He knew her. Perhaps not as well as Zylsys. Certainly not as well as her own sister even in spite of the age gap and any more personal secrets lingering in the background. But he heard the rumors and gossip the same as most folk in Heldren. Even kept an eye out on the situation with the family; though, only rarely as time refused to be a proper friend. Thus, he waited and watched from the corner of his eyes for the inevitable answer. As a trace hint of a small grin begin working its way to the surface, he focus back on Rynle following:
She stares back at him, arms crossed and raises a pointed eyebrow. She'll be damned if she's going to continue to put up with being treated like an enemy to someone she's never shared more than ten words with. "Yes? Did you want something? In case you were never taught you better, it's rude to stare."
Rathakk blinks owlishly, starts to glare at her for a second, and then double blinks before looking up at the ceiling with brows furrowed, seeming to genuinely consider the statement at length. Now that he thought about it, Heldrens tended to be... Noone ever called him out for the stare. Except maybe Zylsys. Once. The dwarves too, now that he thought about it. But they were surprisingly less direct about it, and after discovering his fascination with the craft less concerned about it.
Truth be told, he could almost swear having heard the phrase before, but never having it spoken to him. Heldren folk were... Surely someone one of the older inhabitants would've told him off for as much to if this was a genuine truth. Biting his lip again, Rathakk forcefully pulled himself back from introspection to regard Rynle using the same old placid look. "I... apologize. No dis...Disrespect meant." He squeezes his eyes shut after having spoken the last word. But after taking another moment to gather himself, he goes on to say, "You. Not from here. Rumored... nn-noble born? I sought... further... c-co-connnfirmation of... guard's story." He pauses on a tight note to again give her an expectant look. But upon spying the first hint of ongoing confusion, he looks to Aki with an almost pleading look.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Aki tightens her fists, feels the flames bubble and boil inside of her.
This was twice now that her attempts to look out for someone were responded with bitterness. Twice too many, she thinks to herself. Granted, they were concealed with a thin insult, sounding more like orders than advice. And granted, she didn't really care about their well-being. She had better things to worry about than some stranger succumbing to their wounds to a fight that never should've happened.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She opens her mouth, about to spit back another insult. Not everyone appreciated her nicknames, true. But they were accurate, and not wholly degrading. Stain-scrubber might've stung a little more than she would've liked, but that's what she did every morning and night when Aki came in. She was scrubbing stains!
And how dare she insult Heldren. It was the kindest, most welcome place she's ever known. Even during its worst days.
As she's about to lash back with her tongue, however, Rathakk's pleading stare stops her short. She watches him struggle, being far from the first time the half-orc had trouble with words. Aki exhales sharply and rubs her face, then swallows the anger for another time. "Rathakk is far from the best with Common," she says. "He is smart. Wise beyond his years. You wouldn't know it from his communication, though."
She looks up and down Rathakk. "He has also taken staring as an occupation, but out of curiosity and not malice. I'd go easy on him. Rynle." Her eyes flash with the briefest amount of flame, but it fades.
Zylsys, your spell closes some of his still open wounds, and you see some color return to his cheeks, but it would appear that the damage is far beyond what a simple healing spell can fix. Natharen looks up at you for a moment, and then looks down at the man again without a word.
"We'll have surprise on our side, and we don't have to take on the whole camp to rescue a captive. Did you perchance see which way they went with the Lady Melassene?"
“All I saw is that they went further into the Wood. I was, alas, unable to follow after them.”
The man turns to the other three of you and coughs, though it is hard to tell if it is because of his injuries or because he was trying to get your attention. "The three of you. Are you truly serious about undergoing this task? Or are we doomed to wait for reinforcements from Demgazi or Zimar while you talk in the corner? And if you are serious, which of you is best with a sword?"
(OOC: I have no idea why that text isn't appearing IN the quote box...)
Zylsys looks to the group of young adventurers that has gathered. "I'll go with them as well. I'm more capable than my age would lead you to believe." Plus I need to find out what's going on with these visions I've been having, she adds to herself.
She turns to Nathander, "Don't look at me like that Nathander. I could run circles around you 20 years ago, and I still don't feel a day over 200. I just wish I still had my old longbow. My crossbow has served me well as a replacement, but it's not a fitting instrument for a Cleric of Erastil."
