D&D - Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden

Falcon

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Fantasy, scifi, futuristic modern, fantasy modern, Action/adventure, Mystery, Fan-based,
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Icewind Dale was named for its winters but it used to be that it was just one of it's four seasons. Used to be…

Now the land is covered in snow, hounded by blizzards, and almost void of direct sunlight. Every morning before the sun rises Auril, the frost maiden rides her white roc through the dark sky and casts her spell. Weaving it through the air in a way that causes light to dance in the sky in wakes of blues greens, golds, and sometimes reds. Raw magic swirls and dances through the air, calling together the cold winds that keep the land in perpetual winter. It's a beautiful sight, one that used to show up only occasionally and inspire awe. Now it brings only fear and resignation.

It's been over two years since this started, and the locals are growing tired, losing hope of summer's return. The ten-towns that mark settled areas have even taken to making sacrifices to the goddess. Some giving up food, others warmth, and a few sending one person out to freeze once every new moon. By doing so they hope to earn Auril’s pity.

But she has no Pity.

It is this night, Long-night, that many have come to dread.


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In the town of Breman, however, the residents have also used this as a chance to bond together. In Breman they give up a night of warmth every long night, putting out all fires and gathering at the five tavern town center to weather the cold together. They divide their numbers more-or-less evenly between the taverns, crowding into the spaces, and using their own body heat combined with whatever furs, blankets, and rugs each person brings with them to stay warm. Many even stay clothed in their warmest winter outfit, coat boots and all, for the whole of Long-night. Often the residents take turns telling stories or playing tavern games, and of course they buy mead and ale as long as the taps remain open.

It is here, spread across the five taverns, invited to weather the cold with the locals, that fate begins to bring together the lines of seven would-be adventurers.

Outside as a blizzard begins to rage, our would-be adventurers settle in in their chosen tavern location to wait for morning.

All five taverns share the wood beam supported sod exterior and red clay roofs now covered in snow. All their main doors open onto the same town square with painted signs hanging out front. But it is here that the similarity ends.

The first tavern goes by the name “Black-bearded Brother.” This, perhaps, was considered to be the most respectable of the five taverns. Certainly it was also the cleanest. A dwarf with a carefully braided black beard runs around taking orders for various patrons while a black bearded human passes around bowls of stew. There is various artwork showcased around the walls (presumably created by various members of the staff) and on the whole it had a very hospitable and homey feel as each table was illuminated by a lantern which flickered cozily.

Most of the townsfolk who had chosen this location for Long-night were those with younger families as the current owner (the son of it’s builder) had taken care to hire a bard. For a while there were many songs the patrons could sing along to, and they did, before the tune settled into a soothing ambiance to help calm the cold younglings to sleep.

The second tavern, bearing a sign shaped like a sturdy boat and the words “Even Keel” painted in yellow lettering was a little livelier, and lit a little brighter, though the higher use of whale oil in the lanterns meant there was a slightly fishy smell that permeated the room. Several tables of locals had started up with games of dice and cards and they nursed their drinks. There wasn't a lot of money to go around but there were plenty of things to bet with, help with chores and containers of whale oil being two of the most offered commodities. One young, red-haired, half-elf was even trying to bet help with their research notes.

Next time you go out, take me with you… or take my notebook and record the experience."
"Deal, Tali, and if I win you spend an afternoon helping to gut trout!" The human woman across the table agreed. "Dannika, you playing as well?" She asked as she cracked the deck expertly, even with gloved hands.

The blond haired half-elf seated next to the red haired one nodded. "Deal me in, and if I win I want help with my weather research!"

"Just go stand out in the snow, lass!" A blond dwarf, cloaked and hooded in brown furs, grunted in a rolling voice as he placed a basket of crackers on the table. The whole table burst out in ruckus laughter.

Across the town square stood the "Rivers Mouth," it's sign depicting a stream flowing from between two white stones. It was here that an older, red bearded dwarf had set up a sort of doctor's office/chapel hybrid, the symbol of a set of golden scales flashing from the pin that held his pelt lined cloak closed. The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he mixed herbal tea for sore throats and told inspiring stories of Kelemvor before he became the just God of Passing. He was a good storyteller, though there were a few games of darts going in the other corner as the players only listened with half an ear. His brother listened approvingly from behind the bar and he used a little, carefully constructed whale oil burning stove, to keep a teakettle hot. Once the ninth bell tolled that too would have to be turned off, but for now it was allowed.

A number of families with older children had chosen this as the location of choice to stay for Long-night. The tales keeping their children entertained even while the priest’s very presence helped them soothe any fears. Many of the families here had brought every blanket in their house with them, and there were a number of forts and pillow nests being created throughout the inn with the help of an older dwarf baring a white beard and a grandfather’s smile, as his son tended bar and his daughter-in-law kept an eye on the weather out of a slit in a well-shuttered window.

Tavern number four was clearly labeled the “Grumpy Moose," and bore a sign paint in such a way that anybody could guess the name even without the blue letters. A group of oil traders from the northern Sea of Moving Ice, had taken up residence here with the town locals, very pleased that they would get one free night’s lodging, even if it was going to be a cold one. Of course it was good business practice for the chestnut bearded dwarf who ran the tavern to allow the merchants to set up in his main room. Merchant business attracted patrons which meant more money for the ale and meals he sold to those who hadn’t thought to provide their own food for Long-night.

In addition to selling their barrels of whale oil to the locals, the traders were telling numerous stories of what it was like to sail the frozen sea, including several near calls with shifting icebergs, and seeing what one sailor insisted was a white dragon flying across the sky.

This quickly turned into a contest of sorts where one human male with a blacksmith’s apron over his heavy coat insisted he had once seen Auril’s white roc, and another half-elf trying to one up them with a tale of a close encounter with an Owlbear.

Last but not least the fifth tavers’s sign was written with white letters displaying the word “Stones” under what looked to be a painted display of multi-colored rocks stacked on top of one another. It was quieter than the others as far as entertainment goes, though the ale flowed at a discount. It’s darkened interior was dimly lit by a set of older whale oil lamps which gave off a faintly fishy smell. Stuffed animal heads were displayed across the walls while the floor bore a light coating of sawdust and nut shells. Each table contained a basket of said nuts, with a cracker, for patrons to munch on.

A grey bearded dwarf twists his beard with his fingers as he directs a younger female version of himself through working the account books. The locals all know he’s planning to turn the tavern over to her to run in full within the next couple months, just as they know the russet haired woman is every bit as shrewd as her father.

In one corner a grizzled, grizzly bearded dwarf wrapped in furs seems to be telling fishing stories in hopes of luring help to his boats come morning. But it quickly erupts into other fishers pointing out that the area he wants to explore is host to a number of dangers, including crushing ice flows and what seems to be some sort of overly large fish that can capsize a boat.

