[hider=Cowritten with most of the RP group]
Two weeks after Viarosa, the band of would-be dragonslayers rode through the mountains now known as the Dragon's Spine. If their mission was not so important, it would have been wisdom to wait until some season other than winter. Alas, things were truly dire and so, they were here in the cold, unforgiving mountains as a blizzard did its very best to punish them for their audacity. Icy winds full of snow whipped at the riders and it became increasingly difficult for them to see. "We need to find shelter!" Herbert tried to shout, but was drowned out by the wind's howling. Unable to speak, he gestured desperately for the others to follow him in the hopes that they could still see him and would comply. Those nearest to him followed in the hopes that he had some sort of plan. By luck more than anything else, the smaller group managed to find the entrance to a cave and led their horses inside. For some reason, the beasts seemed more and more uneasy the further in they ventured.

The monster hunter from Krossavik took note of the horses discomfort and dismounted as quietly as he could before turning to the others, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing motion and gesturing for them to get down. Experience had taught him that when the animals started getting nervous, it was often a warning sign that something nasty was nearby. He didn't know exactly what was in this place, but if they could get the element of surprise, it certainly wouldn't hurt. Herbert beckoned the others closer and whispered an explanation of the situation. "Usually when the horses start acting up, it means there's something nearby. Don't know what's down here but let's stick together and keep quiet. If we're lucky, we can surprise it." As he spoke, he took a quick headcount of who was with him. Erika, the Hoffen girls, Ceara, and Angela were the only ones he saw. He hoped the others would survive, but there was nothing he could do for them right now and he'd have to look after those he could.

Rhiara and Athaliah huddled together under a heavy fur cloak, while Angela used her magic to summon a fireball in her right hand. Her dragon-skull hemlet covered her head, but it didn't do much good in helping her warm up. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly as Herbert laid out his plan. "If there's anything in this cave, it's either hibernating or it's frozen; no mountain creature would be stupid enough to be active in the winter." Angela stuttered a few times, even with a fireball right next to her; Vilvere knights never did do well in the freezing cold. 
Athaliah shook her head, but never opened her mouth to speak.

Herbert looked at Angela with annoyance. "Dragons are not the only dangerous and often unfriendly creatures in this world. I assure you that there are plenty of monsters that are unbothered by the cold and even thrive in it. Have you heard of wendigos? Formerly humanoid beings that resorted to eating the flesh of other sapient humanoids to survive and were met with a terrible curse. Neither alive nor dead, but possessed of an eternal and insatiable hunger, they love isolated places like this and only venture out to hunt. Count yourself lucky that we're too far from the ocean to face an Akhlut, but they venture onto land in the frozen north to hunt. The Qiqirn - though not particularly dangerous - wander the snowy wastes. Need I go on?"

"Leintke," Angela sighed. "there's [i]nothing[/i] here." She nodded her head towards the deeper part of the cave. "If something were awake in there, we'd have heard it." Angela glanced back towards the entrance of the cave - the snow was hammering the ground and showed no sign of stopping soon. "We'd better go deeper; don't want to freeze to death, do we?"

"Lets just walk carefully, ok everyone?  No use squabbling."  Ceara rubbed her hands together to restore some warmth to them.  "We need to warm up and then go back out and find everyone else.  This weather isn't going to get better anytime soon."  She looked at Herbert.  "I don't know about your a... akulits...  or anything else, but this place seems better than the howling storm right out there."

"Aye, it's better. I'm just saying we should proceed with caution. To be careful and find nothing is better than to be careless and run across something decidedly unfriendly.'" Agreed Herbert before continuing to lead the way. Close behind, Erika quietly wished the cave was bigger. If it turned out that there was something here, she simply didn't have the space needed to transform and contribute significantly to the fight.

A while further into the cave, they found a small cavern full of icy corpses. The bodies were primarily those of orcs and goblins with a few other other races sprinkled in and most had snow packed upon them to keep them cold and preserved. Herbert looked about before creeping forward to inspect the bodies. Much to his surprise, he found that some of the corpses had what appeared to be wounds from a sizable battleaxe. There was one orcish corpse, however, that caught his attention. Unlike the others, it was not packed in snow and it had sizable amounts of flesh missing as if they had been hacked away. Also concerning was the fact that this particular body was the one closest to the cavern's other exit visible from where the six of them stood.

Ceara crouched near the pile of wretched bodies, peering at them with deepening concern.  “Herb, could you tell me which kind of monster can do something like this?"  

"A barbarian, that's what." Angela said, before Herbert could even open his mouth. "He's been killing them, and freezing the corpses to eat later."
Rhiara already had her bow out, with an arrow at the ready. Her expression was one of extreme discomfort - the sight was terrible, but the smell was worse. 
Meanwhile, Athaliah had taken her shield off of her back and readied her spear, just in case. "Whomever did this is still nearby." she pointed towards the exit to the cavern with her spear. "See those footprints? I'd say they were here at most a few minutes ago." 

