Helios nearly lets his wine spill down his chin with enthusiasm. "I would delight in hearing the true version! Mine is only second...maybe even third of fourth hand from a caravan of gnomes!" He wipes his chin with a napkin, grinning at his clumsiness. "If we should ever have time and you the patience, I'd love to have the correctly told story recorded."
With a grin he resists digging out his journal and inkpen to ply the Tengu for details, instead turning to Brynjar. "Regarding the wish for heroes...it really comes down to whom you'd prefer to be, eh? The hero, or the one who betrays him?" Helios lays the question out with resolution. "I prefer the former, even if I'm a small hero in a tiny tale, and even if it means dying with a dagger in my back. At the least, I'll be able to step before my maker in the after-life, head held high to be counted among those who's word and actions were trustworthy."
In the back of his mind, the half-elf's imagination spins and churns, delving into the back stories of the people around the fire. What interesting tales to be heard and perhaps even told if they are willing...
Then something occurs to him as his mind conjures up images of the rough looking Brynjar fighting off hordes of orc archers...one of the items he'd picked up while at the bar earlier. "Krystae, have you heard tell of the High Sentinels running into trouble lately? I would think they'd have been on top of these louses who kidnapped Lady Argentea."
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Taking a slice of bread and smelling it he chuckles.
"Caw! In many cultures, sharing bread and salt is a sign of friendship and/or hospitality.
The wise traveller makes sure that he is offered some bread and salt as soon as he enters another person home, since many people hold guest right sacred."
Krystae nods. "Indeed, Professor, indeed." She takes a drink from the wine, savoring the warmth the hot, spiced beverage began to spread throughout her core. She picked up a slice of bread and slathered on some of the apple butter.
"I.. I arrived here in T-t-taldor recently, j-just, um... w-wandering? But when I got to this t-t-town there were p-p-people having severe d-d-difficulties with the w-w-weather, and I thought m-maybe I c-could bring them a b-bit of Luck." She makes the sign of Desna again as she did before the others entered.
Krystae decides to leave the philosophical discussion to the three males and smiles when she sees Elen invoke the sign of her patron goddess. 'A good sign, though I still don't quite trust this one... She seems very nervous.' Krystae pulls a holy symbol of Desna out from beneath her coat. "You are a follower of Lady Starsong as well?"
Then something occurs to him as his mind conjures up images of the rough looking Brynjar fighting off hordes of orc archers...one of the items he'd picked up while at the bar earlier. "Krystae, have you heard tell of the High Sentinels running into trouble lately? I would think they'd have been on top of these louses who kidnapped Lady Argentea."
Krystae turns back to Helios to answer his question. "I have not heard of any recent troubles with the High Sentinels, no; however, my thoughts echo yours as well. Simple bandits within the Border Wood should not have the daring and coordination to take on such a well armed caravan. In fact, I have been waiting for the village council to gather a group to investigate..."
She watches Elen's cat... or rather her familiar... while it curls up in the elf woman's lap. She also noticed the strange woman hasn't partaking of the offered food and drink. "Elen, please, have some bread and wine if it pleases you."
"Hmmmph, bandits...one thing I can tell you right now, my mood is such that if I cannot keep warm myself, then I am more than willing to "share" the wealth with some "deserving" souls."
Havelock pulls out a small clay phial which he begins to slowly turn in his hand.
"Yes...especially if there is a little money in it, bandits should have some loot, or there may be a reward.
I do so miss my schnapps and brandy."
Once more he runs his hand inside his furs, feeling the various phials and slowly counting them off.
Mutagen, that's the large one, one glass phial with a knobby top and one with a round one, and four clay phials.
"Since my skills as a craftsman and a lecturer are in little demand here, I find myself woefully unemployed.
And travelling on requires funds I simply do not have."
"Not a philosopher by trade, but I did teach rudimentary philosophy at the Acadame, it is hard to teach about the golden soul of alchemy without including some philosophy...
and no, I do NOT mean the philosophers stone either...
Caw! But at the same time, the best way to make money is to spend money, a miser never prospers, but he who knows when to spend and when to save is a rich man before his time."
What is an alchemist doing in a small village? Wondered the warrior as he fixed the tengu with a studious stare, and habitually traced one of the scars on his face with his pointing finger. It made no sense to him why someone who could easily make a living in the large bustling cities where most pleasures and needs are available, and he should know he lived in cities a number of times during his life. Whatever the mission of the tengu alchemist, it most likely didn't involve him and then again maybe it wasn't a mission maybe he was simply running from something.
Brynjar noticed that he had lost himself in the jungle of his thoughts and refocused his glance on his partner in this semi-debate, it was not something he has done often, most arguments he had, involved sharp or blunt objects and ended with one side dead and the other side nursing his wounds or walking away. This duel if one can could it that, was more about ideals and ways of thinking, and while Brynjar was amused by it, the only sign his face showed was the neutral and somewhat inquisitive look he had in his eyes.
"Then it is best you watch where you spend your gold alchemist, few things can make you feel regret like a terrible trade" Replied Brynjar as he spread a coat of apple butter of one side of a new slice of bread.
"Regarding the wish for heroes...it really comes down to whom you'd prefer to be, eh? The hero, or the one who betrays him?" Helios lays the question out with resolution. "I prefer the former, even if I'm a small hero in a tiny tale, and even if it means dying with a dagger in my back.
The talk of heroes and their achievements did not bother Brynjar, it was the words of accepting a betrayal if there was no other choice that spread salt over his still fresh emotional wounds. Why should anyone be a champion if that is truly what awaited them, and even if one could avoid the dagger to their back, the betrayal itself would leave them changed...just like it changed him. The red haired man's frown deepened and his eyebrows grew closer together, but he said nothing, electing to sate the beast of hunger and keep the monster of anger starved for another day.
"I have not heard of any recent troubles with the High Sentinels, no; however, my thoughts echo yours as well. Simple bandits within the Border Wood should not have the daring and coordination to take on such a well armed caravan. In fact, I have been waiting for the village council to gather a group to investigate..."
