O B J E C T I V E S
Find the Cache
- Investigate Auonar (ongoing)
[IC] The Voyagers of Duonia: A Medieval Fantasy RP
- Fantasy
- Casual
- Medieval
- Small Group
- GM mickilennial
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mickilennial is trying to survive
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Location: Approaching Auonar, Sókngarðr, The Frostlands
Gudrik Temfarrow didn’t like the cold much.
The frozen wastes were far from the warm sun and greenlander hills of his homeland—of most. He hadn’t spoken much since they left from Ordrin Entheys’ private estate in Aelia. He didn’t owe his old friend a favor, mostly given that he was typically the navigator in these kind of outings. He had been on many of them, but none that he had seen before that caused such unease in Ordrin’s face. Whatever that was in these frozen wastes, in Auonar, was surely important. But what could be so important? It was a curious thought that had crossed old Gudrik’s mind many times as he looked over the motley crew of scavengers, wayfarers, and survivors. One of them stood out to him. Cleaner than the rest with a full set of perfect teeth. Smelled nice, too. He wondered what exactly their role was among the rest of them. Perhaps she was Ordrin's designated leader. A leader of a group mostly composed of girls, well, save for the orc.
Though he’d never say such a thought out loud. He was just the driver. The delivery boy.
If Ordrin wanted to send a bunch of women searching for a chest they could barely lift without the help of the orc, then that was Ordrin’s choice. Still seemed strange. But everything about the job felt strange. He hoped the ladies were more brains than brawn, but he supposed that was why Ordrin found an orc for the mission. He just hoped Ordrin's instincts would not get the women killed, especially the small one who couldn't have been much older than his oldest son.
“We’re about at Auonar now. That’s it, ahead.” He uttered clearly over the movement of the horses and cold, northern wind. “When we’re inside, I’ll wait at the stablemaster until we need to move. Do you really think the caravan is still in the city?”
It was a question to nobody in particular. Part of it was smalltalk, but it was a good question.
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A soft snoring rose from the back of the carriage where a halfling could be found, all wrapped up in furs and curled into a ball. If not for the sound one might've mistook him for a large rock, for the furs seemed to blend into each other and the man underneath didn't appear to move at all, even to breathe. He'd been like that since the moment they climbed into the carriage to leave Aelia, and he hadn't woken up once since, no matter how rough the road or loud his fellow passengers. There wasn't much sleep to be had in the frozen frontier from which he hailed, so he had some catching up to do.
Whether by wild coincidence or supernatural senses Chip began to stir when they neared their destination of Auonar. Heavy laden eyes fluttered open seconds before Gudrik spoke, and something resembling a squeak or a groan passed between his lips. The rock occupying the backseat vanished in a clutter of cloak and clothing as Chip sat up, stretching his arms out far above his head, bones popping and cracking as he did.
Chip Snowdryft was a tiny thing by most people's standards: he stood as high as the average man's elbow and looked thin as a rail even for a halfling; he practically vanished when looked at from the side. He had a narrow face with flushed cheeks, a button nose, and sunken, blue-gray eyes- tired, yet ever vigilant.
Those same eyes turned out the window to get a lay of the land around Auonar as Chip spoke an answer to Gudrik in a light, accented voice: "Doubtful. Better chance they either lost the road on their travels and buried themselves in the snow or were accosted by...something. Lots to kill you up here, Mister Temfarrow. Even the weather!"
Whether by wild coincidence or supernatural senses Chip began to stir when they neared their destination of Auonar. Heavy laden eyes fluttered open seconds before Gudrik spoke, and something resembling a squeak or a groan passed between his lips. The rock occupying the backseat vanished in a clutter of cloak and clothing as Chip sat up, stretching his arms out far above his head, bones popping and cracking as he did.
Chip Snowdryft was a tiny thing by most people's standards: he stood as high as the average man's elbow and looked thin as a rail even for a halfling; he practically vanished when looked at from the side. He had a narrow face with flushed cheeks, a button nose, and sunken, blue-gray eyes- tired, yet ever vigilant.
