"Let go!! Quinn, what has come over you?!" Tsin uses her full balancing just to stay upright, a man groveling at her snowshoed feet.
"Hektir, please!! Help me drag Quinn off me. It's obvious the drink has clouded his mind, making him do things he obviously wouldn't do sober."
Hektir again almost spits in the home.
"Awh, c'mon, Quinn. Instead of being unreasonable with her, why don't we go with her instead. I tells you what, I'll go with her and see if I can talk some sense into her," Hektir offers, going to grab his gear.
"It's not like she might not have a point. We might be bringing danger to the people here, including Nadya. Now, I ain't afraid of any witches, but they might be," Hektir says bravely.
"Didn't you hear what I said, Hektir? The girl is not herself! Foul magic grips her mind and we don't know what it will lead her to do. Now unless your words carry in them the power to unweave black magic of the worst kind, then there won't be sense to be talked into her."
Hektir glares at the old man.
"Bah! That's just witchfear. And I ain't got that. People gotta be free to make their own decisions in life," Hektir retorts.
However, a thought comes over the free-man.
"If what you say is true, Old Man, and if no words will sway her, what the heck is Quinn doing? You think violence is going to sway her mind?" Hektir again resists the urge to spit to make his point. "I think we should go with her until she recovers her mind. Ain't no use talking her out of it, just like you said."
"Talking should be the least of our concerns, you all." Tsin reaches down to pry
Quinn from her legs.
"Bah, that's just the point, she's not free to make her own decisions right now, someone else is making them for her. It'd be kinder to tie her up than it would be to let her wander off into the frozen night like this! And Quinn, to his small credit, is trying to restrain her, obviously."
Cantrips Prepared (4): detect magic, open/close, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (4+2+1): endure elements [X], forced quiet [ ], hydraulic push [ ], mount [ ], protection from evil* [X], snapdragon fireworks [ ] [ ]
Level 2 Prepared (1+2+1): protection from arrows* [ ] [ ] [ ], spontaneous immolation [ ]
"Quinn, please. I would rather not break your fingers..."
"So...someone else is making the decisions for her? Let's go find out who they are," Hektir says, trying to talk sense into the group...and feeling somewhat awkward about being the voice of reason. "Like I said, I'll go with her and keep her safe. If you want to come along, come along...or stay here."
Tsin will take minimal efforts to break free from Quinn, and head out. From the doorway, she shoots a worried look to the others.
"You really should be doing the same." She starts to trudge.
Hektir follows the woman out.
"I'm sure we'll be back soon enough. Sometimes people just need time to clear their heads. Come if you want."
Pems will head out after them. He knows he's too small to stop Tsin, but at least he can try to keep pace!
Quinn will head out with them as well.
About 45 minutes outside of Waldsby, you suddenly come to your senses, though you have no memory of the last hour since you were having tea in the White Weasel.
"What in the world...?" Tsin's first impulse is to reach for her falchion. She turns her head to both sides, hands on the hilt, and takes in the others' presence.
"I... I... was drinking... now I'm here... but so are you all..." Tsin rubs her forehead, as if trying to uncloud the time between then and now. She forgets her blade at present.
She looks down at herself, then looks around again, placing herself with respects to the village. "Please. I have no account of leaving the Weasel to end up here. The tea was only tea, I swear. And now it appears that we decided to leave Waldsby? Do we have directions? What has taken place here? Please?" Tsin becomes more and more worked up as she grasps for answers. Rokhar... not this again...
"Has anything... happened? Did I...?" Tsin stops talking, a slight heave in her breath, as she looks back and forth between familiar faces.
Malavarius glowers as the others leave the house, "Alright, fine! But you fools need to be wary of these witches and their magics." He then looks specifically at Hektir and his voice suddenly looses its loud and brittle edge, "I'm not saying be afraid, lad, I'm saying be wary. There's a difference between fearing a thing and respecting a thing. Just don't loose sight of the latter, my boy."
Malavarius follows along behind, as best he can in the snow. He keeps both bright blue eyes fixed on Tsin and a firm grip on his staff, prepared for the worst should the magics cause her to turn on the group.
----
"You've lead us on a merry chase through the snow, at night, in a place none of us are familiar with. If you're looking for something worse than that, you'll have to keep looking. We're lucky that the only thing you were compelled to do was go for a frosty stroll. Heavens help us if you'd have turned violent, girl." The last two sentences are accompanied by an arched, bushy eyebrow and look thrown Quinn's way.
Black feathers stand out against the white snow.
Tsin's brow furrows as she listens to Mal. "Compelled to do... yes. I certainly had no motivation to return to the elements so soon. Thank you for your numbers. I hate to think I'd have been walking out here alone."
A crow, separated from the murder. But not for long.
