Each of you has received a letter summoning you to the frost giant city of Holvirgang. Someone calling himself Svartokshe has offered each of you – well-known mercenaries all – a lucrative job, but he was scant with the details. He wrote that more would be revealed when you meet with him in the Keg and Axe inn.
Two towering frost giants guard the outer gate, their fierce eyes looking down their noses as smaller races walked past them entering and exiting the city. Shaking off the snow from your cloaks you make your way to the famous inn. Despite its immensity, it is said to be able to house members of almost any race and size.
Entering, a frost giantess whistles to grab your attention. “Yo, new flesh! What can I get for you?”
Tetro was getting bored. Sure, organising scores into a cohesive force had its perks, but he wanted to get back into the field and his people would not survive the kind of head on challenge he was looking for.
And then the letter arrived.
Frost giants? And in the north? Mother's country? Hmmm.
He thought about it for a few hours, while grooming Aghi. And decided.
I'm doing it.
"Folks, I'm heading north! If I'm not back in a year, post some bills!" to some chuckles and cheers.
He gathered his supplies, and Aghi and he rode off into the clear skies.
**************
Checking out the stables first, Tetro stabled Aghi, whispering softly:
"You know the drill. Anyone causes you trouble, start breaking heads and I'll come running. Anyone causes me trouble, flip it around."
Tetro strides into the Keg and Axe proper, a tall, broad man with long flame-red hair and well-groomed beard. His dark brown eyes are those of a man who has seen much hardship but been tempered by it, not bent or broken. His hands are calloused, having seen much labour in his day. He exudes the quiet self-assurance of a man confident in his abilities and his preparations.
In reply to the frost giantess in Taldane, with a chuckle:
"Beer, and in a man size, giantess!"
Chill's knife slammed into the Ulfen Barbarian's chest, causing the big brute to stagger, coughing blood. Chill pulled out his blade, with a twist, and turned away. the fool was already dead, he just had to go though the motions. He looks at the King upon his throne.
Now, your Majesty, I suggest you pay your debt. At the moment I am somewhat miffed. Soon I will get angry.
The King looked at the body, then at his adviser. He settled back on his throne, made from the skull of a linnorn dragon.
Hmph. You made your point, I guess. He looked at the adviser. Pay him his gold.
The King glared at the Brawler, standing seemingly without care. Take your money and go, southerner, before I change my mind.
Chill stood calmly as the adviser handed him a sack. With a quick jingle, he nodded. Then he left the hall, the Kings champion still dying on the floor.
Outside the chill of winter cut into him despite magic and furs. Why do these northerners always try to not pay. Ah well, the pay was good, once the "legalities' were played out. Time to goes some where warm. Maybe Cheliax. It was nice there this year, and there was never a shortage of customers. And they also tended to pay on time.
He moved into an alley, heading towards his accommodation.
Suddenly he felt an extra chill. Eyes were on him. His hands rested on his daggers and he turned.
Friend I don't know who you are, but I may get annoyed if you don't come out.
A figure appeared in front of him. It was a blue skinned man, wearing hide and holding an axe.
Hold human. I would have words with you. I come offering a task. For which you will be well compensated.
Chill looked him up and down.
You're very short for a frost giant.
The giant shrugged.
A needed disguise
Chill, thought about it. Warm weather was so tempting, but more money was always handy.
OK, tell me about it.
I have a missive for you. The miniturised giant handed over a scroll. Head to the place indicated. And with that he vanished.
Chill went back to the inn he was staying at. On reading the scroll, he sat a thought a while, drinking some warmed mead. Most interesting. Cheliax could wait.
On arrival, Chill entered the inn. Wearing furs, he moved with a dangerous grace. An average sized man, he pulled down his hood to reveal jet black hair and piecing eyes. A scar decorates his left check, and he seems armed only with a pair of daggers, and two crossed bandoliers filled with shuriken.
Mead, warm. he says in reply to the bar giantess. He then finds a seat.
As for the name, you heard that "Svartokshe" is a Giant term for hidden winter dangers, and someone tells you they heard a story about the "ghost in the snow". Claimed that a woodsman's wife - who turned out to be a huldra - was butchered, along with their two children, in their home by this hateful spirit.
His kill count of fey creatures is in the hundreds, many claiming he's killed nymph queens, white witch nobles, and even nature-loving gnomes due to the race's connection to the First World. As cold as the realm itself, his one-man war is backed by his demonic patron.
Chill sipped his mead as he considered his potential client.