"Bandits would dare to attack anyone if they are desperate enough...and who wouldn't be in this sudden change of weather" He interjected Krystae, as he finished up the last of his sliced bread "But if you are unlucky, it'll be mercenaries instead, they don't lack coordination and most will do anything for a fee" Continued Brynjar, the confidence of someone who was speaking from experience echoed from his rough voice.
Helios feels concern at Brynjar's expression, not wanting his words to cause anger to a new acquaintance. But before he can apologize, the scarred warrior's observation sets the half-elf's mind into motion.
"Mercenaries..." Helios scratches at his chin in contemplation. "That may make more sense than just simple brigands." He gestures to the inquisitor. "Krystae, you know of Old Dansby's trouble with missing crops?" Helios explains to the others. "Old Man Dansby claims that someone keeps 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."
The bard frowns down at his wine, thinking back few years when he and his father had rooted out a mercenary band in the north who'd been hired by a local "bearded" to scare the serfs into depending upon him more.
"Mercenaries are opportunists, but they're also quite organized. I'm wondering if the thievery at the Dansby farm is related to our...enterprising kidnappers who made off with the good Lady." He shrugs, still wearing a frown as his thoughts continue to turn. "Perhaps Desna has brought us together for a purpose."
A twinge of excitement pinches at his gut and Helios sprouts another grin. A story was definitely in the offing...
As Krystae brings out her holy symbol, Elen smiles brightly, realizing the human is a fellow believer. She takes the offered bread and replies, "Oh, yes I am; her f-faith is quite c-c-common in Kyonin, though you p-probably know that. I apologize for my nerves, but I just find it d-difficult to talk to strangers sometimes. " Her stutter fades, apparently as she becomes more comfortable.
When Helios suggests Desna has brought them here for a reason, she nods and says, "Yes, surely our meeting was written in the stars."
"Caw! That is my nature by necessity, as most people that know anything about Tengu tends to be naturally suspicious.
Of course, should someone try to cheat me when it comes to MY wares...let's just say that if I'm not properly paid I may have to skimp on certain ingredients.
Like the wax sealing to my alchemists fire, such a shame if it should break at a...inopportune time."
"So you see, sometimes you can make a good deal, but quality costs, you have to pay for it.
On the other hand, few people who know quality would then complain if they had to shill out a few more gold than they intended, ESPECIALLY when handling dangerous goods."
The Tengu pauses to take a sip of his wine, and then he puts the poker into the fire again, intending to warm the wine Krystae supplied as well.
"Mercenaries are also in someone’s pay, so if her ladyship was kidnapped by such ilk, then it may be a good idea to ask the question of whom has the most to gain by her disappearance.
Perhaps someone is willing to pay more money to see her gone than someone is willing to pay to get her back you know..."
You've never heard of a talking stag before.
"I've not heard anything about these mercenaries, but what I have heard, is the same you have, Helios, about Dansby's crops, but also, a young man, said by those to whom I've spoken to be honest, said he saw a white stag at the edge of the woods, followed it, and fell through the ice at Wishbone Creek. White stags are supposed to be creatures of legend, I believe."
"Well, let us take a step back and take stock of what exactly we know of the situation.
It often helps if you categorize things in facts, probabilities and possibilities."
"Fact, it is unusually cold for this season, and snow has already fallen in some places, this is a concern for farmers and hunters alike.
Fact, a small caravan or party have been attacked and a noblewoman travelling in it has been taken.
Fact, one of the caravan members have managed to reach civilization and is thus an eyewitness."
"Probability, the men attacking were more likely to be mercenaries than bandits as a large group of bandits would have been well known, even if relatively new to the area.
Probability, mercenaries are commonly hired for a purpose, and the most logical assumption is that they were specifically after the noblewoman.
Probability, this noblewoman is worth something to someone, the question is if it is gone or returned."
"Possibility, the return of said noblewoman would garner whomever returned her a great deal of notoriety, and possibly a deal of cold hard cash.
Possibility, this being the town closest to her disappearance may feel obliged to send out a patrol or something to rectify the situation.
Possibility, said town council or mayor would rather risk people volunteering than command someone to go."
Helios thinks on the Tengu's observations. "Succinct." the half-elf responds.
Looking about the tavern Helios seeks out any of the members of the village council, or perhaps one of the shire-reeves who oversees safety in Heldren.
"If you'll all indulge me for a moment. Let me see what I can do about getting us attached to said investigation." Grinning broadly, Helios moves off from the fireplace and into the thick of the crowd. He glad hands and greets and feels his heart warming to see familiar faces, even if there is uncertainty among them at the recent events.
For the conversation...
OR
Havelock snorts at the very idea that he would be anything but succinct and informative.
He then eyes Helios with interest, pausing now and then to have a sip of mulled wine, and then invariably waving the steam from his face so he can continue to observe.
"Our smooth talking companion seems to have a plan all of his own, and like it or not, I believe he intends to include us in it."
"Sounds alright to me. Searching for the lost noblewoman is more interesting than what I had in mind, but after we are done, I want to see who else we can help around here."
"As long as this little rescue lines our pockets with decent pay or reward, I'll follow this plan of his" Stated Brynjar bluntly. Purchasing new equipment and a new weapon has left his coin pouch starved and thin, and he had planned to remedy that when he arrived at Heldren, and if Helios was the one to get him this job, that was fine with him, as long as the half-elf was within eyesight and earshot. While it seemed that this half-elven man was not the type to betray someone, Brynjar wasn't going to let that hurry up the process of trusting the bard.
The red haired man's eyes moved to Elen She seems eager to help this noblewoman, but I don't see how, she doesn't look like a warrior and she isn't dressed for this weather, could she be a wizard or a sorceress? Brynjar's dark blue irises focused on the cat that was by the elf's side. He remembered his cousin having a cat, he didn't like that animal...and he wondered if he would harbor the same feelings towards this one.
