Hescoy is the scene of organized chaos as the occupants of the town anticipate the 100th year anniversary of their town. Everyone is busy with one task or another in the preparation of the festival, whether it's baking food, setting up the carts, or avoiding their taskmasters. If one walks the streets at this time they might see Taisalin, a street preacher to the idea of atheism, atop a cart and the small crowd of people that are listening quietly just to make him feel important. Or you might even see one an older man with a pack of wood on his pack, hoping to sell the cut wood and make a copper before the festival.
Aside from the buzz of the city, there sits a smaller log and thatch home near to a small pond and at the edge of the forest. Inside is the designated meeting place for our very own intrepid heros and heroines, and waiting within is the two men, Jerry and Simeon, packing their supplies.
Abby's journey is short and uneventful, having been relatively close to Hescoy in the first place. She intentionally skirts the city proper, approaching the designated meeting place directly from the forest. She turns to consider her two traveling companions. Lashy has strayed to the pond and is chasing a dragonfly about, while Snowy has remained in Abby's shadow.
"Lashtail!" she calls out.
The small raptor freezes, the dragonfly forgotten upon hearing her name, and cranes her neck to look back at Abby.
Abby pauses, seeming to deliberate on the best course of action. After a long moment, she approaches Lashy, with Snowy following dutifully. Abby stops just a bit short of Lashy.
"Snowfeather," she starts, "Come around here." She points in front of her, next to Lashy.
roll + ability + rank + class skill
The second raptor stares at Abby, cocking his head this way and that. The leader is making mouthsounds that he doesn't really recognize, but the pointing is fairly clear. He moves around to stand next to his mate.
Abby smiles at this small victory.
"Alright, now I need you both to stay here by the pond while I go inside. You understand? Stay." She holds up an open palm.
roll + ability + rank + class skill
Command Snowfeather to perform Stay trick (DC 6)
roll + ability + rank + class skill
She starts to walk away, but then turns back, holding up her palm once more. "Staaaayyy," she reiterates. She begins walking backward away from the pair, still facing them with her palm still held out. "Staaaaa-" Her heel catches a stone, and she seems to lose her balance. Snowy tenses, but Abby's palm remains out. "Stay!" she intones, managing to regain her balance.
Now a few score feet away, Abby turns again towards the small cabin. She stops, relaxing her body, and takes a deep breath. Steeling herself, she makes her way to the door, reaching initially for the handle, but stopping and knocking timidly instead. As she waits for someone to come to the door, she fidgets awkwardly, leaning lightly against the door frame and absentmindedly cracking the knuckles on her right and then left hand.
There are few things your average bandit wants to attack more than a solitary warrior. They're almost always going to fight, and kill, at least a few of your people. If there is something that a bandit wants attack less than a lone warrior, it's one who towers at over seven feet tall and wearing full plate, with a great blade as tall as many men resting on shoulder. And if there was anything that a bandit wanted to attack less than that, it was a seven plus foot lone warrior carrying a greatsword and bearing the symbol of Gorum prominently.
As a result, Crow had to occasionally hunt down the small bandit groups that occasionally preyed on less promising targets. The bounty on their heads, and the items and gold in their possession, would pay for whatever Crow needed during this little stay. Not a great fight, but there were enough that it wasn't a slaughter, either.
But the last group had been a couple of days travel before, the scars and dents healed from his armour like they had never been. Once again its skin was a smooth green-tinged grey that shone in the light with polish. The massive red cloak hung from his shoulders to his knees was swung back, since Crow didn't feel the cold much, and he entered the town.
He remembered the stares. There were more, now. Crow the Farmer's Son had been a known, even with the rumours. But he was taller now, bigger in the armour he wore. The town felt small, constrained, like an old set of clothes that no longer truly fit. But the resentment was gone too, the old bitterness that they judged him different. He was different. Now, he simply accepted it, and there gaze splashed off his armour much like the bandits blows had.
He stopped for a moment to listen to the atheist preacher, Taisalin. The man's rhetoric was...insipid, pointless. The Gods were real, the Gods accepted those who understood the path they set out. It was mortals who failed to accept others. Crow shrugged his vast shoulders and continued, out the other side of town, towards the cabin where he was to meet the other.
