Blood, ice and fire, Open topic

[Colonel Mustard]

Blood, Ice and Fire

Prologue

It has been a long, harsh winter in Provakia. The cold his bitten deep, and bitten hard, and even in the volcano-warmed city of Varsberg the people have felt the chill. But now the chill has thawed; spring is on its way, and with it the promise of better times, and perhaps more importantly, the festival of Allerecht.

And what a festival it should be. Kaiser Alexei Bulgarin promises his people the greatest celebration to mark to the thousandth anniversary of the beginning of Hanz Bulgarin’s conquest and uniting of their nation. There is to be great feasting and drinking, and the Kaiser has sent an invitation to all nations for them to send emissaries and statesmen to partake in the celebration as a symbol of goodwill. He promises music, fireworks and some of the finest entertainers in the world to celebrate this prestigious anniversary, culminating with a grand ceremony that will invoke the blessing of Leifstein for another millennium.

Yet not all is well within Provakia. Secret, sinister forces plot and scheme to disrupt the festival for their own ends. Plans that were set many years ago are now set into motion, the pieces falling into place and the required conditions being fulfilled. In utmost secrecy, unknown by all, they move, ready to commit an act that, if successful, should strike a blow against Provakia that it shall never recover.



Discussion thread for this can be found here.

[Angel of Chaos]

Aerynn hated the cold.

Even though she had been told by passersby that spring was coming quickly, Aerynn was becoming more and more skeptical about it the further north she journeyed. The last little village she had been in had experienced a sudden cold snap, and even though she had to protect her form from the bitter frostfell, the idea of wearing heavy clothing around nearly all of her form disdained her. Heavy, restrictive clothing hampered her movement, which, given her profession, was not ideal at all.

But, as she had experienced within this little village of Johenshon just on the southern outskirts of the kingdom of Provakia, Aerynn would have to do what she needed to do to survive in the near-frozen north of Rith.

The large fireplace was the only thing keeping the fur shop relatively warm as Aerynn, with only a cloak and her usual clothing for protection, filed through all of the heavy coats and leggings that were available. All of them looked pretty much alike, made out of fine furs from the local wildlife in a wide array of browns, tans, and streaks in between. Many of them seemed finely made with only the best hands around, and thus they were probably priced very high. But Aerynn was not swayed by this fact, since she had made a rather promising lift not too long ago, and she had plenty of gold to spare.

She had been looking around for about ten minutes when she found a piece of winter wear that stole her eyes. It was made of incredibly soft white fur, certainly a rarity amongst the other coats here. It was its simplicity that made it elegant, not too overly-decorated with other trinkets, and with just enough grey and black in the fur to accentuate the white. It also came with leggings made with the same kind of fur. Plus, it seemed to be her size, as well as the fact that it could probably warm her without encumbering her too much.

If only for a second, Aerynn seriously thought about sneaking out of the shop with that coat and leggings. But it looked too cumbersome to just walk out with. And as far as "jumping" went, Aerynn's knowledge about the Plane of Shadow told her that it was especially dangerous when it shadowed a frozen environment; unbelievably cold and filled with all sorts of terrors. Besides, she probably had enough money to afford it and the shopkeeper hadn't done anything to cause her to want to steal it. So why not just pay for it and maybe strike up a friendly conversation?

With that in mind, Aerynn gingerly took the coat and leggings in her arms while keeping her zanbatou still in hand and took it up to the font counter, where a human woman seemingly in her mid to late forties stood watch.

The woman looked up with a tired smile and spoke, "Did you find what you were looking for alright, miss?"

"I believe I have, madam," Aerynn responded with a big grin on her face.

The shopkeeper looked at the coat and her aged eyes widened. "You have good eyes, then. That coat and those leggings are made from the fur of an albino mammoth. They're extremely rare beasts, even around the kingdom of Provakia. From what I've heard, just one of them can feed an entire village and provide enough fur to make a score of those coats and leggings. Regrettably, though, the kingdom has not seen an albino since two years ago. That there is the last coat and pair of leggings I have in this shop."

"Quite a tale, madam," Aerynn said in awe. "I am certain that items like this are not inexpensive."

"Most certainly not," the shopkeeper replied, her fingers drumming on the counter top. "The coat and the leggings together are priced at nine hundred gold. And that is a true bargain, considering that other shops in the kingdom price them at nearly twice as much."

