Private Tales To war, we must idle

[Neremyn Virvyre]

"Dahkness...dahkness as far as the eye can see…” The crone uttered with dried lips peeled back, revealing teeth of various shades and a single canine molded in gold. Ere found the comment somewhat ironic given that the aging woman had only one eye to top off her unique ensemble.

“Darkness?” He stated with that heightened prevailing tone, giving the impression that he was asking a sincere question. And not poking fun at her.

“Dahkness.” She nodded, sagely.
“Is it coming or is it already here?” He retorted.
She thought for a moment and nodded, kneeling forward to give her ghastly image more breath across the edge of the candlelit flame. “Boff. Uh-huh, boff indeed.”
“Both? How can it be here and still be coming?” The elf responded incredulously, obviously prolonging the jest.
“Like a fog. Ya be in it. But it still got a ways to go.”
“Ahh…” He nodded. “Like a blizzard...or a war?”
“Hmmm…” She responded with another pause. “Like boff.”

Spurdocks Spur. Ere found that to be quite the clever and convenient name for the castle. While the Baron Spurdock had assuredly seen revisions in his lineage, it felt oddly on the nose for his name to so closely match his holdings on this hill. The castle was nothing more than a fortified hold with various internal anatomies that gave it the vaguest notion of a functioning village. A tavern, resource stockpiling, smithy and leather worker, and even a small brothel that serviced the guardsman, clergymen, and various banner men of the ruling families. But what made it unique was its geographical position.

Spurdocks Spur sat to the West of the Iron Fortress and if the Spine were so appropriately named, this place would be the terminal signs of bone cancer along the 8th rib down, somewhere around the kidney. Sitting on a hill that stood steeply on one side and heavily fortified on the other, it stood as a monument to man's capability for walling himself up.

On his way through, Ere had found himself caught between a blizzard, this spur castle, and the thought of wandering in the cold dark only to stumble upon roaming caravans of tribal Orcs. He had to contemplate on his options for a good while but found himself treading on more cautious paths. The sort of paths that whispered of war and smelled of torch fire. This Baron had a way about himself, the people had told the elf. The sort of way that pinned him between the church coffers and the towering pulpit, speaking of the righteous alms and the power of war. This land was at war.

Ere cared little for it but he was a man of comfort. So he found himself in this tavern, speaking to a washed up soothsayer, and drinking stale beer as the snowflakes drifted by. Maybe he’d catch the evening sermon or maybe he’d rent himself a room in the tavern; move on when the blizzard had passed.

“For anov’er coin, I’ll tell ya your fuchah…” The crone purred. Ere simply shook his head and leaned back to the chorus of creaky boards. “Might pass of boredom if you give everything away…”

Eislyn Gray

 

[Eislyn Gray]

A figure in a brunswick green cloak came down the tavern stairs in the back, half hued by shadows. Cowl hid her features. A swirl of thick skirts swooshed around her ankles, laced up with thick dusty-brown boots. Stopping at the furthest edge of the bar, her fingers slid something from her pocket and handed it to the barkeep, exchanging a few words with the man.

"....discretion would be appreciated."

Turning, the woman hugged the cloak tightly around herself and began weaving through the others in the crowded tavern taking shelter from the approaching storm. She was very purposefully moving against the flow. Away from the warmth and safety and toward what lay beyond the door.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

It wasn’t her outfit or appearance that caught Ere's attention. Though, admittedly, she didn’t seem the sort of rabble that frequented such renowned establishment. No, it was how she drifted away from the group, away from the brick and mantle that piped out waves of heat from cinder and belching coal. Towards the door and towards the blizzard, towards the cold that he had put so much effort in to avoid…

“Hey ka-nife ears…”
“It’s dagger ears…” A man whispered as he nudged his companion. A skinny fellow, digging his elbow into a pompous figure of a man who wore pants that sagged at the waist and a bandanna of red and white with a shirt to match. Ere got the strong impression that the man was doing a fairly poor impersonation of an overweight peppermint stick.

“Y-yeah, dagger ears...who told yuns you could frequent dis establishment?”
“Oh, I hardly consider my presence frequent.” He stood up as he looked towards the woman, moving through the crowd.

“Wait...wut?”
“He’s making fun of ya, Howard.” The skinny one replied with eyes that were far more daggerish than Ere’s ears. The elf gave the man a cold and calculating glance before turning back to the man with the impressive gut and poorly sized mint themed clothing.