"She's right, some of the bodies have blade wounds and those footprints still look fresh. We're probably dealing with a who rather than a what." Said the monster hunter as he drew one of his swords and a canteen of blood. Meanwhile, Erika readied her knife. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Her job would be to make sure her companions were put back in one piece if things went poorly.

Herbert walked forward to the exit, doing his best to keep quiet. When he was close, he caught another scent besides that of death. It was faint but it was definitely there. It was the smell of cooking flesh. Whatever savage was responsible for the cave full of bodies, it seemed they were preparing for a meal.

Angela pulled her sword from its scabbard, and the metallic [i]schwing[/i] reverberated around the open cavern. "Get inside here, right now!" her voice carried the same tone of authority it had when she was in Viarosa. When no answer came, Angela used her magic to set her left hand on fire and then ran her armoured hand across the length of her blade; the sword eagerly erupted into flame. 

The knight marched towards the exit, with the rest of them following a little further behind.

Before the party reached the exit, the hulking frame of an aging brute of a man filled the mouth of the tunnel carrying a sizable axe. He was wrapped in furs to keep out the cold and the parts of him that were visible bore many a scar. He scowled at Angela and hefted his axe as a dire warning. "It ain't exactly the best of manners to enter a man's home uninvited and make demands." With that, he stepped forward menacingly. Fortunately for all involved, the confrontation was interrupted by Erika who looked at the barbarian with disbelief and spoke. "Bjorn? Is that you?"

The man turned his attention away from Angela and to Herbert and Erika who had both sheathed their weapons and were quickly moving past the Vilvere Knight. His stony face broke into a grin as he put down his axe and spread his arms to embrace the pair with a laugh. "Herb! Erika! I've missed you two! Sorry for the mess, what are you doing here?"

Angela extinguished the flames clinging onto her sword, before sheathing it soon afterwards. Angela had never expected to find Bjorn at all, much less alive and well. Despite the fact that Herbert and Erika clearly trusted him, she did not. Whomever the man once was might no longer be inside the barbarian's head.

As Bjorn let go of his adoptive children, Erika began to explain. "Well, we're trying to find a way to kill Htraknu and we figured we'd start by looking for your hideout in case you had information about where to find artifacts of the gods. I'm pleasantly surprised to see you're still alive and it was by luck rather than anything else that we stumbled into your ... ice box ... while looking for somewhere to shelter from the blizzard."

The berserker's expression turned grim once more. "Well, I'm glad you've come to join me - especially now that Htraknu's started killing Shaituns instead of just towns." He gestured to his axe. "Makes my desire to lodge this old thing into his skull seem even less practical than before." Bjorn finally turned his attention back to the others accompanying his fellow Krossavikers and spoke. "I suppose you should probably introduce me to your friends."

Ceara took an apprehensive step towards the immense man, making absolutely certain that there was leeway between herself and Bjorn.  “Hello,” she said cautiously.  “My name is Ceara Eachaidh, I’m a friend of your, um…"  The thief paused, her eyes drifting towards the pile of frozen corpses. "I work with Herbert and Erika.”

The hulking barbarian smiled down at the red-headed thief in an attempt to be reassuring that was somewhat undermined by the scars marring his face and the contents of the small cavern. "My full name's Bjorn Theobald. Nice to meet you, miss." He said before extending his hand for her to shake.

Athaliah and Rhiara stayed where they were, between Herbert and Angela. "I'm Athaliah, Mister, ah... Bjorn. And this..." and trailed off and looked towards Rhiara, but her lips were sealed. "this is Rhiara. Herbert and Erika are good friends of ours."

Bjorn withdrew his hand since Ceara didn't seem inclined to shake it and waved to Athaliah and Rhiara. "Nice to meet you as well. Any friend of Herbert and Erika is a friend of mine." He then turned his attention to the last member of the party who had yet to be introduced. "And who might you be?"

"Chevaleresse-Lieutenant Angela Kõivli." she could not have sounded more uninterested if she had tried. "All we need is any information you can give us, then we'll be going and you get to back to doing whatever it is people like you do."

This was met with a chuckle from the scarred Northerner. "You honestly think I'm just going to lurk in the mountains picking off some underlings here and there when I finally know that others are eager to do something about the dragon? Clearly, I need to properly introduce myself." With that, he cleared his throat before bursting into song.

"[i]Okay, okay, I see what's happening here 
You're face-to-face with madness and it's strange 
You don't even know how you feel, it's adorable 
Well, it's nice to see that heroes never change 
Open your eyes, let's begin 
Yes it's really me, It's Bjorn, breathe it in 
I know it's a lot: the scars, the bod 
I'm blessed and cursed by a dark god  

What can I say except "you're welcome"?
For keeping dragon overlords from the sky 
Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome 
I'm just an ordinary berserker guy!  