Outside the blizzard rages on as daylight dwindles into the cold Long-night. The ninth bell tolls and even the stove fires are put out as the people in Breman take shelter in the Five Taverns and pull their furs closer.



(Location determined by dice roll)

Even Keel - Sylva, Shula
River’s Mouth - Kutolo
Grumpy Moose - Sigrid
Stones - Jon Jon, Esther, Merry

@Applo @Elle Joyner @Fyrra @KatSea @Midian @Sail @The Wanderer


 
Collab with @Falcon

Getting passage with the whalers had been a blessing in many ways, Sigrid reflected as she looked at her face in the bottom tankard, the middle of it warping around a prodigious dent in the metal. It was the last bits of her second one and she was grateful for its warmth, however false. Thanks to the whalers, she’d not only gotten shelter during their blizzard-blanketed stopover in Angajuk, but now got to stay at the Grumpy Moose as well, and it felt like a cheat on top of free passage. They apparently saw it a worthy trade to have a cleric devoted to Istishia onboard; Sigrid wasn’t sure how much she’d helped, but they’d seemed happy enough with her.



She couldn’t help being pulled out of her musing by their boisterous stories and she smiled a little; however, the look was generally concealed by her navy-colored hood, which was somewhat affixed to her forehead by a small, braided leather strap. Despite the impending long night, the place seemed to be in good spirits and that meant ale was flowing freely enough the chestnut-bearded dwarf was nearly flying to keep up. At a lanky 5’9, Sigrid felt for him and pushed herself from where she leaned on the wall as he dashed past.



“Hey, can I help you with anything? I’m not doing more than casting a shadow at the moment.”



"Are you offerin' ta help because you can' pay yer tab, or are you offern' ta help because yer board?" Cam the gruff voice of the Dwarf and he paused and looked over his shoulder at her.



“Just looking to be helpful; money’s no problem, and I’ve done my share of nights serving down in mess,” she replied, her long and restless fingers seeking any pocket or belt loop as she shifted her weight.

"So I think I can be useful, unless I'll be in your way."



"Aye, tha's a far cry differn' then bein' short." He turned and she could now clearly see that a thick scar twisted the corner of his mouth impeding his speech a little bit. "Names Thalrus, Thalrus Stronghammer. My Father Rogar Buil' this tavern." The words were said with pride as his chest puffed a little. "Wha's yer name, Lass?"



“I’m Sigrid. And it’s a very fine tavern indeed; I know I and the whalers are grateful for it” she replied, giving a tired ghost of a smile at his pride. She stepped forward and the shadow of distance cleared from most of her face except for deep lavender channels under her bright blue eyes. She quickly tucked her long, wavy black hair back under her hood where it spilled out and secured her silver-colored bosun’s pipe in the collar of her shirt where the pipe hung from a sturdy metal chain. Briefly, as it passed the light, a crashing wave could be seen etched into the buoy.

“Now, what can I do, Master Stronghammer?” she asked, giving a small, joking salute.

He grinned u[ at her as much as he could with half his mouth remaining closed. "If ya wan' ta help Adelaide in the Kitchen. She knows best wha's needed. Make sure ta tell her tha' yer helpin' ta help though. ..." And with that he was off again to deliver the tray of food he was carrying to the correct table.



Sigrid melted away from the crowd and stuck her head into the kitchen.

“Adelaide? Thalrus said I should let you know I’m back her to help—just help—I mean—not for pay help—just regular--what can I chop?”



Chop was the right word as she found a middle aged human woman directing an teenage boy to stir a pot over the stove, a cutting board full of vegetables left abandoned as she tried to salvage a slightly burnt stew. "Nevermind we'll give it to the drunkest. They won't mind a little extra flavor..." she wiped her forehead and retied the scarf over her ears. "You mean you volunteered to lend a hand?" she asked turning chestnut eyes of Sigrid.

“Yes ma’am, I’m not a lot used to just standing,” Sigrid affirmed, moving more into the kitchen.



"Well come in and get warm while you can. The last cook fires go out at Ninth Bell. You might as well enjoy it while it lasts. If you can get those potatoes into even bite sized pieces I'd appreciate it." Adelaide waved her in even and she fetched a second cutting board out and moved a number of frost bitten herbs over to it. "I think if I can get one last post of stew finished before then it'll hold us out until morning."



Sigrid nodded and ducked into her task, working with practiced efficiency to get everything ready for the Ninth bell. As it tolled, Sigrid did her best to help finish serving up the soup before finding a secluded corner to curl up in. Wrapping herself in all of her winter clothes and bedroll and using her backpack like a pillow, Sigrid watched the others settle in from under her hood until she finally fell asleep sometime in the wee hours.
 
The blanket was the warm, furlined sort. The peddler had yapped about seal hide and snow elk for so long Emery had lost concentration, but curled in the warm folds now, all she could think of were those times in the Dale when cold snaps would leech the heat from the walls and leave them all struggling to find warmth. Mama would snuggle up with her in front of the fire with Daddy's bear furs until morning and tell her stories about the Calim Desert. Of the Black Raiders and the Shining Sea. Of the Genies, driven out and silks and spices and rich, ripe sunmelon. She’d go on and on until Merry drifted off to sleep and woke again to crackling flames and the scent of roast pheasant and sweet apple tarts.

Raising her hands, Merry pulled the folds of the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and fought a shiver, chattering teeth pinching her lower lip as her free hand brushed at the brief wetness that clung to her lower lashes. With a sniff, her gaze turned to the woman seated a little ways away. Esther was, without a shadow of doubt, the most patient woman ever to walk the realms. Since they had left home in the still of the night, she had been an unyielding force, both deeply comforting and oddly grounding, and Merry owed it to the woman to keep herself together. Missing Mama was just fine. She knew that, even if she didn’t know a whole lot. But dwelling on it, letting it eat away at her was only going to make their journey all the more challenging. Someday they would go home again and everything would be just fine… Someday.

Behind Esther’s head, a light spark of red caught in the glint of the dying embers in the fireplace and unable to resist, the corners of Merry’s lips turned up, kissed by a cheery grin, “Oh, it looks just like you, Squelly…" She half whispered, a few odd looks twitching in her direction. If she noticed, she hardly seemed to care, leaning forward on her knees with a bounce of excitement, “It’s been ever so long, my dear little friend. I--oh...Oh. Quiet. Right.”

