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The Prior Night
After assisting Elen with binding Brynjar's wounds she continues to remove the rest of the bodies from the cabin while Ragnar and his... 'Gods, what are they exactly? Spirits of dead children?' friends helped him with the prep. She realizes they had not eaten much during the day as they pushed themselves to catch the bandits, the very same men whose bodies she was dragging out into the woods. And so, despite the vile task she was conducting, the smell of cooking meat makes her stomach growl...
As the group sits around the table eating the dragon steak, Krystae looks about at her new comrades. 'We rescued the noblewoman, but what about the weather...? I wonder how many will leave once we return to Heldren, and how many will continue with Brynjar and I?'
The Next Morning
Krystae wakes the next morning after a fitful night of terrible nightmares, she wipes a cold sweat from her forehead and packs up all her gear before joining the others. Her body aches and her jaw is still throbbing from being dislocated the previous night. She sees Elen, moving about and trying to help the other wounded party members. "Witch, what can I do to help?"
Havelock is normally not one to interfere in other peoples business, and he was not exactly a model of good manners himself, but at that point he felt compelled to speak up just a little.
"I am sorry, I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes here, but in this region and in the minds of many people here, "Witch" is a word loaded with negative implications...perhaps we should...not use it but rather use our given names or surnames if need for formality arise?"
Inwardly, the Tengu cringes a little bit, unsure how the non-Tengu will react to him meddling.
"I don't mind it when it's said without venom. It is what I am, after all, and my teacher always insisted on being called Hexe Estrid, refusing any other title. Krystae, I think I've seen you use a few spells -- is there a healing one you've learned? Otherwise, umm... Oh, the sprite. The one in the cage back in that room--" Elen points "--is a winter-touched one, and I seem to be a little bit irrational when it comes to dealing with such creatures." She chuckles slightly. "Perhaps you'd be better to interrogate it and perhaps make some sort of accord with it, or come to the conclusion we're better off killing it -- which is what I want to do, but might not be the optimal course."
When Krystae informs her that she has no healing spells, Elen will spend the other CLW she prepared on Brynjar, since he's the most badly hurt still.
"Makes good sense to me," Droviz says, "Havelock."
Be his face ever so masked, Droviz' insouciant grin is audible in his voice.
"No need to call down trouble you can avoid. Or bribe. Or stab in the back before it notices you."
The masked warrior snickers. "So. How are we for breakfast? Any of that dragon left from last night? Better cold meat than no meat, as my dear, white-haired old mother used to say."
"I don't think we ate it all. That was a large beast."
The mention of white hair doesn't go unnoticed by Elen, but she holds her tongue on the matter for now.
The same blurred image that had bid him goodby as he lost consciousness welcomed him to the land of the waking, his body felt alight with dull, but constant pain, his vision cleared a few moments later and he saw the same golden hair he recalled witnessing before passing out. He laid still and tried to remember what happened, the battle he remembered vividly...every strike, every dodge, every kill, he had never had trouble remembering such things, the look on the witches servant face as he crushed his ribs under his boot and lopped off his head, was still in his mind Don't worry I'll send your masters after you soon enough His eyes once more closed, he could hear talking and someone coming close to wear he was, and suddenly he felt a tingling feeling, somewhat different but close to that he had felt when the arcane sphere exploded in the ruin he was sent to. Moments later he felt his strength returning, there was still pain but it was far easier to bear.
Once more Brynjar opened his eyes, this time he saw the wooden ceiling above, he turned towards the heat source he had been feeling and saw the fireplace alive with a modest flame with meat of what he assumed was the lizard they killed placed over it, it had a strange smell but Brynjar didn't have the luxury to complain. Without a word he sat up and placed his hand on his forehead and massaged a bit of drowsiness away, he didn't know why he felt surprisingly lighter...and then he noticed his armor was missing, along with his sword.
He got up, looked around and finally laid his eyes upon his companions, after rolling his shoulders back he walked towards them.
