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Post by Mini on Apr 1, 2019 19:09:42 GMT -6
Nothing in this world, or any other for that matter, is quite as peaceful and serene as a coniferous forest blanketed by a fresh snowfall. The cold and the snow worked together in one of nature's greatest partnerships to quiet the world, encouraging all who resided in it to sit back, relax, and just be. When the air is crisp, the morning light is just starting to slide upwards through the sky, and glistening snowflakes flutter lazily through the air, it's almost possible to taste the magic hanging in the air.
It's even easier to taste the magic hanging in the air when it's being hurled unceremoniously through the air directly into one's open mouth.
The silence was shattered by the strangled shriek of a Lycoinu as icicles were shot straight down its open muzzle. Lycoinu were a monstrous breed of demon ice-wolves that were known to stalk the northern mountains of Travaria. Rumors had it that the beasts had descended from a terrifying time in history when Ice Walkers, four-legged beasts made of enchanted ice that were long since extinct, bred with wolves. As if the claws and fangs and sheer muscular bodies weren't enough to contend with, the Lycoinu could also shoot frozen spike-like projectiles at their prey, which could freeze just about anything on impact. On top of that, the fur was also harder and sharper than nearly all metals. If the beasts didn't rip an unprepared traveler to pieces by brute force or impale theme and freeze them solid, a single cut was usually enough to severe limb and saw clean through bone. Most travelers feared the creatures, which when fully grown could tower to heights of seven feet tall and at least two hundred pounds heavy.
Most travelers weren't Fiona Gagliardi.
The Templar from Kalyssia licked her lips as a grin spread across her flushed cheeks. The magical backlash had blown her hood off, causing her long blonde braids to slip loose and spill down her back. A star-shaped hair pin was clipped snug into place above her left ear. One gloved hand was held out in front of her with her fingers curled ever so slightly. The other hand rested easily on the hilt of her sword that rested at her hip. Her fur-lined cloak fluttered as the wind picked up, which made it all the more entertaining to watch as the Lycoinu flipped head over heels as it choked down a mouthful of ice.
"Hah! Think you'll get the drop on me, you foul little beastie?" she called out as the creature crashed into a pine tree with enough force to knock all of the snow piled into the boughs loose. Several feet of snow dropped onto the snarling Lycoinu.
Fiona pulled upwards on the hilt of her sword, her grin growing at the familiar sound of the metal singing as it was pulled free from its sheath. Runes had been carefully carved into the blade. The golden pommel had a silver star-shaped jewel set into it, which matched the hair piece Fiona wore. The silver blade glistened with an otherworldly golden glow as Fiona closed her eyes, held the sword upright, placed her free hand over the center of the blade and began to chant softly beneath her breath. Before the Lycoinu could free itself from the snow, a golden plume of light erupted from the ground beneath the snow pile. She shifted her pose so that both hands grasped the hilt of her blade tightly. As she spoke, a golden light snaked its way around her until it flowed down her arms and spread upward into her blade, where it looked as if it had ignited in righteous flames.
"In the name of the Three, I hereby claim back our lands from the darkness that has besmirched it. Begone, ye dark stain!" she shouted as she sliced her sword through the air. The burning golden light shot outwards from her blade towards the snow pile just as the Lycoinu burst free of the snow. A howl so horrific it made the hair on the back of Fiona's neck stand on end erupted from the creature as its body was swallowed up by the blinding, golden light. The glowing form of the Lycoinu seemed to float upward for a moment as it twisted and contorted inwards on itself before simply bursting into golden sparks.
The sparks fluttered slowly to the ground as the blinding light receded, leaving no trace of the Lycoinu.
Fiona breathed a deep sigh of relief as she planted her sword into the ground, leaning against it ever so slightly. It wasn't that she had been worried or anything, but banishing the Lycoinu had taken a bit more out of her than she had anticipated. As she stood in the silence of the forest glen, a thought trickled into her mind: Lycoinu didn't usually travel alone. They almost always were with a partner, or more often than not traveled in packs.
"Oh, pish posh, don't go thinking like that," she muttered to herself as she stood back upright, wiped the snow off of her sword on her pants, and resheathed her blade. "Let what happened to yer furry mate be a lesson to the rest of yah!" she said loudly, rolling her eyes at her own silliness as she set back off on her path through the woods. It wasn't as if Lycoinu could speak, and surely nobody else was around to answer her. Travaria didn't get many travelers this time of year, that was for sure.
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Apr 1, 2019 21:15:04 GMT -6
It had been a very long night. In a village nestled against the base of the Feathercrest Mountains there had been a sudden clamor around dusk. A stranger had entered the village that afternoon and just as the sun began to set a young girl had died under very suspicious circumstances. The wounds were not of a sort generally associated with an attack by a wyld creature, but of course no one in the village could possibly be secretly wyld so obviously the stranger had done it. Said stranger conveniently had no weapons that matched the wounds, so of course the stranger was wyld. Werewulf? No, everyone knew werewulves left more wounds and closer together. Jabbawocky? No, Jones, there's no such thing as jabbawockies. Who let you in here, anyway? No, the stranger must be a vampyr. Never mind that there was no telltale bite. A vampyr could drink from any wound just as easily as you or I could drink from a river or stream.
Oh yes, it had been a very long night. Idiot villagers, talk of wyld creatures, most of which didn't exist and never had but what did he know about it?
D'mytri Sylionas Nostre escaped the village up toward the mountains. The snow wasn't so deep this low, but it would become a hindrance farther up. Better to find a place to hide to shake off the pursuers. Only a fool would stay out after dark in winter. It was past winter's heart but the icy fangs still bit deep in the northern regions of the world. He'd run until the shivers had started to annoy him, then had sought a way to both cover his tracks and hole up to evade the ridiculous villagers. A branch broken under the weight of a past snowfall still had needles on it. That would do. With practiced care he began to move slowly off the trail he'd been following, brushing away his tracks with the branch. In daylight the ploy would have been idiotic. A half blind moron could see the marks the needles left on the snow. This wasn't daylight and the pursuers, while determined, were far from experienced trackers. Concealing himself behind some brush, he settled in to wait for the villagers to give up. It was miserable, necessary, and ultimately successful. New snow began to fall and even the most stalwart farm tool wielder thought longingly of home and hearth. Good riddance.
That was when the Uroika came.
Generally only found alone, two of the great hulking beasts were wandering nearby either returning to their den or drawn to investigate the noise those idiots had made. Probably both. Uroika were distantly related to bears and had many of the physical and habitual characteristics of their more mundane cousins along with a taste for wanton violence when they became enraged. They sniffed the air a bit and lumbered toward where the men had broken off their pursuit.
