Fragrent smoke wafted through the festhall of Svienn Blood Eagle. The building was awash with the smell of smoke, roasting meat, meed, and sweat. At the very end of the hall, seated on a raised platform, the king watched the goings on. At his right, sat his wife, their two sns, and then their four daughters. At his left sits you. Raising his glass andstanding, he comandsenough respct that the whole hall falls silent.
"My subjects, friends, and guests," he booms, "tonight is a night of celebration. As you king, I command that you spend this night feasting, drinking, frolicing, and enjoying youself." Then he returns to his seat as the crowd roars it's approval. Then he turns to you.
"I recommend that you enjoy yourselves as well brave one," he says. "Tomorrow I must sadly lay a very difficult task at your feet."
Vissakiel scans the room, taking in the revelry with brilliant blue eyes sparkling with inner mirth. He wears a strange, half-smile that accentuates his sharp elven features. The warmth in the festhall (and the ale in his belly) brings a flush of pink to his normally pale skin, while his nostrils flare wider to take in the scents of smoke, food, drink, and the assembled crowd.
At the king's words, the elf nods his head and raises his mug in salute. When the king looks away, he mutters softly to himself, "Finally. Events must be in motion, at last."
The strange woman Diviha sit alone sipping at her mead, her face flushed, she eyes the other guest with a mixture of fear and awe. At the Kings words she gulps, almost choking on her drink. "Oh dear".
The pretty dark haired elf woman sits staring wistfully out the window. She absently leans her hand down to stroke the badger at her side, picking at her food. As the King speaks she turns her head towards him. Her eyes widen and seem to sparkle mischeivously...you can barely hear her whisper..."At last!"
The snow elf watches the women at the table for the span of several breaths, observing their reactions to the king's announcement. He can't help reflecting on the odd turn of events that brought him down the Rimeflow River to Svienn Blood Eagle's festhall. He had been fortunate to escape the Blackravens near Trollheim when they had mistaken him for one of the Witch Queen's servants--not the first time his strange affinity for the fey had worked against him.
Still, seated among such interesting company, he feels that his fortunes might actually be looking up for the moment. Of course, that might all change at a moment's notice. Even the unyielding glacier comes crashing down with surprising speed when the right forces are applied.
Perhaps the Blood Eagle's proposition will provide more clues--to both his future and his past.
Though he shares Fiana's enthusiasm for the upcoming mission, he is intrigued by Diviha, whose appearance is unlike that of any woman he has seen before.
"Tell me, Diviha, whence came the winds that have brought you to the gates of Kalsgard?"
The king waves his hand and a door at the side of the hall opens to admit a troop of Quadiran dancers.
Startled by the elfs words, the young woman almost jumps from her chair just as the dancers snter the hall. Her nervous smile reveals a hint of sharp fangs, and her eyes reflect no light as she turns his way.
"Oh... I'm sorry, were you talking to me sir?"
She gives him an almost timid once over.
"Let's just say I am from away... my mothers husband was from this land, He is no longer with us and I wished to see his homeland myself."
She blurts out with an almost child like exhuberance.
The elf's eyes sparkle as he shares a measure of the woman's exhuberance. "I, too, feel a strong desire to know more of my parents' homeland." As he speaks, an oddly wistful expression begins to creep into his features. He shakes his head slightly, though, and glances across the room at the dancers. When he returns his gaze to Diviha, the expression is gone.
"I am Vissakiel. Scion of the Snowcasters." He offers the woman his pale-skinned hand while he unabashedly, yet charmingly, assesses her with his eyes as only an elf can do.
The young woman fidgets under the elfs gaze before summoning the courage to speak again, as she accepts his hand.
"An... interesting name, but a good one. Have you ever seen such lovely dancing before? I love to dance...."
as she says this her hands quickly smooth out the folds of her skirt, ensuring her legs remain hidden from veiw. She just as quickly looks back up at her new friend.
"And what... do you.. well, do?" She ask eagerly.
"Hmmm...I do many things well." Vissakiel smiles conspiratorially, and lets the comment hang between them for half a breath before continuing. "But at the moment I am a wanderer. It is my time to seek out knowledge of warmer lands before returning to my brother and sister Snowcasters. As for dancing, I do a bit of that, too, though I am not well-versed in this style."
