If it appears within the bounds of politeness and within reach, asking permission with her eyes, Sabetha will pet the black cat and scratch gently behind their ears. Sabetha is clearly someone that adores animals just as Eva adores magical beings (presumably, Teb is both).
"I suspect my friends," (are they friends already, muses Sabetha) "are fast asleep at the Northlook. We've just returned from an exhausting and perilous multi-day trek out in the snow and cold. The return journey included hauling a sled laden with iron and the remains of a dwarf whose comrades tasked us with salvage. My thought is that we rest here for the night and meet them at the Northlook in the morning, bringing them here to speak with Dannika, unless there are other pressing matters. I know that a few of us, myself included, also need audience with Duvessa Shane, the speaker of Bryn Shander, each for our own reasons. But that may be easier said than done. If we do get an audience, perhaps we could put the word out about your husband."
Sabetha will be happy to continue conversation of course. But once done with that and with her stew, muscles screaming with fatigue, she hauls herself back out into the cold for an hour, just outside the inn. Moving through martial forms slowly with her new longsword, holding it in both hands. Until it becomes second nature. Finally returning and heading off to sleep, hoping that Teb will keep any potential rats within the Geldenstag's Rest at bay. She has more questions for both Eva and Myrtle, but those questions will have to wait!
Eva watches Sabetha leave, longsword in hand, and feels grateful for the half-elf’s trust.
Since Eva's chilly awakening, no one else has shown warmth to her except Myrtle. The tabaxi offered her stew and ale—the mere mention of which turned Eva's stomach—and commiserated over her wounds.
But they aren’t wounds. They are scars, long healed. What happened to me—why and when? For how long was I buried in the icy ground? And where is Alfred? For the life of her, Eva cannot piece her past together.
She hands a gold piece to Myrtle and gives the five silver in change to the beggar. It's what should be done, something reminds her: charity. But why? Why not let nature take its course? Why stave off the inevitable? She no longer understands the morals of yesterday.
Eva marvels at all that Sabetha has recounted. What a strange, inhospitable land—and what strange folk. The “endless dark” that Sabetha spoke of appeals to Eva, but not the concomitant cold. She yearns for a lightless yet comforting place to call home.
“The remains of a dwarf…” Eva fixates on these words. She wishes she had seen, touched, studied the corpse. It might have helped her comprehend what has happened to her, understand herself.
She sits back down at her empty table. She calls Ténèbre to her lap. Before long, Eva falls into a kind of stasis, staring vacantly before her. The inn's other patrons do their utmost to avoid her.
In this way—in silence, in stillness, and, if it were not for Teb, in solitude—Eva passes the remainder of the day, and the night.
It is the next morning. Aside from Eva, you all come down from your rooms to break your fast. It is clear to each of you that you all had a somewhat troubled sleep (again, aside from Eva, who is just troubled generally). You all agreed to meet at the dwarves' safehouse at daybreak today (10 or so) in order to discuss what to do next. As those of you at the Northlook Inn prepare yourself to meet and discuss your plans, an unusually tall half-elf walks into the bar, obviously searching for someone. Turning to Elk Running, his eyes light up. He walks over to her and asks, in an accent that indicates long acquaintance with the Reghed tribes, "Are you she who is called Elk Running?"
Sabetha wakes, stiff, from dreams of cold northern lights, of starving goblins in dark crystalline chains drawing a huge wagons with polar bears and mammoths and frost giants inside through a blizzard, of a knucklehead trout with devil horns speaking Infernal and spitting out a ring...
If Myrtle is downstairs, she thanks the tabaxi and decides to take a chance, asking her if she has ever heard of someone in town named Beldora.
Sabetha greets both Eva and Teb in equal measure with a smile. "I remember now that the group was to meet at the dwarven safehouse at daybreak to decide our next course of action. I hope you will come with me? We can return to meet Dannika here with them or without." She does not yet ask what she wants to ask, of the nature of Eva's 'mishap,' thinking it impolite. Though of course, nothing is going to stop the other party members from asking.
Eva and Teb follow Sabetha with their eyes as she approaches. After Sabetha speaks, they both spring to life. Eva does her best to return the smile; her scars make it difficult. "It would be an honor to accompany you. Don't you think,Teb?" Purring up a storm, Ténèbre leaps to the floor and affectionately collides into one of Sabetha's legs, as cats do.
