[center]The Avatar of the Goddess, The Daughter of the Avatar, The Right Hand, The Left Hand[/center] [center][b]Coastal Capital City, Verde Parla[/b][/center] --- It wasn't her throne room, but her own private library on top of the tower. Even so, her being displeased was readily apparent as the Avatar of the Goddess flicked through a few books, pointedly ignoring her daughter for the moment. The Daughter looked rather nervous, her hands shaking as she fidgeted with her staff. She was wearing the red cloak of a Forhor Nacth, one of those who carries out the handling of heretics and the likes. They were also the ones who reached her first, and helped her in her predicament, which undoubtedly why she was called to her mother right now. The two Hands on either side were the only ones kneeling, their heads down in respect. Even if the Left Hand's hood was staring intently at the Daughter. "Daughter...." The Daughter gave a visible twitch at hearing her mother's voice. "You know, I heard there was a massive gale in town today." The Avatar turned to face her daughter. While she still had the same benign expression, her smile did not reach her eyes. "I wonder if it could be related to a rumor I heard going around." "R..rumors? Whatever are yo-" The Avatar threw a piece of paper in her daughter's face, cutting her short. She turned beet red when she saw what was on the paper. It was a drawing of her likeness, sitting peacefully asleep and perfectly nude. Whoever drew the picture was a talented artist, paying special attention to how her hair fell across her face, her expression of content and that small smile she had. Even right down to the bead of drool dripping down her mouth. "This... this was circulating around town." "I-" "SILENCE!" The Daughter snapped her mouth shut immediately, and simply stood there cowering. Satisfied, the Avatar continued. "You fell asleep on the way to the public bath, and had your sacred vestments taken from you. To make things worse, you now have this.. this thing all around the city! YOU STUPID STUPID-" the Avatar took a deep breath,"- CHILD!" "Avatar.... may we be dismissed?" The Left Hand's hood shifted its gaze towards the Avatar, though the Left Hand herself didn't move a muscle. "Hold. Ensure this... event blows over. No, that does not mean the Right Hand may execute anyone with possession of the drawing." The Left Hand frowned as she heard a small 'tch' coming from the Right Hand. "As you wish Avatar." "Good." With a wave of her hand, the Daughter floated right into the her embrace, the Daughter's hand gripping her staff tightly out of fear. "Now leave us." With a nod, the Left Hand melted into a puddle of shadow, evaporating quickly as she left. The Right Hand however, simply stood up and left using the door, catching a glimpse of the Avatar's punishment to her Daughter as she closed the door. She felt a bit warm as she descended down the stairs. The Avatar can do some spectacular stuff with her shadows after all. --- [center]The Ordinary Fisherman[/center] [center]Outskirts of the Capital City, Fishing Village north.[/center] --- Holfnir stood poised on the bow of the small ship, his muscles tense as he raised the harpoon up, tracking the shadow in the water. Using his rippling muscles to good effect, he threw the spear true to his target, hitting the giant fish square on its side. "Got the little grubber!" The 'little grubber' however, wasn't quite ready to roll over and die however, and dashed through the water,the line tied to the harpoon straining the mast, as the fish dragged the small boat along, with the crew of 5 holding on for dear life. The line snapped, slowing the boat down to a crawl, leaving them in the water gently bobbing about in the waves. With normal fishes, one would expect at this point, the fish is lost and that it was time to find something easier elsewhere. But with the great mawed devilfish, it was almost certain that it would retaliate. And retaliate it did. With a mighty leap, it flew straight out of the water, as big as it was, with its giant maw lined with several rows of teeth heading straight for Holfnir. Until he introduced an oar to its face. *CRACK* After receiving such a blow that popped out one of its eyes, the great mawed devilfish floated along listlessly, stunned by the blow to its head. With a cheer from his men, they hauled the fish into the boat, gave it a few more solid knocks to the head and started to cut it up to pieces, preserving it with layers of salt. Some parts of it will be preserved for the next winter, and some will be grounded and