Tetro tries a mouthful of the local beer while he casts eyes around the room from his seat at the bar. Specifically, he's looking for people who stand out as either extremely stealthy or have the mercenary look about them. Tetro is no stranger to the military life after all.
Tetro spots a figure who looks likely. In one hand, his beer. In the other, a clearly finely made spear with a tattered piece of cloth tied to it.
He walks over to the table and pulls out a chair as he asks the man sipping mead:
"Hail stranger! I'm Tetro Aeminus, up north for a job. Did you receive a letter from Svartokshe also?"
Chill looks the man up and down. He decided to be nice.
in general, It's not a good idea to announce what job you are on, friend. It quite often leads to trouble. Especially if your patron is Svartokshe.
Chill says in a quiet voice. Then he relents, and gives a quick smile.
But it may be as you say. I take it you got a letter of some sort?
Chill gestures at the chair.
Sit. Put up your spear. Have some mead he indicates the jug Do you know what we are to do? But do speak quietly.
Tetro quietens down as he sits.
"Just checking. And aye, I got a letter with talk of a job. I know our patron's name translates as "hdiden winter danger" and there is a story about a "ghost in the snow" who murdered a huldra and her children. You know any more?"
He grabs an empty mug and pours out some mead, sipping it.
Celestia, in all her work with the last few centuries, has been itching for something new to happen. With nearly 50 years between now and her last job... Life had become the dull monotonous life of the long lived elf. So when the invitation came, she more than gladly took it.
The elf, dressed in robes that hugged her form, came into the tavern. Having a look around she spots the few folks here who don't tower over Everyone else.
Smiling, she walks over to them, and leans against the counter. "Well, Hello." she says, her perfect skin not betraying the knowledge and years belonging to the sylvan woman. "you must be the others that where sent for... I suppose it's not an issue if I formally introduce myself, is it?"
Freydis's humming voice echoed across the high stone walls of the church, and a rhythm emerged, built by the tapping of her heavy metal boot. Intermittently the sound of tearing paper punctuated the eerie tune as Freydis ripped page after page from holy tome of Shelyn, piling them onto a growing pyre that was once a podium. The pale woman's face wrinkled into a soft smile as she watched the flame take the blasphemous parchment, bits rising into the air, almost dancing in the light cast through stained glass windows. The whimsical sight inspired her to recite in slow song form, a verse she learned in childhood from the forbidden canticle of Lady Graves.
"Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken
Foul and corrupt are those who bear false witness,
And work to deceive others, know this;"
The last page smoldering, Freydis tossed the binding of the book and surveyed her handiwork, the pews filled with fresh corpses, the ages of which ranged from young adult to seniors. The lumbering armored woman took a soft stride along the aisle patiently blessing the nearest people with holy water from her Combat Aspergillium. Flecks of anointed liquid dripped across the lifeless faces of the dead, but otherwise seemingly uninjured crowd.
"There is but one Truth.
Whatever your maker,
The Ebon City calls to all, "
The cleansing had ended in a second. Upon first entering the church, she’d been received warmly, but only responded with stoicism until hearing the preachings of the so-called priest. His words were sin. His teachings poison. With a gesture of her gauntleted hand and holy symbol of Pharasma, Fredyis released a flash of concordant energy before the patrons knew what had happened. The souls of the congregation were torn from their form retrieved by her spectral hounds, bound to her call, and promptly delivered to her godly mistress in the underworld. There was no time for screams, and in a moment the once lively church had fallen silent. She was glad they had not suffered.
"o’ Lady mine, my enemies are abundant,
Many are those who rise up against me,
But my faith sustains me, I shall not fear the legion"
Continuing her lilting hymn, Freydis exited the temple into the snowy hamlet of Valeroot, descending the stairs with piercing amber eyes fixed on the only signs of life left in the winter town, ample fields of wheat rolled out across a nearby plain. Rows upon rows of golden full stalks pierced through several feet of snow in a bizarre juxtaposition of the season. Removing her glove, her exposed fingers traced lightly across the yellow plants. She could feel the tug trace of necromantic energy that sustained the plants, stolen from animals and occasional human sacrifice.
“Suffer not the work of a heretic.”
