Desző follows the impressive Northener into the front room, admiring her garb and musing, "Could that mammoth outside be with her? How intriguing!" He proceeds through the door held open by the songman, oblivious to any rudeness therein and flashing an oddly cheerful smile as he passes. Desző thinks, "What ease he has with people. It must be easy to look as he does."
Braegan likely notices the tiefling moves with a surprising grace, and also the strangely deliberate swayings of Dezső's buried tail, as well as that his feet are cloven hooves.
Once in the room, Desző slides along a side wall and observes the scene unfold with intense curiosity. Very careful observers might notice his tail wrapping around to the front of his body, perhaps to the area where a sword might rest, if he wore his sword on the left. His left arm hangs by his side and his right hand absentmindedly fingers the stub of a horn on the side of his neck.
”I don’t think—“ Braegan begins, intending to stall Chiquq from interfering when the … horned man walks through. Realizing he’s staring, Braegan covers the possible blunder the way he always does, with a smile.
Not knowing what else to do, and smart enough not to get in the middle of things when blades are drawn, Braegan breaks eye contact with Dezsö to skirt the room on his way to the Noisy Naga’s proprietess.
”Um, ma’am. What’s going on?”
Eyes swimming with the sensation of comfort and warmth being broken by unwanted stress, Imendri stands and walks toward the sounds of struggle and frustration. He walks right through the doors, unceremoniously approaching the young man who's wielding the blade, his own Shield already on his arm and sword hand hovering above his hilt.
"Yuur make ink a hole lot off noise now, yuu no. Wat in de hell is all off dis? Huh!?", he points to the man's sword. "Yuur go ing to put it away, hmm?" he says, leering down at the upstart. If Chiquq's common tongue is accented, Imendri's is downright garbled. Not waiting for much of a response, Imendri speaks up again. "Yes, det's de answer yuur look ink for. So do eet and we can all haff a moment to talk like not-animals."
Imendri tilts his head just a slight bit towards Chiquq. "Are you good. Wits sharp? Muscles strong?"
The presence of the various imposing Kellids, tieflings, Ulfens and whatnot, plus Imendri's tone, is enough to cause the younger fellow to waver. Kerissa quickly and deftly knocks the blade from Jurik's hand, causing it to clatter to the floor, and the hunter collapses, sobbing.
The proprietress kicks the blade away as Voss dusts himself off, grunting. "Thank ye, sirs and madam, but I'm not sure he's one for much talking," Kerissa says in a surprisingly gentle voice.
"Well, that was unexpected," says Voss. "My apologies, and Jurik and I will have a conversation indeed." He nods to Kerissa, then notices everyone else a little belatedly and also nods his thanks.
You notice that a small chunk of ice that has fallen to the floor and is touching the spilled beer is slowly but surely freezing the beer, in tiny delicate frost patterns.
Chiquq shakes her head in bemusement at the scene playing out. "What bad thinking entered his head?"
In an aside to Imendri, she murmurs in their own tongue, "I am well, brother." A little wryly, she adds, "And you? Not drank too much of their southern beverages? For it looks like there is a hunt-trouble afoot. Look at that ice."
Chiquq walks closer, her brows drawn together as she crouches by the puddle of beer. As she observes it, the expression on her face grows darker and more concerned.
"What is this ilisiinneq ?" she hisses softly, her body tense now. It was one thing to hear ignorant south-men talking about ice not melting, but this? It is, by Chiquq's standards, damned hot here in Taldor. For ice to melt slowly is one thing. For ice to be cold enough to spread its freeze?
Chiquq backs away from the little pool. Once several feet back, she mutters more words, her fingers forming a loop that she looks through with one eye.
Dezső slowly approaches to stand next to Chiquq in front of the ice. He pokes at the ice with his tail. (In Taldane:) "Curious. Most curious."
Kerissa and Voss notice the ice as well, and the tiefling (who certainly draws attention, once noticed). Jurik shoots a righteously angry look at Voss, then bows his head. "I was scared...I ask for your forgiveness," he says to Voss.