Blackberry descends to the common room after a restless night and frightening dreams. He remembers the set gathering-time for his new friends, and prepares for the coming day. He sees the tall half-elf walk into the bar, and looks behind him, half-expecting to see a priest and a rabbi as well. (Does the newcomer speak in Common or Elvish?)
Aubin wakes drenched in sweat. He quickly looked to his hands to check if he still had all his fingers. Relief washes over him momentarily. Then he clenches his chest as if wanting to dig out his flesh. He draws blood and stops as he looks around and remembers again why he was here.
He angrily gets dressed and comes down to the common room with a grim expression.
The tall half-elf speaks in the common tongue, and Blackberry has to crane his neck to glimpse around the mountainous form.
As they move forwards, the first feature that you take in is the bulk apparent even though the figure is clad in thick furs. They stand comfortably over 6 and a half feet and have the breadth of shoulder that keeps their size well proportioned. A washed-out, blue-hued, waxed cloak, hooded with fur trim on its edges acts as a top layer to defend against the winter elements and also helps to muffle he sound of a metallic clink that now reaches your ears. Below the top layers, you can see the associated grey metal links of a full chain mail shirt. Though it seems unnecessary, the approaching figure walks using a tall staff, moving it in time with his stride, and wears a shield strapped to his backpack.
As he pulls back his hood, his white-blonde hair can be seen more clearly, worn in the fashion of the Reghed tribes. The hair from the parietal ridge of his scalp starts in tight braiding, then loosens out into long locks, tied up high at his crown into a ponytail with several of the small scrimshaw ornaments popular in Bryn Shander woven and tied in. The sides of his scalp are clean-shaven and display tribal tattoos that flow from his face to wind around his head. His beard resembles the dwarven trends, gathered up in thick braids and held in place by thin hammered steel rings towards the end of the hair.
The woad coloring of the tattoos, similar to that of the cloak, stands out clearly yet pairs well with the grayish hue of the man's rough skin and accentuates the eyes which can only be described as icy. The bright, pale blue is reminiscent of ice across the lake, and the look that the man gives is equally cold and bleak. He stops a short distance away and asks again but in a different tongue (Elvish), "Are you she who is known amongst the tribes as Elk Running?"
Myrtle is present for breakfast.“Oh! If only you had asked last night! Beldora left after you went to bed, but only after she did the dishes. She won’t take charity, which I think is odd for a beggar. Why are you looking for her? Did she earn a great inheritance from a long-forgotten relative? Or perhaps did she kill her husband after discovering he was a spy for Duergar? Is she, perchance, the long-sought queen of the mushroom kingdom? No…wait…that’s silly. She’s not a myconid.”
Sabetha can't help smacking herself on the forehead in shame.
What a fool I am. A sad excuse for a Watcher. Of course Beldora is a beggar. And I all but ignored her, seeing only the act of charity and not the person.
She looks apologetically at Eva for the delay and ruefully at Myrtle. "I... I didn't know that was her. We've never met but we... have a common acquaintance. And possibly common intere- wait what? A spy for the Duergar? Are there gray dwarves or myconids about?"
Eva, confused by her failed attempt to follow the remnants of her conscience, collects the 5 silver she had left on the bar for the beggar. "Is this Beldora a relative of yours?" she asks Sabetha.
Eva dons her filthy outerwear and prepares to face the elements. (She seems oblivious to her begrimed condition.)
Myrtle’s eyes grow wide. “Haven’t you heard? All creatures of the Underdark hate us surface dwellers and want to take us as slaves, except, of course, the myconids, who are searching for their lost queen, of whom great things have been prophesied. The Drow and the Duergar have entered into a pact to freeze us out of Icewind Dale; that’s why the Sun no longer rises. The Drow have used their magicks to weave a great web to block the sun’s rays and the Duergar act as their spies on the ground, keeping the dwarves at Kelvin’s Cairn from coming to our aid. It’s why I like meeting adventurers like yourself; you are our last line of defense against the Underdark. That’s why you’re here, right?”
Sabetha lets Myrtle's avalanche of words crash over her, bemused. She tries to think whether she's ever heard of drow and duergar allying, but then if they had, why would some lowly fugitive agent like Sabetha have heard about it? She suspects there is at least a grain or two of truth amidst the wild talk.