Hey, what has two thumbs and roared at the sky 
When you were waddling ye high? This guy 
When the nights got cold, who slaughtered demons from down below? 
You're looking at him, yo! 
Oh, also I lassoed Htraknu's son, you're welcome 
So you could live in peace and have fun 
Also, I called on the furies, you're welcome 
To make the cultists shake at the knees  

So, what can I say except "you're welcome"? 
For the islands safe in the sea 
There's no need to pray, it's okay, you're welcome 
I guess it's just my way of being me 
You're welcome, you're welcome  

Well, come to think of it 
Kids, honestly, I can go on and on 
I can explain every nearby going-on 
Especially the angry dragon sound 
Oh, that was Bjorn just messing around 
I killed a dragon, I ate its guts 
Climbed a tree, heard Htraknu go nuts 
What's the lesson? What is the takeaway? 
Don't mess with Bjorn when he's on the breakaway 
And the tapestry of  my enemies' skin 
Is a map of the victories I win 
I've been making sure Htraknu's dreams don't happen 
Look at that crazy Bjorn just tippity tapping 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hey 

Well anyway, let me say you're welcome 
For the wonderful world you know 
Hey, it's okay, it's okay you're welcome 
Well, come to think of it, we gotta go 
Hey, it's your day to say "you're welcome" 
'Cause I can't keep doing this alone 
Today's the day, the day, you're welcome 
'Cause I can't kill Htraknu on my own 
You're welcome, you're welcome[/i]"

With his song complete, Bjorn coughed and smiled with amusement in his eyes. "My apologies, I have a lot more free time than I know what to do with, so I wrote and practiced that in the hopes that someday, help would show up."

“Aha, wow!  Well done.  What a song, thanks for that one.”  Ceara did her best to sound genuine.  “Well, I hate to leave this [i]event[/i], but I’m going to go check for our pals near the entrance of this cave.  I’ll let you guys, um, catch up or whatever is going on right now.”  With that, the thief nodded to her compatriots and speedily made her way out of the corpse-filled cavern.

Angela watched and listened to Bjorn's singing, utterly stunned at this new development. Athaliah and Rhiara smiled as Bjorn went through with his song; Rhiara began to clap almost as soon as he had finished. "Where'd you learn to sing like that?!" the snowy girl had not expected this man, of all people, to be a decent singer. 
"Oh, and why did you create a song in the first place?" Athaliah asked soon after.

"Practice and far too much free time, to answer both your questions." Said Bjorn as his smile widened into a grin. "Gotta do something to pass the time up here while lying low to avoid being spotted by angry dragons. They don't usually come to investigate, but every once in a while, they decide to something about all the disappearances. I'd have a go at them too, but they've since learned not to travel alone."

Erika cleared her throat. "Bjorn, do you mind if we wait for the blizzard to let up somewhere other than your ice box? We have provisions that aren't fallen enemies and we have enough to share."

"Oh thank the gods." Said the berserker with a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how rare real food is up here." With that, he started walking back the way he'd come and motioned for the others to follow him.

Angela clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Great, sure,  let's follow the mad barbarian." Despite her complaining, she nevertheless followed the rest of the group.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Outside the cave entrance - or rather, a good half mile's trek ahead over steep, rocky ground - the remainder of the party pushed ever forwards, a thick veil of driving snow blinding them but for a few feet ahead and freezing their fingers to the bone. Jagged icicles formed on clothes and hair, and the poor horses that carried each adventurer snorted and stamped in distress, clouds of steam erupting from their flared nostrils only to be blown instantly away by the chill winds. Pained grimaces barely concealed worried expressions, that small group having realised some time ago that the rest of their comrades had disappeared. Yet turning back, deeper into the heart of the all-consuming blizzard, was suicide, as was staying still and waiting for their friends to catch up - and what if they had gone on ahead, anyway? Truly the only recourse was to push on, and hope and pray that no terrible fate had befallen any one of them.

The Grandmaster had since taken point the moment it was apparent that the others had vanished into the opaque ice clouds that surrounded them. Frantically searching about for their missing allies, Lucian noted that it was becoming all the harder to see those that were still with him. He counted the Krossavikers, Hoffenites, the thief, and the Vilvere among the lost, which left him with the slave-soldier, his Apostles, the Bard, the Magister, and Allen. Oh, and the witch-hunter.

That was half the group, and this storm was intensifying, with no shelter in sight. Attempting a deep breath, the sub-zero air was like needles in his lungs. He closed his frosted eyelids and muttered a brief prayer. He brought his wagon to a stop and stepped back over the driver's seat and onto the top of a crate in the middle of the wagon itself. With as loud a voice as he could muster, Lucian roared for everyone around him to stop moving and stay close. As he said this, he held his hands aloft, bright orbs of white light enveloping his palms. Directing his hands to the ground, he fired his magic down at the ground besides the carriage.