With a nod, she pressed a finger to her lips, her voice lowering even more, "I miss you so much! It's so very cold here and I miss home and Mama and oh, Squelly do I miss Lemmy's morning breads… So warm and soft. The kind with the currants and those lemon sorts, with the little black specks. Remember when Genessa tried to tell me they were bugs? I'd probably eat a bug if it tasted like Lemmy's cooking. All we've had since leaving is fish and crackers and I don't mean to complain because I know why we left… or well, I kind of know. I think I know. Cousin Geris visited again and Mama always worries when he comes. Essie explained some of it, but you know I have a hard time with listening sometimes… but I do know it's important we don't go back yet. But it's so hard… so very hard. I wanna be good about it, Squelly. Essie deserves it. Sometimes, sometimes it just makes me so… sad. All this cold and snow and ice. And the people here… Do you ever get sad? No. No, of course you don't. I couldn't imagine you sad. Gosh, that would be terrible." Pausing, her smile faded a little as she tucked forward into her hands, "Sometimes I think you and me are the only ones left who see it, Squell. The light. I'm not sure if it's cause I'm not too smart… That's not to say you aren't smart, but I think sometimes other folks just hold too much in their heads. Blocks it out or something. Like how clouds sometimes cover the sun. Well, here it half seems there is no sun. But I wanna see it always. And I wanna help them, if I can… see it too. Do you think I can? I know you said it once, but… well. Things have changed a lot. Anyway… I know I should go to sleep. Essie says we've got a long road ahead. We have to keep moving. But I do miss you. Please think about visiting me, soon… please?"

As silence fell, and the ember faded into a husk of char, her eyes trailed from the fireplace again. Sighing softly, she curled into the blanket like a child her mother's embrace.
 
Jon Jon
Stones tavern


"Bahamut, bless this meal and may it nourish me, keep me safe in this cold nights." Jon Jon quietly said his prayer to his deity, barely above a whisper as he ate a somewhat warm meal. Started out hot, but the cold in this place was so much that in the few seconds it took for his meal to get from the pot to him, it had gone from hot to just above lukewarm.

The cold while seeping into his very bring, he didn't mind it all that much, as it was just another task he had to face in order to get further north to where that Dwarf had said " 'at's where Bahumet's 'ome is." He was a devout man who wanted to meet the deity of his worship for guidance and to vow his life to his service.

The others in this dimly lit tavern were huddling close for their warmth to keep the cold at bay, but to Jon Jon, faith was all he really needed. That and the soup helped.

He kept an ear out for talk of the next caravan going further north, as he had been rather stuck in this place for a decent while, he couldn't quite tell how long, his brain wasn't exactly good for that level of thinking. But so far, only talk of a potential fish career and little else was being talked about, so hopes of getting outta town and up north.

Jon Jon hoped things would change, and soon.
 

Metal crashed through the ice, shattering it into countless splinters as it plunged into the frigid liquid below before the wielder drove the blade in quick circles to widen the portal to the freezing air. Job done the blade was removed and unsettling green eyes gazed down, reflecting in the result of its work. If the eye’s owner took any satisfaction in a task completed, it did not show in the twisting and rolling reflection cast by the newly uncovered surface. If the reflection showed anything, it was annoyance; contempt.

Flicking her knife to remove the last few drips of small beer from the blade, Sylva lifted her sight from the cup in her other hand and stared around the room with barley contained contempt. Ice and sailors do not make happy bedfellows. While the average mariner will be all too used to feeling the biting chill of a northly wind, there are rare few seafarer who travel into ice choked waters. Sylva had never been one of those rare few. Her old captain had always favoured seas warm enough to bathe in. It was hard for Sylva to believe the smarmy faced git had ever been as far north as this, let alone gotten his start here as he had claimed. What was there to gain from a place where your drink froze in the cup and the locals where stupid enough to douse the fires.

Well, there was warmth, or at least the whale oil that would gift it. The half-elf had been half watching the various games of dice and cards going on around her. While some of the players were offering and demanding strange and stupid prizes, there were some stakes actually worth playing for. Besides, freezing beer held little allure and Sylva left hers on the bar as she glided across the tavern like a shark closing in on its prey.

“Deal me in.”

From over the red-haired half-elf’s shoulder, three golden coins fell from tattooed hands and landed on the table with heavy thuds to announce the new player’s presence.

“If I win, I want lamp oil.”​

 
Collab: @Falcon

All alone with his thoughts. That’s what Kutolo liked best-time to talk to himself without worrying about someone butting in, trying to question his strangeness. Just a mile more of the silence, and then-

A thought, intrusive in nature, as if a child poking their head into their parent’s bedroom. He leaned down, grabbed a mound of snow, forming it into a ball. And then, feeding it with energy, warming it, until instead of snow, water dripped down his hands. It pushed the anxiety away, made him sure that everything would be okay. It was his own personal sacrifice that he made every time he returned to his home, to the one place that he could find safety.

-he didn’t realize he was closer than he thought. His brain smelled the smoke from the few fires that remained lit before the Long Night, before there would be no heat for everyone in town. Those nights were always so dark, and with the blizzard, he couldn’t even appreciate the stars above. He pulled his cloak tighter, the snow beginning to pick up. Already, his vision was becoming obscured-maybe he needed to rush?

He ruffled around in his pack, pulling out his waterskin. He fed a bit of arcane energy into the water itself, flavoring it to taste like a fine wine without the alcoholic effects; normal water usually was too boring anymore, especially since he learned how to manipulate the flavor of water without much effort. He warmed it slightly, then continued on his trek back into the town of Bremen.

A few of the townsfolk watched from each tavern as he passed them by; he could remember nearly all of their names, and could often also remember things he did for them. As approached the door of the Rivers Mouth tavern, his home away from home, he grinned.

-he enters the tavern, wiggles his way through the crowd.

"Teacher, I..." His eyes darted around, "Can I speak with you in private, please?"

Ronan, the healer telling stories with his beard as fury a red as his tale, made a short shushing motion with his hand. The venture was clear, let him finish for a moment. "And So Mask hid Kelemvor away from those of evil designs until such a time as he was ready to right the wrongs that Cyric introduced into the afterlife. For death is a natural part of things, as is not something that should bring fear! Now, if you all don’t might, I'm going to take a break from storytelling for a moment, Go ahead and finish your blanket forts. I’ll come back and tell you the tale of how Kelemvor became a Just God in a little bit.”

An ungloved hand waved the listeners on to get their own meals and tea even as he turned to the young man who had approached. “Kutolo, My Boy! Am I glad you see you. For a while there I was worried you would not be able to beat the weather. Come, Your Uncle has hot tea waiting. Let's get you a dry cloak and a quiet corner. You can tell me all once you’re settled!”

The dry cloak and a quiet corner both sounded nice to him. He removed his current cloak, throwing it over his shoulder as he followed Ronan to the nearby corner. He saw a corner booth with no one sitting at it; he reached out with his soul, snuffing the nearby torch out. "That booth there, I think that's a good spot. Nice and dark, away from prying eyes," he said to him.

Ronan’s bushy eyebrows rose with a grunt, “You're not about to tell me speaker Shalescare wandered out on his own again are you?” But the dwarf collected two mugs of tea from the bar, passed one over, and settled in to listen to the young man’s story.

