Chapter 1 - The First Day of Pelor's Rest

[Butchern]

The caravaners entered the Blizzard through a small anteroom at the end of the building. The floor there was covered in sopping wet furs to help collect the snow and ice from traveler boots. With the door shut behind them, the warmth of the inn invaded the anteroom as did the smell of bread and beer and the noise of conversation.

The Blizzard was a stout two-story building with a great hearth on its south side and a bar on its north. The middle of the main room of the Blizzard stretched up to the second story ceiling. From the ground floor, the travelers could see up to the second floor which boasted six large rooms that opened onto a railed walkway that allowed a view of the common room below.

A half-dozen tables set in front of the hearth, and they were occupied by townsfolk (by the look of them), mostly men, who chatted and drank. The chattering stopped momentarily, but not so long as to be rude, when the caravaners entered the bar and then quickly resumed.

The man at the bar looked as though he might have some giant blood in him. He was as wide as he was tall, and that was saying something. He was bald with a short, neatly-trimmed beard and hands so large he looked like he could strangle a horse. But his gentle eyes and hearty laugh told the travelers that all horses were safe in his presence.

"Tore's my name!" he bellowed when the caravaners approached the bar. "Welcome to the Blizzard."

On 11/30/2023 at 11:40 PM, SirLoganofGilead said:

"Please tell me you have rooms, and something hot to eat. We have a group that his been stuck out in this storm."

"I do! We have six rooms, but one of them is occupied. If we need more rooms, me and the serving girls can sleep in front of the hearth, and you can have our rooms. I see four of you here," Tore counted Gert, Aron, Darin, and Linnell. The merchant Darin and his wife Linnell hadn't spoken since they set out from the caravan into the blizzard. The middle-aged couple were too busy trying not to freeze to death. "Those two clearly go together," Tore laughed. Darin had his arm around his wife and was trying to warm her with his cloak. "So, three rooms then? Or are there more of you?"

22 hours ago, Caystodd said:

"I'll send the stable boy."

"Five rooms it is," Tore said after Gert explained their number. Then Tore bellowed out over the noise of the crowd. "Gilly!"

One of the serving girls appeared from the storeroom on the east side of the building. "Yes'um?" She yelled back without looking over to the bar. Gilly was tall, busty, and redheaded, a woman of the north. She was well old enough to be married but still fresh-faced and youthful. She was carrying a large stack of wood in her arms.

"Guests at the stables!"

"Yes'um!" Gilly plodded over to the hearth and dumped the wood on the metal grate. She then fetched her cloak from the hook on the wall by the door and out into the snow she went.

"Clara!" Tore bellowed again. A smaller, younger girl looked up from the tray she was serving at one of the tables. "Yes, sir?"

Clara could barely be heard over the noise of the crowd. She had olive skin, raven hair, and delicate features. Her hair was loosely wrapped in a scarlet scarf. Not a woman of the north in any way.

"Get all the empty rooms ready! We have guests for the week."

