Chapter 1 - The First Day of Pelor's Rest

[Blue Firebird]

18 hours ago, Butchern said:

"No!" Gilly said hastily. Then, more calmly. "No, thank you. I'm not allowed to drink on the job." Then she hurried off to busy herself with work.

Seresse isn't blind. Nor is she heartless. If she was, how could such as this hurt? Yet hurt it does, a cold, sinking disappointment in her chest. She sighs a frosty sigh but doesn't inhale afterward, watching Gilly flee to the comfort of familiarity.

 

I make one bad decision, and still it haunts me. Always it haunts me. Her head hangs a little in bitterness. She has nearly decided to return to the caravan, make sure they are safe, and perhaps wander into the bli—

 

BAM! THUD! goes the door, startling her from her disappointment.

18 hours ago, Butchern said:

The front door flew open. Someone in the storm had tried to open the door, but the wind caught the door, wrenched it out of his hand, and slammed the door open so hard that the undead jakalope trophy that hung on the same wall fell from its hook and crashed to the ground. Every eye in the inn (except Gert's) turned to the cause of the ruckus.

"Mr. Mayor!" Tore shouted and rushed out from behind the bar to help the man wrestle the door shut against the wind.

"Hello!" the Mayor called out to the inn once the door was shut.

"Hello!" the inn patrons called back.

The Mayor was covered in snow and was wrapped head to toe in furs. Only his big nose stuck out prominently enough to see.

"Mae l'ovannen," Seresse says in turn, bowing as is the Elvish custom. "Well met." She feels awkward. Here is perhaps the most important figure in Redbark. Better perhaps to introduce herself, find some work, some way to alleviate the melancholy. First, drawn by curiosity, she picks up the trophy and gives it a closer look before hanging it back up on the wall. "The wind grows fierce but at least the fire is warm. You look like someone in need of a hot drink."

[matt_s]

CRASH! The clatter of the trophy and the accompanying arrival of the Mayor (or was it the other way around, it had been a long day for ol' Celeg and in thinking himself "ol' " he knew that surely must be the case) torn the Knight's attention from the bar.

Name's Celeg, I'm actually from the town just a bit further down the line. A bit of a homecoming for me, but the last measure of it is prevented by all this. But I must thank you in earnestness for the hospitality of the town. From the moment we met Reder, Henry, and Gilew, we've been given a warm welcome. Speaks well of them, of you, and the town. We were just sitting down to dinner cooked by Tore , Clara, and Gilly, and I'd be honored if you would join us.

But where was Gert? An anxious look about the tavern yielded nothing. Some vague sounds of commotion from the kitchens indicated her most likely course, but he was occupied here, and besides, Celeg was somewhat sure the townsfolk would prevent her from getting into too much trouble.

[Caystodd]

On 12/19/2023 at 2:45 PM, Butchern said:

"Can I help you?" she said timidly, holding the pot aloft mid-pour.

Gert slammed the kitchen door behind her though she hadn't intended to.

"Gert Bell," she said. "I am a member of the Royal Naturalist and Cartography Society." She barely got the words out and then swayed against the door. Gert's eyes blinked hard several times. "Apprentice. And you...." Gert lowered her voice and leaned toward Clara as if she was divulging the most important secret in the world. "And you are a Tiefling, a demon spawn. I saw your spots." Gert swayed and closed her eyes. Then she jerked them open again and took a deep breath. "And I think that's really neat."

[Butchern]

On 12/19/2023 at 5:55 PM, Blue Firebird said:

"Mae l'ovannen," Seresse says in turn, bowing as is the Elvish custom. "Well met." She feels awkward. Here is perhaps the most important figure in Redbark. Better perhaps to introduce herself, find some work, some way to alleviate the melancholy. First, drawn by curiosity, she picks up the trophy and gives it a closer look before hanging it back up on the wall. "The wind grows fierce but at least the fire is warm. You look like someone in need of a hot drink."

"Uh, yes. Well met," the mayor said. He clearly did not speak Elvish and felt a little at a disadvantage. "Good evening to you." He gave Seresse a double-take. He hadn't seen many elves before, but he was pretty sure they didn't normally look that pale. But he seemed to take it all in stride.

The trophy did not break when it hit the ground. The antlers remained intact. The whole thing felt cold to the touch, and it took some time before the cold faded from Seresse's fingers after she let go of it.

 

On 12/19/2023 at 9:56 PM, matt_s said:

Name's Celeg, I'm actually from the town just a bit further down the line. A bit of a homecoming for me, but the last measure of it is prevented by all this. But I must thank you in earnestness for the hospitality of the town. From the moment we met Reder, Henry, and Gilew, we've been given a warm welcome. Speaks well of them, of you, and the town. We were just sitting down to dinner cooked by Tore , Clara, and Gilly, and I'd be honored if you would join us.

