Fortunately for the design crew, Katrine has some leftover pieces of tanned deerhide and elkhide kicking around in her tanner's kit. It isn't enough for the dress, but she can help make sturdy, water-resistant boots from Addy's design.
Katrine wakes around dawn as well, cocooned in her bedroll with Storm curled up at her back. She washes up as best she can, combs her hair, and spends an hour meditating on nature. An easy task in Elenthe's grove.
"Sounds good to me. Thank you for your hospitality, Elenthe. You have a lovely grove." Katrine smiles at the dryad as she buckles her breastplate on.
Pelipe slept near to the fire last night. When the weather is cold, she doesn't sleep as well. Despite having a cold-weather outfit, some furs, and a bedroll, she often will wake from the chill and tunnel back into her bedroll until warm. This happened most all through the night, but somehow she managed to get enough sleep. Upon waking, the mage will undo her braid and brush her hair. She takes time to feed and brush her horse and then study by firelight. By the time the sun rises, she is preparing a her prayers for the day to Abadar, and after, a ration for eating so they don't disturb anything in the grove and incur their host's wrath.
Once everyone is up and ready, she will make sure they leave the grove as they found it.
"I agree," she comments, gesturing to Katrine. "Very beautiful and comfortable to sleep in. Thank you. You will have to let us know at some point how that dress and those boots work out for you."
Pelipe will give a little wave, and when everyone is set, she will mount her horse and ride out. Once further away, Pelipe will voice her concerns.
"Do you think we should come into the hag lair with magical preparation?"
Addison enjoyed the challenge of using plant-based materials… but much more than that, she appreciated Katrine’s leather. Though Addy keeps some fabric in her kit, leather gave the strappy boots an all natural look. With Pelipe’s dress, Elenthe would look like a goddess!
“Can’t hurt to cast whatever magic can be on ye in advance,” VV replies to Pelipe, but with a disclaimer: “Not me area of expertise, though Endure Elements was always a personal favorite. And I’m becoming a fan o’ Wonky’s invisibility drink.” And speaking of, “How ye holding up, Wonky?”
"The Ditches is an awful ways off...I think," Elenthe cautions when she understands the party's plans. "It's certainly not within walking distance of my tree. I once thought to ask the Strouds for fashion and cosmetics advice, but I could never convince Horace to pay them a visit. He said they scared him."
Elenthe pauses to squeal and leap around when presented with the finished product of the design-minded party members. She presses the dress against herself to test it against her frame and spins an awkward pirouette through the bog. She suddenly makes a move to strip off her swamp moss dress, but Melianse stops her abruptly.
"Oh, right!" the willow dryad giggles, playfully slapping a palm to the side of her head. "Mortals have those...what did Horace call them? Morals? Norms? Hang ups? Whatever. I think they're annoying, but I'll play along.
"But anyway, if you want to find the Strouds, I'd recommend visiting the town of Glowerhaven. I've heard the sisters visit there so frequently that the locals hold regular celebrations in their honor, with bonfires and parades and everything! Thanks to Horace, I know it's not terribly far off - much closer than the Ditches."
Katrine wrinkles her nose at the thought of celebrations in honor of hags. She keeps her mouth shut about it though, focusing on packing up her bedroll and tanner's kit instead. "I'm glad you like our little project, Elenthe. It was relaxing to stop for a bit and create something."
The Vixen wonders if this means men choose to mate with the sisters. A festival honoring old ladies who rob the cradle one generation after the next?
She may not share Katrine’s bias against the hags, but the Vixen certainly has one. Be wary of it, the Child advises.
"An awful ways off hmm? It will be nice to replenish hay and rations if we are going into the wild. Oh gosh...maybe a bath??"
Pelipe lets out a pleasurable sigh to herself at the mere thought of a bath not involving either a frozen river or a snow bath.
"Nice, hot water..." she thinks as the mage almost seems to be smiling to herself like someone entertained. As their host begins to undress, she hardly thinks twice about it. Believe it or not, she has had to undress with ladies her whole life. It does become awkward to her though at re-realizing there are men there. At that point, she is glad Melianse stopped her.
Pelipe can, however, pick up on Ahto's mild irritation and reaches out to lay a hand on his upper arm briefly to halt his worry. "Don't fret. It is on the way. While not many have had the opportunity to study ancient and recent maps of the area, I've seen them. Glowerhaven is on the northern edge of Embreth Forest, at the Southwest portion of Mivon's territory. If follow Elenthe's directions we'll be going right where we want to be. If you would like to know more about Glowerhaven, I could tell you?" she cants her head a bit. If the information is welcome, once again, in a precise manner, she will explain what she knows for his benefit. If not the hardened warrior by his side he may be wishing for, she can at least be a reference for him.