Those same eyes turned out the window to get a lay of the land around Auonar as Chip spoke an answer to Gudrik in a light, accented voice: "Doubtful. Better chance they either lost the road on their travels and buried themselves in the snow or were accosted by...something. Lots to kill you up here, Mister Temfarrow. Even the weather!"
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There was a thump as Bechina Hallehaukar's Fugue Dance, a seminal work on the historical applications of mental curses, was gently closed. With a sigh and a regretful look, Entyrea Imbryss slid an elaborately-embroidered bookmark between the pages and carefully wrapped it in oilskin before sliding it back into her knapsack. Shivering a bit in the cold, she sat up straighter, shaking her red silk dress and creamy white cloak out to settle them more comfortably over her narrow frame.
She peered past Gudrik, craning her neck to scan the grand stronghold of Auonar. A small smile played over her face as she watched it draw closer. She'd never been to the far north; and while yes, it was a bit unpleasant out--she shivered briefly again--this was a rare opportunity to study the writings of a totally different culture. Besides, she smiled to herself, the cold had never been able to stick to her anyway. If things went really sideways, she could probably conjure enough fire to keep them warm.
"I must agree with--" she paused for a moment, searching her mind for the name that she'd learned in their very brief introductions some time ago, "--Chip, yes?" When she spoke, it carried not only the accent, but also the refined diction of a member of the nobility. As she spoke, she grasped the wood-and-opal staff that leaned on the seat against her, leaning thoughtfully against it as she spoke again. "If this was just a simple matter of the caravan never leaving Auonar somehow, then I get the feeling--perhaps the sinking feeling, in particular--that Enthys wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of contacting us."
"Still," she continued, "at the very least, we may be able to find some kind of clue as to what direction the caravan went if we ask around. Knowledge is power, yes?"
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"That is a good saying."
The voice was smooth and even; and tinted with warmth it pushed it's way through the cold air easily. The largest passenger in the wagon, standing taller than even the horses that drew it, was a half-orc woman named Dular. She carried no family name, only her epithet: succorer. Her orcish blood was quite obvious in her thick ashen skin, long knobby ears, and of course the tusks that poked out of her mouth even while her lips were closed. Despite her title, these traits of hers unnerved many - this Dular was not unaware of. Anytime the carriage driver glanced back at their motley party, Dular evenly met his gaze with a toothy smile. The man wisely said nothing.
If any of the others were uncomfortable with her presence, they did a good job of pretending otherwise. Though Dular chose to believe they weren't. After all, the other women were comprised of scholars and survivors, both the kind of person who knew there were much worse things in this world than someone with pointy teeth and a temper.
As they approached Auonar and the women all roused, Dular pointed an appreciative face in Entyrea's direction. It was a good saying after all, "knowledge is power." She'd have to bring that back to her tribe. Ilneval knew they needed some brain power to go along with their brute strength focused culture. Some kind of popular tagline like that might inspire a few more studious types to emerge. But, that was something to think about in the future. For now, Dular joined the others in looking ahead at the familiar fortress city.
She met eyes with the driver again.
"If weather is killing you Gudrik, seek out tribe. We have the good healing hands," she said, wiggling her fingers at him. Teasing out of the way, Dular leaned back in her seat, comfortable to stay put until the carriage came to a stop. She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a content puff of air, breath crystallizing in the cold. Then, she looked down at Chip beside her. "After hibernation like that, you will be needing food," she told him. Apparently she was in good humor today, frigid wind doing nothing to damper her mood. "We all share a meal together before more business, hm?"
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Location: Approaching Auonar, Sókngarðr, The Frostlands
The carriage driver mulled over the thought as he looked forward while they passed through the gates, the northron guards were imposing yet silent, their eyes like ice as they followed Gudrik’s horse and carriage as they made their way toward the stables.
