Winter falls away to spring, giving rise to summer which in turn makes way for fall and eventually, the world hibernates in winter again. Time turns away in an endless cycle of summer, fall, winter and spring. Well, everywhere except far away Irrissen, locked in eternal winter. But that is not your concern here in the sleepy village of Heldren, where summer has reached its peak. This little village, resting in the south of Taldor, nearly on the border of Qadira, need not worry about much but the struggle of day to day life.
The intense heat of summer presses down on Heldren’s usually quiet streets. Today though, those streets seem crowded, making the heat worse. A cool breeze passes through the small town, and instead of sighs of relief, it brings gasps of alarm, and hurried conversations. Talk of unnaturally cold weather in the nearby Border Wood has spread through the streets like fire. Hunters come bearing tales of heavy snow coming in only a few days ago. The snow and cold seemed to bring despair and, worse yet, new, dangerous predators. No one knows what this event means, but the town's soothsayer, Old Mother Theodora, claims that, unless something is done, dark times lie ahead.
The town square is filled with people talking to one another, shrinking at every breath of wind--Did that seem cold to you?--and waiting with an air of feigned patience for the village council to end their meeting. You stand among the crowd, the statue of the Lady looking over the milling mass of people.
Trying to stay away from the mob of people and in the shade of a tree where she has her wares set up, a very slender woman with long, pale white hair sits on a blanket. She wears a loose, white robe of airy fabric and has a strip of greyish cloth bound across her eyes. The fabric must not be thick as she keeps ready track of those who have been coming to view her jewelry easily catching the children when they try to sneak away with something. She has been drinking regularly from a pitcher of water that has a great deal of moisture condensed on the outside and, every so often, she says a few words and points at the pitcher sending a ray of blueish energy into, the water on the surface developing a rime of ice when she does.
She seemed almost relieved as she felt the cold breeze sweep through the streets and somewhat amused by the peoples panic. They think this is cold? They're rather spoiled with all this horrid heat. What I wouldn't give for it to be winter here, it'd be so much more pleasant. Of course with the abysmal heat now, I doubt the winter would be much better. Whatever brought me here, I wish it'd hurry up, I'm ready to leave this god forsaken place and go somewhere colder. Despite her inner thoughts, she keeps a rather sharp eye out for anyone who might be interested in her wares.
A tall, strangely dressed man jostled his way through the throng of people, sweat gleaming off his skin.
He heard snippets of conversation, cold... blizzards... snow...
He chuckled quietly to himself, these people must be smokin' something funny .
A pale young woman and her jewelry catches his eye.
Jamarcus strides forward, surveys the wares on the tarp, and points at his thick gold chain.
Ya got anythin' like this?
A forest of people of all sizes impeded his every move as he made his way through the town square; the running children occasionally bumped into his legs, most of them not even bothering to apologize, while the adults excused themselves awkwardly as they tried to pass through the living, shifting maze. Murmurs of the sudden cold breeze and the news of snow were something to be ignored for Lars, for the pleasant sound of the cooling breeze and the sweet laughter of beautiful women deserved his attention were far more deserving of his attention. Then another sweet melody invaded his ears, it was faint but he'd not it anywhere, the inciting chime of coins being exchanged.
A smile crossed the former pirate's scarred face as he pushed through a sudden opening in the wall of people in front of him I've known a couple of people in Riddleport who would have loved it here...so many easy marks, so many... His train of thought halted as he realized he was among these "marks". With his left eyebrow raised slightly Lars blue eyes began shifting from left to right, his ears tried to focus on footsteps that were closer to him than anything else I may only carry a few coppers but that doesn't mean I plan on giving them away.
With a quiet sigh, Lars moved forward and continued on his way towards the smithy. His long strides held back because of the crowds, but his good mood still intact Maybe the old man has heard of a few orders for locks, with any luck these people will grow a little more worried about their belongings Another grin crossed his face Look at you Lars thinking about honest work, maybe you'll even get married, build a farm and swat your kids on their bottoms for not listening to their mum.