Please don't catch my scent please don't catch my scent please don't catch my scent
One of them turned toward him and sniffed curiously. He swore silently. One Uroika he could probably take down if he absolutely had to. Two was out of the question. He shifted very slightly and very slowly to try to make eye contact. No Nosferat had ever been stupid enough to try what he'd decided to attempt, but this was already a rather long night and he still needed to find somewhere warm to rest. The Uroika's piercing eyes found his and he whispered words in his mother tongue. Secret words, words of luring, words of lulling, words of binding. The words he spoke could barely be heard but he knew the Uroika could hear them clearly and that they were starting to creep into the creature's mind. He continued to whisper, words of invitation, words of promise, words that could soothe even the most urgent worries. The creature's eyes began to glaze over and for a moment a small smile crept onto his face. He whispered words of command, tightening the invisible hold over the creature's will. The tempo of his words slowed, calling the beast to surrender. The Uroika took a deep breath and was still.
He whispered words of thanks to the goddess for her gift and asked his Uroika to start traveling back to the den. There was nothing here worth pursuing. The Uroika turned and started shuffling onward, drawing the attention of its companion. What followed was probably some form of bestial communication. He whispered again, imploring his beast to convince its fellow to move on. That had been a mistake. The other Uroika turned, saw him, and charged. He pulled a small rod from his clothes and flicked it out, extending the weapon to its full length. It had no blade, only smooth sides tapering to a sharp point around as long as a human longsword but a fraction of the weight. It bent slightly as he brought it around and struck the creature's eye as he dodged. The pain had distracted the creature just enough that its claws found only air, and that was the opening the man had been looking for. He thrust forward, under and up, impaling the Uroika's head on his spike. He reached with his mind across the deep magical connection between him and the weapon and unleashed its energy. Lightning black as a moonless night coursed through the unearthly metal and into the creature's body, discharging a month's worth of accumulated bioelectricity into its mass. The beast went limp, the smells surrounding it indicating clearly that it had breathed its last. He had just pulled himself and his weapon out from under the body when the second beast arrived. The death throes of the first had awakened the second. Lovely. Its claws scythed through the air next to his head and would have taken his head clean off were it not for a timely stumble that sent him sprawling back. The second Uroika climbed over the body of the first in its advance as he picked himself up. His weapon was spent, his control was broken, and he was out of options.
He took a deep breath, prayed silently to the goddess to guide his steps, and waited until the beast's claws were moving toward him before darting toward it. He ducked under the blow, moved down the creature's side, and ran like an angry quadruped was chasing him, which it soon did. He'd been hoping not to have to spend his strength so foolishly, but he absolutely could not defeat the Uroika and hope to survive his wounds. At his core he felt the blood he'd consumed flow out into his limbs. Yes, his people had a lot in common with the vampyrs of human myth including the fact that Nosferat needed to drink blood to survive. They could eat human food, of course, but it wasn't as sustaining as blood from the vein by far. Nosferat could store blood consumed in excess of their immediate requirements for later use, meaning that a hunt once or twice a week would be sufficient if the prey was healthy. He'd known there would be travel to come last time he'd been able to hunt so he had taken his fill and had been draining it steadily in the time since. He'd wished he could have taken a mouthful or two from the girl who'd been attacked but it was forbidden for a Nosferat to drink from the dying and all but unforgivable to drink to the point where the donor perished. Sacred law aside, those missed mouthfuls hopefully wouldn't spell his doom as he fled at near supernatural speed from the Uroika. He ran until the blood ran dry and continued to run until he had no more strength, unwilling to chance looking back into wrathful eyes.
Fear drove him far from that wooded place. How far he couldn't say, but he knew that when his strength ebbed and his limbs gave out that the snow into which his body collapsed bore no sign of Uroika habitation. He'd left its range, at least. As consciousness fled, he took solace in that. If something killed him while he lay spent and unconscious, it wouldn't be a hellbeast shaped like a bear.
As the gentle snowfall began the long task of burying D'mytri the first rays of the sun began illuminating his resting place...and the danger that would soon find him.
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Post by Mini on Apr 3, 2019 21:35:11 GMT -6
Some time ago, the path Fiona had been following veered off to the left, but Fiona continued plodding along straight ahead. The snow had all but buried any visible signs of the mountain road. Sign posts were also few and far between. The sun was blotted out overhead by the thick, dismal looking gray blankets of clouds that were spitting snow down onto the land. The wind kept gusting up without warning, sending shivers down her back and snow down the cracks in her many layers of clothing, which in turn drew very unladylike curses from her chapped lips as frigid snow ran down her neck or back.
The trees grew thicker, as did the snow, making her progress fairly slow going. Her boots crunched loudly in the fresh powder as she zigzagged around bushes, shrubs, and strange growths of thorny looking flora. Asides from a distant bird chirp and her slightly heavy breathing, those were the only sounds she heard. The woods were eerily quiet. The woods were also much thicker than she remembered them being the last time she had traveled up north. It was almost as if nobody had ever come this way before.
... Oh dear.
"Shouldn't I have come across the next sign post by now?" she murmured aloud to herself, stopping to brush some loose strands of hair back out of her face as she spun around, looking all around her. Pine trees that were easily fifty, sixty feet high towered over her, obscuring much of the sky above. The trees were all within several feet of each other - there was definitely no sign of a path anywhere in sight. "Ach, I haven't lost the path, have I? Damn that dunderheid Petryt Kilmingro and his shoddy directions! I dinnae think any of this looked right," she growled, spinning around to kick a nearby rock that was sticking up out of the snow.
Thump!
"Eh?" Fiona exclaimed, confused by the soft, squishy feel the heel of her boot had came into contact with. Had it been a log she had kicked instead of a rock? Perplexed, she knelt down and brushed a bit of the snow away. Funny, the log had a texture to it that almost made it look like a long jacket or a cloak. She brushed a bit more snow off, wondering just how long this log was, when she came to a section of some sort of strange, moss-like growth that looked rather like hair. It was growing out of a very pale part of the bark, one that almost looked like--
"Baldruus' beard, it's a person!" Fiona gasped, instantly dropping to her knees as she frantically brushed as much snow off of the mystery man. "'Oi, can you hear me? Hello? Hey, wake up!" she shouted, gently slapping at his face. What did the Wilderness First Aide And Rescue Guide say about situations like this again? Should she move him or not? What if he had a traumatic head, neck, or spine injury? Moving him could make it worse. Ah, but if she just left him there, surely he would freeze to death! How long had he been out here? Long, if he had already been almost covered up by the snow. It was coming down fast, though, so it might not have been as long as she thought. Wait, was he even breathing? What if he was already dead? What if she was touching a corpse?!