Auonar was built inside a ruin; a dwarven stronghold, a hain, but with the original owners lost to the page. The northron bards always spoke of them romantically, like a tragedy that none of the current inhabitants of the stretch of snow and ice could remember. The only thing the dwarves left the world was Auonar. Ordrin always found it interesting, a great mystery to uncover. Gudrik never understood it, but he supposed that’s why he was in charge of the horses and little else.
“I’m good, thanks.” He responded to the orc as she mentioned her tribe’s healing hands. “Once I have ale in my belly and a warm fire at my feet I’ll be happy.”
He pulled forward into the stables with his mind immediately on the city’s tavern, though he knew he said he’d wait at the stables.
“I’ll handle the stablemaster, as I said. You do what Ordrin asked of you.” He paused, “And get me an ale or mead, or whatever these… people drink.”
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Two little boots crunched into the snow with nary a sound. Chip drifted away from the carriage, his gait more akin to a leaf on the wind than a normal walk. His body spun as he took in his surroundings. Auonar was unfamiliar to him. The conclave had sent him this direction on a few occasions, but he'd never come close to the city let alone entered it.
There were twice as many people around as he'd seen in the last month. Buildings, carriages and crowds cut off his sight lines in every direction, like he was standing in the center of a dense woodland. At least in the woods he could rely on his ears to warn him of danger, but here? It was loud. Horses were neighing, wheels were turning, people were yelling.
'How does anyone live like this?' He grumbled. 'Can barely hear myself think.'
Chip shook his head and turned to face Dular, answering a question she'd asked him minutes earlier that he'd chosen to ignore until now. "Like to eat as I go. Sitting around wastes time." He explained, tracing his gaze along the street until he spotted what looked like a tavern sign. When was the last time he stepped into a place like that? "Don't like tables, either. Or plates. Just eat with your hands, you know?"
After a beat he turned around again. "Someone else should talk in there," he looked to Entyrea, crinkling up his nose. "You talk a lot."
There were twice as many people around as he'd seen in the last month. Buildings, carriages and crowds cut off his sight lines in every direction, like he was standing in the center of a dense woodland. At least in the woods he could rely on his ears to warn him of danger, but here? It was loud. Horses were neighing, wheels were turning, people were yelling.
'How does anyone live like this?' He grumbled. 'Can barely hear myself think.'
Chip shook his head and turned to face Dular, answering a question she'd asked him minutes earlier that he'd chosen to ignore until now. "Like to eat as I go. Sitting around wastes time." He explained, tracing his gaze along the street until he spotted what looked like a tavern sign. When was the last time he stepped into a place like that? "Don't like tables, either. Or plates. Just eat with your hands, you know?"
After a beat he turned around again. "Someone else should talk in there," he looked to Entyrea, crinkling up his nose. "You talk a lot."
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Tossing the weight of her body and armor off the carriage in a single ragged motion, the soles of Ludith's boots slammed against the packed snow like hooves. Her legs tensed and her shoulders twisted, eyes shifting from face to wandering face. For a brief moment she felt relieved at leather allowing her to stretch so well. The hunt was about pursuit. Anything bulkier belonged to a prey animal.
The blur of snow and grime took a more solid shape the harder she looked, and once more she found herself on edge. Too many things she was unaware of, too many possible threats and snares. The whinnying of a horse at the passing of a guard, alerting the pack of young boys near him to stand straighter, catching the eye of a woman nearby. Bonds like that intersected and weaved around her, making her head thrum in discomfort if she focused too long. The words her companions shared wore on her as well, conversations on topics that eluded her. Only the sensation of discomfort on the freezing tips of her fingers grounded her. Sensations like that were good. They reminded her who she was, what she was doing. It was a balance, though. Too easy to be overly wary, get dragged increasingly farther away from the world around her. Shifting images of beasts would begin forming at the edges of her thoughts, wet fangs snapping and digging deeper into her skull in a flurry of sensations that were part memory and part threat.
She let out a loud grunt, enough to clear her throat and set a fat puff of fog billowing from her mouth. Things needed to be done. No time for that. "Putting anything to your lips without knowing what it is is a bad idea," she told Gudrik. It was meant as a forced attempt at conversation, but her dry demeanor tended to sour her words.