“I want no trouble. Just here to share in the warmth. There’s plenty to go around.” And torchlights at the foot of the hill to give new life when the hearthfire went still.

“Ya well...I dun like it. Dun like it at'all.”
“Yeah. Howard don’t like it. Not one bit.” The skinny man responded keenly in cadence, echoing the man unnecessarily. Ere got a good look at his teeth; they were sharpened unnaturally.

“Howard seems to get what he wants…” The elf responded, not really sure where to go from there. A fight was sure to get him kicked out, despite having not started it. “How about we just go to separate corners of the room?”

He could hardly finish the question before he felt the man's fist connect with his jaw.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Eislyn's gloved hand got on the door-handle when all underworld broke out. A glass bottle of rum smashed and broke against the door near her head. Her cloak took most of the fallout. Within the shadow of the cowl, verdant circlets widened.

The princess hadn't been in a full-out brawl. Ever. Sure, she'd been in the middle of plenty of wars but there was something more chaotic about this. No lines to hold or orders to give or follow. The young woman paused a moment, head turning briefly to some elf getting clocked, before she took advantage of the moment and escaped into the torchlit night.

The icy wind hit her like an old friend. Maybe a disgruntled friend that you didn't want to be me reminded of but a friend all the same. Lady Eislyn Gray was used to this weather. She'd grown up at the base of the spine. The barn was a few yards away. She needed to get to it without the brawl following her and saddle up her steed. Or else Geoffrey didn't stand a chance.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

The whole debacle was a blur of fists, tossed tankards, and various colors of tunics moving through the daze. Ere wasn't exactly sure what had brought about the communal fisticuffs but he was fairly certain, between ducking and getting pushed around, that he had even spotted the crone giving one of the tavern dwellers a solid one-two. That was, until someone grabbed Ere by the chest and leg and tossed him clean across the room.

He didn't land on wood floors or tables and chairs. Instead, he rolled to a stop on a drift of thick snow. To his right, a large broken window with shadows and yells emanating. To his left, that woman was running to what appeared to be the spurs major stable. What could she want in there during a time like this, he wondered as he found his way to his feet.

Dusting off his rump and admiring his wake in the otherwise fresh pile of snow, he ducked down and followed her as curiosity overtook him. Hopefully the fight would sort itself out and he could manage some warmth at a later hour. The bitter cold had never sat entirely well with him.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Crashes and shouts were muffled by the wind, behind her. Palms pressed against the door of the barn as she slipped inside. With a quick side-to-side glance, she realized she was alone. Cowl of her cloak fell at her shoulders, revealing hair like golden rays of bright summer sun.

Plucking an apple from an old aged and wooden barrel at the front, she made her way down the row of animals happily munching on straw and slurping water to the second-to-last stall at the end. A black horse whinnied softly as he saw his owner approach. And with a snack no less!

"Hi Ruffian," Eisly called out and offered the apple to the horse. Finger stroked against the horse's forehead where a lone white star stood. "Want to go on one more adventure tonight?"

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

The blizzard howled and the wind howled harder. An elf, and druid, of his nature wasn't particularly fond of the cold and even less so of the bite of the wind that followed after. But as an envoy of nature, curiosity was a prevailing wind that had to be followed.

Crouching like a thief in the night, he followed the woman to the sound of fighting and yelling, echoing and diminishing to a dull fade. The environment was far more prevalent here, battering the wooden slats of the stables with gusts and buffets of wind that were not to be taken lightly.

Snow collected in his dark beard as he approached a window, peering in to watch the woman move. An apple, hair that felt nearly warm from the distance, and an not entirely unpleasant voice. Though he could offer a bit of advice on onomastics, as Ruffian was hardly lucky as far as name goes. In fact, it seemed more like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"One more adventure..." He whispered. He shook his head and watched. She was hardly dressed appropriately for a midnight ride through a blizzard. She needed at least two more layers of fur.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Ruffian gobbled up the apple happily as the princess stroked his forehead. A harness slipped over his head. Opening the stall door with the pull of a latch, she lead him out. He whinnied and shook his head as if sensing that his owner was about to make him leave the warmth of the barn and the bin full of hay.

Grabbing a saddle from the tack, she took a step up and began getting him ready. Hand stroked smoothly down the black hair of his side. "I promise I'll give you two more apples when we come back." Ruffian's nose nudged lightly in her shoulder.

