Noct Yaegir Vignette - Moonlight Before the Mountains

[Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher]

The old orc let out a hearty laugh and patted Melfa on the back.

“Cold? Ah, of course of course. I forget how troubled your kind can be by chiller climates. Come then daughter of Kotir and let me show you a hidden wonder of Crobhear!”

Karsk began to make his way across the hall, stopping to pluck Ispir off the ground with alarming ease. Aiming to carry the young bard like one would a rolled up rug.

“You shall come too child. I see you shivering alone like prey in this house of hunters and will not allow such an injustice. Now let us three go off and be warm!”

Those who would follow, were led down into the depths of Crobhear. To a room beside where one of the keeps several wells could be found. Beyond the unassuming door there stood a formidable bath, finely carved from the stone of the cliff. It had a chamber underneath with which to start a fire and heat the bath like a giant cooking pot. As well a simple drain that would empty water out the cliff face if unplugged.

Karsk went right to work, drawing water and collecting wood for the bath, imploring whoever else “joined” him down to pitch in.

 

[Sigrun Flintfeet]

Sigrun glanced across the room at Vel'duith, noting her distinct change in demeanour. At first she had seemed so exuberant, as if even a dwarf's presence couldn't strike her wonder and joy from seeing the moon. But for some reason, it changed when Sigrun questioned her vision.

Strange. Perhaps she had simply been reminded of present company and rediscovered the awkwardness. Or perhaps, she had been reminded of something else. Regardless, she left in rather a hurry. Sigrun closed her eyes, but her attention drifted carefully after the wet slap of feet going across the room, followed by the rushed rustling of clothes.

And like that, the drow had left, the door slamming defensively behind her, like a closed gate. Sigrun mentally shrugged to herself. Who knew how someone from the deepest parts of the Underrealm thought? In truth, it relieved her to be in her own company once more, though she did find herself nursing a spark of curiousity at her counterpart's sudden fluster.

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel'duith searched her thoughts as she fled to the barracks, her unsashed robes billowing in her wake. If Sigrun had guessed what visit she had alluded to, she hadn't shown it, despite surely knowing of those sorts of tales of the drow. She herself had encountered accounts over and over again in books of history, where a bloodthirsty raid-party of what she knew to be masked drow children had come with sword, knives, and glaive in the night to some village, leaving fire, carnage, and weeping in their wake. She bitterly remembered her yathrin's lies. The only swords she had seen wielded had been in the hands of her cadre-mates. There was no enemy army poised to strike. There were truly not even any enemies. Only people who had gone to bed in peace, doomed to be awakened to their slaughter.

It had been years since the violent, disturbing memory of her blooding-raid had resurfaced in a reverie, and she hadn't even been meditating when it did just now. So, why now? Thinking back, the change coincided with her choice to follow Sse'elah's dogma and teachings. Before that, why, most meditations, no memories came to her at all, only a strangely calming, mind emptying void. Now she was daily haunted by seemingly every foul memory she had ever had. Was Sse'elah indeed behind it? Was this some message, some lesson? The drow paced a moment in the hall outside the barracks, and pondered. This keep seems quite old - might its library here harbor any enlightenment beyond the expected cryptozoology, thanatology, and weapon-treatises among its shelves?

Stepping slowly to avoid waking any still sleeping, Vel'duith pulled a short beam of deep red-dyed spidersilk from her pack, sat down, wiped the dust from her chilled feet, and began wrapping them in the silk. She rolled the spare ends after cutting off each makeshift footwrap, fashioning them into simple silken cords to bind the wrappings together. Appraising her handiwork, a slight grimace twisted her thin lips. Hideous. But it would just have to do for now.

Nearly afraid to sit and clear her mind anew, the drow decided to seek solace, distraction, and perhaps even enlightenment in the library. She tied her robes the rest of the way closed, pulled a comb through her hair lest it start to tangle, tucked her silver dagger into her robe-sash, and started down the side-hallway the young guard that morning had told her led toward the library.

 

[Melfa]

The old orc let out a hearty laugh and patted Melfa on the back.

“Cold? Ah, of course of course. I forget how troubled your kind can be by chiller climates. Come then daughter of Kotir and let me show you a hidden wonder of Crobhear!”