"Thank you,Myrtle. Information is always appreciated. I can't speak for all adventurers, but I, at least, am here to help."
Sabetha taps her finger on her lips thoughtfully for a moment, eyes distant. Focusing on the tabaxi again, she respectfully murmurs: "If and when you see Beldora again, please give her my regards and tell her that I am looking for news on our common acquaintance, Remi. I will return."
As she turns to leave, Eva's question registers. Sabetha looks as if she is going to say something more, but then visibly stops herself.
Once they are out the door and on their way, she quietly answers: "What Beldora and I share is not common bloodline but common cause."
I do like Eva and Teb. Perhaps once we have known each other longer, we can confide our secrets to each other more freely.
Aubin does understand elvish. He looks to the tall half-elf and in a weary tone he says "No Blackberry is not Elk Running. Now if you excuse me, I need some coffee." He goes to the counter "coffee or whatever you have that is a strong stimulant and some breakfast" I must see the speaker or the sheriff today. I will find my prey.
Elk Running descends the stairs after another restless night. After centuries of slumber, she does not long for sleep. Indeed, the nightmares had her eager for the next day to arrive. She nods at stranger who is obviously associated with the Reghed. "I am called so. Good meeting. What need have you of Elk Running?"
The figure inclines his head to the elf as she acknowledges her identity. He pauses a moment before responding, looking at the two others that have engaged with him ahead of Elk Running's acknowledgement. Having had more response from his enquiry in Elvish, he continues so, "I would seek words with you. May we speak privately?" As the brusque human heads over to the bar, this tall figure motions towards a quiet corner away from the other patrons.
He awaits for Elk Running to join him before continuing in a low voice, there is a sense of urgency to the words, "Being blunt, I have reason to believe you are being hunted and I doubt anyone would identify themself to a stranger if they thought someone was searching for them. I work under Sheriff Southwell and would rather avoid any incidents whilst you are within Ten Towns." He lets the information sink in, not rushing his words and watching Elk Running's face as he shares the information, continuing at a metered pace, "I do not say this to alarm you. I would inquire though what your intentions are in the Towns, and how long you expect to be in Bryn Shander? Also, whether you have any ill-relations that immediately spring to mind when I mention this?"
Elk Running follows the stranger to the corner without question. Once he speaks, she remains quiet for a time, contemplating the words. Of course she recalls the dream from last night. The timing is too uncanny to be coincidental.
“Wyrd is fate, and fate is inexorable,” Elk Running mutters darkly, in Elvish, while staring at the floor.
She raises her dark eyes to stare into the icy blue of his. “On another day I might wonder if you offer Loptr’s mead, but of late my sleep has been troubled by visits from one whom I suspect to be Auril, the Frostmaiden herself. Last night she warned me that I would be visited by one--” she considers this stranger carefully “--one thrice-killed, yet still alive, who speaks for a rival. A rival to Auril? To me? That I should strike first. That I should be the hunter, and not the prey.”
Elk Running’s hand has passed, slowly and casually, to touch the oaken quarterstaff at her hip.
“Who are you, stranger, bringer of dark tidings? Who is this hunter?”
Blackberry observes from a distance his friend talking with the newly arrived tall stranger. It seems cordial enough, but when her hand strays towards her weapon, he begins to casually stroll in their direction, ready to leap to her defense if a conflict should break out.
The icy blue eyes that Elk Running stares into crease ever so slightly at her mention her dream. "That is interesting... Do you follow the frostmaiden for her to appear to you by dream? Such portent from the gods would have shamans of the tribes in counsel for days."
As Elk Running's hand brushes his staff, so too does the bulky figure shift his stance, bringing his staff up to hold in both hands as he appears to nonchalantly lean forwards onto it. "We would all rather be the hunter than the prey, not all have the stomach for it. You though, you look like you would. Thrice-killed though, even from a god that sounds like scaremongering and bluster."A moment of mirth enters his eyes, before they resume their chill, "Or someone truly dangerous." Elk Running can read the pause, sense there is more to be said and the decision of what to speak is not one made lightly. "I am called Naraeld. Again, I would express my desire to avoid conflict within Bryn Shander. Perhaps, both our interests are served were I to accompany you on your business."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
If it appears within the bounds of politeness and within reach, asking permission with her eyes, Sabetha will pet the black cat and scratch gently behind their ears. Sabetha is clearly someone that adores animals just as Eva adores magical beings (presumably, Teb is both).
