I was the penniless orphan. No girl would want me as a lover because I had no prestige or standing. The one boy who convinced me to try, was nearly the same, and none of the boys in the dorm wanted him either. But it was horrible, and left me with no desire to try men again."
"I don't know that no 'right man' will come along, since I can't see what the future holds, but, well, I mean, every woman is different, right, and we should be able to choose what fits our particular self the best? That's what you're working for, right? Why can't who we end up -- well, I'm not sure if this is love, but let's say for the sake of argument, why can't who we fall in love with be part of those differences too?"
Try as she might, Sera could not stop smiling as Maja scolded her for being so amused and her comment about being away from men for too long sent her into delirious peals of laughter that could likely be heard from the battlements themselves. Maja had escaped out of the door long before she regained control.
"Oh dear, now even Maja is cross. There must be tumultuous moon tonight! Well, I for one am happy for the two of you. Surely someone deserves to squeeze some joy from the fruits of this life. I am just so surprised! Here I was thinking Bara was nursing a crush on that actor fellow. He was quite a specimen of masculine beauty, after all!"
Finally she quieted herself and climbed beneath her own covers to lay in silence as she waited for Kivan to come in. To occupy herself, she worked on what she would reply to her mother.
Dear Mother,
I am glad to hear from you, but it pains me to know your grief lies so fresh and sharp upon your heart and mind. I hope you will be comforted by the news I will share now. First and foremost, I am very well and I go to Restov with our company soon and will know more of our future circumstances. I promise I will be with you again as soon as I am able and you can tell your sons that I will wish know the reason why they have left you on your own with too much time to dwell on such dark thoughts.
It is a cold comfort I must offer you now. I know you were worried and confused when I decided to join this endeavor and I apologize that I left you in such a state with so little explanation. But I knew the truth would only serve to frighten you further, so I withheld my reasons. I followed the trail of whispered rumor and hunted down that horror of your dreams and mine. I found him, Mama. I found the stag-headed monster who drenched his hands in Medvyed blood. We used his own weaknesses against him and destroyed his evil with sword and spell. My own hands helped deliver the tyrant to his end, my father and brothers are avenged! I know it can do little to soothe the ache of their loss, but I pray their spirits rest easier now. I have honored them the only way I knew how.
I must say, it surprises me to see you speak so of Lord Kesten Garess. I hope you are only so candid with me because you fear for my virtue and do not speak of him thus to any who would hear you. I promise you that I remember my responsibilities well and am not so gullible as to fall prey to simple lechery. Besides, I assured you truthfully that he has behaved as a friend and a gentleman. I find him a decent sort, properly contrite and recognizant of his own failings... unlike his brother.
I must confess, mother, I have my doubts that I could ever love Kol. All I ever saw reflected in his eyes was infatuation and ambition. That man simply wants a shining trophy of a woman to parade around upon his arm. He enjoys the sound of his own voice so much I doubt he even heard the few things I said in reply and I found no sense of humor in the man. Honestly, mother, I pray that you love me too well to doom me to such a union without either love or laughter to keep me. Besides, I have my doubts that he would still desire the marriage with the changes that have manifested in me since I left Stoneclimb, it's possible no nobleman would.
I believe I know why great-aunt Illyna did not pursue her spellcraft. I have determined that our house has a powerful magical being somewhere in our ancestry. I do not want to write too openly of this lest the letter fall into unfriendly hands, but I will explain further when I see you next. The aspect grants an inborn skill with magic, and I feel the power of my blood grows with the experience of it's use. I do not regret this, I feel proud and blessed as the inheritor of our family's rare gift and I hope your view will be as mine. But my looks have changed some as my magic has grown and men may not find me as attractive as they once did.
If you and Uncle Gurev insist, I will entertain Kol's intentions once I am returned from Restov. But I caution you, I will make him see me as I am and not as he imagines me to be. You should see me before he does and I hope we will then decide together how to proceed.
I do miss you so, and I pray the days hasten until I can hold you in my arms and kiss the tears from your cheeks. Give my love to the family seek some happiness to buoy you up until my return.