Grimacing, she forced all morbid thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand: Save The Mystery Man From Freezing To Death! The first thing she did was gently roll him over onto his backside and check to make sure he was breathing. It was hard to tell, but she thought he was. She didn't dare risk taking her gloves off to try and check for a pulse - besides, doing so would mean pulling back at some of his clothes, and right now retaining body heat was important. She threw her backpack to the side and quickly pulled out a bundled up sleeping roll and slid it under his head, propping him up a bit. She then unclasped her cloak and draped it over his body. "Come on, wake up. Wake up!" she shouted, gently shaking him.
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Apr 4, 2019 10:01:47 GMT -6
For a time there was only blackness. Consciousness had fled before even a wish could be made that someone would find the fallen body in the snow. In the inky void there was a thump. Barely perceived but a definite disruption in the null state of exhaustion. After that there was nothing. One could almost believe that the disturbance was nothing really at all. Certainly nothing to wake over. Then there was another disturbance. A smaller one, but perceptible nonetheless. His mind started to stir, a restless thing not willing to return but inexorably tied to the body. The world around the body changed. The mind didn't register it as movement, but the character of the void changed somewhat as the body rotated in whatever space it occupied. The coldness the mind would soon perceive again was different now, wet in different places and biting in places it had been wet before. The body's head was moving, resting on something soft now.
Then the world erupted into motion.
The mind was pulled back toward the body in jarring motions, awareness returning in stages. Something was on top of him. His shoulders were being grasped by strong hands. That was the source of the motion. He could smell...it was a human shaking him. The mind drew closer to its seat within the body. This was bad. He was hungry and a human had found him. He stirred, disturbing the snow beneath him. The cloak atop him provided a very curious dichotomy in temperature as the rest of him was still surrounded by snow. His eyes squeezed shut, an instinctive reaction to the discomfort of returning to the waking world. Also the light. The sun had come up and it hurt his eyes. But mostly the other thing. Better say something so the human stopped shaking him. A greeting of some sort so they knew he wasn't brain damaged or something would be good. Always best to start with hello.
"Nnnnngh..."
Well that went well. He opened his eyes slowly, catching sight of his rescuer at last. A soft face with long blond braids. A Northerner, perhaps. The sun glinted off something in her hair. It almost looked like...
Templar. Skalte. He blinked, hoping the motion looked like a reaction to the light and not the moment of undisciplined panic it was. He was far too weak to handle a Templar. He regained control quickly. Lots of people wore the symbol of the church. It was an astonishingly common practice. Maybe he was overreacting. Never mind that most people wore it around their necks. Never mind that only stupid people and Templars wandered the mountainous forests alone. Maybe she wasn't alone. Her companions were on the way. That would be a mixed blessing but at least he wouldn't be alone and weak with someone dedicated to fighting the endless war against the wyld.
"Where..." he managed, his voice weak. He tried clearing his throat. "Where am I?"
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Post by Mini on Apr 6, 2019 21:24:19 GMT -6
Movement! That was a sure sign he was alive! At least, there was a 99% chance he was alive. Stories shared late at night when children were supposed to be asleep but instead snuck out of bed to hide under the covers and whisper of the things the adults said when they thought little ears weren't listening erupted into her mind. As if the vampyrs weren't bad enough, rumors had swirled for years all over the town she had grown up in about the frozen dead walking again. That was what happened to those who wandered the mountains without the blessing of the gods, it was said. They were cursed, forsaken, and doomed to spend an eternity wandering in anguish. Every step was said to feel like walking on a thousand nails. They were constantly starving but unable to eat anything. They existed on the brink of exhaustion but could never sleep. A terrifying existence indeed...
And one that had likely been made up to scare children into listening to their parents and not go wandering off into the Wylds all alone, she huffily told herself. Nobody had ever actually seen such a creature.
The man groaned as he struggled to rouse himself. She saw him tentatively open his eyes and immediately squeeze them shut again, wincing as he did so. Probably from the brightness of the sun and the snow. Head injuries and bright snow did not go well together - not that she would know anything about that from her own personal experiences, of course. As he groaned out an attempt at communication, she pulled her backpack closer and started rummaging around in it. From deep inside she produced a waterskin.
"Hush. It's going t' be alright. Don't try to move too much. Ah'm not sure if you've hurt yerself at all, and ah don't wanna be movin' ye around too much until ye wake up a bit more. Here, drink. Yer probably awful dehydrated," she said, giving him no choice as she flipped the cap off of her waterskin and shoved the nozzle into his mouth.
"Ah dinnae know where exactly we are, but we're not too far off from the town of Cairnbaan. We're just, erm... slightly off the beaten track," she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Templars were supposed to be beacons of shining light to those who were lost, injured, sickly, and to anyone who generally needed help. Fiona wasn't exactly a stellar example of Outstanding Interpersonal Skills. She was decidedly much more the Slice And Dice Down The Enemy type. "Mmm, perhaps it's fate that drove me off the main path. Had I kept going, surely ah wouldn't have stumbled across ye. We can follow my tracks back and find our way shortly enough, if ye think ye can walk. Well, yer going t' have t' walk eventually. I'd wager it's no more than an hour t' town once we're back on the path."
Deciding that surely he had had enough to drink and could probably properly talk by now and without waiting for any sort of confirmation from him, she pulled her waterskin free of his lips and popped the cap back on. Fiona then promptly started rummaging around in her backpack some more. "D'ye think you can sit up? Ye need to move about some if ye can. It'll help warm ye back up. Ah'm afraid I'm not well equipped for a snow rescue. A cloak and perhaps a change of gloves and socks are all ah really have on me. Ah dinnae if there's anything dry enough to start a fire with, either. Ah mean, ah can certainly start one if we need one - don't want ye turnin' blue on me, of course. Ahh, but the smoke might attract unwanted attention," she said, mostly rambling more just to fill the uncomfortable silence and to offer little bits of self assurances to her frostbitten acquaintance. "Well, if it comes to that, ah suppose we'll just have to manage as best we can."
"Aha! Here it is!" she proclaimed, pulling out what looked like a handmade wool cap. The wool had been dyed a mixture of red and pink, likely by berries, and it had a lingering sweet fragrance to it. She forcibly-yet-gently put it on over D'mytri's head, making sure to pull it down nice and snug over his ears. "They say th' body loses most of its heat straight out th' top of its head, did ye know that? There, that should help a bit. Why don't ye tell me how it is ye came to be face down in the snow? Ah'm sure it's quite a story."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Apr 8, 2019 13:21:30 GMT -6
Great goddess could this human talk. First it was admonitions not to move. He hadn't exactly been demonstrating much desire to get up just yet but apparently he was not to move. Easy enough, he supposed. He was actually warming up underneath her heavy cloak. As consciousness returned he started shifting a little bit to check for injury and frostbite. It seemed as though he was exceptionally lucky today, as no sign of either immediately suggested itself. He'd have to check in greater detail later.