It had been some time since he'd looked forward to anything much beyond the simple pleasure - a comfortable bed, a good meal and the fury of a true fight - but he was looking forward to this. Unlike in town he even took off the great helm, so they'd know who he was.
Outside the cabin it is lush with green grasses and the occasional bush. A setting sun peeks up from behind the mountains, making the pond water sparkle beautifully. The sound of chirping crickets and the babbling of the brook that feeds the pond permeates the entire area.
The sounds of nature are broken by the the sound of the heavy wooden door being heaved inward and open. Firelight from within illuminates a tall, sun-tanned man wearing animal pelts and a bushy beard that is easily recognizable as Jerry Winthrop. He squints out into the darkening sky. I could've sworn I heard someo- his eyes lower and he catches sight of Abby at the foot of the steps.
Abbicka! he yells out happily, going in for a hug. His beard twitches and a smile can be seen below.
Further inside there is a roaring fire that illuminates the room, and a table with another man sitting next to it. The skinny, black-haired man wearing a new tunic looks up from the bag he's packing. He's fairly pale, though on closer inspection you notice that it is a sprinkling of flour that makes his face so white. He nods and shows a grin before going back to putting food into two different packs.
Jerry bounds down the creaking wooden steps in a single stride and gathers Abbicka into his arms before squeezing her and setting her down. He chuckles deeply and then is suddenly distracted by a figure coming down the road. Crow, is that you? he calls out. My gods you've gotten big. Jerry jogs down the dirt path to meet crow. It's so good to see you, my friend! You two are the first to get here. I wonder where the rest have gone to.
Persephone walks through the forest, crunching leaves and twigs under her feet. She tries for a moment to count how many days it had been since she last stepped foot in the town of Hescoy, and can't. "I haven't found that I've missed it," she admits, looking at the goat walking beside her.
A gift from her mother, Persephone was told the goat's name was Black Phillip, and she had long stopped bothering to attach a lead to him. When he wanted to follow he would. When he wanted to stop, well, there wasn't anything she could do to drag him along. Still, he was generally agreeable, as he was now.
She frowns, thinking of the town that lay ahead. "It isn't that there is anything wrong with it," she explains, "but I feel like I've rather... outgrown it? The last... oh, however long, with you and mother in the forest has been so different."
Realising that her adoptive parents would be wanting to see her, she pauses. "I'd forgotten about them. Does that make me horrible? They raised me and I do love them so, but... oh, how to make them understand... Maybe I've outgrown them, too."
With a sigh, she absently places a hand on Black Phillip's head, ignoring the shiver that runs down her spine as she does so. The two of them step from the forest and into the clearing, the pond and cabin visible. "Oh! There's Jerry." She lifts her hand to point ahead. "Looks like some of our friends have already arrived."
Black Phillip walks beside Persephone, stares into the distance, listens to her, and bides his time.
The young dwarf had come a long way, through rain and muck, hot days and cold nights, tall hills and overflowing creeks. But travelling is a bit of a 'thing' for Spooky. Along with his frenetic energy came a nasty case of Wanderlust and the itch never took more than a few weeks to set in. The longer the stay the worse the itch. It had been a long stay and it took a long time to relieve the itch. The things that would cause most to complain loudly barely even phased Spooky. His frail looking body, unusually thin for a human much less the dwarf he was, was as tough as adamantine. But he knew he had to get back soon. Besides the master's demands, there was the 100th birthday of his adopted home. And old friends of course. There were sure to be old familiar faces popping up and loud boisterous fun to be had.
So it was the Spooky found himself hurrying towards town. Not that he went anywhere any way else. His feet moved even while he slept. Made it hard to sleep sometimes, but then he needed very little sleep anyway. A blessing and a curse, particularly when you grew bored easily.
There it was, he thought as he came into sight of the home they were to meet at with a strange... raptor staring at the door. could it be... ?
"ABBICKA!"
"ABBICKA BARROWFIELD! Is that you?"
As if freed from its leash the dinosaur darts toward Spooky and pounces on him. The frail dwarf lands in a splat, though unhurt, letting loose a pealing laughter. Snowfeather then charges toward the house, wheeling about as if showing Spooky the way, and dashing into the home squealing a greeting as if introducing the new arrival, looking all proud of itself.