"G'morning!" Droviz jovially calls out to Brynjar. "Looks like you've decided not to die in your sleep -- good for you! Feel up to eating?"
Once he's been fixed up a bit, Droviz glances at the others and, when reasonably certain they're not looking at him, saunters over to the caged sprite.
"Oi, you alright in there, mate?" he whispers, furtively. "Hang tight, I'll get you out soonest. The Cold Ones are payin' me, see? You're on board, right?"
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Krystae looks up from her meal as Brynjar walks up to the party, she looks at him and for a moment a look of joy passes over her face before quickly disappearing to her sly smile. "Good! You're finally awake, you lazy bum. Sleeping on the job, very unprofessional you know. Especially for a mercenary." She winks at her friend.
To Elen's words Krystae nods. "Of course... I will speak with the sprite, perhaps I can get some information out of her. After that we should make the trip back to Heldren with the Lady to return her safely. Afterwards, I plan on returning to the forest to further investigate this strange occurrence. Can I count on any of you all continuing our journey together?"
The expression of happiness that appeared momentarily on Krystae's face wasn't missed by the recently awakened warrior, he didn't remember seeing such a look on someone's facade in relation to his well being before, except for his adoptive mother. It sent a warmth that he didn't feel for quite a while into his heart, he couldn't help but experience something of relief that someone actually still cared about him, this slightly softened the stern expression that was on his face "Our hosts bored me to sleep, but I think I saw Droviz start dozing off before any of us did" Replied Brynjar with a slight smile on his face, before stepping closer to the warm fire place and grabbing a portion of the prepared food for himself.
"You and I already agreed we'll be hunting the witches of Irrisen together, do you want me to repeat my words?" Brynjar gave his answer and then began devouring the food in front of him.
Elen wants to ask the Lady Argentea more about what she knows about what's happening, but is feeling very shy around the imperious lady.
The sprite seems visibly relieved. "Thank you. I am not well, as that bastard Rohkar broke his promises and abused me. I'm glad you killed him, he clearly couldn't be trusted and the Witch Queen can't afford any more unreliable servants."
Lady Argentea doesn't seem to have any more information than you had already. She confirms the account of the survivor you spoke with in Heldren about the attack.
"Well, you sit tight," Droviz whispers, and he passes the sprite a bit of tatzylwyrm meat and a bit of bread. "Here, you chow down on yer breakfast. I'll see if I can sneak you a drink. I'm just gonna schmooze the hot-bloods, don't you worry yer head."
Droviz gets up and limps over to the others. "Cor, I still feel a bit parky!" he says as he sits down and holds his hands out to the fire. "Here, hand me the poker, would you?" Provided someone does, the masked warrior pokes the flames up a bit, then lowers the poker's soot-stained tip to the floor.
"Here, isn't it about time we let the Faerie out?" he asks out loud. "Poor little bugger looks done in. We can at least give him a square meal and a drink, right?"
Keeping his back between him and the sprite, Droviz taps the poker against the floor, dislodging soot -- into which he sketches words in Common:
Elen sees the words and nods, scowling at the thought. She whispers to Droviz, to avoid the sprite overhearing, "The lady mentioned a Teb Knotten. Maybe if you drop that name, the little wretch will tell us more?"
Droviz nods, waggling his hand.
"I'll be talking to him more. Just wanted ta give you all the heads-up. I'll try figuring out what the plan was, here."
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Krystae looks over at Droviz's scrawled message and nods. She leans close and whispers despite the sprite being on the upper level. "Well done, Droviz. I'll let you continue with the sprite, no sense in disturbing a good thing. Find out what you can and let us know!"
She steps back to allow the masked warrior to continue his subterfuge with the fey. She then looks at the large pile of equipment they had acquired from the bandits, especially eying the magical cloak. As she looks longingly at the magical item she conjures up images from stories her father used to tell her... and suddenly her eye catches upon the simple giant Ragnar. Her eyes drift back to the cloak and then back to Ragnar... None of the others had expressed interest in the yeti cloak... "Ragnar, kom hit. Jag har något för dig." When he comes over, Krystae will stand on her toes and wrap the cloak around his shoulders.