Your loving daughter,
~Sera
When Kivan came in, she called to him quietly, hoping not to disturb the sleeping couple.
"Kivan, I've burned a hole in my dress in a particularly bad spot. Do you know some minor magic that can fix it? If so, I may need you to teach it to me if you will. I suspect I may have frequent need of it now that my tears run like acid." She shook her head ruefully, still regretting the emotional outburst as she pointed out the corroded hole in the fabric upon the bodice of her travelling dress. She still wore only her shift, but the elf had long since shown that he did not look upon his female compatriots with anything more than platonic regard, so she did not worry about the impropriety of it all.
|
|
Location: Hex S2 (Plains, South Rostland Road, Oleg's Trading Post)
Date: 21 Desnus, 4710 Absalom Reckoning
Temperature: 75° F
Weather conditions: overcast skies, moderate wind (16 mph from the south west)
Food: 14 days' supply
The next day dawns cloudy and windy, the rising sun appearing over the eastern wall of the trading post like a beacon leading you to your journey's end.
Despite the late night, the Levetons are up and about before you awake. The inviting scent of baking bread from the main house and colorful swearing from the stables give evidence as to their respective activities. The Free Irregulars are just leaving the common room as you drift in, jesting and bantering in the manner common to men at arms everywhere. Gael, the sergeant, tugs a forelock as you pass. Artus ventures a smile at Pretty. The soldiers head for the wall, and you proceed into the common room and the promise of breakfast. As you enter, Kesten rises from his place, empty plate and empty mug on the table before him. The nobleman approaches Seraphina and stands awkwardly before her for a moment before speaking in a low, quiet voice not meant to carry. "Forgive me, Lady Medvyed. Any offense I gave was from ignorance and misplaced concern. For what it's worth... I do not think you monstrous." In a louder voice, Kesten continues. "My men and I ride for home later today. I have perhaps been absent from my family's holdings long enough for a quiet return. In any case, there is business to attend to in the north. I bid you good-day, and following winds to ease your travel to Restov. I shall return before too long to pay you a visit, assuming you stay your intended course of inhabiting that old keep. Until then, farewell."
After hearing anything you have to say, Kesten follows his men out, leaving you in peace to enjoy your breakfast.
Svetlana does not disappoint. Hearty slices of steaming-hot bread topped with fresh butter and dill appear on plates alongside cuts of salt pork and blackberries. After you've been served, the lively housewife joins you at the table and nurses a cup of tea. "It's been but a few months since you ventured out this way," she says, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "But I hold you all as good friends regardless. Do promise you'll come back our way some time, will you? It gets a trifle slow out this far, sometimes. Needless to say you'll always be welcome here."
A little while later, Oleg stomps into the common room. "Your horses are brushed and saddled up," he notes. "I went ahead and stowed some vittles in your saddlebags for the trip ahead. All that excitement last night, I plum forgot to mention to you: That unpleasant nobleman Drelev and his lackeys came through here not two days ago. That's how I came to hold that letter, miss Pretty. They didn't stay long, which is just as well in my book. The lot of 'em can rot in the Pit for all I care."
"Now sweetie," interrupts Svetlana. "That man at arms of his, Numestri, he seems like a decent sort, just bound by duty to some right scallywags."
"Be that as it may, lass, I'd just as soon they keep riding. So, heroes, your loads are stowed for the journey whenever you decide to leave - and do not hurry on our account!"
After you make your goodbyes, you mount your long-suffering horses once again, their saddlebags bulging with treasure. With a final wave to the inhabitants of the trading post, you point your horses east to pay a visit to Bokken, the eccentric alchemist. With bags of fangberries and strings of dried fish, you're sure to satisfy the requirements of the deal which you have struck, and sealed with a handshake to Mr. Wiggles.
The mood is eager, but dampened by a little sadness as you put the gates of the trading post to your back. The ride takes most of the day, and you are provided with ample opportunity to think back on the events of the past few weeks and draw lessons from them.