Kutolo took a small sip from the warm liquid, then began to speak. “So...um, I delivered the package. Everything was going alright-” He took another drink. “-and then, well, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Jestin was pretty joyous when he saw the package...wouldn’t there be a way to fix his hand one day? I thought I remember reading tales of more powerful clerics able to repair damaged limbs, even restore them”

“Aye there are ways if you’re strong enough and if you catch the wound in time. But the boat collision that took his hand happened years okay and I was never taught those spells...But from your words I think something happened after you left his store?” Ronan sipped slowly at his own mug.

“Mmm...yes” Kutolo was worried he might’ve healed the injury wrong, but he continued. “On my way back, I passed by that small lake between here and Targos. There was a fisherman, he um, he fell through the ice. Pretty sure he was unconscious...he was very cold.” Kutolo let out a small chuckle, seeing the irony in what he said. “Guess we are all very cold. Anyways, um, I pulled him out. I was a tad worried he might have been dead, so I reached my soul into his and fished around. Luckily he wasn’t dead, so I offered up a little prayer to Kelemvor and, um, restored him to awareness. Talked to him for a bit, helped him regain his sense of direction, even helped him back home.”

“Oh is that all!” The relief in Ronan’s face was clear as he reached across to pat Kutolo’s hand. “You did well, Son! You didn’t take injury yourself did you? Didn’t walk back in wet clothing?”

"Luckily no. I learned a few little tricks recently, haven't had time to show them to you, but the coat really wasn't wet. But this cloak is much nicer. I might be able to dry things out now, but I can't fix the nasty matting from it being wet."

“Dry is more important anyway,” Ronan rumbled into his mug, ”Although if you’re after more tricks I think your bard friend has chosen to spend Long-night over at the Blackbearded brother.”

“Ah, I think I’d like to stay out of the snow for now,” he chuckled as he looked out the window, “Then again, maybe I will head over there.” He turned away, and began to walk towards the tavern door.
 
Esther's eyes locked with her charge, ignoring the chills trickling down her spine. She missed the feeling of warmth coating her skin, how the fireplace roared and crackled back at home. It didn't matter now. It was more than bearable, as long as Merry was well attended to. Without question, Esther was by her side. It was the least she could do for the hospitality her family gave her. That...and Merry was a good child. Odd at times, murmuring things under her breath and claiming to have friends Esther had not met. Her mind seemed so busy with bumbling thoughts that she'd wander off and leave Esther with a trembling heart and scorching tension at the back of her neck. But now she rested, mere feet beside her, bundled in blankets and keeping warm. Good. That's all Esther could ask for. Her eyes were heavy as she observed her charge, but she felt so at peace that it was almost impossible to keep them open. It would not hurt for a second, would it? It would give her time to reflect.

I'm not sure if you bother to hear me, but I feel your comfort and I thank you for such a merciful feeling. Promise me I will not lose her or myself along the way. I don't think that's a lot to ask, all things considered. I will continue to do what I can for the both of us. She does not deserve this, and to be fair, I do not either. I know you will give me strength in the end, but guidance now would suffice.

Esther's eye peeked open lazily. By some miracle, she had not run off. She seemed as tired from the ordeal as she did. I do not blame her, poor dear.

Esther pushed herself from where she sat, her own blanket dangling from her clutched fist. Merry was whispering again, voice quiet but excited. I talk to my friends sometimes too, dear. I'm sorry you can't see him now. Sucking in a shallow breath, Esther glided over to her charge and secured her in another layer of warmth. Hesitantly, she reached out, tempted to brush a stray hair from her face, but as she watched her toss and turn until she found security in her fortress. Esther let her hand fall to her side.

"Sleep well, dear. Hope you dream of owlbears."
 
Many moons had passed since a certain dark-skinned traveler set sail into the sword coast: moons filled with sightseeing, mischief, and a string of both strange luck and unfortunate choices. Why anyone would choose to visit Icewind Dale would be anyone's guess, but either fortune or circumstance provided a courtesy within its borders: privacy. People tended not to ask questions about why one lived in this frozen tundra, where even the lakes lie solid and communities subsist by fishing through artificial cracks. The same could not be said of Alm, or The Gates of Balduran, or the cityscape of Neverwinter: their respect for someone's privacy apparently lie colder than those who persisted in the land of Alwayswinter, somehow.

Shula had arrived by ship, falling in with a number of deck hands in a more populated area of the ten-towns, and following a crudely-drawn map across the snow and into Bremen to what there was to see: a fool's errand which had led her into a mead hall of sorts with a bright, painted sign, marking it as the Even Keel. Were it not providing lodgings for sailors and whalers, then something smelled fishy about the building. The bundled-up traveler couldn't quite place a finger on what, but it served drinks and the interior lacked a layer of frost, both in its furnishings and apparently the spirits of the patrons. If only the same could be said of the drink, no?

Shula could have just gone straight to bed in an attempt to warm it up, but as she found herself staring into a tankard, or a glass, or a horn, or whatever it was the locals called their drink canisters, a piece of a conversation caught her ear: gamblers, wagering chores and lantern oil, of all things. Or, specifically, the one who wasn't wagering those: an elf? Getting up from her seat elsewhere, Shula invited herself to this odd table, if not to the game.

"You are researching the weather?" She had to know. "It must not be so simple a thing, to seek help like this. What about it do you investigate?"
 
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“What is there to investigate? The weather is cold. That is it.”

Scowling, Sylva took a seat at the table and pushed her coin towards the middle, a heavy breath hovering over the tiny horde. One by one, the half-elf’s fellow players felt her gaze upon them as cards were shuffled and dealt. Finally green eyes fell upon the dark skinned newcomer to the table. Something about the woman made lips that had been set in a hard scowl cracked into a slight smile.

“If you aren't going to play, you could at least share your warmth with me, yeah.”

Shuffling so that half of her chair was unoccupied by her own scarce frame, Sylva laughed a horse laugh as she patted the empty wood ever so softly.

“Now let us play.”

Cards were dealt and cards were examined and finally, cards were shown. Of course having lived amongst a certain kind of sailor for so much of her life, Sylva was playing with a few more cards than the rest of the table; cards that were carefully concealed from prying eyes. It wasn’t cheating unless you were caught and not one of the people at the table said a word. There was a raised eyebrow from the half-elf who bore the name Tali, but they were the first to leave the table and raised no fuss when they did, perhaps distracted by the gloating of the fair-haired Dannika.

The next followed in much the same fashion with Dannika departing, leaving only the human, Ylva, between Sylva and her whale oil her warmth.

“One more hand?”

Nodding in agreement, Sylva stared at the woman who shared so much of her name with renewed focus.

One by one, Ylva dealt the cards to the half-elf.

Small card followed small card into Sylva’s hand until finally she lost her nerve at nineteen.

Next, Sylva dealt the cards one at a time to Ylva, a ball of tension growing in her stomach until suddenly the woman sighed.

