Dreadlords The Cold North

[Luthen]

Elyrsk - Neus

The cold of the north had truly settled over the last few days. An incessant bite and chill that seemed to reach into ones very bones.

Luthen loved it.

For years he had languished in a cell scorched by the sun. Even at night the bricks had nearly too hot to touch, and during the summer days his skin had been scorched. This was a pleasant change in regards to that. Decades of heat finally being washed away by nights which left even the ocean as pieces of broken eyes. The journey had been a long one, with only a distant portal stone allowing them to cut some of the journey short.

His companions had traveled him without complaint...at least mostly. One of them seemed never to quite be able to shut up, though notably it was almost with some joke or jape about someone else's last words. Almost as if he couldn't stand things going quiet.

Something Luthen could not relate to.

After a moment more of staring at the fjords ahead, the Dreadlord slowly pulled himself away from the front of the ship and took a few short steps to where some of the others had gathered. The Anirian Sailors around them moved with the precision their Navy was known for, though now bundled in thick coats. When we arrive I would ask that one of you acts as my translator.

His fingers quickly flickered in the exacting Dreadlord Handsigns that they were all taught. It was the only language that he could communicate in safely, and he had his doubts that the people of Elsyrk, or Neus at large would have bothered learning any kind of sign language. Despite that though, he still wanted a voice on this trip, and he would have to rely on one of his companions.

Preferably, one of the Initiates. Though he did not want to force any into the chore. Please.

He added with a smile, remembering his manners.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

The Initiates were quiet when The Dreadlord signed their way, too cold and waiting for action to begin, but it was Vittoria that immediately answered him by taking a step forward and nodded. "Of course."

Where the other Initiates probably thought Luthen as intimidating, Vittoria saw him as the Voiceless General she had heard stories about in the past. To be his voice was seen as an honourable thing to the young Initiate.

This was a type of cold that cut at their skin. It was uncomfortable, miserable, but one of the Initiates was wielding magicks to keep them all from falling dead in these temperatures. Vittoria was dressed warmly, gloved hands taking refuge in pockets but now slowly pulled them out to communicate with the Dreadlord.

How much further to go?

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair pushed himself onto the deck of the ship, finally freeing himself from a small room he had commandeered himself for the trip. Although the weather was unforgivably cold, Alistair was wearing warm but not overly cumbersome clothes, and his stoic face made it seem as if he was perfectly fine. Of course, that was because Alistair was cheating with his runic-reinforced clothing, he was nice and toasty. That was why he had taken over that room in the first place, to try and provide some equipment for the trip.

"How is-" Vittoria's response to Luthen cut off his greeting. Oh, Luthen must have been signing again. Alistair quickly activated his eyes to join the conversation while offering a quick apology for the interruption.

In his hands, he held several pairs of gloves that he handed out to their party. This would help, a little, with the cold, at the minimum preventing frostbite.

"I just spoke with the quartermaster, and he said we would arrive within the hour, so if everyone is not packed up yet then I suggest you do so." He supplied while taking this chance to inspect everyone's gear. Of course, he was not worried about himself, Luthen, or Cenric, but there was always the chance one of the initiates had never ventured this far up north.

Upon putting on the gloves he handed out, a soft runic light would glow along the surface of the runes before dying out. What would follow is a brief flash of warmth before the magic began working to balance out the wearer's body temperature. Alistair had learned this set of runes back at the Academy during one of his first missions to the Tundra. The Shamans there had laughed at the young boy whose teeth could not stop chattering even on their stealth assignment.

Luthen Vittoria Larrainth

 

[Marcia]

The chattering teeth instead belonged to Marcia, who had tried and attempted in vain to find insulated clothing that actually fit her properly. What was worse? To be cold or hampered by ill-fitting clothes in a crucial moment? The answer was simple and, unfortunately, came at the cost of her comfort, and if the clattering of chipped enamel wasn't proof enough, then the luminous red of her nose certainly was.

She thought this might have been hell, shivering in the company of Vittoria fucking Larrainth like a stray wet dog, but for some strange reason, it was almost bearable.

Marcia pondered whether Luthen's monumental presence softened the sting, the respect pulling rank on the disdain, or whether Alistair and his gloves might as well have been the second coming of Trajan Luana. As the warmth greeted fingers threatened by the bite of frost and gradually began to spread, she had to think it was the latter.

"Th-th-thanks," the girl chattered, in what was, by her standards, top manners.