His talkative rescuer then produced a waterskin and held it to his lips. He drank a little, grateful for the gesture, but started to worry when she didn't remove it right away. He didn't want to drink all her water but it was swallow or choke. Just when he thought she might accidentally drown him she removed it and kept talking. Somewhere in there had been a town name but it didn't tell him anything useful about where he was exactly.
Somewhere in the rest of her babble was an admonition to move if possible and a wool hat that was settled onto his head regardless of how he felt about it. The hat was silly but it was true that humans lost quite a bit of their heat through their heads. Nosferat didn't have this problem to that degree but there wasn't any sense mentioning that to a templar. Regarding the motion he really wished she'd make up her mind. Was he to stay still or get up? It really gave one the sense that she didn't know as much about tending the wounded as she pretended to. He decided to sit up, his muscles protesting a little but otherwise not making too much trouble. He checked his fingertips with a little dread. No frostbite, but they'd definitely been in the snow too long. Hadn't he had a pair of gloves somewhere? Of course not. He'd been planning to pick up cold weather gear in that town he'd been run out of. He rubbed his hands together, grateful for the small things in life at least.
"I ran into some trouble in a town somewhere else on the mountain. When they ran me out I encountered an Uroika, which I seem to have barely escaped from with my life. Thank you for stopping and helping me."
That reminded him: he was hungry. That would be a problem with this templar hanging around. He doubted she'd just let him take what he needed.
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Post by Mini on Apr 11, 2019 21:09:29 GMT -6
A frown of concern spread across Fiona's face as she watched D'mytri slowly yet surely maneuver his stiff, semi-frozen body up into a sitting position. A quick glance confirmed no visible signs of frostbite. However, she couldn't help but notice his almost deathly pale complexion. There was barely even a hint of blush to his face. This was more than likely due to the fact that he had been face down in the snow for a questionable amount of time... but how long exactly was it supposed to take for the blood to start rushing back through the body? What were the signs of mild frostbite and hypothermia again? The obvious ones were the blackened, shriveled up looking fingertips and other appendages - the tips of the ears and nose, for example. She didn't see any sign of that, so what was it about his looks that were nagging her?
She caught sight of the poor lad rubbing his hands together. It was a wonder his teeth weren't chattering. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Why hadn't she paid more attention in Field Rescue Studies class?? "Ach, let me have a good look at yer hands," she said. Without hesitation, she reached forward and snatched one of his bare hands in her own fur-lined gloves. "They're not blue or black, but I don't like the looks of how hoora pale they are. If ah'm rememberin' correctly, looking so pale and being so cold are the first warning signs of bad things." Mumbling softly to herself, she slowly started massaging his hand between both of her gloves.
"Hmm? What was that ye said? Did... Did ye say you were run out of town?" she exclaimed as her eyebrows furrowed together in bewilderment. "What-- wait, wait, back up! Did ye say an Uroika?!" she gasped. "Don'tcha know not to be wonderin' into their neck of the woods this time of year?! They're comin' out of the Deep Sleep and are stark-raving mad with hunger! They go after anything that moves, even a leaf blowin' 'way in the wind!" she shouted rather loudly, unaware that her voice was carrying rather far through the silent woods that surrounded them.
"Yer lucky t' be alive for a good number of reasons. Thank yer lucky stars and say a prayer to The Three, lad," she said, shaking her head at him in disbelief. "Right, then. Which town was it that ye claimed ran ye out? What in the world happened to cause that? And just where were ye headed to, and on what business? Not many be out traveling this time of year without a mighty good reason."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on May 11, 2019 19:12:49 GMT -6
The good news was that this human was probably the best possible person to have rescued him, all things considered. Her face echoed her words of concern about how pale his hands were, not showing any suspicion that it might be something other than the cold causing the pallor. Unfortunately this was another trait his people shared with the storied vampyr. If he could sneak away to eat someone he'd be able to pass far more easily. Unfortunately the only chances of escaping her ministrations involved hoping she wouldn't notice him speaking at length in a language no humans spoke while simultaneously hoping she wouldn't put together that the voice speaking into her mind belonged to the only other person within a stone's throw.
She began mumbling and starting to massage some warmth into his hands. He could barely feel her gloves against his hands but there was strength in that grasp, born of hunting wyld creatures no doubt. Skalte, was this ever a bad position to be in.
That was when she really started to notice what he'd said. Her face contorted in disbelief.
"Hmm? What was that ye said? Did... Did ye say you were run out of town?"
She gasped, catching up even more with what he'd said.
"What-- wait, wait, back up! Did ye say an Uroika?! Don'tcha know not to be wonderin' into their neck of the woods this time of year?! They're comin' out of the Deep Sleep and are stark-raving mad with hunger! They go after anything that moves, even a leaf blowin' 'way in the wind!"
Her voice seemed to echo as she practically shouted her bewilderment at his foolishness.
"Yer lucky t' be alive for a good number of reasons, she said, calming down a bit. She had no idea how true that was and he had no intention of enlightening her.
"Thank yer lucky stars and say a prayer to The Three, lad," she continued, invoking the human faith, "Right, then. Which town was it that ye claimed ran ye out? What in the world happened to cause that? And just where were ye headed to, and on what business? Not many be out traveling this time of year without a mighty good reason."
Skalte vis islanti krashera. This was the bad news. She was far too sharp, and asking too many questions. Nosferat were hardy creatures capable of surviving much of what the worlds, both the one they had come from and this new one, could throw at them but they could still die and the cold and pale skin of a hungry Nosferat was far too telling. He needed to get away from her quickly, before she started to ask the really uncomfortable questions.
"I didn't catch the town's name," he answered truthfully, "I arrived there just in time to be blamed for a young girl's murder. Because only the stranger in town could possibly be responsible."
He briefly considered including the part about them thinking he was a vampyr, but thought better of it. There wasn't a very good way to make that claim sufficiently unbelievable to avoid the mention of it giving the templar the right idea about him.
"I had little choice but to run, and that's when I encountered the Uroika so I ran even more. That's why I asked where we are earlier. I was running for my life, so I wasn't able to bring supplies or consult landmarks to orient myself."
He hoped she wouldn't notice his evasion of her other question. His purpose in coming here was not something he would dare discuss with a knight sworn to his extinction.