After riding most of the day, the cheerful red door and thatched hut of Bokken's house spring up on the horizon. About half a mile from the property, you get the strange crawling-on-the-back-of-your-neck feeling as if somebody or something is watching you.
"I get the same impression, Svetlana. Not everyone in that party is bad, but well, walk aside bad folks and you're gonna learn something bad... Anyway, they were really fast in their charting procedure, so we better be careful. They are probably returning to report. Damn, we should have been faster!"
Pretty keeps riding as if nothing was wrong, but her eyes scan the place slowly, searching for something hidden close by.
"I'll be back, I assure you, Svetlana. I have nothing for me there, but here I have something to return to. "
-Posted with Wayfinder
Kivan walks in and seeing Idris and Bara in the same bed simply makes sure the assassin isn't trying to kill another member of his party before he focuses on Sera's question.
"Very well I can fix this with a few magic spells, but unfortunately I didn't prepare that spell today. In the morning I shall prepare it as soon as possible and fix it. I can also try to teach you the magic behind it. You will have to try and focus beyond what you blood simply tells you to do, and focus instead on what you want your blood to do."
Kivan wakes up early and sits down to prepare spells out of his spellbook. After fifteen minutes he quickly goes over and casts mending on Sera's clothes to fix them. Quickly making any holes in the fabric smaller and smaller until they are completely gone. He makes sure to show Sera the arcane gestures and words that he uses when he casts mending.
"If you try to follow those words and gestures you should be able to cast mending, and you will not need my services if something causes small amounts of damage to your dress. The dress should hold up for a while, and if you don't learn mending just call me if you need it fixed again."
Kivan looks around and just keeps himself prepared in case the eyes looking at them aren't friendly.
Seraphina looks much relieved when Kivan assures her he can and will repair the dress in the morning. She lays down to rest but her thoughts continue to plague her until they chase her into a dark dream.
She walked through the crowded streets of Stoneclimb, smiling and nodding to the familiar faces that turned toward her with warm recognition as she came within view. The square bustled with cheerful activity, almost as if the festival season had begun... but surely it was too hot for that. She tossed back the hood of her travelling cloak and wiped the sweat from her brow. She noticed a frantic movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see what it was. A man beckoned to her from the shadows of an alleyway and she had to shield her eyes against the sun to make out his features. It looked like Kesten Garess, but his panicked demeanor made him seem so strange, she doubted it was actually him.
Other movements flickered nearby and she turned again to see those familiar, welcoming faces turned fearful and angry as they now turned their eyes on her. She looked down at herself and realized she had relaxed and let her claws come forth. She tried to retract them, but they would not change back into benign-looking human hands. Kesten had given up the stealthy signaling, now screaming at the top of his lungs. "Run, Sera! Run for your life!"
But there was no path of escape available as the crowds closed in on her. She tried to speak to them, assure them she was no danger, nothing to be feared. But they would not hear her. Then the crowd parted and there stood Kol Garess with her own mother on his arm. "There it is, Lady Medvyed. There is the monster that consumed our beloved Seraphina!"
She smiled at her mother, calling and reaching out to her, certain that she would see the lie here. Positive she would recognize her only daughter, despite the changes. But she saw only cold fury in Viera Medvyed's dark eyes, no welcoming warmth, no recognition, no love. "Destroy it," she commanded, and the crowd closed in and crushed her under their feet and fists, her own brothers leading the charge...
___________________________________________________________________________
Sera woke in a cold sweat from the nightmare and laid with her face turned to the window, waiting for the panes to brighten with the sun. Soon she smiled to hear Oleg's trademark grumbling from the stables. Once the others had stirred she moved from her sheets and washed at the basin, and then set about penning the letter she had worked on last night.
She paid close attention as Kivan cast his mending spell and then instructed her in casting the spell. "Thank you, Kivan. This looks as good as new now. I think you've even repaired the road wear! I shall practice until I master the cantrip."
She dressed quickly and sealed the letter, pressing her signet ring into the melted wax. That accomplished, she smoothed her hair, took a deep, cleansing breath and proceeded to the common room.