Droviz makes his way back to the caged sprite. If there is any alcoholic refreshment in the building, he pours the sprite a thimbleful and passes it to him.
"I'm wearing 'em down," he whispers. "Drink up, mate; it'll do ya a wonder of good. Listen, I need a bit of help. The berk who's supposed to get me my orders left them for me me in a letter, if ye can believe it! Melted snow ruined over half the words, so I'm not clear on the whole plan. What'm I supposed to do about that human cow, Argentea? Who's this 'Tebb Knotten'? Drink up and speak up, mate! Like you said, Her Coldness don't need another cock-up!"
Elen will use her remaining first level spell on Cure light wounds to heal Droviz. When he heads in to try to bluff the sprite, she'll cast Guidance on him as well.
"The question is, do we return to town, resupply, get our reward -- if there is one -- or do we continue on from here and look for this Teb Knotten fellow?" she will ask in low tones, waiting for Droviz to try to get further intelligence from the Sprite.
Bluff
The sprite takes the drink gratefully. "Thank you for your kindess, and your loyalty. Teb Knotten is the troll in command at the portal to Irrisen. We need to get Lady Argentea to him so he can hold her as a hostage. The last thing we need is for the Taldor army to show up and complicate things at the portal."
"Hostage?" Droviz asks. "Tch. Gonna be difficult, with these hot-bloods here, but I'll see what I can do. We got any way to contact Knotten from a distance?"
Then he blinks, and adds: "Wait. Portal? We got us a portal? Stupid berk -- if I find out he put that in the letter, I'll skin him an' make him eat hisself. If he din't try an' let me know, I'll just make him eat hisself feet-first!
A portal changes everything! If it's hostage stuff we're talking about, I could try an' drug this lot, bundle Argentea up and nip through the portal with her! We got a safehouse on the other side? A fortress? An' 'fore you ask, I ain't got any killing toxins on me, more's the pity. Good poison's a bear to get out here. Bloody-bearded human 'honour'.
Is the portal in running distance? How many troops we got ready there? Not enough fer keepin' off the Taldans, I get that, but how many? Matey, we could settle this whole mess before dinnertime if I can get there quick with the human cow an' we have us enough troops! We'll be ice-cold heroes, us! Maybe even get us a reward from her Cold Majesty, hey? You could be looking at a Knighthood! You'd be Sir... er... Didn't catch your first name, sorry.
But hey! Here's to us, the Heroes of Irrisen! Drink up!" Droviz tops up the sprite's thimble and takes a sip from the bottle himself, chuckling not quite under his breath.
The winter-touched replies to Droviz's first question. "Not really, but Izoze runs messages sometimes back and forth. At least she used to..."
When Droviz lets on he didn't know about the portal, the sprite suddenly goes silent, then glares at him. "If you didn't come through the portal.... then YOU'RE A LIAR! You don't serve Lady Elvanna! The Witch Queen's wrath will destroy you most of all, for impersonating one of her servants!" A tirade of curses in Sylvan continues.
"What, you think she didn't hire local as well?" Droviz asks, innocently. "Not much confidence in her organizing abilities, have you? Successful campaigns alwas use infiltrators and traitors."
"Now come on, tell me," the masked warrior encourages the sprite. "The more I know, the better I can serve."
"Okay, yeah, got me bang to rights," the masked warrior says, chuckling as he gets up. "Don't get too angry though, lad. All I did was lead you on. Seemed a nicer way to get some information out of you than ripping out limbs or threatening to dunk you in hot water."
If things have come this far, Droviz picks up the cage, walks back to the others and reports, putting the swearing sprite on the table while he tells the others what it let slip.
"You've probably noticed my angry friend here caught on in the end," he says, "but I think we've got enough to be going on with."