"Yes, sir!"

~~~

Gert appeared at the stables with a lantern and a hair full of snow. Once she was under cover, she shook herself off like a wet dog.

"Welcome to th' Blizzard," she said as though she had said it a hundred times . . . because she probably had. Then she quickly began to help Celeg and Seresse get the horses squared away. "We're gettin' yer rooms ready now. Supper's in about an hour if'n you're hungry."

Edited December 3, 2023 by Butchern (see edit history)

[Caystodd]

Gert stepped back from the bar and had a look around the interior of the inn. She was in a new place in a part of the world where she had never been. They were alive and safe and warm, so it was time to see what this place had to offer.

”You should try everything at least once,” was the motto she lived by. What was here to try?

[Butchern]

As Gert surveyed the room, four things immediately presented themselves as possible points of interest.

First, the stonework of the hearth looked old, older than the inn, but how old she could not say. Perhaps the inn had been built around the ancient hearth long ago. Above the hearth on the stonework of the chimney, hooks had been hammered into the stone. Various curiosities hung on those hooks: a battered sword, a dried bouquet of flowers, an aging and rotted sign from when the Blizzard was young. What caught Gert's eye however was the silver chain that hung from one of the hooks. The chain ended in what looked like a human toe, but it was clearly far too large for a human toe. It was bigger than a man's fist.

Second, a massive piece of slate hung from the wall behind the bar. On that slate, someone with a pretty, looping script had written in chalk the inn's menu: food, drinks, all of it. One item in particular, however, stood out to Gert. It was a drink entitled Snow Blindness, and beside it was sketched an ancient dwarven rune. Gert recognized it "Norägthaz," the Dward rune for danger.

Third, several animal trophies were mounted throughout the common room of the Blizzard. Most of them were mundane enough, though quite impressive specimens. But one of the trophies was the head of a rabbit that was as large as a horse's head! It's fur was snow white and it sported two large antlers growing out of its head. Gert had never seen anything like it.

Fourth, it was not a thing that caught Gert's eye but a person—the girl named Clara. She was young, younger than Gilly, but still of a marriageable age, in the North at least. As she passed by the bar to head up to the rooms to be sure they were ready, the scarf she wore started to slip. She quickly righted it, but when she did Gert noticed the spots on the back of the girl's neck and behind her ears that rose up into small dark ridges, almost like scales. The girl had covered them well with her hair and with the scarf, but Gert saw them. This girl was a Tiefling, one of the mortal races that had an infernal ancestor. Tieflings were incredibly rare in most of the kingdoms, and in the Middle Kingdom their very presence was outlawed.

Edited December 3, 2023 by Butchern (see edit history)

[matt_s]

On 12/3/2023 at 6:24 AM, Butchern said:

"Yes'um!" Gilly plodded over to the hearth and dumped the wood on the metal grate. She then fetched her cloak from the hook on the wall by the door and out into the snow she went.

Celeg raised a gloved hand in greeting as Gilly opened the wooden door to the grating of icy hinges and stepped into the stables.

Thank you for coming, I think we have everything in order but let me check with you to make sure we aren't making a mess of how you handle things here. Honestly, and if you work with horses I figure you know this full well as much as I do, there's a meditative calmness to this type of work, a sort of unwinding at the end of a long journey.

He paused, then ran through the logistics of the situation with her and finished with a compliment, genuine in word and meaning, about the state of the place.

[Caystodd]

On 12/3/2023 at 1:28 PM, Butchern said:

It was a drink entitled Snow Blindness, and beside it was sketched an ancient dwarven rune. Gert recognized it "Norägthaz," the Dward rune for danger.

Gert leaned against the bar and asked Tore, "What's in a Snow Blindness? I've never heard of it?" As he answered she watched the tiefling girl climb the stairs.

[Blue Firebird]

On 12/2/2023 at 4:21 PM, matt_s said:

Celeg rummaged through his saddlebag and retrieved two apples, both bruised and the sort that self respecting orchard keepers would not be willing to even offer at market. He judged them for a moment, and gave the larger and more wholesome one to his horse who munched away in silent appreciation. With a plaintive stare one of the draft horse eyed Celeg as well. With a sigh, he held out the second apple for that horse. I'll be getting a hot meal soon enough anyways, I suppose he thought to himself.

As he busied himself with the associated labor of tending to the horses, he said to Seresse without looking,