“My supplies are at my cabin,”

The human flipped over her cards. Green eyes raced over them. Sylva counted a score of twenty-two. Relief and euphoria raced through the half-elf for a moment until her mind caught up with the words still coming out of Ylva’s mouth.

“but I’ll give you my note and bring you the oil in the morning when the snow stops."

It was a genuine labour for Sylva to hide her disappointment and frustration. It had been stupid to hope that a source of warmth was sequestered somewhere in this freezing tavern. She could hardly complain. It had been her plan to break this town's tradition and find an empty shed to burn her prize in for a warm night's sleep. No, she just had to smile and act like a victor. Sylva did this in pretty much the only way she knew how; stumbling to the bar and slamming one of her reclaimed gold coins down on the counter.

“Whatever you have that is proof enough to burn and as much as that will buy me. I want to celebrate.”​

 
"Well for one thing this weather's not natural ..." Dannika started realizing this new person at the table wasn't gabling, "Icewind Dale use to have regular seasons just like the rest of the world, if a bit colder. No, I'm convinced this weather is magically caused, whether from a curse, or the frostmaiden intervening, or someone meddling with the ancient artifacts they say fell under the great glacier... and if the cause is not natural it stands to reason that the solution might not need to be either!" The fair haired half-elf was so immersed in explaining this to Shula that she completely lost her next hand.

Frowning she set aside her cards and continued talking. "There are however, elementals that can alter the world around them a little bit. Notable a being called a chwinga."

"Those pesky little things," Ylva grumped, "They keep playing in my tackle. But haven't seen any since the last storm blew through."

"That's the problem," Dannika sighed. "They're playful beings, and curious, but big weather or violent actions tend to scare them away. I've looked all over town and can't find any. What I need are people willing to help keep an eye out for them. I think if I could convince just one that I need it's help I might be able to use what they could teach me to compile a working theory on the larger problem of the land's weather..."

She paused just long enough to sign her name as witness to Ylva's IOU to Sylva who had gotten up to go to the bar.



"Are you sure you want all that lass?" the blond-bearded dwarf boomed at her from behind the bar, "That will buy you four whole gallons. I'm not a man to turn up his nose and good coin mind you, there's so little to go around here, but I don't want my guests making themselves sick either."

"Maybe call it a prepaid tab then, Segar?" A soft voice rumble from Sylva's elbow as Tali slipped up beside her. "You can feel good with taking honest coin, and Lady Luck here can drink as much or little as is desired without feeling obligated? I'm sorry, I didn't get your name before. You can call me Tali."

The red-haired half-elf waited until the dwarf had gone to fill a mug before continuing in a much lower voice. "I won't tell the others what you were doing, I don't like trouble, but I would like to ask a favor in return... Dani promised to help me with something that could take a few weeks, meaning she can't go travel around looking for these critters she's hoping to see. You seem like the sort who does travel. If you see one, will you just send us a message or something?""


((based on @Sail 's rolls))

Outside the wind howled, buffeting against the buildings, the reason for the sod construction now clear to those you had not yet witnessed winter's bite. Kutolo, feeling the need to check in on more of the town's residents (and his friends) slipped out into the frost bitten air, taking a moment to survey his surroundings and ensure himself of the destination before he set out into the snow laden gale, aiming for the tavern called Stones. There were a few people he hoped would be there, including the town Speaker who tended to wander. Checking in there first would put his mind at ease.

It was not to be so easy. The storm winds were so strong and fearsome that they pushed the sturdy human male off course. It was fortunate that Kutolo had lived in Breman some years, because as soon as he reached the sign on the Black-Beaded brother, he knew where he was again. This time though, instead of crossing the town square, He had only to brace himself against the tavern's sod wall and follow it to the left. He got by the gap to the alley reasonably well given the outside conditions, and then found his hand once again on a sod wall. There was the light from the window, peeking through the shutters, and that was enough to find the door.

A moment later Kutolo has successfully pulled himself inside the Tavern called "Stones" and shut the door behind him.

"Are you Mad Boy?" Hadar, the grey-bearded dwarf's voice rang out in surprise. "It's cold enough without you galivanting around in the snow, letting the wind in!"



The night winds on, the cold piercing even the sod walls, though huddling together for warmth helps. Eventually most find sleep as the wind dies down and morning comes.

If morning it can be called. In the Icewind Dale it is never better than twilight's dim light, even at mid day. Auril makes sure of that. The sky hanging so overcast that it's like walking under a impending thunderstorm from 10 to 2. But there is some light, enough to know when daylight is supposed to be present at least.

When the time comes, the morning lanterns are lit along with the kitchen stoves, and the chefs of all five taverns start pulling together what they can to feed their overnight guests. Fried Trout are a prominent feature of the menu.

Ylva does slips away from the Even Keel, returning a short while later with the full flagon of the lamp oil Sylva had won off her the night before. "Make good use of it," the human woman instructs as she trades it for the IOU.
 
One couldn't help chuckling at the blunt response shared around the table, at least among the native folk. Shula herself couldn't tell the difference: this far north she would have assumed the long winter was but a fact of life: snow and ice covering peoples' homes as the sands blanketed her own homeland. That someone thought it unusual caught her attention, thus she brushed off the elven stranger's dismissal. "Cold, wet and dark, yes. One needn't watch a tenday to weave such silk. I want to hear this."

She stared for a moment afterword, surprised once more by the blunt proposition. There could be no poetry in this one, but after a quick appraisal Shula slipped into the chair with a shrug and slipped an arm 'round the waif: perhaps it was amusement, or the mead clouding her thoughts? "Ah, to swing like a sailor so far from shore. Why not?" And thus the games began, Shula's eyes paying little attention to the cards themselves until something unusual crossed her eye: an extra, slipped in from the sleeve, or some other concealed place. What was odd about the exchange was that nobody said a word. Someone else must have, or at least caught onto the girl's puzzled expression, but that's why she doesn't join in on dice or cards.

But, the elven arm-candy? Shula could at least deduce that her needs were simple: coin, or whatever was being wagered.... and warmth. The lengths she would go to were telling, enough that Shula kept her other hand upon the pouch inside her furs, but apart from a hushed "nice hands" she breathed naught a word of the treachery: it'd spoil the mood, and the last thing anyone here would want is bad blood. Besides, nothing being wagered sounded important, and should anyone gamble with something they could not bare to part with, there could be no saving them from the next time they made a poor decision.

This talk of the elementals at least provided food for Shula's curiosity. "So they've vanished, and their input is needed to test a hypothesis, or at least to give you a guiding gust." Frustrating. It all seemed so incidental, wandering into this conversation, but that must have made the dismissal of everyone present all the more troublesome for Dannika. Shula herself wouldn't be of much use: she'd never spoken with an elemental before, and the magic had yet to bless or curse her with comprehension even if she could find such a creature. This sounded more appropriate for one educated in matters of the arcane, but where would one of those be lurking, this far out in the tundra?