Looking at the man who walks up to her, Mirri listens to his question and replies in a somewhat rough Taldane, "I'm afraid not sir, all I have are what you see before you, items of various stones, bones, and other things I've found on my travels to this place. Precious metals like gold are not normally found lying on the side of the road. Let me see here, maybe you'd like this one..." She pulls out a pendant that is made largely of clay beads with a color not so dissimilar from gold that are strong on sinew. There is also a quartz spear that has a yellowish color hung off of a bone mounting. She look between the pendant and his indicated gold necklace and says, "This is as close as I have to gold."
"Ambrose, stay still! I won't have you running off into those woods at the first sign of anything even remotely out of the ordinary!" Theora scolds, wagging a finger sharply at her son. The boy sighs, hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
"But mooooooom, the hunters say it's snowing there! Something's going on, and I wanna see what it is!"
"Nonsense. You'll stay right here where I can see you." Theora sighs as she straightens again, watching Ambrose as he shuffles awkwardly in a small circle, trying to stay warm in the unseasonable chill. "Would you rather go inside and have a nice cup of tea?" she asks gently, taking off her own crow-feather mantle and draping it around the boy's shoulders. "You don't have to wait out here just because your old mother does."
She watches her son shake his head, brown eyes fixed on the ground. He looks just like his mother, she thinks sadly, watching his dejected movements, the slump of his shoulders. She leans on her willow staff with another sigh. "Ambrose, go inside. Have a cup of tea, and pour one for me as well. If the elders aren't done soon, I'll just get the news from Tessaraea later," she says quietly.
Ambrose nods twice, before making his way back to the small cottage. Theora watches him go, shaking her head. They grow up so fast, she reminds herself, looking over the gathered crowd. Thirteen years here, he's probably feeling stifled.
Jamarcus picks up the trinket in his scarred fingers and squints at it for a few moments.
Naw, dis ain't my style
He stoops down and places the bauble back onto the tarp, as he kneels on the ground, he shrugs off his rucksack and takes out a small keg and two beat up copper cups.
The large man sloshes the liquid briefly, deftly uncorks it and pours out two measures of ale. A toothy grin flashes across his face and points to the frosty jug.
Help a brotha out?
From the general store, a tall androgynous man with a stern expression steps out into the heat of the main (and only) plaza of Heldren. The man seems out of place, for he is dressed for winter: he wears a set of scalemail covered by a few layers of furs on the torso and abdomen, a long dark green woollen cloak rests on his shoulder and a yellowish scarf is wrapped around his neck. Drops of sweat start making their way across his forehead which he wipes away, making it clear that he is overdressed rather than immune to the heat.
Grimkell breaths in deeply as a cool breeze makes its way across the town square and, for a moment, seems to linger around him. In contradistinction to the inhabitants of Heldren, the ulfen is clearly not worried by the breeze for his eyes smile at the event. As he does so, he thinks back on what Vivialla Steranus was telling him while he was selling her furs:
Cold, the appearance of snow in summer… that would explain the strange patterns of wind in the sky… Strange happenings in a small town without any protection… This would make for a perfect tale. I hope some of the villagers will stand up and investigate.
Grimkell slowly enters the crowd, trying to make his way toward the Silver Stoat. However, upon hearing the speech of magic, he stops in his tracks and looks right and left, trying to find the source of it.
Jadwiga, here? After so many years?
Finally spotting of the woman selling jewelry, Grimkell makes his way toward her. So focused is he that he pushes some town folks out of his way without even noticing. Upon arriving at her stand he stares directly at her and starts speaking in a tongue of the north:
"Ядвига, что ты делаешь здесь, в центре города? Вы так мало уважения к жизни, что бы вы убить всех этих людей просто убить меня? Или, может быть, вы верили я бы не решился напасть на вас в толпе. Подумайте еще раз, говорят магию, и они будут ваши последние слова." he says, his voice intimidating and eyes piercing.