"Good evening to you," he repeated in Celeg and Aron's direction as he began to peel off the snow-covered furs. The hat and coat came off to reveal a bald middle-aged man with red cheeks and bushy eyebrows. He was thin but not too thin and a little on the short side.

"Thank you, all, but I'm not here for dinner. If I came home without an appetite, my wife would clobber me. But I am here for you. I'm the Mayor of Redbark, Harald Fry. I heard that there were visitors in town, something about a caravan getting stuck, and I knew I had to see you for myself. To welcome you and all that." He bowed a little himself this time. "We don't get many visitors this time of year, though, to be fair, the snows started up about a month early this year. The road north and the east-west way are both clear of snow in Pelor's month. Usually. There are, uh, five of you then?" He was counting Celeg, Seresse, Darin and Linnell, and Aron.

"Stay for a drink, Harald," Tore interrupted.

"Just a quick one wouldn't hurt, I suppose," the Mayor said. He smiled and looked from Seresse to Celeg. "Shall we?" He gestured back to the bar. "What brings you to the north then?"
 

2 hours ago, Caystodd said:

"And you are a Tiefling, a demon spawn. I saw your spots." Gert swayed and closed her eyes. Then she jerked them open again and took a deep breath. "And I think that's really neat."

Clara lowered the pot slowly onto the counter. Her face had gone from surprise to fear at being called "demon spawn" to . . . something not unlike annoyance.

"You took the Snow Blindness, didn't you?" she sighed. "The drink is clouding your judgment, Miss. I don't have spots." She involuntarily reached up and adjusted her head scarf to make sure it was in place. "And I'm not a . . . what did you call me? A teef-ling? Whatever that is. You should go back to the bar. Patrons aren't allowed back here, and I have work to do."

[SirLoganofGilead]

Aron looked up as the loud door banged, but he had stayed in place at first. He wanted to get some measure of this man before he introduced himself, wanted to see how much he would have to hide. He was more worried that the mayor had come looking particularly for THEM, he hoped the sheriff hadn't alerted the man that there was a deserter in their midst. He could feel his cheeks flush a bit as he made his way awkwardly to the mayor to respond to his introduction. "Pleasure to meet you as well Mr. Mayor. My name is Aron. Do you always come in person to check on new visitors or only ones that show up in this weather?" He did his best to smile amiably as he said the line, hoping it would come off as mostly joking.

[matt_s]

21 hours ago, Butchern said:

There are, uh, five of you then?"

Another look briefly around the common room, still no Gert.

Celeg sighed, and clarified for the Mayor. There are six of us, the last of that number, Gert, is off somewhere at the moment. I'm sure she'll turn up at some point.

Gert downing the Snow Blindness was not a secret - she had done so in the front of the whole dang tavern - but not how he wanted to introduce his traveling companion to the local big man.

21 hours ago, Butchern said:

"Just a quick one wouldn't hurt, I suppose," the Mayor said. He smiled and looked from Seresse to Celeg. "Shall we?" He gestured back to the bar. "What brings you to the north then?"

Celeg sipped now and again from his mug of beer perched at the bar alongside the Mayor. Nothing too special, a story you've doubtless heard time and again in various forms. I am a Knight sworn to the patron of these Holy days, Pelor, and as of recently I have been taken to wanderings - well, travels or journeys more like it - on my own across the realm. But home calls me, as it calls to everyone who has been on the road for too long. And home is near here, and here I have come.

A nod to Tore, and he adds,

We've been shootin' the breeze about the town and surroundings for a bit. Tore tells us about the ol' mine the dwarves used to run and rumors about it, and the rumors seems like they just are that, rumors. But then again there might be more to it. Way I see it, every rumor starts with a grain of truth, only some grains are a lot bigger than others.

Oh, as mayor, what is your favorite part of the Festivities this time of year?

[Blue Firebird]

21 hours ago, Butchern said:

"Uh, yes. Well met," the mayor said. He clearly did not speak Elvish and felt a little at a disadvantage. "Good evening to you." He gave Seresse a double-take. He hadn't seen many elves before, but he was pretty sure they didn't normally look that pale. But he seemed to take it all in stride.

The trophy did not break when it hit the ground. The antlers remained intact. The whole thing felt cold to the touch, and it took some time before the cold faded from Seresse's fingers after she let go of it.

Seresse chews her lip as she ponders that feeling. Familiar, yes, and still alien. She can, with some effort, still remember the feel of the sun on her skin. Will that fade entirely one day? Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. If the memory of her fades with them, then so be it. A price worth paying.

So she tells herself. Easier than trying to block out the voice.

Sera, what do I do? What's it going to do to me?