Voss shakes his head. "I was a fool. Kerissa, I shouldn't sell this to you. We need to throw it away...burn it. Certainly don't throw it in the Jalrune, it'll freeze it from bank to bank." he chuckles at the joke, but no one laughs and he ends his guffaw with a stern cough.
For a moment there is silence; then Kerissa grabs a broom and dustpan--and a knife to crack the ice off the floor--and gets to cleaning up the spilled box. She talks to the floor as she works.
"Ye know...Old Mother Theodora come by yester'een. From Heldren, like you, singer," she says with an unseen nod to Braegan and a shrug of her large fram. "Said dark times was upon us. And there's another Ulfen in Heldren, like you and your auntie, came in the morning on the edge of the wood, saying something about ice and sayin' he was guardin' a Lady...Lady Malassene, it were. I didn't put the things together, but talk of frozen ice in high summer, and here we see it stuck--" she removes some ice with a crackkk "--on MY floor, consarn it, and a Lady of the court dragged away by some frosty creatures what bit and scratched this Ulfen..." She rises up, stretching her back, and looks Braegan and the others in the eye. "Seems you'd better be getting back to Heldren. I'll give you another shot at singing in two weeks. Somethin's goin' on."
Kerissa has drawn a crowd from the riverfront room--you find yourself surrounded by curious patrons. Kerissa swears imperceptibly quietly and then says, in her loud bar voice, "Frida! Tap the new Blackwood keg! FOLKS! ONE FREE HA'PINT, ON ACCOUNTA MIDSUMMER!"
The crowd erupts in cheers, not caring that Midsummer was three days ago, and immediately begin to bustle about, as Voss eases the box out the door as quickly as he can.
Dezső is thoroughly confused by Kerissa's commentary, and can only vaguely piece together the suggestion offered to Braegan and his aunt (and is she suggesting the witch is the singer's aunt?) -- but this seems like exactly the kind of mystery he's been looking for. He has all this information in his head -- facts and numbers and names and formulae floating around... Ever since he left the confines of the University, he can almost physically feel all of the information in his head trying to organize itself, trying to sort itself into some form he can access and make use of... He's concluded that real life experience is the secret ingredient missing, and here a bona-fide puzzle has just landed in his lap.
Dezső stands straight and announces in Taldane in a loud, clear voice: "I will accompany you, singer man, and help you get to the bottom of this puzzle!"
Imendri watches Kerissa clean up for a bit before he realizes he should've offered to help.
Then, he continues to stand there, large, awkward, and in the way for a few seconds before speaking. "...ehhhm, Keh reesa. Where's dis Ulfen now? He already went beck to de Nort?"
Chiquq backs away from the ice, gazing at the red-skinned man without much friendliness.
"And who are you?" she asks in her thick Taldane. "Or what are you? To say you will join with a stranger?"
She had almost said, to stick your nose into our business, but she realizes that it... is not actually her business. Unless she makes it so. Imendri's words make her scowl.
Chiquq pulls out a small sliver of whale bone from a belt pouch, and picks at her teeth with it as she watches the singer-man, and the red-skinned man, and her distant kinsman as well. She doesn't like the ice; her soul wants to go far away from it and its wrongness. But sometimes one must hunt...
Dezső turns his attention to the hunter and responds in Hallit, albeit a Hallit that, while grammatically correct, sounds like it is spoken by one who has never before heard Hallit spoken aloud: "Everyone in these lands is a stranger to me. What difference does that make? I am interested in getting at the bottom of this mystery, and I have no commitment that stops me from doing so. I am free, and can be of use. Why should I not?"
Chiquq's eyes narrow at the strangeness of hearing her own tongue spoken so oddly.
"What you do is your own will," she says, sticking to Taldane. "But you look like a creature of evil your own self. Maybe you should ask if others want you, rather than tell them what will be."
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"I guess... we all speak our people's tongue," and Imendri nods to Chiquq. "It's a good enough sign. A singer and a scholar, albeit one with devil blood? Demon blood? You, red-man, what's your name? What do you do? I fight, and I pray to the Goddess of beauty and travel, Desna. I am Imendri Hears-the-Old-Ones, and yes, I do hear them. Every day." He looks haunted for a second, but without malice or overt fear.
Axolotl: With my INT, I get a lot of languages, why wouldn't I pick Hallit?!