What began as two orbs of light, merged and became one. Then, upon contact with the snow, the light began expanding outwards, the source spreading out towards the other members of the party. It became more sparse as it grew, the bright white dimming to reveal a shimmering golden aura ballooning out in the shape of a dome. And as it did so, the others would notice that the snow which had been assailing them became misdirected, sliding off of the dome of light as a sense of warmth came over them. Steam billowed forth from the snowy ground as the rapid shift in temperature melted some of the ice and snow away.

"[i]Solanius spes nostra,[/i]" Lucian mumbled as he hopped off the cart and stepped around to the back of it. He signalled to Kinara and Sorano to aid him in unloading a few boxes, likely containing food or drink.

As the others warmed themselves in the sorcerous heat Lucian had conjured, Gottmar merely turned ever paler, greyer, the ice that coated his eyebrows and hung from his hair creeping further over him even as its outermost layers began to melt. He grimaced, silent, and with stiffened hands grasped his horse's reins as tight as he could, that they might not slip from his hold should the bitter cold take him completely.

Allen dismounted from his chestnut mare and led the aging horse closer to the center of the dome. He shed his quilted gambeson as the air quickly heated. He used his fingers to brush the snow out of his hair, looking up in awe as a small coating of snow began to build on the dome above. 

"How long can he keep this up?" He asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Long enough for us to catch our breaths, warm up, get our bearings, and find the others," Lucian replied. Cracking the lid of the crate off, it was revealed that the crate was carrying bottles of some alcohol. A clear, foggy pomace brandy in short, stout bottles. "Tsipouro. Sorano found this in Viarosa and ordered a small supply," he explained, taking out a bottle to better display it to those watching.

"Figure that we might as well enjoy something a mote stronger than the usual drinks. This should give us the feeling of warmth, at the least. As for actually warming up, are we in favor of a fire and a meal?" Sorano inquired, glancing over to the other party members and gesturing as if to count a show of hands.

"And before you ask, neither smoke nor quantity of air is going to be an issue," Lucian clarified.

Nima adjusted his heavy cloak, casting the red cloth over his armoured shoulders now that the cutting winds of the blizzard were blocked.  The slave-soldier peered through the golden shield that protected the adventurers, discerning nothing but the furious snowstorm that clouded the mountainous landscape.  “We should not pause to break provisions.”  He reported.  “The storm is dangerous, and the others will die in it.  Until we find them, we cannot stop.” 

"So that's one vote against a fire," Lucian remarked. "Though you raise a fair point, Nima. We're going to retrace our steps once we've recovered from the elements for a brief time, precisely because this storm is so dangerous. It wouldn't do us any good to keep freezing and reverse progress. Besides," he said, pointing to the preserved horse tracks within the dome. "We've been moving a fairly straightforwards path for the better half of the day. We follow the tracks even after they have faded, we may eventually reunite with our lost comrades."

"We won't be here long, anyway," Kinara remarked, scowling at Nima. "Better to spend five minutes warm than another hour nearly frozen over. Do you want any of the pomace brandy or not?"

"Easy, my friend. I'll be happy to make him something warm if he turns down the alcohol. He has been accommodating to us thus far, despite our history. What hypocrite would I preach yet not practice that we ought to do the same for him?" Lucian replied, gently patting Kinara's arm. Wordlessly, she relented with a light huff and focused her attention on the others.

“The snow will cover these prints in a short time, and we will not uncover them again.  I know this well.  The ones that ran from the [i]Najul[/i] were rarely found in the winter.  The elf-masters would only see them when the snows melted and the bodies rot.”  Nima paused, turning and staring at Lucian through the chainmail that covered his face.  “I will not drink anything now.  I would continue alone, if permitted by my officer.”

Lucian considered his request, glancing between Kinara and Sorano before smiling at Nima, and yanking the metal, leatherbound canteen from off of his belt and handing it to the soldier. "Very well, but at the least take some fresh water with you, or fill this with snow and have it melt over time to keep up the supply," he replied. "Given Ceara is among the missing, it could not be a stretch to suggest you would want to find her and bring her and the others hither?"

As the paladin and the slave-soldier conversed, Sorano and Kinara were already setting up in the center of the light shield. The Samothauress was breaking firewood down and trying to establish a firepit in spite of the slowly melting snow, digging a hole to solid ground before starting. Besides her was the inert body of the witch-hunter, and as toxic as the fellow had been to her and her compatriots, she could not help but feel concern, for it just as easily could have been Allen, Sorano, or worse still, Lucian.