Karsk began to make his way across the hall, stopping to pluck Ispir off the ground with alarming ease. Aiming to carry the young bard like one would a rolled up rug.

“You shall come too child. I see you shivering alone like prey in this house of hunters and will not allow such an injustice. Now let us three go off and be warm!”

Those who would follow, were led down into the depths of Crobhear. To a room beside where one of the keeps several wells could be found. Beyond the unassuming door there stood a formidable bath, finely carved from the stone of the cliff. It had a chamber underneath with which to start a fire and heat the bath like a giant cooking pot. As well a simple drain that would empty water out the cliff face if unplugged.

Karsk went right to work, drawing water and collecting wood for the bath, imploring whoever else “joined” him down to pitch in.

Given her penchant for warmer climbes, most wonders of Crobhear remained a mystery to Melfa. Though let no one say she was not a Komodi of curiosity. The promise of intrigue was near enough to all one needed for stringing the frigid heathen along with them. Especially when the tiny man with the warm cups would be going as well.

Melfa followed, stiffly and slowly and dragging her mountainous collection of furs and leathers. Down down down they went.

Into the chamber Melfa trudged, her breath no longer fogging from lack of inner warmth. She might just have to bed on embers tonight.

"Haaaaaaa-" split her cracked lips and pointed teeth, aureate eyes glinting from the dim flicker of fading torches on the walls, "an bath!"

She scuttled like a snapping turtle making way for a pond over to the hearth and began to jerkily load it up with wood while Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher worked the water.

FWOOOOM!​

Went Melfa's firebreath. No kindling needed - the stack immediately caught, flammable venom dribbling through the pieces.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would blink as he was simply..... picked up!

The words of the muscular orc made the small bard pout who, waving his arms and legs in surprise, would suddenly clutch his cap to his head and retort.

"I-I'm not a kid! I'm just short!"

The protest would fall on deaf ears however as he bounced and jostled with every step that Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher took. The instruments making an occasional accentuating sound with the movements as Ispir added a second hand to holding his cap in place. Looking about frantically for anyone he knew to help him out of this situation he would wave them for help as much as he could before craning his neck to try and look up at Karsk and ask.

"A-Also where are we go-....."

The question was answered by their arrival and Ispir's eyes widened in surprise. Then his features bloomed a bright salmon and he would wriggle free of Karsk's grasp as the orc transitioned to focusing on gathering wood for the bathes. The tall cocoa-addicted dragon woman from earlier aided him in preparing the warm baths and Ispir would idly fidget with his cloak as he made not-so-subtle scooting motions toward the door.

"I umm... I appreciate the offer but uhh..."

Coughing into a hand and averting his aquamarine eyes he would keep them trained on the floor as he confessed softly.

"I don't.... think I wish to bathe with others present."

Melfa
Voe
Sigrun Flintfeet
Vel'duith Voiryn
Andel Moon​

 

[Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher]

The tub was filled and the water was warming nicely. Karsk was making jolly chatter of little consequence, setting things back in their places before joining Melfa in the water. When suddenly the young human he had invited (kidnapped) said something clearly for the first time since Karskgorak had picked him up.

The old orc leaned close to Ispir’s face. So close it almost seemed like he was going to poke one of the young bard’s eyes out with a tusk.

“Hmmmmmmm. That this is where you cleanly try to draw the line little human.”

Karskgorak straightened up and let out a booming and hearty laugh. “Ah! How utterly varied you humans can be! Why I’ve known humans as brave as any orc, and others who seemed scared of their own shadow. Yet here is a human courageous enough to ascent the world’s spine, yet not to bath publically!”

“I shall respect your hilarious request ‘short’ though I implore you stay all the same! Old men like me tell our stories best when young people are about, gives us something to inspire!”

The affects that Karsk wore were tossed to the side in a careless fashion, save the spirit blade which was propped carefully against the tub. The uncovered skin was just as green toned and scarred as the rest of him. Though it was quickly submerged in the well heated water.

“Ahhhh, to think there was a time when I considered hot baths little more than a frivolity.”

Karsk glanced over at Melfa and grinned.