Removing the large (at least on her) round buckler from her back, Marcia grunted as she crouched down and inspected the metal; every bit of sea spray had frozen into a formation of tiny ice crystals, completely obscuring the shield's reflective nature. She was never one for small talk and instead took to wiping the frost from her weapon of choice.

Vittoria was going to do all of the talking anyway. Naturally.

 

[Luthen]

Luthen smiled as Alistair answered the flicker of Vittoria's fingers, glancing briefly towards the other two Initiate's. He did not know much about Marcia nor Kolridge, though he did not know much about the Larrainth girl either.

Before his incarceration at the hands of the Church he had made it a point to track and keep an eye on the current crop of Initiate's. Both as a safeguard, as a way to pick out those with the most potential.

Thirty years had rather dulled his knowledge however, and even Alistair had not even been a flicker in his mother's eye when Luthen had been captured. Thus, he had to steady himself with dossiers and word of mouth, neither of which let one form much of a picture of a person.

Cenric, take the back would you. He flickered his fingers wordlessly, and almost immediately the other Dreadlord stepped back and away. Offering only a smile and a tilt of his head before he moved to flank the others.

Not longer after the village of Elyrsk came into view, the massive outter-bastion of Elyrk clinging to the mountain behind it.

Neus, as a nation, was divided into seven holdings. Each of which controlled by a Prince or Princess, each of whom was appointed by the Palatine of Neus itself. Elyrk, was the Keep of the Black Ice. The Bastion responsible for maintaining the security of the nations south. An imposing fortress, the village below was surprisingly quaint.

Their long-ship came to a stop upon one of three docks, the smell of roasting meats, barley ale, and other foreign scents quickly reaching the Anirians aboard. We head to the keep first, present out papers.

He instructed, flashing a smile.

Then we search. It was better not to cause an international incident while they hunted the item.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria paid no attention to Marcia, a task not at all difficult when most others kept their distance from her to begin with. The chattering teeth was ignored, her eyes looking to the water ahead, the cold grasping in the air as the vessel pushed forth.

Docks came into view, the lanterns dim in the light cloak the promise of snow.

As soon as Luthen brought his hands up to communicate, her attention whipped to him, nodding her head to the plan he set before them.

"After you." She stepped back, standing beside Luthen as she directed an unnerving smile to Krixus. He was a superior, and Vittoria afforded him this respect.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was thankful that his runic eyes were already activated because he did want to get a good look at this Elyrk. This Keep of Black Ice was impressive, and may even fit the aesthetic of some fortresses found in Vel Anir. The town connected to the keep was simple, but everything built here was...hardy. He supposed it would have to be with all the snow. If there was one thing an Anirian could appreciate then it was sturdy architecture.

Not too much was known of this land from an intelligence perspective, so it was important that they kept their eyes and ears open even if they were here for their treasure-hunting endeavors.

He was not worried about this team keeping their head on their shoulders. Vittoria was a known quality with plenty of competence. Marcia was the most unknown factor, but she had shown necessary discipline and respect while on the ship so that was a good sign.

Alistair smirked as Vittoria allowed him to step off the vessel first. It was not necessary as he did not cling to the formalities of ships, largely because he did not known many of them. However, he would not turn down kindness and show respect.

While Alistair had bothered learning some of the local languages before their mission, there was no point in him trying his broken speak when it was quite clear where they needed to go. The Keep was the most noticeable building for miles.

With the papers in his bags, he looked back at the others to make sure everyone was good to go, and they were off.

 

[Marcia]

Meanwhile, Marcia decided staying at the back of the troupe would be the wisest course of action. It didn't matter that she was in a paradoxically better mood than usual; the Initiate knew that a single back-handed comment courtesy of Vittoria could wreck that in a moment.

She disembarked with her buckler slung onto her back over her pack, making her appear to be some miniature turtle woman.

Not having had a change of heart on the merits of small talk, the girl kept to herself, instead taking in the sights and smells of the village beneath the keep. What was it like to live here? To be hardened by the cold and never know the true warmth of summer?

Marcia blinked.

What a saccharine thought to have.

Fuck the cold.

Feeling more herself after the internal profanity, she continued with the others, walking faster to keep up with longer legs. They would find no complaint from her on the way to the keep; this was best behaviour territory, and she refused to be the one who caused trouble on this mission, even if it was expected of her.

 

[Luthen]

Luthen lead the procession of strangers through the village beneath the Keep.