The Sun Elf continued to set out cookery, fully intending to try a quick and simple recipe for soup. Yet, as he watched Kinara work by the body of Gottmar, he solemnly remarked to himself the condition of the Witch-Hunter. "Not even the holy magic of the Gods has any effect on the man, neither to his benefit nor his detriment. What sorry and ironic conclusions one could draw about the nature of their rituals, the Witch-Hunters." He chuckled to himself and crouched over the rudimentary firepit, hands now crackling with shock magic, held over the sticks and straw in an attempt to spark the first flames. "Well, Lucian seems all the more content to labour with the likes of Easterners, vampires, and Vilveres," he admitted with a casual shrug as smoke began rising from the pit, the fires spreading around to slowly but surely overtake the kindling. Clapping his hands together and rubbing the palms as the last arcane sparks dissipated, he smirked at Kinara and finished his thought, saying "What, then, is a church radical to the man whose mother was murdered by the sort?"

Kinara carefully dragged Gottmar closer to the fire, then planted her bottom in the snow, holding her hands out closer to the flames. She sneered at Sorano in mild disgust. "I don't care for the Easterner either, but that isn't fair to Lucian in the slightest, Sorano," she spat, "It wasn't the witch-hunters that took Lady Aurelia from this world."

"We're beset on all sides by those who despise us. Between this frozen bastard, the woman with the dragon bascinet, the five borderline apatheists to include the red-headed klepto who pilfered from the vault at Mirador, and the Sindhusi demon who murdered Themistokos, I feel like Lucian is putting too much trust in people who would just stab us all in the backs the moment our usefulness expires."

She glared coldly into the elf's bright yellow eyes, clearly resenting the mention of her fallen friend. "Everything he does, he does for a purpose, Sorano. I trust him with my life, and I know without a shadow of doubt that you do as well. We've been in worse company before. You saw yourself, it took time for me to adjust to [i]him.[/i] Patience is a virtue we cannot afford to lose."

Sorano took a deep, irritable breath, but slowly let it out, his expression softening. "So be it, Kina," he replied. He glanced over to Gottmar and gestured towards him, adding, "Turn the maniac over. I think he's starting to thaw. I'm going to get some lunch going for us while the Easterner tracks down the others."

Nima walked past the fledgling flame, pulling his crimson cloak forwards again before he returned to the winter uproar.  He paused at the edge of the golden shield and drew an inverted triangle on his chest with his right hand, whispering a few words in his own language.  Without speaking to anyone else, he moved through the curtain of shimmering light and disappeared into the snowy tempest.

As the fire crackled beside him, the last of the ice that had covered Gottmar's skin finally melted, droplets of water running off his pale face and hitting the ground below. Still, though, the man remained motionless, with not even a heartbeat to signal that he remained in the ranks of the living. Seconds came and went, minutes passed, and still the witch hunter was, to all intents and purposes, a corpse.

Without warning, a great rattling wheeze erupted from Gottmar's mouth. He jolted upright, looking around with wild eyes, rasping breaths filling his lungs with warm air. With a shaking hand, he reached up to touch the symbol of Calidorus that hung around his neck, before collapsing back down to lie by the fire, groaning as he slowly tested his stiffened limbs.

"Welcome back, high and mighty," Sorano quipped, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the contents of an iron pot suspended over the firepit. Whatever he had been preparing for the last several minutes looked to be some form of pottage, smelling of herbs and meat. Were one to look into the pot, they would notice that it certainly did not seem professionally made, the slices of vegetables and chicken sausage being quite irregularly sized. Then again, he was preparing it without many tools save for the knife and stirring spoon. It smelled appetizing enough, at any rate. "It'll be a few more minutes if you care to eat. If not, there's a freshly cracked-open crate of Viarosan tsipouro to drink," he said, withdrawing the spoon and emphatically tapping it against the rim of the pot before sticking it in the snow.

The witch hunter heaved himself painstakingly off the ground, finally standing on his own two feet once more. He looked down at the elf, then to the food and drink, and back once again to the elf. "You... have my gratitude," he muttered gruffly. "...heretic."

Recognizing that this would probably be the most he'd get out of the Witch-Hunter, the mage nodded towards Kinara, who sat warming her hooves, then looked to Gottmar and replied, "You should thank her -- she built the pit and dragged you out of the snowbank you collapsed into." Kinara said nothing, but gave a gentle wave in response. "All I did was spark it."

