Open Chronicles The Heart of Dae'lich'Qal

[Nikolos]

Destiny. Fate. Only words. Some claim that the future is already written, inescapable. Fixed. They live, bound to that which has not yet been. That which does not exist. Others however, live not for such things. Nikolos could never bare such restriction, nor would he ever seek to. He lives now and before, but what would be to come? To ask him, a simple answer is always given: who can say?

He'd met with wizards, knights, and commoner alike, and for all their differences one thing always stayed the same. They all get sick, and they all die. Perhaps destiny was their way of coping with the tragedy of life, their escape from the unfair reality of being. Not he, no. For he was alive now, and now is the only time he would be.

Some times life indeed was terrible – even hell. He knew this, he had felt it, wrenching apart the very fibers of his heart. But so long as he drew breath, those wounds could heal. Yes, there was great pain, but hell, there was also great joy – especially with a bottle nearby.

As snow fell upon the land, behind the doors of the Den of Dartston – an tavern named after the small town near the Eaglehead it was set - he'd found such a bottle.

Inside was roaring with excitement, with many a traveler and local alike joined in song and dance and drink. Nikolos stood in a semi circle around a group of musicians playing heartily over the crowd. There, with arms wrapped around the necks of those either side he swayed and drank and sang with delight.

In the corner a great slam as fists hit the table and shouts and taunts and bickering erupted as the test of strength was won. In another corner, drunken travelers flirted with the barmaids, while the bar itself was damn near packed and the door never long shut.

“Drink up me laddies and ladies, drink up me friends and me foes, for tonight we dine with whiskey and wine, and the morrow can keep all its woes!”​

Laughter and song filled the air, and the world around them was gone. All there was, was this.

 

[Myrra]

Gin was a bitter drink, especially the cheapest swill they had available. Having a coin-purse that was nearly empty and with few prospects in the small town of whatever left her with limited options when it came to spirits. Had her wallet been fatter she'd probably be sipping on a fine bourbon, a complex wine, or maybe even seen what kind of cocktails the barmaid from the Den of Darston could whip up.

Instead she was stuck with the lowest quality and cheapest gin here. The dust forming around the bottle a clear indication of how popular the beverage was. Myrra poured another shot of the clear fluid into her shot glass and knocked it back. Her mouth opened wide, crimson eyes shutting tight, as the gin burned while traversing down her throat.

It'd do her good to forget today. After arriving in the town hoping for prospects she found the only group of bumpkins hiring weren't interested in 'darkies or elves and you're both'. She'd have to sleep outside, again, and hope to find a settlement with a more open mind towards those of other races.

"Wish they didn't let you in here," some tall local said to her as he approached her table. "Trying to enjoy a nice evening and I gotta stare at something like you all night."

Typically the dark elven woman was diplomatic. Cordial even. But after the day she had and the third of a bottle of gin common sense or reason weren't going to win out against the idiocy of a human rube.

"Avert your eyes then. I'm giving you one chance to leave me alone," Myrra mutted back.

The overall wearing farmboy let out a chuckle, "you're giving me one chance? I see I need to teach you a lesson and throw your ass outta here into the cold." He cracked his knuckles as he moved towards the woman with a glint in his green eyes.

Around the elven woman the air became humid, particulates of moisture forming and coalescing into a singular point as she lifted her left hand in an open palm. Droplets of water pressed through the pores of her palm and collided with the fluid in the air swirling around her until a large oval of water was formed. The harasser passed for a second at the sight of this while Myrra simply looked towards him with a bit of glee on her face.

Rippling, bubbling, and stem began to emanate from the ball of water until suddenly it went spiraling towards the man. As the superheated fluid collided with his torso the audible singe of flesh echoed through the den. He screamed in pain and writhed on the ground in agony as the dark skinned elf shouted, "oh my, he spilled his tea all over his chest!"

Alcohol tended to compound the feelings of wooziness after using her magic. It drew from the water within her own blood after all. It was worth it to teach the village idiot a lesson though, even if her head began to pound. She glanced towards one of the passing barmaids who was trying to assist the local, raised a hand, and asked, "could I get a glass of water when you've got him situated?"