When it came to her line of work, Ludith much preferred signposts and accosting guild attendants to these more ominous methods of chasing leads. She turned to Chip, and with the same lack of warmth, nodded. "You're either in a tavern to seek coin or lose it. Always best not to get comfortable if you're not after something." They were, for today. The sight of the bustling city didn't sit well in her gut. "Too much activity. Can't see how anyone here is going to remember a caravan."
The blur of snow and grime took a more solid shape the harder she looked, and once more she found herself on edge. Too many things she was unaware of, too many possible threats and snares. The whinnying of a horse at the passing of a guard, alerting the pack of young boys near him to stand straighter, catching the eye of a woman nearby. Bonds like that intersected and weaved around her, making her head thrum in discomfort if she focused too long. The words her companions shared wore on her as well, conversations on topics that eluded her. Only the sensation of discomfort on the freezing tips of her fingers grounded her. Sensations like that were good. They reminded her who she was, what she was doing. It was a balance, though. Too easy to be overly wary, get dragged increasingly farther away from the world around her. Shifting images of beasts would begin forming at the edges of her thoughts, wet fangs snapping and digging deeper into her skull in a flurry of sensations that were part memory and part threat.
She let out a loud grunt, enough to clear her throat and set a fat puff of fog billowing from her mouth. Things needed to be done. No time for that. "Putting anything to your lips without knowing what it is is a bad idea," she told Gudrik. It was meant as a forced attempt at conversation, but her dry demeanor tended to sour her words.
When it came to her line of work, Ludith much preferred signposts and accosting guild attendants to these more ominous methods of chasing leads. She turned to Chip, and with the same lack of warmth, nodded. "You're either in a tavern to seek coin or lose it. Always best not to get comfortable if you're not after something." They were, for today. The sight of the bustling city didn't sit well in her gut. "Too much activity. Can't see how anyone here is going to remember a caravan."
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Auonar was truly a breed apart from any city that Entyrea had seen in her life. She'd been around occasionally after she'd resolved to study wizardry, it was true. But most of it had been near where she'd been born and raised. There was plenty of questionable adventures to have in the southron kingdoms, and there was certainly no shortage of rare books to find throughout. So the great dwarven gate held her gaze as they passed through, the vague interest she'd felt outside the city turning to a deep fascination.
When the carriage finally stopped in the stables, she shivered at the cold air once more before wrappping her cloak around herself. "If you want me to do the talking, Chip, then that's perfectly fine by me." The more people she could talk to, the more she could familiarize herself with this new and exciting domain she'd found herself in.
"Well," she responded to...oh, what was her name? Lodah? Ludus? She couldn't quite remember, the books she'd been reading on the journey had distracted her enough that only a catchy name like Chip could stick. She grimaced; she'd need to make more of an effort to remember. Then she stretched, cracking her neck to the side as she stood. "If you're talking about normal people on the street, they might not. It really depends on the caravan, doesn't it?"
She climbed carefully down from the carriage so as not to catch her dress or cloak, inhaling a deep breath of the cold, sharp air.
"Fortunately for us, we don't need to rely on the memories of normal people in the streets. If Auonar is anything like the cities down south--and I don't see a reason for it to be different in this particular manner--there's a person, or an office, or a group, that manages all the commercial goods that leave the city." She stroked her chin with her hand and looked briefly up at the roof as she pulled her staff and heavy, book-laden backpack from the carriage. "There's always the chance, of course, that Ordrin kept it secret from whoever manages that here, in which case we will need to rely on street memory. Still, we'll cross that bridge if we must, yes?"
She turned to their driver, cocking her head. "Gudrik, do you know if there's any office like that in Auonar? You seem well-travelled, and I'm afraid I'm a bit lost here." She laughed lightly.