Their small journey took nearly an our. The first half of which they spent within the town itself. Wandering through the market squares and watching as the folk of Erlysk went about their day. The village was not too dissimilar from a place like Vel Luin, though it's architecture was far more steep.

Towers with rounded tops drew high up in the distance, almost appearing like...Luthen frowned, pushing the thought away with a slight silent chuckle to himself.

It was on the second part of their journey that his already cold companions would feel the first bite of a Neusian gale. As they left the village and ascended to the Keep on the mount above, cutting winds drew up from the fjord and launched themselves upon the track.

By the time they reached the great fortress, frost had speckled inside the older Dreadlord's beard. Two men the size of bears, and wearing their furs, stood outside the gate. Heavy gloves gripping spears which reached taller than each of their heads. Neither acknowledged the coming Anirian's, save for when they finally presented themselves fully.

Alistair. An Introduction perhaps? He was the one with the papers after all.

Then quickly signed something else to the two Initiates.

How do these men fight? He asked, as if suddenly offering a pop quiz. If we were to be attacked what are our escape routes?
Luthen continued to flicker. Who is the greatest threat in the Keep.

He smiled at the two. Have these answers for me when we leave, and I will teach you to forget the cold.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

How do these men fight?

Her eyes turned to survey the monstrous figures before them, sizing them up before casting a nonchalant look about the place. To each question the Dreadlord had asked of them, Vittoria was silent as she began devising her answers.

To the Erlyskians, Vittoria simply looked bored, unassuming.

At least she knew the Dreadlords were the biggest threats here... but there was a strange detail about the large men her eyes drifted back to... a possibility they would prove worthy as opponents.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The initial part of the journey was largely boring to Alistair, as the early parts of the village only had so much magic in the area, which meant he had to largely use his aura and that of the others to allow himself to see. The architecture was nice, but such wonder only lasted for so long before Alistair began to ignore it.

As they continued he could tell the cold was growing as he felt ice gather in his long hair, but he was thankful to not have to experience the elements like the others. While his gloves may help, Alistair also had several runes on his own body designed to handle the harshest environments.

Even with all these precautions, Alistair did find himself chilly, but that was the unfortunate side effect of the treasure-hunting expedition he and Vittoria had gone on to discover fae artifacts. While he had fully recovered, his body always contained the slightest hint of cold at all times unless he was standing directly next to a fire. An unfortunate side effect, indeed.

He needed no encouragement from Luthen, but he did not nonetheless, as he did step forward while handing over some formal papers.

"Greetings, we are the Dreadlords party from Vel Anir, requesting an audience with the rulers of this fortress. I believe a foreword was sent several weeks ago to inform you of our arrival."

For the time being, until he could establish what standards there were for formalities, Alistair would follow the usual protocol for Anirian diplomacy...Well, all protocols except the sword pointed at their throat.

 

[Marcia]

Much to Marcia's silent dismay, she wondered why they never had to contend with potential foes of a more manageable size. It always had to be behemoths.

Nonetheless, she would join Larrainth in silent contemplation of the lesson within the mission, and while the rancid sadist came off as aloof, Marcia instead came off as, well, greatly inconvenienced. These man mountains were tall enough that the girl had to crane her neck upwards to catch sight of their faces. Not that their faces told her how to beat them.

The knees, probably. Ankles. Hobble the bastards and render them immobile. Everybody was the same height when brought to the ground. It was just a matter of getting in behind those spears...

As Alistair introduced them, she continued to consider Luthen's second question of escape. Hunched with her arms folded across her chest to try and find a morsel more warmth, she surveyed the landscape around them, noting the steep descent back down to the village. She could shield surf down the snow, but that was hardly a collective escape.

Her eyes narrowed as contemplation continued.

 

[Luthen]

Luthen flashed the Initiate's a brief smile, and then turned his attention back towards the Guards.

Both men seemed about as enthused as bricks when Alistair spoke, but the man on the left slowly took a step forward from his statuesque position. "Da."

Was the answer received.

"You have been expected for quite some time, Anirians. Please, follow me." Luthen tilted his head in a respectful nod, and within a matter of moments the pack of Dreadlords found themselves standing within the brutal Keep. It's stark harsh walls, tight corridors, and narrow windows and echo of their own homeland.

It was clear that the Keep was just that; a Fortress. This place was meant to withstand siege, and the village below a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. This place was built to survive even the harshest attack, a bulwark for Neus for anything that may come from the south.