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Krystae nods her understanding at the woman's discomfort. 'Or perhaps it's because you're involved in this mischief and now you know I am looking into it...' Elen seemed innocent enough; however, Krystae was not about to discount anyone. Especially a spellcaster...
"Yes, surely our meeting was written in the stars."
The inquisitor appreciated Elen's faith in Desna, and perhaps the woman would prove trustworthy, but much would need to be proven for trust. Krystae would be friendly with them, allow them to let down their guard, so she could get to know their true selves before she would befriend them. 'Though I believe Brynjar there is showing his true self to us now...'
She was deep within her own thoughts when Helios volunteered to find them a job. Krystae grew up in Heldren, she could help direct him to where he needed to be. "Wait, Helios, I will come with you." She stands, taking a slice of bread and her cup of mulled wine as well. To the others she adds. "Please feel free to finish the bread in our absence, and if your cup runs dry see the barkeep."
Seeing the supposed law-keeper leave her seat to join the bard in his search, alarmed Brynjar enough to steal his attention away from Elen's pet. Krystae has shown the scarred man and the rest of the strangers in this village nothing but kindness, of course, she also did a good job of keeping her alert eyes on them as well. Brynjar released a muffled grunt as he watched the blond woman and the half-elf address the people around them. It was clear to the warrior that this woman could possibly as mistrustful of others as he was, that fact amused him greatly, especially when he considered her friendly if somewhat reserved attitude.
She'll probably keep her eyes on us till we leave Heldren Brynjar unseated himself and followed after Krystae That's fine, as long as she understands that I'll be returning the favor He kept his distance from the bard and the spear wielder but always made sure that they were in his sights, and that he could hear everything they were saying and everything they were listening to.
Havelock smirks a little as one by one most of the little gathering leaves, following each other by the looks of things.
He then leans closer to Elen and whispers.
Helios, Krystae and Brynjar head to the village council hall. The council here is led by an elderly woman named Ionnia Teppen.
Helios speaks for the group. "Good eve, madam. I'm inquiring after the recent troubles and the kidnapping of Lady Argentea. You may know of me and my father, Grev Duneheim, and the services we've provided to Heldren in the past. I'd like to place myself and my companions at your service in investigating the kidnapping and bringing the good Lady safely home. Will you consider the offer?"
Ionnia seems visibly relieved. "A pocket of unearthly winter weather has recently appeared in the Border Wood, and a rider from Zimar arrived in town the previous day bearing the ominous tidings of Lady Argentea's abduction. I see the news has travelled fast. Unfortunately, our village is barely large enough to marshal a decent militia to protect the town, and we cannot spare any soldiers to investigate this terrible crime. It is quite a relief to know that we have some volunteers we can trust. While our coffers are nearly empty, I am sure Lady Argentea's family will reward you handsomely when she is returned."
"You will want to speak with the Ulfen mercenary who survived the attack on Lady Argentea's caravan. His name is Yuln, and he is recovering from his wounds at the Willowbark Apothecary. He can describe the strange creatures that attacked him."
Helios bows gratitude to the elderly woman. "Many thanks, Mistress Teppen. I will stake my warrant on the dependability of this group. We will find answers for you and this village."
With that, the half-elf bard glad-hands his way towards the exit, nodding for the others to do the same. "I promise, before I turn in for the evening, I'll return here to provide you with a story or two to raise your spirits!"
And towards the exit he goes, grabbing up his newly purchased furs and donning them on the way. "To the Apothecary, my new friends. Let's see what we can do about expanding on the evidence in this case, eh?"
He pauses at the door, about to plunge into the cold, looking back at the group of newly minted companions, eyebrows raised as if to ask, Coming?
Havelock sighs deeply when it becomes apparent that he is expected to leave the comforts of the fire.
"Ah well, here goes nothing..."
With another deep sigh, he gets up and joins Helios at the door, making sure to feel that he carries his extracts once again.
Surprise did not join hands with Brynjar when he heard the village elder discuss their inability to pay them If they could, they would have already hired someone...if they really cared about this noblewoman's well being The warrior looked at the people that stood by the village elder, what few that did not pay attention to Helios either looked away from him or stared at him with suspicion and caution. This did not bother Brynjar, he was a stranger, an armed stranger, that was the worst kind of stranger to these folks, and not everyone was kind or brave enough as the law-keeper that had accompanied them to do anything beyond stare from a distance.
The elder finally spoke of a source of information; a wounded Ulfen mercenary Could he be in on the plot? Get a few cuts and get an easy payoff? Shadows of suspicion were cast in the red haired man's mind, his fingers replied in kind by tracing one of the scars on his face.
Helios bows gratitude to the elderly woman. "Many thanks, Mistress Teppen. I will stake my warrant on the dependability of this group. We will find answers for you and this village."
It seemed to Brynjar that Helios was either very confident of their success or he just wanted to put the villagers mind at ease, which made sense to the scarred warrior; these were people he knew, he was no stranger here, he cared about their livelihoods more than Brynjar or any other sell-sword would. While he was still deep in thought he caught the eyes of the same villagers that had gifted him with a mistrustful look earlier, it seemed like they were expecting some sort of response or word from him. The two-handed sword wielder stared back; his dark blue eyes clearly displaying a mix of annoyance and unwarranted anger.
"No promises" Stated Brynjar, his voice was leveled by neutrality and nonchalance to such a degree, that it was almost unsettling.
And towards the exit he goes, grabbing up his newly purchased furs and donning them on the way. "To the Apothecary, my new friends. Let's see what we can do about expanding on the evidence in this case, eh?"
He pauses at the door, about to plunge into the cold, looking back at the group of newly minted companions, eyebrows raised as if to ask, Coming?
Letting go of the warmness of this inn and the food that it offered was not something Brynjar looked forward to, but it had to be done. The warrior looked about dining area one last time, almost as if his eyes were drinking in the look of the tables, chairs, walls that were engulfed in the orange hue of the fireplace and candles. After visiting the apothecary it will be nothing but clouded skies, snow filled woods and an ambush by mercenaries. The warrior shuffled his shoulders, shifted his neck to the right and left and walked out of the door.