My name is Dezső. I will switch to speaking Taldane, so I can best explain myself, but I understand Hallit well, and it pleases me to hear it. It is good to make your acquaintance, Imendri. Yes, a devil inserted itself into my bloodline. I know not when or under what circumstances. But I am not a creature of evil. I control my destiny, not the taint in my blood.
I come from far away, from the city of Lepidstadt in the Principality of Ustalav. I grew up at the University and, whether by its influence or my own nature, and probably both, I am a seeker of knowledge. I am well-acquainted with The Song of the Spheres, who has many followers among the Varisians in my land. In Ustalav, Pharasma, the Lady of Graves, is the most fervently worshipped of the Gods. But I have found my own thoughts pulled to Irori. I cannot claim to be on the same path of enlightenment as his devoted followers, but I find myself drawn to using my knowledge to uncover the hidden, and I feel there is also a purity in that."
"I suppose the singer and his aunt can themselves decide whether they want my help. But I do intend to investigate the mystery of this ice. And that path seems to lead to this place Heldren. If it makes them uncomfortable for me to travel with them, I can make my own way."
Braegan is momentarily stunned by the developments . Then he seems to try to shake it off, looking between Jurik, Kerissa, and the strange ice.
At mention of Heldren, the young singer’s features are cast with concern. He looks back through to where Mahb and his sisters sit, wishing the old woman were here now. Putting that aside, he turns back to Kerissa.
”Did Mother Theodora say anything else? Who is this Ulfen? Where were he and this Lady coming from? Or going? And what kind of frosty creatures?” Realizing Kerissa might not know any of these, he finishes with a final question to the barkeep. ”Is Mother Theodora still around?”
Dezső stands straight and announces in Taldane in a loud, clear voice: "I will accompany you, singer man, and help you get to the bottom of this puzzle!"
The question draws Braegan’s attention away from the tavern keep, and the young man stands for a few seconds, unsure how to respond. Finally, with an awkward glance between the horned man and Chiquq, he gives a partial smile, ”It’s nice to meet you, Dezsö. I’m Braegan Hightown.” He doesn’t offer a hand to shake. ”I’m definitely headed that way, and I won’t turn down anyone who genuinely wants to help Heldren. I’ll be honest, though, friend, they might not know what to make of you.” Feeling the need to justify the statement, he touches his own head as if he were touching a pair of horns, then shrugs.
Trying to lighten the mood, he glances between the two Kellids and the strange horned man as he switches to Hallit.
”Though we are all considered strange when not in our own home, no?” He holds his smile plastered on his face, willing his levity to cut the tension. He turns to Imendri, staying in Hallit, ”Well met Imendri Hears-the-Old-Ones, though in strange times. I am Braegan. Song-maker.”
He switches back to Taldan, ”I … uh … I should get my aunt. She’ll have a thought or two about this.” As he goes to retrieve Aunt Mahb, he mutters, ”She always has a thought or two to speak … asked or not.”
In a few moments, he returns and heads to stand next to Kerissa. He’s recaptured his charm and bravado, which he directs every bit of towards the blocky woman. ”Thanks for the chance to sing on your stage, ma’am. I had a blast. I’d love to return in two weeks,” he finishes with an off-hand casualness, ”We can decide details of payment at that time.” He winks, ”Maybe I’ll have some timely new sagas of slaying ice creatures and saving damsels in distress.”
He gives Chiquq and Imendri an appraising look, switching back to Hallit. ”Many of your people are known for hunting and tracking. Would you be able to find track or trail of what happened in the wood on our way back?” It doesn’t seem to occur to him that going through the wood would possibly put the group in danger of the same ice monsters, ”We know not what news the Ulfen brought to Heldren with him, and the town-chiefs will want to know all they can of what happened there.”
"It is good to meet you, Braegan Hightown. I am aware that my appearance causes many discomfort, and I do not blame those who assume my appearance dictates my nature. I am patient, and I hope from others that they may provide me an opportunity to disabuse their misunderstandings. It pleases me that you welcome my assistance, and I assure you that I will not by my conduct give your kinsmen additional cause for alarm."