Even the Grand Hall was a craft of military might, set with barricades that doubled as tables and a throne that some might have called a shield itself. Upon it sat a woman, slight, though wearing steel chains woven through a dress of blue and red. Upon her brow rested a diadem, not a crown.

Yet she was not it's only occupant, for dozens upon dozens were arrayed around the tables within the room. As the Anirians stepped inside, silence fell.

She is one of the Boyar. He explained with a flicker of his fingers to the Initiate's.

The Head of a Great House of sorts. It was not quite analogous. Back home the families were all of Separate blood and origin. Here in Neus, the Boyar were all servants of the Tasr, each of their nine keeps held by his authority and whim. Vittoria, translate for me please.

As the Anirians gathered within the crown room, Luthen moved towards the front of the pack. As they stepped, each of them was watched by dozens of warriors, nobles, and common servants. All crowded the Grand Hall, as though they had interrupted the midst of a feast. As they stepped behind their guide, the Boyar called within the Common Tongue.

"It is not oft we see the likes of Aniria in our lands. What cause brings you to darken my doorsteps?"​

Vashe Vysochestvo He signed slowly, deliberately, so that Vittoria would be able to sound out the words. I apologize for my silence, but I lost my tongue long ago. We come to seek entry to your lands, and wish only to retrieve what was brought here by the hands of our own Kin.

Luthen, 'said', continuing on. We wish only to take what it is ours, and depart from these lands in peace.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria stood at Luthen's side, dutifully acting as his voice. She spoke with the intentions of a skilled soldier, kept the translations literal and kept an attentive glance between the Boyar and Luthen. The Common Tongue was not a favourite for the Initiate, but she spoke it well enough that her Anirian accent did not falter over the words like many others.

As she finished the first segment of Luthen's words, Vittoria's eyes drifted to the woman, waiting patiently for her response.

They were prepared for any outcome this may go. By showing their hand the diplomatic way, making their wishes known, it was in the Boyar's power to deny them of this and ask for a higher price to be paid.

Vittoria would have preferred brute force, in not asking for permission to take back what was theirs... but she was not the one in power in this moment. She respected both Dreadlords Luthen and Krixus, and knew acting out would only result in her being distrusted by the Academy.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was glad that they were led through with so little trouble. He always worried when visiting these northern countries that the brutes would enjoy martial activities over their formal duties. Of course, that was largely based on experiences in Nordengard.

Since Luthen was taking the lead with the speaking. Alistair took up a confident position behind him and slightly off to the side. His hands were clasped together resting behind his back as his grey eyes looked dully into the distance. However, he was taking a look over the crowd and the guards. It was clear that several individuals held some magical capabilities, and he was sure there were even more skilled warriors.

There odds for defeating all of them if it came to blows was slim. Escaping with there lives was more doable, but then that would greatly hinder their treasure hunting efforts. No, they needed these people as allies.

Alistair also carefully kept his attention on the Initiates. This was an important diplomatic moment, and he wanted to see where they could conduct themselves as such. Diplomacy as a Dreadlord was a complicated tightrope walk as one needed to come off as reasonable and respectful, but their aura and demeanor needed to make it clear that they were not someone to be walked over.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia had stayed on task the entire time, a small, silent presence that might have blended in somewhat were it not for the shield on her back. She surveyed their trip through the keep, the spartan architecture a signifier of people who valued function over form. This was not a place to hang your hat and call home in comfort but a place of war.

Intimidating. Inhospitable. Impenetrable.

But they were already inside, no?

Her wandering eyes were a mite more careful in the great hall, not wanting to seem like some gormless idiot blatantly surveying for cracks in the armour but still observant. Consciously, Marcia adjusted her posture, standing at attention, even if she looked ridiculous next to the rest of them.

The greatest threat in the keep? Surely it was the woman on the throne who held domain over the imposing warriors who towered over most of their party, at least as an initial thought.

 

[Luthen]

"Take what is yours? Surely if it is in our land, then it is the property of the Tsar."

Luthen had known the words were coming. Walking into someone else's nation and claiming you were there to take was never exactly the best point of diplomacy. Yet the Republic had deemed it important to be up front, not wanting to worsen relations with yet another nation in Arethil.

So what could have been a simple mission of stealth, was instead twisted into one of partial envoys. We mean no disrespect, nor to rob the nation of Neus of it's treasures. What we seek was brought here many years ago, by one of our own.
Luthen explained.