 

[Nikolos]

With a loud thud the man hit the floor, and all went silent. The music came to a sudden halt, and murmurs circled the room. All eyes turned to the altercation. As the drow woman addressed the barmaid, another man came close dressed in similar garb to the first. An accusing finger pointed to her, and he demanded her removal. As he moved to carry it out, something stopped him.

A hand was firmly placed upon his shoulder, and nearly slurred words were heard, “such a waste isn't it?”

“What?” the man said as he turned around to see who'd stopped him. There was Nikolos, with an amused grin spread over his lips.

“This!”

And the glass mug in hand met with his head, and shattered into little shards. He'd hit him so little more than a nasty goose-egg would form, and maybe a little split but nothing too harsh. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed in a heap.

Still, for yet another moment it was quiet and tense. Nikolos looked down at the two farm-hands and then shot a glance to the drow, paired with a wink.

Then he threw his arms into the air, and addressed the crowd with a victorious shout. And then the tension was cut, and they all cheered gleefully as they returned to their carousing and carrying on.

“Can someone clean up this mess,” he hollered, displaying some coin in his hand.

“Yeaah!” a couple stout lads replied, and Nikolos tossed them their coin and left them to deal with them. He placed an encouraging hand on the barmaids shoulder, who had whimpered away amid the sudden burst of violence.

“My deepest apologies, but I could not allow these pests to disturb your patrons! We're having far, far too much fun.” Another wink was offered, and a charming smile.

The barmaid blushed and hurried away. He chuckled, and wisped himself past the boys cleaning up to slid himself comfortably into the seat across from Myrra, resting his arm atop its back.

He sat there with the same smile on his face, his cheeks flush from the drink and his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Now tell me, how is it one so beautiful sits here all alone.” He spotted the dusty bottle, “and so poorly tended! Barmaid!”
He addressed her as she came near with water for the lady across him, and he slid some coin onto the table, “another drink for her as well. A real one.”

Pleased with himself, he leaned back in his chair with a confident posture and the same kindled expression on his face.

 

[Myrra]

It was a dizzying array that transpired before the human sat himself at her table. Not surprising that the overall wearing moron had a friend to back him up and the elven woman was grateful to have someone aid her from a bloody nose or the effort of having to expend more magic.

Her gaze jumped back and forth between the man sitting across from her and the mess of people pulling the farmhands off or cleaning up shattered glass.

“Don’t think the locals care for dark elves much,” she offered to explain her loneliness.

Within seconds of the glass of water arriving Myrra had drank it entirely. She sat the now empty glass down and gestured for a refill before eyeing the gold placed onto the table.

Cutting a brief smirk at the man she said, “I’ll take a bourbon.” Her head nodded in appreciation at the gentleman and she added, “thanks, stranger, I’m Myrra.”

Humans were pretty straightforward. Easy to understand. Generally motivated by greed or a sense of wanting to accomplish something quickly. She couldn’t blame them, elves were supposed to live for a few centuries and if she were human and cursed to live for just a few decades it was likely she’d be a bit more ambitious as well.

Her jet black skinned hand poured another shot of gin while she waited on the bourbon. Reflecting on all that had a sobering effect and that just wouldn’t do. She kicked the glass back and swallowed another painful mouthful of liquor. Intending it to be graceful and seamless she clumsily slid the bottle across the table, having to catch it before it tipped over, and gestured for her visitor to have a shot.

“Wouldn’t do for us to be unevenly inebriated,” she joked.

 

[Nikolos]

“Well" he said, giving a side eyed glance to the buffoons being hauled out, “not the most cultured lot, I suppose.” His eyes shot back to her, amused.

He raised a hand after her request, seconding it. Bourbon sounded like an excellent addition to the elixir he'd mixed within himself. When she introduced herself, he shot up and playfully bowed, the gentle sway of the drink just now becoming evident.

“My lady Myrra, I am honored.” He stood up right once more and then seated himself in the same casual manner as before, “I am Nikolos… and I'm not from here,” he chuckled.