Gottmar gave a nod of thanks in the direction of the samothaur, accompanied by the closest thing to a smile the perpetually grim man could force himself to muster. It was not an expression he wore well.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ceara sat at the mouth of the cave bundled in her winter clothes.  The horses shifted nervously, seemingly unnerved by both the storm and the cavern itself.  The thief could understand both their concerns - the blizzard was dangerous, but the maniac that dwelled in this place seemed similarly alarming.  Ceara hadn’t started this journey with much confidence in victory, but if that singsong murderer was the key to defeating Htraknu, things looked even less promising than before.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a dark shape forming in the swirling midsts of the storm.  The thief instantly rose to her feet, spooking several of the horses in the process.  Ceara couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but she feared that whatever was wandering around in such weather could only be wild.  Her thoughts drifted to the frightful beasts that Herb had described earlier, and also to the tall tales that she had heard of these mountains before ever getting involved with any of these people.  Cannibals and feral giants, terrible stories of doomed adventurers and obscure horrors.  Be it a monster or a man, the shadowy outline continued to move towards the entrance to the cave.  The thief thought about calling for the others, but decided that it would be best not to draw attention to herself with this thing meandering directly outside.  Instead, she knelt to the floor of the cavern and grasped a sizeable rock, ready to use it if the figure drew too close.  

The horses seemed to realize her own tensity and began to panic themselves, struggling to move deeper into the cave.  The figure continued its invariable pace, and now Ceara was certain that it was making for the cave.  “Oy!  Guys!” she yelled to her comrades deeper in the cavern. “I’ve got problems up here!”  When she turned back, it seemed that the shape had quickened its march.  Preparing to retreat, Ceara threw her rock in the general direction of the advancing threat and turned to scramble into the lower parts of the cave.  Instead, she heard a faint metallic clang rise above the wailing winds, followed directly by an apathetic groan.  

“Oh infernum, Nima?”  Ceara walked out of the cave and closer to the figure, finally making out the distinct armour and glowering eyes of her eastern friend.  She smiled broadly, grabbing his arm and helping him make the short trek into shelter and out of the raging blizzard.  “You hit me with a missile.” mentioned the slave-soldier as they both shook the snow off their covers.  “A rock.”  

“I only did it because I thought you and the rest of the team would be long gone by now.”  Ceara beamed again, gladdened by the appearance of her friend.  “I was being cautious, like you’re always telling me I should.”

Nima wiped the freezing sleet off his armour, reviewing his surroundings as he recovered from the elements.  It was very clear that he had been struggling in the storm, and nearly every part of him was covered in some form of ice.  “Very well.”  He accepted.  “I have come from the others.  They have paused a long distance from here, using the grandmaster’s magic to block the weather.  Where are the rest of the missing?”

“They’re here with me, not to worry.”  Ceara replied.  “We found this cave after we lost you lot.  Good to hear that you’re all alright, I should say.”  The thief paused for a moment, as if remembering something important.  “We’ve found Bjorn, by the way.  Turns out he was living here, eating frozen corpses and writing a song.  I don’t know if he’s completely, ah, balanced.”

With spectacular timing, Bjorn and the others arrived behind Ceara mere moments after the thief questioned Bjorn's mental stability. Fortunately,the aging berserker didn't show any indication of having heard Ceara's remark, or at the very least, he didn't show any sign of taking offense. With his axe over his shoulder, Bjorn eyed the Easterner innocuously and casually asked "I take it this fellow is part of the problems you mentioned having up here?"

Catching his adoptive father's implied offer to dispose of Nima, Herbert quickly clarified the slave-soldier's identity. "Nima's with us and he normally sticks together with Ceara. There were more members of our party, but we were separated by the blizzard. I doubt he's one of the problems, if the problems weren't just a misunderstanding."

Nima eyed the berserker cautiously, but he only addressed Herbert.  “The Grandmaster has settled on the road with the rest of our party.  He has created a barrier from the elements, but I do not know how long it can last.”  He paused.  “We should all move to this shelter, but I am uncertain that the party can move while this blizzard makes travel dangerous.  I believe it would result in yet more separation and confusion.  How should I proceed?”

"We should probably wait here until the blizzard dies down." Decided Herbert. "Odds are that Bjorn's weathered plenty of blizzards, so we're safe here. Hopefully, Lucy'll be able to hold out until the blizzard dies down. I doubt he's half-god as he claims, but hopefully whatever his non-human half is, it'll give him enough strength to keep the barrier in place. Odds are that if we went to join him, it'd do more harm than good since he'd have to make the barrier large enough to account for us as well as the others. Unless of course, you're suggesting we head to the shelter to try to bring the others here, which would be difficult due to the blizzard hindering travel. It's unlikely that we can help them so it might be best to stay here and hope for the best rather than put ourselves in danger as well. How far do you think they are?"

"I do not know the exact distance.  It is difficult to know in the storm."  Nima looked back at the cave entrance, watching the snow howl past the rocky opening.  "I think casualties are likely if we go back to the grandmaster.  The weather is... not good."