Sera nodded politely back to the Free Irregulars and allowed herself a small sigh of relief as she saw Kesten there. She was tempted to drop her eyes as he approached, but dismissed the impulse for cowardly and instead forced herself to meet his eyes and face whatever she saw there.
The nobleman approaches Seraphina and stands awkwardly before her for a moment before speaking in a low, quiet voice not meant to carry. "Forgive me, Lady Medvyed. Any offense I gave was from ignorance and misplaced concern. For what it's worth... I do not think you monstrous."
She studied his features for a moment, trying to decide if she believed him on this last point. She lowered her voice too and replied, "There is nothing to forgive, you only gave voice to your thoughts. I should not have baited you so openly and then pounced in that manner. My mother's letter unsettled me and I was far more blunt than was fair to you. I told you when we met that we would be old friends soon enough, I would be unhappy to be proven wrong on that point." She smiled reassuringly, thinking how pleasant it was to be proven wrong on a more recent point, however.
Her smile fell away immediately and was replaced by a scowl as soon as Kesten revealed his own travel plans. She followed him to the door and grasped his wrist more tightly than was strictly necessary and peppered him with half-whispered questions. "You're leaving? But why, have you been recalled? Who will protect the Levetons? You know there is still a party of bandits out there somewhere... they could be on their way here as we speak. Surely you do not mean to leave your post undefended!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once she had let Kesten go on his way, she rejoined the party in the common room and tried to enjoy the delicious fare as she knew it would be some time before they partook of it's like again.
"Don't worry Svetlana, wild slurks could not keep us away for long, neither from your food nor your company. Do you want us to pick you up something specific from Restov, or should we just surprise you?" She raised her eyebrows mischieviously, daring the woman to argue.
"Which direction were they headed toward when they left here, Oleg?" She asked of Baron Drelev's party when the subject came up.
"I remember who you mean, Svetlana. Terrion Numesti, was his name. I quite liked him, myself, and had the impression the feeling was mutual. I'm glad to know he's still among the living, the Baron did not strike me as a man who would be conservative with his subordinate's lives."
___________________________________________________________________________
Seraphina was looking forward to seeing the eccentric old alchemist, shivering slightly at the strange sensation of watching eyes. She was all too aware of her warning to Kesten earlier as she tried to casually observe their surroundings.
|
|
Kesten seems entirely sincere to Seraphina. "My assignment was to safeguard the trading post against the local bandits. You've destroyed them, save for one group sent far north into Brevoy - the direction we are riding. I've some family business to attend to, and hope to add a few retainers to my merry band. I shan't be occupied overlong, as my family regards me as somewhat of a nuisance and embarrassment. Frankly, I find the courtly life as stifling as you do. Fear not, we shall keep a wary eye and ear for trace of this bandit party. Once the men have spent their pay and my family duties sated, I shall be at large again. I would give your regards to Kol, but as I do not intend on visiting House Medvyed I do not expect the opportunity!"
"Drelev was riding east along the road, towards Restov," Oleg explains. "I figger they got their area mapped out too."
You all scan for the cause of the unsettling sensation, but it is only pretty that spots a pair of beady black eyes watching you from the cover of a scrub bush.
Voic of any magical means to do so, Pretty attempts to pass a coded message to her fellows. "You know, when I first encountered Bara I felt her presence to my (direction of the creature)."
"Well, there are many types of love. There is the love of friendship, and sisterly love. But romantic love, well, that's something else altogether. It's a man and a woman who fall in love, marry, and have children. It's the natural cycle of humanity, and of life itself. Be careful not to mistake your desire for love."
"If that's what romantic love is, I don't want it -- Children are great, don't get me wrong, but I'd much rather be the one who protects them from the monsters and enemy soldiers than the one who bears them. I can't imagine anything that would result in me wanting to have a child. I wouldn't be much of a mother, for one thing -- always running off to fight whenever there was a battle to be fought. And sooner or later I'd probably be killed -- not that I want to, but because eventually it happens to nearly all warriors -- and then I'd leave the kid an orphan and that is NOT going to happen."