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Ahto turns to look at Pelipe as she touches his arm. "At small bit of fortune, being on the way to our original destination," he replies. "Yes, Miss Pelipe. I would be grateful for anything you could tell me about Glowerhaven. It is always better to know as much as possible about potentially dangerous situations, be that danger physical or political."
Pelipe provides an explication that impresses even Wonky.
Glowerhaven is a rather dismal village, situated on the last stretch of solid ground between the Embreth Forest and nearby marshes. The climate remains temperate, and whilst the land is not prone to excessive flooding, tornadoes are known to occasionally tear across the wide, open region. There are stories of fey and elven recluses living in the deeper parts of the forest, but otherwise the population remains overwhelmingly human.
The village was founded by a group of Galtan expats who fled the Red Revolution some fifty years ago. They were led out of Galt by an exiled nobleman, one Viscount Archibald Glower, who only survived a handful of winters in his new home before succumbing to illness. A lingering fear of reprisal by embedded Gray Gardeners, the anonymous executioners of the Galtan anarchy, has inculcated an insular and suspicious attitude amongst the residents, which has only deepened over the past two generations.
Erastil is the predominant religion within Glowerhaven. However, perhaps owing to the village's remote location and the residents' penchant for superstition, they have developed their own localized sect that deviates from mainstream Erastilian worship in a few curious ways.
"...and coupled with that superstition is fear for their community. These "celebrations" are most certainly not celebrations according to the townsfolk. The hazards living in close proximity to the hags have been...tense...to say the least. I would even go so far as to say downright wrathful in response. From what I've heard anyways...witch burnings and the like..." she trails off as if sorry to put a damper on the mindset that the cheery Elenthe left them with. "But don't take my word for it. We'll see soon enough, and I wouldn't trust all my research either, as it most likely has bias from those who originally taught and wrote it. I'm sure you wouldn't have made such great friends if those who wrote my history books were in charge. I still have hope we can unite these two groups."
"Yes...but I'd be more inclined to believe they hold no sway and are violently hated by the populous of the town."
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"So there are two conflicting accounts at play: one saying the hags are breeding hordes of violent offspring by forcefully taking the townsfolk, and the other saying the townsfolk are persecuting the hags as witches. My previous statement bore the tinge of bias, and all the facts are not yet in evidence. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
“We’ve all our biases. Ye knew o’ mine when I spoke for Ash. But we’d never’ve such a stellar councilor had I said nothing.”
And that has to do with the topic at hand how? I’m getting on that!
“Elenthe is a friend o’ the sisters and admirer of their fashion. Katrine, yer father was wronged.” by your mother, the Vixen does not add. “And I know a thing or two about predators who use matters o’ the heart as a weapon, so I come into this with me own biases.
“Best we have ’em in the open then, now, so we know what to keep in check upon our arrival.”
"Superstition and fear of outsiders... another beautiful day in the River Kingdoms." Katrine gives Pelipe a wry smile. "While I have never been to Glowerhaven, I've encountered those attitudes before. Keep in mind that if they're familiar with the Strouds, they'll probably recognize me for what I am." She shifts uncomfortably in her saddle. "My guess is that they hold the festivals Elenthe mentioned as a means of placating the hags, rather than celebrating them. It might be best if I try not to be noticed."
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Wonky eats with gusto in the morning, demolishing three full days of rations before tucking into anything offered by the fey hosts.
"I feel quite good, in all reality, and happy to be returned to my former state of mental well-being, though I would not classify the experience that I had as ill-health in the least!" Wonky spouts brightly to Vixen at the breakfast table log.
When the notion of delaying their trip to Uringen comes up, Wonky's face falls.
"Duty calls often, does it not?" she moans slightly, then picks herself up, using industriousness as a deterrent to a poor mood. "Still, with the preparation that Elenthe and Pelipe have provided, it is not as if this will result in too long of a delay. The village of Glowerhaven is in our path, in all truth."
Pelipe, for the purposes of science, will need to document everything Wonky remembers feeling the night previous. How it affected her insides, outsides, and even less desirable topics such as waste. It is clear that the mushroom made the gnome famished and she watches with surprise at the amount of food the little one consumes.
"Well...that's good I suppose. You are far braver than I am though!" she chuckles through gritted teeth.
With the group feeling general unease about their situation, Pelipe is inclined to encourage her team in pure Abadarian fashion.
"I'm sure whatever we face, we will do so with logic, wisdom, and a good heart in companionship. We can't fail."