Aki glances toward the man, throws a scowl in his direction. "Since you did not hear me earlier, yes. Yes, I am serious," she says. "I have explored this region since I was a youngling. I know how to move without being seen, as well as how to use a bow and sword."
Countless seasons come to mind as she recalls the area around Heldren. The girl remembers when her father would take her north into the plains where the dew would cling tight to the grass, or south into the Border Wood. She remembers little of what he looked like, what he smelt like, what he sounded like.
Whenever she ventures south of the Border Wood, however, she could still feel a vague, warm presence at her back, as if he was still beside her.
At the question of swordsmanship, Aki points to herself. "That would be me," she says, then gestures to the black sheath over her shoulder. "I brandish a longsword on the daily. The length is shorter than I would like it to be. It is made of a black, dense material, however, making it more wieldy as a greatsword." She leaves out how her, a relative Heldren peasant, obtained such an exquisite piece of weaponry.
As she's about to lash back with her tongue, however, Rathakk's pleading stare stops her short. She watches him struggle, being far from the first time the half-orc had trouble with words. Aki exhales sharply and rubs her face, then swallows the anger for another time. "Rathakk is far from the best with Common," she says. "He is smart. Wise beyond his years. You wouldn't know it from his communication, though."
She looks up and down Rathakk. "He has also taken staring as an occupation, but out of curiosity and not malice. I'd go easy on him. Rynle." Her eyes flash with the briefest amount of flame, but it fades.
Rathakk flinches, but ultimately held on to the silent plea. An action he soon came to regret, judging by the crooked frown and squinted eyes that resulted from Aki's explanation. The particularly unflattering statement of his subconscious habit being an occupation earned a quiet huff and glance away from the scene. And yet, he kept shooting glances back at Aki, lips trembling and mouth sometimes motioning for the beginning of words. But, not a word leaves them before the injured mans coughing drew attention.
The man turns to the other three of you and coughs, though it is hard to tell if it is because of his injuries or because he was trying to get your attention. "The three of you. Are you truly serious about undergoing this task? Or are we doomed to wait for reinforcements from Demgazi or Zimar while you talk in the corner? And if you are serious, which of you is best with a sword?"
He too scowled alongside the fiery red-haired woman in almost complete synchronicity. Just as instinctively, the half-orc left her to voice their complaints, while he stepped forth to loom behind her. Rather this was meant to be as if to emphasis agreement on her points, or mistakenly display an intent to act as her bodyguard is hard to see past his angry mug.
"Four." He finally corrects. This time he doesn't make the same mistake of looking to Rynle least he come off as 'rude' again. "Reinforcements. Unnecessary." He intones as he leered down at the man. Granted, it was possible word was already sent out, but he tried not to think to hard about that point.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Natharen sighs. "I meant no disrespect, grandmother. This is just... more than I expected to deal with today, that's all."
The man nods at you, Aki, and says "Very well. It looks like a fine enough weapon, but it won't do you much good against the winter-touched. Now... sorry, cleric, where did you put my, er..."
"Oh!" Natharen gasps, seemingly shocked by the question. "All of your things are over there, on that pew."
As your eyes follow Natharen's finger, you see a bundle of items gathered together, sitting on top of which is a longsword in its scabbard. Its hilt is finely made, though not particularly ornate, and is a dark gray in color. "That there is cold iron. There's no finer material for slicing through the wicked cold fey. Take it with you. My father gave me that sword when I was younger, just in case I ever had need to use it against the winter-touched, and sure enough I managed to slay one or two of them yesterday before the rest overtook me. He would roll in his grave if he knew I gave it away instead of charging into battle myself, but given the circumstances..."
Zylsys nodded with understanding. A soldier without his sword is as naked as a cleric without their holy symbol. "You've done everything you could. We'll take it from here."
Reaching into her bag, Zylsys pulls out a local map she had previously drawn using her cartographer's tools. The old map was filled out with her flowing calligraphy and colored beautifully. Holding it out to the injured man, she asks "Can you point out around where the battle took place? It would be best to start our search there."
I'm assuming that she would have such a map with the tools. At the DMs discretion, I could roll to draw a map of the local area or copy a map from the temple to accomplish the same thing.
Aki traces his movements to the stash of equipment.