You know, you are alive, in the sense that matters. Life ain't about hot flesh and blood, it's about, well I can't quite say for certain, but you are living nonetheless. Your business is your own, but if you need a small dose of consolation, well there you have it.

 

Seresse feels the same as Celeg does: there is a sort of blessed peace to rote actions like stabling the horses. She strokes the forehead of one, a big silver-maned beast, the eldest of them, but still hale. Wisdom shines in her eyes, a sense of earned peace that Seresse both respects and envies.

When Celeg, who knew more than most about her "condition," says his piece, Sera freezes with her hand resting between the silver horse's eyes. In another time, another life, she might tear up at the sentiment. Now, she cannot. She wants to, but the feelings won't come. Tears won't come. Not anymore.

"I...walk." She hesitates at first, having talked with so few about it, and certainly not so plainly. "I can speak. I do not know if I can feel anymore. Once, I loved animals such as these. The green and growing things. Nature was my home. To walk under the stars, under the sunrise, then it felt as if I knew what life was about." The Elf falls silent and pats the horse's head gently. A heavy air of contemplation surrounds her. At last, she ventures an impossible question.

"Do you think that a mistake, even a—"

On 12/3/2023 at 3:24 AM, Butchern said:

Gert Gilly appeared at the stables with a lantern and a hair full of snow. Once she was under cover, she shook herself off like a wet dog.

"Welcome to th' Blizzard," she said as though she had said it a hundred times . . . because she probably had. Then she quickly began to help Celeg and Seresse get the horses squared away. "We're gettin' yer rooms ready now. Supper's in about an hour if'n you're hungry."

The Elf stares, grateful for the hood of her cloak that obscures much of her face. Even so, her irises glow faintly in the dim light, so she tries not to stare. And fails.

Gods, she reminds me of Melisara. Think of something else. Anything else.

Trying so very desperately to think of other times she remembers feeling very alive, Seresse bows with a hand over her chest. "Your welcome is most appreciated."

15 hours ago, matt_s said:

Celeg raised a gloved hand in greeting as Gilly opened the wooden door to the grating of icy hinges and stepped into the stables.

Thank you for coming, I think we have everything in order but let me check with you to make sure we aren't making a mess of how you handle things here. Honestly, and if you work with horses I figure you know this full well as much as I do, there's a meditative calmness to this type of work, a sort of unwinding at the end of a long journey.

He paused, then ran through the logistics of the situation with her and finished with a compliment, genuine in word and meaning, about the state of the place.

Seresse offers her best smile. "Such loveliness is ill-served by the cold. Please, go in and warm up. Tell the owner that we are well-tended, thanks to you. We can...we can handle this."

Did I really just say that? I probably insulted her; she's a North-woman.

Clearly, solitude has not helped her social skills.

The Elf turns to Gilly, and in the dim light beneath her hood, the frosty glow of her eyes recalls something out of legend. Something the Northerners are all too familiar with: draugr. As she smiles, the light darkens further, like night descends on the barn for but a moment, and then passes again to day. Seresse smiles with complete, if uncertain, sincerity, yet in that dark moment, shadows make it seem more sinister than sincere.

"Not that you can't...I just mean that we are quite accustomed to it."

[Butchern]

23 hours ago, matt_s said:

He paused, then ran through the logistics of the situation with her and finished with a compliment, genuine in word and meaning, about the state of the place.

"Why thank you," Gilly said. "We normally have a boy to help with the stables, so I can't take all the honors. But his ma said he had to be home on the first day o' Pelor's Rest, so yer stuck with me."

Gilly showed Celeg where they kept the feed bag and dry blankets and pointed him to a stall that had been freshly mucked. "Best take your tack with you to your room. It will frost out here overnight.
 

19 hours ago, Blue Firebird said:

The Elf turns to Gilly, and in the dim light beneath her hood, the frosty glow of her eyes recalls something out of legend. Something the Northerners are all too familiar with: draugr. As she smiles, the light darkens further, like night descends on the barn for but a moment, and then passes again to day. Seresse smiles with complete, if uncertain, sincerity, yet in that dark moment, shadows make it seem more sinister than sincere.

"Not that you can't...I just mean that we are quite accustomed to it."