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As the carriage came to a stop Dular lifted herself out of her seat, but having been tucked away in the interior she waited for the smaller folk to get out before she did herself. The whole vehicle swayed with her steps until she exited, setting her feet in the snow and her arms into the air. The orc woman stretched up high and rolled her neck, letting her head sag on her shoulders until there was a satisfying pop. After that she settled into a more natural pose, hands resting loosely on her hips. She surveyed the city from there, seeing what, if anything, had changed while the others spoke.
It was funny, the way Chip and Ludith were apprehensive. The same feelings expressed in different ways. One stemmed from isolation from other people, the other from exposure... or so Dular thought. She didn't know them that well - any of them in fact - but she liked to speculate. She continued speculating while the other of them said their pieces, nodding along with everything. Her tusks poked out of the faint smile on her face. The ride in the wagon had been quiet and uneventful, but now the group was chatting and the sounds of people moving and working filled the air. This was much preferable to the half-orc, who had always lived and worked closely with others.
"Mm. Do not underestimate a person's nosiness," Dular pointed out. She pulled her coin purse from her hip, untying it and fiddling with the contents inside. For now, she had plenty of funds to buy a plate at the tavern. There were many who preferred to chat over food and drink, even strangers could loosen up over a meal. Dular glanced over at the other women before following up her thought. "People that live in communities, even small one like this, always looking at things that come and go. Want to know everything."
She chuckled. "I am like this too. Never left the traders brave enough to come visit alone."
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Location: The City of Auonar, Sókngarðr, The Frostlands
The people descended from the tribes of The Snjórlið weren’t like the civilized people beyond the river Mikillelfr. In Gudrik’s mind they were disorganized, barely scraping together a society that made any sense. They bartered more than they exchanged wealth for product, they told stories in song rather than scribing, and valued someone’s strength more than their intellect. Their leaders were jarls rather than kings and it was a rightful succession when a commoner challenged a jarl to a duel for his throne. The older adventurer oft called it barbaric and backwards, though the last time he had done so in Ordrin’s presence he had found himself personally backhanded by the merchant himself.
‘Your arrogance is far more barbaric than they.’
He remembered it, much like he remembered that Ordrin had a surprisingly strong backhand.
“They aren’t like you and me.” He replied albeit bluntly to the young woman. “They don’t have guilds or brokers here. Your best bet for information is the tavern and the town markets. Maybe the jarl.”
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The others had made good points. Ludith was just as familiar with villagers' tendency to let their mouths run, in truth. Wouldn't be a good huntress without the ability to put together a cohesive narrative, what a beast looked like, who it tore apart, how and when. The cacophony of sensations had made her assume that information would've been hard to acquire, and she had already begun internally chastising herself for having made a lapse in judgement. A lapse in judgement that could have spiralled into a grave mistake, one that could have led her to her doom had this been an excursion.
"A more traditional way of running things," she uttered to no one in particular, once again shaking off encroaching thoughts. Despite her initial hesitation at cooperating with others, she found herself greatly benefiting from their words. She aimed a nod at Dular. "With places like this, people stick together more, talk more."
Her gauntlets traced the sheath of her blade in a single movement. It was good to feel its weight, know it was there. The cuirass, too, had a satisfying way of digging itself into the sides of her chest. "The tavern is a good place to start then. A tongue wet with alcohol can be wrung for truth."
"A more traditional way of running things," she uttered to no one in particular, once again shaking off encroaching thoughts. Despite her initial hesitation at cooperating with others, she found herself greatly benefiting from their words. She aimed a nod at Dular. "With places like this, people stick together more, talk more."
Her gauntlets traced the sheath of her blade in a single movement. It was good to feel its weight, know it was there. The cuirass, too, had a satisfying way of digging itself into the sides of her chest. "The tavern is a good place to start then. A tongue wet with alcohol can be wrung for truth."
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Ah, another good saying! Dular nodded thoughtfully at Ludith's words. In the cleric's experience, even the biggest fibbers with the wildest tall tales under their belts would giggle and whisper the truth conspiratorially after a few mugs. Someone was always willing to share a secret. In this case, with Ordrin's missing cargo, Dular hoped that it wasn't exactly a secret the citizens were keeping though. That could lead to some trouble in town, the kind that beating up a few people was unlikely to fix. Well, we had better find out sooner than later.