Gray colored flames suddenly poured from the anointed weapon in her other hand and she dipped it into the straw lengths. Freydis watched quietly as the blaze took hold, and left only after the ill-gotten plants had fallen to cinders.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------
Freydis turned the small yellow envelope smeared in blood in her hand over a few times as she cautiously entered the giant town. So many apostates… Fighting the urge to proselytize to nearby frost giants, the spikey armored warrior priest quickly located the Keg and Axe and entered. Taking in the room and nodding away any offer of beverage from the large barkeep, Freydis caught a few words of conversation between a comely elf, and other sufficiently potent looking (what she assumed to be from the contents of the letter) mercenaries.
Removing her frightening full helm gilded with Pharasma symbols, Freydis’s white locks tumbled out just past her black armored shoulders and she flashed a look of slight disdain at the smell of ale and smoke that filled her nostrils. In her mid-fifties, her symmetrical heart-shaped face showed signs of her advancing years, wrinkles, scars, and laugh lines covering it but an alluring air of confidence and calm seemed to accompany them. Walking towards the cluster of would-be heroes and conquerors, she placed the open letter covered in dried blood on the table and spoke in a cool composed voice; “I seek Svartokshe, but I will hear your title, my dear child. I would hear all of yours. I-” Freydis pauses to nod respectfully at the group, left hand resting poised on her aspergillium. “am St. Freydis de Saga.”
Anyone looking at the open letter might notice her name is not on it, but instead it appears addressed to one, Nathaniel Courtmire.
The giantess is quite flattered by Tetro's charm, and finds herself blushing like a lovestruck lass. "Your kind of man or mine?" she quips before setting out to retrieve your order.
She delivers four tankards of cool beer and warm mead to your table, a pleasant smile on her face. Her expression tightens at Freydis' mention of Svartokshe, however, but she hands out the drinks before walking towards a far corner table and whispers to the hooded patron there. A purse is exchanged and the man gets up and, readjusting his polar bear fur cloak and picking up a large satchel at his feet, makes his way to the bar - getting a drink from the bartendess, and then makes his way to all of you.
"I see my little birds made it through." He murmurs as he pulls up a fifth stool, not waiting to ask for permission. Keeping his hood drawn, you can still see thick black hair falling over a weathered pale face, hiding his eyes mostly from view. Thin lips smirked across his clean-shaven features.
"You are correct if you think me the one who contacted you. I have called myself 'Black-Ice' for a long time and it has served me well enough as a moniker."
"Now, I know of all of you," his icy eyes lock with St. Freydis's, "and I can guess that you answered my invitation for the promise of reward. I serve as a proxy to acquire an powerful artifact from a dangerous hiding place. Accomplish this, and the rewards shall be many. What say you?"
Chill nodded at the Elf, no it is no imposition. I am known as Chill Myst, and I am a solver of problems. And you are?
---------------------------------------------
He also notices the discrepancy between the name on letter freydis presented, and the name she offered. Then decided it wasn't his problem, right now. Welcome. I am Chill Myst. Have a seat.
---------------------------------------------
To 'Black Ice'he says Many rewards sounds nice, but can you be more specific? My services are not cheap
Tetro raises his mug and greets the elf with a smile.
"Tetro Aeminus, former Taldan Phalanx, now spear and banner for hire. I rouse soldiers to fight far harder even as I battle. And you?"
*************
He coolly glances down at the letter and back up at Freydis, also not saying anything openly. He still smiles, if a little less widely.
"I believe you just did! Tetro Aeminus, all the same!"
*************
Looking at 'Black-Ice', he replies, with a bare smile:
"The classic two questions. What is the job, and what is the pay?"
I am Celestia, as the language of angels. And I am glad to finally get out of my cloistered home... she says to the men.
***
Watching the other woman she remains silent, letting the others talk and explain themselves. She makes note of the blood on the paper but otherwise nods and introduces herself plainly, using just her first name like before
***
My reward is the offer itself... And a chance to meet some lovely men" she laughs, glancing at her new companions. She keeps herself pretty casual however, as if she was just meeting some friends and not some strange hooded man in a Giant bar.
Nodding, she shakes the hand of each willing to take it, save their potential benefactor, a small smirk breaks across Freydis's fine-featured face as her eyes meet Svartokshe's.
She decided to keep silent to gather as much information as she could, as all but one burning question on her mind had been asked by the small band. Courtmire's tainted magics had aided Valeroot. She knew that the task ahead would be dire indeed if Courtmire's services had been called to aid these adventuring types.
Freydis finally took a seat, placing the helmet on the table gently near Chill, giving him a side glance. She wasn't sure to make of him yet but knew he was dangerous. He seemed uninterested in mincing words and an animalistic cunning waited behind those eyes. The other two might be a little simpler to figure out.