"Nothing," she whispers, the next line in her little tragedy playing out on her lips. A conversation she's had with her own memory a thousand times since that day. Since she took the curse meant for—

On 12/20/2023 at 7:29 PM, Butchern said:

"Thank you, all, but I'm not here for dinner. If I came home without an appetite, my wife would clobber me. But I am here for you. I'm the Mayor of Redbark, Harald Fry. I heard that there were visitors in town, something about a caravan getting stuck, and I knew I had to see you for myself. To welcome you and all that." He bowed a little himself this time. "We don't get many visitors this time of year, though, to be fair, the snows started up about a month early this year. The road north and the east-west way are both clear of snow in Pelor's month. Usually. There are, uh, five of you then?" He was counting Celeg, Seresse, Darin and Linnell, and Aron.

"Stay for a drink, Harald," Tore interrupted.

"Just a quick one wouldn't hurt, I suppose," the Mayor said. He smiled and looked from Seresse to Celeg. "Shall we?" He gestured back to the bar. "What brings you to the north then?"

Against her better judgment, Seresse joins him and the others at the bar, giving Celeg a nervous glance.

"Oh, you know. Pelor's Rest. You never know what you might find. Sometimes, wandering this time of year is so...enlightening." The Elf nods toward the jackalope trophy. "There is a good example."

[Caystodd]

On 12/20/2023 at 10:29 PM, Butchern said:

"You took the Snow Blindness, didn't you?" she sighed. "The drink is clouding your judgment, Miss. I don't have spots." She involuntarily reached up and adjusted her head scarf to make sure it was in place. "And I'm not a . . . what did you call me? A teef-ling? Whatever that is. You should go back to the bar. Patrons aren't allowed back here, and I have work to do."

Gert narrowed her unfocused eyes. "I drank the Snow Blindness," she confessed. "But it barely affected me." Gert swayed and caught herself. She opened her mouth to speak again and then waggled her finger at Clara. "You. I saw you. You are....I'm sure I saw....I know what I saw." Long pause, and then sadly, "You aren't a tiefling? Are you sure?"

Another long pause.

Clara shook her head. "Pretty sure."

"Fine." Gert turned to the door to head out and then quickly looked over her shoulder again as if she might see something tieflingy happening behind her. She saw nothing but a disapproving stare. "Fine," she repeated and pushed her way back out into the common room.

 

[Butchern]

On 12/21/2023 at 5:42 PM, SirLoganofGilead said:

"Pleasure to meet you as well Mr. Mayor. My name is Aron. Do you always come in person to check on new visitors or only ones that show up in this weather?" He did his best to smile amiably as he said the line, hoping it would come off as mostly joking.

"It happens so infrequently," the Mayor said laughing, "I'd be derelict in my duty if I didn't! The caravans usually pass us by on their way to the river. We don't get many visitors."

"Aron here is thinking about moving to the north. He was asking about a place to live in Redbark," Tore said.

"Was he now?" The Mayor looked Aron up and down. "Fresh blood in the town would be excellent. Let this blizzard clear, and I'll show you a plot of land that could be yours for cheap."

Then the talk turned to Pelor's Rest.

"My favorite part of the holiday?" the Mayor said. "The food of course. My wife bought a jar of molasses from a trader in the spring. She's been saving it. She makes the best molasses sweets. The cookies are my favorite. Made with ginger. Just the best."

Then to dwarves.

"I was here when the last dwarven mining tribe left. It was more than ten years ago. I wasn't Mayor then. The dwarves always kept to themselves. They did business in town, of course. We are by far the nearest settlement to the mine. But they didn't socialize. They mined. They bought supplies from us when the trading post at the river wasn't populated. And they shipped out their oars on long, flat boats that sailed down from the far north to the Middle Kingdom. They used magic in those mines for their work. I know they did. I saw one of their chiefs at the river when I was a lad. He had a massive mining pick on his back that was made of black metal. It glowed in the dark and hummed, and when I got close to him, it whispered to me in a language I couldn't understand." The Mayor shivered to shake off the old memory. "Good folk though as far as I could tell. We never had trouble with them. The previous owner of the Blizzard probably knew the last chief best. He was the one who gave him that trophy." He pointed to the jackalope head. "There's nothing in the mine now except the remains of an old keep and an abandoned mine. I've seen both of them . . . from the road. Don't believe the rumors."

Then to jackalope trophy.

"I don't know where the dwarves got that thing or why they left it with old Rufus—he's the previous owner. I would say it is some sort of farce, but there is a dwarven word for dire rabbits . . . can't think of it as the moment though. I would hate to meet one in rut."