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Post by Mini on May 16, 2019 20:45:10 GMT -6
Fiona regarded the man sitting in the snow in front of her. She gave him a good, long, hard look that could have meant many things. As it was, she was trying very hard not to let her innermost thoughts betray themselves in her facial expressions. Templars were trained from recruitment day to keep them emotions at bay, lest they get the best of them in a dangerous situation. Emotions clouded judgments, and those with cloudy minds and heavy hearts were easily swayed, distracted, and defeated-- no, why mince words? Killed. A person bogged down with emotions wound up dead. That was one of the Eight Truths that her commanding officer had drilled into her from Day One. It also wasn't very professional to look overly excited, bored to tears, or anything else in between when faced with the many different kinds of tasks Templars faced daily. Templars were held in very high regards all across the kingdom, after all.
And so it was that Fiona Gagliardi found herself trying very hard to not make it obvious that she was wondering just how in the world someone so incredibly dumb and stupid had managed to survive this long in the world. It was quite an effort to keep from grabbing this man by the neck, shaking him firmly, and screaming at him about the dangers of 1) traveling alone 2) traveling alone in the dead of winter 3) traveling alone in the dead of winter without proper supplies 4) traveling alone in the dead of winter without proper supplies AND without a map 5) traveling alone in the dead of winter without proper supplies AND without a map to tell you where you should and shouldn't go to avoid hungry, angry Uroika!
It was a long moment before she seemed to regain her composure. She cleared her throat and forced what she hoped was a calm, reassuring smile onto her face. "Ah. I see," she simply said, nodding a bit.
She paused to fully process everything he had told her. So a young girl had been murdered in one of the villages somewhere below the mountains? While definitely a terrible story, it didn't fully concern her. She hadn't been present in the village during the claim of murder or the discovery of the body, nor was she charged with patrol in that area. Other Templars and Guardians would take care of it. While it was also a very suspicious sounding incident all around, she highly doubted that the man before her was capable of carrying out a murder of any sort. If he had, he certainly wouldn't have been confessing it to a Templar. Not unless he was truly mad or twisted, and he didn't seem to be giving off any of those vibes. Fiona prided herself on her excellent judge of character. Some of her close friends told her that this uncanny trait was one of the things that made her such an exemplary Templar.
As irrational as it seemed to sound, this man appeared to be speaking truthfully. The border towns around the mountain were highly suspicious of outsiders - she knew this from firsthand experience. Although she didn't feel the need to confirm this aloud, she could almost see the scene playing out before her - this poor sap wandering into town just in time for someone to find a dead body and blame him for it, and soon enough the whole town had grabbed pitchforks and torches because that was surely the only logical explanation there could have possibly been.
There was something about him that seemed off. It bothered her slightly, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that was nagging her. He wasn't lying, but was he telling the whole truth? Fiona pursed her lips as she pondered over this.
Something else was bothering her, too. The Lycoinu she had banished from before - it had been just as still and quiet when it had pounced out of nowhere at her the first time.
"Right, then," she said suddenly as she started gathering her things to shove back into her bag. "We shouldn't dawdle in one spot fer too long. You need to be up and moving around to get blood flowin' back to yer extremities, otherwise they're liable t' just freeze an' snap clean off. As I said earlier, we aren't terribly far from Cairnbaan, and Tabinthia isn't much farther up the road from there. Ah can see you safely along to either or. Well, actually, it's probably smartest t' head straight to Cairnbaan - not much there, of course, but it's better than freezing t' death out in the middle of the woods. There's warm food an' good beds - note ah didn't say good food an' warm beds - and really, what more does any traveler need? C'mon, let's walk and talk, shall we? Here, can ye stand on yer own?" While she had been speaking, she had finished packing up her back and had stood up, brushing the snow off of herself. Flashing a sincere smile down at him this time, she offered him her hand.
"Ach, it just occurred to me! With all that talk of runnin' from stark ravin' mad men and beasts, ah never did introduce myself. The name's Fiona. Fiona Gagliardi, High Templar of the First Class of Kalyssia, if ye be wantin' mah full title, though ah honestly don't know what ye'd do with it, yet we are s'posed to give it out. Silly, if ye ask me, but then again, ah didn't have any hand in makin' the rules. Just Fiona is fine by me. Don't s'pose ye have a name, do ye?"
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Post by Nitari Windrider on May 20, 2019 0:34:31 GMT -6
Stupid stupid stupid. How had it all gone so poorly? His proverbial cards were played, his lies told. All that remained was to see if the wool had been pulled over the templar's eyes. It was among the most tense moments of his life thus far. If he'd had even a little blood to work with he'd feel less like his head was hers for the taking. Without any indication whatsoever of what she was thinking the few moments in which she ruminated felt like they took all night. Waiting for the Uroika hadn't taken as long as this was taking. He could feel each second hammering away at him. It would have been enough to break the resolve of an ordinary man. Fortunately D'Mytri was anything but ordinary even despite his presently weakened state.
"Right, then," she suddenly said, beginning to pack her things, "We shouldn't dawdle in one spot fer too long. You need to be up and moving around to get blood flowin' back to yer extremities, otherwise they're liable t' just freeze an snap clean off."
A lovely thought, but a practical one. It would take him longer to get frostbitten out here than it would take her, of course, but she was right that movement was definitely the best idea here. If they started tromping through the snow maybe he could try something. Of course, she'd probably notice it if he made an attempt to infiltrate her mind. The human church had learned long ago that the goddess had given her children the power to subvert the will of any thinking creature, and had worked tirelessly to arm their warriors with defenses against such intrusions. The Nosferat in turn had been forced to become craftier still, even more silent and dangerous than they had ever been. Life in the shadows had changed the Lady's Chosen, not necessarily for the better but that was another matter entirely. D'Mytri was theoretically capable of sneaking in during a moment of distraction, while she was focused on something else, but it would have to be a very serious distraction and he would have to be very lucky indeed. Not worth chancing it unless he could be sure. One could almost pray for one of the mountain's horrific spawn just now, maybe more than one to provide ample distraction. Right, she was still talking.
"Here, can ye stand on yer own?"
She'd said other things before that while packing her bag and had stood up and offered her hand down to him with a sincere smile. He was sure she'd mentioned a couple town names but honestly he had other concerns at the moment.
"Ach, it just occurred to me! With all that talk of runnin' from stark ravin' mad men and beasts, ah never did introduce myself. The name's Fiona. Fiona Gagliardi, High Templar of the First Class of Kalyssia, if ye be wantin' mah full title, though ah honestly don't know what ye'd do with it."