: "I too, Madam, am most interested in what answers you may provide to the astute questions posed by Mr. Hightown."
Chiquq crosses her arms and leans back against the nearest wall when the song-maker briefly vanishes. She has yet to give her name to any of these people, and she's debating whether or not she wants to. Her gaze keeps returning to the spot where the bad ice had sat on the floor, freezing the puddle around it.
The red-skinned man's words do little to assuage Chiquq's suspicions. Like all southerners, he talks too much. The song-maker also talks a lot. Chiquq side-eyes Imendri, thinking.
He seems interested, and... he is family, however distant. There is a kin-debt between them; if he goes to face a danger, and she does not walk with him, that is a bad road. One's souls can rot, like that.
The bad taste lingers in the back of her throat, like sickness fought down. If there is an evil, then... the path of an animal is to run, but the path of a person is to hunt. Chiquq sighs to herself the concluding of all her dark thoughts.
"We track. We hunt," she says with a shrug to Braegan's question, speaking the south-tongue. Very briefly, she smiles. "But usually, for southerners... it is for pay."
Chiquq pushes off the wall, uncrossing her arms. "I am Chiquq. I will not give my whole clan name at this point. If you desire a tracker, I will come."
: "Good to meet you Chiquq. I hope in time I will win your trust."
"No-o, Theodora's back to town today, sayin' her sooths. And Braegan, aye, we shall. We could use more songbirds in these parts, less of that Qadiran yodeling," says the barkeep, her eye fixing on Jurik. Prejudices die hard in these areas...
She turns to fill up many a thirsty cup, and you are left with your thoughts in the bustling crowd, the bits of ice crunched into inconsequential bits beneath many pairs of boots.
Braegan, yes, you and Mahb know Mother Theodora well. She is the local soothsayer, and also wanders here and there and sells small charms for good luck. Whether they do anything is another matter.
Braegan goes to fetch his siblings and 'aunt', and in due time you are standing outside the Noisy Naga, two Kellids, two Ulfen, admittedly of local fame, various tittering girls, and a red-skinned tiefling. Townsfolk give you passing glances that linger slightly longer than usual. The day is still young and warm; you'll be back in Heldren before dinner if you stroll quickly.
When the charming, young, singer returns to the back room he is trailed by his opposite - a foul and stooped old crone. She takes in the people with a sweep of one black eye and gives them little further regard. Even the Tiefling draws less of her attention than might be expected. Having been briefed by her nephew, her eyes immediately fall to the cracked eldritch ice on the floor. She clucks at it and pushes a chunk around with the toe of her worn shoe before snatching it up, eyeing it closely, then smelling it. She drops the ice fragment in a pocket with a satisfied grunt. Whatever thoughts she may have are hidden behind her prune of a face.
The old woman seems oblivious to the on-going discussion, totally engrossed with the strange ice and her own thoughts. Only when the others fall silent and Braegan gives her 'the look' does she offer "Mahb." which is presumably her name.
As they set out towards Heldren, Mahb lets out a harsh whistle. A hoary raven flaps from the tavern and lands on the hag's head. It quickly settles onto the tangled mass of grey hair and begins weaving the hair into an informal - and none too clean - nest. Its black eyes, eerily similar to the old woman's, watch the group.
: "Good to meet you Chiquq. I hope in time I will win your trust."
"We will see," Chiquq answers neutrally. When Braegan's elder companion joins them, the Kellid woman gives her a measured nod, respect-for-her-years joined with her innate wariness of strangers.
"I must collect my companion," Chiqu says, and disappears briefly to the stable. She returns leading a creature that is vary rarely seen, this far south: an immature [url=http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/mammoth-2.jpg]kiligvak, the great beast of the north that is like the elephants of more southern countries... save that it is covered with thick fur. The animal is a beast made for the cold-- and she is losing clumps of fur down here in the southlands, panting with open mouth, moving sluggishly.
The creature stands nearly as tall as Chiquq at the shoulder, a little smaller than a horse, but with more mass... but it's still young. It's also laden with saddlebags and gear.
"Ila can carry some of your things, if you wish," Chiquq says to the others. "Let us travel."