As no one seemed to have understood her, she was more direct. "There's something on the bushes shout of us." She stopped her horse and looked directly at the creature, not expecting trouble from it. "All right, you can come out now. Do it peacefully and you will be fine."
Kesten seems entirely sincere to Seraphina. "My assignment was to safeguard the trading post against the local bandits. You've destroyed them, save for one group sent far north into Brevoy - the direction we are riding. I've some family business to attend to, and hope to add a few retainers to my merry band. I shan't be occupied overlong, as my family regards me as somewhat of a nuisance and embarrassment. Frankly, I find the courtly life as stifling as you do. Fear not, we shall keep a wary eye and ear for trace of this bandit party. Once the men have spent their pay and my family duties sated, I shall be at large again. I would give your regards to Kol, but as I do not intend on visiting House Medvyed I do not expect the opportunity!"
Seraphina pursed her lips, seeming dubious in this logic, but the crease between her brows faded as she huffed and released the nobleman to go on his way. "Very well, we are all servants to our familial duties. But don't be gone too long lest you find your friend nothing more than an overgrown jackdaw upon your return." Her sharp tongue had said the words before she thought them through, so she quickly grinned and winked to offset the sting of tossing the man's own words back on him like a barb.
Then her eyes went wide as she fully realized what Kesten had said. "Wait... do you mean that Kol is in Stoneclimb? Now?!" Images from her dream swam before her unfocused eyes, Kol glaring malevolently with her mother clutching his arm, her gaze cold and unforgiving and Sera shuddered involuntarily.
___________________________________________________________________________
"Is it Mr. Wiggles, perhaps? Hellooooo?" Sera clucked her tongue affectionately as she did when calling or urging her mare.
Could it be Mr. Wiggles, as Sera suggested? An unsettling feeling coursed through Pretty's spine and she suddenly was looking around, searching for more than her eyes were seeing so far. She dismounted and started circling around the place where the hidden menace would be, keeping about 30ft from it, and trying to see what else was around, like signs of battle, or perhaps the scent of rotting corpses.
"The hell is that?" Idris says, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow.
Seraphina makes an exasperated 'tsk' sound as she dismounts hurriedly.
"Oh Idris, don't point that at Mr. Wiggles, you'll frighten him!" She plucked a dried fish from the string and moved toward the bush calling gently. "We brought some fish and berries for you and Master Bokken, Mr. Wiggles. Aren't you going to announce us?" She chuckled lightly and beckoned for the creature to come out for the treat. She was quite sure she was correct that they had come upon Bokken's dog-like raccoon friend, but she had caught Pretty's concern and now worried why the little fellow was not barking to alert Bokken as to their arrival as he had before.
"Careful, Sera, I don't think Coons make that sort of noise..."
|
|
"It is unwise to comment upon a lady's size," retorts Kesten, "no matter how feathered and enamored of shiny objects she may be. Until we next meet, Lady Medvyed."
Normal raccoons may not make that noise, but Mr. Wiggles is not an ordinary raccoon. As Seraphina approaches the bush with an offering of fish, a chubby, furred body trailing a ringed tail ejects itself in a shower of leaves and twigs. Mr. Wiggles streaks across the open ground, deftly snatching the morsel from her hand with tiny, needle-sharp teeth. One bound carries him to the stirrup of Seraphina's horse, and with a few scrabbling moments of climbing Mr. Wiggles sits triumphantly atop the saddle, tearing off chunks of the dried fish and wagging his tail against the polished leather horn. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The strange raccoon is content to stay on horseback as you continue, and the horse itself doesn't seem to mind at all.
It is only a ride of a few minutes to cover the remaining half-mile to Bokken's hut. You find the eccentric old alchemist kneeling amongst the simple garden beds which ring his house. A sizable pile of weeds beside him betrays his morning's activity. The plants have just started to become recognizable as anything other than the greenest of shoots, and it is solely Bokken's hand that keeps them from being choked out and dominated by the furiously growing invasive ragweed and milkweed that lay defeated in a heap, stalks piled like the fallen of a bitter war. About half of the old man's crop appears to be vegetables, the other half herbs.