Indeed. At least they'd managed to keep that much secret. Not that Nosferat and Templars ever really got a chance to sit down and compare notes. High Templar of the First Class of Kalyssia, eh? This Fiona was definitely no ordinary templar, then. He'd heard of the First Class of Kalyssia before, and the rumors he could recall did not fill him with confidence in the current situation. He hadn't heard of her by name, of course, but a High Templar was no simple obstacle.
"Just Fiona is fine by me. Don't s'pose ye have a name, do ye?"
He took her hand and stood with her help, starting to move his legs and arms a bit more to get the stiffness out. Still sound, still moving properly. He had definitely gotten rather cold, but moving around was helpful even for a thirsty Nosferat. He brushed his clothes off, clearing what snow he could as she asked for his name in return. The gesture gave him a moment to consider what he would tell her. How much could she have heard about him? What name did he dare use? Did he even dare lie to a High Templar?
"Dmitri," he replied, giving his name with rather more human accents than was strictly correct, "Dmitri Noster."
It would bother him to hear his name mispronounced, but as he well knew names held power. Nothing so dramatic as human wyld tales claimed, but power nonetheless. With her name and title he had learned that she too had come to this mountain for some purpose and that she too had some reason to walk where only the very brave and very foolish dared tread at a time when reasonable people would be at home near a fire. This was useful information. For now there was only one thing to do.
"I think getting indoors is an excellent idea. Hopefully somewhere that won't run me out of town immediately."
He did his best to appear as pathetic as possible as he gathered himself up. Not really a whole lot of effort required on that score. He was in a state that would have made people whisper back home, and if he wasn't careful he still could end up as a cautionary tale. Can't be too prepared, they'll say. Never know when a human Templar will come along to burn you inside out with the fires of their gods. D'Mytri had never been completely sure that it worked that way, but in all honesty dead was dead so it hardly mattered. Yes, they would go to the nearest human town, she would present him as someone she'd saved from frostbite and worse and he would be able to rest and recover. Once it was safe, he could leave the town and go back to the reason why he'd come here in the first place. Perhaps with a little detour for a proper meal if fortune favored him.
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Post by Mini on May 21, 2019 20:57:44 GMT -6
It happened faster than the blink of an eye. So subtle, so minute had the notions been that she had nearly missed them happening. Fiona had asked an innocent enough question - a name by which she could call her new, frozen acquaintance. She hadn't expected anything peculiar to come of the question, but there they were: The Signs. The slight twitch of an eyebrow. The fraction of a second's pause it took for him to answer her. The careful way he seemed to avoid looking directly into her eyes... directly into a Templar's eyes. Her lips pursed together slightly as she watched him closely now, bumbling around in the snow.
Maybe it was nothing. The lad was still half frozen, after all. He may have just been preoccupied with doing things like stretching out his numb toes inside of his soaking wet boots. Maybe he had hurt himself more than he was letting on when he had collapsed in the snow. Maybe the effort of standing was taking nearly all of his energy. Maybe his dimwitted brain was still thawing out and it was taking a bit longer than normal to process information. That truly seemed the most obvious of answers.
Or maybe not. Maybe he was hiding something. Maybe Dmitri wasn't his real name at all. Maybe it was just the first name that had popped into his mind. Maybe he was wanted for some petty crime and had run off into the Wylds, looking to escape, when he had run straight into trouble in a border town. Maybe he was in some kind of trouble. Maybe he was caught up in an illicit gambling ring and owed a great deal of money to a gang of men who were now stalking him relentlessly to get their money back or rob him of his life for their repayment. Or maybe...
Fiona sighed, shaking her head to herself. Her tendency to assume the worst of people combined with her wild imagination hadn't made her very many friends in life. Maybe doesn't mean yes, but maybe certainly doesn't mean no, either. Looking at him standing there with droplets of snow melt running down from his hair and shuddering a bit as he did his best to dust the rest of the snow and ice off of himself made her reassess his potentially wicked nature. This lad was surely naught but some wee lamb lost in the frozen tundra. She tutted at him, reaching over to help him adjust the blanket she had thrown across him earlier to rest across his shoulders.
"Dmitri, is it? Good strong name, Dmitri is," she said, nodding approvingly as if Dmitri had had some hand in choosing his own name. "Dmitri Noster... interesting surname," she mused aloud as she pulled her hood back into place, tucking her braids neatly back inside and out of the way. "Not one ye hear around these parts," she said carefully, glancing at him sideways to watch for a reaction.
His surprisingly witty remark about wishing to not be run out of town the moment he set foot there caused Fiona to bite back what sounded like a snort of laughter. She cleared her throat and attempted to play it off as if nothing had happened. "Aye, aye, Cairnbaan will do no such thing. S' too much energy for those teuchters t' be bothered with," she responded, flashing him a hint of an almost playful looking grin as she took a few steps forward.
"C'mon, dinnae dawdle. A clean shirt'll do ye at this rate. Let's get a move on, then!"
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Post by Nitari Windrider on May 24, 2019 12:21:43 GMT -6
Her lips pursed. It was a tense moment as she looked at him, seeing too much, eyes fixed on his and boring into him. He could almost see her hand preparing to draw her weapon and strike him down. He knew that without blood he'd put up no more resistance to her swing than a tree branch, but the nearest living thing that wasn't her was miles away and she wasn't at all likely to make a donation to give him a sporting chance.
Just that quickly, though, it was gone. Her doubts dismissed, his image in her eyes that of a helpless and stupid traveler in need of shepherding. Crisis averted. Great goddess he needed a drink. She adjusted the blanket over his shoulders, pulling it into a more helpful position.
"Dmitri, is it? Good strong name, Dmitri is."
He wasn't about to correct her, obviously, but he already never wanted to hear her butchering his name again. She nodded approvingly, accepting the half truth.
"Dmitri Noster... interesting surname. Not one ye hear around these parts."
She tucked her braids back into her hood as she paused, sizing him up. He was about to respond when His remark about not wanting to be run out of town landed, eliciting a short from the templar. She cleared her throat and responded evenly.
"Aye, aye, Cairnbaan will do no such thing. S' too much energy for those teuchters t' be bothered with."
She left him to ponder what a teuchter might be, focused on her goal. From context he could imagine that it wasn't terribly flattering.
"C'mon, dinnae dawdle. A clean shirt'll do ye at this rate. Let's get a move on, then!"
While he would never know what the state of his clothes had to do with anything at all, and while he'd acknowledge that a clean shirt would be nice, he agreed that it was time to get moving. He walked along behind her, following her lead toward a town full of people he'd need to quietly escape from in order to get back to the errand that had brought him here in the first place.
"Thank you, by the way," he said after they'd gotten moving, "For saving me, I mean."