It is a thing of Vel Anir, and with Vel Anir it belongs. He paused for a moment, then continued as he allowed Vittoria time to translate. Whats more, there are dangerous elements after this item, and we would not have them interfere within your lands.

Those words caused the Boyar to stiffen, her expression tightening. What followed was a quick exchange of questions and answers. Flurrying back and forth until finally the Lady of the Keep decided upon her solution. The Dreadlords would be allowed passage into Neus, and be given documents, but upon their exit would have to show whatever it was they wished to take to the Boyar's Court.

A compromise Luthen did not like, but one that he would accept.

We thank you, my Lady. Luthen signed as serf of some sort quickly went about garnering them the proper documents.

Within the hour, the Dreadlords were furnished with everything they needed, and were once more thrust out into the cold of the Neusian countryside.

Better than expected. Luthen signed to Alistair as they came outside. Though perhaps we may require a swift exit later.

He remarked, showing his intent to be flexible on the bargain they had made before turning his attentions towards the two Initiates. Your answers?

Luthen asked with a smile.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria's voice held the right assertiveness when translating Luthen's response to the Boyar. Her cadence was confident, poised, and diplomatic, but there was no need to edge her translations with threats when the mere presence of Dreadlords and Initiates dotted the gathered guests.

She did not back down, did not make herself smaller or quieter as she stood beside Luthen.

And after some moments, they were granted the means to procure the very item they had made this journey to begin with.

Vittoria enjoyed a victory, no matter how small.

"I would fight through the defenses. Their height and brute force would prove difficult, but it is all show. Not enough of them are stationed on the way up, telling me that this route to the Boyar is not one of importance. There is something else they are protecting perhaps, where the rest of the guards patrolling numbers are stationed... unless," she glanced all around, eyes wide with feigned innocence, "they are not a very fortified defenses type of being."

For someone as sure and confident as Vittoria, she could bring all the guards to their knees with pain and step over their bodies to get where she wanted.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"I'll work on that," Alistair responded, but he nodded in agreement. That had gone rather smoothly compared to the other options.

He would need to get a message to their ship about preparing to leave at a moment's notice, but Alistair would also look into maybe setting up some distractions so that the full force of Neus could not come down on them.

Alistair looked curiously to the two initiates having not been aware of the question posed to them. However, Vittoria's answer quickly made the question clear.

He couldn't help a small smirk from passing onto his lips. Alistair knew of both Vittoria and Marcia's competency, they were strong. It was the confidence of the youth to suggested brute forcing through this fortress. While they couldn't see it, the warriors in that hall had been powerful with several having magical auras.

But who knows, if anyone could do it then maybe it would be Vittoria. However, another topic for question was...Did the Boyar need protection? The head of such a fortress likely had their own martial prowess to consider.

Alistair turned expectantly to see what Marcia had to offer.

 

[Marcia]

From the exchange, it seemed that Luthen's questions were perhaps going to be more relevant than Marcia had first anticipated—not right at that moment on their arrival, but instead on their departure with the item in hand.

Back out in the cold, Marcia's posture returned to something altogether more huddled, trying to stave off the cold as Larrainth gave her answer. Still feeling strangely charitable, she refrained from interrupting or rolling her eyes as her psychotic peer gave the answer of violence; her confidence, no matter the circumstance, was forever unshakable.

"I don't think they anticipate that the keep would be breached; it's the bastion of the south," the smallest Initiate returned, thinking back to warfare lectures. The empty hallways had said as much. Whether it was well-founded confidence or arrogance on their part, she had yet to deduce. "I also don't think I'd want to directly fight until we knew how they fought."

Given their history, she could have been accused of disagreeing with Initiate Larrainth for the sake of disagreeing, but it would have been untrue.

"Stealth would be better. Lots of nobles. I could... we could eliminate the Boyar, the biggest threat, and throw the court into disorder in a power vacuum and escape in the chaos."

For all her temper issues and flash points with her peers, it was often forgotten that Marcia took all aspects of training perfectly seriously. The opportunity to prove it in front of two Dreadlords was nothing short of a boon for the girl's reputation.

 

[Luthen]

As they stepped outside, Luthen listened carefully.

Smiling slightly at Vittoria's response. Her method was not too dissimilar from one that he might have taken at her age, when he'd been more brash. It was their way after all. Vel Anir had forged them into hammers, but to Marcia's credit...sometimes a knife was simply better.

