Completed Spine soup

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Two weeks from here? I doubt it. Two weeks from my home? Maybe. But my home is far in the Tundra. Not even you would know it's name."

He turned to face her, scanning her for a moment, while his alcoholic horse and hers trotted along. Rhi snarled, upset that he had gone for so long without a drink.

"People south of us refer to rampaging Templars during many of the schisms that you had. Hopefully that does not come to pass again, hm?" He said with a wry smile.

"Religion of the Summer Lands, and Orders devoted to it, do not interest Nordenfiir. Are there any Nordenfiir Templars in your order? I'd be surprised, given how few of us are even off the Tundra."

 

[Anastasia]

"Probably not," Ana admitted with a laugh.

"I cannot speak for the actions of others, or for what my brethren did a millennia ago, but I can speak for my people. We have better manners than that." Because anything less and they'd be chewed out by her. Gaining power did grant her influence, and with it there were a few things she had been ego to changed. Public relations? Top of the list.

Getting chased out of towns with pitch forks really got old, fast.

"What are you doing off Tundra then?" She asked curiously, glancing over at him and his sluggish horse. She eyed it skeptically. "You've seem to have come a long way."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"People who travel around killing monsters and things they disagree with often have good manners."

A simultaneous insult to her and a self-deprecating joke. He ignored her question as to why he was off the Tundra. His silence boded an answer that it was not open for discussion.

They approached the edge of town while Arnor remained silent, glancing around. He stopped just shy of the Town Watch, an aging man with a spear. Not exactly the garrison of troops he was hoping they had.

He placed a hand on the back of Rhi's head, stroking his withdrawing horse, sniffing.

"Which one of us is going to do the talking, then?"

 

[Anastasia]

Ana merely watched his silence, not commenting as she allowed the dodge.

"That would be me then," she answered to the question finally asked, the woman reaching behind her and pulling her cloak to cover her Templar crest.

Public relations wasn't that fixed yet. She had no energy left to deal with the strong response it would get.

"Good manners and all."

She nodded her head towards the sentinel as they pulled to a stop him. "You there," he greeted. "What business do you have here?" The spear remained held out, a wobble to its tip.

"Food," she answered honestly. "Shelter, and news. Hilta had murmurs of ghouls loose. We've come to aid."

He eyed the armor tied to her back, and the weapons kept on Arnor's hip. "Aye. A pair of strong arms would be welcome then." He lowered the spear. "Blackcat inn is just that way. Barkeep Marves can give you what you need."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The pair were directed to the Blackcat, and away they went. Arnor purchased his own room- with a peculiar request for most people. Arnor asked for a bath... and enough mead and ale for three men for his horse. Coin was coin, and who was to deny the Nordenfiir a request that he was paying for?

Sure enough, the inn had one, and it took some time to heat it up. Arnor usually traveled with his own soaps, something that he took great pleasure in acquiring. The floral scent lit up the room. He sank into the water, leaning his head back as the floral scent took over the bath area.

He had sent one of the barmaidens after the woman, without telling her of course, that the Nordenfiir would be in the bath.

He had his head leaned back when Ana came into the particularly warm room.

A separate bath was available, but Arnor wasn't paying for two.

"The innkeeper told me he'd fetch someone in the morning to give us more insight into the attacks.. but for now, I suggest we do not speak to anyone else. The whole town is on edge. The whole place knows something."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana blinked, the door clinking shut behind her as the thick scent of soaps hit her over the nose.

She had dressed down into an informal tunic, her leathers and Templar emblazons tucked well out of sight. This wasn't a typical Templar habit, the group usually bore their identification with unreserved bravado. But she truly hated the attention it brought to her. She had gone out to tend to errands in such wear, and she arrived in it now.

The Templar's gaze landed heavily on the submerged figure. It received no response spare a quirked brow. She had seen many naked bodies out on the field, and she wasn't going to give his imprudence the blush it deserved.

"Well I can't say I haven't done that already. But I've said nothing that could give our intention away, and I don't plan to yet." She crossed her arms, cocking out her hip as she leaned against the door frame.