As he hears you approach, Bokken sits up from his kneeling posture and sits back, dirty hands resting on earth-covered pants. He reaches to his forehead and drags down his battered spectacles, squinting to make you out. Mr. Wiggles unceremoniously abandons ship, plopping into the grass and scurrying to his master's side.
"There you are, thou damned beast! Think to run away from home, do you? Does your life of leisure weigh heavily upon you? Does your fat belly smart under the ample bowls of food piled upon it? Eh? To think, all this kindness and you'd abandon me forever! And playing with strangers, to boot! What have I told you about talking to strangers, eh?"
The raccoon endures the lecture without comment. Bokken pauses. "Wait, I remember you lot. Not strangers, after all. All is forgiven, Mr. Wiggles! But do not think I shall increase your retainer for your duties as wilderness guide!"
The old hermit creaks to his feet, tugging a forelock and getting dirt in his sparse hair. "Fancy that, y'all dropping by to chat wit' liddle ol' me. If'n I'da known, I'da put on my good clothes. Come in, come in - wipe your feet - th' kettle's on!"
Bokken flits into the house. When you follow, you discover that the kettle is indeed on, and quite ready to serve if the insistent whistling from the spout is any guide. A pleasant fragrance from the tea permeates the cluttered, unorganized room. Bokken quickly fills a collection of (mostly) clean clay mugs and sets them in front of his visitors. Mr. Wiggles flops over to the fireplace, rolling on his back to get an itch and kicking softly.
"Now I plum can't remember last time y'all came by this way t'see ol' Bokken. How's the gold pannin' comin' along?"
Pretty finds it easy to talk with this simple man, for some unknown reason. Even Mr. Wiggles seems to improve her mood. Oh wait, she knows the reason. "Indeed it was too long ago. 33 days ago, if I'm correct. We are on our way to Restov, and made a little tour to see how were you doing, and to leave some fish and fangberries, although I know you wanted the fish fresh. We had to scout some plains, and thus we took longer than expected to come back. We will try to bring the fish fresh, next time." She smiles to the man, certain that he won't mind.
She looked up, recalling their travel in her mind. "Our travels have been pleasant. After our last time here we found a grave close to the watchpost, then an abandoned temple of Erastil. We fought the boar of legend, heard tales of a nymph, met two of the weirdest fairies I've ever seen, almost got arrested, met a tiefling druid, killed the Stag Lord and his troupe of bandits, removed traps from a forest, then found the trapper dead by one of his own traps. We tried to have a conversation with some Boggards from the southwest, but that didn't work out. Then we found a statue of Erastil and a nest with some Tatzlwyrms in it. The sad part came when we found a dead unicorn, killed by some disgusting magic. We found your fangberry bushes, passed by the Sootscales and grabbed some fish, then a couple days later we saw a Roc, an enormous bird." She finally catches her breath. "Time flies."
"It is unwise to comment upon a lady's size," retorts Kesten, "no matter how feathered and enamored of shiny objects she may be. Until we next meet, Lady Medvyed."
Sera made a comically exaggerated squawk of feigned indignation and swatted the nobleman's arm for the implication, but her smile truly reached her eyes this time. She was relieved to see he would still rise to the bait, since his overly formal and terse manner were worrisome.
She bowed her head in farewell. "I pray for your safe travels, my Lord."
As she returned to the table, her hand sought the sealed letter to her mother from her pocket, but then she thought better of it. Kesten had not answered her, but if Kol were indeed in Stoneclimb... she did not want him forewarned of her impending visit home or her altered state. She held onto the letter, rather than post it now.
___________________________________________________________________________
Seraphina laughed gleefully at Mr. Wiggles' antics. "Oh ho! No simple 'coon is he! Yes, he is a rapscallion, usurping a Lady's seat. Yes, you are! A clever scamp, indeed!" She scratched behind his ears dotingly.
