Open Chronicles Frostfall, A Winter Holiday

[Elis Chares]

On an orchard in the plains of Allir Reach...

Howling winds blew through the snow covered trees and filled the air with freezing specs of snow that clung to anything it could touch. The hundreds of orchard trees were nothing more than white pillars. Animals who once scavenged the green plains for food had either fled to warmer climates or hibernated deep within stone and earth. Even the people hid away inside their sturdy homes and dared not step outside. There was one home in particular, a large farm house right next to the orchard that had the warm glow of light shining from its windows.

On this path through the orchard and near the house was a snow covered sign. If one took the time to brush off snow, one would find that it read, "Travelers are welcomed. Come have some food and a rest." The farmhouse ahead was a three storey building and seemed to be made of both wood and stone. Stone formed the base of the house while wood created the rest. In order to keep the inside nice and warm, a fireplace had been built into the house. Bits of smoke popped out from the chimney but was harshly blown away before it could properly form into a cloud.

Elis Chares was busily cooking inside the cozy kitchen of the farmhouse. The walls of the room were decorated in evergreens with slices of dried oranges hanging from them. The living room was right next to the kitchen with an archway separating the two rooms. The living room had two comfortable chairs, a table, a woven rug, and a fireplace nearby to keep everything warm. The door wasn't far off. Elis' grandparents were busily decorating the fireplace with small colorful glass orbs and ornaments. They had spent years gathering the decorations and making them, some even were heirlooms passed from generation to generation. They weren't too expensive either despite the materials since they had carefully bought them during times when glass and dyes were flooding the market. His grandfather and grandmother were currently debating over whether to decorate the room with more snowflakes or to save some for the guest rooms in case they had any visitors.

"I doubt anybody is gonna be here this year. Look at the snow!" The grandfather declared confidently.

"Well, we won't know till the holiday is over. Better to be prepared than caught off guard." His grandmother responded with equal confidence.

The grandfather grumbled but made his way up the stairs to the guest rooms with a handful of white wooden snowflake ornaments. The grandmother made her way over to Elis and gave the cauldron he had been stirring a good sniff. She quickly walked over to the cabinet holding some of their spices and grabbed some parsley. The old woman sprinkled some of the spice into the stew then grabbed a spoon to taste a bit. Once Elis got the nod of approval, he continued his stirring.

"Almost done." Elis said, "Grandma... are you sure its safe to let travelers come here?"

"Nothin's ever safe. Anybody who tells you its safe is probably trying to hurt you or sell somethin rotten." The grandmother explained, "Besides, if someone is gonna hurt or rob us, then they'll do it with or without an invite."

Unable to fight against his grandmother's words, he went back to his culinary work. The stew was a potato and leek with bits of bacon mixed in. The oven nearby was busy baking a fresh loaf of bread while on the counter was a honey glazed ham that they had been saving in the cellar for the holiday. His grandmother was just about to get to work on preparing the table to eat when there was a knock at the door.

 

[Arkobold]

Coin, coin. The Knights of Anathaeum, Wyld as they were, needed it. Yes. They needed it much as many folks did. To give their Syrs and Squires some bread, and beds, and arms and armor. Dutiful and valiant as they were, they all needed to be fed, clothed, and properly equipped for all the things they needed to do. Arkobold was no exception.

How else would he buy those shrooms he could not find in their forests, when their wide caps and spongey bodies appeared in the markets of lands connected to farther lands by river or sky route. What was he to do? Not buy them? Silly. Absurd. Without course and with no acceptance.

He wanted to taste all the shrumps. The mush. The shrooms. He was starting to feel as if it was his calling in life. He just had to make sure Syr Ars Propheta-Capabilis didn't find out. He was not sure how the tiny Myconid would take it. And he wasn't sure he could take the Syr in a fight. Not that he wanted to. Though he did at times wonder how he tasted.

It was these thoughts, though perhaps a bit less scattered, but even that was a gamble, that lead Arkobold the VI, of clan Rootrock, to accept the quest posted on the board, escorting one Lord Pamperdeux back to his manor and holdings far in the Allir Reach after a festivity in the Valen. Simple enough work that had been done with expedience, and little trouble.