Then again, where would a resident of a fishing village find someone who knew the difference between a theory and a hypothesis? Hapless strangers in a meadery might be all Dannika had.

"Tell me what they look like, and I'll try to send one here, should we cross paths." - Noncommittal, but warm all the same. Shula'd had her fill for the night, and morning couldn't come soon enough, especially not with the trout to look forward to. The young girl almost looked gleeful, wolfing it down and any seconds that might've been offered in mere minutes, in an almost barbaric manner.
 
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“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

For a moment there was silence between Sylva and Tali as the former looked the latter square in the eyes, almost daring the red-haired half elf to say something. And then, the moment passed; a slight smile crept onto Sylva’s face.

“You can call me Sarah, and I will let you know if I see any of these chawingawa of yours, Tali. You can be sure of it.”

There was no point making trouble for such a small request. Tali was clearly smarter than most of the people of this frozen hell if they had caught onto the little scam with the cards. People like that were worth being on the good side of. They could be useful. Of course being useful didn’t mean that the half-elf needed to know exactly who Sylva was. Names were a powerful thing.

“Tali has a good idea. Consider this payment in advance.”

Smiling at the freshly returned barman, Sylva grinned as she picked up the mug the man had deposited on the bar.

“And don’t worry about me making myself sick. I can hold my liquor.”

With that the waifish half-elf lifted the cup to her lips and swallowed down the liquid that burned her throat in defiance of the cold.

“Another!”



The morning didn’t so much as creep up on Sylva, but rather slap her around the face. Even before her eyes opened the half-elf was aware of the pounding in her head, the dryness of her mouth and the nauseousness in her stomach. The only consolation was that the air around her was warm now, though there had been warmth of a kind during the night. The memory was hazy, but Sylva could just recall a body, dark hair and a familiar scent. Blindly she reached out, but her hands found only tangled blankets and furs. Disappointed, she tried to wrap herself in the empty covers and fall back asleep.

The attempt did not last long.

The nausea in the half-elf’s stomach did not subside, but rather grew. Before the logs in the fire were even charred all over the feeling became entirely overwhelming. Sylva’s blood riddled eyes opened and only a heartbeat later she had scrambled to her feet and was running for the door. The journey was not an easy one. Rugs, chairs and the feet of those still asleep were tripped and stumbled over but mercifully for all, Sylva managed to keep her balance and composure long enough to throw herself through the doorway before the convulsions of her stomach overtook her.

When the half-elf staggered back into the warmth of the inn once more, her face was even paler than it had been before, but the frantic look had faded from her eyes. Sylva didn’t bother trying to find sleep once more. Instead, she slumped down next to her dark skinned human acquaintance, a now familiar smell creeping up her nose as she did so. The fish that was being so eagerly consumed by her table mate was eschewed by Sylva who stuck to simply tearing up bread into small lumps. She was still doing this when a heavy flagon landed in front of her.

“Make good use of it.”

With bleary eyes, the half-elf looked up at Ylva, her mind slowly connecting drink addled dots as to what was happening.

“Yeah, I will try.”

It took even longer to solve the mystery of why the human was holding out her hand expectantly but eventually the IOU was fished from a pocket; one corner of it looked rather well chewed. Once Ylva had gone, Sylva slumped her head into the crook of one arm while the other shoveled the shredded bread into the pocket that the IOU had just been extracted from. Bloodshot eyes swiveled to her savagely hungry companion.

“Did we share a blanket last night?”

With a groan, Sylva closed her eyes and let her head slump fully on the table as another wave of nausea hit her.

“How can you eat like that?”​

 
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Jon Jon

Finishing his stew, the young monk noticed a pair trying to keep warm, with one sacrificing their extra layer for their charge, leaving them more exposed to the deathly cold, a faint shiver in their form. Making Jon Jon feel slightly guilty as he thought over what he should do, ultimately deciding to take off his thick cloak, leaving his robes on that while had some fur to them, wasn't quite as thick and protective as the cloak was against the cold.

Walking over to the pair, he'd hold his cloak to her. "Please take this, the warmth of Bahamut will keep me safe from the cold. But for you and your charge, I do not want either of you to catch death of cold." Jon Jon had a particular way of speaking, as it didn't make a whole lot of sense when he spoke. One could blame lack of proper teaching of proper vernacular and syntax.

@Elle Joyner @KatSea
 
With @Falcon
It wasn't waking up on a ship, that was for damn sure. Sigrid was eased into consciousness by the cold, bruise-y ache of anything touching the floor and with a creaky hyyeeuuuhhh managed to roll onto her stomach, causing her back to seize Had someone beaten her with an icicle while she slept? Sig wouldn't have ruled it out. Sigrid wiggled on her stomach a little and managed to get up on her elbows, then sat up with a low hyyyggggghh. A few moments of walking like she had two peg legs later, Sigrid managed to limber up enough to pack her things, bundle up, and step outside.

About as cheery as an aboleth's asshole out here.

Sigrid looked around at the frozen village and it finally dawned on her:

She had no idea where to go to carry out her mission from Istishia or how to go about it. Auril clearly was not there at the moment, but where did she go when she wasn't wrecking havoc on the environment? Goddesses didn't post up and wait for the mail to come, after all.

Hi Auril, could you give me your address so I can pop round and wreck your shit like an orc at its first buffet? Thanks darling, see you in an hour. Yeah, that's exactly how that'll go Sig, good fucking work. You grabbed a breastplate and all two of your possessions and set off half-cocked to kill a goddess. Excellent plan, you great idiot.

Sigrid tugged her hood forward a little more and looked around at the people going about their lives. Someone had to know something, and the only way to find out was to start talking to someone. Casting about for someone not earnestly on their way, Sigrid caught sight of a dwarven man tottering on the lake dock. He didn't seem to be going anywhere too quickly, or in too much of a straight line, so Sigrid approached, discreetly trying to put herself between him and the edge of the dock.

"Um, excuse me... I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time?"

He looked up at her and gave a little jolt. " It's a bit early isn't it? I thought I told you all you could meet me for the job after breakfast was done. Where are the others anyway?"

"The-- um-- the others? There-- there aren't any others. Who are you looking for?"

' not any others.." the dwarf looked mildly confused for a moment as he rubbed his temples, clearly struggling with a hang over."lass, I hired you all to go fishing for me last night"

Feeling a little sorry for the hungover man, Sigrid sighed.

"Ah... How about I go see if I can't find them? What tavern were you in?"

"I stayed at the stones... It really wasn't you? Well if you want work I have plenty to go around."

Sigrid looked over her shoulder at the taverns and nodded.

"I'll go see if I can't round up your wayward fishermen if-- if in return you'll tell me more about Auril? After the job."

The dwarf blinked at her for a moment,"do I look like a cleric, lass? I don't no much about that sort."