Rolling her eyes slightly at the lackadaisical nature of the elf lass, she considered her the most out of place and much too young to be romping through these northern lands. But she had seemingly received a letter, so perhaps she was more formidable than her appearance leads to believe.
Watching Tetro from the corner of her eye she couldn't deny that he was a handsome devil and reminded her of days at Chelaxian Court. Men like him were a dime a dozen there. Silver-tongued and smartly dressed, but Tetro bore the hands of a working man so he too may be full of surprises.
To be perfectly honest with herself, she had originally expected knaves and brigands to answer the letter's call but this lot seemed slightly more scrupulous. Her caution diminished by a hair after surveying them in attendance and crossed her armored arms over her chest.
Svartokshe nods, taking a sip from his mug before speaking. “My employer has charged me – and any I wish to take with me – with the recovery of the Torc of Kostchtchie from the Veil of Frozen Tears. He is willing to pay handsomely for the item, in coin or artifacts from his armories. I am, however, not the only servant sent to recover the item. Agents of both my employer and the Queen Elvanna are on the way to the Veil as we speak.”
“I have reached out to you four based on your skills in the field. Tetro for your command of the battlefield, Chill for your skill in removing opponents regardless their strength, Celestia for your powers, and ...” He stares at Freydis intensely, his eyes darkening from pale blue to an evening sky devoid of stars. He takes the bloody letter and silently reads it, making a show of looking at the name. “Saint Freydis de Saga for her quality work ethic and insurance that adversaries stay down. My employer will offer you all gifts worthy and fitting of your skills and professions should we be the ones to deliver the Torc to him before the others.”
“However, if nothing else, we must keep the Queen from getting her hands on the artifact. Even if we must allow my rivals to succeed, we cannot allow Elvanna to acquire the Torc.” He leans back, taking another swig of his mead, then sighs. “Well, what say you now?”
Celestia chuckles, adjusting the grey fabric of the robes she wore. "My powers, Ha!" She leans seductively on the table, "Sure, let's say that's the only reason..." With a chukle she crosses her arms.
She knew she had the skills to unleash hell apon this tavern. In ainute she could level the building and set the giant city aflame.
But she would never resort to such barbarian tactics...no, she'd much rather make them bow and tend to her every need.
For now though it's seems she had to work with these new people... Obviously not lacking in skill if they where here. Best to make it seem you were powerless or Naive. An enemy that underestimates you is a dead one.
So far you've lain down the rules pretty well... I suppose that means we can Take this task any way we please? I imagine no tactic is off handed when the baseline is "under no circumstances". she chuckles, thinking of ways to go about this.
This other party... They must be of considerable strength if we are needed... Perhaps it would be a good idea to let them retrieve the artifiact, then we come in and sweep it from them as they leave. That way they spend all their resorces and we can easily just take the prize for ourselves. she suggests.
unless this veil has some power we need to be aware of first. Celestia probes. After all, If the Queen wants it then it must have some strange magics about it.
Tetro quickly assesses the information Svartokshe has revealed about the job while he sups beer, and before he replies.
Chill speaks up.
you have told us the task. What will be the payment? And can you speak of this other team.
The Torc of Kostchtchie is an item created by Baba Yaga that contains a part of the demon lord's soul. In the process of making him immortal she warped his original form into that of a deformed giant, making him the monster he is today. It is said whoever possesses the Torc may command the demon lord to do their bidding.
The Veil of Frozen Tears was magically created by the witch Baba Yaga when she used it to kill those who rose up against her in the Witchwar. The broken remains of those rebels remain, bloodstains dot the frozen falls. Great burrowing worms were commanded by Baba Yaga to carve out tunnels and chambers to hide the Torc away, haunting the place with the spirits of those slain there and filling it with traps, fiends, and worse. There is said to be an entrace at the foot of the frozen falls, but none so far have entered the Veil and returned without express permission from Baba Yaga.
Svartokshe grunts at Celestia's musings and question. "Indeed, I am no stranger to violent means if it accomplishes a favorable end. We may use whatever methods are available to us."
Turning to Chill. “My employer will pay you want you desire, he did not give me numbers. He has access to vast wealth, I suppose you can name your price when we deliver the Torc to him. As for our rivals, my spies have learned that the white witch Ilivorr Karanasi, Elvanna's granddaughter, has been sent out to reclaim the Torc for Elvanna. I do not know who she is taking with her, however.”