Perhaps optimistic, and full of crap, but she's not naive. She knows they all can die out here, but it's best to not settle on such things and take that opposite road that leads to gloomy thoughts.
Pelipe's geographic knowledge also provides the party with an accurate estimate of the distance that lays ahead of them. The city-state of Mivon, capital of the River Kingdom of the same name, sits some 60 miles south of Elenthe's swampy grove. After crossing the East Sellen River, the village of Glowerhaven is 40 miles to the southwest, with Uringen being another 30 miles southwest from there, waiting within the embrace of the Embreth Forest.
The first leg of this journey would normally be a slog, both literally and metaphorically, as you must cross the Hooktongue Slough. Fortunately, you have the boon of assistance from both a willow dryad and a nixie, complementing your own wilderness skills.
"We should be wary," Melianse cautions as you leave behind the dryad's home. "Elenthe may be one of the strangest inhabitants in the Slough, but she is definitely one of the more benign. Even putting aside this business of hags, there are trolls, boggards, and giants who make this vast swamp their home. Also watch out for the azure lily. It is quite lovely, but also highly deadly. I've heard it is highly sought by those looking to distill potent poisons."
“Ye’re not gonna, like with the mushrooms…?” The Vixen lips are pursed with worry, and maybe a hint of regret for blurting her concerns. “No, o’course ye’d not. Sorry I even asked.”
Some of you may have heard of the azure lily, either through studies or stories passed along. Many people consider it little more than a myth, but your fey councilor makes it clear that the flower is all too real.
"The look on your face makes me not want to say any more," Melianse says nervously, concerned for Wonky's well-being.
With a resigned sigh, she shares her knowledge. The lily is said to cause paralysis in anyone who breathes in its blue pollen, and it is greatly valued by assassins and bandits from all around. Expeditions from Pitax and Daggermark often venture into the Slough in search of the lily to bring back to sell in those cities' unscrupulous markets.
"Returning empty handed can probably be considered lucky. Many of these expeditions never return at all."
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Wonky levels a surveying gaze at her partners.
"I am not suicidal, friends - far be it from that. I am seeking a cure, a cure for something that has never been even before treated. I will not discard any potential lead on cures previously unknown, untested, or discounted. Of course, if something was a potent poison like this lily, I would not be so rash to think that it could be taken directly, but it might be used."
Wonky looks around.
"We are not looking for this azure lily, however. I will banish the thought from my mind - for now."
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Ahto rests a reassuring hand on Wonky's shoulder. "If we come across an azure lily along the way, we certainly won't begrudge you the time needed to stop and collect it. We all know how important your research is to you."
He turns to the others and says, "Let us be off. Our thanks to you, Lady Elenthe for your kind hospitality." He gives the dryad a respectful nod of his head.
"I think I've read about it in the past. I wouldn't say I knew that the pollen was the cause of paralysis," she considers as Wonky seems more interested. "Don't worry, Wonky. We'll get it done. Somewhere somehow, someone has to know something on how to reverse this." "Perhaps the divines?"
She keeps her eyes attentive and at the first sign of trouble, her magical armor is put on her. Hopefully, they can view any threats to their lives long before they are seen.
Katrine gives Wonky a skeptical look, but refrains from commenting. Hopefully they won't see any azure lilies and the point will be moot. "Well, standing here talking won't get us through the Slough. Let's go. Don't worry, Melianthe, we'll be on the lookout for any potential threats."
"Is someone going to be mapping the distance we travel? It would sure be nice to show this on a map someday. I'm afraid I'm ill-equipped to do so, but I could perhaps help?"
"I'll be happy to help as well, Wonky. I'm no specialist but I've made some decent maps in the past. Plus I'm pretty good at climbing trees to get a better view of the area."
You spend two days slogging through the southern Slough. You encounter a plethora of smells, more gnats than there are stars in the sky, and a wealth of plants endemic to the region. However, you do not run afoul of any dangerous beasts or monsters.
Likewise, you do not discover any specimens of the blue lily along your route. As Wonky, Katrine, and Pelipe document the terrain and geography, though, they form a hypothesis about likely places to find the rare, dangerous plant growing. Wonky marks a possible location on her charts, about a dozen miles west of your route. It would add another two days to your travel through the Slough if you should choose to make this detour.
Meanwhile, Katrine provides invaluable advice gleaned from her experience as a practicing cartographer. In particular, she conveys the importance on keeping swamp water out of your boots and keeping your feet dry, in order to prevent infections such as trench foot.
-Pelipe can cook. Very well. She will explain how life in her manor often was without excitement and so, as a child, she often spent time learning from their cooks. One will find her a non-typical noble in that she is not afraid to learn anything and be kind with all.