Ragnar seemed surprised and confused at Krystae's request, but silently followed her. He didn't understand what was being discussed by the others anyway. He gathered that is was regarding the sprite they had found in the basement, but he little desire to fall prone to any sort of fae deception. Staying as far away from that situation as possible seemed like a good idea to him.
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After Krystae drapes the cloak around the giant's shoulders she takes a step back and examines him critically for a moment, chewing on the inside of her lip. She nods and suddenly slapping him on the arm with a grin. "Nu kommer du att skrämma även de döda, Ragnar! Denna kappa gjord för dig."
Ragnar looked down at himself, amazed at the craftsmanship of the fine cloak. The skin was taken from a great beast and perfectly cured. It was warm and soft and fit him like it was made for him. Never before had he possessed something so fine. His eyes went wide and he smiled a rare, childlike grin.
"Thank-"
The table jolted like it had been bumped and Krystae felt something tug at her own cloak. It was lifted away from her on the right, the corner balled up with little indentations that looked much like it was being held firm in the grip of someone small. Something else grabbed around her leg. She heard a wimper.
Ragnar suddenly looked very concerned and he dropped to a knee looking down toward her waist. "Det er greit. Hun mente det ikke. Jeg er fortsatt meg. Jeg mente ikke å skremme deg."
"It is alright. She did not mean it. I am still me. I did not mean to scare you."
Down on his knee he was the same height as Krystae. His pale eyes met her blue ones and sighed. "You right. They scared."
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Krystae froze suddenly as the unseen force took hold of her cloak and leg... This time there was no denying it, she felt it. This was not her imagination. Ragnar was not a disturbed giant of a man. He truly walked with the spirits... And that terrified her.
As he knelt down and their eyes met... Ragnar could see the mixture of emotions raging behind the ulfen woman's eyes; fear, intrigue, and admonishment. She glanced down at her cloak... then back up at Ragnar. "Vem är du, Ragnar? Verkligen." She whispered.
Ragnar seemed a bit bewildered for a moment, then took a moment to think. He took a slow breath and spoke carefully and quietly, his ancient accent taking on the rate and rhythm of Skaldic verse.
"Jeg husker sommertider…"
He continued for some time.
"I remember the summer-times when the land was full of great beasts and my people survived on wit and brawn. A time before this 'steel' and these 'cities' and 'writing' and the strange and petty grievances of the world I find myself in now."
"I remember the first days of men. I lived them."
"I remember my sixth naming day when my father, the great chieftain Kul Khan, banished the witch woman, a daughter of the Yaga, blaming the dark magic the witch had begun using to as the cause of my mother's death and the plagues which had beset the herds. The witch was shunned and her magics were made decreed anathema. In retaliation, the witch laid curses on the tribes and called creatures to drive them from their lands. The tribes did not run. Instead, the witch's disciples were hunted and slain. The conflict grew. The witch was hated, and she hated in return."
"Her hate fueled her magics and made them darker. She banished the summers and called down terrible winter storms to break us."
"We did not break. We were only made harder."
"In the end, she came alone to the tribe of Kul Khan during the longest night of winter during a bright and full moon. The curse she called was the end of my people. She gave form to the shadows and fed them her hate and they swept forth to engulf the village and creep into the tribe to set my people against each other like animals. The children were spared the curse, but they died all the same, slain by their parents and elders. Perhaps that was the intent, to visit on our own children what we had upon hers."
"I was enough of a child for the curse to miss me, but enough of a man to fight back and hide, so I did. I hid while my people died. The slaughter took three days and nights, all under the bright light of the swollen moon."
"Simply destroying my people was not enough for the witch. The curse she laid forced the souls of the tribe to repeat the Nights of Darkness over and over. The ghosts of my clan relived each moment as if it were the first, regaining flesh and bone every morning only to tear it from each other come nightfall, everyone dying once again by dawn. The only repreive was when the long winter's night met the full moon, and my people were shown the living world again for one night. It was just enough time for the spirits to realize what they had done and remember all the times it had happened before, before once again fading to the Aether-realms as forgetful, time-frozen ghosts."