Strangely, those nearby can notice that the ulfen’s eyes look elvish. Yet, his ears are those of humans and so is his language. There is another “something” about him that make his heritage uncertain, however, it is hard to grasp exactly what.
Her expression a bit disappointed at the lack of a sale, Mirri nods at his request and hits the cups with a ray of cold, "There you go." At the appearance, and sudden belligerence in the strange words of this man, Mirri says to Grimkell in the common tongue, "I have no idea what you just said, but it didn't sound pleasant. I've done nothing to you so if you aren't buying something then I ask you to leave this man and I be."
Stepping out of an alleyway, a medium-height man with black hair and striking sapphire eyes appears. More than the exceedingly heavy clothing he is wearing in the Taldane summer, the large pure-white wolf at his side and his noticeable limp make him stand out amongst the other various inhabitants of Heldren.
With a holy symbol of Nethys hanging from his neck, it is easy to guess that he is Doctor Gii, the town's newly-arrived Nethian priest. Giving his wolf companion Matias a pat on the head as he turns towards the town square, the cleric leans heavily on his walking stick as he goes to see why everyone is gathered.
Taken aback by Mirri's answer, Grimkell moves backward, taking a less imposing stance.
No accent, no reaction to what I said... so it is not a Jadwiga. Oh!
Only then does he take a better look at the women, noticing her slender features, and most importantly her pointy ears. Grimkell's eyes open slighly wider in surprise and shame. Without apologizing, or heeding her demand, he starts speaking to her in Taldan.
"I mistook you for someone else. You should be careful with that magic of the north, it is often the mark of wicked creatures. Some people might not even look... but I digress, you clearly are not one of them. You are an elf, aren't you? But not as most elves are... what sets you apart? " in mid discourse the attitude of the ulfen strangely changes from cold and distant to genuine curiosity.
Grimkell leans forward, observing the elf from different angles, almost fascinated.
What tha' f$++ you all talkin' about? Elves n' pointy-ass ears n' magic n' shit. This here's a pale-ass girlie with a skin condition. Y'know where I come from, interruptin' me jivin' with this fine-ass honey would get you an ass whoopin', son.
Jamarcus stands up, brushes the dirt off his bright purple jacket and glares at the newcomer.
Taking a large swallow of her water to hide her amusement, Mirri speaks to Jamarcus, " Please calm down sir, there's no offense taken, he's right to be fearful of what he thought I was." She turns her attentions to Grimkell, "Yes, that magic is normally an indicator of evil witches in the north. The cold of the frozen tundra, blizzards and ice flow through my veins. Unlike those jadwiga who force their control of it, mine is natural. As for what sets me apart from most elves you've met is the fact that I come from farther north than the jadwiga. My tribe had as little contact with them as possible. It is a rare person who can find winter elves in our native territories if we don't want them to and even most of the witches aren't that good."
Having answered the man's questions Mirri looks at the two, "Please, join me at my carpet and let us speak of many things. I'd like to know about each of you, who are you, where are you from, how'd you come to be here?"
Conversations come to a halt as the sound of hooves beat on the cobblestones to the south. Heads swivel in that direction and gasps run through the crowd in little waves. The Ulfen man riding in is badly wounded. His blonde hair and beard are matted with blood and a makeshift bandage is wrapped around his head and one eye. His fingers and nose have taken on a blackish color. What’s more, he seems to be tottering in his saddle as the horse moves briskly into the square.
The crowd parts leaving an open space shifting around him as he moves. He stops, leans forward, a dangerous angle that seems only a hair’s breadth from throwing him out of the saddle and on to his head. His lips part and one word comes out of his mouth in a thin, raspy voice barely better than a whisper, but with the complete silence that has fallen in the square, it’s audible for quite a ways around him, “Help.”
Watching the scene unfolding by the stall with a wary eye, Theora turns to face the direction of the gasps, letting out one of her own when she sees the condition of the Ulfen man.
"Step aside, dearies; there we go," she mutters, shuffling through the crowd towards the horse and rider, leaning heavily on her willow staff. "Alright, let's see what old Mother Theora can do for you."