-You will learn that Pelipe studies information from many cultures; even different races. She fluently speaks dwarven, giant, sylvan, and draconic even.
-She has a great love for her horse and treats it with as much affection and attention as those with dogs give to their companions.
-Perhaps it is prideful of her, but she doesn't like the fact she is hindered by her past injuries. At certain times, she may be seen wincing after some particularly rough riding or physical exertion, but any guesses toward this will be met with laughter or a joke at how this can't be.
-The mage possesses magical glasses passed down from dwarven families. Clearly, at one point she was in good standing with them. The subject is a sore one though as if she has lost someone important. The glasses allow her to see details others may miss.
-In regard to her spells, she will explain that she is capable of enlarging people, manipulating how she looks, even the abilities and strengths of a person if need be. The young beauty seems to have a fascination with transmutation magic. She will go so far as to explain and express every spell she is capable of, and if anyone else has any she can learn from them, she would be more than willing to learn.
-While some pack down their animals, she mostly just makes her horse carry the excessive amounts of water and food for it alone. She prefers to walk, but given the long journey, she will ride her horse.
-If inquired of, there is no information unlearned from her background/personality/villainy section (within reason) that you will not experience or perceive. She is open with the group.
"That would be best," she answers the gnome. "Hopefully the flower is not in bloom."
Perhaps it is prideful of her, but she doesn't like the fact she is hindered by her past injuries. At certain times, she may be seen wincing after some particularly rough riding or physical exertion, but any guesses toward this will be met with laughter or a joke at how this can't be.
The Vixen is all too familiar with this sort of behavior. It’s been almost five years since…
She’ll chat with Pelipe when there isn’t an audience.
“I wish I could tell ye I’ve regrets, seeing how me intent is to tell ye it’s good for the soul to talk to someone willing to listen. But I’d never’ve met me wife if I’d done any different.”
She takes a couple seconds to think. What to say? What not to? She finally settles on:
“If ye’re on the fence, I can tell ye what’s been eating at me—and still is, to be honest. I told our Marshall, Ms. Eunomia Verto, after she told me her pain. We both witnessed the deaths of our best friends, so admittedly, our stories were similar.
“Still, I was thinking if I told ye mine, then ye can decide if ye’re ready to talk or not. But me point’s to not force the issue. So, do ye want to know what happened that I go around in a mask and heels, getting into fights?”
As the subject is broached, Pelipe remains silent. Her face doesn't really reveal what she is thinking except a general discomfort over private matters, but nothing in the form of irritation or something like that. After all, how can she refuse VV? Cautiously, the mage nods to hear the Vixen's words in full understanding that, by sharing VV's pain, she too would be forced to relive her own.
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Ahto spends the days keeping watch for trouble, loaded and cocked crossbow in hand. Whenever the ground appears treacherous, he walks out front of the carriage, directing the driver to guide the team where he indicates.
He ends each day by checking his armor, weapons and other gear, making sure they are ready for immediate use. He rises each morning and says his morning prayers.
On the first morning, he approaches Pelipe and says, "Miss Pelipe, I noted you carry symbols of Abadar on your person. If you wish to join me in morning prayers, you are welcome to so so. However, if you prefer your prayers to be private, I understand, and will respect your wishes. The offer is a standing one, should you choose to join me another morning."
He makes a similar offer to the other new companions, though he believes it unlikely Katrine ascribes to the Abadarian faith. He approaches Antonin with a more certain demeanor, as something about the man seems to resonate as one of the Church of the First Vault.
Once he has made the offers, he retrieves, then dons his vestments and begins his prayers.
“She was nine and I was ten when we met…”
“…when it came time for her big day, o’ course the wedding gown was ready well in advance, but not the fine Tien style dress.” The Vixen is wearing her qipao as she tells this story. Apparently, her qipao was originally a gift for her dear departed BFF. “I finished it on the wedding night.
“Maybe it was jealousy that kept me up. I’d convinced meself that I’d loved Vikki more than her husband.” The Vixen has to pause here. She removes the mask. Her eyes seem emotionless, like the eyes of a corpse. Tears start to trickle and the woman does nothing to stop them.
It’s Addison speaking now. “I couldn’t’ve known how right I was until I saw her body come morning. When I came to deliver the qipao, no one answered me knock. I let meself into the Bluebeard mansion, and followed me nose to a putrid odor. Vikki was still clad in her wedding gown, hanging by the neck from the rafters.”
If Pelipe is interested, Addy goes on to tell how she became the Vixen in that moment. After telling how she avenged Vikki’s death, she assures Pelipe, “I didn’t lie to the investigators. I was prepared to be punished for murder. Executed. I couldn’t imagine a future without Vikki.