A quick, tender smile was shared between the princess and her horse in what she assumed was a private moment. As if she could feel a set of eyes on her, verdant gaze lifted to that same window that someone was using to peep.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

Emerald eyes opened wide as she unexpectedly turned to look at him. Why he expected her to not look his way, he wasn't sure. While he was positive that his image was obscured, given how dark it was outside and the lighting within the stable, he knew beyond a shred of a doubt. He had been caught.

Tilting his gaze towards the snow, he thought for a moment before deciding to walk into the stable. Slipping past the door, he ran dirty nails through his disheveled hair.

"I...apologize for snooping." Though it was the nature of the wall flower to adhere to the wall. "Surely you do not intend to ride that horse, on tonight of all nights. Not in this..." He lifted a hand loosely angled towards the ceiling. He felt that the appearing to care for her and the horses well-being might come off better than a cat, simply being curious. And while curiosity may have killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Eislyn didn’t see him at first. An inkling of recognition tickled her mind. Had she seen him in the tavern? Couldn't help the curious glance to his ears.

She’d been raised by a xenophobic father. And while she did not agree with his views, she still thought seeing non-humans as a novelty.

Eyes narrowed at his apology wondering if he was really sorry. She began resuming the saddling process. Clipping straps and buckles. A wary glance cast his way.

At least he didn't recognize her. Many people did and that would only slow things down. A woman going out alone was one thing. But a princess unescorted by her retinue?

“Dire circumstances do not often wait for the weather to clear,” she mused quietly. Her thick, woolen skirt had a high slit, so she was able to mount the horse with ease. Leggings on beneath.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

Dire circumstances.

She seemed entirely indifferent to his eave's dropping, which caught him off guard even as much as her indifference to him and his appearance. He was certainly aware of his appearance and how he stuck out, like a sore thumb, on Spurdocks Spur. It was almost entirely human except for the occasional vendor or misplaced laborer.

"I'm almost certain they do..." He replied as he approached slowly. If she were to be so indifferent to his presence, he imagined proximity was also not a concern. "Besides...I very much doubt your friend would enjoy the cold."

Ruffian turned and shook his head, tossing his mane from side to side. Ere hadn't realized that he was hunching but suddenly, he stood straight up. "I stand corrected. He loves the snow...or snowflakes." He scoffed and smiled. "And apparently doesn't need apples to be coerced...though it's appreciated."

He couldn't relate to Ruffian. While Ere enjoyed apples, he had never enjoyed the cold. Not even when he dons his fur.

"It seems your mind won't be changed..." He admitted, looking up towards the woman who now mounted Ruffian in what Ere still consider as far too little fur.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Fingers tightened slightly on the reigns as he approached. She had a dagger beneath her skirts and other means to defend herself if necessary. Feelings of a scratchy beard smothering her still caused a shiver to tingle down her spine. A hand patted the side of Ruffian as he whinnied at the stranger.

Golden brows rose in curiosity at their exchange. Perhaps she was naive in asking the next question. The princess leaned forward on the saddle. She could admit as much, too. "Forgive me for this question but can you...understand and talk to my horse?"

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

"Why would I need to forgive you for that question?" He asked, moving to another horse and pressing his hand against the muzzle. He obviously understood the colloquialism for the phrase but he wasn't a fan of apologetics when it wasn't needed. And asking a question wasn't in the realm.

"You can speak to Ruffian as well. It's the listening to his reply that doesn't come naturally. See..." He paused. "Whirlaway? Really?" He shook his head, incredulous that the horse would be accepting of such a name. "Whirlaway here is grateful that he is not your horse. He cares very little for the cold."

Whirlaway neighed loudly and flicked his mane back and forth.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Head cocked curiously to the side.

"But it comes naturally to you?" The negotiator wondered. The wind buffeted the barn again and she had to remind herself she couldn't stay in this barn and chat all night. Geoffrey didn't have much time. His wound was mortal and unless she found the starlight thistle, she'd be writing a condolence letter to his family.

"Do you have a name?"

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

He thought for a moment on her first question. Does it come naturally? Running his fingers through his thick beard, he had to contemplate on the complexity of the question. For druids and for elves, the answer would have been no. But for him and the Virvyre, the answer was a bit different. Perhaps it was better left unanswered, for now.

"Ere...like air." He turned to approach her and stopped shy, having felt her hesitation earlier. Whether or not she was a jackal, it was best not to corner her and find out. "That of course is not my full name. But I find it easier to pronounce." Emerald eyes lifted from the horse to the young woman's gaze.