"You do know you're just going to get muddy again tomorrow? No amount of smelling like a girl will make me go easy on you this mission."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor simply looked up at her and had a singular thought-

Does she not bathe regularly?

"Perhaps the men of your lands could do with a little more hygiene and bathing. To me, all of you smell awful most of the time."

Arnor kept his weapons by his side, even in the bath. He was never without them. But then again, at any given moment, he could turn into a bear and rip someone's face off. But he preferred the blades at any rate.

Never felt safe after Belgrath.

"Some of them know me. They do not know you. We should tread carefully. As I said earlier, something feels off."

 

[Anastasia]

"My men have been told to lay low. They won't draw attention with their arrival." If they could manage to arrive in time at all. Ana suspected they were not more than half a day away. They wouldn't have moved far without her, even on her orders to carry on without her.

Saul would have their beards for that.

And they work that way at any rate. They'd come for her, it was just a matter of if this problem would be solved by then or not. Ana was starting to suspect not.

"What do you know about these people then? This town?" Her eyes trailed to the shuttered window, concern etched inside her brow. "Could something have happened to drive a deal with the devil?" She wondered half under her breath. "Something to make them desperate?" A town that felt off was usually a town that was guilty of aiding or hiding.

She glanced back at him for answers.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"What I think and what I know are different things."

He laughed after a moment, imagining heavily-armored Templars crouching in a bush. "Templars will draw attention here. The eyes of the Spine are far-reaching in their gaze." He said quietly, leaning back and sinking into the water.

"My guess would not be a thing, it would be a person. But my suspicions will wait until tomorrow to be confirmed. You would do well to rest, to relax. And to firmly remove the stick up your ass."

He closed his eyes, but kept one arm outside of the tub- right near the hilt of his silver sword.

 

[Anastasia]

A laugh caught in her throat, the notion almost hysterical to her. "You have clearly not met any of my kin." Getting a splinter of warmth from Saul on a mission was as impossible as milking a liche.

She pushed off the door, a smile cracked at thoughts that were not expressed. "I will remain in my room," she allotted, not protesting. "And depending on what we learn tomorrow, I will ride out for them myself if you're still worried about exposure. But I'll tell you one thing-- if we take up your cause up in Nordifer (spelling) there will be no stops for baths. And by a fortnight you'll be saying my smile is the sun itself."

Her light tone abruptly dropped, an edge of a warning coating her sincere words. "Attempts at humor and subtlety have cost us lives before. You won't find the others too keen on it ...Not when there's a job to do."

And to insist they try was a borderline insult.

"Enjoy your night."

She gave him a small, pained smile, and turned to leave him to his rose-scented bath.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Now that I'm alone I shall."

He remarked with a bit of crassness to his voice, as she left him be, having left before he could comment on the hypocrisy of them coming to do a job that he was halfway done with.

Typical zealots, all talk and no results. If more people hired help instead of waiting for do-gooders, then the world would probably be better off. Privatizing security was the future, safety from a paycheck.

The morning came as all mornings did, too soon for the Nordenfiir. But he awoke all the same, more used to the idea of waking early, due to the fact and the fact alone that there was money to make. He arose and donned his gear, chainmail protecting his body in the vital areas, leather in others to allow for better movement. He risked losing it if he needed to turn into a bear, but always kept a spare change of clothes on Rhi's saddlebags.

He walked out slowly, not seeing the Templar yet. He was stopped by one of the barmaids, a young girl- probably not even 12.

She handed him a piece of paper and walked away, obviously put up to it.

He opened it, scowled.

He couldn't read it.

"I can't fucking read this-!" She was already gone, and he sighed. It wasn't in the language that he had gotten used to, the Common tongue, or the Trade tongue. Something else, something he couldn't identify. With a huff, he glanced around, waiting for the sultry yet sassy Templar to wake the hell up.

 

[Anastasia]

As if summoned, Ana slid out from the stairway. She bore the same nondescript clothing as the day before. Unfortunately wearing her leathers meant broadcasting who and what she was, a problem which had never been a problem up until recently.

If they were gonna do this whole 'improve public relations thing', they really needed to stop emblazing their gear.

Or at least Ana did. The others had yet to see eye to eye with her on the topic.