"I suspect my friends," (are they friends already, muses Sabetha) "are fast asleep at the Northlook. We've just returned from an exhausting and perilous multi-day trek out in the snow and cold. The return journey included hauling a sled laden with iron and the remains of a dwarf whose comrades tasked us with salvage. My thought is that we rest here for the night and meet them at the Northlook in the morning, bringing them here to speak with Dannika, unless there are other pressing matters. I know that a few of us, myself included, also need audience with Duvessa Shane, the speaker of Bryn Shander, each for our own reasons. But that may be easier said than done. If we do get an audience, perhaps we could put the word out about your husband."
Sabetha will be happy to continue conversation of course. But once done with that and with her stew, muscles screaming with fatigue, she hauls herself back out into the cold for an hour, just outside the inn. Moving through martial forms slowly with her new longsword, holding it in both hands. Until it becomes second nature. Finally returning and heading off to sleep, hoping that Teb will keep any potential rats within the Geldenstag's Rest at bay. She has more questions for both Eva and Myrtle, but those questions will have to wait!
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Eva watches Sabetha leave, longsword in hand, and feels grateful for the half-elf’s trust.
Since Eva's chilly awakening, no one else has shown warmth to her except Myrtle. The tabaxi offered her stew and ale—the mere mention of which turned Eva's stomach—and commiserated over her wounds.
But they aren’t wounds. They are scars, long healed. What happened to me—why and when? For how long was I buried in the icy ground? And where is Alfred? For the life of her, Eva cannot piece her past together.
She hands a gold piece to Myrtle and gives the five silver in change to the beggar. It's what should be done, something reminds her: charity. But why? Why not let nature take its course? Why stave off the inevitable? She no longer understands the morals of yesterday.
Eva marvels at all that Sabetha has recounted. What a strange, inhospitable land—and what strange folk. The “endless dark” that Sabetha spoke of appeals to Eva, but not the concomitant cold. She yearns for a lightless yet comforting place to call home.
“The remains of a dwarf…” Eva fixates on these words. She wishes she had seen, touched, studied the corpse. It might have helped her comprehend what has happened to her, understand herself.
She sits back down at her empty table. She calls Ténèbre to her lap. Before long, Eva falls into a kind of stasis, staring vacantly before her. The inn's other patrons do their utmost to avoid her.
In this way—in silence, in stillness, and, if it were not for Teb, in solitude—Eva passes the remainder of the day, and the night.
It is the next morning. Aside from Eva, you all come down from your rooms to break your fast. It is clear to each of you that you all had a somewhat troubled sleep (again, aside from Eva, who is just troubled generally). You all agreed to meet at the dwarves' safehouse at daybreak today (10 or so) in order to discuss what to do next. As those of you at the Northlook Inn prepare yourself to meet and discuss your plans, an unusually tall half-elf walks into the bar, obviously searching for someone. Turning to Elk Running, his eyes light up. He walks over to her and asks, in an accent that indicates long acquaintance with the Reghed tribes, "Are you she who is called Elk Running?"
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Sabetha wakes, stiff, from dreams of cold northern lights, of starving goblins in dark crystalline chains drawing a huge wagons with polar bears and mammoths and frost giants inside through a blizzard, of a knucklehead trout with devil horns speaking Infernal and spitting out a ring...
If Myrtle is downstairs, she thanks the tabaxi and decides to take a chance, asking her if she has ever heard of someone in town named Beldora.
Sabetha greets both Eva and Teb in equal measure with a smile. "I remember now that the group was to meet at the dwarven safehouse at daybreak to decide our next course of action. I hope you will come with me? We can return to meet Dannika here with them or without." She does not yet ask what she wants to ask, of the nature of Eva's 'mishap,' thinking it impolite. Though of course, nothing is going to stop the other party members from asking.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Eva and Teb follow Sabetha with their eyes as she approaches. After Sabetha speaks, they both spring to life. Eva does her best to return the smile; her scars make it difficult. "It would be an honor to accompany you. Don't you think, Teb?" Purring up a storm, Ténèbre leaps to the floor and affectionately collides into one of Sabetha's legs, as cats do.
Blackberry descends to the common room after a restless night and frightening dreams. He remembers the set gathering-time for his new friends, and prepares for the coming day. He sees the tall half-elf walk into the bar, and looks behind him, half-expecting to see a priest and a rabbi as well. (Does the newcomer speak in Common or Elvish?)