"Very fascinating to meet you Mahb. My name is Dezső. I was hoping you were the aunt Braegan was referring to. What is your raven's name? I noticed that the two of you have a very close relationship."
Subsequently, Dezső can't conceal his curiousity and excitement at seeing Ila: "What a beautiful animal! You say her name is Ila? Can I say hello, or does she share your skepticism of strangers, at least the red, horned variety?" Dezső makes a gesture like holding his hand to be sniffed, but awaits Chiquq's response before approaching Ila.
"And thank you for your offer for Ila to carry equipment. I travel pretty light, so I think it is unnecessary. But if I slow us down carrying my own pack I may take you up on the offer."
As the group heads out towards Heldren, Dezső is enthusiastic about getting to know more about anyone who will tolerate him -- most likely Braegan and Imendri. He'll ask Braegan about his songcraft, and ask Imendri about the voices he hears.
Chiquq purses her lips in a little frown at Dezső's query of if he can say hello to Ila. Ila, however, is not so circumspect: the junior mammoth trundles forward, questing with her trunk at the outstretched, red-skinned hand. (Chiquq harrumphs to herself.) However, there is no apple or carrot or bit of sweet hay in Dezső's palm, meaning that Ila loses interest in short order, and the trunk-tip retreats, nudging at Chiquq instead. The mammoth makes a plaintive, distressed noise.
"Yes, my friend, I know it is hot. Stop that, you had all the grain you wanted at the stables."
Chiquq walks in silence, keeping pace with her furred friend, and darting occasional looks at Mahb's raven. The creature looks around with more intelligence than Ila, Chiquq has to admit.
"less of that Qadiran yodeling,"
Braegan laughs, ”Always good to be appreciated.” He gives her a final friendly nod as he turns away, ”See you in a few weeks.”
He makes his way out of the tavern, smiling warmly as Mahb joins them, and giving the bird in her hair a laugh. ”Frænka. Pye. I guess we’re cutting our trip short.”
Braegan ignores (or has forgotten) the discomfort between Dezsö and the kellids, giving Chiquq another of his winning smiles when she introduces herself. ”Chiquq of the mysterious last name. I’d pay you but,” he spreads his hands helplessly, ”starving artist. Heldren will thank you for your help regardless. I know it. Plus—”
His eyes try to jump out of his skull, and he nods to the shaggy elephant thing. ”Nice to meet you, Ila!” he says with open enthusiasm, nodding along to Dezsö’s greeting to the kellid woman’s quadruped companion. ”I’ve never actually seen a … um … what is she?”
He follows along as they begin their quest back to Heldren, suddenly realizing his astounding lack of manners. He looks over at his sisters. ”Everyone. This is Birgitte and Lairne. My sisters.” It’s plainly obvious that they are not of the same blood, or even the same nationality. Braegan has the look of the north while the sisters have a traditional Taldan look. ”Birgitte, Lairne, meet Chiquq, Ila, Dezsö, and Imendri. They’re headed back to Heldren with us.”
He gives a warning look to the group. Don’t mention the danger, it seems to say.
"Very fascinating to meet you Mahb. My name is Dezso. I was hoping you were the aunt Braegan was referring to. What is your raven's name? I noticed that the two of you have a very close relationship."
The old woman raises a furry - possibly skeptical - eyebrow. "Close?" She chuckles unpleasantly, "He's a dreaming demon and the wary should fear the day he wakes fully. I do." That said, she casts her good eye up at the beast perched on her head and pokes at it with a dirty nail in a not-unfriendly fashion.
She growls at the bird, "He wants your name."
The rough-feathered raven pecks at the hag's offending finger - hard. Disconcertingly, it thinks about her words and regards the Tiefling with its shiny black eyes. Its voice is grating when it emerges. "Pye-waaaacket." it asserts forcefully before adding a more cautious phrase, "...Burning One."
Chiquq walks in silence, keeping pace with her furred friend, and darting occasional looks at Mahb's raven. The creature looks around with more intelligence than Ila, Chiquq has to admit.
On the third such look, the watchful raven's head turns and he croaks, "Whhaaaaaattt?"