"Oh, its no trouble at all, I . . ." Gilly stopped and her mouth dropped when she caught Seresse's visage at just the wrong moment. Her face went involuntarily pale. Though it was obvious to all that she was trying to master herself, it was not clear if Gilly was trying not to fight or not to flee, but regardless, she succeeded at not fighting and decided a controlled retreat was in order. "Well, I'll leave ya' to it," she said hastily. "I have to get back." Gilly gestured in the general direction of the inn. "See the man at the bar if you need anything else." And then she hurried out the door.
 

22 hours ago, Caystodd said:

Gert leaned against the bar and asked Tore, "What's in a Snow Blindness? I've never heard of it?" As he answered she watched the tiefling girl climb the stairs.

"It's purified Blackhoard, a dwarven spirit, more than a century old," Tore explained proudly, but it was unnecessary; Gert knew what Blackhoard was. "I've distilled it a second time to purify it, and I serve it as a shot, diluted with fresh snowfall. That's so it won't kill you on the way down. It packs a punch like nothing else. With one shot, you can eat coals and spit fire. The dwarves of the north used to drink it to commune with their god. With one shot you can preach like a cleric, sing like a bard, fight like a savage, and fu-" Tore stopped himself and cleared his throat, deciding on a more polite turn of phrase. "It is said to bring out a person's . . . um . . . romantic side as well. Also the hangover is like taking a club repeatedly to the head." And Tore looked like a man who had taken more than a few blows to the head.

[matt_s]

20 hours ago, Blue Firebird said:

Once, I loved animals such as these.

Celeg offers a half smile. Judging by how you handle those horses, I reckon that you still do. Anyone can walk in the Light if they chose to do so, and I think that you have. The nastier things in the world, things that I would hesitate to give name to even under the noon sun of the Summer Solstice, we do not have to surrender to them and let them dictate how the world shall be.

Let's finish up here and go back to the Inn. I think you gave the girl a fright, but in a few minutes it's even odds that she'll convince herself it was a trick of the shadows or something like that. I won't lie to her, but if that's what she chooses to believe, I won't go to any lengths to dissuade her either.

And he will finish tending to the horses and bring the tack and such into the Inn. Celeg gives his boots a hearty kick at the threshold to dust off the snow and stable detritus from them and finds his traveling companions. He catches the tail end of Tore's pitch and exhales in response.

That's a hell of a drink. Is someone aiming to order that?

[Caystodd]

13 hours ago, Butchern said:

"With one shot, you can eat coals and spit fire. The dwarves of the north used to drink it to commune with their god. With one shot you can preach like a cleric, sing like a bard, fight like a savage, and fu-" Tore stopped himself and cleared his throat, deciding on a more polite turn of phrase. "It is said to bring out a person's . . . um . . . romantic side as well. Also the hangover is like taking a club repeatedly to the head."

The more Tore talked, the more Gert's face lit up. "Sounds extraordinary." She glanced back up the stairs to the rooms above, calculating that if worst-came-to-worst, she could drag herself (or be dragged) up to her room to sleep it off.

12 hours ago, matt_s said:

That's a hell of a drink. Is someone aiming to order that?

"Might never get a chance to drink this again," Gert said, holding up a single imperial silver coin. "This extraordinary man has a once-in-a-lifetime drink to be had. I feel like I should have it at least once." She turned back to Tore and tapped the coin on the bar. "I'll take one."

[matt_s]

Well, Celeg did not exactly think downing that was a bad idea, but he'd seen many bad ideas in his youth, the latter chunk of that spent as one of many squires with little serious adult supervision and ready access to a wondrous array of hard drink and pointy objects. Couldn't grudge Gert a drink and Tore had warned her, after all. He checked in on the other travelers, who seemed a bit chilled but otherwise no worse for wear. Celeg then pulled up a stool at the bar, orders a pint of whatever's easy drink and local - not the Snow Blindness, Pelor Forbid, and asks Tore,

I saw the Giant's Toe and the skull of the ... Dire Rabbit? Now I've seen a lot of things and heard tell of quite a few more but I do say that while legends of Giant's and the like there has been testament of if in legend, I have never even borne witness to an account or tale of a Rabbit such as that one. It's cold outside and warm in here, I do believe I have time to listen if you've the time to tell.

Oh, and I almost forgot to ask - got any festivities planned, and any room for a few more guests? It's been a hard road, and it would be good for spirits. I can lend a hand, and if Gert can act coherently through whatever hangover that drink gives her tomorrow, I'll volunteer her as well.