"But surely you must know-- something-- anything would be helpful."

Sigrid sighed. Whether he knew anything or not, she felt like she'd already promised to help, and he wouldn't be the first fisherman in distress she'd helped.

"Let me see who I can rustle up-- if you'll just think about it, please."

Sigrid trotted off towards the Stones tavern and slipped inside, looking at those hadn't filtered out in search of breakfast. Circulating, Sigrid began looking for anyone who had promised to help the fisherman, hoping that if she didn't find them, she could at least find someone interested in some fishing work.
 
The night's fun dwindled down the moment the games had ended, and everyone went their separate ways. For Shula, the mead she'd sampled beforehand made up the brunt of her dinner: light and sweet, and just enough to keep her stomach sated in the night... or so the girl thought. She'd also thought to sleep alone, but when she stirred in the morning Shula found her limbs entwined with those of another, and the smell of boozy breath stinking up the blankets. She jolted to the side upon realizing who it was, but as the startled movement wasn't enough to wake the elven waif up, it gave her time to collect her composure. Thankfully, they both still had their clothes. It was the only thing keeping Shula from panicking: a disastrous prospect for everyone in the building.

"Share your warmth with me, you said," the girl mused under her breath with a quiet chuckle, "I should stop feeding strays." With that, Shula slid out from a rather cozy embrace, letting the waif get her rest in. The smell of fish brought her back into the meadery's main hall, and with a mighty rumble from her stomach the girl dug in.

Her escape must not have been as gentle as she intended: she saw the tattooed girl rushing past, but spoke nary a word to her.... until she invited herself back into the next seat. Only then did Shula stop forking filets into her mouth and give breakfast time to settle in her stomach: her appetite would make use of the extra food one way or another, but she at least recognized it was rude to eat like nobody was watching in the company of someone, even if she'd never caught or asked for the waif's name.

Ylva had come and gone, leaving Shula and her slender acquaintance in the relative quiet of the morning, until a question broke the silence between them.

"You do not remember?" Shula asked, setting her skewer of fish down to look the unkempt girl over. For a brief moment mischief sparkled in her eyes, before she decided that messing with the girl would be too mean. "I do not either. You were with me when I woke up." Cue a shrug. Shula hadn't spent enough time in Icewind Dale to familiarize herself with the social rituals of the locals, but at least with this girl it felt like she was only after the warmth: not reason enough to get to know her, or even to ask her name, were this not the second time she was sought out. Still, She winced when the elf's head hit the table.

"Here." She twisted her hand about, uttering a few nonsensical, practiced syllables while her hair and furs bristled backwards, as though caught in a breeze, in spite of neither an open door or window being present. When it stopped, a pale, blue light shot out from Shula's hand and took its shape, grasping a warm washcloth from nearby. With another twist of her hand, the pale imagery brought it over, placed it upon Sylva's forehead and vanished, at which point Shula turned her attention back to finishing up her trout, at a measured pace this time.

It seemed more prudent than explaining her appetite, but Shula felt little need to sit around for much longer..
 
@KatSea , @The Wanderer

Somehow, absent even of her mother’s comforting ministrations and the promise of warm, crusty bread, Merry had made it through the night with relatively sound slumber. Due in large no doubt to the exhaustion of constant strains of travel, she nevertheless woke feeling rested, albeit half frozen, even beneath her piled blankets. Sitting up, her eyes adjusting to the wan light of the tavern, she ran her fingers through a mess of tangled curls, suddenly and deeply longing for a lavender scented soak and one of the soft boar brushes from Mama’s vanity.

As she looked to Esther, who in her diligence looked as if she’d slept perhaps the length of one good night in a week’s time, Merry’s lips turned into a soft pout, “Essie… If you insist on watching over me like some sort of secret fairy queen, you really ought to get some sleep during my watches, nevermind I ought to have a watch. Else you’ll fall apart on me faster than Meryl Ludnyk’s girdle after her ninth cherry plum tart at one of Aunt Stephanie’s parties. It’s not proper you should fret so… Don’t you know? I’ve the best guardian there’s ever been. It’s shameful how you make me worry. I know I’m no great warrior or scholar, but I think I can keep my eyes open long enough to tell if there’s troub--Oh, look! A boy…”

Eyes settling from her guardian to the approaching figure, Merry straightened ever so slightly, flashing a warm and pleasant smile as the brief exchange occurred, "If that wasn’t just the sweetest, ever! But it is awfully cold. Here, why don’t we… Hm.” Standing suddenly, Merry slid her arms into the sleeves of the coat that Esther had bestowed upon her, then taking the blanket, she gave it a great furl and slung it around the shoulders of the stranger, “There! Now, everyone’s warm!” And as if that had made all the sense in the world, she settled back into her seat, “I’m Merry, and this is Esther!”
 
((from @Midian))

Sigrid had had little luck in finding someone to accompany her on the fishing adventure-- mostly because even the slightest frostiness put her off before she could say much, and there was plenty of that to go around in Icewind Dale. Finally, a little dejected, she sat at an empty table and seemed to be trying to rethink her strategy as she fretted with her bosun's pipe, its polish catching the gleam of whatever meager firelight there was. Her eyes briefly strayed a half-elf woman apparently trying on someone's coat and then sort of hugging them. Abandoning her table, she approached them, making conscious effort not to touch the pipe. "Ah, none of you happen to be looking for fishing work, do you? I've sort of agreed to help a fisherman here round up a crew-- he says it pays well?"



Tali and Dannika were up a bit earlier than some of the other patrons, arising from a corner where they had shared each other's warmth in a pile of blankets that had been brought between the two of them. Though they did not depart immediately. The pair chose a table near one of the now un-shuttered windows to eat their breakfast. Their table was covered in notes, and books and they seemed to debating everything from the nature of the chawingawas' power over the weather, to how much time it would take to research the thing in the lake that Tali seemed so interested in. Anyone listening to the conversation could easily catch Tali's dismay that they could neither convince anyone to take someone aboard who would be no help fishing, nor take a notebook out to gather notes.

The Lake mystery seemed to catch the majority of their attention as Dannika had seemed satisfied that at least a few people were willing to keep an eye out for the sprite sized elemental creatures. "Remind me to give them the lantern if it seems they're going to leave town." she stated at one point.

Tali seemed not to hear her as something out the window caught their attention, "Hang on, where is Grynsk off to in such an impatient mood? He's clearly still half drunk. If he goes out onto the water like that...!"

Tali was out of their seat a moment later, rushing for the door and nearly knocking into the table where Shula and Sylva were sharing their breakfast.

"Tali, wait!" Dannika called after, looking embarrassed when half the tavern turned to look at the commotion. "Grynsk is heading for the Stones tavern not the lake...."
The half-elven woman sighed and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
 

“Where is she going in such a hurry?”