"It will be a long march to Restov with you two jumping at shadows." She said grinning to Pretty and Idris as they proceeded on to Bokken's.
The raccoon endures the lecture without comment. Bokken pauses. "Wait, I remember you lot. Not strangers, after all. All is forgiven, Mr. Wiggles! But do not think I shall increase your retainer for your duties as wilderness guide!"
"Don't worry, Master Bokken. I've already compensated the little mercenary. He's a shrewd bargainer, to be sure."
Once inside, she sips her tea and watches with ever widening eyes as Pretty's summary rolled on. When it concluded she said, "Gracious, you do have a talent for synopsis, Pretty! Well, that explains our recent tale. I hope we have not brought you news of late friends. I know you must be acquainted with many who roam these wilds. It is good to see you well, sir. How have you fared these past weeks?"
|
|
Bokken listens politely to Pretty's tales. "I reckon y'all been keepin' fair busy then. Thought I remem'bered summat about panning fer gold? Guess not. My ol' noodle gets twisted up an' confused sometimes!"
The old man shakes his head with a rueful grin, then stands up abruptly, pawing through the goods you've brought him. "Very well then, to business. Lets see, fangberries indeed, good ripeness, quite a quantity at that! I hope none came to harm among the thorns. Top show, I was nearly out and had but dried specimens on hand. My thanks for the fish as well. I don't get out much these days, and crawling on the riverbank looking for fishing holes plays hell with my knees. So - my payment."
Bokken retrieves a knobby cane leaning against the door jamb and fishes under his bed with it. Incongruously, the bed is neatly made in stark contrast to the general disarray of the rest of the hut. A burlap satchel appears, clinking softly as Bokken drags it over uneven floorboards. The old alchemist deposits this bag on the table in front of you. Inside are several of the same clay bottles which he provided you earlier.
"There we are then, as promised - the other half of my payment for your services. Take special care with that one there with the cork tied down - I had a real banger of a batch with that one. Good for what ails you, but it'll put hair on your chest and then make it fall out. Prob'ly good fer firestartin' too, if'n y'all find yourselves lost in th' woods and no kindling."
Bokken smiles gently. "Well it were awful nice of y'all to drop in an' visit ol' Bokken. I won't hold you youngsters up, I remem'ber how danged busy I was as a kid in the ol' days. The exch-uberance of youth!"
After saying farewell to Bokken, you return to your horses and set a northeasterly course to return to the South Rostland Road. You pass an uneventful night on the open prairie, breaking your fast with Svetlana's lovingly packed provisions.
In the morning, you strike out for Restov once more. The road has clearly seen better days. At one point it had been paved with smooth cobblestones but age and traffic has reduced them to gravel. Only the two courses of stone that define the road's boundaries remain, and even those are under serious assault by moss and grass. Wagon ruts cut paths through the gravel, favoring the center of the road for its superior condition. Still, it's a road, and your progress is swifter upon it than it would be forging a trail through the trackless wilderness.
Ahead, you catch sight of other travelers - two horses on the road, heading in the direction of Restov. As you draw closer, you realize there is just one rider, and he is leading a pack horse while a large black dog trots at their heels. They travel slowly since the pack horse is heavily laden. Hearing your own party behind him, the man stops his convoy and calls "Hail, good travelers. Are you headed for Restov?"
As you close the distance between your two groups, you get a better look at the traveler. Scraggly black hair that could use a thorough brushing frames his delicate face, and a hint of stubble grows on his chin. His eyes are the emerald green of the spring's oak leaves, and his ears end in points. Garbed in greens and browns with a mottled gray cloak, he would be difficult to spot in the forest. A scabbard hangs from his belt and a bow nearly as tall as he is is strapped across his back.
He beams, clearly excited to see you. "I'm Milo Silverbrush, and this is my dog, Nix." The black beast studies you silently with its yellow eyes. Milo continues "I've caught all the minks and ermine that Star and Comet here can carry. So we're off to Restov to make our fortune!" Both horses are indeed weighed down with rolls and bundles of furs. "Don't get many travelers on the Road, these days. You must be the heroes that Oleg told me about. Would you mind a bit of company?"