Arkobold was sure his being part of the party had little to do with it. Even if his cold gear bundles added some inches to his overall profile. He was still rather short. And rounder rarely meant scarier. It was probably more Syrs Edwina and Sando's doing. And Squire Dal. Squire Dal was a big one.


"Gods be good, usually the ride home feels all the shorter," Syr Sando said, with a click of his tongue as their horses walked at a steady pace. "Sept this cold really saps the will out of you, don't it?" he kept his hands tighter neath the furlining of his cloak, and was glad for the thick woolen coif that hugged about his ears. Even if it made his hat fit a little funny. ​

"I'm just glad we have our horses," Edwina added as fat flakes of snow fell from the sky. "How about you, Dal?" She asked as she looked back at the squire. "How does our noble quest measure, in your most professional opinion."

Arkobold, who rode with Syr Sando, looked to Dal, his whole snout moving to regard the bigger squire.

A sharp whistle came from Syr Sando. "Up head," he said with a smile on his face. "Think that there is chimney smoke," he added as his eyes took in the white wisps of climbing vapors against the dark sky. "Might be, they fancy hosting some guests?"

Arko's mouth hung open, a small rasp of a sound came out. He was pretty sure the sign had read, Travelers are welcomed. Come have some food and a rest.

"Now, you all just let me do the talkin'," Syr Sando sai with a wink and a confident smile, before he urged his horse forward to a trot.

Arkobold yelped, and held on tight to Syr Sando as the horse's pace quickened.

 

[Baise]

"Caw!"

A raven hopped from one foot to the other on the snow-dusted sign.

"Yes, yes," came a call.

The raven flapped its wings impatiently.

"Caw!"

A second raven joined it on the sign, then a third.

A man in a bright teal coat approached the sign. He brushed away the snow with his right hand. His left arm was occupied by the young boy he was carrying.

They both wore matching coats, gloves and scarves. The boy had been huddled into his shoulder, but drew back to look at the sign.

"Are we going to visit, dad?" Jude asked.

"I was hoping we could make the town, but I believe we might go and ask for some shelter," Baise replied.

He lifted his head when he heard a whistle from ahead. Tiberius had spotted several horses earlier in the day. Given the tracks in the snow, it seemed they had also abandoned their plans to push on to the next town.

"Of course they might be full up," Baise warned. He took a step forwards the the three ravens took flight again. He gave a little jig as he shifted Jude's weight to make it more comfortable to carry him the rest of the way.

 

[Dal]

Dal removed his left mitten's detachable fingertips via a simple chord that was yanked free with a small tug of teeth, and reached for his belt, where a bag of dried ginger and flakes of spice was nestled, and chewed upon on them dully. He gave no noise as the heat radiated across his mouth. Anything to beat the cold and keep one's wits and senses. A small trick to keep morale in frost bite territory, a trick he had learned from Mountainwanderer, his goliath friend who had taught him much about the finer points of combat in the snow. Tricks such as chewing on the root of ginger and other spices to keep feeling so talking was even viable.

He small rotations of his mighty lantern jaw as he contemplated the question before him. What did he think.

He took a handkerchief that was nestled in his glove and wiped away the frost upon his face, as if it might aid communication. It certainly made him feel better. Dal had seen the effect of the frost upon his comrades in the long winter campaigns, how payment stung in the fingers and all manner of loot was disregarded, and he wasn't eager to see his fingertips turn to black. To ride a horse was a luxury all it's own to the foot soldier.

“Trudging through snow is a miserable business. Exhausting too. If you have to fight and run after marching through snow, well, forget it. Glad the horses can tread so strongly through it. We've all made our own luck by having good equipment, gear for the winter. Frostbite is no joke. And the quest is fine enough work. No-one died, no-one got injured, and we didn't get chewed out by our client. They even dressed right for the weather.”

Dal held in a sneeze and continued unphased.

“One time, I had to escort a wizard who relied on spells to stay warm. Was a point of pride for them or something. But when it came to the crunch and we had to engage? Had used up all their energies. Stood there shivering from fright as magic failed them. Pitiful business. Pitiful. They took my cloak after and had to be reminded to give it back once we got them there. Not okay.”

They reached the orchard, and Dal dismounted immediately, for he knew the jump into snow was one that was bracing and had to be delivered without hestitation to keep morale up. He went over to the sign and drew a small tent hammer from his belt, and tapped the sign. The snow departed from the shock. Better not to get gloves covered with snow if they had to continue on for whatever reason, it would render the woolen things useless to the function of warmth, Dal had reasoned by experience.