The question, which was really more of an eloquent groan came from the pile of tattered rags and alcohol fumes that was Sylva. The damp rag provided by her bed partner had taken the edge off of the previous night’s revenge.

The half-elf still felt like a miniature Goliath was hammering a war beat on the inside of her skull and a witch was using her stomach as their caldron, but the sensations had lessened a little. Lessened enough that a small part of her mind was able to take an interest in the world around her once more. The woman who had not quite blackmailed her into doing their bidding rushing off into the snow was certainly interesting.

“If a sailor can’t go to sea half drunk then they are better drowned anyway so why worry?”

Twisting her head so she had a sideways view of Dannika’s back and the open doorways, Sylva shut her eyes and basked in the strangely soothing feeling of the bitingly cold air on her face. Distracted and hungover, the half-elf failed to notice as a battered rectangle of pot metal attached to a cheap cord that hung around her neck slipped from the folds of her clothes and onto the table. From any angle the letters stamped into the metal were visible and it wouldn't take a high wizard to work out what they meant.

SYLVA.​

 
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@Midian @The Wanderer
As he stumbled through the doors of the Stones Tavern, cold nipping at his body, he pushed the thought of the cold away and focused on the task at hand-finding something to do for this long night. He pulled his gloves off, stowing them in his inner cloak. His eyes danced across the tavern, looking for signs of distress. There was the typical drunkard, body splayed out over a table in a dark corner-”Ah, he’ll be fine. Nothing a good nap can’t fix” he thought as he rubbed his beard in thought.

His eyes landed on a girl in stone colored robes, with cream accents and a sort of worried look to her face. “Maybe-maybe I should pray first?” He kneeled down, offering up a quick prayer for Kelemvor to steel his nerves. A sort of comfort came just from the act of praying, like a form of meditation for him, a way to shut out all the sensory inputs and just focus on himself and his thoughts.

He made his way across the tavern, casting a quick spell over himself to clean his cloak of the snowy dust left from outside, infusing a bit of soft undertones of firewood into the fabric to make it smell less like the outdoors. He tapped her on the shoulder with a bit of magic, summoning an ethereal hand and then unsummoning it as quick as he had made it. “Um, hello. You look a little distressed. Did you-did you need help?”

She yelped and bounced a few inches back, twisting in a cloud of robe to see who’d tapped her on the shoulder. A gloved hand instinctively went to her chest and she exhaled as he finished speaking.
“Oh-- well-- I guess who doesn’t here? But-- yeah, I-- I sort of promised a fisherman that I’d help him find some people to catch fish for him but I’m not exactly sure how to rope anyone into this and I don’t really want to go on the water alone since it looks a bit--”

She took a breath.
“Sorry-- I’m striking out trying to find fishers. Don’t suppose you know anyone?”

Despite the slight shadow of her hood, which remained pulled firmly over her head, her eyes darted restlessly all over him, taking in every detail she could possibly ascertain.

“Fishers, you say? I-I may know a few. I wonder if he’s looking for that fish. You’ve got a good head on ya’ if you’ve already realized those waters are dangerous. But yes, I know a few.” He began to think back, but one specific individual kept coming to mind.

“Oh-- so there’s a specific one, then?” she asked, tilting her head and stepping a little closer to give someone passing behind her a wider berth.

“And water is generally dangerous-- but water topped with ice is especially rough. I’d hate to see a single sai-- fisherman go alone. Exactly how dangerous do you think this fish might be, if it’s really that one he’s after?”

“I mean, it’s like, big. Like, real massive, big as a few tables. Probably got some nasty teeth, big fins, the whole kit-but no one has really seen it. That ice is nasty-had to bring a fisherman out of the ice earlier today on my way back from the nearby town…” He looked to the strange watch on his hand, spacing out as his eyes followed the hour hand to the eight. “Every time, every damn time I look at that watch…”

“Sorry, sorry, spaced out. I know someone here that would love to help, and I think I could be of great assistance to you as well, if you’d have me. Though if I am right about the big fish being his target, I think we’ll need some muscle, seeing as I and the person I’m thinking of have none.” He chuckled as he tried to break the ice.

Sigrid’s eyes flashed to the watch and his face briefly, biting her chapped lower lip. “Muscle is important-- especially if the fish is that big. Who are you thinking?

“So, there’s this half-elf, their name is Tali. They have done a lot of research on this fish-I think they’d be of use to us. Not quite sure where they are though...maybe we should wait around to see if anyone with muscle comes in, and we might get lucky and see her too.”

“To be truthful, I’m not sure how much longer our dwarven fisherman friend will wait-- I think the drink’s doing him as poorly this morning as it did him well last night. There was someone giving up their cloak a minute ago, they might be at least amenable to being helpful to us too.”

She sighed and rubbed one eye, pressing against the dark crescent under it.
“I hate asking-- but should we go talk to them and see if they’d agree to help?”

She tugged her cloak a little tighter around her, and then started a little.
“Oh-- I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m sorry, that was so rude of me-- I’m Sigrid.”

“I also failed to introduce myself. I am Kutolo...son of Ronan.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or feel proud. His eyes became glassy for a moment before he continued to speak, “But yes let us go speak to this one who gave up the cloak.”

“Nice to meet you, Kutolo-- son of Ronan.”

Sigrid approached the human man who’d spoken of Bahamut and gave a very small bow to the group.

“We’re looking for potential fishers-- for pay. I was hoping some of you m-might be interested?”
She looked to Kutolo as if to ask for backup.

“A lot of pay.” Kutolo cast a spell to make an illusory pile of silver in his palm. “It’ll be like this, but real.”
 
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Jon Jon
In the Stones Tavern


Jon Jon bowed his head when the charge of the lady wrapped a blanket around him. "It is nice to meet you both, I am called Jon Jon." He thought long and hard as to commit the two names to memory, as Jon Jon had great difficulty in remembering stuff, taking extra time for the task.

"I am sorry if I forget, my brain is not so good." He said to them, as to avoid offending them in the future if he forgot their names. Sleeping with ease til the cold night ended and daylight ebbed it's way to the tavern they were in, cold wind still present. Jon Jon would be roused from his sleep when activity in the tavern picked up, the smell of food filling his nose as he awoke.

Putting the blanket back onto the two he had talked to, Jon Jon stood up and stretched his limbs. Popping a bone or two as stiffness from the cold and awkward sleeping position settled in his body. Just before he could offer to get the pair some breakfast with the meager coins he had, they were approached by a small group. Talks of fish and payment was the main topic of the conversation, which made Jon Jon confused and utterly confounded. Now he wasn't smart, not by a long shot. Most could say that eggs were smarter than Jon Jon, but the concept of this legendary fish being worth only a few silver made him tilt his head, his face showing extreme confusion.

"If fish is big, why worth so little?" He was confused and curious about it, and was wondering if there was more to it.

@Elle Joyner @Sail @Falcon