She slid him the bottle, and he watched it keenly. He took it, and poured himself a glass.

“No…no, that wouldn't do at all.”

Just as he drank, the barmaid arrived with their requested drinks, and before he'd even finished his shot he was rolling his free hand through the air, motioning for another two to be brought.

“In fact, very few of us here tonight are locals.” He leaned in a bit, “we're on a bit of a quest…” he drank from his bourbon, “but what brings you here? It certainly can't be…that.” He pointed at the bottle of gin.

Just then, a rather stout man hollered out over the crowd. He was tall, with hair red as fire and a thick and curled beard. The noise settled down as he addressed those inside.

“Right, those who know what we're doing shut up and listen. Those who don't, you too. You might be interested…” he drank from a large mug, and wiped it away as belched before continuing, “… we make way for Darrington tomorrow mid-day and -"

“Why so late?” a man hollered out.

“Because I'll be hung over and I'm in charge.”

The room echoed with laughter and chuckles before the man piped them down once more.

“We'll be there within three days, the rest of the convoy meets us there. Then, the fun part.” Another swig, “two days past Darrington, we make for a tomb. This tomb is rumored to be filled with the plunder of a hundred nations, more gold than you could spend in a lifetime. And its all ours! But… there is one other thing.

“An object, said to be quite large and quite difficult to reach. That is our main prize, now the mage who found these texts will turn us all into frogs if we fuck around, and there’s more gold for each of us there than this damn thing is worth. I don't know why he wants it, and I don't care. But he's funding this whole thing, including your drink.

“So… if anyone wants to join us, you'll see us outside tomorrow. Dress warm, its going to get cold where we're going. Alright, drink up.”

The crowd cheered and grew even more lively, even more excited.

And there sat Nikolos, a wide smile spread across his face, “care to join us?”

 

[Myrra]

Sweet, smokey notes filled her nostrils as she held the glass of bourbon under her nose. The first small sip she took in was so exhilarating that it brought a warmth that spread up through her cheeks and glimmered in her scarlet eyes.

The elven lady opened her mouth to speak but right as the first syllable attempted to pass through her teeth the bearded pudgy man stood and explained the quest most of the patrons seemed to be undergoing. Once he was finished she caught sight of a wide-grinning Nikolos asking if she were eager to join their little odyssey.

“I’ve got nothing anchoring me here,” Myrra confessed as she swallowed and the warmth of the bourbon spread down her chest. “I actually came here looking for work, none to be found until just now. What kind of haul are we actually expecting?”

Plunder of a hundred nations was something leaders promised to impressionable young men. Those kinds of guarantees made her extremely skeptical. The scrunch of her nose, raising of thin white eyebrows, and glossy eyes all translated her disbelief to any who looked at her. Still, she was definitely in need of coin and would be interested in even a modest payday at this point. Beggars can’t be choosers after all.

Her index finger danced along the edge of her cup before she took another deep sip of the golden liquid in her glass, red smearing across her face as she became more intoxicated. One corner of her lips tugged upwards in a halfway hint of a smile.

“Oh, and thanks for the drink Nikolos,” she added.

 

[Faelin K'Abveirin]

(later)

Yet another elf made their way to this place, this time an eastern dark elf.
Quite far from his ancestral homeland, but this one has almost been to every reach of the world. And it didn't look like he'll stop travelling any time soon either.

Not only a silversmith and spelunker, but the elf also had a keen eye for treasure.
He made his way to the meeting place designated for this little trip, wearing two layers of cloaks. The bottom layer was magical the top layer was green with a tartan pattern.

»I hope debauchery has not dulled any senses.« The elf remarked in a disinterested tone as people began appearing. He seemingly appeared as if out of nowhere, but it was clear he was at least aware yesterday's sheanigary.

 

[Nikolos]

When Nikolos first opened his eyes, he couldn't see much more than a blur. His eyes were dry, and they stung. He rubbed one as he lifted his head from where it had rested: on the bar top. In his other hand he still grasped a large mug, with about a third of whatever the hell it was left in it. As his vision began to return, he looked around to see a few figures either passed out about the place, or likewise coming to and sorting themselves out.