Edited December 7, 2023 by matt_s
"oh and i almost forgot to ask" (see edit history)

[Blue Firebird]

On 12/5/2023 at 5:38 PM, Butchern said:

"Why thank you," Gilly said. "We normally have a boy to help with the stables, so I can't take all the honors. But his ma said he had to be home on the first day o' Pelor's Rest, so yer stuck with me."

Gilly showed Celeg where they kept the feed bag and dry blankets and pointed him to a stall that had been freshly mucked. "Best take your tack with you to your room. It will frost out here overnight.
 

"Oh, its no trouble at all, I . . ." Gilly stopped and her mouth dropped when she caught Seresse's visage at just the wrong moment. Her face went involuntarily pale. Though it was obvious to all that she was trying to master herself, it was not clear if Gilly was trying not to fight or not to flee, but regardless, she succeeded at not fighting and decided a controlled retreat was in order. "Well, I'll leave ya' to it," she said hastily. "I have to get back." Gilly gestured in the general direction of the inn. "See the man at the bar if you need anything else." And then she hurried out the door.

Seresse, encouraged by memories of a happier time, laughed at a little at her "stuck with me" bit. She makes up her mind to say something more, to ask Gilly about herself, when she sees the change in her demeanor. The clues are not hard to read. Her heart, such as it is, sinks into a sickly cold mire. One of the few feelings not dulled by her condition, it seems, is recognizing when you repulse someone. She lifts a hand a little by reflex, as if to reach after Gilly as she hurries away, but lets it fall again, defeated.

On 12/5/2023 at 6:03 PM, matt_s said:

Celeg offers a half smile. Judging by how you handle those horses, I reckon that you still do. Anyone can walk in the Light if they chose to do so, and I think that you have. The nastier things in the world, things that I would hesitate to give name to even under the noon sun of the Summer Solstice, we do not have to surrender to them and let them dictate how the world shall be.

Let's finish up here and go back to the Inn. I think you gave the girl a fright, but in a few minutes it's even odds that she'll convince herself it was a trick of the shadows or something like that. I won't lie to her, but if that's what she chooses to believe, I won't go to any lengths to dissuade her either.

And he will finish tending to the horses and bring the tack and such into the Inn. Celeg gives his boots a hearty kick at the threshold to dust off the snow and stable detritus from them and finds his traveling companions. He catches the tail end of Tore's pitch and exhales in response.

That's a hell of a drink. Is someone aiming to order that?

Celeg's kindness cuts through the gloom in some small way, like a shaft of light peeking through a crack in the dim stable. "Thank you. I am not sure that the 'Light' would have me, or what I deserve. I made a mistake—many mistakes, really, but one in particular haunts me." She draws in a breath and sighs, out of habit rather than the need to breathe. "Now I cannot even smile at a pretty girl without...oh, forget it. Your kindness is appreciated." The Elf pats her horse a few more times. The horse snorts in recognition of affection, even if it, too, is uncomfortable around her. Perhaps not all of that Elven affinity with nature has gone....

Seresse accompanies him through the snow to the inn. "We will see what she believes and what she tells the others. You know that I may need to 'sleep' elsewhere. So be it."

Like most light-footed Elves, she walks atop the snow, leaving little in the way of tracks and only a few flakes to remove with a light tap of her toes at the threshold. The inn is every bit as welcoming and comforting as she could hope, but Seresse feels eyes on her the moment she steps through—real or imagined. Desperate to change the focus of scrutiny, she draws her hood in a little closer, and watches as Gert challenges something they call "Snow Blindness." She gives a few quick, nervous glances about the room, her curiosity mirroring Celeg's. What kind of rabbit is that?

[Butchern]

On 12/6/2023 at 9:03 PM, matt_s said:

I do believe I have time to listen if you've the time to tell.

Tore nodded and smiled. These were stories he liked to tell apparently. "The giant's toe is mine. When I was a younger man, a hill giant lived up in the hills about ten miles north of here. One day, he got mind to come to town to get up to no good. I told him he needed to go home. We fought. I landed a few solid blows, as did he. But when I took his toe with my blade, he turned and headed back to the hills. He hasn't been back to town since, but, occasionally, folks around here see him in the distance or see signs of his passing. They used to say he had quite a little treasure horde up there in his cave. Taken from caravans and other travelers in the north. No one ever had the nerve to go look. I left town shortly after my victory for a life of adventure. Fought in the south for decades. I've only been back in the north for about seven years now. I'm too old to fight giants these days.