"What can I do to avoid this trouble again? Did Rohkar do something that still lingers?"
Two eyes. One black, one milky. Fate decides which one sees.
Hektir gently wraps his arm around Tsin and begins to guide her back to town.
"Don't worry about it, Tsin. If the Old Man is right, this ain't your fault. We'll go out tomorrow and pay a visit to them weak-tea and weak-beer selling fools. We'll have a long talk about how to treat visitors to the town. Won't we?" Hektir says.
Hektir gives her a clap on the back.
"We got your back...now let's go get some sleep."
"Stay vigilant, the worse may be yet to come. Why would a witch risk exposure in the pub simply to send Tsin on a walkabout, did she send her to this location for a purpose?" Quinn casts light on his morningstar and peers into the gloom for sneaky assailants.
Quinn, you don't see anything, though the light casts eerie shadows amid the falling snow.
"Witch? What witch?" Tsin's eyes narrow on Quinn, as she tries to remember. Remember a face. Mark a face.
"Are you sure it was a witch? And if you're sure, can you point her out to me?" A new flush rises in Tsin's cheeks.
"Lets go home. It's late. Time for bed."
Hektir returns to Nadya's.
Nadya has returned home by the time you arrive there.
"Where were you?" she asks, concern in her voice. "I was beginning to worry something had happened."
"Some witchy witch cast some witchery on Tsin, while she was drinking tea none the less! Does that seem right to you?" The still perturbed Quinn slightly de-thaws at being back indoors and warm.
Nadya looks surprised.
"There are no witches in Waldsby that I know of -- and I think they would make their presence known -- but I did say you should be careful. I think you should stay inside for while, until you are ready to leave."
Quinn looks even more surprised than Nadya, "That wasn't a witch that made Tsin almost kill herself!" As an understanding of the monumental task ahead of them dawns on Quinn, he turns to his companions, "Good Gods, this is a disaster! Those witches will witcherize our thoughts! What did you all let us get into?"
Tsin takes off the snowshoes, and places them in their original location by the door.
"Perhaps we should return to the Weasel, so someone might be polite enough to point out the weasel?" Tsin hasn't removed her sword and scabbard.
Nadya looks concerned.
"Please, do not borrow trouble. If you plan to try to get Thora back, it would not do to anger the witches before you go there," she pleads.
"I think we've had just about enough wandering about for one evening, don't you, Tsin? I agree with Nadya. It'd be best if we stayed here rather than galloping about wagging our tongues drawing even more attention to ourselves. If you're concerned for our gracious hostess' safety, that's how you can best ensure it: by staying quiet!"
"This time I'm inclined to listen a bit better and stay put until we leave town. Besides, Tsin, I'm not sure I could pick her out, everyone wears the same hat in this town. Let's get the supplies we need, including lots of fire, and head straight for the tower."
Hektir heads for bed, rolling out his bedroll on the floor (unless Nadya invites him in) and getting some sleep.
He had thought about returning to the bar, but it's too late for that.
"Tomorrow, people. Tomorrow. It's been a long day."
Pems stays quiet on the way back, feeling, not for the first time, in over his head. He finds a warm corner, spreads out his bedroll and curls up with Flash, falling into a troubled sleep.
Tsin doesn't look happy. "I don't even remember paying for my tea. I won't leave that til tomorrow. At least let me return to pay my debt." For the drink, of course. Only the drink.
Malavarius slams the end of his staff down onto the floor with a loud and resounding crack, "NO!" He points gruffly to Tsin's bedroll. "Go to bed, young lady! So help me!" Bristling with anger as only very old men can, Malavarius fixes the butcher's apprentice with a grandfatherly do-as-I-say-right-this-instant stare.
Recognizing the tone of the wizard's voice, Zeno darts with a muted to a perch above the fireplace and promptly tucks his head beneath one of his wings, surreptiously sneaking several peeks when he thinks no one is looking.
Hektir throws a pillow at Mal.
ranged touch;
feather damage.
"Dammit Old Man, keep it down! The kids are asleep and I'm trying to get to bed here," Hektir yells quietly. "You can yell all you want tomorrow. I'm sleeping now."
* * *Presuming Hektir can get some dang sleep * * *
Hektir awakes early to help around the house, the kind of house with children he hopes to have one day for himself (except his dream house isn't surrounded by witches & snow and not filled with screaming old coots.)
He will start the fire, chop some wood, and spend an hour in quiet mediation, talking to the earth and land to get a better sense of things in his new environs.
"I think maybe we ought to scout that there witch fortress before we assault. Might fight a weakness or a better way in, huh?"
"Fine." Tsin moves to her bedroll, squats down, and sits in a crossed-leg position, back firmly upright. "Good night, Mal." She waits patiently, eyes bright. "Rest soundly." Tsin has never been on her guard more than she is this night.