The trip to Heldren passes relatively uneventfully, at least, no bar fights or strangely growing ice manifest. Travelers give the small group a wary look or a familiar nod, depending on whom they notice first. The road meanders along the Jalrune, with the Border Wood always to the North. As you walk, the Border Wood grows closer to the road; normally this is an innocuous thing, but for some reason, it makes you shiver slightly. Fortunately, it does open up again, to reveal farmland, and dark woods beyond.
This respite of a few miles ends, and the farmland thins into larger collections of huts and cottages, within scraggly edges of the Wood themselves, and then you are at Heldren, a small town that Braegan and his sisters call home, and Mahb calls...near her dwelling place. It is built right up against the borders of the Wood, and many buildings are made of stout Taldan timber, the kind no longer seen in many parts of Taldor due to over-cutting. Heldren is a small place, made up of farmers, herders and woodcutters and the merchants who trade their goods onward (even to Qadira). You can hear the noise of the sawmill, fed by a channel off the river, near the south entrance, as you head towards the eastern entrance.
As you move toward the village square, you can see Old Mother Theodora's place on the outskirts of the 'inner city', and you can hear the noise of the Butcher's yet-to-be-butchered livestock. Past those buildings the edifices grow higher and grander, culminating in the impressive City Hall tower and the town square, with the statue of "The Lady".
midsummer—it even snowed in the Border Wood!
Most suspect magic is involved, and some fear
Qadiran agents played a role in it.
stealing from his fields. His farm lies closest to the
Border Wood, where half his crops have died from
an icy frost and the rest have been carried off.
through the ice over Wishbone Creek. The boy said
he spotted a white stag in the forest—and heard it
talking—then tried to follow it.
saw a giant white weasel on the High Ridge in the
forest. No one believed him so he went back to trap
it and prove them wrong.
past Heldren on her way from Oppara to Zimar to
meet her betrothed. Rumor has it the two didn’t
get along and Lady Argentea caused a scandal by
calling off the engagement and returning home.
Upon arriving in the village, Mahb sniffs the air and scowls a deeper scowl than the one almost permanently plastered on her sour face. Muttering, the hag heads off on a hobbling circuit of the village, checking in on the folks that openly do business with her - and plying them for information. An unwelcome spectre, the hag coerces even more rumors of happenings around Heldren from the nervous children she corners at play.
Chiquq offers a small smile in return to Braegan's charm, but it is obvious that the discovery of the ice has dulled the easy, open enthusiasm with which she bought the singer a drink.
"In my people's tongue, she is called a kiligvak," she says-- even if they all speak Hallit, it's not a word that is often heard by southerners. Little reason for it to be. "I do not know the Taldane word. Elfant, I think?" Chiquq shrugs.
She gives a small nod to Braegan's other kin, and a sharper look at the bird when he speaks. Definitely much smarter than poor Ila. A spirit trapped in the form of a bird, then? The old woman said as much. Chiquq bobs a small, respectful/wary nod to the bird.
"No offense was meant, spirit. I did not understand your nature," she says, cautiously. Spirits should be treated with respect... but it is foolish to trust them.
***
Chiquq is foreign to Heldren, and has no familiar faces to call on, no one to eavesdrop on their talk. She stays close to her mammoth, making sure the poor beast gets enough water to drink, in the heat.
"No offense was meant, spirit. I did not understand your nature," she says, cautiously.
The bird makes an oddly pleased rattling cackle-purr deep in its throat and settles down on its impromptu hair-nest, half-closing its eyes.
The old woman lets out a hrmph and glances up toward the unseen bird on her head before looking back at Chiquq. "Now, you've done it, girl. You've fed the cat a dozen mice. I'll be hearing about your 'proper respect' for a fortnight at least." Despite her hard tone, the hag seems both slightly amused and a shade less frosty than before.
The self-satisfied bird gives the old woman's head a half-hearted peck. "Daaaaaaamn right."
Along the walk, Braegan had spent the time telling the outsiders about Heldren. Its people. Its stories. Its quirks. And, as they begin passing the people Braegan recognizes, especially as they get towards the outskirts of the small town, he spends a few minutes chatting with each. They’re friendly, innocuous conversations, with Braegan putting each of them at ease … as is his way. And they always ended with the other person a bit more cheerful, and Braegan having a bit more information. Every time, he shares what he’s learned of the town’s most recent events.