"Rare indeed," Aerynn breathed at the high price. Even with the money she had stolen, that would be cutting it awfully close. "But I believe I have enough gold to pay you in full. Hold for a moment." She gently set the fine coat down on the counter and reached into her cloak for the money satchel that she had stolen. Since a thousand gold would have been terribly heavy to carry, she had it converted to platinum, a hundred of which was lighter and much easier to have on hand. She set the money satchel on the counter and pulled out exactly ninety platinum pieces to give to the woman at the counter.

The shopkeeper's eyes widened. "It's been about twenty-one years since I've seen platinum pieces. I don't think I've ever seen platinum being used anywhere in Provakia. How did you come across such a sum?"

"Well, I worked hard for the past few years and I saved my money," Aerynn replied with an honest smile. It was a half-lie, for she worked hard to steal all that money, but she masked it well. "And besides, gold can be very heavy in such large quantities, and since one platinum piece is the same as ten gold pieces, it makes money satchels lighter and easier to carry."

"Makes sense, then," the shopkeeper said as she counted the coins. "Would you like to try the coat and leggings on?"

Aerynn's emerald eyes lit up. "I'd be delighted to try it on!" she exclaimed. She took her cloak off, revealing her soft figure beneath garbed in her usual outfit. As she took the leggings and put them over her legs, the shopkeeper looked on with a thoughtful expression.

Then, as Aerynn was adjusting the waist of the leggings, the shopkeeper spoke, "You're a dancer, are you not?"

Aerynn paused for a moment. "Why yes...how did you know?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"I know a dancer's figure when I see one," the shopkeeper said. "I used to be a dancer back in the days of my prime. Oh, it was truly a fascinating time for me, feeling the sway of the body and the rhythm of the music I was dancing to. But alas, time has not been kind to me, and I knew I couldn't dance forever. So, here I am, working in my family's fur shop which has been going for nearly six centuries now. I wish I could go to the festival of Allerecht to dance one more time for that day, but I fear I have grown too old for it."

"That is most unfortunate, madam. But don't worry. I have a feeling that you just might be able to dance again," Aerynn encouraged as she now took the coat and wrapped it around her form. "By the way, what is the festival of Allerecht?"

"You've never heard of the festival of Allerecht?" the shopkeeper gasped in surprise. Aerynn's response was a shake of her head, and the shopkeeper continued, "You must not be from around here, I take it? The festival of Alleracht celebrates the coming of spring in the kingdom along with the promise of better times to come. It also celebrates the day that the kingdom of Provakia was united under one flag. What's more, this year also marks the one thousandth anniversary of that day, so it is bound to be a tremendous celebration this year, with scores of food, drink, music, and dancing."

Aerynn grinned at the thought of dancing as she wrapped the mammoth leather belt around her waist and fumbled around with the bone buttons. "That sounds like it'll be a lot of fun. Where is it held usually?"

"Why, the same place it is always held in every year, miss," the shopkeeper replied. "in the capital city of Varsberg. It's just north of this village. If you leave here in the morning and take the Southern Road--they call it that because it is south of Varsberg--you should be able to arrive there by high noon with a brisk walk. However, the soothsayers say there will be another cold snap tomorrow, along with a light snowfall later on, so you would probably get there close to the evening at the very worst. By the way, how is the outfit?"

Aerynn took a moment to feel how it was. Though it was all made out of mammoth fur, it felt pleasing and warm upon her tanned skin, almost as if she were being gently hugged by some kind, furry animal. Granted, it did feel a little cumbersome upon her, but not too terribly so. It gave her a feeling that she could stand up to almost all cold weather. "I love it. It feels so warm," was her response.

"I'm glad you like it," the shopkeeper happily said. "Oh, and what you said earlier...about me being able to dance again...it touched me to know that someone still has faith in my abilities. The festival's still three days away. Maybe I will be able to dance one last time this year. My thanks to you for the encouragement. And to show that thanks..." She put several of the platinum coins aside on the counter, then ducked underneath the counter for a few moments, then reemerged with a pair of white mammoth fur gloves and a pair of wooden goggles that had a horizontal slit through each of the eyepieces. "...I'll give you a discount. How about just six hundred gold for the coat and leggings, and I will include these gloves and snow goggles for nothing? How does that cope with you?"

If Aerynn's jaw could unhinge itself, it would have dropped to the wooden floor. "R-really? Surely you cannot be serious!"

"No, I am serious. This is a great deal I'm offering to you. You've encouraged me to try and dance again, and this is my thanks to you. Take it freely," the shopkeeper said, pushing the items towards Aerynn.