Elen stands up, lifting her cat off her lap, who protests audibly. "I should like to see the apothecary anyway, I think." When she notices Havelock's uncertainty, she mentions, "I know there is a spell to strengthen one's body against the press of cold. I have this kind of power imbued into my body; that is why I can wear normal, comfortable clothes even in weather like this. If you don't know that spell, perhaps we could find a copy -- a scroll or something -- that you could learn?" She wraps her shawl around her shoulders, but makes no move to put on shoes. It is not apparent that she owns any, other than the snowshoes attached to her backpack.
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Krystae nods towards the village elders as the group takes their leave. She was looking forward to speaking with the Ulfen. She checks to ensure her starknife and longbow were properly stowed. The inquisitor doesn't say much until Elen's odd comment...
"I know there is a spell to strengthen one's body against the press of cold. I have this kind of power imbued into my body; that is why I can wear normal, comfortable clothes even in weather like this. If you don't know that spell, perhaps we could find a copy -- a scroll or something -- that you could learn?"
Krystae searched her knowledge of the arcane to see if she knew of any casters who had such power. She decides to address Elen directly. "How is it you came about such abilities, Elen?"
"Oh come now, I dare say that not one in our little company is lacking in at least rudimentary understanding of mysticism.
And not one of us is lacking in brainpower either, true, I suspect that only one of you can surpass me, but not one of you would be unable to complete my course of "Things arcane in the night".
"She walks with a cat by her side, the cat seems to share her ability to resist the elements, it is a fair assumption that it is a familiar or a so called animal companion.
Wizards, sorcerers and witches have familiars, druids may have animal companions."
"Now, without further information it would stop there, but she also mentioned a "crone" in tones that suggested said "crone" was an elder, probably a teacher."
"This suggest either a witch or a shaman, as such titles would be considered fairly insulting towards an elderly wizard or sorcerer."
Helios let out a sigh, trying to not let himself be exasperated. "Sometimes, master Havelock, there are those who would disclose what they wish at the point they feel comfortable." The half-elf looks to the others. "For my part, I am a storyteller by trade. I've traveled for several years but my roots are here in Taldor if not Heldren." He pats his rapier and the scorpion whip on the opposite side. "I know my way around these, and dabble some in the arcane, but most of those talents center on my ability to speak."
He grins towards Havelock. "Yes, I do love talking...just as much as you do."
Then he looks to Brynjar and wonders if and when he'll unveil what is at his center. But the half-elf elects not to pry.
Elen takes a quick glance around. Outside of the Inn, the village streets are almost deserted, probably due to the unseasonable cold.
"Hmm, I prefer not to have anyone listening in who might gossip. I was instructed in the ways of the arcane by two women, elders by human reckoning, though one much older than the other. Have you ever heard of the phrase, 'Mother, Maiden, and Crone'? That triad -- youth and innocence, age and wisdom, and the connection to the creative force of birth -- has a unique power all its own. I was the second, the maiden, the apprentice to the other two. Among the Ulfen, those who fear us call us by the same names they call all magic-users they fear -- Häxa,
Trollkvinna, Förtrollerska -- Hag, Sorceress, Enchantress in Taldane, I suppose -- but we preferred Wicce, or Witch. If you have heard tales of the evil witch-queens of Irrisen, and fear that I am their agent, I swear by the Queen of the North Star it is not so. My Crone, Estrid, fled Irrisen as a young woman, and worked to strengthen the Thanelands, her home, against the dangers of that land. Taking me into her instruction was part of this, and although I love the cold, I do not seek to spread it in the manner of this unwarranted winter."
Havelock frowns as he tries to puzzle out exactly what Helios is talking about. Folding one arm over his chest, he then rests the elbow of the other arm in his palm, and his beak in the other palm, tapping the side of it in thought.
When Elen explains her powers he at first begins to look smug as his suspicious proves correct, but when she speaks of the Irrisen witches he suddenly begins to comprehend what Helios did mean.
"Arrwk...ahem, yes well...jolly good! Moving on shall we?"
How very...awkward...
"How is it you came about such abilities, Elen?"
Seeing his assumption of Krystae's intent proven true caused the warrior to turn his body to face the blond woman and the elf. He needed to see this; viewing how law-keepers handled themselves always helped freelancers such as himself learn exactly what kind of services he could offer and just what kind of activities were frowned upon in such communities. Of course there was also the suspicions he's had about the elf, she had not spoken of who she is or what is it exactly she is capable of, and if she does not answer Krystae's question...then they would all see the more 'vigilant' side of the law-keeper.
"She walks with a cat by her side, the cat seems to share her ability to resist the elements, it is a fair assumption that it is a familiar or a so called animal companion.
Wizards, sorcerers and witches have familiars, druids may have animal companions.""Now, without further information it would stop there, but she also mentioned a "crone" in tones that suggested said "crone" was an elder, probably a teacher."
"This suggest either a witch or a shaman, as such titles would be considered fairly insulting towards an elderly wizard or sorcerer."
The former sell-sword turned to face the alchemist, the information he was supplying them with was useful So she told Havelock and Helios of herself before we arrived...wait...witches being distinct from wizards and sorcerers, that was... The red haired man searched his sea of memories as to why this part of the arcane expert's explanation mattered to him, but not matter how deep he went, that memory eluded him...like a wary prey that knew that a hunter was on its trail. Unsatisfied by this, he began searching his pack for a very particular item.
"For my part, I am a storyteller by trade. I've traveled for several years but my roots are here in Taldor if not Heldren." He pats his rapier and the scorpion whip on the opposite side. "I know my way around these, and dabble some in the arcane, but most of those talents center on my ability to speak."
He grins towards Havelock. "Yes, I do love talking...just as much as you do."
Then he looks to Brynjar and wonders if and when he'll unveil what is at his center. But the half-elf elects not to pry.