He releases a heavy sigh before continuing. “We are closer to the Veil than our adversaries, but not for long. I can give you till tomorrow morning before we must set off to get there before anyone else. Meet me at the stables before sunrise tomorrow if you are interested. Here, use this as an advance.”
With that he stands, tossing a pouch onto the table before paying his tab and walking outside, the wind roaring as the doors close behind him.
Celestia leans on her staff, taking the bag and looking inside. She scoffs and sets it back down. A large sum indeed, but it isn't money I'm looking for. she looks to the others in the group, thinking for a moment. She eyes to two men up and down before sighing. Alright, I suppose I should get off, I have prayer to get done, and Calistra isn't a goddess known for forgiveness... with that she walks over to the bartender and asks about places to stay the night.
Chill looks at the money.
a decent downpayment.
He quickly divides the money into four equal parts, placing a quarter before each person, then claims his own. He looks at celestia wryly, and says if money is not what you're after, what is? And do you want your share, or not?
Tetro pipes up.
"The advance is good, but it would want to be! Elvanna has crushed most of her rivals within Irrisen, and the nation has strengthened under her rule. And her time is nearly up. So staring down being snatched by Baba Yaga, she chooses to throw the dice on this torc, sending her granddaughter into the veil, which *no one* has returned from without Baba Yaga's say-so."
He looks around at each person at the table briefly while continuing.
"I'm up for it. But we need to get a things sorted between us first, assuming you're up for it as well."
"First: that 'Black-Ice' is being very coy about our rewards, or our employer, or the dangers we face. Even when questioned. Let's face it: if this ends with us all dead and him handing over this torc, he'd be fine with that. Sound about right, or do you think I'm being harsh?"
"Second: we need to cover each other back's. No letting 'black-ice' or any friends of his pick us off one by one. If one of us is attacked, all are attacked. Does that sound fair?"
"Third: we need a symbol, to make our group of four official. Doesn't have to be complicated. But it means I can put that symbol on the banner here, and *that* means I can boost you all in battle that much easier."
Chill snorted.
Northerners are all the same in my experience. They always try to short change you. Black ice is no difference. I trust him not, but if we have this torc, we can make him pay. Or we could sell it else where.
He looks at Tetro. I'm professional about this. You do the job. You get paid. Then chill shrugged. A symbol? We are not going into a war, you know. But if you must, how about a gold bar. That's something to pay for.
Celestia comes back and grabs her portion of the gems. I may not be in it fir the money, but several if these gems would make excellent components for spells of mine... she shuffles through the jewels. If you don't mind, I'll take any onix gems among the payment. A spell I possess require them as a component, and unfortunately most merchants don't just sell large onix gems
At the mention of a symbol she smiles. As a truely devout, I can only suggest Calistra have some part in the symbol, wether her symbol be incorporated, or a form of it...
The barmaid you handed you your drinks informs Celestia there are at least two double rooms available for "you little ones". She asks for the payment in advance before handing you keys.
"Forgive my asking, but what did the black-ice ranger want with you?" Her whisper belied her kind's size. "That is a very dangerous man. He is pawn to powers you might not understand wholly, and he is not known for working with others."
She looks at Tetro with an expression Celestia is very familiar with, before saying: "I would not want anyone to lose themselves to the chilling embrace of this bewitched land, alone, with no one to mourn you."
"No worries on the onyx on my part, so long as our shares lose no value. And let's say a quartered flag. A spear, a gold bar, the three daggers, and I'm guessing a spiralling comet. Any objections?"
******************
Tetro turns to look up at the giantess and with a smile, responds.
"A warm room sounds great to me! The ranger being dangerous, I had guessed. But whom is he known to work for? You can tell me, I'd hate to end up frozen.", he finishes with a cheery wink.
Freydis considers what she can recall from tomes and myths regarding the Torque and this so-called Queen.
What she remembers unsettles her. Ending Black Ice now might raise the ire of her compatriots. Sinful though they may be, she saw greatness in them. Through their lust and greed, the potential for glory remained. Their uses in tracking down the artifact would be immeasurable. And on top of all that she would be no closer to finding the name of their true employer. She had been lead here, that much she knew. Pharasma was calling.
Waiting for Balck Ice to step away, Freydis stood up and delivered flatly. "Whatever Black Ice is, he's not a liar. At least from what he's said so far. Though we should be wary of those who drape themselves in vagaries.
Freydis pulls her split of the money and tucks it away in a small leather satchel. She then proceeded to clomp away in measured steps before turning to Tetro.