Smiling, th gesture crinkling his eyes at the corners, Crow replied, "I am told I have grown a little, yes. Only a touch, mind you. A smidge, perhaps." Stretching with a crack of bone and a squeak of protesting iron, Crow's smile became a grin.
He glanced as the Dwarf and Changeling and nodded with a smile. "It is good to see you all again. Perhaps I am not the only one who has changed a smidge since we all last had a chance to talk." It was good to see them all, although he didn't remember having to crick his neck quite so much to see Abbicka and Spooky.
"Oh, uh, h-hey Jerry..." Abby offers, averting her gaze. "How've you, uh, be-" she starts to say, raising her hand as if to wave and closing her eyes.
Abby offers a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of her head with her left hand. "I-it's good to see you again," she mumbles.
Once Jerry's attention shifts, Abby awkwardly skirts around him and makes her way inside. She nods to the other man before taking a seat on the floor near the hearth. Closing her eyes, she takes another deep breath, letting the air out slowly to center herself.
Abby cringes a bit as the sudden outburst breaks her reverie. "Aye," she calls back too weakly to be heard by those outside.
Abby stands when Snowy enters the house. "Snowfeather, no!" she cries out. "Not on the wooden flooring! You'll scratch it all up!" Hurrying to Snowy, she pats him roughly on the nose. "You know better than to come in doors." Pointing outside, she adds, "Go back out and stay with Lashtail. I'll be out soon, and we can play then."
Command Snowfeather to perform Stay trick (DC 6)
Snowy lowers his head in a pout, and slowly makes his way back out to the pond, lying down next to Lashy.
Lashy, who has taken this opportunity to take a nap, nips a bit at Snowy as he disturbs the grass by her. Once Snowy has laid down, Lashy places her head on his, nuzzling him a bit, and then returns to her nap.
Abby watches Snowy from the door as he makes his way back to the pond. Seeming to remember where she is with a start, Abby turns to Jerry and bows her head, locking her gaze with the floor. "I'm so sorry about the floor," she apologizes, her voice somewhat muffled. "I don't know what got into Snowy. P-please let me know how I can make this up to you." She remains locked like this, head down and eyes closed, awaiting Jerry's judgment.
For clarity, I'd appreciate it if others players not control or otherwise roleplay as Lashtail or Snowfeather. I'm fine if you guys want to interact with them, and once the Hangout is set up, I'm extra fine with coordinating back-and-forths and the like, but I'd really rather other players not directly control either of them, in or out of combat. Thank you.
I was really hesitant to do that thinking you might feel that way. Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. It was just too good of a set up at the time, but I'll refrain in the future.
"Hello friends. Anyone hungry?"
Spooky's usual greeting announces his arrival.
Early morning in a gaudily decorated wagon on the side of the road. A young man is stowing away his equipment:
”I have finished the burns ointment ... again. Why it always sell so well? I should make another batch. It will sell well, people will get scalded while cooking at the fair. And then there will be will be the fireworks ...”
Look a blackboard with some symbol on it, in the corner of the laboratory:
”I should work on the ULTIMATE HOUSE HELPER, people will love it.”
almost subconsciously he use a prestidigitation cantrip to clear some spill on the workbench.
”All put away and secured, now clear the camber pot, brush the mules ...why I can’t summon a team when I need it and send it away when they have done their work? There should be some spell for that.”
He make a note on a piece of paper of his idea and pin it to a board, together with teens of other slips of paper.
Later, while he his harnessing four mules to the wagon, a large black cat approach him with a bird in his mouth.
”Hi Nero, you have caught something good? I hope it wasn’t a mother.”
A wave of indignation come from the cat.
”Good, you know the rules. And remember, when you meet my friend Abbicka, you should memorize who are her pets and be friendly with them. She always has some kind of poet. not as smart as you, but they are family for her, so they are friends for us.”
- * - * -
Later, when they are in sight of Hescoy Hamlet, the young man change from his work clothes to a flamboyant cape and ornate dress. He drive his wagon toward the fairy grounds and approach a guard.
”Sir, I would rent some space for my wagon for the duration of the fair. Possibly near the well.”