The moment his hand recognized the journal in his pack, Brynjar took notice of Helios words; the half-elf was telling them of his skills and capabilities, which was not exactly something the scarred former mercenary was focusing due to his fixation on the book he just extracted from his pack. Helios' look on the other hand got his full attention They want to know what I bring to this group? Fair enough Brynjar held the book by his side and looked back to the half-elven bard.
"My name is Brynjar, I did some hunting in the past so I know my way around the wilds and how to survive in them. These lands are new to me but I'll get used to them in time...I was a mercenary some years ago, which taught that honor means little on the battlefield; the only thing that truly matters is surviving. I was training to be a warrior since before I came of age" Then the warrior patted the broad side of his sheathed weapon with his free hand "So yes, I know how to handle this weapon" Continued the scarred man, his voice brimming with both roughness and confidence.
Brynjar began scanning the journal of his dead cousin; he flipped the pages in haste, wanting to arrive at certain part that he believed held his answers. With him so focused on what he held in his hands, he missed the eyes of the few villagers that were still outside; each pair of eyes either gleamed with curiosity or nervousness. The former sell-sword removed his focus from the book in his hands when he heard Elen speak again.
I was instructed in the ways of the arcane by two women, elders by human reckoning, though one much older than the other. Have you ever heard of the phrase, 'Mother, Maiden, and Crone'? That triad -- youth and innocence, age and wisdom, and the connection to the creative force of birth -- has a unique power all its own. I was the second, the maiden, the apprentice to the other two. Among the Ulfen, those who fear us call us by the same names they call all magic-users they fear -- Häxa,
Trollkvinna, Förtrollerska -- Hag, Sorceress, Enchantress in Taldane, I suppose -- but we preferred Wicce, or Witch. If you have heard tales of the evil witch-queens of Irrisen, and fear that I am their agent
Before he could even here comprehend the rest of her words, it dawned upon him; the memory, the clue that had eluded him so They would not accept Lissandra into their ranks because she was a sorceress...mistress' from the north...witch queens It all made sense now, the incomplete picture was finally whole, the...Brynjar's dark blue eyes refocused and Elen was in front of him, she talked in such a friendly manner, just like everyone who stabbed him with the dagger of betrayal; The Shoanti who raised him, the mercenary leader who took him under his wing, his cousin who welcomed him into her home...every single one of them turned on him, and he wasn't going to wait for someone else to do the same.
His cousin's journal dropped from his hands, and fell to the ground, he could hear Havelock's voice in the background, but now it seemed like he was speaking in a different langauge; rage had clawed its way out of its lair and plunged its fangs into his soul, everything else was out of focus, all that mattered was he not be betrayed once more. Brynjar's hands went to his monstrosity of a sword and quickly unsheathed it. The two-handed sword was clear for all to see; an edged weapon of many nicks and scratches, one could almost guess at the number of battles it had undergone from that sight alone.
Havelock, still somewhat distracted listens only somewhat to Brynjar, after all, he had already deduced the man was a warrior, and had likewise assumed that he was skilled as a woodsman, since he showed such disdain for towns.
As such, Havelock does not realize the significance of the weapon being drawn, instead interpreting it as a show of prowess.
As such, he steps closer to examine the weapon somewhat, coincidentally stepping between Brynjar and Elen.
"Yes, impressive weapon...showing clear signs of use...some of the scars in the metal clearly from weapon care rather than combat.
My guess is the weapon is not made for you originally."
"But best put it away no? The people of this land are hearty, but even here, drawing weapons in the streets is probably frowned on don't you think?" The last is said in a mildly reproving voice.
"No need to make us known to the local law keepers quite that way, since we may soon be counted as part of their numbers and all."
The bard smile at Havelock's response, glad for seeing the Tengu's wisdom. He's even happier to see Elen open up about her heritage and her abilities. A better explanation he'd not heard in all his years in the north. There was a lot of distrust of witches, but that could be said about any profession related to magic...or violence...
...Suddenly, Brynjar draws his mighty weapon, a book thumping to the ground next to him...the flames of hatred in the warrior's eyes.
As Havelock steps in front of the warrior, Helios steps immediately in front of Elen, hands up, palms out. "Stay your weapon, Brynjar." Helios states firmly. The half-elf takes on a more authoritative tone, his normally pleasant demeanor walls over as he sees the danger in Brynjar's eyes.
There's what I misplaced earlier...what I'd not been certain about in the man... Helios lets his words flow, forming them in such a way as to inspire the armed warrior to think more deeply... "You're a fighter with a history of battle and loss in your past, that much is clear...but every battle places a choice before each and every combatant, yes? An opportunity for the person wielding death to see beyond the blood and see to the heart of a situation. It is in that moment that the past and the present can disagree. It is in that moment a better choice can be made."
The bard keeps his hands up, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet so he can keep himself between Brynjar and Elen. "Cast aside your past, Brynjar and see the battlefield before you...recognize friend from foe with clear eyes...sheathe your blade before you do something that can never be undone."
Elen gasps and falls back as Brynjar draws his weapon. She had expected she might elicit some reactions with her admission, but never this. "I... I... I... d-d-don't m-m-mean any harm, Chelaxian..." she stammers, trying to force out words that will calm him before he attacks, while preparing to defend herself if needed.
A few children in the street see the drawn sword. They run up to a nearby hut; a man steps out, and the children point at the situation in the street. He sends them all inside, closes the door, and goes behind his house out of your view.
He didn't really remember his trek through the frozen wood. Just bits and pieces. Lots of walking. The children's excitement. Seeing smoke in the distance.
As ever in his life, he concentrated on the fact that he was here, now. The past and future were not so different from each other, and were often quite cyclical.
This now though, this now was different than the others. He trudged out of the wood, dragging his feet, breathing ragged and shuddering. The buildings were strange. The few people he saw were... small. The streets were empty, mostly, save for that man there with the gleaming sword and the few around him seeming to try to calm him.
He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but his body was done obeying.