“The investigators convinced me to plea self-defense. That, or insanity.” She slides the mask back on.
That is the very effect Vikki Finn had on her.
Addy was nine. Vikki was ten. The two redheads passed as sisters, and were destined to be BFFs for life. Vikki was the prettier one. Her hair didn't frizz up like Addy's. The privilege to braid Vikki's fiery locks more than compensated for envy. As the playmates grew into their teens, Addy found herself craving the touch of her friend's rosy cheek. One day bathing in the river, she gazed into Vikki's deep blue eyes and declared, "Ye're a mermaid, Vikki Finn." Her friend replied, "Addy, you're a fox." How those words made Addy's heart pound! Surely, Vikki saw the beat rippling Addy's bared breast!
Alas, Vikki was betrothed to Gill Bluebeard. Such a waste that a previously-married man would have a virgin bride, the very maiden Addy lusted over since her hormones kicked in. But her strongest feeling for Vikki was—and still is, mind you—Love. Thus, Addy was elated to be the bridesmaid on her "sister's" big day! She held her tears until the day ended, and spent the whole night finalizing the decorative trim on Vikki's gift, intent on delivering it come morning.
Surely, Gill would not resent the brief intrusion upon seeing such a fine eastern-style gown hanging in his wife's wardrobe. And oh, how the form-fitting dress would look on Vikki's body!
What could not be explained was the smell. Mansions smell of fireplaces, flowers, fine wine—yet it was the door to the wine cellar where the stench was especially potent. Instinct told Addy to flee. But Love told her, Vikki needs you.
The sound of a swing brought childhood memories of the subtle emphasis two ropes, a board and a fluttering skirt placed upon feminine beauty. Addy clung to this happy place in her past, until she descended the steps to a reality where her friend now swung, not from the old oak tree, but from a rafter in Gill's cellar.
Tears did their best to mask the horror, but the eyes—faded to a soulless ice-blue—had already imprinted their image on Addison's frontal lobe. The whole of it was overwhelming. Vikki was still clad in her bridal gown. And she was not alone. The rotting corpses of six other Mrs. Bluebeards dangled about the room.
The wooden ladder was still set by Vikki's body. Addy took out her fabric shears and cut her friend free. She must have spent the next hour holding her, sobbing.
Then Addy had a thought. You're a fox, she imagined her friend saying. "I love ye," she replied as she took out a hairbrush. It took a very long time for Addy to straighten her own curls, and even longer to braid them. "I love ye," she repeated as she stripped her friend. "I love ye," she said again as she dressed Vikki in her own clothes.
Naked Addison carried her fallen friend past the other brides, laid her body behind a wine rack and said, "Goodbye, me love." She embraced her friend for as long as she dared—then sprang into action.
Addy hastily streaked upstairs. Front door closed? Check. Gift? Grab it! Leaving the upstairs as it was prior to her arrival, Addy bolted back down, stowing the unveiled attire alongside Vikki's corpse.
Addy donned the bridal gown and those pointy white shoes. She practiced balancing with both stiletto heels on one step of the ladder, practiced clutching the broken noose with chin and neck. Only a fool would mistake her for hanging—but at a glance, this would work. A pale redhead is where she should be, Gill would see.
By the time he did, Addy's performance was well-rehearsed.
The unsuspecting husband tromped loudly down the steps. Tromp. Tromp. Tromp. He admired the disheveled frailty of the pale redhead at the end of her rope.
Until his eyes met the Vixen's. Green. Lively. Cunning. Predatory. Addy sprang like a fox, embedding a stiletto heel in the big man's throat! There it remained affixed to Gill's blue goatee. Addy stumbled on her lopsided footwear, grinning at the absurdity until calloused knuckles struck away her snarky satisfaction!
Thick fingers wrenched her neck, but Addy was stronger than most men. Vikki's killer would not be the exception. She broke free, dropped the man with a stomp to the kneecap, and as Gill Bluebeard lay prone, the Vermilion Vixen proceeded to bash the man's face against the basement floor until it was littered with teeth, blood, and Mr. Bluebeard's last bowel movement.
Addy left him in that undignified state. As for Vikki, she was laid to rest in the master bedroom, dressed in the vermilion qipao painstakingly crafted by her dear childhood friend.
...
The funeral did not bring closure. Addison wanted closure, wanted love, happiness, a bridal gown and a bride of her own.
But all the Vixen wanted was a pair of stilettos that don't break when you kick a man in the throat.
As Ahto approaches, she pleasantly smiles and listens. She was prepared to say her prayers soon, so it is a blessing to hear his offer and voice in the early morning hours. Her smile brightens.