She caught sight of him from across the bar, wide eyed and refreshed from her own time spent in a bed. She shrugged her pack of concealed leathers over her shoulder and approached, an easiness to her movements. Guess she was the morning person of the group.

"Bad news?" She hedged, her hair down from its usual braid and brushing over his arm as she took the seat besides him.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

#38

The hair on his shoulders matched the hair braided into his. Red, deep red, like hers. But her proximity brought familiarity and longing. Or maybe something else.

He handed her the letter, frowning.

"Some kid handed it to me. Walked away right after. The issue, is that I can't read it." He said bluntly, fully admitting he was in the dark. Nordenfiir often were blunt and honest, they didn't dwell on their shortcomings. Arnor was no different.

He needed to get paid and move on, he didn't have the time to feel embarrassed or weak for not knowing something.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana frowned, her brows furrowing over the unfamiliar script.

"A slight problem then," she murmured. "I can't either." She sat back into the seat, the lines of concentration not leaving her features. She had never been known as the smart one of the group. Common was not her first tongue, and the years it took her to adapt and pick it up amongst the templars as a child delayed the possibility of finer teachers. Like script writing, and other languages.

Her new position amongst her people had forced her to fine tune her skills with reading common to some degree, but...

"This is not common," she stated forlornly. If they had Valerie here perhaps they would stand a chance, but as it stood...

Ana looked between them and frowned deeper. "The bar keep?" She offered, unsure. If this was something sensitive, it wouldn't do good to give it to the center location of town gossip. But even then, who else was at their finger tips to ask.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"She couldn't even reach the bar. Probably not more than 10."

He said gruffly, running a hand through his hair. Stalled because of a note from a little girl. Not going on his accolades or boasts. Nobody would hire him if he was constantly done in by children with their stupid fucking notes.

"Someone out in town would probably be better." He turned to give her a once over, finally noticing her new attire. And a lack of Templar insignias.

"Templars not popular?" He asked quietly. To say that he also in the process did not thoroughly check her out in the same instance was a lie. He did that. He did do that.

But the question remained all the same.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana's frown only deepened, the woman's attention dropping from the paper, to her tunic.

"...Unfortunately, no. I should be wearing it anyways, but..." Ana cared about what others thought. Wrong assumptions hurt just as much as they got in the way of her doing her job. She folded up the letter and held it out to him.

"It also could be an attempt to derail us." But it was unlikely anyone could know they wouldn't know the language. No one would be so preemptively tactical in a small town like this. She looked across the room, seeking out a kind face that might have a solution to their plight.

"Another town is morning's ride away from my men. I say we wait. I have a man that can translate this. They must be near."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Maybe seeing a pretty woman who's helping them and their neighbors. Hiding does you no good."

Arnor rubbed his hands together, as a curious looking barmaid, up to her chin in plates, dropped steaming food off for him. Nordenfiir had legendary appetites- and Arnor was quite a fan of breakfast and anything related to breakfast.

Arnor watched as the girl placed the plates down, six of them, of various items of food.

Then he looked up.

That little shit was delivering him food. Then he realized something- she wasn't trying to be deceitful. He thought about flinging her across the room, but it would do no good. Arnor flicked his head to the girl to the woman. He didn't want to scare her, but more importantly, he wanted to get a headstart on breakfast.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana huffed into the air as Arnor dodged her further attempt at planning, watching in restrained shock at the quantity of food he had delivered.

She was so enveloped by the sheer quantity of it she nearly missed his nod towards the child as she scrambled away.

"Wait," Ana called out, her voice soft. She gave the girl a once over, her expression softening. "A plate for me, a silver for you if you can tell us who had you deliver this letter." Her fist unfurled, revealing the coin. The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of it.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The girl pointed at a very quiet Dwarf in the corner, a man who looked particularly scholarly, for a Dwarf. To Arnor, most people in the Summer Lands looked particularly scholarly.

Arnor was busy eating, but stopped to wipe his mouth and look at Ana.

"Time for you to go make friendly with him. That doesn't work, I'll beat it out of him."