Like a massive tree cracking under the weight of the snows, Ragnar son of Kul toppled forward into a new age.
Rage had full control over the scarred warrior, it commanded his muscled arms to draw the sword backward and charge at his alleged enemy, and he would have gladly complied if someone didn't come into such close proximity with his sword, and that someone was in no way his intended target. Brynjar was about to bark at the alchemist to move aside, but then he was shocked by the sight of the alchemist who got even closer to his weapon.
"Yes, impressive weapon...showing clear signs of use...some of the scars in the metal clearly from weapon care rather than combat.
My guess is the weapon is not made for you originally.""But best put it away no? The people of this land are hearty, but even here, drawing weapons in the streets is probably frowned on don't you think?" The last is said in a mildly reproving voice.
"No need to make us known to the local law keepers quite that way, since we may soon be counted as part of their numbers and all."
The shock of Havelock closing in on his weapon and thoroughly studying it with his eyes caused the scarred warrior to slightly distance himself from the anger that held his reigns; and as a result he regained some sense of his surroundings and what was being said by the people around him What does he think he's doing?! Before the red haired man could even reply to Havelock, he noticed Helios move between himself and his target.
"Stay your weapon, Brynjar." Helios states firmly. The half-elf takes on a more authoritative tone, his normally pleasant demeanor walls over as he sees the danger in Brynjar's eyes.
"You're a fighter with a history of battle and loss in your past, that much is clear...but every battle places a choice before each and every combatant, yes? An opportunity for the person wielding death to see beyond the blood and see to the heart of a situation. It is in that moment that the past and the present can disagree. It is in that moment a better choice can be made."
The bard keeps his hands up, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet so he can keep himself between Brynjar and Elen. "Cast aside your past, Brynjar and see the battlefield before you...recognize friend from foe with clear eyes...sheathe your blade before you do something that can never be undone."
Brynjar stood still and listened to the bard that stepped into his path, and for every word that echoed in his ear, he could feel his rage screaming and roaring louder; as if it was trying to drown out anything but the screams of its desire. The flames of anger that burned within him in this cold weather ordered him forward, commanded him to clear his path, demanded that he made sure that what happened in his past...The past...could he be telling the truth, that I am letting my past dictate whether I should kill Elen or not? Another force gained power within Brynjar; his self control and reason. His anger argued that she could be with these witch queens, that she could be plotting their downfall now, but then his common sense and reason retorted by the simple fact that these witch queens never bothered with him directly in the past, it was his cousin that plotted his demise in the past; he was her own personal project, thes3e witch queens probably did not know of his existence.
For the longest moment Brynjar stood still as an emotional and mental battle raged within him. At first it seemed that neither side was winning, that the warrior would remain as a statue; completely motionless, but once more the words of the bard repeated themselves in his mind, they angered him, because they were mostly true. Brynjar was here because of what happened to him in the past, he was after the mistress' of his cousin because of what she did to him If she was with them why would she bring attention to herself like that? Slowly yet surely the red haired man's anger began taking blows that it could not handle, it tried one last time repeating the same arguments it did before, but to no avail; Brynjar's self control dragged the monster of anger back into its lair.
Elen gasps and falls back as Brynjar draws his weapon. She had expected she might elicit some reactions with her admission, but never this. "I... I... I... d-d-don't m-m-mean any harm, Chelaxian..." she stammers, trying to force out words that will calm him before he attacks, while preparing to defend herself if needed.
Elen's words dragged Brynjar out of the sea of his thoughts. He could see that she was ready to defend herself but was very surprised by his reaction. Plunging his sword back into his makeshift sheath Brynjar crouched down to retrieve the journal of his cousin "I can see that...now" His voice seemed neutral and almost devoid of any roughness that has previously accompanied it "I apologize...even if that means little coming from a man who has drawn his weapon at you" Continued Brynjar, some amount of roughness finding its way back into his voice. For now he would let her be, as she could very well be innocent, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't keep his eyes on her, just like he kept his eyes on everyone that surrounded him.
Like a massive tree cracking under the weight of the snows, Ragnar son of Kul toppled forward into a new age.
Immediately turning at the sound of a large thing hitting the ground, Brynjar saw the massive figure of Ragnar lying on the ground still, the red haired warrior got up immediately and stared at the fallen figure from where he stood An Ogre? Here? Thought Brynjar as he looked at Ragnar.
Helios breathes a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as tension releases. While he'd not planned on moving, he really wasn't in the mood to watch his intestines twisting and smoking in the snow.
But the tension only elevates as he hears a crash to his right. His hand instinctively goes to the whip at his side but stops as he sees the prone form of a what looks to be the largest person he's ever seen. From the look of him, the big man was exhausted...maybe exposure?
He cast a quick glance towards Krystae asking silently if she recognizes him. Even when she indicates she doesn't, Helios can't help but see what he can do.
"Professor, Elen, Krystae, do any of you have ability in the healing arts?" he asks, kneeling down next to the big man. He feels like a child again, trying to stir his father from a deep slumber. "C'mon, big guy..." He attempts to at least move the fallen man's head to the side so he can breathe freely from the snow. "...wow, you're a hairy one, aren't you?" he states, seeing the man's snow sprinkled face.
Towards the warrior, "Brynjar, please, may I have use of your formidable strength to roll this man on his back. I don't think I can manage on my own. Maybe we can get him someplace warm..."
Checking what recognizable items are on the big man's person, something I can use to ascertain where he's from...
Elen takes a deep breath, trying to calm down after her fright. She runs her hand over her chest and pulls her shawl a little closer around her -- the nervous sweat seems to be chilling even her protected flesh.
"It... w-w-wouldn't be the f-f-first t-time... Ulfen w-w-warriors are quick t-to threaten w-when angered," Elen manages to say with a hint of a smile.
When the huge man collapses at the edge of the village, Elen looks over with a start. "Who... what is that? Is he injured?"
Creeping forward timidly, Elen rucks up her dress, revealing sturdy, pale legs as she kneels next to the large figure.