The guard: ”For that, you should have booked it a month ago. I don’t know you from somewhere?”
”ouch” ”probably, I am Marika Sobachesky son.”
Guard: ” Illyan? I see why you want to be near the well. What will burn this time?” The guard point to an area in the far corner of the fairground, well away from any other stall. ”There, that area is available. Ten golds for the whole period of the fair.”
”Oh well, at least my wagon will be perfectly visible. Here is the money. ”
Illyan move his wagon to the designated spot and set up shop, then put a big signboard on the door of the wagon: OPENING THIS EVENING
”Nero, come with me, we will find the others, now. ... Oh, look, what he is selling!”
Half an hour later a weave of irritation came from the cat.
"You are right, we should go. A pity, you can often find some bargain when people is setting up."
The two leave the fair ground in search of Illyan friends.
Almost as if Simeon had expected Spooky's statement before it began, he offhandedly tosses a brown paper package. Simeon looks up and gestures to the package now in Spooky's arms, You can thank my wife for that. Wait, I don't think you know her yet. Anyways, I can introduce you to her when we get back. The smell of some kind of berry pastry wafts up from in between the folds of the parcel. I have some more that were supposed to be for later tonight if the rest of you want some.
Now turning to regard the Abbicka, Simeon laughs quietly, I doubt that Jerry would care about another scratch in the floor. He probably wouldn't even notice if the raptors left a little chocolate pie. As he finishes his remark, he gestures over to the pile of various pieces of clothing, food, and tools spread about the edges of the room.
Having finished putting the parcels into the pack, Simeon stands to his feet and dusts off his hands. If we leave within the next couple moments, then we should be able to get to the crest of the hill before they start setting off the show. What do you think, Jer? When should we leave? He says the last bit with a raised voice, trying to get his compatriot's attentions from outside.
Too true! Too true, my friend! Jerry says emphatically, gripping Crow's right shoulder with his right hand, and (attempting to) give a playful squeeze as he speaks.
In fact, since you've all been gone Simeon's gotten himself a woman and a-a-a what's it calledd... Jerry stops for a second, and you can almost see his brain working to remember the word. oh yeah, a bakery. He didn't get em' in that order though; I think that she only seemed interested in him once he owned the place if ya ask me. he says, his voice trailing off at the end.
Once Persephone gets a bit closer, Jerry breaks the silence that has ensued. Is that goat comin' with us lot? I don't think that some goat would follow us, and I don't wanna be chasing him in the dark.
You know, a couple days ago when I was out checking the traps, I saw this HUGE green-striped beast with quills and claws just sniffin' at the coon that was caught. I took off runnin' back 'ere, but i think he saw me.
Jerry replies quickly, Eh, I figure that we have some time. should leave in the next couple. There was a bunch more of the old group that we wrote to, but the only other ones that we recieved a letter back from was Illyan and Turiel, and you know how Illyan gets when there's the fair. We might have to leave a note for them to meet us there.
Spooky takes a nibble from the pastry. His bites become larger as he progresses and he makes short work of his snack.
"Oh, my, yes. I needed that."
When he hears the word bakery his already eerily large eyes grow extra large.
"A BAKERY!" Oh, gosh, am I jealous. Was this from your bakery?"
He says 'bakery' like he is almost tasting it, letting it roll of the tongue slowly.
"I'm ready to go when you all are. I've been looking forward to this for some time - besides, I'm still hungry and I've brought enough coin to sample just about everything they got."
Green-striped beast, huh? Sounds like a problem we are going to have to deal with eventually. But not quite yet, I hope. Better not say anything about it or we might get side-tracked.
Abby turns to regard the state of the cabin. She lets out a nervous chuckle, compulsively rubbing the back of her head again. "I see..." She trails off, anxiety still evident on her face. "Well, I apologize, nonetheless." Her voice grows quieter as she speaks, being barely a mumble as she finishes.
As Simeon's attention shifts outside, Abbicka steps out from the door frame and onto the porch proper. She leans heavily against the house, closing her eyes and taking another deep breath.
roll + wisdom + rank + class skill + trait
After a few moments, she opens her eyes once more, stands up, and then makes her way to the pond. "Lashtail, Snowfeather, good job staying put. It's almost time to go." She pats Lashy and then Snowy, delicately running her hand over their crests. "You can both hunt once we get up the hill. But no straying too far, ok?"