"The tribe was caught between life and death."
"I was alive."
"The only survivor, a child of twelve summers, trapped in a village full of the mad spirits of my friends and family. Only the spirits of the children were unaffected by the Darkness. They helped me survive."
"In the ghostly fog of the Aether realms I did not grow up. I did not eat nor sleep. I did not change any more than the trapped spirits did. Only when the Nights of Darkness returned them did I need the necessities of life. I tried to escape many times, but the darkness always confused me and wound me back the way I came. Over the ages I grew, three days at a time when the moon was right, only able to speak to my loved ones after the terrible nights of slaughter while they grieved. By the time I was a man, ages had come and gone."
"Most nights I lived. Some I died, only to be returned to life again during the next Night of Darkness. As with he first time, if I could survive the night, I would not have to endure the agony of dying again, or the madness of being trapped as a spirit inside the aether."
"One particular Night, as I fought my father on the battlements something happened that never had before. He swung at the children I was guarding with terrible strength, and I leaped before the blow as had happened many times before in nearly every conceivable way, but this time, his blow sent me careening into the children and sent all of us over the wall. In that moment as I fell, I prepared myself for another age as a maddened spirit before the moon and the solstice aligned again. The impact against the ground robbed me of my senses. My last moment as the ground hurtling toward me were simple resignation that I would have to endure death again."
"I regained consciousness as dawn neared. It was the pain I was in that made me realize I had not died this time. I lay there once again listening to the cries of my friends and family coming out of the madness and realizing what they had done, surrounded by the spirits of the children who had died in the fall. I saw my father on the battlements as he regained his senses. He figured it out before I did. I was outside the gates at dawn when the Long Nights ended and would begin again. He threw his spear down to me and called out."
"He told me to live, and to speak for them."
"And the village faded away to nothingness."
"Without me."
"And now I am here."
"I am only Ragnar. I have earned no other names, nor do I have kin to grant them to me. I am no one. I am here only to speak for the dead."
He had not moved while he spoke, nor looked at Krystae. The patter of unseen feet stopped and the whispers that were often heard near him quieted. The fire in the fireplace burned low to embers and ceased it's crackling. It was colder while he spoke. Even the air seemed still.
"My father taught me that we are all given a name at birth. We only get one for free. The others must be earned. Who we are is determined by how we are remembered and known by others."
"I cannot tell you who I am, Krystae Stormcrow. I can only show you."
"You must decide what it is you see."
The story Ragnar told is an embellishment of a very old Ulfen fable. It is something akin to someone giving a first-person account of the story of Cain and Abel.
Elen listens to Ragnar, her eyes wide and thoughtful.
Elen recognizes the fable, and wonders at how this man has survived such an ordeal.
"hnh...interesting, if I listen to stories such as this long enough I do believe I shall be able to teach a nice history class as well."
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Krystae stares at Ragnar in open disbelief as he begins his story; however, the longer she listens, the more she realizes there appears to be no deception. 'Either he speaks the truth, or he thinks he speaks the truth.'
She suddenly feels another tug at her cloak... the inquisitor quiets her thoughts and listens to the story. A story that sounds similar to one her father used to tell her about the earliest days of the Ulfen people; it was different and much more detailed. If what he spoke was the truth...
"Ragnar, vad jag har sett är en ädel, orädd hjärta. Berätta för dina små Jag är ledsen för att skrämma dem och att jag är ledsen för deras öde ..." She stops a moment, looking down at the little fist gripping her cloak. She smiles sadly.
Ragnar's mouth turned up just a bit. "They hear you."
A resounding boom exploded into the mostly quiet basement as its door was flung open forcefully. The light of its lamp barely climbed far enough to fully reveal the person who almost unhinged the wooden barrier, but they showed enough of his legs and lower torso to show that he was armored. What followed the explosion of sound was slow, but nonetheless loud foot steps. The light slowly began to cling to the person who intruded on Krystae and Ragnar, and once it unveiled a face with three scars that was hidden behind the curtain darkness prior to its descent, it was clear to the two that it was Brynjar, his sword held in one hand and slung over his shoulder.