"The rabbit skull was a gift to the previous owner. It was from the last dwarven mining party to leave the old keep and abandon the mine to the east of here, over across the river. They call those dire rabbits Ettak in dwarven. So the previous owner said. He might have been pulling my leg. I've never seen anything like them either. If they do exist, those pelts would be worth a fortune. No one has ever seen one though, not that I've heard tell."
 

On 12/6/2023 at 9:53 AM, Caystodd said:

"I'll take one."

"Well, we normally don't serve but one a night anymore. Last year this time, the entire Brewer clan took shots, and they about burned the inn down. And it ain't even supper yet, but . . ." He was shaking his head "no," but he was looking at the coin she was tapping on the bar. "What could it hurt I guess?"

Tore crouched down behind the bar to get something that was stored one one of the low shelves. His massive bulk was still visible above the bar, even stooped down. The caravaners heard the sound of jingling keys, then some clicks, then a creak. Tore stood up with an ornate dwarven glass-and-metal flask. A dark red liquid was contained within. He set it down on the bar and yelled, "Clara! Gilly! One of you fetch me some fresh snow."

"Yes 'em!" Gilly called from somewhere in the back, and a door slammed.

With Tore's call for fresh snow, the inn went silent. People were turning in their chairs to look at the bar and were craning their necks to see what they hoped they might see: The flask.

"Well this ought to be good," someone murmured.

"Snow Blindness," someone else whispered.

Gilly returned with a ladle full of fresh snow. Tore popped the cork from the flask and black smoke rose up from the liquid inside. It smelled like oranges and medicine. Tore produced a shot glass, filled it with snow, and then slowly poured the smoking liquid over the snow. Some of the old timers in the inn stood out of respect for Tore, the flask, and whichever of the caravaners was about to down the Snow Blindness. The liquid melted the snow, leaving a shot glass about half full of a pink liquid. It had stopped smoking.

Tore pushed the glass toward Gert and took her coin. "Best do it all in one go. That's how it's done at any rate."

[Caystodd]

Gert lifted the glass to her nose and looked intently at the liquid. She wanted to remember it. Then she sniffed it and made a face. It burned her nose.

"To new experiences!"

Gert downed the shot like a prow and slammed the empty glass onto the bar.

"Ervensh!" she coughed. It was the ancient Dardrain equivalent of "Huzzah!"

[matt_s]

2 hours ago, Butchern said:

It was from the last dwarven mining party to leave the old keep and abandon the mine to the east of here, over across the river.

Celeg listened attentively and this bit caught his ear. What drove them to abandon the keep and mine? The seams run out or some more unpleasant fortune? I am no trapper or hunter but one of those rabbits in the flesh would be a heck of a sight.

And that giant, he's a nasty customer I take it? Robbing travelers is no small thing and he could make another pass at raiding the town. Squaring down with a giant and living to tell the tale, that is no small accomplishment on your part. I'd rather not see bloodshed needlessly but sometimes it has to be done.

Celeg turns to watch Gert's "adventure" with the drink. His eyes widened as the theatrics mounted and his traveling companion downed the concoction.

Edited December 9, 2023 by matt_s
clarity (see edit history)

[SirLoganofGilead]

Aron had been quiet over the last few minutes, his mind and eyes had been busy. He had looked out over the people in the Inn to see if any of them looked like officials. He hadn't seen anyone who looked like they were looking for someone, still, he checked a second time. He also had very little interest in anything drink-related. He had never been a big drinker, and unlike others, the military had pushed him away from it. Many soldiers enjoyed too much drink at night, and Aron had grown tired of their shenanigans.

He had listened to Tore's other stories, and the giant had caught a bit of his interest, slaying the local giant might earn him a permanent loyalty. He was still nervous about the sheriff, but at some point, he would have to stop moving and settle somewhere. This place seemed remote enough. He decided to ask Tore a bit about the town. "If someone were interested what's this town like for a person looking to settle? Are any places available? I've been traveling north looking for the right place, any chance this one is open to new people?"