Lashy stares up at the leader. The only mouthsounds she recognizes are "good", "stay", "go", and "hunt". From proximity, she surmizes that "good" and "stay" go together, and she recognizes this as praise from the leader's tone. Lashy likes praise. She nuzzles up to the leader, and is rewarded with pets. Lashy loves pets. "Go" and "hunt" are different. Lashy knows those mouthsounds, but they are not commands. Later, maybe?
A yell from outside:
I think so, I see a light."
Before Illyan has even completed his phrase the cabin door open and Abbika appear on the porch.
"Hello Abbi!."
Illyan peer inside:
"Wow, there is most of the old gang here. Guys, this is Nero."
he points to the big black cat following him.
"Nero, meet Simeon, Jerry, Spooky, Abbicka, Crow and Persephone."
Nero seem to study the people in the cabin with eyes a bit too shrewd for a simple animal. After a couple of seconds he approach Abbicka with a purr and start rubbing on her legs.
"Jerry, your floor is a mess. As usual. You want an hand cleaning it? Tomorrow i can load the right spell and we can have a servant clear it while we drink a beer."
"Oh, uh, hey Illyan!" Abby calls back. She squats down as Nero approaches her, reaching out with one hand but letting the cat choose where it might want to be pet. "Well hello there, Nero." she cooes.
Nero offer his chin to Abbicka to get it scratched.
"Be careful, if you let him, he will colonize your lap. And a 16 pounds cat become heavy after a time.
There is a interesting theory that say that cats can increase their weight after they have been on your lap or your chest for a time, but, while I agree that you feel like that is happening, there is no evidence of a real increase in weight."
A muffled, unrecognizable voice for the cabin "Oh gods, he has started up again.".
Illyan: "Uhm, yes. The fireworks?"
Spooky glances at the mess and offers "Looks like he's just packing. My place always looks like that just before I go on a trip. Good to see you old friend. Hey Simeon opened a bakery! I know how you are always on the lookout for new stuff to sell. Maybe you can help each other out?"
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Persephone grins at Jerry's story. "Quills and claws? You're lucky to still be with us!" She laughs, and nods towards Phillip. "Don't worry about chasing him none, he's smarter than some people I've known."
Looking around as the others arrive, she can't help but notice the tiny lizard creatures, nor the large cat that accompanies Nero. "Pet friendly bunch, aren't we?" She mutters. Noticing that the other animals have an aversion to Black Phillip, who only stands and stares, she wonders for a moment why she doesn't have a more... lively animal accompanying her.
She shakes her head. No. Phillip was right for her. He was solid, stoic, taking everything in stride. She heard once that goats could eat anything, even human bones. She shudders at the thought, wondering if that's something Black Phillip would do. 'The important thing,' she thinks, trying to get her mind away from the topic, 'is that he can handle anything.'
Shurgging massive shoulders with a clank, Crow smiled. "You shall have to show us all where it was, later. Perhaps we can rid the village of such a beast before it causes anyone too much trouble." He nodded to the small pack of animals. "I am sure they can help with tracking."
Rubbing his chin, Crow added, "Simeon has a wife now, eh? I am happy for him, and his business. It must be nice for him to have settled down." Crow didn't see the appeal, himself, but then even people who liked him were...intimidated...by the idea that he was as large as his build suggested everywhere. As a result, intimate relations were few and far between.
He certainly didn't see the appeal of staying in one place, but he heard many people's wanderlust ended as they grew older. Maybe he would think differently in five or ten years.
"A pity we don't have time to whip it up in the kitchen. I miss our cooking and storytelling."
Crow sighed a slightly dreamy sigh. "There was much food. So much food. Except that one time, when we got everything wrong, and were banished from the kitchen because 'it was time to stop making good food cry.'" Grinning, Crow shrugged. "It was impressive to see soup burst into flame."
"I have seen some fancy restaurant where they do that routinely (well, not with the soup) and no one complain. Au contraire, as they say, people pay a lot of money for that."
Illyan look spooky.