“Sign looks good for us to rest up here,” Dal reported and turned. He waited with careful eye as he didn't relax yet. Not until they were indoors. Never rest until the job is completely over, Dal thought to himself.

“Come on Syr Arkobold. Can you smell that? Soup. Bread.”

He sniffed the air a further moment. His eyes went to the treeline around them.

“Ham too. Come on. I'll tend the horses and be in short time. I just want to do a quick survey of the outside to see if it's safe. Pretty sure it is but. Never know.”

 

[Elis Chares]

The grandmother opened the door but didn't see anybody. Just as the old lady was about to assume it was nothing more than the wind, she spotted a group of people through the snow. There were at least four people she could spot. Syr Sando, Arkobold, Edwina, and Dal were the people she had seen.

"We got guests Henry! And they got horses!" She hollered to her husband.

"I'm coming hold your horses Amber!" The old man hollered back.

Henry made his way down the stairs, put on a heavy warm coat and began walking out into the snow to greet the guests. Meanwhile the old woman began gathering up some blankets and ordering Elis to prepare some warm tea for the travelers. Elis moved the cauldron from the fireplace and safely onto the stone floor to keep it from burning. Then he moved the kettle in and started boiling some water. Meanwhile Henry, holding a lantern, had made his way to the guests and their horses, trudging through the thick snow.

"I got a barn if you wanna keep your horses there!" He suggested to the strangers, pointing towards the barn, "Afraid they'll have to share it with some of the cows and pigs but there's some empty spaces for them."

If they chose the barn option, they would find it remarkably warm inside despite the lack of a fireplace. There were cows, goats, sheep, and pigs all off in their own pens. Just as the old man had said, there was free stalls for horses available. For the ones who didn't go to the barn, Henry would lead them back to the house, stomping through snow the entire way.

Meanwhile the grandmother Amber had noticed with her sharp eyes another pair of strangers. Or perhaps stranger, as even her eyes couldn't see the smaller one very well. She had spotted Baise making his way through the snow and stepped out of the house to wave him over to the door. Inside the home was incredibly spacious despite the furniture and there was a box meant for boots or shoes by the door.

"Get your butts in her before they freeze off." Amber the old lady commanded, "Don't worry there's room for everybody. This place used to be an inn before we remodeled it."

 

[Arkobold]

Syr Sando gave a warm smile to the old man who had come out into the cold, lantern in hand. "Thank you kindly," the knight of dawn said as his mount came to stop beneath him. "Mighty fine thing you are doing, m' ser, offering your home and stables to travelers," he would hop off his stead, and grab at the reins. "Our horses have had to deal with worse, I assure you, and I doubt they'll mind the company when it comes all warm like," out came the matriarch, and her tone left no room for argument. The older knight gave a nod. "Edwina, Ark, why don't you lot head on in while Dal and I get the horses situated?" He jut out his chin and tilt his head to the door, and moved off to put the horses in the stable.

As he walked, with Dal in tow, he made a small chirp of a sound, as snow fell all about em. "Good instinct then, Dal," he said, mirth there despite all the cold. "Clearing the sign, and offering to screen the farm," the entered the barn and tied up the horses. "Never know who or what might show up in a storm like this," he said as the stall door swung closed behind them. "Now, lets go and get some of that ham, eh?" he winked at the big squire, rubbing his hands together, slow like.

The cow watched them, chewing its cud all the while. And the hoglings huffed and snorted about.

Inside the farmhouse, it was absolutely cozy. And glittery. Very glittery. So, as Arkobold waddled around the stead, never straying too far from Edwina, or the kindly folk who invited them in, his pack still large upon his back.

"Smells absolutely delightful in here," Edwina added, a wide and happy grin across her face as her bones took in the warmth of fire, cooking, and company.

 

[Baise]

"The trees are all in rows dad," Jude observed as they meandered up the path.

Baise was in no immediately hurry; he didn't want to catch up to the mounted party until they reached the farm.

"That's because it's a planted orchard Jude. They're laid out this way to make it easy to pick the fruits."