As they walk into Heldren proper, Braegan’s usually warm demeanor is turned in on itself, and he chews his lip in thought.
”There certainly is something going on,” he mutters as he pulls his clothes coat jacket tighter. Then he gives a nod towards Theodora, ”Should we go talk to our old soothsayer? Then find out what Heldren’s leadership thinks?”
Chiquq's face becomes more drawn as Braegan relates what he has heard. "Ice on streams-- and snow? In midsummer? Even in the lands of the linnorms that would be an unusually cold summer. Down here in your baking heat, it is certainly not natural."
She shrugs at the question. "You would know your townspeople better than I, but the wisdom of the old should be considered. Let us go to your soothsayer."
"Pleased to meet you, Pyewacket." "One of my ancestors was a burning one, but I can assure you I am not. It seems one such as you should look beyond appearances..."
Out of respect for the sensitivities of the townspeople, Dezső tries to hang back as much as possible. He tries to gather information through a method of close observation he's been trying to master...
... so far with little success.
He listens with great interest to Braegan's discoveries, and follows the group's lead.
"Pleased to meet you, Pyewacket." "One of my ancestors was a burning one, but I can assure you I am not. It seems one such as you should look beyond appearances..."
The bird only blinks. Mahb chuckles, "He was talking about coloring - not heritage. Good thing you're not fat or he'd be less poetical."
"My mistake. Unfortunately, I often misunderstand things that are said to me. I'd like to think it is only because I spent so much time within the confines of Lepidstadt University, but I'm not so sure..."
Imendri remains quiet for much of the trip. Here and there, he'll sidle up beside someone, smile a somewhat unnerving but not dishonest smile at them, and then continue his silent observation of the world around them.
Upon mention of the name of kiligvak in Taldane, he nods with certainty and chimes in with "Hem, yah, sister. Det's Ail-font. Mmhm." He smiles proudly at the idea that his cousin is as learned as she is.
Along the way, he seems to maintain fine pace despite being heavily burdened with a very large pack - in it several belongings including a tent, heavy duty blanket, and additional clothing meant for mountain climbing and wintery environments. Every so often he'll slow down, though, and take a look at a berry bush, or some fruit hanging from a tree.
...and it doesn't seem he finds anything delicious or edible - though that doesn't stop him from tasting those things anyway. Each time a satisfied grunt comes from him as though he has cataloged another failure which he intends to avoid in the future.
He doesn't seem to even notice when the bird speaks, any of the times it does, but just as the group enters the outskirts of town, he strides up beside Mahb with a grub in his hand, and holds it out to Pyewacket, saying "Eet's for birds, I fink. Yuur also like fings for birds too?"
The door to Old Mother Theodora's swings open before you reach it, and the milky-clouded eyes of the soothsayer pass over you all, seeming to look into your souls. "Ah, here you are. Yes. Come in, come in, I've made tea. Five as expected, the beasts notwithstanding. Mahb," she says to the witch, giving her a familiar nod. Theodora is similarly stooped and aged, although in more of a grandmotherly way, if not for the eyes.
Her cozy abode is full of the scents of cinnamon and sandalwood and other aromatic bark, and five cups of tea are already poured on her table, the harrow decks put away. She picks up two scraps of curling willow bark, not bothering to read the scratches she has placed there, but reciting from memory. " 'Twae of near but of the ice, twae of ice drawn near, and one with the blood of the pit. Darkness lies ahead and the ice grows.' Humph. Wrote it down several weeks ago; didn't know what it meant until now. Braegan, you've been touched as I have by fate; I'm not surprised you're part of this. Mahb, you have something in your pocket. Might I?"
As she putters around, shooing people to the table, she eyes the other three. "And you three I don't know. I mark you as Kellids and you as of someplace with many musty books. Sit, drink tea, and then you have an appointment with Ionia Teppen; she's the leader of Heldren's council." It's not clear to Imendri, Chiquq nor Deszö exactly how she sees what she is doing--she almost seems to be blind.
The sleepy bird's eyes snap open at the offered grub. It deftly plucks the juicy morsel from the kellid's hand and downs it with a clack of its heavy beak.