"No point in getting ourselves killed. Hopefully they'll make it, but there's nothing we can do for them." Said Herbert, matter-of-factly.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nima trudged through the unbroken snow, sinking up to his knees as he searched for the lost members of their party.  The storm seemed to have passed, and the sun now shone on a landscape choked with white.  The slave-soldier had left the rest of the group as soon as the blizzard looked to be clearing, and although there was no distinct trail to follow, his duty demanded that he search for his commander and report presently.  Whether Lucian had kept the magical shield functioning through the whole storm or the stranded group had found shelter of their own there was no way to know, but he was confident that tracks or evidence of some sort would present itself soon enough.  As Nima crested another snowbank, he finally spotted the other adventurers struggling to maneuver their horses down the road.  Nima quickly accounted for every lost member of the party, even the witch-hunter that was seemingly dying of hypothermia when he had ventured into the squall.  Raising his hand to greet the adventurers, he gestured for them to follow him, which they did until the entire party had reunited at the entrance to the cave.

Angela, in the meantime, had used her magic to light a moderately-sized fire within the cave's entrance. She, along with everyone that Nima had left in the cave, sat huddled around the fire for warmth. The fire also served another purpose - it would make a good beacon. 

After what felt like an eternity, Nima had returned with the rest of the group in tow. Angela glowered at them as they entered the cave; needless to say, she did not appreciate having to wait around for them. The dozen or so adventurers were all tightly crammed into the entranceway at this point.
"Well, that was a disaster." Angela growled. While they were waiting, several thoughts ran though her head - the most notable of which was the group's size and unwieldliness. If it were to be split, the natural leaders of the group would have an easier time and more ground could be covered for the next leg of their quest... not to mention, Angela would be getting rid of a few of her potential rivals. She neglected to mention [i]that[/i] part when she explained her thoughts to the rest of the group, however.

"Besides, we each proved we can handle ourselves in small teams." Angela concluded. She looked to everyone else for what they thought, for possibly the very first time.

"For once, a sensible idea," Gottmar grunted, nodding in agreement. "That way Htraknu can only roast a handful of us at a time - may I suggest all the heretics form one team?"

"Great!" the dragonslayer responded without giving any of the Solanians a chance to speak up for themselves. "Ludenburg, Priscou, you're with me. Same for you, Eibenschütz. As contemptible as you are, you're certainly no heretic." She stared daggers straight into Nima's eyes. "And you as well, cur." Angela wanted to keep as close an eye on Nima as possible. 'Keep your enemies closer' indeed.

Ceara put her hands on her hips angrily.  “Oy, bitch.”  she spat. “I know its hard for your sort, but try to keep things civilized.”  If the insult bothered Nima, he didn’t show it.  His head turned to Lucian almost immediately, and his rigid gaze remained on the grandmaster, as if waiting for some sort of confirmation.  

Before the other dragonslayer or the grandmaster could continue the argument, Bjorn had interjected his hulking frame in between the others to interrupt the confrontation. "Now, I don't know what sort of bad blood there is between you lot or what manner of heresy we're talking about, but if we're splitting up, we might as well split up the folks who can't get along. So, alleged heretics, ginger, and Easterner, you lot should probably be separate from Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine." The barbarian gestured to Gottmar and Angela. "And yes, I am bad with names. Other than that and any other hostilities I'm unaware of, you folks probably have your own ideas on who should be in what group."

Lucian turned to Ceara, smiling faintly. "I would happily take you and Nima if you would rather work with the Order. If the Hoffenites are to go with the Vilvere and the Witch-Hunter, it is meet that our group be equally capable in battle should we be caught up in armed conflict." With that, he glanced towards Herbert, Erika, and Bjorn. "I would appreciate the company and the strength of a manticore, as well as two fellows who know their way around slaying dangerous beasts."

Sorano nudged his Grandmaster on the shoulder, gesturing to Erika. "Are you not both healers? What of the welfare of the other group, if we were to claim you and Erika?"

Reflexively, Lucian's eyes snapped to Angela as he followed up on Sorano's inquiry. "You, Chevaleresse-Lieutenant, can you mend wounds, magically or otherwise?" he asked her. It certainly did not sit right to frontload the healers in a single group, but it also did not feel proper to break Herbert and Erika apart, or to deprive what was currently a three person group (conditionally five, should Nima and Ceara accept his offer) of additional aid.

Angela shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Magically? No. I learned how to fix people up with my own two hands." She turned all her attention to Nima once again, if only for a second. "I can thank your friends for that." she snarled.

"You lot can have Leintke and Nilsson; you'll need them a lot more than we will."
Athaliah emerged from the back of the group, certainly eager to make her opinion known. "Th-that's preposterous! Our group needs healing magic as well!"
Angela barely spared her a glance. "They need those healers because our group has more experienced fighters. Eibenschütz and I, we have more experience than the rest of you combined." She looked at Nima out of the corner of her eye. "And... that, so long as it can kill the right things."