"Oh. Yeah," replied Jude. The boy had his head tucked into Baise's cost but Baise could still sense him trying to imagine the place during summer harvest. There were times when he could ask questions with endless curiosity, but today he accepted the offered answer. The boy was tired.

Get your butts in her before they freeze off. Amber the old lady commanded, Dont worry theres room for everybody. This place used to be an inn before we remodeled it.

Jude giggled at the language used. Baise picked up his pace, snow crunching underfoot. If the storm had grown in intensity and they had not found this place it would have been exhausting to find shelter and to keep it warm.

"We are very glad to have found you!" Baise exclaimed as he stepped inside and closed the door. He said Jude down, the tired boy wobbling on the spot. "And what an interesting group of travellers who found you first," he added.

Baise removed his coat, to revealed a waistcoat of detailed embroidery. Once the coat was hung he offered them all a polite bow.

"I am Baise and this is Jude."

 

[Dal]

At Syr Sando's words, Dal nodded and appreciated the feedback. He might have chided someone for praising him for basic security, but that was back then. Before he had accepted that this group had a far more personable way about things. Everyone was out for each other, and each other's worries and concerns, instead of their own balance of coins.

Dal rubbed his nose as he entered, trying to restore warmth in the thing as he entered. The smell of cooked goods filled him with feelings, and memories, some of them not the best. Ham would certainly best the bag of spices and ginger that Dal had been chewing on bleakly in the snow laden land. The homestead was an example of the life knew he would never have. Never wanted, he told himself, that repeated statement that kept him true to his cause, as he breathed deep of the creature comforts that were never offered to him as a mercenary without a fee.

Such a welcoming people. Perhaps being of the Order brought along all sorts of advantages, he thought, that weren't immediately obvious. The people seemed warm. Inviting. Not fearing for their safety from a bunch of people who sold their blades for coins, but rewarding those who gave their life for service.

Or perhaps their just foolish in generosity, he thought.

Maybe this is some kind of weird trap, he suspected.

Maybe.

Feels weird to think, Dal thought, that I am part of a more respectable host these days. A reputation that preceeds me. And, standards. God it is good to have people with standards that mustn't be lashed with constant reminders.

He took off his mittens as he walked in proper, slow, admiring the place as if he had never been into someone's provincial home. He felt very much the tourist. He had seen these places before, but in far bloodier or desperate condition. The ex-mercenary thought of the time where he had holed up with crossbow with scared occupants who wanted nothing but for him to be on his way. But with narrowed eyes he had holed up for six hours under fire, and finally got the sniper who had found him to be a threat. He couldn't even remember why that particular task had befallen him, but he still remembered the frightened faces. That he regreted turning into that particular building.

I wasn't to know there were civilians.

He couldn't meet the gaze of the hosts for some time for this very reason, and was shy to accept their offerings just yet. His hand formed a fist and released it, formed a fist and released as he thought about that gruelling ordeal, how it must have affected them still to this day. Denied them the chance to be so welcoming. His mind went to thinking about that trusty crossbow, and how it had been smashed in the siege he had fought with Heike and Kiros. It seemed like so long ago now. Would they even recognise me without my plate, he wondered?

Oh well he thought. Nothing for it.

He looked to Arkobold.

“Syr Arkobold. Grab us a tray of food would you when you get food. Do it, and,” he said, trying to measure his own gruff voice that had become a little more weathered due to the cold climate, and had a thought, “I'll tell you a story. By the fire.”

The truth was that Dal was shy to accept the patronage. He still felt out of place, and didn't want to seem like the burly chap who ate beyond his fair share. It was true he had to eat more than the average soldier to keep his physique, but he wasn't training, and this wasn't a gruelling march. This was a slice of comfort.

It sad odd in the half-orc's brain this thought of comfort.

He sat down and tried not to make eye contact with anyone as his body began to unwind the tension that seemingly was always within him. He eventually pressed his hands near the fire and tried to warm them, his mind telling him to remain sharp like an incessant bell, a bell he was trying his best to consider was completely pointless in this moment, for if his comrades were so comfortable, why couldn't I try it, he thought to himself.

He chided himself and indulged at the same moment as sensation restored to his fingertips and watched for Syr Arkobold's movements.