Malavarius watches quietly as Tsin manages to defy him while still mostly obeying. His countenance softens suddenly, having never seen the strong-armed woman as childlike as she appeared now. He leans his staff up against the by the front door, hangs his new hat from the head, then walks over and gingerly lowers himself to the floor beside Tsin.
"Oooof! Mmmm, it's a terrible thing, growing old." He pats Tsin's knee affectionately, "There, there, my dear. I can only imagine how upsetting this all must have been for you tonight, but it's passed and here we are in a lovely, warm home now. There's nothing to be done for what's already happened. There never is, sadly." His face falls a bit, long distant sorrows playing at the corners of his mouth. "Would it help if I studied my protective magics more in the morning? I'll even scribble a few scrolls if we find the time before setting out if you'd like." He rubs her back encouragingly and seems willing to sit with her until she's calmed down and more at ease.
Tsin watches warily as Malavarius approaches. A light look of resignation passes over her face as he settles to floor-level. She stiffens at the pat on her knee. "Mal, this is the second time I've had my mind clouded. Become someone else's puppet." Tsin turns her face away from Mal for a brief second, letting her cloak catch a newly fallen tear.
"I'm no good here if it can happen that easily. It makes me weak. And by the looks of our new realm, the weak do not last long." Tsin looks at Mal, catching hints of his own sorrow. "Yes. It would help ease my easily addled mind to know that something could be done to parry these manipulative magics. They have no right to do that, Mal. No right at all." And I'll make them pay for it, pay in red. Tsin doesn't flinch again when Mal places his hand on her back. She actually leans towards him a bit, her head lowering to her knees.
Despite her best intentions, Tsin finds herself growing ever more sleepy, an odd lullaby that she can't quite recognize seeming to run through her thoughts. Though she fights it, a short time later, she falls irresistibly to sleep.
When Hektir awakes early the next morning, he discovers his clothing has been cleaned and neatly put away, his snowshoes leaning against the wall, furs arranged on pegs set into the wall. His backpack and weapons are missing!
Pems wakes and yawns, stretching his arms widely. Hearing Hektir's swearing, he blinks sleepily and peers at him. "Whatsits problem, Hektir? Whyya shouting?"
Quinn considers their lack of gear with a surprising bit of cheer, "Well, that seals it, now we have to travel to Katapesh for sure, only way to get resupplied."
Hektir awakes early to help around the house, not quite understanding that he went to bed clothed, only to wake up naked (as is he usual while alone in the woods).
He begins working around the house before it becomes clear that he less clothed than he probably should be...especially around women and children.
He dresses quickly, noting his cleanliness of his clothes. He doesn't think too much of it.
That Nadya is going to make a fine wife...if she can undress me during the night and clean my clothes, we're going to get along fine. She's a fine catch, I say.
He will start the fire, chop some wood, and spend an hour in quiet mediation, talking to the earth and land to get a better sense of things in his new environs. It's clear that he wants this kind of house with children and he hopes to have one day for himself (except his dream house isn't surrounded by witches & snow and not filled with screaming old coots.)
He later looks for his weapons...and hunts down the children to get them.
"Nadya, have you seen the kids? I think they done took my weapons so they could pretend to be like me. You know, all manly and strong? *pose* *flex*" Hektir poses and flexes his new be-witchified muscles. "Don't suppose you could get my weapons back now?"
Quinn stretches and flexes as well, also completely naked and entirely unconcerned about it, a side effect of being raised by people with liberal moral standards. It's a shameful sight, if anyone is the sort of person to be easily shamed, which Quinn certainly isn't. "Jeez Hektir, this is better than sleeping in the woods, clothes not required and it's still warm!"
Tsin awakens, a dawning disappointment that she was unable to see it through the night. The disappointment turns to confusion, which starts to simmer into a new anger, when she is unable to locate her possessions.
"I'm seeing that I'm not the only one here who is searching, and not finding. This morning was supposed to be full of new hope, and new direction, and we appear to be hopelessly lost." Tsin tries to make the best of waiting for Nadya to show herself, and explain what might have transpired under her roof. Tsin roots through the foodstores still remaining.
Nadya smiles.
"I doubt it was the boys. It was probably Hatch. He is domovoi who helps around the house. He probably put your things away. He does not like clutter."
A domovoi is a type of reclusive sometimes-helpful fey known as a house spirit.
Know (Nature)
Hektir nods understandingly while looking around.
"One of them house fey, eh? Mind asking it where our weapons are? We might need to defend ourselves against witchery and our swords would come in handy," Hektir notes to Nadya.
"Maybe we might go confront the witch that made the weak, bad tea yesterday. She might give us some information to help us out."