"So, I'll repeat it. Easterner, you are with my group. Take the ginger ninja if you really must." She laid her eyes on Allen next. "Kiddo, you can join us as well; you're looking for a mentor, no? A [i]good[/i] mentor." While she didn't make it known, it was obvious that she was making a stab at Lucian.

Allen snapped to when he was addressed. He'd have prefered to stay with Ser Aquila, soley because he'd already met the man, but he didn't really care much which group he went with, so long as it meant he could continue to improve his swordsmanship. He knew very little about Angela, other than that she was a [i]Chevaleresse-Lieutenant[/i] of the Vilveres; Allen had never seen her fight, but he knew of her order, and that she had to be good to attain such a rank.

He studied her for a moment, her confidence and the authority with which she spoke her words, and reflected on what she meant by killing "the [i]right[/i] things". During the battle of Tiraști, Allen had stayed with the non-combatants; partly for their protection, but mostly for fear of the hideous monstrosities destroying the town. He knew Ser Aquila was capable of killing monsters; he had seen him do it. But the Vilveres slew dragons-not just occasionally, but as their main function. If he were to have any hope of facing Htraknu with the others, he wanted that kind of help.

Allen looked wordlessly to Ser Aquila, an apology plain on his face before turning back to the [i]Chevaleresse-Lieutenant[/i], bowing his head. "I'd be honored to travel with you, Ser Kõivli."

"It matters little. Depart then. When the hour arrives and the Sun claims His son, those who have deemed him their foe shall be humbled," Lucian remarked, stepping forth to close some distance between him and Angela. "A mentor who cannot control their hubris can scarcely be called good," he sneered. "You would deny those under you proper care because you believe yourself superior to your own allies based on conjecture. I know that I stand with my brethren and those who choose to follow me."

"By Calidorus, you sorely lack common sense, heretic," Gottmar growled, glowering at Lucian. "As little as I enjoy speaking in defence of the Vilvere, she is right; what good would a damned sorcerous healer do for us? They would be useless to me. The Eastern heathen would deny their aid. Ser Kõivli evidently trusts her skill enough to believe that she does not need a mage, as do I. We both have practical knowledge of conventional healing." He glanced at Allen, then over at Athaliah and Rhiara. "Only the two girls and the child would possibly benefit, and if three experienced warriors are so badly beaten that it falls to them to fight whatever defeated us, we're all as good as fucked anyway. Take your fucking healer, and if I hear one more self-righteous monologue come out of your cunt mouth I'll plant my fist in it."

"I lack common sense," Lucian replied with a little smirk. Gesturing behind him, towards Erika, he just barely stifled a chuckle and added, "She is far from a mage, preparing medicine from herbs and other substances of nature. Poultices, neither prayer nor arcane power. And perhaps she is blooded in a way that she might use some restorative magic, but I have seen more of potions and splints from her than curative laying-on-of-hands. I am telling you this for your own damned sake, for neither I nor any 'mage' can heal you. That was demonstrated clearly to us all when my protective barrier failed to regulate your temperature as it did for all others we were lost with, Witch-Hunter! And strike me as you may, the Vilvere's word is still good on infighting," he said. He paused, expecting the man to lash out at first. With no physical response, he turned his head to Erika and shook his head in Angela's direction. "It is a choice that you must make, Erika, Herbert, and Bjorn -- if you are coming with any of us. Are you with the Vilvere, or are you with my Apostles and I?"

Erika glanced between the two groups before speaking to the Vilvere. "Angela, you, Gottmar, and Nima might not be particularly interested in my healing, but half of your group still does care about having a healer. I'll stay with Herbert and Bjorn, but I think it may be best if you all considered grouping Athaliah, Rhiara, and Allen with some capable of healing. They may not have the best odds of defeating something that defeats you three, but I'm not fond of the idea of them being doomed to a slow and painful end if they are wounded in battle and there is no one to treat them. You say you learned to heal people with your own two hands, but you are a warrior, not a doctor and I would like to know the full extent of your capabilities before leaving Allen and the Hoffenites under your care."

Angela sighed with exasperation. "Fine." She began. "Let's see... I've cleaned and stitched countless wounds from swords, arrows, whatever. I helped amputate someone's leg and they didn't die. Well, they did, but that was due to starvation on the march home." She paused to think for a second. "Oh, and I helped another knight give birth. I swear to all the Gods, that better not come in handy on this expedition."

"I don't know if we even have nine months, but I doubt it'll come up either way. I'll trust you with the medical care of those under your command. Please do not disappoint me." With that statement that could very well have been a threat if it had come from someone else, Erika turned to Bjorn and Herbert. "Which group do you two want to travel with?"

At this, Bjorn shrugged. "I've only just met this lot." The two looked to Herbert. The scarred monster hunter glanced between the two groups before speaking. "Grandmaster Lucian has requested our presence while Ser Angela has verbally pawned us off onto the other group. I think the choice is clear."

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