Aubin wakes drenched in sweat. He quickly looked to his hands to check if he still had all his fingers. Relief washes over him momentarily. Then he clenches his chest as if wanting to dig out his flesh. He draws blood and stops as he looks around and remembers again why he was here.
He angrily gets dressed and comes down to the common room with a grim expression.
Sabetha grins and immediately kneels to pet Teb and give them another gentle scratch behind and between the ears.
If Myrtle is present, she waits for a response to her exploratory question ((above)) regarding Beldora.
Once done (or if the tabaxi is not there), she departs with Eva and Teb as soon as convenient. Heading for the meeting spot at the dwarven safe-house.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
The tall half-elf speaks in the common tongue, and Blackberry has to crane his neck to glimpse around the mountainous form.
As they move forwards, the first feature that you take in is the bulk apparent even though the figure is clad in thick furs. They stand comfortably over 6 and a half feet and have the breadth of shoulder that keeps their size well proportioned. A washed-out, blue-hued, waxed cloak, hooded with fur trim on its edges acts as a top layer to defend against the winter elements and also helps to muffle he sound of a metallic clink that now reaches your ears. Below the top layers, you can see the associated grey metal links of a full chain mail shirt. Though it seems unnecessary, the approaching figure walks using a tall staff, moving it in time with his stride, and wears a shield strapped to his backpack.
As he pulls back his hood, his white-blonde hair can be seen more clearly, worn in the fashion of the Reghed tribes. The hair from the parietal ridge of his scalp starts in tight braiding, then loosens out into long locks, tied up high at his crown into a ponytail with several of the small scrimshaw ornaments popular in Bryn Shander woven and tied in. The sides of his scalp are clean-shaven and display tribal tattoos that flow from his face to wind around his head. His beard resembles the dwarven trends, gathered up in thick braids and held in place by thin hammered steel rings towards the end of the hair.
The woad coloring of the tattoos, similar to that of the cloak, stands out clearly yet pairs well with the grayish hue of the man's rough skin and accentuates the eyes which can only be described as icy. The bright, pale blue is reminiscent of ice across the lake, and the look that the man gives is equally cold and bleak. He stops a short distance away and asks again but in a different tongue (Elvish), "Are you she who is known amongst the tribes as Elk Running?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Myrtle is present for breakfast. “Oh! If only you had asked last night! Beldora left after you went to bed, but only after she did the dishes. She won’t take charity, which I think is odd for a beggar. Why are you looking for her? Did she earn a great inheritance from a long-forgotten relative? Or perhaps did she kill her husband after discovering he was a spy for Duergar? Is she, perchance, the long-sought queen of the mushroom kingdom? No…wait…that’s silly. She’s not a myconid.”
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Sabetha can't help smacking herself on the forehead in shame.
What a fool I am. A sad excuse for a Watcher. Of course Beldora is a beggar. And I all but ignored her, seeing only the act of charity and not the person.
She looks apologetically at Eva for the delay and ruefully at Myrtle. "I... I didn't know that was her. We've never met but we... have a common acquaintance. And possibly common intere- wait what? A spy for the Duergar? Are there gray dwarves or myconids about?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Eva, confused by her failed attempt to follow the remnants of her conscience, collects the 5 silver she had left on the bar for the beggar. "Is this Beldora a relative of yours?" she asks Sabetha.
Eva dons her filthy outerwear and prepares to face the elements. (She seems oblivious to her begrimed condition.)
Myrtle’s eyes grow wide. “Haven’t you heard? All creatures of the Underdark hate us surface dwellers and want to take us as slaves, except, of course, the myconids, who are searching for their lost queen, of whom great things have been prophesied. The Drow and the Duergar have entered into a pact to freeze us out of Icewind Dale; that’s why the Sun no longer rises. The Drow have used their magicks to weave a great web to block the sun’s rays and the Duergar act as their spies on the ground, keeping the dwarves at Kelvin’s Cairn from coming to our aid. It’s why I like meeting adventurers like yourself; you are our last line of defense against the Underdark. That’s why you’re here, right?”
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Sabetha lets Myrtle's avalanche of words crash over her, bemused. She tries to think whether she's ever heard of drow and duergar allying, but then if they had, why would some lowly fugitive agent like Sabetha have heard about it? She suspects there is at least a grain or two of truth amidst the wild talk.