Clicking her tongue as she looks him over, she offers a large hand to him. "Come on, dear," she says in a soft, calming voice. "Let's get you down and inside where it's warm. Let's see what we can help you with." As she lays a reassuring hand on his arm, she mutters a few words of a simple healing spell, hoping to ease the man's pain.
A mask of calmness remained on the face of Lars as the scene unfolded towards him. The worried whispers of the populace threatening to not allow him to hear what was being said by the one who attended the wounded man Quite the place this is, in Riddleport or Port Peril a wounded man would have probably been stripped of everything valuable, and if he had a horse...well I knew a few captains who considered that a delicacy Lars had to fight not to let a smirk appear on his face as he closed the distance towards the wounded man in a rather aloof manner.
"Alright everyone, you'll want to part once more now so we can move the man" He announced as he towered over Theora and her patient I'll want to know who attacked this man, and I'll bet he'll be in a talkative mood after he's warmer...and Fabron always said "If you find a dying man it's best to look for those who didn't finish the job, their probably richer" Once more Lars pinned down his desire to grin.
"Let's get you near a roaring fire" Kneeling down, the would be locksmith placed one arm under the back of the Ulfen man and the other under his knees and lifted him up and began moving towards the Silver Stout.
His ego appeased, Jamarcus deflates a little bit as the tension slips from his shoulders. He peers over the milling crowd and notices the ministrations and whispered phrases of the matronly woman, and rapidly knitting wounds of the blonde stranger.
A few choice words are grumbled in a completely alien language
Όλοι εδώ πήρε δαιμονικές δυνάμεις funky - κώλο , τι στο διάολο μια brotha « έπρεπε να κάνω;
Turning back to the slender, pale figure behind him, Jamarcus speaks again in rough Taldane:
You wanna talk? Let's hit up that joint over there, drinks on me
He narrows his eyes at Grimkell.
YOU can buy yo' own drinks
Gii and Matias quickly approach the strangely-afflicted Ulfen man and those surrounding him. "What seems to be the problem?" he asks, his bright eyes trying to diagnose the man's ills. At his side, the wolf pants softly, pressing into his master's side.
Grimkell hadn't really taken notice of Jamarcus until his interjection. Prepared to intimidate the inopportune meddler, the ulfen's attitude quickly changes when he notices that he is not facing some ignorant taldan farmer with a strange patois but a grown man that appears to come form a far away land. A smile dawns on the corner of his lips. However, before he can erupt in a bout of laugher, he is interrupted by the wounded rider's arrival.
Grimkell looks with curiosity as the situation is taken care by three residents of Heldren, including some kind of priestess. His eyes follow the group as they head toward the Silver Stoat. Turning back towards Jamarcus and Mirri:
"I'll pay your drinks strange man and educate you on the elves if you tell me more about where you are from."
Grimkell motions to Jamarcus and Mirri to follow him toward the inn.
The man nearly falls out of the horse as he climbs down, but he ends on his feet. He shivers as the curative spell washes over him, and his legs seem a bit stronger. He ambles across the road with Lars, through the parting crowd to the tavern, joints stiff and unmoving. “We were attacked. They took Lady Argentea. Took her into the Border Wood. Everyone else is dead.”
The door to the Silver Sloat is opened by one of the crowd. Kale, the bartender, is shocked to stillness for only a moment before she comes running over. She calls over her shoulder as she does, “Menandar. A bowl of stew.” She takes another look at the man, then calls back,“No, not stew. Broth. Quickly.” She grabs a chair bringing him over to the fire. “Has anyone called Elder Safander?” She looks at those helping, then sees Mother Theora and Doctor Gii. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’ve got it in hand.”
It is not long before Menandar comes out, a steaming bowl in hand. “What’s all the fuss about, Kale?” He stops as he sees the wounded man.
“None of that now, give me the broth,” Kale says as she rushes up and grabs the bowl. She bustles Menandar back to the kitchen then brings the steaming dish to the Ulfen man.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. He begins to slurp greedily at the contents, despite how hot it must be.