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Post by Mini on May 26, 2019 21:38:24 GMT -6
Dmitri Noster was a man of very few words, Fiona noted. It didn't occur to her that one reason for this may have been due to the fact that Fiona herself was a woman of very many words. An avalanche of them at the best of times, and a torrential downpour in the middle of the rainy season at other times. Awkward silences were not her friend and so she made it a point to avoid them whenever possible. In her current line of work, this was usually a fairly easy thing to do. Templars were well respected throughout the land. Most everyone was more than happy to give a polite greeting, offer a short prayer for safety and protection against The Wylds, to a passing Templar. Imagine their delighted shock when one took time out of their busy schedule to chat a while and actually seem interested in their poor, pathetically boring lives - or at least, she was capable of feigning what passed for interest. From reports about a new farming innovation to news that the McPherson's dog had a healthy batch of eleven puppies last week and weren't they just the most adorable things you'd ever set eyes on, Fiona was very good at making sure she could fight back an Uncomfortable Silence just as she could fight back a rogue Boghoblin or raging Globbit. Nine times out of ten, of course, Fiona would much rather be up to her necks in the slimy entrails of a whole herd of oozing Globbits than forced to make small talk.
Regardless of this ability, that still didn't change the fact that Fiona was asking fairly innocent questions and not getting much information out of Dmitri. This made her grow ever so slightly suspicious of him as the two of them started off towards the south. She hadn't yet consulted her map, as she had a fairly good idea of where she had wandered away from the "road" at, and for now it was easy enough to simply follow her own footprints back the way she had come before she had stumbled upon her new companion's cold body. Dmitri had yet to supply her with a reason for being up in the mountains this time of year, nor had he given her any more background information as to his unusual surname. She paused for a moment, briefly replaying her chatter back in her mind.
Oh. Never mind. She hadn't actually asked him anything about that, but had instead just remarked upon its distinctiveness.
They had taken enough steps that Fiona had already come up with at least six reasons not to trust Dmitri farther than she could throw him due to nothing other than his silent nature and seven more where she was waging a war against herself pointing out why it was perfectly alright for a man who was still half-frozen to death who had nearly been mauled by both an angry mob and hangry Uroika to keep to himself when her companion surprised her by suddenly speaking up out of nowhere. She paused, turning around to look at him. His genuinely heartfelt expression of gratitude for saving him made her heart melt. It also added at least three more reasons to the "Fiona, you're being completely irrational to think that this man is in any way shape or form dangerous" column.
"You're welcome," Fiona simply replied with a soft smile. For once, she found herself at a loss for a plethora of words to come spilling out of her mouth.
The moment quickly passed.
As they plodded on through the snow, Fiona filled most of the silent gaps with everything from educationa; tidbits about this plant and that shrub along with general wilderness survival tips to which dishes to avoid completely should he find himself at the counter of Big John's Potluck Pit. After some time of following her old footprints, she paused once to pull a very carefully folded piece of parchment paper out of one of her pockets. At first glance, it appeared to be some sort of topographical map. If D'Mytri was paying attention and had a general geographical understanding of the mountains, though, he would notice that there were some things that didn't seem to quite match up to the lay of the land. Roads that had no right existing, for example, had been sketched in place, some of which seemed to plow straight through treacherous and impassible sections of the mountain. Fiona's map had several things circled with hastily scrawled notes scattered here and there. Most of the notes appeared to be in some sort of shorthand or secret code.
"A-HA, now we're in business!" she suddenly proclaimed, double-checking something on her map with the clearing they had just come to. To their left was a large tree that appeared to be growing out of the middle of a split open boulder. "That there is none other than Ainsleigh's Rock. There's some long legend 'bout how it came t' be, but ah'm afraid Ah jist can't seem t' recall it off th' top o' me head. It may 'ave involved some men, some drinks, an' a wee dobber bettin' nonsense," she mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she tried to call the full story. Shrugging, she refolded her map and stuffed it back into her pocket. "In any case, this be the best landmarker on th' trail, especially this time 'o year when the trail is a bit... buried by a good foot o' snow, as it were," she pointed out with a chuckle. "Not that you would know anythin' about all that snow, o' course." She grinned at him. "But it's good fer us, because it means tha' we're perhaps fifteen, twenty more minutes away from town. Ye..."
Her voice trailed off as she suddenly stared him down. It was an incredibly intense look as their eyes locked together. She took a step closer to him, suddenly just inches away from him. "Blimey, Dmitri, ye look awful. When's th' last time ye ate somethin', eh?" In a heartbeat, she had crouched down in the snow and was digging around in her pack once again. "Ach, ah don't have much, as ah was plannin' on stoppin' farther along th' way for th' night and t' resupply, but... ah, here we are! It's not much, ah'm afraid, an' it might be a wee bit stale, but here, eat this," she said, shoving a biscuit that felt a bit more like a rock than a pastry into his hands. "Not much farther now, eh? Think you can make it?" An odd thought suddenly occurred to her, and she voiced it without the slightest bit of tact. "Erm... ye do have money and such to pay fer food an' a bed, right?"
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Jun 21, 2019 0:23:22 GMT -6
Whatever suspicions the Templar had about him had clearly been allayed somewhat by an expression of gratitude. Apparently the monsters humans warned their children about weren't terribly polite creatures. She smiled softly and for a moment she seemed to be speechless. It gave him a pretty reasonable span to breathe a little easier and try to gather his thoughts.
It of course, was a moment only.
Some of what she said as they continued walking was actually useful, such as the times she'd point out a plant and talk about the way it grew or the uses it could be put to or the times she'd think of something seemingly unrelated to everything else and spout off new wilderness survival knowledge. While he wouldn't say she broadened his horizons by a considerable amount, her perspective made her a very interesting traveling companion. Then there were the bits regarding some eatery somewhere that apparently made food he could only conclude was gently toxic to humans but somehow appealed to them anyway. Sometimes he marveled at how his people had learned anything about them at all.
It was at this point that things became interesting. The templar paused and pulled out a map, unfolding it and consulting it carefully. She was making no particular attempt to hide it so he consulted it unobtrusively along with her. It took him a moment to orient himself and adjust to human mapmaking styles but even so something about this map seemed odd. If he was reading this map correctly there was a road that ran directly through the mountain and several more that probably weren't safe to travel any time of the year. Not that he knew much about the terrain in this exact area of the world but something was wrong with this map for sure. Unless the templar was an absolute idiot and had stumbled upon him by the most random chance imaginable the map was not meant for regular orienteering, so what was it meant to locate? More and more interesting. There were bits circled and marks made that seemed to resemble a code of some sort. He'd need to steal it and spend days poring over it in order to even hope to make any sense of them. That said, there was no need to encode notes written on a map unless that map led somewhere one did not want just anyone to go. Could it be this simple?