 

[Elis Chares]

As the first group entered, Amber began helping them with their coats and hanging the coats on the wall right next to the door. Any boots or shoes taken off would be put in the shoe box as well. It was rare for Amber to see a kobold like Akobold before but she kept her mouth shut and simply treated him like any other guest. She ushered the guests over to the living room where the warm fireplace and the comfortable chairs were, insisting that they all sat down and took a rest. Edwina already earned brownie points with the old woman by complimenting the smell of her food.

"Have as much as you want. There's plates and bowls in the kitchen so grab one and fill it up." Amber responded.

Despite the old woman's grouchy appearance and somewhat harsh speaking, she seemed to be a kindly person. Elis entered the room with wooden mugs filled with dandelion roasted tea and gave a mug to each of them.

Amber then rushed back to the second guest who had made it to the door and took their coats to hang as well. This was when she finally realized that one of the guests was a child. The poor thing looked exhausted and was probably very hungry. When Blaise took off his coat, the old woman was surprised to see a waistcoat with such detailed embroidery. Why would someone who could afford a waistcoat like that be dragging a child through a blizzard? Potential child endangerment aside, Amber felt it was important to make sure they both rested. Especially the child.

"Yes. Travelers always seem to be unique. The name's Amber by the way." The old woman said, "Now you can join us in the living room or you can take one of the bedrooms upstairs. We'll bring some food if you or your kid want to go to bed right away."

As Amber handled Baise and Jude, Elis began helping out in the living room and explaining what they had for rooms.

"Um. So each room upstairs has two beds. You'll have to share a room to make space for everybody. So if you could do that... it'd be great." Elis explained awkwardly to the first group and anybody else who was listening.

Meanwhile the grandfather had just returned from his trip to the barn after making sure every horse and animal was secure and warm. He grumbled a bit, took off his coat, then went to the living room and took a seat.

 

[Arkobold]

It was a fine ceramic plate the young kobold had managed to get into his hands. A thing glazed an emerald green, like the scented sprigs of a of an old and healthy pine. Prints of pinecones, and pine needle tufts were assorted about. It was not a perfect plate. Its edge bore some wobble. But even Arkobold could see that it was made by a delicate and crafty hand.

Upon this green plate he stacked taters and roast veggies. Hunks of ham too. For he remembered Syr Dal notice the succulent sizzling meat. And my, how it glistened. My how it smelled. He was sure the big squire would most appreciate it. And, with two plates piled on high (sure to leave plenty for the others aswell). He waddled back to big man who was warming up by the fire and offered him up the plate of food before he plopped onto a foot stool, tail swishing as he stabbed at his meal eagerly with wooden fork.

Elis explained the sleeping arrangements. Arko bore a toothy smile, wooden fork loaded with roasted vegetables and a hunk of ham. His eyes squinted happily. "No problem, kind man," he said, and stuffed his face. Swallowed. and his wide maw opened against to let his raspy scratch of a voice out again. "Sleep on floors, sleep on rocks, sleep in trees even!" He nodded happily and shoveled another bite of food into his gullet as his scales greedily took in the fire's heat. "Mush, mash, ham! And room. We are most fortunate, I think," Arko said.


Syr Sando gathered up his fellows coats and cloaks and helped put them away, warding the kindly old matron off with a friendly wave of the hand and sure smile.

Edwinna was readying her plate, and caught the newcomer as he remarked on how interesting they were, she huffed as small laugh, and looked the kindly stranger and his child over. "Should see us in a tavern, if you think this is interesting," she winked, and walked on toward the living room with a steaming pile of hot food.

Syr Sando came back, only just removing his hat to reveal his shaggy golden hair. "Heh, well met, Baise," he bowed theatrically to the little one. "Syr Jude" he rose up, and his boots knocked as he made his way over to some hanging studs on the wall, and rest his hat onto one such peg. "Names Sando, or, Syr Sando, if you want to be all formal like, no need on my account though," he turned and pointed to the lady half-orc-half-elf that sat by the fire. "That there is Edwinna, and the big one is Dal," he nod to the little red scaled creature happily sitting by the flame. "That there is Arkobold," he made for the food. "Why don't you put the little one to bed, and I'll get you a plate ready?" he said with a half smile and nod, and moved off to the kitchen, so full of hot warm delicious smells mixing and mingling into a medley of festive cookery.