He turned back to the drink and finished it.

God awful, whatever it was. But it definitely was not just one thing.

That might have been a mistake... nahhh.

Hand on his head, he shuffled his way to the door and stepped outside onto the covered porch. It was bright. Last night's snow fall had blanketed almost everything, and a crisp chill was in the air. It invigorated him. While he hated the cold, he also loved it, hating the heat much more.

He reached into his coat with a groan. His dehydration paired with a less than ideal sleeping position stiffened him, and he ached. He pulled from within a pipe, and a small tin. He prepped it as he stood there, and then lit it, waving the matchstick out.

Out before him he saw an assortment of men and women gathering. Many of whom were present were the primary work force: sappers, demolition, scouts, climbers, and cooks. Only a few of them were hired muscle – like him. Those not present were primarily transport for materials on the way there, and the loot on the way back, and more muscle.

He looked out, and he saw a dark figure. Stuck out like a sore thumb here. At first, he thought they had been last night's acquaintance, and he raised his arm to wave. But he quickly realized his mistake and drove his hand through his hair in an attempt to appear casual.

He chuckled to himself and wondered if maybe this other dark elf was of any familiarity to Myrra – who he only now realized he had totally lost track of.

Hmm… he pondered, a hint of amusement washing over him, I hope not.

 

[Myrra]

Rays of sunlight served as an unwelcome alarm. As consciousness jolted back the young dark elven woman found herself outside wrapped in a large fur blanket that was not her own. She jerked her head from one side to the other in an attempt to see if the owner of the blanket was around. No such luck. How had she ended up outdoors?

The very last thing she could recall from the night was having someone named… Nikomas… or Nicademus… or maybe Nikolometer... he bought her a drink. Two drinks in fact. Or maybe three? Had she spent the entire night talking to whoever this fellow was? All Myrra could tell for certain right now was that a large contingency of people were gathering outside the tavern for some unknown reason.

Also, the sun was obnoxiously bright and she could use about seven glasses of water. Both hands rose up quickly to cradle her head from the searing headache of an unsurprising hangover.

While wallowing in self pity the drow surveyed the various laborers and soldiers of the gathering caravan until she focused in on another dark skinned elf. Though she was uneducated in the ways of her people this individual looked a bit different than her. Probably from some other tribe or subset of breeding than the Sharathi that she was informed she belonged to. Still, interesting that there was a close cousin of some sort amongst this group of explorers. Maybe she would take the Nikomerdius person up on his offer to join them.

Almost on cue the door of the pub burst open and Nikolomon ruptured out of it. Looking just as disoriented and hungover as she felt it took her a few seconds to recognize him. For a brief period she just sat there and gauged his reaction to the crowd while pulled her covering in closer, willing the cold air to be repelled. In addition to the seven glasses of water Myrra would’ve done just about anything for a hot tea or good cup of coffee.

“It’s cold,” the elf said, “and supposed to get colder where they’re headed.”

Her lips formulated a grin towards the man she had conversed with the previous evening. God, she was struggling to remember his name… a Niko-something. They really had drank far too much. It had been awhile she last had enough alcohol to forget the entire evening and she forgot just how miserable the next day could feel.

With one hand clutching her forehead she questioned, “so, uh, buddy, did I commit to accompany you all last night? I can’t seem to remember our conversation.”

 

[Nikolos]

“It’s cold,” the elf said, “and supposed to get colder where they’re headed.”

Nikolos' shoulders raised a bit, but he did his best to keep his composure.

She'd scared the absolute shit out of him. But, after a moment of recollection he let out a chuckle, and puffed on the pipe he held. He gave his head a shake.

"No my lady, I'm afraid you haven't committed anything on our account." He grinned, "as for whatever got you that," referring to the awfully cozy looking blanket she'd acquired, "well I only remember so much..."

He puffed a few more times, looking curiously out at Faelin K'Abveirin, "friend of yours?"