Kale nods and finally turns to the three customers. “What can I get for ya? Some Three Devil Ale?”
Gii adjusts his spectacles before following after the injured Ulfen man and those trying to help them. "Brothers, sisters, what has happened?" the Nethian repeats his question, stopping behind Grimkell and Mirri. Matias sits just outside the door of the tavern his white tail wagging and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. For a wild animal, he appears exceedingly well-trained and behaved in the middle of a town.
"Water and bread will do" Lars gave a small smile to Kale before turning to the man who was devouring the food offered to him I'll want to pay attention to what our injured friend is saying The Varisian grabbed himself a chair within arms length, dragged it closer, causing the wood to whine as it skid across the floor.
"You said you were attacked, by who? And where?" Lars sat down, crossed his arms, leaned back and let his lips form a neutral straight line
Nodding her acknowledgement of the offer Mirri moves to her knees and begins to put away her wares, "I'll join you both then, it's unlikely that I'll be selling many trinkets today, at least not right now." She puts away her various bits and pieces of jewelry and then rolls up the blanket that she had laid out on the ground, stowing it as well, before picking up the pitcher and following the three inside. While she hesitates at the appearance of the rider, she knows that she has little she can do to help so she continues into the pub.
At the man's question Mirri replies holding up her pitcher, "I could use some more water, and if stew if I could. Do you have any greens or a salad? If so I'll take that too."
Grimkell slightly frowns (mostly by surprise) upon hearing himself called brother by the priest of Nethus. Still, he answers grudgingly:
"This ulfen man arrived moments ago riding a horse and covered in injuries. Call me Grimkell. Brother is for those whom I fight side-by-side with."
Grimkell stops and takes a moment to look at Gii from head to toes. Once done he half smiles to the man.
"Maybe you'll earn the title one day." he says, apparently daring the priest to rise up to be a warrior.
Turning toward Kale, he finally orders:
"Whatever this strange man wants is on me" he says pointing toward Jamarcus. "and yes, I'll have the ale."
Then, instead of taking a seat with Jamarcus and Mirri, he walks straight toward where the other ulfen is sitting. On his way he turns toward the elf and apparently Garundi man:
"I'll be with the two of you as soon as I hear this man's tale."
Now next to Lars, Grimkell stops and listens carefully to the wounded man's words.
Jamarcus swaggers his way to the bar.
Gimme somethin' strong, and some o' that stew you got goin' there
Glass in hand, he moves to the pillar behind the injured man with grace that belies his stature.
He leans back, takes a sip and waits.
Gii frowns at Grimkell's jab, but doesn't retort. He approaches the injured man who is hastily drinking the hot broth, and sits down, clearly happy to take some of the weight off his lame leg. He waves off Kale's question about food, focused entirely on the Ulfen man. "When you finish, I would like to hear of what exactly happened. It seems these folk are willing to help," the Nethian says as he motions to the others, "and I would like to offer my services, as well. Though I have not been here long, Heldren is as much my home right now as anyone else here, and I will not stand idly by."
"Sorry, no greens today," Kale replies to Mirri, "but the stew, we've got." She pokes her head into the kitchen for a second then comes back with the drinks.
The Ulfen man looks only a little better. He continues to shiver despite the heat from the fire. But his voice sounds stronger as he speaks, "About 6 miles south of here, they attacked us. We thought they were just bandits at first. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey of the north." His features become even more grim than before, "They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of the winter-touched, but I never expected to meet them this far south." He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat that ends in a racking cough. When the cough subsides, he continues, "My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away." He stops hanging his head as he stares into the fire.
Lars does not fail to notice the crowd that has sprung up around the Ulfen that had his attention A varied group, some are probably looking for what I am looking for, the others...either good folk or curious folk.
"When you finish, I would like to hear of what exactly happened. It seems these folk are willing to help," the Nethian says as he motions to the others, "and I would like to offer my services, as well. Though I have not been here long, Heldren is as much my home right now as anyone else here, and I will not stand idly by."