"Well, he seems to be human, although large. I think he's just exhausted and chilled to the bone, and getting him to the apothecary might be the best thing for him. I've never seen an ogre or a giant that looked like this, though he might be human with some giant or ogre blood. Maybe just an unusually large breed of human?"
Not completely sure that this was the best of ideas, Brynjar nevertheless walked towards the fallen body with careful steps; reasoning that should the man be hostile they could probably take him down while he was still weak from obvious exposure to the elements and that helping this stranger wouldn't really take too much of their time. Once the red haired warrior was within arms length of this giant of a man, he placed his hands to the side of the stranger and began lifting.
Havelock, having just realized that Brynjar was not in fact showing off his skills and being suddenly very mindful of a big sword being uncomfortably close to his face was trying to figure out a way out of the situation.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for a distraction right about now...
The sound of a massive body hitting the ground dissipated the situation before it could get out of hand, Helios seemed to have already calmed Brynjar down by that point, but a distraction still could hardly hurt, so when nobody was looking, Havelock wiped his forehead, gazed appreciatively up at the sky and chuckled.
Prompt delivery, much appreciated.
He then walked over to join the others.
"No blood, most likely he is indeed simply suffering from exposure and fatigue as you say Elen.
I also believe your first guess was correct, see there?"
Running a claw over the forehead of the large man, Havelock indicates certain areas.
"A slightly sloping forehead, pronounced brow and extra ridges not found in full-blooded humans, most likely this does indicate a giant kin ancestry."
Realizing that even though Brynjar was a bog strong man, he could hardly move such a body himself, Havelock reaches into his pocket and produces the largest of his vials.
With a sigh he unstopped it and drinks it down, wincing at the terrible taste.
Closing his eyes he waits for the change to come, and it is swift.
His entire body clenches as it grows, his previously voluminous clothes suddenly straining tightly around his swollen frame, and his eyes taking on a deep reddish colour rather than the previous blue.
He then grunts and grabs a hold of the large man and begins to assist in moving him.
"Impressive..." Helios remarks, standing back so the two can aid one another in manhandling..the man. "...most impressive."
Helios looks about for a place to bring the man for recuperation. "Krystae, do you have a place nearby we could use? Somehow bringing a this fellow to the local tavern doesn't say...'Look, no need to fear, fair village. We've found a giant!'"
...looking about to see how much attention we've invited...
Helios sees a group of five villagers gathered to the side of one of the nearby buildings, armed with woodcutter axes and spears. He recognizes one of them as a sergeant in the local militia. They seem to be anxiously watching, and seem to be unaware that they have been noticed. As Brynjar puts up his sword, they relax visibly but continue to watch from their "hidden" position. They don't seem interested in provoking a confrontation unless they have to.
You drag the rather large body into the apothecary, where you had been headed before to speak with Yuln, the survivor of the caravan. The man there tending the shop seemed to be expecting someone to come and see Yuln, but certainly was not expecting another patient. He looks visibly surprised and orders his assistant to help carry in the body and place it on one of the cots near the fire. He then asks one of you to help him wrap the body with blankets.
It was only after the group began dragging the big man to warmth and safety that they noticed that the tracks leading to where he had collapsed were mingled with more than a dozen sets of smaller, child-sized footprints. Some were shod and some were barefoot, and the sizes varied from toddler to teen.
As they began to move him, the tracks of the invisible children stepped and pranced along with them.
"We will need to be more cautious, my friends..." Helios whispers to the party as they move the unconscious man to the apothecary. "Our little disagreement has drawn the attention of several of the town militia...I think they have enough to worry about without a concern for their new group of investigators tearing apart the village, eh?"
He nods for them to get a move on, glad that the professor had elected to use his elixir to aid in the heavy lifting. Once they arrive at the apothecary's, Helios sets about talking with the healer. "Many thanks, good man," Helios moves to assist with bundling up the unconscious man. "We were en route to speak with a man named Yuln when this hairy stranger fell down right in front of us. Since were already on the way..." The half-elf shrugs with a grin. "What better place than your fair shelter to seek out a respite for his exposure."
Once they settle in the giant, the half-elf inquires after Yuln and if he is in a condition to speak.
Elen steps up to assist the apothecary, speaking soothing words to the big man. She does notice the spirit tracks, but comes to the conclusion that this is a beneficial thing, having heard of men who were followed by benevolent, though mischievous, spirits.
The apothecary was warm in atmosphere, its racks were filled with jars and containers, and it smelled of old herbs and potions. Having already placed the man on one of the empty beds, Brynjar took to looking out one of the windows. After the commotion he caused, he wanted to make sure that they weren't followed, and if they were he wanted to insure that whoever followed them knew that he was keeping watch. The red haired mercenary turned to look at Ragnar, who has still not regained consciousness Its a good thing that Havelock helped when he did He turned towards the alchemist and was still intrigued by the transformation he saw him pull off, and he had a full view of it the entire way here; as he ended up lifting this giant of a man from the shoulders, while Havelock handled his legs.
"You were right this sword wasn't made for me" Said Brynjar, delivering an extremely late reply to the alchemist's earlier statement.
Havelock directs dull red eyes towards Brynjar, a touch of something dangerous held back smouldering in them, and then he shudders violently and slowly shrinks back to his previous size.
"Dear gods in heaven! The taste is absolutely vile! I would sell a year of my life for some lemons!
I used to mix lemons in the mutagen to make it taste more acceptable, but where am I supposed to get lemons up here?"
Havelock spits and wipes his beak on his sleeve.
"At least the headache is gone now...so what were you saying?"
He looks up at Brynjar.
"The word was not made for you? No, I thought as much, you seem capable of wielding it, so it should not have managed to accumulate such an impressive collection of nicks in just one average fighters lifetime."
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Krystae already had an idea of Elen before Havelock even mentions the word "witch"; however, when the elven woman admits... Krystae's hiss was lost to the sound of Brynjar's commotion. Instead of direction her spear towards the witch, she instead turned towards the paranoid mercenary. She was not going to allow unneccesssary bloodshed in her village.