 

[Focraig'Diin]

This tavern was thankfully, not at all like the one before. No giant golem ready to crush everything into paste and no invasion of iron men. He could have done much better with the crowd and all, but he had been walking nonstop for the better part of the morning, with only a dried apple for company. He needed food. Preferably a big meal, but he wasn't all that picky. Plus he needed more gold than what he had on hand, and he would best find a job capable of providing it, as soon as he could.

The crowd at the foot of the establishment drew his curiosity, and he skirted around the edge of the gathering to get a hint of the attraction. A dungeon party? Color him interested, as he overheard the snippets of conversation in the crowd. In a tomb far from this area, and quite cold? An ideal job... hopefully. He was no stranger to the cold, given his craft.

Opening the door, he was greeted by a bunch of people knocked out cold, some stirring awake and recalling whatever party had unfolded in their alcohol-filled debauchery that presumably unfolded the previous night. Breathing a plume of mist to clear his body of the cold energy, he wondered where to start. Best begin directly, he thought, taking a seat at the bartop. With an inhale, the cold air that had flowed into the bar was drawn into his own body, processed and converted into streams of frost, as the icy blue veins on his face demonstrated. The bar's temperature rose to a comfortable level.

"I've coming looking for a quick way to coin. Are there any suggestions?"

Hopefully these chaps were friendly.

 

[Faelin K'Abveirin]

'Twas not hard to notice when people look at you. Faelin shook his head and glanced back at the expedition man.

Curious, another dark elf. Sharathi by the looks of it. Wonder what led her to leave her mountain fortresses.
Respectively, he wondered if they wondered what cave he just skulked off.

Faelin averted his gaze, but walked somewha tcloser to the commune was more compast.

 

[Nikolos]

Nikolos puffed away on his pipe as he contemplated the second dark elf's appearance, when suddenly his side grew very cold.

He was so preoccupied with what the drink had done to his senses and what demanded all he had left of them, that he'd never have noticed Focraig'Diin walking by him to enter the Den had it not been for the icy chill he felt when the man walked by. A quite literal chill.

He gave a bit of a shake, and a brr... and said, turning to Myrra and pointing behind him with his thumb, "is that guy alright?"

Inside​

Normally, the barkeep would never have approved his establishment to have been made in such a state. But these were not locals who knew his expectation. And there were a lot of them. But... they also paid very well. Or rather he guess, some mage from somewhere did.

He had to bite the coin to be sure, but as far as he could tell it was real.

So, he patiently wiped up here and there as stragglers who never made it out of the bar or back to their rooms one by one picked themselves up.

A more lively one entered in, not one he recognized. He straightened up a bit and propped himself up at the bar.

"I've coming looking for a quick way to coin. Are there any suggestions?"

"Aye. That lot you see out front. They drink every night, every where they go, they eat as much as they want, damn well do whatever they want and its all paid for. They're off for somethin, and some wizard or what-not hired'em, payin their way to."

The barkeep looked around the room, "hence the state of affairs you see here. So, can I get you anything else? If not the ring leader will likely be out shortly. Said they're leavin' 'round noon."

 

[Myrra]

Myrra's head gestured down while a balled fist covered by the fur blanket rose the garment upwards. Her cheeks softened as she formed a thin smile and remarked, "oh this? I assume I procured it from someone." The drow looked over towards Faelin before muttering, "finders keepers and all that."

"If your group will have me, I'll accompany you. There's nothing else on the horizon for now."

A few puffs from the gentleman's pipe seemed to summon an unusual individual and a draft of cold air. The dark elf rose to her feet, bringing the fur in tight to repel the chill which had seemingly possessed the air. Blood rushed towards her head, jolting the full sensation of a terrible hangover to life. She laid the center of her forehead into the open palm of her right hand. Squinting her eyes shut to block out the sun she turned her gaze back at the man she had met last night.

"He doesn't seem as hungover as your or I," she raised her head up causing her hair to resemble spilled milk, "so I'd say he's doing alright for himself."