"Now, now no need to get the man's hopes up, some could be here just to listen" Lars turned towards the black haired man, a smirk playing on his face.
The Ulfen man looks only a little better. He continues to shiver despite the heat from the fire. But his voice sounds stronger as he speaks, "About 6 miles south of here, they attacked us. We thought they were just bandits at first. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey of the north." His features become even more grim than before, "They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of the winter-touched, but I never expected to meet them this far south." He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat that ends in a racking cough. When the cough subsides, he continues, "My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away." He stops hanging his head as he stares into the fire.
A lady eh? Most places I've been ladies had the best loot to be had The blue eyed Varisian returned his facade to its neutral state; betraying no emotion outside of the attention his eyes paid to the man in front of him "Fey and bandits? Working together? I never thought I'd wake up today and hear something like that" Lars uncrossed his arms and placed the thumb of his left hand under his chin, and stroked his goatee slightly "Six miles to the south of here? Well I guess it'd be worth looking at where you fought at least" He continued "Any thing else you can tell me? How well armed they were? Anything weird...besides the fey?" He asked, his finger still running through his facial hair.
The clack of an empty glass on a wooden table snaps through the hushed discussion in the tavern.
Fay? Dat some evil broad? Damn dis place unreal. Dis' Argentea chick sounds like she got mad bread tho.
The tall, dusky man grins and steps forward.
Nobody here askin' the important questions. Dis' Argentea Lady, she got gold?
A raised eyebrow breaks the facade of neutrality Lars has been holding, his face shifts to face Jamarcus Direct, but his heart is in the right place The locksmith takes a swig of his glass of water his eyes remaining on the man clad in purple "Most ladies tend to have gold, jewels and plenty of other expensive trinkets they don't really need" He finally answered, the tone of his voice nonchalant and calm.
Grimkell looked sideways toward Mirri when winter feys were mentionned. Unlikely she is with them... still, I'll keep an eye on her. he thought before hearing about the ulfen's shameful escape, and letting out a disappointed sight as well as shaking his head.
Yet, his disappointement is replaced by optimism as Gii, Lars, and to a lesser extent Jamarcus seem interested to investigate the site of the attack.
Good, good, some of the people of this town have some courage. he thinks, drinking some of the ale.
Gently tapping on Lars' chair out of excitement, Grimkell joins the conversation:
"Ladies have more than money. They have the ability to make you famous, bring you honor. If you do not run away from dangers." he adds looking at the ulfen man. "Fame and honor. These will make you immortal in tales. Money will simply corrupt you and make you complacent." He pauses for a moment."I will join you the two of you and investigate this." he continues, sounding determined. "And you, maybe?" he finishes, looking at Jamarcus.
At the mention of winter fey Mirri puts her full attention on what is said. Winter fey? Maybe I've finally found the reason the winter drew me here. She nods acceptance, "I'll go as well. You might need someone accustomed to the cold to help deal with such creatures. My people have fought them before and I would be glad to kill a few more."
Jamarcus lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle after Grimkell's noble announcement and leans back on the pillar with his arms crossed.
Got nothin' better to do
A brilliant, white grin flashes across his face and he winks at Lars.
Who knows, maybe she be reeeeeeeeeeaal thankful when we find her
"You'll watch yourself, young man," Theora clucks, poking Jamarcus' shoulder with her staff. "If you're not doing this because it's the right thing, you might not be doing it for the right reasons. The reward, if any, is unimportant." She leans on the staff again, her lined face contemplative, her strong jaw set firm.
"If you are all going gallivanting off into the woods, I will join you. If there is any chance of danger reaching my home, I must attempt to stop it, for my own sake, and my son's." Glancing across at Grimkell with a wink, she adds, "And perhaps I'll be able to hear for myself your tales, which seem to have so enraptured my boy."