The elf watches the Qadiran dancers a while, then turns his attention back to Diviha. "And what is it that you do...well or otherwise?" When he speaks, his tone is different. The lasciviousness it had a moment before is gone, replaced with an air of playful banter.
She seems to think the elfs question over for a moment before giving him a sly smile of her own.
"Well I dance.... I'm pretty good with my bow, but mostly.."
Her melodious voice dropping to a whisper,
"mostly I'm good at...finding... things, and my mother says I'm real good at getting into things I have no business getting into."
Diviha giggles slightly at the last, then quickly looks towards the king to make sure she wasn't heard by royal ears.
Vissakiel joins his laughter with Diviha's. "Well, then I suppose we're guaranteed to find something interesting on this mission, whatever it may be. I must say I'm intrigued at the notion the king would choose such a diverse group of people. But I suppose that is a mystery to be solved tomorrow. Tonight the only mystery seems to be when my tankard will be refilled." Vissakiel turns his mug upside down for emphasis, confirming that it is, in fact, empty. He looks around the room for a servant carrying a pitcher.
Fiani smiles a small smile as she listens to the young girl and handsome elf flirt and talk. The elf was charming, as all elves are, and the young girl wasn't at all what she expected.
Fiani eyes the dancers with keen interest, wishing she had such talents. As a pretty serving maid sweeps by she waves her hand towards her, "Excuse me, but it would seem that that handsome elfs mug has ceased it's function. Do you think you could fix it for him?" As the serving girl refills his mug she winks at the pair.
Vissakiel smiles gratefully as his mug is refilled with the amber liquid. The snow elves prefer heartier fare than their southern cousins, allowing them to better appreciate the heavy meade and ales of the Ulfen people.
He raises his mug to Fiani, thanking her with a broad grin, for intervening and averting the minor crisis of an empty drinking cup.
"It seems that we are already becoming a team, does it not? It is good to know that one has allies willing to take action and provide assistance in times of trouble."
Then, he looks on the faces of each of his companions at the table and, in Elven, says, "It is also a great pleasure to see such flowers blooming through the frozen ground."
Fiani giggles into her wine glass. "In times of trouble huh? I think we will work very well together." Smiling she replies demurly in elvish, " and thank you for the compliment. It is nice to know that if one must be spending time with strangers, at least they are pretty strangers."
Fiani notices the smile on Khismia's face before she can hide it. Giving her a not so hidden once over she asks, "Well we know that our handsome friend is good with magic among many others, so he says, and our young one likes to dance and "find" things, what is it that you will be bringing to this group?"
Seeing the other two take even a cursory intrest in her Diviha seems to melt back into her chair. Her lightless eyes flit from one to the next trying to take in all they are saying.
Vissakiel takes a drink from his mug, watching and waiting for the woman's answer to Fiani's question.
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As Khismia truns to answer Fiani, her raven black hair shifts from where it was covering the right side of her face. A bright red scar is revealed, running down her cheek and in stark contrast to her pale white skin.
"I'm here because I hit things. Hard. It has served me well on my long journey here from the deserts of Qadira, so I think it will serve the King well for whatever it is he wants of us. And what do you bring to us O little flower?"
The corner of Vissakiel's mouth curls up in a smile, which he makes no effort to hide. "Straightforward," he thinks to himself. "This is going to be interesting."
"Oh!" Diviha exclaims upon seeing the scar. " how did you get that? In a fight I'll bet."She turns to look at the handsome elf beside her. " Do you think she got it in a fight with bandits?" Relizing she's rambling she suddenly gets quiet, and seems to once again sink back into her chair, her lovely face turning red with embarassment.
Smiling she says, "well, you certainly get right to the point. No small talk with you. I am a druidess, also skilled in "many" things. So I suppose that means I'll be the one healing you after whatever it is you are hitting hard hits back."
As she speaks she thinks to herself..oh this one is going to be fun!
At the young girls outburst Fiani laughs, her face sining with delight, "Oh aren't you just a doll!"
Vissakiel raises an eyebrow at Diviha's question. "It is certainly possible. It seems to me that lowly bandits would not have the skill necessarily to injure such a dedicated warrior. I am intrigued, though, and would be happy to hear your story when you are ready to tell it." The last comment is directed to Khismia, along with a respectful nod.