Her right hand retreated back into the warmth of her new blanket before she nodded in Faelin's direction, noticing that he had been inching closer to the caravan of would-be treasure hunters.

 

[Nikolos]

Nikolos grinned, and bought it. He doubted she'd have much to do with any of the lot here, local or otherwise. But, as he stood out in the cold he couldn't help but think he wouldn't mind one of those heavy blankets... what with finders keepers and all that.

"If your group will have me, I'll accompany you. There's nothing else on the horizon for now."

"Well of course you'll be welcome. And if anyone has a problem with that well... they'll end up like our friends last night!" he chuckled, "but I'll tell you this. We're pretty well paid for everything until we get to the tomb. Everything after that well... this customer wants his prize, delivered."

He himself was somewhat wary of what some of the others might do, especially those he had not yet met - the rest of the caravan. He had little fear any could best him in a sortie, but whilst he slept? Well he needed both eyes for that. Maybe Myrra could prove to be a trusted friend through this trip.

Or perhaps not.

He couldn't help but take the chance, doing so had gotten him this far.

"He doesn't seem as hungover as your or I," she raised her head up causing her hair to resemble spilled milk, "so I'd say he's doing alright for himself."

Her right hand retreated back into the warmth of her new blanket before she nodded in Faelin's direction, noticing that he had been inching closer to the caravan of would-be treasure hunters.

"No, I suppose he doesn't..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Faelin averted his gaze, but walked somewhat closer to the commune was more compast.

"Alright you lot!"

The ring leader had managed to pry himself from his bed, and make his way down the stairs of the Den of Dartston and out the door to meet with the gathering band of money hungry treasure-hunters and hired swords.

"We'll be out of here within the hour and-" the man stopped mid sentence, noticing that a dark elf had decided to join their troop, "-and we'll make for our next stop. We'll be sleeping under the stars quite a bit from here on our so... well I warned ya."

His eyes traveled across the group, surveying if any other unexpected parties had taken interest to their journey. Just there, back on the Den's porch stood Nikolos - one of his best swords - and yet another dark elf standing there with him!

With a toothy grin, he made his way out from in front of the crowd and thought about how beneficial this turn of events could prove to be. Dark elves were good underground.

It never crossed his mind they may have ulterior motives of their own. Or perhaps someone else did for them.

 

[Faelin K'Abveirin]

»Hardly a concern, « the dark elf mentioned at the trip prospects. First time raising his voice ever since arriving at this overworld place.

Faelin re-tilted his straw hat to shade his eyes from the light. Travel with overworlds was such a drag most of the time. Imagine only travelling during the night, in pitch darkness!
However, the notion of skulking into some indoor place, dungeon or cavern, or whatever that final destination might be, would prove quite a relief.

 

[Focraig'Diin]

"If it is for coin, I may be of service. Hired swords and warriors may be sufficient, but magic never hurts." The mage rung in, compounded as he breathed in deep, and those in the tavern felt the chill simply disappear.

Breathing a puff of frosted mist, the mage bowed slightly in greetings. "Traveling mage Focraig'Diin. If you would have me, you need not dread the chill of your destination." Ice was his domain, and it did not necessarily mean creating frost, as his previous performance demonstrated.

 

[Myrra]

Seemed like a good enough gig. Considering her lack of funds a near unlimited purse of whoever was financing this venture sounded wonderful. Even if it was just until they arrived at whatever tomb or crypt they'd be hunting. Plus having an ally to rely on in a group this size was about the best start possible.

"Excellent," she replied, "and by the sounds of things we're about to be off."

Myrra saw the head honcho of the expedition glance over towards her and the man she had been conversing with. He stared at her and grinned, something obviously clicking into position within his brain. The dark elven woman removed her blanket, folded it and flung it into her travel sack.

She looked over at the human leader of the group and questioned Nikolos, "friend of yours?"

 

[Nikolos]

She looked over at the human leader of the group and questioned Nikolos, "friend of yours?"

A half smirk, "friend," he repeated.

You could call him that, he was as much a friend as anyway he supposed.