"A-HA, now we're in business!" Fiona exclaimed. He assumed it was a human expression and that it meant they were moving in the correct direction. "That there is none other than Ainsleigh's Rock. There's some long legend 'bout how it came t' be, but ah'm afraid Ah jist can't seem t' recall it off th' top o' me head." Oh what a shame, he'd have to find that long story on his own time. Maybe if he was having trouble sleeping.
He had one last look at the map before it was folded and put away, just in case some detail on there stood out later on. He had an inkling as to what he'd need to do next, but more information tended to be better all things considered.
"In any case," she continued, "This be the best landmarker on th' trail, especially this time 'o year when the trail is a bit... buried by a good foot o' snow, as it were. Not that you would know anythin' about all that snow, o' course."
She chuckled, trying to make light of how they'd met probably to break tension or lift his spirits or something. She had been commenting on how far they probably were from town when she suddenly trailed off and fixed him with an intense look. Had he given her some signal he was unaware of? Maybe she'd just now figured out something she'd suspected earlier? She took a step closer, close enough now to smell his breath. Or stab him. Or any number of things he'd rather she not do just now.
"Blimey, Dmitri," she said finally, "Ye look awful. When's th' last time ye ate somethin', eh?"
Flattery aside, he wasn't about to dispute that he hadn't eaten lately and that he could benefit from any spare food she might have. What she extracted from her pack didn't really remind him of food in any sort of sense, but as she had mumbled she'd been planning on getting supplies along her route and the bit of bread was indeed "a wee bit stale." Where she was from "a wee bit" must mean "unbelievably," because this was more akin to a weapon than a comestible. Part of him was considering testing that hypothesis by using it to bludgeon her into unconsciousness so he could slip into her mind as she woke. He knew it was a terrible idea but still.
"Not much farther now, eh? Think you can make it?"
He nodded.
"Erm... ye do have money and such to pay fer food an' a bed, right?"
It was his turn to chuckle. He'd been doing a reasonable job at looking pathetic, then. She'd mistaken him for someone who'd be on a mountain during the cold seasons without any resources whatsoever.
"I also was planning to stop and resupply for the night before my plans changed suddenly. I can pay."
He tried to take a bite out of the incredibly stale bit of bread. It was a struggle, more than it ever should have been, but he managed to get a piece detached and started trying to chew it. Eating this biscuit might very well cost more energy in the process than it would grant, but any amount of energy added to the system would help at this point. Besides, watching him try to eat would ease her suspicions and that was worth it regardless of the long term energy implications. In less than an hour he could get some real sustenance and finally he could start his mission for real. He'd take the liberty of leaving this interlude out of his retelling, he imagined. No need to talk about how to make the acquaintance of a templar and keep your head attached. Let them wonder. Made for a better story anyway. First things first, however...
"I'll admit, a bed is sounding rather good right now. Does this place we're going have a decent inn?"
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Post by Mini on Jul 30, 2019 21:15:01 GMT -6
Fiona was busy stuffing what looked like at least half of her worldly possessions back into traveling bag when her unlikely traveling companion asked a question. This caused her to pause what she was doing for several reasons, but the most important one was that he had actually managed to put more than six words together. Six intelligent sounding words, too! It turned out that he did have money and had been planning to stock up for his trip before trouble had come his way. It very much surprised her that he wasn't going to take up her unspoken offer to use church funds to house him and get him a good meal. Many men would jump at an offer for anything free no matter what the free thing even was.
She also had noticed him biting into the biscuit and making efforts to chew it. It wasn't the freshest of pastries, sure, but seeing this simple action put her uneasy thoughts a bit closer to being fully at rest. Vampyres survived on blood and blood alone. Many argued about whether or not a vampyr could eat 'human food' at all. Some argued that their bodies weren't able to process regular food. Attempting to consume anything that wasn't blood rendered the food to turn to ash in their mouths and infected the vampyr with symptoms similar to a stomach virus. Others argued that a vampyr could pretend to eat regular food and that many of them often did so as a ruse in an effort to blend in and sneak past unawares. The only thing people seemed to agree on was that a vampyr could not sustain themselves on regular food and, although the period of time one could go without drinking blood was a fuzzy area, would at some point need to consume a large amount of blood in order to go on existing. That D'mytri was at least attempting to eat the biscuit won him several points in both the category of "Maybe Not A Blood Sucking Leech" and "Probably Not A Monster That Needs Killed In The Next Hour." Not making a face, gagging, or hurling right on the spot even won him some bonus points in the "Taste Buds Of Steel" category.
Here she was thinking she had him pegged as a few absolute certainties (and had stuck several other mental pegs in other suspicious columns in what was her inner flow chart to the Good, the Bad, and the Everything In Between), so it colored her surprised to hear that he had indeed been not only listening and paying attention when she talked, but had also been making plans of his own.
Well... did asking about an inn to get some much needed sleep after spending a night unconscious buried in the snow really pass for elaborate planning?
Grinning a bit, Fiona finished shoving what looked like the end of a candelabra back into the side of her bag, then threw herself on top of it to hold everything down long enough for her to fasten and secure the belts, straps, and buttons back into place. "Aye, that there is. S'not the most elaborate and cozy of places, but there are definitely one or two decent sorts of places ah kin recommend. When we enter Cairnbaan, ye kin look right t' yer left an' see a big ol' building tha' looks like it were made t' be millin' wheat. Maybe that's what it did moons and moons ago, 'fer there ain't been any wheat growin' in these parts fer, gosh, ah couldn't even guess when. Anywho, someone at some point in time redid the inside an' it's a pretty cozy lil bed an' breakfast. Ah think it's called Th' Mossy Log? Th' Mossy Rock? Th' Mossy... somethin' ye might find in the woods, aye?" she said, shrugging as she swung her backpack back into its proper place. With a gesture to D'mytri to follow her, she started walking and talking once more.
"At any rate, that'll do ye if ye get yerself into a bind. It's cheap, not th' most comfortable o' places, but it's safe. A nicer, cozier, an' just as safe an' quiet place is down th' main road a ways, back around the town square an' off an' alley. It's a big green house that looks more like a cottage. There'll be a faded sign out front that reads 'Teague's.' It's a tavern in the bottom an' beds in the top two floors. The crowd looks a wee bit gruff, but they wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, unless that fly lands in their ale. Then there'll be trouble," she laughed.
"If ah find myself passin' through Cairnbaan, that's usually where ah like t' stay. Ah may find meself back there in a few days, actually. Depends on how things go," Fiona mentioned casually. "If ye decide t' stay there, see if Cassidy is workin' there. She'll treat ye right, and if ye mention me, ye may even save a coin or two."
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