"Then let us not spend any more time out here standing," the half-orc woman said. If she were a fool she would have clapped Ludith, the closest to her, on the back - but as much as she might have wanted to Dular got the feeling the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. She glanced out into the town at large, narrowing her eyes and cocking her head slightly. After a moment her smile widened a little more and she turned back to the group, gesturing ahead.
"It has been a while since I have been in Auonar. Long while. Was a small place, still is, hm? I think I remember where the tavern is, but if I do not, will not be too hard to find," she said. The half-orc started in, trudging through the snow confidently. Really all they had to do was follow the weary folk, that would probably lead them there if Dular couldn't. Once there, she wouldn't mind if Entyrea did all the talking after all, sure that the scholar would have more insight into this kind of thing. The other human as well, both probably more well versed in finding missing cargo. Even Chip may have more experience there, though she figured his strength most likely lay in tracking live prey.
"We can visit merchants after filling ourselves with food... and information," Dular said, adding that last part on quickly. "They would have sharp eye for caravans passing."
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Location: The City of Auonar, Sókngarðr, The Frostlands
Rhoswen had kept quiet.
Between the orc and human noble, the half-elf wasn’t sure what to think. She didn’t particularly trust either person, but Ordrin expected them to not only play nice but to work together to find his property. A cache. Delivered by carriage.
In the southern regions where snow was less of an issue in the warmer months they wouldn’t have needed to stop in Auonar. They would just follow the tracks, but that was the thing about the northern wastes. Snow and more snow. Sometimes hail. Difficult to track something if a snowstorm hits you thrice a fortnight. She nearly chuckled at the thought, for all she knew it stormed much more frequently than that. She couldn’t imagine living up here. The frostbite was bad enough and that wasn’t even factoring in the cultural differences. However, it seemed the orc and the halfling knew how things worked here far more than any who was born south of Auonar. Rhoswen was raised in a desert... if you could call it a childhood.
She drew her cloak closer, reminded of how cold it actually was.
“Don’t we have any contacts up here?”
Gudrik nodded, “Ordrin knows everyone who’s anyone. Ask for Sigrdrifa in the tavern. If the gods of luck are with us, she’s still here.”
She nodded, though she could hear her sword hiss in the annals of her mind.
I smell the wicked. You should bring my blade into their hearts so they can repent for their misdeeds.
She looked at the rest of her group as she refused her sword’s suggestion. They weren’t here for that. They were here for other reasons. Hopefully she could keep the impulses at bay as her party members conversed before they headed off to the tavern.
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"Sigrdrifa at the tavern, yes? That will be quite helpful. Thank you very much, Gudrik. And you as well for thinking to ask about it...um...Rhoshen, was it? I'm sorry, I'm not very good with names." She winced. She really would need to work on that.
Entyrea wasn't often intimidated by new situations. Her coddled upbringing, combined with the traveling she'd done since as a wizard, had led to her being relatively open to jumping headfirst into places she'd never been. But here--working with a group, something she hadn't often done, in a hostile territory where she had no footing and, apparently, knew nothing about how the cities and governments organized themselves--she found herself...wary.
She scampered up behind the half-Orc, tapping her on the shoulder before she could cover too much ground for Entyrea to comfortable catch up. "Your name was...Dular, yes? I am, as discussed, quite open to doing the talking inside, and do think it's likely the best idea for me to do so. However," she stressed the last word heavily, "I'm not a fool, and though I am capable in terms of self defense--" a spark of fire danced on her offhand--"I don't want to be doing the talking without some kind of assurance that I won't be slapped upside the head with a mace when I turn my back. Would you mind--for the duration of our time in Auonar, at least--staying near me and, well, making sure that people don't..."
She paused for a moment, plucking at her silk dress and fine cloak and waving a hand at the large jewel on her staff, "...take an unfortunate opportunity?"