 

[Dal]

Food received, Dal blinked at it, in some small measure stunned that such a simple service had been provided so simply and without hesitation from Arkobold. He took the plate as if he had been granted a great gift, and nodded his head at Arkobold and smiled sincerely, his features quietened by the simple gesture of consideration.

I didn't have to argue, jostle or justify my...shyness?

There had been no backchat or animosity as if he was in a militia barracks or castle garrison. It was funny, he thought, how much a meal can carry overtones of the day. The food before him hadn't been given to him as a ration or staple, it had been given freely, and gathered on a plate by someone he was now sworn to serve alongside. A fellow squire had gathered the plate with considerate, small hand. But this sensation of gladness made his chest tremble ever so slightly, as if it had pierced the frozen wall around his expectation. He was reminded of times where he had been grateful for a hot meal cooked within a cantine around a small fire as the threat of arrows had pressed against his mind, the only retort being was to survive, survive, survive, the brain did compel as the teeth did chew upon the warmth as a creature comfort in the face of unrelenting and bitter hell of war.

“Good for morale,” Dal stated, a whisper that was barely audible, remarked to the world in solemn truth of it. In so speaking did he remember the words that been imparted by his sword instructor, and by so many others who had taught him some of the values of being an officer. And at this thought did he think of his own purpose within attaining a higher rank, and thought in small, brief, all too brief, measure, that there might be something more than running through rivers to condition the body to fight, to attempt to weave the magic that his fellow squires and sworn handled so readily. But as the fork sank into the ham and greeted his sense of taste, he was bid to put such contemplations aside in face of a deeper sensation. The overwhelming sense of relief. Of belonging.

Of safety.

He chewed and chewed slowly and gladly as his eyes did look distant to the fire. His leg bounced ever so slightly as his mind did wander to times where he had to eat horse. Where he had run out of rations. When he had come across a half eaten family breakfast that had been disturbed by the presence of so much war and conflict, the evacuation forced, their belongings left strewn around.

Dal blinked and wondered if his fellow squires had ever seen such a thing. He thought, they must know. Surely they must know. But, Dal thought, perhaps no-one has told them of these stories.

But it was not a story he wanted to tell here and now. Not this day. Better to guard them with the truth of things later, he thought. He didn't want to bring down the mood. It wasn't where his heart beat right now. These people, these provincial and kind people, offered what they had freely and with the spirit of kindness. Best do justice to that spirit, he thought.

Dal decided that it was not right to simply accept such a kindness without some coin in return. It the lingering of bartering within his spirit, the conscience of one who had rendered a lifetime of services with proper payment. It felt odd and too awkward to bear to endure the feeling he was taking advantage of the people. He wanted to make things right.

But first, he finished his meal, enjoying every bite, becoming more entrenched in the safety of this place, and the warmth from the fire and the owners of such a hearth. There would be time for a clattering of coins upon a table later, delivered with a sense of quiet generosity that had so guided his gift to Lysanthir, the knife.

He placed plate down and looked to Arkobold softly.

“Thank you, Arkobold. Thank you very much,” Dal said, and looked to the fire.

“I have a few stories to tell. Most of them times of conflict. But...there is one story. A story when a knight stood against the tide of warriors. A woman of shining gold who made me think, ah, well. It's the only story that comes to mind for some reason. Would you like to hear the first time I really thought that knights weren't all that bad Arkobold?” Dal said softly, and his bones slowly unwinding their consistent tension as he reclined in seat, and became comfortable as he thought of his comrade and friend, Heike Eisen, and sought permission to regale the tale. He was not one to gab so freely about battles won, but it was more than that. It was a moment to reveal his own understanding of what a knight was, or could be. And certainly so in spite of his earlier experiences with that certain breed of warrior that found honour to be a shield, and service a sword to fend.

Not that Dal thought about it so eloquently and clearly. But, as the food digested, did he allow himself to be nourished by the reality of things. He had changed in his attitude towards knights.

And, he realised, clearly now, that he was all the better for it.

 

[Baise]

There was something a little forced in Baise's smile as the words Syr Jude were said. He knew they were being pleasant, but Baise had some trouble with authority and titles.

"A pleasure to meet you Sando, Edwinna, Dal and Arkobold," Baise said, giving a low bow.

He cast his eyes over Jude and considered the suggestions for an early bed.