At the female elfs response to her, Diviha seems to brighten, a coy smile playing across her youthful face."Perhaps I am.... or not."
At the last part she giggles to herself and begins nibbling at her food, eager to see what the King has in mind for the four of them.
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In response to the handsome Elf, Khismia gets a far off look in her eye as she is obviously remembering something.
"I was expelled from my clan, the Ashborn, for daring to question the will of our Chief in who I was allowed to worship. Already an outcast for my pale skin, a trait not shared by my golden skinned brethren, I wanted to worship the Lady Sarenrae as opposed to the eddict that we were to venerate the Rough Beast and more specifically his Spawn Xotani. I was told never to return to my homeland for if I did then I would be hunted down and killed."
"I bought passage accross the inner sea to Absolom, and thence to Varisia. I landed in a foul City by the name of Korvosa. Finding it not to my liking, I then decided to travel north, eventually coming to a region known as the Cinderlands. I liked this region very much and while I was there I was witness to a most heinous act. I came upon a mighty barbarian, locked in combat with a red armoured figure wearing the head of an insect. It was obvious the the insect man was outmatched in a straight fight, but after a particularly viscious slice from the red garbed combatant the reactions of the larger man began to slow and his skin began to pale. The foul assasin was using poison to accomplish what he could not do through his strength of arms. I cold not abide this and so rushed to help the barbarian."
"Right before I reached them, the barbarian summoned the last ounces of his strength and struck the red assassin a mighty blow to his head staggering him. Unfortunately it was more than the barbarian could take and he collapsed on the ground. I reached the assailant and brought my kukri down on his neck. I was met with the satisfying crunch of bone and a spray of blood as the sinister man went down under the force of my blow, his life force spilling on the ash covered earth. As he went down however, his hand flicked out and a barbed dagger flew from his hand at my face. Luckily his aim was off and it merely scored its way across my cheek, leaving me with this." She lifts her hair and the car is finally fully visible to you. It is not big, tracing a straight line up her cheek to stop short of her eye, but its bright red line stands out vividly against her pale skin.
"I ran to help the dying barbarian, but it was too late for him. I burried him with honour and left the carcass of the foul assassin in the sun to rot and be consumed by scavengers. I took their weapons, learning how to master their use as I continued my travels north. Finally I reached this frozen land, a far cry from my heat washed desert homeland and here I sought work, having finally found my way as far from my home as I could. I am still trying to master the assassin's weapon, but I am confident in my abilities to use the barbarian's mighty hammer and his strange bladed shield."
She finishes her story with a long pull of her alcoholic beverage, raising the drink in salute to the fallen barbarian.
Vissakiel raises his mug to join Khismia's salute. "Your scar was earned honorably. And from your story, it sounds as though you made the right choice in turning from service to the Rough Beast. Still, I know what it is to be far from home. You do us honor with your presence, Khismia." The elf pulls a draught from his mug and places it firmly on the table. He spends a few moments watching the dancers before shaking his head and looking back to his companions and smiling slyly before turning toward the king.
Vissakiel clears his throat, then speaks up so that he can just be heard above the music and rumble of the crowd. "Your Highness, I think I speak for all of us when I say that your generous hospitality does us more honor than we deserve. We hope to show you an equal measure of respect in completing the service you require of us."
He rises and hoists his mug to the king. "To your good health and greater success. Long live King Blood Eagle."
Evening turns into night, and then night turns into day. The morning brings you in front of a much more somber and serious king. "My friends," he says, "I must ask a grave task of you. Over the last month three of my outlying villages have been destroyed. However, as near as my scout can tell me they were not attacked. It is as if one morning everyone woke up and disappeared. My greatest sages are at a loss to explain it. I wish for you to se the answers and find out what has happened to my people. Will you do this?"
Vissakiel stands next to his new companions, listening to the king's request. The news of three villages suffering this strange fate intrigues him.
"Great King, I do not wish to insult you, nor do I wish to talk myself out of a job, but I must know. Have you no other scouts or spies who might be able to determine the source of this mysterious threat?"
"It is a valid question," the king responds. "My own warriors and scouts believe the region to be under a curse and will not travel there. Thus I have been forced to turn to outlanders such as yourselves to discover the truth of this matter."