She approaches the bundle, a mishmash of armor, weapons, and various adventuring gear. She winces at the pinpricks in his metal armor, trying not to imagine how she'd feel in its place. Her hands reach forward, taking the weapon in her grasp. It was far from elegant, and a great deal lighter than Aki preferred. The handle felt firm and sturdy in her grip, however, and when she draws the sheath back to reveal the darkened blade, it sings to the crowd in the room.
"It's beautiful," she mutters. "A work of art. Even if it doesn't have the mass of mine."
Aki sheaths the weapon, then straps it to her right side. It would be quite a useful tool, especially if this wouldn't be the last of the 'winter-touched'. She could use it to protect her family. More specifically, her little sister. If the cold grew stronger and they were all forced to flee, it could mean the difference between life or death.
On the other hand, his father gave him that sword. It could very well be the last reminder he has of him.
"I will use it well," Aki says as she finishes strapping it on. "You have my word." The girl then looks to the others. "I have some errands to finish and a friend to contact. Meet me at Heldren's southern entrance when you are ready."
She then exits the temple and makes her way back home.
He knew her. Perhaps not as well as Zylsys. Certainly not as well as her own sister even in spite of the age gap and any more personal secrets lingering in the background. But he heard the rumors and gossip the same as most folk in Heldren. Even kept an eye out on the situation with the family; though, only rarely as time refused to be a proper friend. Thus, he waited and watched from the corner of his eyes for the inevitable answer. As a trace hint of a small grin begin working its way to the surface, he focus back on Rynle following:
Rathakk blinks owlishly, starts to glare at her for a second, and then double blinks before looking up at the ceiling with brows furrowed, seeming to genuinely consider the statement at length. Now that he thought about it, Heldrens tended to be... Noone ever called him out for the stare. Except maybe Zylsys. Once. The dwarves too, now that he thought about it. But they were surprisingly less direct about it, and after discovering his fascination with the craft less concerned about it.
Truth be told, he could almost swear having heard the phrase before, but never having it spoken to him. Heldren folk were... Surely someone one of the older inhabitants would've told him off for as much to if this was a genuine truth. Biting his lip again, Rathakk forcefully pulled himself back from introspection to regard Rynle using the same old placid look. "I... apologize. No dis...Disrespect meant." He squeezes his eyes shut after having spoken the last word. But after taking another moment to gather himself, he goes on to say, "You. Not from here. Rumored... nn-noble born? I sought... further... c-co-connnfirmation of... guard's story." He pauses on a tight note to again give her an expectant look. But upon spying the first hint of ongoing confusion, he looks to Aki with an almost pleading look.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Aki tightens her fists, feels the flames bubble and boil inside of her.
This was twice now that her attempts to look out for someone were responded with bitterness. Twice too many, she thinks to herself. Granted, they were concealed with a thin insult, sounding more like orders than advice. And granted, she didn't really care about their well-being. She had better things to worry about than some stranger succumbing to their wounds to a fight that never should've happened.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She opens her mouth, about to spit back another insult. Not everyone appreciated her nicknames, true. But they were accurate, and not wholly degrading. Stain-scrubber might've stung a little more than she would've liked, but that's what she did every morning and night when Aki came in. She was scrubbing stains!
And how dare she insult Heldren. It was the kindest, most welcome place she's ever known. Even during its worst days.
As she's about to lash back with her tongue, however, Rathakk's pleading stare stops her short. She watches him struggle, being far from the first time the half-orc had trouble with words. Aki exhales sharply and rubs her face, then swallows the anger for another time. "Rathakk is far from the best with Common," she says. "He is smart. Wise beyond his years. You wouldn't know it from his communication, though."
She looks up and down Rathakk. "He has also taken staring as an occupation, but out of curiosity and not malice. I'd go easy on him. Rynle." Her eyes flash with the briefest amount of flame, but it fades.
Zylsys, your spell closes some of his still open wounds, and you see some color return to his cheeks, but it would appear that the damage is far beyond what a simple healing spell can fix. Natharen looks up at you for a moment, and then looks down at the man again without a word.
“All I saw is that they went further into the Wood. I was, alas, unable to follow after them.”
The man turns to the other three of you and coughs, though it is hard to tell if it is because of his injuries or because he was trying to get your attention. "The three of you. Are you truly serious about undergoing this task? Or are we doomed to wait for reinforcements from Demgazi or Zimar while you talk in the corner? And if you are serious, which of you is best with a sword?"