[matt_s]

21 hours ago, Butchern said:

"My favorite part of the holiday?" the Mayor said. "The food of course. My wife bought a jar of molasses from a trader in the spring. She's been saving it. She makes the best molasses sweets. The cookies are my favorite. Made with ginger. Just the best."

Celeg smiles at this. That certainly sounds wonderful. I will have to remember to try them in the next few days.

At the talk of the dwarves, the Knight nods along. Aye, that sounds like dwarves alright. Keep to themselves which is fair enough, and honest in their dealings by all accounts. Good hearts all, that's what I can say of the dwarves I've met over the years. I can believe there's nothing there beyond what you say, although it would be interesting to take a look at what it is. Dwarven stonework is not something to miss even if gouged into the bones of the Earth for the purely commercial purpose of mining.

Celeg was still sipping away at his mug of beer when the Mayor mentioned the terror of meeting a Dire Rabbit (for that is how he thought of them now and likely still would even if he knew the dwarven name for the self-same creatures) and he nearly spat a mouthful of beer onto the bar.

[Caystodd]

Gert staggered out of the kitchen into the common room. When she saw the mayor standing there, she assumed he was someone important and straightened herself up. She walked as slowly and as soberly as possible over to the bar and sidled up beside Aron.

"Hey," she said to the mayor as soberly as she could.

"I don't think she's a demon spawn," Gert whispered. She was sure she sounded as sober as a cat. The whisper was very loud.

[Butchern]

On 12/23/2023 at 7:12 PM, matt_s said:

I can believe there's nothing there beyond what you say, although it would be interesting to take a look at what it is. Dwarven stonework is not something to miss even if gouged into the bones of the Earth for the purely commercial purpose of mining.

"If you want to brave the snow to make that trek, that's your business. It is easy enough to find if you can see your hand in front of your face. Can't say I recommend it though."

The Mayor and the caravaners made more small talk until Clara arrived at their table with wooden bowls and spoons. "Supper's almost ready," she said.

"That's my cue to go," the Mayor said. "I'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure."

Supper was served shortly. The soup was hot and savory and full of meat and potatoes and some sort of spicy green that the southerners didn't recognize, and there was as much of it as they could eat.

The inn mostly cleared out when the supper bell rang, and Tore used the few moments of peace to sit behind the bar and eat supper. The top of his head was still visible above the bar even as he sat on a low wooden crate. The caravaners watched him put away four bowls of soup almost as fast as Clara could bring them to him.

Within the hour, the inn door opened again, and in came a half-dozen or so men from the town. They were covered in snow and furs. The regulars, having had their suppers at home, were down to the Blizzard for drinks. By the time the sun—what little that could be seen of it through the clouds—was completely behind the trees, the inn was full again for the evening.

[matt_s]

On 12/26/2023 at 12:08 PM, Butchern said:

"I'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure."

Celeg thanked him in turn. Certainly, and once again I will express my gratitude for your time and the hospitality of the town. There's nothing like the kindness of strangers on a cold night, I think.

Clara, could you bring me a bowl of the soup when you have the time? It's been a long day - as I'm sure has been mentioned a time or four - and it seems like Tore at least gives it a hearty endorsement.

As Celeg hoped, the weariness of the day melted away in the evening thanks to the warm soup and good Northern beer. He briefly introduced himself to the newcomers and asked,

I hope the season finds you and yours well and you are keeping warm but then of course there's nothing like Northern furs to keep the freeze out, any old campaigner and every smart one will tell you. Any news of the town or particular festivities you are looking forward to?

[SirLoganofGilead]

On 12/22/2023 at 9:52 PM, Butchern said:

"Was he now?" The Mayor looked Aron up and down. "Fresh blood in the town would be excellent. Let this blizzard clear, and I'll show you a plot of land that could be yours for cheap."

Aron had nodded at the mayor, he was genuinely interested in learning more about the plot of land. He hoped maybe he could work off some of the price somehow, but he would deal with that as the problem came. He was incredibly eager for dinner, and probably ate a bit quicker than was polite. He enjoyed every bite and used his bread to sop up the bottom of the soup. He had a second bowl, but refrained from a third. When the meal ended Aron turned to Celeg. "Do you plan to investigate the dwarven stuff, maybe look for that giant?"

[matt_s]

13 hours ago, SirLoganofGilead said:

"Do you plan to investigate the dwarven stuff, maybe look for that giant?"

Celeg speaks quietly, the quiet of a somewhat private conversation but not the near silence of conspirators. The room was also

I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a plan to investigate, but it's always worth your while to look around and that seems a good place to look. And it is a sure wager for me to say that Seresse will second me on this matter. I will not speak on any others account for the purpose of life is to tread your own path as best you can.

I say if you aim to settle here and this is good country I add myself being a bit down the road from this selfsame place it will not hurt to see the surrounding environs.