"Of course I do. I think we both long for community and civilization--something that Abadar holds close. That doesn't work if you are alone."
From her prayers, he will notice she prays for laws, merchants, and wealth to come to Ahto's lands. She asks for travel blessings and protection. Her voice will passionately ask for noble leadership to have the wisdom to civilize the lawless frontiers, particularly in relation to the hags they are soon to face. Ahto will also find that while she is not a cleric, she is well educated and knows much about the religion. In the end, she comments that she is also very thankful that Ahto has religious implements often found in temples, as she has been without a temple for many moons.
"I can't put myself in your place to know what I'd do. Just hearing it makes my heart pound with vengeance and action. If that happened even to a friend of mine, the world couldn't contain my wrath...who knows what I'd feel for a loved one."
She sighs and places a hand over her ribcage and gently rubs where her ribs pain her.
"I am shamed by your openness. My struggles seem so trivial to me. I think that's why I laugh and disarm away other's concern for me." She pauses a moment in thought. "It's not that I'm so hurt I can't speak," she voices with slight pain. "It's that, I've lived a life of privilege. Who am I to complain? There are people such as you in the world who have felt real heartache and struggle. There are people who don't know where their next meal will come from and here I ride on a fine horse and carry with me the knowledge and skill my parents paid for."
Realizing she is subconsciously nurturing her wound, she moves her hands to elegantly rest on her lap. She then shares her ordeal:
"I was almost killed as a young girl. An assassin, seeking to send a message about a trade deal my father was working on, I think, crept in and severely wounded me. What I now know as a scorching ray spell struck me on my side here and threw me into the wall. It is said that I was a mere moment away from death when they happened upon me. The assassin thought he'd finished the job. To everyone's surprise, I lived." She shrugs.
"Ever since then, I have struggled," she will say with a roll of her eyes. "If I run, I must rest. If I cast magic, I am taxed. If I fight, it hurts to breathe and I am weakened. There was a hole in my side here that magic has mostly repaired. A remnant of that past still troubles me but I've never let it define or stop me. That's why I seem so dismissive. By all rights, it would please my family doctor if I would be confined to my bed. It would please my parents to not have me charge off into the wild. With my hindrances, this path may lead to my death, but I'd rather live for something than waste away in nothingness. Anyways..." she trails off, gesturing vaguely to the air. There is a certain wetness in her eyes. It is clear that while Pelipe still speaks down to the traumatic events of her youth, and the current pain she is in, they still severely consume her and pester her hopes and dreams for her life.
In a further effort to disarm the topic, she jokes, "I have a horrible scar. I can't wear absolutely anything that shows off my waist. It's simply not fashionable. I keep thinking, that if I wear full-length dresses enough, perhaps one day I'll con some noble into marrying me and then I'll shock my husband on the wedding night. That should be fun. The problem is, is that nobles are such gossips..."
Addison accepts Pelipe’s gesture. And she remains as Addison, mask still in her lap.
“Being rich don’t mean yer suffering matters less. And ye were just a child. Ye’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said, it took me years to become so open.”
It dawns on her what Pelipe is saying about her scar. And her husband finding out on…
“The wedding night, huh? Me father always said kick any man to the curb who can’t wait for the ring and the vows. I married a woman, but still, I followed me father’s rule… not that I was e’er so pure. Just circumstantial postponements: crush on me straight friend, years o’ pushing prospective women away, and then Ash and I were always too busy for romance. I think I proposed just to ensure we’d both be off-duty on the same night.”
She says this lightheartedly, but in a more serious tone she adds, “Ye’re beautiful. Any man willing to wait for the wedding night won’t run away on account o’ yer scar. You are beautiful,” she repeats, “inside and out.
“And including the scar, I imagine. I mean, ye're the one who’s attracted to men so correct me if I’m wrong, but ain’t Ahto the epitome o’ handsome? The scars might intimidate his foes, but I think they make him look like he’s carved from a mountain.
“Oh, and if ye tell anyone I commented on a man’s appearance, I’ll deny it,” she warns with a playful smirk. “Vehemently.”
The Vixen expresses her agreement with Wonky. She does not want to delay the arrival at Uringen, as it is the main reason she is away from her wife and the capital.
(She won’t object to any stops on the way back, as long as nothing urgent comes up.)
As her and Addison speak, the others nearby will hear Pelipe laugh about something audibly and cover her mouth and face. Clearly, whatever the two were talking about in the distance was humorous and secretive.
"I'll have to pass on this proverb. I'm going to write that saying down," she giggles in delight and listens further as Addy explains further how she and Ash were too busy. The girl shakes her head in shared frustration and empathy. "It must have been hard. Of course, it might still be. We do seem rather busy even now."