"I suspect you'll be wanting to stay up a little while?" he asked the boy.

"Please Dad."

"Very well, but off to bed soon."

Jude had gone from a state of near hibernation into over stimulation in an instant. He knew the eight year wouldn't get straight to sleep now anyway.

He let Jude take a large comfortable chair, whilst he pulled up a plain wooden stool and sat beside him.

When Jude did go to sleep almost nothing disturbed him. That worked for Baise, who was something of a night owl and would often write into the late hours by candle light. Sometimes he would enjoy socialising in the bar below the rooms of an Inn whilst they travelled once Jude was asleep.

Stories of heroes and battles were likely to test Judes ability to keep himself awake long into the evening.

 

[Elis Chares]

The young man couldn't help but chuckle at Arko's list of places to sleep. He knew travelers usually didn't have the luxury of choosing where they slept but he couldn't help but find Arkobold's reaction as a bit adorable. He then noticed Amber who was still fussing over the food and the guests. Worried that she would fuss too much, he stood up and walked over to her.

"Take a rest grandmother. I'll take care of things." He said gently.

Elis couldn't help but smile at the collection of people in their home. And here he was worried that this holiday would be too quiet. His grandparents were never comfortable with the quiet since they came from large bustling households with many siblings. Even if they were strangers, it was better than the lonely quiet for them. Taking a log, he added it to the fireplace and poked the flames.

Around this time everybody seemed to have gotten their food and were settling down into their chairs. His grandparents both had claimed a chair next to each other and were quietly discussing food plans for the next morning. Elis finally grabbed a plate for himself and piled on the ham and other foods he had spent hours working on.

Then he had a seat closer to the travelers. Though he was quiet about it, he was listening eagerly for some tale or story. The farm was comfortable and safe, he had little interest in leaving it. However, the outside world was full of life and stories that he liked hearing. There were so many things out there that interested him, especially tales of swords and magic.

 

[Arkobold]

The big people gathered round. Sept, one of them was about as big as Arkobold. Probably half as young. Child. Yes. That's what he was. Not a dwarf. Arkobold stretched his snout out closer to the boy's direction and gave the air a sniff. No no, not a halfling either. Child. Yes.

At the mention of Dal's tale, and what it meant, the young squire squint his eyes and let out a happy little scree.

"It sounds important to, Dal," the small knight prospective said. "So I would like to hear it, yes," he said with a jerky nod of the head before his mouth snapped open and he shoveled another hunk of ham and another spoonful of tatoes and carrots.

Edwina sipped on some of the warm drink she had found, and Sando sat himself nearby. Spoke to the old farmer on how things had gone for him this year, and reminded him how thankful they were to have found this place, and the hospitality they provided.

"Been a while since I got to celebrate Frostfall," Sando said with a wistful smile, and raised his cup to the old man and the old woman in turn. "Blessings to you and your homes, kind folk," he said and gave a drink.

 

[Dal]

((This post refers to the deeds committed in the thread Valor, found here: https://chroniclesrp.net/threads/valor.3547/))​

Dal cleared his throat and stared into the fire as he collected the details in his mind. How to begin such a story. He had told a few stories in his time, but each one had been delivered with a point in mind. The importance of discipline, the value of comrades, the appreciation of being rescued to his fellows. This story concerned a battle which Arkobold hadn't been part of, and Dal felt an obligation to the dwarves that had been slain during the siege to get it right. This was a story about himself, he knew, but no battlefield is waged alone.

He spoke tersely to begin with.

“We had secured a VIP. A VIP called Sardun Steelborn, a dwarven boy. A councilman's nephew if I recall correctly. I joined the auxilleries, the primary force being a small force of dwarves, an elite unit, well disciplined, supremely good. I wore much heavier armour then, and I dare say it compared to the plate that the dwarves wore. The Arrgoth Marines are excellent shock troopers, well equipped, and they know their own worth.”

He blinked a few times and looked to the fire. He became slower in speech. This was not casually spoken.

“We were tactically withdrawing, having what we had come for. But we were pursued by orcs. And then caught up with us. Formations were called. We lined up. Our location? A ridge, with two walls either side so we might draw the enemy into our number and defeat them. Or hold the line long enough to break their will to fight. I had good company that day, and an highly competant grand commander. Captain Grunni Ironhammer. I had spent some coins on enchanting my longsword to cut true and powerfully against my orcish kin that day. It glowered at me when I looked at it. Lethal thing...I don't miss it.”