"Here I thought you were taking your time here because you found something that needed killing" The warrior's cold, blue eyes inspected the basement, his scowl only growing when it was clear that there was nothing to see "The servants of these witches have left me in a foul mood" His eyes then turned to Ragnar "Nice cloak" He commented with a neutral tone of speech.
Ragnar raised one of his thick brows, not really having a full grasp of the language or the nuances of body language to understand what was going on. He knew the warrior was upset, but he didn't know why.
He looked to Krystae and back again, waiting for some clue as to what was going on.
"Some thing... bad?"
"Hmmm, not to rush anyone, but I do believe that we need to begin making tracks soon.
The longer we stay indecisive, the longer our foes have to consolidate their power.
Besides, no doubt the lady wishes to return to more hospitable parts."
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Krystae grins over at Ragnar after Bynjar's dramatic entrance. "Nej, Brynjar bara cranky." She laughs lightly.
She turns to her companion at the look he gives her. "I told him you were cranky." She winks before listening to Havelock's words. "Agreed, Professor. Now we have come to an impasse. Do we all return to Heldren to escort Lady Argentea and give our enemies time to gather their strength? Or do we split our forces with one group returning to Heldren while the others proceed to this gate?"
"I doubt splitting our forces would be a very good idea, seeing as we do not know how many enemies may still be lurking in the area.
Our first priority now should be the lady's safety."
Brynjar looked to Krystae with what passed as a neutral expression when it came to him "I am" He replied simply before looking to the professor "I agree, in our state splitting our group is like inviting our foes to a free meal" He sighed in clear frustration, before he began stamping his feet against the stairs that lead out of the basement "I need to swing my sword at something" He said as he made his way to the ground floor, not bothering to hide the aggression in his voice.
The Tengu let out a loud caw at Brynjar's demonstration of bad temper, a clear sign of amusement on the part of the feather professor.
"Caw! Do not fret my martial comrade, I very much doubt it will be long before you have a chance.
If I am right, our foes will be warned about us freeing the lady thanks to the escape bandit, and they are sure to attempt to take her back ere long."
"I agree that we should return with the lady to the town first, then seek out this other force and see if we can destroy it as well."
After they pack up and leave the house, Elen will walk beside Droviz, away from the rest of the group, and speak to him very quietly.
Droviz jolts when Elen speaks, but he hides it very quickly. When he speaks, his voice sounds so normal that someone who does not speak Elven probably shouldn't notice anything. Probably...
"Well, truth be told, I wasn't gonna. I mean, people get a bit... funny about it, y'know? Not funny "ha-ha", more funny "grab the torches and pitchforks and let's burn this demon alive over running water". Ye'd see how I'm not eager to share that joke. Again. Ahem."
The masked warrior marches beside the Winter Witch in silence for a few more minutes -- and he really marches, like a trained soldier -- before he whispers to her again.
"Look, if it helps, I'm really not here on some secret mission to... gizhik it, what did that barmaid scream about again... to make stars fall or whatever other nonsense the demon-kissing priests have been up to. Back in Sekamina, I was a grunt, a soldier basically for hire, which is to say I'd work for whoever paid me, ran if they croaked or stiffed me on the bill, and found a new boss to work for. I'm not a member of a personal guard, not an elite knight. I just swung my sword for cash and then spent it on the bills and blessed my lucky stars that I was still alive. Except without the stars, seeing as I’d never clapped eyes on one before I came up here.