As Addison compliments her, Pelipe shifts subconsciously and turns the subtlest shade of pink despite her cold cheeks. That rosy hue is matched with a quiet "thank you". When she continues though, and even comments on Ahto, there is clearly a nerve struck and her face comes alive with expression.
"I'm guessing then that you're expecting me to say something regarding him?" she feigns as if she will not comment on Ahto. A sly smile indicates that isn't the case because a moment later she adds, "You're right though. He is good-looking. The scars don't bother me at all," she admits openly. Her mind travels to her own injuries and she wonders. She then continues speaking on the topic, albeit with a face shielded from prying eyes so that only Addy can see her. Her tone is one weighing out balances of good and bad. "He is strong. Capable. Noble. But probably too busy for anything himself. More than his looks, he seems to have a decent heart from what I can tell. He's not married? A Girlfriend? Does he like women?"
"That sounds best to me, Wonky. If we wait for the weather to warm up a bit, we might have better luck finding a lily in bloom." Katrine doesn't complain much about the conditions, but she doesn't exactly look happy about them either. The ranger, Storm, her horse, and her mule slog along with the resigned air of those experienced with traveling in less than ideal conditions. Somehow she's almost always able to make a fire and find game, fish, or edible plants.
When Ahto offers to include her in his morning prayers, Katrine smiles and shakes her head. "I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I prefer to meditate on nature by myself." It's a pretty normal practice among adherents of the Green Faith.
On the third day, you emerge from the swamp terrain of the Hooktongue Slough. As the ground grows more solid, and the tress become less dense, you can hear the terrible sounds of animals being slaughtered, accompanied by strange croaking sounds.
Not long after, you can see a party of eight humanoid figures hopping along in the distance, heading deeper into the swamp just as you are heading out. They look like large, bipedal toads with bulbous eyes and oddly jointed limbs. They carry a trio of freshly slain elk aloft, bound and suspended by their legs from carrying poles. They stare at you warily and, after exchanging some quick croaks, hurry along away from you back into the swamp.
"Boggard hunters," Melianse explains. "A large group, too. We should be glad they're busy with animal prey. All the same, let's hurry on our way."
...
The rest of the day and the next is uneventful, although you begin to pass farmsteads and ranches as the grassland gives way to well-traveled dirt roads. These signs of civilization are welcome comforts after the trackless wilderness of the Slough. They remain rather sparse, though, as the land never grows entirely dry. Those of you astute in geography recognize that the proximity of the East Sellen River ensures that much of this lowland remains marshy.
Before the afternoon sun begins to set, you spy the sturdy stone walls of Mivon ahead, rising from the marsh that surrounds it. The city-state sits at the confluence of two mighty rivers; wharves and jetties line the East Sellen as it bisects the city. The buildings within are largely wooden, predominantly one or two-story buildings. A number of granaries and livestock pens sit within the walls.
The city is ringed by a series of walled-off enclaves, looking like smaller villages with their own central keeps and communal farms.
They function as almost entirely independent communities, though still dependent on the city proper in varying measures.
On the subject to Pelipe’s apparent romantic interest, Addy doesn’t kid around. “Ahto hasn’t had any love interests to me knowledge since I’ve known him. He’s his own stone-faced way o’ dealing with the topic o’ love.”
Addy relives one of the Vixen’s memories.
“He was so supportive when I let the word ‘love’ slip. I think he knew it meant I was ready to give a normal life a shot. And I think he was happy for me.” Addy smiles warmly at Pelipe. And maybe there’s a hint of guilt for getting her to admit it, but… “I know I’d be happy for him, if.”
If what?
“The two o’ ye’d be adorable. Dead serious, Pelipe—I hope it works out.” For someone claiming to be ‘dead serious,’ her freckled cheeks are pretty pink.
The mage listens intently to these updates, logging them with great interest in the forefront of her mind, but she scoffs with a bit of sass at the mention of them looking well together.
"Well...it's a bit early myself. Although I wouldn't mind getting to know him a bit more if he ever takes an interest."
-----------------------------
"Croaking? Frogs? But why the screams of animals?"
At that moment, she determines it is best to activate her armored mask, but fortunately, Melianse explains before she does. Boggards. She gladly will avoid them. With the rest of the day passing and uneventful, she begins to see the signs of civilization.
"Oh good. Finally out. Look at us. Finding our way in the wilds. We've been very blessed."
She considers what she is seeing and is certain of what she is seeing.
"Mivon. That there is the East Sellen. You can tell by the color of the waters and the direction it flows."