Dal was more used to delivering combat reports in terms of facts and figures, lessons to be learned from the unfolding of conflict. But he recounted his story with pride, his voice steady and measured.

“The sound. The sound of endless orcs. It makes the ground shake. Time ago, I was a part of that tradition, of the war cry, of the declaration of intent to butcher with the orc tribes. Roaring before battle, it summoned the violence in the blood. Made you strong. A war cry that I was on the other side of now, with my dwarven comrades and the auxilleries I volunteered to assist. The sound announced their charge. The formation stood strong, lines of dwarven steel and discipline, a credit to their training and strength of purpose, and defiant to the warcry. Axes were readied. Shields raised. And then they came for us. For our VIP, rescued from a slave camp. They wanted to butcher him. We stood against them that day. We all did.”

Dal sighed and recounted the first charge in his head. He steadied his nerve at the thought. He had time to process the day, but it was the first time in some time he had spoken it aloud. It made flashes of images appear to mind which Dal accepted and received and allowed to pass through him.

The God of Death did smile on me that day, Dal reminded himself.

He kept that detail to himself.

“But I stood beside a knight. Subcommander to us, the auxiliaries. I had served beside her before, in some business about the portal stones failing. But that's another story entire. Herr Heike Eisen. Skilled with blade, plated in gold armour, of the Order of the Golden Blade, Night Watchmen Templar Chapter. If all knights were as proficient as her, our problems in the world would be very much over. She delivered orders clearly. She stood defiantly. Her presence made you feel as if there was cohesion in spirit. A fine warrior, and...my friend. Which was why, when she...”

Dal paused, thinking of when he had to rescue her from the jumping orcs. Had to deliver rondel and cut through, preventing her death. He stared at Arkobold, not quite focusing on any point.

He shook his head as he snapped out of it. He stared into the fire.

“She was the first knight I ever respected. She fought alongside you as if you mattered. She delivered orders clearly. She wanted nothing more than for you to survive. She had honour. We won that day, and the battles after it. I'll tell you more about it another time. The important thing I wanted to say is that she was a symbol, a point in which to orientate yourself in combat. She was honest to the dangers, practiced discipline with her orders, didn't break under pressure and had integrity. Yes, she was the first knight that I was truly impressed with. But, I can't go on right now. Perhaps later I will tell you of her deeds in combat. As well as my other friend, Kiros, a priest who...who I haven't seen since those days. I hope I see him again. I just wanted to tell you that small account Arkobold. Without her, I don't think I would have joined the Order. Without her, we would have lost many more men, and perhaps not turned the tide.”

He crossed his arms and drank deep of his drink.

"Thank you for listening," he said and ruminated silently as the emotions refused to play out on his stoic features.

((For visibility's sake: VigiloConfido Kiros Rahnel ))

 

[Elis Chares]

The grandfather took the time to chat with Edwina, telling her about the seasons and the type of crops they grew. Most of what the orchard grew were fruits, though they had some nice olive trees but those were hidden safely. Olive trees took so much time to grow and they didn't want seasonal raiders to destroy them. Meanwhile the grandmother just rested, tired of hosting. When Sando thanked them for the hospitality, the grandfather nodded his head with an almost smile.

"We do it every year. Part of the local tradition to let travelers stay." He explained.

Meanwhile Elis was enraptured by Dal's tale of dwarves and knights and battles, though he knew that they were likely embellished and the gory details were left out. The part of the story that drew him in the most was when the warrior described Herr Heike Eisen, a golden knight and the symbol of hope for these soldiers. The way that Dal described her was in past tense and Elis noticed the pause in his speech.

There was also a massive amount of praise towards this knight, so he could only assume that she had died in that battle. Elis noticed how the description of the war changed into a description of the warrior, maybe to avoid talking about an uncomfortable moment. Either way the farmer knew better than to pry. Instead, he just listened. Soon the story finished with them winning, a satisfying ending.

"Thank you for the story." Elis said politely, "Would you like me to refill your mug? And anybody else want anythin?"

They still had plenty of drink and food. The last thing Elis wanted was to have to pack up the excessive meals and drinks they had made for the celebration.