Gently tapping on Lars' chair out of excitement, Grimkell joins the conversation:
"Ladies have more than money. They have the ability to make you famous, bring you honor. If you do not run away from dangers." he adds looking at the ulfen man. "Fame and honor. These will make you immortal in tales. Money will simply corrupt you and make you complacent." He pauses for a moment."I will join you the two of you and investigate this." he continues, sounding determined. "And you, maybe?" he finishes, looking at Jamarcus.** spoiler omitted **
At least someone's excited Lars moved half of his body to the right while remaining on the chair, half facing Grimkell "I don't know about the others, but gold did make me complacent for a time" He admitted with a wry smile on his facade.
"But life slapped me awake" The former pirate takes another drink from the glass brought to him "Still I wouldn't mind testing my will against more gold in the future" Lars places the glass down on the table "Fame? That is something to consider...honor? I'll be happy to share the honor I receive among all of you" He continues, finishing with a short and low toned laugh, that while not mirthful was not exactly mocking either.
Gii looks between the others as they talk, a neutral look on his face. "Should we head out to where they were attacked, then? Our friend here appears to be taken care of, but if anything has happened to Lady Argentea, time may be of the essence."
Grimkell listens to Theora and Lars before nodding his head in agreement with Gii. He drinks the remaining of his ale in one long gulp, and then responds to the Nethysian priest.
"Right. But first, we must know more about these creatures of the north. If they are as strong as you say, we need to know whether they possess weaknesses. Do you know any?" he asks, leaving Lars side to kneel next to the injured ulfen.
I do recall a few tales about feys from the north. They would ...
"Any thing else you can tell me? How well armed they were? Anything weird...besides the fey?"
The Ulfen man thinks for a moment, “They were all fairly well armed, the fey maybe better than the bandits. But weird? Fey are weird enough as it is boy.” His hair sways as he shakes his head, “Let alone them taking the Lady. But I can think of nothing more than those.”
Nobody here askin' the important questions. Dis' Argentea Lady, she got gold?
He barks a harsh laugh. “A mercenary, then?” His scowl deepens, then in a bitter voice he says, “If you’re looking for gold, I’m sure you’ll find plenty. But I can’t speak for what she’ll give to be rescued.”
"If they are as strong as you say, we need to know whether they possess weaknesses. Do you know any?"
Grimkell adds a few things he knows before the man can speak, “I do know the attacks from most can numb you to the bone, and they’re not much harmed by cold. But fire. Fire can hurt them deeply.”
"Aye, I felt that searing cold. And yes, flame. Cold iron as well. Both burn them, and both are weapons they fear." He looks up at Grimkell. “You’re from the north.” This seems more statement than question. “You’ll take this quest and save her then?” He must have seen something in the Grimkell’s eyes, for he pulls out his sword, a longsword, and holds it out, “I followed into the woods as far as I could, but could not finish on my own. Take this, and maybe my ancestor’s will forgive my cowardice. It is made of cold iron, so it may be of some use to you.”
"That settles it" Lars abandons his chair with a sigh and begins walking to his room "For our sake I hope the lady is grateful" and as rich as they come
In a few minutes Lars walked back into the room, armored, armed, a pack on his back and a heavy coat resting on his shoulde "Anyone else want to join me and the pretty boy here?" He motions towards Grimkell with his left hand, a half smile on his scarred face.
Gii stands, nodding. "I will need to retrieve my traveling gear, but you can count on my aid." Outside the door of the tavern, Matias barks once, seeming to agree with the Nethian.
Jamarcus takes the nearly empty keg out of his rucksack and empties it in one long draw. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and walks over to the bar.
Now be a sweetheart and fill er' up he says with a wink.
With his liquor supplies replenished, the man walks back to the group by the fire.
Befo' we go, can ANYONE tell me why we need fire n' dis "cold iron" shit to deal wit' dis' "fey" crew?
Mirri gestures to her pack, "I'm willing to help as well and I travel lightly so I am ready to go now if needed."
Grimkell graciously accepts the sword handed to him. He stands up, draws his own in one swift motion and hands it to the ulfen.