Pelipe nods in confirmation with what Wonky states and thinks about what she also has learned of Mivon.
Mivon starkly contrasts with the untamed Stolen Lands and the rest of the wild River Kingdoms as an island of relative security. This is demonstrated when Ahto sees how the walls bristle with crossbowmen on the lookout for any signs of trouble. Even the wharves on the river are patrolled by crossbowmen. Although Ahto also sees evidence upon the city's walls that Mivon has endured sieges in the past, there is no sign that such conflict is presently on the horizon.
Mivon, both as a city and a state, has little in the way of magic traditions. Dueling is far more popular, even serving as a means for advancement in fame and position via the List of Suitors, a monthly publication listing results of the previous month's duels. Even non-Aldori who prove themselves by winning duels might be invited to train with the Aldori swordlords, perhaps even being offered a position within one of the noble houses.
The marshy nature of the region makes it hard to dig so much as a cellar within the city's environs. Historians and their assistants often travel to Mivon, arguably the most stable of River Kingdoms, to study the land's ancient history. This is challenging because of how fragmented its history is due to the cycle of violence from bandits, warlords, would-be kings, and monsters. Most ancient sites or peoples still extant are believed to be found in the deeper fens or within the Embreth Forest.
The city-state is ruled by Mayor Raston Selline, one of the most skilled of the local Aldori swordlords. He is aided by the High Council and the League of Merchants. As he is getting on in years, Selline has stated that the title of mayor will pass to whomever can best him in a duel - but to qualify to challenge him, one must first defeat a string of others in the List of Suitors, culminating in Selline's current protege, one Gaspar Tellick.
Whilst lingering hostilities sit in a state of cold war with Pitax to the northwest, Mivon does not currently take an aggressive stance with any of its other neighbors. The Aldori houses, though, see the Brevic throne as an enemy, bitter about being driven from their lands by Choral the Conqueror and his dynasty. Thus, there is perpetual scheming among the houses about how to reclaim Rostland. Considering that the charters to explore and settle the Stolen Lands which have empowered Lord Ahto and company were acts by Rostlandic authorities as a power play against the Issian-held crown, the Aldori of Mivon might see you as potential allies.
The city of Mivon fills a small, low-lying valley, and sits at the confluence of two branches of the Sellen River, neighboring a large fen. The kingdom’s greatest exports are eels and fish—fishermen and drab eel catchers haunt the byways and sodden trails of the marsh, and drag their catch to market. The swampy land is home to quicksand and sudden pools, and someone not native to the area might see a slow and gruesome death in the sands. Occasional bogs provide excellent sources of peat in more far-flung corners of the kingdom, and the Aldori exploit these as much as possible. Additionally, enterprising would-be lumber barons have started logging in the north of Mivon. Their only concern is the band of elves who’ve taken that forest; each side appears bent on total destruction of the other.
Lastly, Pelipe notices evidence that the foundations of city's walls are ever-so-slowly sinking into the marshy soil upon which Mivon sits.
In Mivon, the Vixen finds the duels interesting, but quietly scoffs. “A fight that’s truly fair’s a coin toss. I suspect honored combat’s seldom honorable. Magic enhancement, choosing opponents carefully, technicalities in the rules that one duelist uses to entrap the other… anyone challenges me, the only acceptable answers’re either ‘no’ or cheap-shot ’em then and there.”
In case that worries anyone, she assures the others, “O’ course I mean me preference’s to simply refuse, not bring trouble upon us. But know this: anyone challenging meself, Ahto, or any among us should be taken to be an assassin.” Grinning at Ahto and Wonky, she reminds them, “Cheap-shotting an assassin’s how we met. Remember?
“Felt so good kicking that creep.” She silently reminisces her first act as Ahto’s deputy.
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"With no intent of sounding arrogant, we are valuable targets to those who might seek to ransom us to the Lords of Restov, or simply kill us and take what we have built in Tamlyn. I would recommend we draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, and do our best to simply pass through."
In response to the Vixen's reminiscence, Ahto gives a small smile and nods. Then, as if having a sudden epiphany, he gives a quick command to stop the carriage.
"Hand me your helmet," he says to the driver. Ahto takes the helmet and places it one his own head, visor down. Leaving his sword stowed within the carriage, he climbs onto the back of the carriage, crossbow cocked and in hand.
"For the duration of our time in Mivon, I will act as just another one of the guards, unless it become absolutely necessary to reveal myself. My description may be known, and could draw unwelcome attention."
Once he is settled on the rear runner of the carriage, he says to the driver, "drive on."
“A helmet. Good thinking!”
The Vixen will also don the helm of the other guard, covering up her bright red hair.