stuffed into sausages, to be sold for a good price when the merchants come. This particular fish also has the toughest skin out of all the fishes here, as well as being as rough as sandpaper, valued by some artisans. Holfnir however was not content with this life. He had caught most of the fishes in this sea, but there was only one he had his eye on. "Oi, Holfnir, come ere and help willya? This blighted fish won't carve itself you know." He nodded and moved towards them, but a movement under the water caught his eye. However, when he turned to examine it more closely, the shadow was gone. Shaking his head, he picked up his carving knife to help his crew ready the fish for storage. Even if he didn't see it clearly, Holfnir already knew what it was. Old Grettel herself, the legendary immortal fish that had stumped fishermen even from before his grandfather's time. And like his father before him, Holfnir had sworn to catch the fish, gaining glory for himself and his crew, earning right to be entombed in the Hall of the Great once his time to meet the Goddess came. --- [center]Gretchen Vim[/center] [center]Kallstad, The Big City in the Tundras[/center] --- Gretchen Vim waited patiently in the Captain's office, silently appraising the value of the objects scattered around this rather dark and smoky room. A black orc sat behind a large mahogany table on one end of the room, carefully unwrapping the protective cloth she had wrapped around the battle axe she had brought. "This... this is the mark of Finjred Mol. How... how on earth did you get your hands on this?" The black orc, the Captain of the Guards in Kallstad, ran his hand on the exquisitely made battle axe, a double swirl mark etched in gold on both side of it's blade. Weapons made by Finjred were extremely rare even in the Forge, but known for it's quality. Though there were others who disagreed and said Hunjar made better weapons, or even Killijre, which Gretchen hated with all her heart as his weapons were too much on the bulky side for her taste. She herself prefered Kanis, though he was relatively unknown, for his creation was lightweight, sharp, and has a simple but effective design. Probably why most people overlook his weapons. The Captain eyed Gretchen, who looked extremely pleased with herself. "Alright, how much do ya want for this?" "Five hundred talons." He splutted out his mead at that. "Are you mad?! I can start up my own forge, and get a farm to boot with that amount of talons!" "Too bad. We had a deal. You asked for the best weapon I can find, so here it is. One made by Finjred himself. [i]Finjred, himself[/i]" She gave a wide smile. "Well, if you feel that way, perhaps I can sell it in the market place later. I'm sure [i]somebody[/i] would want to buy such a [i]rare[/i] and [i]powerful[/i] axe." Gretchen could already see the Captain wants the axe badly, so she went in for the coup de grace. "Tell you what, I'll give you a special discount. Just this once. Four hundred talons just for you, and you get this nice Finjred axe." "Deal!" [center]***[/center] She made her way through the crowded marketplace, weaving through the crowds, her pet barghest Viska chuffing impatiently at her back. It wasn't quite the season for hunting, but she could already see a few people with fine pelts, meats and a small mound of candied tits. Those tits costs a fine bit of money here, but even more in Verde Parla. The tiny birds seemed to live only in this particular area, and could only be caught during specific times of the year. After a while of walking, she found the tavern she sought and entered. Her barghest wisely chose to stay outside and wait, curling up near the door. A barghest in town was nothing special for most, though those who passed near one kept their hands on their weapons. "Gretchen! Mhirnae di bessi! So what can I do for you today?" Almost as soon as she stepped inside, the potbellied man greeted her, enveloping her with a bearhug. If bears had the strength of ogres. "Mhirnae di bessi, Jorick. I'm gathering up people for an expedition today." She squeezed out of his hug, and handed him a piece of paper. "Oh expedition, I can recommend a few people. Nar du ict veint?" She smiled at the question. "Bitewind plains." The tavern grew quiet at the mention of that name, as Jorick himself grew pale. "But no one has ever-" "I know. But, I have this feeling we can make quite a profit if we sought out Bitewind's heart." Jorick sighed, and got her a mug of Verde mead. An expedition to Bitewind plains. Not just a few people traveling together, but a [i]real[/i] expedition.