"Here, take my sword, you never know what might happen. You may be given the chance to redeem yourself while I hold on to your sword, and without it, I doubt you could accomplish any deeds worth mentionning. Now, you say you have followed in the woods. This lessens your disgrace and I, Grimkell son of Ogmundr, swear I will end it by saving your mark and soaking your sword in the blood of your enemies."
Grimkell sheat's the newly acquired sword while nodding at the ulfen. Seeing as some of the others are gone to get their equipment the skald joins Jamarcus at the bar where he pays for the drinks they all took and then walks back toward the fire with him.
"Legends say that they are creatures of the wild whose skin cannot be penetrated by normal steel. Weapons need to go through a special process to hurt them... You seen well travelled, how can you have never head of them? Whatever, I guess you'll learn soon by yourself!" Grimkell gives a friendly yet rough tap on Jamarcus' shoulder when he is done speaking.
Looking at the assembled people, Grimkell smiles interiorly.
All willing to help, these people are truly remarkable. Who would have thought that of a fragile elven lady and the middle aged midwife. he thinks, before speaking to them.
"There is something afoot here, I can sense it. It is no coincidence that we were all in town when the rider appeared and all felt curious about his story. Now, let us find out what happened and save Lady Argentea. Once it is done, it will be time for tales, to which our own will be added." he gives a look to Theora while he says so. "And hopefully, you two will earn greater prizes than women and gold, and get greater aspirations." he says toward Jamarcus and Lars.
"I knew a man called Clancy, he would have loved having you around" Said the former raider of the sea to Grimkell, his wry smile returning and his eyes gleaming with a mix of humor and reminiscence "And I would have introduced you, but we aren't exactly friendly anymore" A sigh escapes Lars' mouth as he walks towards Grimkell, his long strides making the trip quite short.
"And if by greater prizes you mean staying alive and well to enjoy the women and gold then thank you" Lars' mocking grin morphs into a more genuine one "I'd wish you the same but it doesn't seem you have trouble turning the ladies heads towards you" The now armed Varisian's neck leans slightly to the right, as his smile grew even wider, clearly amused by the speech prone man standing before him.
"Before you give me another speech, trust me staying alive in my case is one of the greater aspirations one could hope for" Lars places his hand on Grimkell shoulder in a seemingly friendly gesture, then he promptly removes it and turns his body towards the door "We'd best hurry, if I know one thing about outlaws its you better start early if you want to catch them"
Theora mulls over all the information supplied, before nodding. "Well, some of us may be more mercenary than others, but as long as we're all determined, I suppose that's what matters. And Grimkell, I'm not interested in being a hero - I'm getting too old to be the centre of a tale," she chuckles, smiling at the young man. "However, when we return, perhaps your could give my son a private retelling? He hasn't stopped talking about you since you came back!"
Straightening her shoulders with a small grunt, she adds, "I'll fetch my bow and meet you back here soon. I wonder if there's time for a cup of tea..." With that, she leaves the Stoat, no longer shuffling, but striding at her full height, filled with purpose.
The Ulfen man looks down, holding the sword. "Thank you. Would that I could go with you, but . . ." he slumps in his chair, seemingly spent. His voice has returned to a husky sound, little more than a whisper.
Kale approaches the group, "I've sent someone for Elder Safander and Master Willowbark. They'll take care of him from here." She takes Jamarcus' keg and fills it. When she brings it back she holds out her hand, pushing his money away. We'll settle up if you get back."
The group begins to follow the road out of town. It seems the stories may have already started to spread as people gather to watch them leave. A voice calls out above the crowd, Wait! Wait. Ionnia Teppen rushes down the street to where you stand. She stops in front of you breathing heavily. Please. We've heard what happened, and Imust talk to you before you leave. As you must have heard, our meeting concerned the strange weather and creatures in the woods. We had just determined to send a group to investigate, and were trying to determine who to send when we heard about the rider, and your preparations. We thought it a touch fortuitous, and thought we might ask that while you are out, you investigate the cause of this winter and stop it if you can, preferably before it swallows us, for the boundaries are extending. She looks at each person in turn. Then as if you'd already agreed she goes on, Thank you and good luck.