"Magic pastries Spooky? Max, a guy I know, make then. He taught me a simple trick. Here is how it work:"
He cast Prestidigitation, create a crude imitation of a muffin full of honey and flavor it as the real deal.
"Try this, it has the taste of the real stuff but has no nutritional value. It last only an hour. He make a lot of them for parties of high society ladies that want to stuff their faces without gaining weight. But it is not good stuff for an honesty bakery, it is fake food."
Simeon laughs knowingly at spooky's proposition and walks to the doorway to better be heard. After a bit of help from Illyan selling the food I know that my business would grow so fast that I wouldn't be able to keep ahold of it. No, I think it better this way. Besides, I like a small bakery; it makes it so that I can invite friends over to 'help' cook- he says winking. You know, without all the presuptious bakers from this town I would have to hire on getting in the way.
Turning his attention over to Illyan, Simeon continues, The fire thing would be interesting I wager. IF it does end in disaster though, I do recall that we could always sell just about anything to my older brothers that we didn't eat ourselves. Do you guys remember the 'empty soup' we made!? Just water, and both Doug and Jerry gulp it down like it's the most hearty thing they've ever eaten he says grinning
Overhearing this, Jerry turns to regard simeon, his face now beet-red. I think I must've been just really thirsty at the time.
"An empty belly creates the best spice," Crow added with a shrug. You'd eat anything that would fill you, if you were hungry enough, and enjoy simply not feeling hungry any more. Given he typically needed twice as much as most men to feel full, he was familiar with being hungry. "But now I can boil far superior water."
Crow sighed a slightly dreamy sigh. "There was much food. So much food. Except that one time, when we got everything wrong, and were banished from the kitchen because 'it was time to stop making good food cry.'" Grinning, Crow shrugged. "It was impressive to see soup burst into flame."
Defensively, Spooky says, "Everyone has to start somewhere. I just put a teensie bit too much dwarven whiskey into the broth. It still tasted good. At least I thought so. I don't see why everyone got so upset."
..."Try this, it has the taste of the real stuff but has no nutritional value. It last only an hour. He make a lot of them for parties of high society ladies that want to stuff their faces without gaining weight. But it is not good stuff for an honesty bakery, it is fake food."
"Well, I have the opposite problem. Keeping weight on is always difficult for me because of my ridiculous metabolism. Speaking of which..."
Spooky pulls his cold iron shaving razor and starts trimming his hair and tossing it into the fire.
[b]"Spooky, are you willing to try a thing? The spell I just used is weak but very versatile, I regularly use it to wax and trim my mustaches. I am way more precise this way than by hand. I have never tried it on another person, but it can't harm anyone. Are you willing to let me try it on your hair and beard?"[b]
Illyan wait for Spooky reply with eagerness.
An elf picks his way through the crowds of Hescoy, leading a horse carefully through the bustling villagers. Tall, over two meters, the elf cuts an imposing figure that's oddly out of place with the cheery villagers. Dusty from the road, his long traveller's cloak doesn't conceal a veritable armory hanging from his belt and backpack. His breastplate shines dully through a layer of road-caked grime, accentuating broad shoulders and muscular arms. Turiel, distracted as he tries to remember the way to the cabin, is oblivious to the many glances his appearance is drawing from the villagers. An old woman, sitting in a rocking chair and darning a sock, tuts disapprovingly as he walks past. "What in the name ... armed to the teeth before the celebrations..."
Turiel doesn't seem to hear (or perhaps he ignores) the trail of muttering and disapproving townsfolk that he leaves in his wake. Once clear of the village, he mounts his horse and starts her to a canter with a gentle flick of the reins. Patting her neck, he says, "Not so very long now Kipina. It should be just up the road a little ways. Here's hoping they've laid out something cool to drink. I didn't think we'd make it in time but you've done well. Taking that last job might've been imprudent, but the coin and the supplies it bought were welcome."
The road passes along the edge of the village, and it's only a moment or two before the familiar cabin comes into view as he rounds a familiar bend. It's been a while, but it doesn't seem to have changed. A stirring in a newly discovered corner of his mind, "This place? It is important to you?" Still unused to the sensation of hearing another voice in his mind, Turiel jumps in his saddle, nearly tipping out of his seat. He nods, then realizing that might mean anything to the... presence... he replies mentally, "Yes" The presence subsides, apparently satisfied.