"Yes, I've worked with him on several occasions. He's a decent enough man. Has always made sure I've been paid anyway. Bit of a whiner though, it always" his voice changed, becoming somewhat nasally, "Nikolos this, Nikolos that." then it changed back, "I mean, he's the one who gets these jobs, what do I know?" he laughed.

Truth be known that might not have been completely transparent, since after their first joint effort Nikolo's was forced to threaten the man with a life as a handless man. Since then though, it had been a fruitful relationship between the two and for all Nikolos knew that had been the end of that. And it more or less was. The ring leader was a business man, and he did have an interest in keeping good contacts. Nikolos had proven to be one, as had several of the others here today.

"His name is Garfield. Don't let him push you around... he wouldn't be able to do what he does without the likes of us."

~*~*~*~
​

Garfield trudged along his way to a horse. While some were bound in groups of two or four to a carriage or a wagon, his along with many others were free to be ridden. With what he provided and what the town could likely provide there would be more than enough transport for them to get to the next town. Some reorganization might be neccesary after that, depending on how much of the convoy had made it.

As he moved to climb up his horse, a voice sounded from behind him.

"Traveling mage Focraig'Diin. If you would have me, you need not dread the chill of your destination."

He'd actually only just moments ago wondered why the blazes he was getting so chilled suddenly. He turned to meet the man as he addressed him, a sort of "what the?" look in his eye.

"Traveling mage eh?" A hand came up to rasp against his beard as he scratched at his chin, "Focraig'Diin ? Bit of a mouthful eh, but that's alright," he shivered, then extended a hand "Garfield's the name. If you're coming with us, I'll see to it you're paid well. The more you do, the more you get paid... but this job is basically like a pit of money with the guy who hired us'n'all. As long as you're with us, you might as well be sticking your arms in a big pot of gold and stuffin your pockets with as much as you can."

He pointed over to the newcomer, Faelin K'Abveirin "that lad look's like he's a newcomer too. Could use a partner." He then gestured in a manner that expressed his disinterest in who or what the mage chose to do.

~*~*~*~
​

Nikolos turned to Myrra, puffing away on his pipe, "why don't we go meet our new friend over there before we head out, shall we?" He nodded toward Faelin, and then started on his way.

 

[Faelin K'Abveirin]

The elf meandered over to his skewbald nag, saddling up and making himself comfortable, at least for a moment. It seems like high time they depart. Though it wasn't quite time yet.

His eyes gazed over at the people either pointing at him or walking towards him.
Wonderful. Splendid actually.
Faelin disliked attention, but he put up a somewhat friendly facade on for the sake of conversation.

»Servus,« he removed his hat, waving it a bit.

 

[Myrra]

Generally, when another repeated the word ‘friend’ and immediately went into their working relationship Myrra had learned that it meant they weren’t friends in any discernible fashion. Acquaintances. Colleagues. The kind of person you would be cordial to but whom you’d refrain from fully trusting. You might tell them your favorite kind of food but not your internal dreams and desires. That seemed to be the context of the relationship between Nikolos and this Garfield character.

As for the dark elven woman, well, she didn’t really know either of them. But Nikolos had bought her alcohol the night prior so if it came down to it she’d plunge a dagger through Garfield’s heart before she would Nikolos’. You get to know a person after you’ve shared a drink or two with them. Even if you can’t remember it the next day.

“No one pushes me around, and yeah, let’s go say hi to the lonely drow over there,” Myrra responded with a playful tease in her voice.

As they approached the other elf he gave a wave of his hat and provided the name ‘Servus’ to the pair. Servus didn’t seem the talkative sort but maybe that was a guard. Probably smart to be careful about forming connections in a party full of mercenaries for hire. Never really certain who you can or cannot trust afterall.

The red eyed elf looked at him and said, “Servus? I’m Myrra, nice to meet you.”

She glanced back towards Nikolos, the frosty air turning her cheeks a pale gray instead of their usual jet black, and added, “this is Niko, uh, this is a friend of mine who’s been with the caravan a bit longer than myself.”