"I assume you also have a name and a plight. I would be happy to know either." Ruffian had not been exactly forthcoming on either subject.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Ruffian liked his owner very much and was good at keeping her secrets. One hand left the reign to tuck errant ribbons of gold behind one ear. She studied him quietly and in that moment, with her back-straight, she looked very much like the royal she was trying to hide being. Most in the region perhaps knew her by her last name. So, she chose to give out her first. With this stranger it didn't seem she had to worry about that, though.

"Eislyn. And I really must be going, Ere. Unless," hand fell back to the reigns. "You happen to know where I can find some starlight thistle?"

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

Eislyn. It was not a common name and one he had not heard before. But he didn't get out much. Between wondering the world and traveling through portal stones, he had very little time for the pedestrian activities of socialization and making friends.

Perhaps the blizzard was to blame for their chance meeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eislyn." Looking at her, it came to him that she was very much out place her in the Spur. She was elegant, well groomed, and had an almost untraceable accent to her words. Thinking on those words, he thought for a moment and wondered on what sort of circumstance could necessitate leaving in the dead of night for star thistle.

"They grow in meadows along banks of small springs, not entirely unlike other asters. They are too tenuous for stronger waters that might overflow the embankments, too fragile to be so far removed water...a difficult place to search in the dark of a snow storm."

 

[Eislyn Gray]

"Well," she shifted on her saddle wondering how much truth she should tell this stranger. No, she couldn't trust him. He hadn't made a move to harm her. But she wasn't sure if he was on a side of the current war. Or who he worked for - if he worked for anyone.

Perhaps he was just a curious stranger.

She settled on the truth but perhaps not all the details.

"A man I was traveling with was injured. The star thistle is his best chance. I fear he won't make it through the night without it. So you might be able to understand why I'm in such a hurry?"

It was an herb known for its miraculous healing properties.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

A druids abilities were far reaching an unfathomable to those who were foreign to it. Some could muster the entire strength of the forest, others could form to the shape of a bear, and others could breath like the eruption of a volcano. So long as the tie was to natural elements, the sky was truly the limit. Even so much as to grow plants where they didn't belong, so long as the seed stock remained intact.

But the naturalist in Ere remained ever tethered to the balance of life. For pain and joy came hand in hand, so did life and death. It was the nature of the world that, perhaps, drew Ere to it. Never had he seen a wild thing feel sorry for itself. A baby cub could drop dead in the snow without having ever felt sorry for itself. And as much as it was painful, it was fair.

He felt a mild form of conflict as the woman explained the circumstance. He might have said, if otherwise motivated, that this man should have been more careful. But he wasn't the one searching for a cure to this ailment.

"I wonder what that man might think, knowing you died in the cold...alone...to try and help him." Ere fluffed up his beard and responded to the comment before she could take insult at his assumption of her inabilities. "Well I surely can't allow that. To allow you to go alone would make me complicit in any harm that comes your way." He was getting right towards the edge of not taking no for an answer.

Ruffian neighed, though it was unclear whether he agreed or not.

 

[Eislyn Gray]

Palm pressed flat along Ruffian’s neck.

“Steady,” his head shook. Fingers trailed fondly along his muscles. Though her eyes remained locked on the elf’s. A silent look as she tried to measure him.

“I don’t know if I’m in a position to deny your request.” They both knew he wasn’t exactly requesting it. He seemed to share the same stubborn backbone as the princess. Perhaps that’s why Ruffian was a bit nervous.

“I suppose it would be better to have you traveling with me than a trailing thug at my back. But I’m no longer waiting. If you’re coming, then come.”

Leaning forward, she gave a slight press of her heels and Ruffian trotted forwards.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

He sensed her distrust and applauded it. In times like these, with war and blizzards and brigands circling scarce resources, there was never a better time to be cautious. Particularly when a strange elven man demanded to partake in an oddly timed hunt for herbs and remedies.

He nodded at her statement, though it wasn't just thugs who should concern her. There were wolves in these parts, he sensed it from the moment he crested the Spur. And there was never a better time to circle a prey then in the middle of the blizzard, with low light, and even lower chance of survival.

Quickly scanning over the horses, he stopped at a particular beast. Thick of mane, wide of snout, and a fierce gaze of want. Ere approached and pressed a hand against the snout, which neither gave nor pressed forward. Ullr. Ere smirked and opened the pin door. "Fitting." He said as he found the row of saddles and quickly tossed Ullr's to his back.