As he rides closer, he sees his friends, seen only in memories these last few years, outside the cabin, chatting. Smiling happily, he calls out in a booming voice, I got a bit tied up dealing with a few goblins. Illyan, Spooky, good to see you! And you, Crow, Persephone... Jerry." He waves, "And you Simeon. Am I the last of us or were there a few other stragglers?" Spotting the raptors, he nods and looks around, finally spotting Abbicka, "I'd have been surprised if you were late, Abbicka. Good to see you too!"
"Spooky, are you willing to try a thing? The spell I just used is weak but very versatile, I regularly use it to wax and trim my mustaches. I am way more precise this way than by hand. I have never tried it on another person, but it can't harm anyone. Are you willing to let me try it on your hair and beard?"
"Why not. It can't be worse than shaving with cold iron. That's nasty stuff."
"I never understood cold iron," Crow mused, "I mean, most of the blessed metal is quite cool as it is. I feel I am missing something."
"Good, how you prefer them? Short, middle length, spiky, tinted? The last two will only last an hour, but you can do funny things."
His banter notwithstanding, Illyan is conservative in trimming spooky hairs and beard with magic. In a brief time he do what will require half an hor to a good barber.
While he do that he continue to speak, this time replying to Crow comment.
"Cold iron is a state of the materia magica in the iron. it happen when you gather iron in the deep of the earth, in locations with a high pressure and a strong connection to the elemental plane of earth. If you work it using as little heat as possible you can lock in the finished item the energies is gathered, instead of dispersing them as happen with the normal forging procedure. That make the iron somewhat magic resistant and adverse to some creature magical nature ...."
He continue with is explanation at length, going in ever more convoluted and esoteric details.
His friends have learned to tune him out when he do that.
He stop his conference with Turiel arrival.
"Hello Turiel, how is going? Long time not see!"
"I've never really thought about it. I just need to cut it all the time or I start looking like an abyssal bush. Do whatever you like. It won't matter in a few hours anyway. "
"Hey Turiel. You made it just in time. We're headed out to enjoy the festivities and fireworks. Unlimber yourself, and we can go soon."
Abbicka remains seated by the pond amidst her raptors , content to watch the others' antics. Seeing Turiel arrive, she waves, and then rises to her feet, lightly dusting herself off. She looks to Jerry and Simeon, a light smile betraying a sense of expectation, but remains silent.
Seeing Abby stand, Snowy is quick to join her, rising to his feet and taking a position at her side, craning his neck to nuzzle against her shoulder.
Lashy is disturbed by the movement, opening her eyes, taking in her surroundings, but remains lying down and otherwise does not move.
Simeon disappears back into the house for a moment while Jerry replies to Turiel. Goblins you say? I haven't seen any of those in a fair bi-oof! a pack slams into Jerry, leaving him without his breath and nealry toppled. Simeon reappears at the door with the other pack slung across his back. Well we should probably leave now if we want to get there before the show.
His hands on his knees and slowly breathing, Jerry shakily raises to his full six foot height, glaring at Simeon. I'll get you for that
Now both laughing, the pair chase each other down the forest path and into the midst of the great trees of the forest, rapidly fading from view. The cabin door remains open.
Nero approach Snowfeather and Lаshtail with a peaceful posture, leaving them the time to adapt to his presence. He occasionally look Abbicka to see if she seem alarmed.
Spooky loks at the others and says
"I guess that's our cue. Off we go then. last one out the door closes up!"
With that Spooky shoots out the door, his small legs pumping furiously as he tries to catch up.
Crow remained by the door, making sure everyone left before closing it. With legs as long as his he had little trouble keeping up, even in full plate. Although stumpy for someone his height, his legs were longer than several of his companions were tall.
Abby remains calm, holding out her hand as before to let Nero control the petting. "Lashtail, Snowfeather, this is Nero. Nero is a friend." The two raptors each take turns sniffing the cat, but otherwise pay it little mind. "Friend," Abby repeats.
Seeing someone handle the door, Abby starts off after Jerry and Simeon. "Come on, Lashtail, Snowfeather." she calls. The two raptors follow closely.