Valid observations. He told the girl. The defenses are strangely meager.

He confirmed. But that is because you do not know the fact of those 'brutes'.

The older Dreadlord told Vittoria.

They are, each of them, a shifter. Cursed with the mark of Ursine and his rage. Luthen explained. This fortress is not built as a bastion, but a killing ground.

Proving Vittoria's observations true, but her assumption wrong. The walls and bastion were built to defend, but the winding and confusing corridors were a measure and mark of just how the Neusians would go about defending themselves. Pulling an enemy in, and never giving them a chance to flee. Marcia has the right of it, though the plan comes with it's own difficulties.

Luthen said, explaining after that killing the Boyar would send the Guards into a frenzy, making the option a smoother one for conquest...but not necessarily for survival.

But. Luthen admitted with a grin. My questions were hardly fair, where they? Perhaps a day or three you might have learned the truth, but there was no way for you to know of the curse.

He shook his head. So I think it only fair I teach you all the same.

The Dreadlord said as they once again reached the gate of the fortress. The clouds above beginning to turn black, and snow starting to fall.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Her brows furrowed, sensing the familiarity of which Luthen informed them of the curse in which the large guards suffered.

A killing ground, in which the blood of both sides would be spilled. She communicated with her hands. Not for the ears of any guards that may overhear. They can defend this place as best they can, but now I can see where they could make their last stands.

Still, the confidence of winning did not leave the Initiate. Not when she had been taught to wreck devastation and not let anyone live, the Republic quickly changed it's tune but seemed to give up pacifying Vittoria. The cuffs never lasted long on her, did nothing to dull her power and might.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Luthen's explanation of the guard's magic had been within Alistair's suspicions, but it was good to have them confirmed. Their auras had reminded him of a mix of Killien's aura and the shamanistic auras of the savannah and the tundra.

Werecreatures were nasty opponents in any battle but had certain weaknesses that could be targeted. Perhaps a mix of Vittoria's and Marcia's strategies would work best. Overwhelming force, but through subtle means so as meticulously remove each guard from the board and ensure they did not rise up from any sort of frenzy.

While that was obviously a slower process, containing such creatures within a siege might actually be the perfect scenario for such actions.

Alistair wandered off as their conversation continued, as he stopped to haggle with a merchant for five thick and stocky mounts that could handle the cold weather of Neus. Four for them to ride, and then the fifth for any supplies that needed to be carried. Thankfully, Alistair had managed to drop the price slightly, but he knew he had been taken advantage of slightly as soon as the merchant had heard his accent.

He met the others back at the gate shortly after their arrival.

 

[Marcia]

Well, now she definitely didn't want to fight them directly.

Marcia remained firmly planted in reality, and the thought of melee combat against massive shifting beastmen filled her head with visions of future death. Her skillset wasn't one for going toe-to-toe with behemoths, much to her chagrin, so if things did go awry, she would have to seek a hiding place to strike with her reflection instead.

In a way, she was jealous of their curse, if only to be formidable for a moment. A thought that she kept firmly to herself with a slight frown.

"It would be good to know," the girl finally spoke, sticking her hands back into her armpits as it might have made a damned bit of difference against the biting cold that crept into her petite frame. "I've had enough of the cold for a lifetime."

 

[Luthen]

Luthen grinned at Vittoria. You remind me of someone I grew up with.

The Elder Dreadlord said, reminiscing about his old friend Kyra. She had passed in his time 'away', lost to a brief conflict with the Elves of Leth'Lorel. She had been a vicious woman, though far more upbeat than Vittoria seemed to be.

Still, he could see the same spark, and it brought with him a wave of nostalgia.

The trick is a simple one. A spell actually.He began to explain as Alistair went about fetching horses for them. Their path would take them to the interior of Neus. The last hints of the Artifact appearing around an ancient and hallowed ground called Kurtek. A bit of true Arcana.

Luthen grinned, and then instructed both of the girls as they waited at the stable corner. Walking them through the steps of the small spell, and explaining what it did.

The magic was nothing more than a simple ward, spoke in two lines, and creating a natural flow of air around the body that acted as both insulator and guard. It would not save someone from exposure completely, but the barrier was another layer. One that trapped the bodies warmth against the skin better than any article of clothing. Ensure, always, you dispell the effect before battle. It is quite easy overexert oneself during it's use, and there is nothing more embarassing than a Dreadlord dying due to heatstroke."

He finished with a quiet laugh, mirth running through and around him.