"Thank you, Myrtle. Information is always appreciated. I can't speak for all adventurers, but I, at least, am here to help."
Sabetha taps her finger on her lips thoughtfully for a moment, eyes distant. Focusing on the tabaxi again, she respectfully murmurs: "If and when you see Beldora again, please give her my regards and tell her that I am looking for news on our common acquaintance, Remi. I will return."
As she turns to leave, Eva's question registers. Sabetha looks as if she is going to say something more, but then visibly stops herself.
Once they are out the door and on their way, she quietly answers: "What Beldora and I share is not common bloodline but common cause."
I do like Eva and Teb. Perhaps once we have known each other longer, we can confide our secrets to each other more freely.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Aubin does understand elvish. He looks to the tall half-elf and in a weary tone he says "No Blackberry is not Elk Running. Now if you excuse me, I need some coffee." He goes to the counter "coffee or whatever you have that is a strong stimulant and some breakfast" I must see the speaker or the sheriff today. I will find my prey.
Elk Running descends the stairs after another restless night. After centuries of slumber, she does not long for sleep. Indeed, the nightmares had her eager for the next day to arrive. She nods at stranger who is obviously associated with the Reghed. "I am called so. Good meeting. What need have you of Elk Running?"
The figure inclines his head to the elf as she acknowledges her identity. He pauses a moment before responding, looking at the two others that have engaged with him ahead of Elk Running's acknowledgement. Having had more response from his enquiry in Elvish, he continues so, "I would seek words with you. May we speak privately?" As the brusque human heads over to the bar, this tall figure motions towards a quiet corner away from the other patrons.
He awaits for Elk Running to join him before continuing in a low voice, there is a sense of urgency to the words, "Being blunt, I have reason to believe you are being hunted and I doubt anyone would identify themself to a stranger if they thought someone was searching for them. I work under Sheriff Southwell and would rather avoid any incidents whilst you are within Ten Towns." He lets the information sink in, not rushing his words and watching Elk Running's face as he shares the information, continuing at a metered pace, "I do not say this to alarm you. I would inquire though what your intentions are in the Towns, and how long you expect to be in Bryn Shander? Also, whether you have any ill-relations that immediately spring to mind when I mention this?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Elk Running follows the stranger to the corner without question. Once he speaks, she remains quiet for a time, contemplating the words. Of course she recalls the dream from last night. The timing is too uncanny to be coincidental.
“Wyrd is fate, and fate is inexorable,” Elk Running mutters darkly, in Elvish, while staring at the floor.
She raises her dark eyes to stare into the icy blue of his. “On another day I might wonder if you offer Loptr’s mead, but of late my sleep has been troubled by visits from one whom I suspect to be Auril, the Frostmaiden herself. Last night she warned me that I would be visited by one--” she considers this stranger carefully “--one thrice-killed, yet still alive, who speaks for a rival. A rival to Auril? To me? That I should strike first. That I should be the hunter, and not the prey.”
Elk Running’s hand has passed, slowly and casually, to touch the oaken quarterstaff at her hip.
“Who are you, stranger, bringer of dark tidings? Who is this hunter?”
Blackberry observes from a distance his friend talking with the newly arrived tall stranger. It seems cordial enough, but when her hand strays towards her weapon, he begins to casually stroll in their direction, ready to leap to her defense if a conflict should break out.
The icy blue eyes that Elk Running stares into crease ever so slightly at her mention her dream. "That is interesting... Do you follow the frostmaiden for her to appear to you by dream? Such portent from the gods would have shamans of the tribes in counsel for days."
As Elk Running's hand brushes his staff, so too does the bulky figure shift his stance, bringing his staff up to hold in both hands as he appears to nonchalantly lean forwards onto it. "We would all rather be the hunter than the prey, not all have the stomach for it. You though, you look like you would. Thrice-killed though, even from a god that sounds like scaremongering and bluster." A moment of mirth enters his eyes, before they resume their chill, "Or someone truly dangerous." Elk Running can read the pause, sense there is more to be said and the decision of what to speak is not one made lightly. "I am called Naraeld. Again, I would express my desire to avoid conflict within Bryn Shander. Perhaps, both our interests are served were I to accompany you on your business."
Bring out your inner chatacter class...