He went back to consuming the vast quantity of food before him, ravishing the dishes before him like a caged animal would.

Table manners, were not Arnor's calling, it would seem.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana gave Arnor a heavy look. Not because of how he ate, because surely he'd find she ate no different, but because he was going to leave her all the work.

She gave an impermeable shake of the head and stood up, brushing down the girl's hair and placing the coin in her hand before she left Arnor to his food.

She approached the dwarf post haste, nodding politely as she pulled out a chair and sat across from him. She slid the letter back across the table. "Do you offer translations for coin?"

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor had a fair point, she was better suited to 'talking to people' and 'communication' and 'not scaring everyone in a ten meter radius' by his presence alone. That, and he didn't want to talk to him.

Dwarves creeped him out. Anything that came up to his knee and carried and axe more often than not was weird in his book.

The Dwarf in question looked up from his meal, at the Templar. Then to the girl.

"You can't read Elvish? What're you stupid? Have a seat, girl."

He gruffly replied, the aging scholarly looking Dwarf shifting in his seat. He pointed over at Arnor. "And keep that big thing away from me. Bears, you know."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana was indeed stupid. She knew it. She did not care. Words and scholarly things seemed like head aches and sleepless nights to those who used them around her. She could spend her time doing more satisfying things elsewhere.

She had no qualms with that.

She sat down across from him, unmiffed by his gruff tone. Her gaze followed his to the feasting Nodifer (SPELLING?), a brow being quirked at his words.

"I assure you he smells better than a bear." She gave him a warm smile, none the less nodding at his request. "Though I'm afraid... no, neither of us can read this." The smile turned pained, the Templar searching for a better set of words.

"...Though maybe you could read it to me over a fresh ale?" She had the flickering worry that this was a con. She slid forward a copper none the less. They had very little else to go on.

"I'm Ana."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The tavern and inn watched with mild amusement as the Nordenfiir consumed the bountiful feast, some jealous, some envious, some impressed. A mixture of emotions and the spectacle drew attention away from Ana and the Dwarf.

Perhaps on purpose.

"I thought a fucking Templar could read Elvish, I guess not." The Dwarf shifted in his seat, shaking his head. "I want you outsiders out of my town as much as anyone else, especially a big Brute like that. Especially after what he did at Belgrath!" He turned his head and stared at Arnor. Arnor flicked an eye to him.

"I know where the Ghouls are coming from, and who's doing them. I'll double your payment if you can get it done by the next two nights and then leave." The Dwarf, apparently, was not a fan of outsiders. Arnor understood. The townsfolk were gathering around, someone a survivor of Knottington.

The women seemed interested in the brutish, tall, handsome stranger with the tattoos on his face. The men seemed envious of his exploits, and the women looking at him. Arnor slouched in his chair, putting on a fake smile.

Meanwhile, the Dwarf was pissed that a Templar and a Nordenfiir were still in his town and there were ghouls running around.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana's brows furrowed at the small scene Arnor pulled in on himself. She looked back to the dwarf, her brows furrowed. "We are only trying to help," she reasoned, her voice tight in the face of his obvious distaste of her presence.

"But if that's what you'd prefer..." She gave a gentle nod of acquisition. "Provide us the details in common and we'll be on our way. We have no desire to linger or disturb..." She looked back at Arnor as he shoved a whole bun into his mouth. Woman started to chatter.

"Well," she amended. "The Templars do not."

She pulled our her unrefined map, spreading it across the table. "Show me the necromancers base camp."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

He pointed at a now defunct mining camp. He pushed the map away from her, shaking his head. "Town used to have a lot of business from that mine. Collapsed a long time ago. Lots of people died there. Lots of people now walkin' 'round again." He looked over at Arnor.

"Just take the road North. You'll find it, sure as day. Templar or the Bearthing- we both want you gone. We don't need no more outsiders runnin' around." He stared at her hatefully. He viewed them both as weapons, tools, means to an end.

Arnor looked over at her, his expression shifting.

The spectacle seemed to have worked. He gave her a wink. He knew what he was doing. Arnor seemed more clever than he let on. Maybe he did the simple sellsword as an act. A sort of 'gotcha'.