“It was old Balak Kotir that taught me the error of my ways. I once went to pay honor to his court, and he insisted that I join him in a fine dwarven spring he had recently added to his holdings. I remember quite vividly objecting to the idea on the grounds that ‘the river was right there’!”

 

[Voe]

Outside in the covered tower Voe and Otho waited patiently on watch.

Long wind howls came and went, overlaying like a strange chorus of wails.

It seemed as Voe poked at the fire that it would be an uneventful night aside from the nice bit of hot chocolate and company they had enjoyed earlier.

*PAT*
"Oh no."

*PAT-PAT*
"Come on."

*PAT-PAT-PATTATTATTAPATTATTA...*
"Blasted rain."

Otho looked up at the cloth cover that now drummed with raindrops as the downpour cascaded.

"I know."
Voe empathized with the creature as it let out a perturbed whine even as he wrapped his cloak tighter about himself.

"But what do you want me to do? I can't change the weather."
Unhappily Otho rested his large head on his paws again and let out a mighty huff.

 

[Melfa]

Melfa had, perhaps, quite a few more layers to doff than her orc counterpart and she did so with graceless efficiency. First the various piles of pelt, leather, and wool. Then clawed, four digit hands made quick work of her armor beneath. There was little to speak of under the metal and hardened leather aside from her scale-covered self with which she allowed full and unabashed display to all who cared look.

Modesty was not a word in Melfa's lexicon. She wore no cloak for thoughts nor form.

Into the water with barely a plop. Its steaming, bubbling, frothy surface lifted another few inches as her large self joined Karsk. Submerged with nary the pinpricks of her heated gaze peeking out beneath her crown of horns, a grin split her face as she surfaced only enough for a laugh that sent steam plumes between her lips, <<Kotir need much armor for him soft skin...>> a low rattling sound effected a chuckle and sent shivers across the water from the komodi, giving her orcish words a much rougher intonation to the unknowing ear.

Her slit pupils shifted to Ispir Sione, "If small man not bath, can scrub Melfa back."

She had some spots of scale rot that should couldn't easily see or reach.

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel’duith padded into the dark, empty library, waving her cantripping finger to light several candles as she approached the bookshelves. The meager candlelight was more than sufficient for her faintly glowing garnet-hued eyes to start scanning through the shelves. Many tattered, dogeared treatises on weapon use, dusty tomes detailing the accounts of past monster hunts, no few apparently even older than she. Manuals on wound care and antivenom preparation. A textbook on proper taxidermy - well consulted, judging by the specimens she had seen earlier in the great hall. All the things she might expect monster hunters to keep right at eye level where they were most readily found. Another old manual, showing numerous repairs, bore a hardened leather cover illuminated, once colorfully!, she noted, with the proud title, “LAWES of thee NOCT YAEGIRN.” She pried that one gingerly out, bringing it to a corner table, waggling the tallest candle on the holder there alight. She then returned to the bookcase. Her next quarry would surely be classifed as quite miscellaneous among such a specialized group of library-goers, so… the least accessible shelves would be a good place to start looking.

The wisp-thin dark elf dismissed the heavy-looking ladder in the corner with a softly-aspirated “tsk,” then proceeded to cautiously appraise the construction of the bookshelf before her. She gave several strategic points a few test knocks, smiling broadly at the hearty, toneful reply of the fully cured, dense, thick-cut hardwoods. Her lips pursed in an approving, nodding pout, the dark elf nimbly scaled the corner of the shelf, until she was able to poke her head over the top shelf, her unbound snow-white hair falling like a curtain over her shoulders to her mid-back, fanning out as she carefully leaned further toward the center of the shelf. She tugged out a card-bound notebook, hand-labeled "Thee MYRIAD FAITHES of AERETHIL, dutifullee compiled by WIKI, a monk," brimming with dusty leaves of side-notes. With another satisfied pursing of her thin lips, the drow then let herself back down to the floor, straight into a brisk walk over to her chosen nook, waggle-snuffing the candles lighting the bookshelf as she went. She deposited the notebook beside the illuminated tome, a quite satisfying cloud of dust lifting into the air, wafting and twirling upon the castle-draughts. Then Vel'duith settled into the high-backed chair in a catlike curl for warmth, tugged the tome of rules onto her lap, opened the cover, and began reading.