Pretty mentions that they are going to Restov and asks if Bokken needs anything from there.
Pretty once more finds her tongue speaking for herself with the hunter/merchant, but she ignores the dog. "Oh, so you're Milo? Pleased to meet you. I'm Pretty. Oleg told us your name, and he actually mentioned that you keep Restov up to date on minks and ermines, and that you come by every couple of months. Guess it's a coincidence we met here. How long did you take to get fully loaded this time?"
"That's quite a dog you have there. Where have you been doing your trapping?"
"I wouldn't mind some company on the road."
"Do not worry, Master Bokken. Your recollection is on point, we did find yet more evidence that prospecting the rivers would be profitable. We simply have not found the time to take advantage of it. Did you have need for raw gold? As Pretty says, we'd be happy to acquire some items from Restov, if you like." Sera knew little about what alchemists used for reagents, but she liked the eccentric fellow and wanted to offer what help she could.
___________________________________________________________________________
"Well met, Master Silverbrush. I am Seraphina of House Medvyed. We are indeed on our way to Restov, and would be glad for the company. Your canine companion looks a formidable guard and he appears to take our measure. I trust you keep him well fed?" She grinned jovially, but her eye was drawn back to the watchful beast all the same.
"Does the fur trade keep you well? Rather a ranging lifestyle, is it not? You must have seen much of these lands in your travels." She asked, engaging the man in polite conversation.
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Location: Hex S2 (Plains, South Rostland Road, Oleg's Trading Post)
Date: 22 Desnus, 4710 Absalom Reckoning
Temperature: 69° F
Weather conditions: overcast skies, moderate wind (18 mph from the south west)
Food: 14 days' supply
"Aw, now what would a feller like me do with gold? Caint eat it, nor drink it, nor grow my garden with it. I s'pose I could throw it at that lazy, good-fer-nothing dog o' mine!"
Mr. Wiggles is oblivious to the prospect of being pelted by nuggets, being far more occupied with ensuring the cleanliness of his undercarriage.
"If you're going to Restov, though, you could be of service to me. I ran out of glassware long ago, and have had to make do with clay jugs scooped from the riverbanks. It would be quite difficult to ship a crate of jars and bottles out this way, but I'm sure I could brew up something to make it worth your while."
"I got out here in Kuthona. It was a warm winter, so the stoats were frolicking in the good weather, right into my traps." Milo chuckles and gestures to the stack of white furs piled on his pack horse. "After Gozreh pushed back the snow, the beavers and minks and elk and such came out. All the creatures that keep Restov warm through the winter."
"Yup, Nix is well fed and well trained." Milo snaps his fingers and Nix trots to his side and lays down. "She's the reason I'm not bringing back a load of jerky with all these furs. To be honest, Lady Medvyed, this is the biggest expedition I've had. I've been lucky enough to find leather workers and tailors in the past. I hope they'll find homes for these fine skins too."
"Early in the spring, I heard word of and saw signs of some bandits, but they were much farther south. I steered clear of them - seemed like they traveled in large groups when they were out and about. Haven't seen hide nor hair of them recently, but I mainly kept to the deep forest where they're not likely to go. It's where the fur is to be found, as well. I've seen a thing or two on these lands, but less than you'd expect. Mostly run the same game trails again and again. Winter in the Stolen Lands doesn't leave you time for much besides surviving!"
Milo seems eager to have companions and listens with interest to your stories and tales.
Pretty takes note of the glassware Bokken wants, so they could buy it in Restov. "You got it Bokken."
Pretty seems disappointed that the man is not a leather worker as well, since she wants to find someone to improve this garb of hers. "So you haven't heard? We've dealt with those bandits, so you should not have further problems in your expeditions. There is still a bandit scouting party left behind, but they probably fled south since there was no sign of them near the old fort."
"Tell me, Milo, did you know the one called Breeg O? Can you tell us about him?"