He seemed fine with it, if not indifferent. Once everything was adjusted, he mounted Ullr and preceded to follow Eislyn out. The wind caught him hard across the face and he ran his hand through his beard, already feeling snowflakes gather. Catching up to the woman, Ere pointed down a steep slope. "I spied a small ravine on my travels up the hill. That might be the best place to start."

 

[Eislyn Gray]

One gloved hand scrunched the tie of her cloak tighter around her neck and shoulders. Head turned slightly against the wind and swirling, stinging snowflakes. She couldn't help the increased fluttering of her heart. As much as she'd prefer to be tucked beneath the quilt in her room above the tavern, there was something about an adventure that still made her blood stir.

Maybe it was all the adventure stories she and Hannah had read and re-enacted during the late, forbidden nights in the library. Eislyn tugged the cowl of her cloak back around her head, tucking golden ribbons of hair away. Verdant eyes met Ere's.

The woman nodded and urged Ruffian onward. A little too soon and the small lights of the town all but disappeared behind them. It was a good thing Ruffian knew his way back to the stables. If the snow picked up, they'd be in danger of getting lost in a white-out. But it was too late to turn back now.

Why would this elven man have risked so much to join her, she wondered.

Ruffian navigated the slope and trees excellently. But there was a point where he hesitated and Eislyn could feel his hoofs slipping and getting stuck in the growing drifts. They were nearing where it looked like the river flowed.

Eislyn pointed. "Might be a good place to go on foot."

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

Ere agreed and for now, he did so in silence. There was much to contemplate in the dead of night amidst such a boisterous storm. In particular, what would happen should the horses decide they were no longer of use. The hill was steep that led to the Spur and even a few moments caught in the open, away from the hood of the forested ravine, could spell misfortune. At least that was case for those who weren't prepared.

Ere, however, was always prepared for the cold. And when water ran beneath his feet, air across his shoulders, the payment for power was always plentiful.

Kicking one leg over the rump of the horse, he hopped off the mount and landed in nearly six inches of fresh snow. His clothing was a motley of furs and wood, with the occasional hint of thick hide. For now, he had nothing but the trailing ends of his thick cloak, gliding across the fresh drift.

He lifted his hands to his mouth and breathed in, sending his palms into a slight red glow. The energy drifted, upon intention, to the woman as he did his best to subtlety help her fight off the bite of the cold.

"The Ravine is rocky ahead..." He stated over the howl of the wind, Emerald gaze looking over to Eislyn. "We'll have to walk a bit to find fertile ground. Shouldn't be far."

 

[Eislyn Gray]

The young woman nodded at Ere and slid off her own horse with surprising grace. She immediately sunk to her ankles. A gloved hand ran along Ruffian's chest as he whinnied.

"We will be back," as if reassuring herself.

His use of magic did not go unnoticed by the princess. A part of her was grateful. The other part was made much more nervous. Gloved hand absently patted the dagger beneath her cloak. Fingertips flexed as if reaching for something more powerful than a dagger.

Booted feet stepped carefully upon snow and all that was hidden beneath. Larger rocks and boulders were showing now. The water was to their left. Still flowing and not completely frozen yet, though the edges were getting a build-up of ice. Head remained down as she watched for the moon thistle. Luckily, it was a hardy plant that seemed to survive all seasons.

While still searching the ground she asked. "I suppose you don't regret you decision to follow me yet?" Hard to say if she meant from the tavern or from the stables.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

He wasn't convinced that it was a decision at all. Like a ship guided by the tide, or some tumbleweed blown across the Aberresai, he tended to go where the path took him. And knowing himself as well as any other, being mysteriously compelled to do something was enough to inform upon the proper route.

He was a man of moods. And those moods had always kept him out of trouble. Or, at the very least, gotten him out of it.

"Oh, no. Not quite yet." He said with the hint of a smile, running his hand through his beard and wiping the snowflakes away. Or perhaps he was melting them.

As he stepped through the snow, his foot prints laid bare the ground beneath. The ravine was formed by large berms on the banks of weathered rock, descending into heavily eroded swales of sand and grit. All, of course, was hidden by the thick blanket of snow, only slightly giving hint to the contours below.

"Must be quite the friend, to risk frostbite and worse...over a Moon thistle." He started to slip as he slid down an embankment, suddenly hearing the sound of rushing water beneath the snow.