(OOC: I have no idea why that text isn't appearing IN the quote box...)
Reign of Winter Groups A and B - DM
793.93 DUN
Zylsys looks to the group of young adventurers that has gathered. "I'll go with them as well. I'm more capable than my age would lead you to believe." Plus I need to find out what's going on with these visions I've been having, she adds to herself.
She turns to Nathander, "Don't look at me like that Nathander. I could run circles around you 20 years ago, and I still don't feel a day over 200. I just wish I still had my old longbow. My crossbow has served me well as a replacement, but it's not a fitting instrument for a Cleric of Erastil."
Aki glances toward the man, throws a scowl in his direction. "Since you did not hear me earlier, yes. Yes, I am serious," she says. "I have explored this region since I was a youngling. I know how to move without being seen, as well as how to use a bow and sword."
Countless seasons come to mind as she recalls the area around Heldren. The girl remembers when her father would take her north into the plains where the dew would cling tight to the grass, or south into the Border Wood. She remembers little of what he looked like, what he smelt like, what he sounded like.
Whenever she ventures south of the Border Wood, however, she could still feel a vague, warm presence at her back, as if he was still beside her.
At the question of swordsmanship, Aki points to herself. "That would be me," she says, then gestures to the black sheath over her shoulder. "I brandish a longsword on the daily. The length is shorter than I would like it to be. It is made of a black, dense material, however, making it more wieldy as a greatsword." She leaves out how her, a relative Heldren peasant, obtained such an exquisite piece of weaponry.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Natharen sighs. "I meant no disrespect, grandmother. This is just... more than I expected to deal with today, that's all."
The man nods at you, Aki, and says "Very well. It looks like a fine enough weapon, but it won't do you much good against the winter-touched. Now... sorry, cleric, where did you put my, er..."
"Oh!" Natharen gasps, seemingly shocked by the question. "All of your things are over there, on that pew."
As your eyes follow Natharen's finger, you see a bundle of items gathered together, sitting on top of which is a longsword in its scabbard. Its hilt is finely made, though not particularly ornate, and is a dark gray in color. "That there is cold iron. There's no finer material for slicing through the wicked cold fey. Take it with you. My father gave me that sword when I was younger, just in case I ever had need to use it against the winter-touched, and sure enough I managed to slay one or two of them yesterday before the rest overtook me. He would roll in his grave if he knew I gave it away instead of charging into battle myself, but given the circumstances..."
Reign of Winter Groups A and B - DM
793.93 DUN
Zylsys nodded with understanding. A soldier without his sword is as naked as a cleric without their holy symbol. "You've done everything you could. We'll take it from here."
Reaching into her bag, Zylsys pulls out a local map she had previously drawn using her cartographer's tools. The old map was filled out with her flowing calligraphy and colored beautifully. Holding it out to the injured man, she asks "Can you point out around where the battle took place? It would be best to start our search there."
I'm assuming that she would have such a map with the tools. At the DMs discretion, I could roll to draw a map of the local area or copy a map from the temple to accomplish the same thing.
Aki traces his movements to the stash of equipment.
She approaches the bundle, a mishmash of armor, weapons, and various adventuring gear. She winces at the pinpricks in his metal armor, trying not to imagine how she'd feel in its place. Her hands reach forward, taking the weapon in her grasp. It was far from elegant, and a great deal lighter than Aki preferred. The handle felt firm and sturdy in her grip, however, and when she draws the sheath back to reveal the darkened blade, it sings to the crowd in the room.
"It's beautiful," she mutters. "A work of art. Even if it doesn't have the mass of mine."
Aki sheaths the weapon, then straps it to her right side. It would be quite a useful tool, especially if this wouldn't be the last of the 'winter-touched'. She could use it to protect her family. More specifically, her little sister. If the cold grew stronger and they were all forced to flee, it could mean the difference between life or death.
On the other hand, his father gave him that sword. It could very well be the last reminder he has of him.
"I will use it well," Aki says as she finishes strapping it on. "You have my word." The girl then looks to the others. "I have some errands to finish and a friend to contact. Meet me at Heldren's southern entrance when you are ready."
She then exits the temple and makes her way back home.