Thankfully Helios and Havelock were able to distract Brynjar long enough to bring his anger in check. And then suddenly an extremely large man appeared in the midst of the road... Krystae was becoming increasingly worried about these "random" occurances in Heldren.
In response to Helios' question... "I would recommedn taking him to the apothecary, best place as any."
She spots the gathering militia, holds a hand up to the sergeant to let him know she will handle the situation. The inquisitor keeps her spear at the ready as she follows behing the others. It was then she spotted the footprints appearing in the snow; she grips her holy symbol tightly in her left hand. Her brows draw together into a frown. She would have answers.
Once in the apothecary and the large man is situated, she turns towards the others. "Before we go on any further, I want some answers!" The group can tell she is flustered. "Brynjar, I can appreciate your distrust of witches..." She glances at Elen. "However, before you think to bare steel in this town again without just cause, know that it can easily land you in the stocks."
She turns towards the strange, large man. She opens her mouth to say something and lifts her arm up, then just as quickly lets the arm drop with a loud sigh. She didn't even know what to do about him yet... so instead she directs her ire on Elen.
Krystae's look is fierce, her eyes glower with fire. "Witch, you claim you are from the northlands and yet have no ties to the White Wtiches. My father was taken by a White Witch..." She pauses, her right hand absently reaches up to brush against the crow feather hanging from her neck. "You words ring true, if strangely convenient for your purpose and timing in being in Heldren. Know this, I will be watching you closely. If your words prove false, I will feed your bones to the purging fires. Just as I will the witches who kidnapped my father." The young woman is trembling with rage, a wetness is building in the corner of her green eyes.
She takes a moment to compose herself as she directs her gaze to Havelock and Helios. "Thank you for your parts in preventing violence in my home..." She places her hand on their upper arms and give them a friendly squeeze with a smile.
"Now, let us examine our oversized friend here. Find out how he came to be here... and the manner of the ghosts the follow him."
I used to mix lemons in the mutagen to make it taste more acceptable, but where am I supposed to get lemons up here?"
Brynjar turned from the window and gave his attention to the alchemist "No I don't think you'll find any lemons here, but judging by the look of the surrounding wilderness, you could find some berries" Said the red haired man, a completely neutral look was plastered on his face.
"The sword was not made for you? No, I thought as much, you seem capable of wielding it, so it should not have managed to accumulate such an impressive collection of nicks in just one average fighters lifetime."
"I bought it from a mercenary who found work as a nobleman's personal guard, said his employer didn't like the look of it" Spoke Brynjar as he patted the broadside of the sheathed sword. His voice slightly indicating a jovial tone "His loss" He continued as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Before we go on any further, I want some answers!" The group can tell she is flustered. "Brynjar, I can appreciate your distrust of witches..." She glances at Elen. "However, before you think to bare steel in this town again without just cause, know that it can easily land you in the stocks."
A single nod of confirmation was all he gave to the blond woman, while his eyes held her in a neutral glance. Brynjar wouldn't say he understood her discontent, but it made sense to him; her duty was to protect this town and with people like him threatening to disembowel others that would make her job very hard. What also was clear as day to him was his getting off with only a warning this time was because of her unsubtle admittance of the ill feelings she had toward witches.
Krystae's look is fierce, her eyes glower with fire. "Witch, you claim you are from the northlands and yet have no ties to the White Wtiches. My father was taken by a White Witch..." She pauses, her right hand absently reaches up to brush against the crow feather hanging from her neck. "You words ring true, if strangely convenient for your purpose and timing in being in Heldren. Know this, I will be watching you closely. If your words prove false, I will feed your bones to the purging fires. Just as I will the witches who kidnapped my father." The young woman is trembling with rage, a wetness is building in the corner of her green eyes.
When Krystae turned towards Elen, Brynjar continued watching her, his gaze turning from neutral to studious; her reaction towards the witch in their group would prove very useful to remember. Brynjar couldn't help but notice the rage in her green eyes, a rage that was not very different from his own Is the law-keeper going to draw steel when she forbade me not to? Thought the warrior with interest now clear in his dark blue eyes.
Seeing the verbal onslaught that the blond woman unleashed was a little surprising, as Brynjar expected a completely different type of attack, but the thing that didn't shock him was that her words were as sharp as the best swords and the frequency of her assault could rival that of any expert combatant Bones to the fire? And people think me violent... the former mercenary looked on and didn't fail to notice what looked like the seed of a tear in Krystae's eye as she mentioned her father Well this is all too familiar The half-chelixian uncrossed his arms and waited for Krystae to end her talk to the group, and then approached her with very neutral steps.
"We need to speak" He whispered to her before opening the door of the apothecary and letting some of the coldness of weather contaminate the interior of this place. Brynjar despised the need to step outside but what was about to be said was best heard by her ears only.
Havelock tilts his head to one side in a very birdlike manner at Brynjars comment about berries.
"Hmmm, not a bad idea, there must be some berries tart enough to make the brew a little more palatable."
"Since this seems to be a day for strange occurrences, you don't think the nobleman was in any way connected to the noblewoman that was taken? It seems unlikely, but with everything else going on I thought it prudent to ask."
As Krystae begins to thank him and Helios, Havelock looks a little embarrassed, looking away and possibly blushing (it’s hard to detect under the feathers).
In reality, he had not done anything to stop the confrontation since he had not realized there WAS a confrontation right away, and had been in the process of trying to step away.
Being thanked for something he had not done and in fact wasn't sure he had done if he had understood what was going on made him feel awkward.
"Ah...yes...well...ahem!"
Quickly seizing on a change to get away from the subject he looks at Krystae with interest.
"Ghosts? There are ghosts following him? But how do you know this? You don't appear to know him, do you know OF him? Is he some kind of local legend?
Judging from his piecemeal equipment, one might assume some of the parts are from very old pieces originally, do you believe him to be a tomb robber haunted by the spirits of the dead he robbed?"