Dular seemed amiable enough. She hoped there would be no offense taken for Entyrea essentially asking for her to be a bodyguard for the duration of their stay. It did seem a touch rude, but Entyrea was sick to death of constantly having to watch her back because people's eyes went starry at her changepurse. It would be quite a welcome change for someone else to watch it so she wouldn't need to risk being robbed blind and/or murdered in the street because she wasn't hiding her wealth.
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"Nobody'll rob you if you don't have anything worth taking." Chip mused aloud as he beat the snow out of his dirty cloak. A mangy, old thing, cut from polar bear fur and sewn onto patchwork leathers. The only thing on his person worth snatching was the coin purse tucked into his belt, but that rarely saw the light of day-- too buried in furs to ever attract any attention. It was stupid to walk around in a place so wretchedly poor as this all wrapped up in silks and wearing gold on your fingers. Even somebody as big as Dular couldn't protect Entyrea from the truly desperate.
And anybody cursed to live in this frozen hellscape was desperate from the start.
"Thanks for the help, Mister Temfarrow! We'll see ya soon enough. Off to the tavern, then." He waved goodbye over his shoulder, trudging along in the direction of the tavern. Dular was more or less leading the way, since she'd traveled these streets before, but Chip was getting a feel for the town already: its streets and alleys were not unlike the game trails and world roads he'd spent so much of his life following. If the pattern of fresh prints on the ground were any indication, most folks tended to go in this direction...and their feet tended to drag more snow than others going elsewhere. Better a clue than nothing, he supposed.
And anybody cursed to live in this frozen hellscape was desperate from the start.
"Thanks for the help, Mister Temfarrow! We'll see ya soon enough. Off to the tavern, then." He waved goodbye over his shoulder, trudging along in the direction of the tavern. Dular was more or less leading the way, since she'd traveled these streets before, but Chip was getting a feel for the town already: its streets and alleys were not unlike the game trails and world roads he'd spent so much of his life following. If the pattern of fresh prints on the ground were any indication, most folks tended to go in this direction...and their feet tended to drag more snow than others going elsewhere. Better a clue than nothing, he supposed.
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Location: The City of Auonar, Sókngarðr, The Frostlands
Humans never did get elven names right.
“Rhoswen.” She corrected her as she moved to the half-orc and started nervously asking for her protection due to her deciding to travel like she was the Queen of all Duonia. The half-elf crossed her arms as the party continued forward in the direction of the town’s center.
The halfling spoke, disparaging Entyrea about the way she dressed and presented herself. If she didn’t want to be robbed then she shouldn’t appear to be someone who should be robbed. It made sense. Bandits and bandit-like people looked for people who looked important and walked important and the group wizard fit that mold exactly. Being near a noble and an orc made Rhoswen feel a certain way. It reminded her of her childhood in the pits. Of the wizard who had bought her, expecting to devour her every night for the rest of her life. Her fingers tightened around her arms at the thought. She was happy Kyrios had found her, offered her a chance as being more than a plaything.
The wizard smells of arrogance and cowardice. She annoys me.
She heard the whisper of her weapon in the annals of her brain. She dismissed it again, preferring not to respond in kind.
Yankee God of Typos
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0-24 hrs ago
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Ah, and one of the half-elven women speaks. Dular smiled to herself, thinking that the last few of them were finally shaking off the cold and silent carriage ride. A touch on the half-orc's shoulder had Dular looking down in surprise, slowing her stride when she found Entyrea's face looking back up at her.
"Yes, Dular," she confirmed before listening to the request that followed. Basically, the scholar was nervous about would-be thieves and muggers. Dular's eyes moved away from Entyrea's clean, intricate clothing to the few citizens around then, some eyeing the group with curiosity and some, jealousy - likely those gazes were aimed at Entyrea, and what she might be concerned about.