 

[Nikolos]

Nikolos nodded his head to Servus, "Nikolos," he added to Myrra's introduction, "I've been with these lads for a few weeks now, good bunch. They just want money, and there's lots to go around."

He didn't feel much need to elaborate further. For the most part he expected a rather uneventful journey. The manpower consisted mainly of labor force, with but a few hired swords deemed needed but any extras taken in happily.

Kind of curious now that he thought of it, but he wasn't interested in knowing a whole lot on this one. Get in, get out, get paid the way there and get the rest later. Good enough.

He tucked his hand into his coat, swigging from a flask before putting it back in its place to resume puffing on his pipe.

Garfield had started on his way, and those gathered began to follow behind in no particular formation.

Nikolos started toward a horse-drawn wagon, which had been fitted with benches along either side. Only a few spaces aboard this one were occupied, and Nikolos knew the driver. He was a drunk, but a good one.

He beckoned for Myrra to join him aboard if she had no other transport, and for Servus to ride alongside.

Then he turned to the man who had been speaking with Garfield, inviting him along as well with the wave of his arm.

Myrra Focraig'Diin Faelin K'Abveirin

 

[Myrra]

Brisk air continued to pelt Myrra’s cheeks. The cold was already uncomfortable and it promised to worsen as the entourage traveled. Part of her wished to ditch the entire effort, move somewhere warmer. But that wouldn’t do. Wasn’t in her nature to quit at something. Especially when so much gold was on the line.

As Nikolos gestured for her to join him in the wagon he had climbed up to the drow woman chose to oblige. If she found a human that wasn’t a racist it was usually a good sign. Wise to keep a man like that close.

Once she had seated next to Nikolos the elf turned in his direction and said, “it truly is miserable out here, huh?”

The treasure she was promised had better be true if it required her to freeze to the bone in order to obtain it.

 

[Focraig'Diin]

He joined the entourage in hopes of gold to line his pockets, and hopefully the location they were headed had some trace of what he was really after. Only things he had to work with were scant rumors and no real evidence.

It was only natural to be this difficult however, to track down a literal shadow in time.

"Eihwas."

With that one murmur, the very air seemed to still. The chill of the air lessened ever so slightly, and would continue to do so over a period of time. In an hour, compared to the chill of winter, the group would feel something more of an autumn wind. Cold, yes, but a relief compared to the biting winds.

A trick he had picked up from a rune scroll of ice magic in Elbion. It wasn't his brand of magics, as it drew from sources he was unused to flexing. And he struck an odd view to the others, breathing a plume of mist every few moments, a pipe in his mouth.

*Cough!* "Excuse my... behavior, but this is the best I can do for the cold. Better if it were redirected than nothing, no?"

He struck the image of someone smoking for the first time, choking on the pipe. In reality, he was not used to alteration of weather and temperature on the current scale he was using, funneling it all into himself using the rune as a conduit. The puffs of mist were a means to vent the excess cold.

Still, an image that garnered chuckles from the group.

"First time smokin', mage?"

In response, Focraig tapped at the pipe, a hollow sound ringing from the object. Then turned it to show it wasn't even lit either. "Nothing to smoke in here. Doubt I could get a flame going with these hands." He waved his fingers, flecks of snow trailing off his hands.

That got more laughs, as the mage chuckled along with them. He turned to the elf and the apparent leader of the group, hoisting himself up on the wagon and taking a seat opposing them. With a puff of his own pipe, the object freezing over slightly as mist blew out the top like a chimney, the mage settled in his seat, the exhaled mist forming into a rune that settled atop the pipe.

"So long as that's there," the mage pointed at the rune, "The cold should be a bit more tolerable. At my expense."

He turned to the others who had not yet boarded. "C'mon then. Clock is ticking!"

Myrra Nikolos Faelin K'Abveirin

 

[Faelin K'Abveirin]

»Treading in-not-so-bad-cold is one thing, but how far is this place again?« Faelin rose his head, gazing at the entire party.
The body of his nag swaying left and right, left and right as if she were some kind of lizard.