Seeming less childish than she did the night before Diviha stands before the king in worn form fitting leathers that do little to hide the suple curves of her body, or the strange, almost goat like shape of her lower legs. She listens to the mighty Kings words with an intense intrest. Once he finishes with elf, she steps slightly forward and speaks with pride in her sing song voice. "Your Majesty, my mother's husband was raised in these lands, and spoke often of the courage and honor of your people, he passed from this world only two winters past. It was his hope to someday bring a girl child not his own, but loved as if she were, here.I could not dishonor his spirit by doing anything but doing what I can to help your people." With this somewhat grand statement she kneels before the king and awaits his response.
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Vissakiel frowns. He thinks to himself, "The annihilation of three villages in a short span of time would qualify as a curse in my book. Still, it certainly bears investigating."
Watching Diviha's surprisingly formal display, the elf can't hold back a slight smirk, but he says nothing.
"It would appear three of us are ready to lend our talents to assist you. I will allow Fiani to choose for herself, and then we should discuss the terms of our contract, O Great King."
Fiani waits for the others to comment and decide, digesting everything from th enight before and the kings request. She remains kneeling down cuddling the badger hiding her face. Interesting she thinks to herself, three cursed towns? Not likely.
At the responses of her new found companions she looks up at the king, "I have no grand speaches or personal motive that guides my decision. It is pure curiousity, and a desire to help others. Yes, Mi Lord, I will lend what magic I have."
Vissakiel frowns. He thinks to himself, "The annihilation of three villages in a short span of time would qualify as a curse in my book. Still, it certainly bears investigating."
Watching Diviha's surprisingly formal display, the elf can't hold back a slight smirk, but he says nothing.
"It would appear three of us are ready to lend our talents to assist you. I will allow Fiani to choose for herself, and then we should discuss the terms of our contract, O Great King."
The king smiles at Vissakiel. "Do not worry good sir, once this mystery is solve you shall find that my generosity knows few bounds. For the time being, I will allow you limited access to my stores for this mission."
"You are most kind my leige, I have most of what I need, but a potion or such would not be unwanted, thank you." The young girl galnces the way of her allies and thinks to herself "I wonder how we shall fare, I wonder..." she gives a nervous smile to the handsome elven sorcerer, as she gracfully rises to her feet.
Vissakiel nods. "Your generosity and honor are legendary, Great King. I am sure whatever tools you can provide will prove helpful. I wonder, however, how your subjects will respond to outsiders investigating these troubles. Would it not be wise for us to carry some sign of your hand in our workings? I would not presume to display such a token openly unless the need were great, but there may be some who refuse to speak to us unless we carry the full authority behind your throne. In truth, it was to this--the extent and symbols of our authority--that I referred when I mentioned the terms of our contract."
"Ah yes," the king motions to one of his servants. The servant leaves through a side door and returns a few minutes later with a small box. The king opens the box when it is handed to him and pulls out a chain with a medallion at the end. "This medallion will tell all who see it that you are on my buisness and act with my authority."
"Thank you, Your Highness. With your permission, we shall retire and gather our supplies for the journey ahead. We will, of course, require directions to the villages affected by this menace. A map of the surrounding lands would be helpful, as well, if one is available."
Once their business is complete, Vissakiel bows deeply and departs with his new companions.
"I suppose that went as well as could be expected. Do any of you know this town well? I do not know where to find the best supplies. I am ready for the journey, for the most part, but we should make good use of the king's offer."
At first light, you set off into the wilds to seek the answers the king seeks. Armed with your supplies, a map of the region, and your skills you feel confidant you can handle most anything. That is until you hear the massive wooden gates close behind you and realize that you are entirely on your own now.
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Khismia turns to watch the gates close with a certain finality. She lingers a second then turns, catching up to the others with a quick jog.
"So are we simply visiting these towns in order, or what. I am not one fro planning, I am merely one for carring out said plans, so I defer to the superior tactics of you all."
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Vissakiel takes a moment to breathe in the crisp northern air, then looks to each of his companions.
"Well, since we have no idea what we're dealing with, I think the first thing we need is information. The idea of an entire village of people disappearing overnight. That would require a consolidated and highly organized attack, an act of extreme stealth on the villagers' part or magic of incredible power.
"I think we should travel toward the nearest of the 'cursed' villages and find out what we can from the surrounding communities. We'll likely get more rumor and myth than anything else, but even rumors can sometimes provide us with clues."