"Chip have a point," she laughed. The sound wasn't mocking at all, it was light in the way that friends pushed each other around. She laid a hand on Entyrea's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I am glad you have trust enough to ask this of me," the cleric said. Truly it bode well for their mission if the members - just recently met and still strangers by most accounts - could rely on each other from the get go. "You know that I am a healer, yes? I am strong too, but think some of others have more fighting experience than me..." Dular actually looked a little a embarrassed as she said that, a dull pink color coming to her gray cheeks. An orc with little combat experience? Who'd ever heard of that?
"But, I am happy to help you. Appearance of an orc like me scare off the weakling sneakthieves." She chuckled again, clearly not offended in the slightest. Actually it could be taken as a compliment, that she appeared strong enough to be asked to guard someone. Although Dular believed what she said about weaker willed robbers to be true, she thought that Auonar had it's share of toughened, daring people as well... So she'd have to be vigilant for her new companions' sake. Dular true in a breath and beamed. "Not to worry, I will be watching your back, okay?"
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HokumPocus RATS WE'RE THE RATS WE ARE THE RATS
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3 mos ago
Ludith said nothing, content to let the more talkative members of their group determine their overall strategy. She had come to the conclusion that Entyrea's appearance would be a liability earlier, but assumed it wouldn't be an issue given their collective strength. It was an animalistic sort of mindset, in truth. Huddled together they were strong and had much blades and magic between them. Anyone who wanted to disrespect them would have to be bigger and stronger. It wasn't impossible, but it wasn't probable either, so she simply didn't worry about it.
"There are a lot of us. Too large of a risk if anyone tried to fight us as a group." The faintest smirk took shape across her face. All talk, no action. Planning was a necessary step she never shirked, but that didn't make it any less aggravating to stay cooped up in civilization as whatever creature of the night she was up against spilled more innocent blood. The mystery surrounding their mission made it bearable to pass through these calmer moments, at least.
"Our appearance," she told Dular. She gave the rest of the party a hardened look of approval. "Folks from all over. Attracts attention, but helps. Any trouble will have a hard time with us." It wasn't just gathering information she had been thinking about. Having such a variety of skillsets would be invaluable against any threat they weren't familiar with.
"There are a lot of us. Too large of a risk if anyone tried to fight us as a group." The faintest smirk took shape across her face. All talk, no action. Planning was a necessary step she never shirked, but that didn't make it any less aggravating to stay cooped up in civilization as whatever creature of the night she was up against spilled more innocent blood. The mystery surrounding their mission made it bearable to pass through these calmer moments, at least.
"Our appearance," she told Dular. She gave the rest of the party a hardened look of approval. "Folks from all over. Attracts attention, but helps. Any trouble will have a hard time with us." It wasn't just gathering information she had been thinking about. Having such a variety of skillsets would be invaluable against any threat they weren't familiar with.
Lemons Resident Of The Bargain Bin
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4 hrs ago
The corners of Entyrea's eyes crinkled up as she smiled, laughing lightly and scratching her face in embarrassment as she looked back and forth between Dular and Chip. "Ah, you're both right, it's always been foolish of me to travel like this, hasn't it? The staff helps me be taken a bit more seriously, but I really shouldn't wear this around all the time!" She gestured at her silk dress, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Dular. I appreciate it!"
With that said, she made no motion to correct her wealthy appearance, instead opting to twirl her staff dexterously in one hand with the skill clearly born of long practice before pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, shaking her hair out to settle it. She heaved in a heavy breath, and her face became more serious for a moment. "I understand not trusting people that you haven't worked with. I'll see if I can acquire something more fitting to the environs while in Auonar. But as it stands," she pulled the deep hood back a bit, enough that she could see everyone's faces and they could see hers, and beamed a huge smile straight at them, "I hope we can still get along!"
With that, she shouldered her backpack and twirled her staff once more before speeding up a bit, trotting further towards the center of Auonar, idly rolling sparks of flame between the fingers of her left hand. Her smile remained. I like them. This should be fun!. She turned, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. "Well? What are you all waiting for? Time waits for nobody, and there's a whole city of knowledge out there!" She waved at Gudrik receding into the distance as she pulled the hood back down again to conceal her face. "And thank you for the ride, Master Temfarrow!"
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