"Blue and white colors. That or a Whippoorwill would suffice.
Till sunrise." With a curt nod, Freydis stalks back into the cold, helmet under arm.
Celestia smirks at the look and examines the Onixes, I'm sure this trip is gonna be more than a little exciting. She lays a platinum peice on the table. That should cover the room she says standing. Now, unless one of you plans on sharing the bed with me, I'll be headed to my room alone. she makes her way to the room, making sure to sway seductively as she went.
Her smile returns at Tetro's charm, and the giantess relaxes. "It is hardly a secret, at least amongst my kind. I don't know why he wouldn't tell you, perhaps he was afraid the truth would scare you off? That man, called Svartokshe by those who know and fear him, is a disciple of the less popular but more feared of the two patron deities of frost giants." Her voices lowers as she utters the name: "Kostchtchie."
She shivers, saying the name aloud. "He is said to have been given powerful weapons and control over winter's ice and winds. He commands respect from fellow servants of the Deathless Frost, and their hate for being a favored minion. He plays a dangerous game, but he has survived this long."
Looking at Tetro, she smirks a little, admiring his crimson hair. "Even so, he's not my kind of man. I prefer a little fire in mine."
Chill listens unobtrusively to the giantess.Kostchtchie. A name that meant little to Chill. No matter, if he scared frost giants, and black ice served him...yes. This black ice would try to betray them, that was as certain as winter. But this was also an opportunity. After all, a certain witch queen was in the market.
He pays for a room, and says to tetro we should check our rooms. You can talk to you friend after. he touches his hand to his head towards the giantess ma'am
Tetro nods back at Freydis before she leaves, as he leaves payment for his room on the table.
Kostchtchie, eh?
Still smiling at the giantess and hearing Chill's words, Tetro replies to her:
"I am not a man easily scared. But I appreciate the tip. Now, I am going to my room for a spell. But if you are a late sleeper, I can meet you afterwards.", he finishes with a grin.
This portfolio puts him at odds with the White Witches of Irrisen, in addition to Kostchtchie's hatred and fear of Baba Yaga, the witch responsible for his immortality and current twisted form. Though his worship is more common in Iobaria, the frost giants in Irrisen often pay him lipservice.
"Ask for Rovigga," The giantess winked as she leaned farther than necessary to collect your mugs. "I do hope you are as tough as you look, my lord. I'd hate to accidentally crush you." She made a point of swaying her hips as she made her way to the kitchens.
He raises his mug.
"Tougher!" he says cheerily as she sways away.
He turns to Chill with a much more serious expression.
"There'll be enough cold nights ahead of us. Let's make sure our beds aren't the last ones we sleep in eh?"
yes, indeed.
Once in private, chill relates what he knows of their patron.
In private, Celestia preforms her obedience... Praying tithe god Calistra, before asking for her daily spells and preparing her Spellbook.
She finishes up her work late before resting and waking the next morning...
Tetro listens carefully to Chill. And replies quietly.
"We keep very quiet about this. Even being seen with Black-Ice could be a problem if he is recognised. It's another reason for the banner: us as a group, separate and distinct from Black-Ice. It might make a difference to a pedantic Irrisen willing to hear us out. We have the back up option of going to the Queen with the torc if Black-Ice gets greedy before we're paid. And we'd best be ready to leg it even if everything works out and we do get paid. Let's see if we can't get the others up to speed tonight."
Chill nodded. Agreed.
"Good. I'll slip out and speak with Freydis, you with Celestia, meet back here in a few minutes to confirm that everyone is on the same parchment, then to bed."
i get to tell the man crazy, vengence lady. Goody. chill says, somewhat snidely. (It should be noted, wis is not chill's strong point)
He sighs. Ok
He heads to Celestia's room and knocks.
Tetro lets Chill's comment roll off his back as he walks to Freydis' room door and knocks.
Celestia opens the door, unlike before she now wears a vibrant yellow sash that leaves little to the imagination... A brand in the shape of Calistra's holy symbol sits on her chest just below the neckline. The elf smiles politely as soon as she sees who it is. "Oh, well hello! Come to help keep my bed warm?" She says, leaning seductively against the doorframe.
In her head Calistra wonders how easily she could subdue the man if he decided to attack her, figuring it would be best to incapacitate him before attempting to harm him... the man seemed like he could take a hit, but even the strongest of body couldn't resist her allure.
"Come in, It's not exactly safe from view here" she opens the door the rest of the way to let him in.