"Yeess, thankkks." the raven chuffs amiably as it wipes the remnants of the kill from its beak into the hag's hair.
Mahb returns the soothsayer's convivial nod. "Been an odd sort of day, 'Dora. Tea will be nice." The old woman takes a chair and swirls the tea while her eyes dart around to the various tools of Theodora's trade - professional curiosity coming to the fore.
" 'Twae of near but of the ice, twae of ice drawn near, and one with the blood of the pit. Darkness lies ahead and the ice grows.' Humph. Wrote it down several weeks ago; didn't know what it meant until now. Braegan, you've been touched as I have by fate; I'm not surprised you're part of this. Mahb, you have something in your pocket. Might I?"
Mahb sets her cup down and digs into her pocket, speaking matter-of-factly, "The first bit is simple enough, though I think Pye's beak'll be bent that he ain't in your prophecy." She examines the prize loosed from her pocket once again, looking for any signs of melting on the eldritch ice chip, before handing it over to the other woman.
Dezső eyes Mother Theodora and the room with curiosity, and shows great surprise to see himself referenced in the prophecy. He's also surprised by Theodora's comment that he comes from "someplace with many musty books," and seems oblivious that the comment might have a supernatural origin. "You're right about me, wise one, but my time with books isn't normally the first thing anyone notices about me. What detail tipped you off? Is there some lingering smell of must on my clothes? What an observant nose you have." With that, he sits for tea, sniffing curiously at the tea, and and his shirt.
Braegan walks into the old woman’s house, giving the place and her disconcerting white eyes a look before finding his place at a table. He listens, his face hardening at mention of being ‘touched’.
”So,” he says, looking between the two old women, ”ice is coming,” He shrugs. ”Any idea what what means? Unseasonable cold. Thievery along the northern fields. White stags and giant white weasels. It dens’t take a blind person,” he starts at his own insensitivity, ”to see something is happening around here.”
"Much obliged, Mahb," says Theodora, gesturing for everyone to take their tea. She scrutinizes the ice chip over a few sips, then taps it to her tea spoon, watching it stick and freeze to the utensil. She clucks her teeth. "Seems to like turning water," she says. "Well, there are deserts and there are rocks, but even there, water is everywhere. This will spread." She eyes each of the guests in turn, even Pyewacket.
"Prophecy is blunted as you know, gone into the Eye of whoknowswhere, just as Time has gotten a bit looped and loose like tangled yarn," Theodora says, with a nod to Mahb. "No, I don't truly know what it means, Braegan; I just know bad things lie ahead and you are meant to head toward them, not away. First things first. Your tea, and tell me where you found the ice. Then, off to Goody Teppen. Whatever this is, your order of business is to posse up--that means form a team blessed by the Council, dear Kellids--and look for this lost Lady. I do believe you'll find more ice. That Ulfen will be with Teppen as well."
Theodora winks at the tiefling. "Can't give away all my secrets. Your book learning will develop, worry not."
Braegan looks uncomfortably at Mahb, then takes a sip. ”The ice was brought into the Noisy Naga by some guy back in Demgazi. Caused a bit of a stir, too. Some guy nearly got stabbed because of it.” He shrugs, ”Or something. I was a bit late to the party.”
Imendri scratches his unruly plaits of hair and dips his head before entering, nodding, and walking quietly to the table.
"Warm kitchen and cup of hot tea, between every glorious battle or three." He smiles confidently at everyone before wrapping large hands around a small cup and daintily sipping the hot beverage.
"Sow, wat's de fing wif dis ice? Eet's gods or somefing?"
Chiquq is torn somewhat between unease and respect at the fact that the seer seems to have foreseen their coming. Having spirits and such forces in one's business is a little disconcerting, but... well, one follows where the hunt leads. She clutches her tea with both hands, listening more than she speaks.
"It is a fate you see, that we travel together?" she asks hesitantly. Well, the signs had already pointed that way. She looks again at their group-- the singer, the red-skinned, the old woman, and her own kinsman....
"This is a curse, yes? There are many bad things in the world, in the north. Old things. Maybe one of them... comes down here, to your lands."