I don't know jack about secret world-conquering plans, because if anyone had stuff like that cooking, I'm not the guy who'd be droning the prayers to the demon lords, I wouldn't be designing dark spells of ultimate power, I wouldn’t even be standing around the big table talking about strategy, I'd be one of the guys who'd get the whip across their backs and get told off to get out of the barracks and either kill or die for the cause. I was doing security detail for a merchant... oh, let's be honest; I was doing security detail for a bunch of surface raiders for the first time and I tripped over my feet looking up at the sky and fell down a bloody mountain. I'm lucky to be alive, really, but the others left me for dead. Can't blame 'em; I'm a dime a dozen down in Sekamina, and they had skulduggery to be about.
Anyway, I’m here, I couldn’t be bothered to look for the way back too hard, and I don’t have any big, creepy plans – I don’t think they are, anyway. My plan is to do what I do, earn lots of money, and save up for a little kingdom of my own with no stroppy neighbours. A barony, maybe. I’d go as low as a duchy. Call it an island, somewhere in the warm seas, with good wells for fresh water and fruit growing on the trees all year long so I only need to reach up and pluck it when I’m hungry. That is the most amazing thing about the surface, you have no idea! Free, wholesome food, growing wild and often there’s no one to guard it! I’d like me an island in the warm with lots of fruit trees, get me a little harem in grass skirts and a castle. Call it a manor house. Uh, a harem for hire or by consent, mind! I’m not having slaves, that’d just be asking for trouble, and I’d be wanting things nice and easy.
So, yeah. That’s me. I’m just trying to earn money for my retirement as Duke Droviz of the Island of Perpetual Fruit and Grass Skirts. Maybe Baron Droviz. Go on, dream big, I’d be King Droviz, monarch of the littlest, happiest nation I could make it. I honestly don’t turn on folks if we’re earning good cash together and they don’t turn on me, I got no beef with anyone who isn’t trying to kill me or I haven’t been paid to deal with, I doubt anyone in Sekamina cares I’m gone, let alone that they’re looking for me – my folks and sisters should be pretty relieved, really.”
Droviz gulps, then continues.
So, that’s me. What about you? You said you know what it’s like to be judged on little information, so… what’s your story? If you don’t mind my asking.”
"The crown of the world is a starkly beautiful place, and the most amazing is at night when the stars circle around the north star, directly above your head... I'm sorry you never got to see the stars as you grew up. But, I digress.
"The first land we traveled through after making it back to Avistan was the land of the Linnorm Kings, and there I parted ways with the caravan because I found my calling as the third in a trio of witches, a coven, the eldest of whom had fled the land of Irrisen, the land whose queen apparently is the architect of this unseasonable winter. She hated Irrisen with a passion, because of her miserable childhood there, but also because they frequently attacked the lands she had found a home in. Winter-touched fey, winter wolves, trolls, and other monsters raided into the lands, killing farmers, destroying crops, seeking nothing but destruction. She taught me well, and you have seen the hatred I bear for servants of Elvanna."
Elen sighs, and gestures at her feet, as she walks barefoot through the snow, wearing a light summer dress while everyone else in the party wears warm boots and cloaks and coats.
"That is why I say that I understand prejudice and do not wish to judge you for the little information of your race. But, I was wary, you understand, and your words have done much to reduce that wariness. I would not keep this from them, if I were you. The truth is bound to come out eventually. You see that they have accepted Ragnar, who seems to be a man out of time itself, trapped in a loop that forced him to repeat each day, until he is now more ancient than the oldest elf who ever lived. I believe, may Desna smile upon me, that they have accepted me. If you give them the chance, they will accept you.
"But you can control how you tell them, if you do it without waiting until you have no choice. You could begin by telling them how you lived among people who worshipped demons, who forced you to serve them as a soldier, but you escaped when you had the opportunity. Then tell them more as they become accustomed to that tale."
Droviz looks at Elen's bare feet when she gestures at them, then back up to her face -- and winks.
The next moment, though, he heaves a sigh.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Droviz laughs out loud.
"Oh, aye," he agrees. "Sure enough. Also, the entry exam was easiest. 'Got your legs? Got your arms? Understand what I'm saying? Welcome to the army.'"
Elen giggles at that quip, her serious attitude finally breaking to Droviz's jokes.