"Well, alright," Aerynn said, taking the spare platinum pieces, gloves, and goggles, "Thank you, I suppose." And after a short pause, "Well, I should be getting some rest. I'm going to journey up to Varsberg tomorrow morning to partake in the festivities of the Allerecht."

"Well, I advise you to journey with caution, miss," the shopkeeper warned. "Even during the daytime, the Southern Road could be fraught with danger."

Aerynn gave a wry smile. "I'll keep that in mind, madam. And thank you very kindly," she spoke with a friendly tone.

"May Bruschnev grant you safe passage on your journey to Varsberg," the shopkeeper prayed almost cryptically.

Well, whoever Bruschnev is, I hope he's on my side as well, Aerynn thought as she headed back to the Lazy Yeti Inn for a good meal and a long rest.

/\/\/\/\

The morning sun rose lazily upon the horizon, casting its pastel hues upon the long-fallen snow. True to the soothsayers' words, another cold snap had descended upon the land, sending the cold wind biting at Aerynn's nose and blowing loose snow across the landscape, creating ribbons that danced across the horizon. There was a fine dusting of snow lying upon the Southern Road, which crunched in protest beneath Aerynn's boots as she left the village of Johenshon and climbed the first hill. The wind whipped about her cloak and her hooded coat as the temperature dropped very slowly. As she finally got to the top of the hill, the sight that greeted her stole her breath.

The lightly dusted path ahead curved and snaked over countless hills smaller and shorter than the one Aerynn was standing upon. The sun, now just hovering above the eastern frosted earth, showed a display of dazzling light upon the snow. There looked to be a small mountain looming in the distance, which seemed to be a promising sign, as she had heard from the locals in the tavern last night that Varsberg was carved into the side of a mountain. Thus, finding it, coupled with just following the Southern Road, would make the journey easy were it not for the unrelenting cold snap and the omen of a light snowfall later in the day. Nevertheless, no matter how much she hated the cold, Aerynn had to press on forward if she wanted to catch the Allerecht. So she carefully descended the hill and began her journey north.

Six hours had passed, and Aerynn had already been making good progress. She stopped to rest and restore her stamina by eating dried trail rations and drinking lukewarm water. She had not encountered anything dangerous so far in her journey, but while she sat on top of a gently rolling hill, she saw a herd of mammoths in the distance off of the road. They appeared to be massive; even one of the calves must have been at least as tall as she was. Though she was not sure of their temperament, there was a good enough distance between her and them that they wouldn't bother her and vice versa. She did not want to mess with mammoths, especially since she was wearing one of their fellows' skins.

Aerynn continued on her way down the Southern road for another hour. The mountain ahead was getting bigger the closer she got. A promising sign, since she was already craving warmth. She then looked to the west and noticed a long, thin cloud crawling through the sky in her direction. The cloud gave birth to a light flurry of snow beneath it, casting a speckled white veil over the horizon. There was no doubt that she and the falling snow will cross paths with each other, so she hurried as best she could down the road so that she could perhaps catch only some of the snow that was to come.

The flurries were upon Aerynn in an hour, but she paid it no mind as she journeyed further down the road. Three hours later, Aerynn felt the cold snap let up a little, but she was already starting to feel its effects. She was starting to tire from all this walking. Her hands and feet were going numb, even though her gloves and boots were protecting her from the cold, and it was becoming harder to walk and keep her grip on her zanbatou. Her snow goggles had shielded her eyes from the snow-blindness, but now that it was completely overcast, she did not need them anymore, so she took them off to see more clearly. She was so close to the mountain now, and she needed to climb one more hill to see if she made it to the city of Varsberg. With stubborn determination, Aerynn scaled the hill, slipping only once or twice as she did. It hurt to go on, but she did not care. She had been through a lot worse.

After what seemed like an eternity later, the snow had ceased, and she had finally reached the top of the hill. What she saw next brought a smile to her face at long last.

The lit city of Varsberg was a spectacle to behold. The city was actually built into the side of the mountain, which seemed to be free of snow. As she looked up, she could see that the peak of the mountain was actually a crater, meaning that the mountain was actually a volcano. Aerynn hoped that the volcano was dormant, but at the same time was relieved to know that the city had a source of heat nearby. From what she could discern, the city was already well underway in the preparations of the Allerecht.

Aerynn was standing on a part of the hill where there was a steep incline in front of her. The Southern Road made a sharp turn away from the steep incline and traveled along the hilltop before descending a less steep incline and weaving into the city gates. Eager and re-energized with the promise of warmth, Aerynn took up a brisk walk along the road, not minding the numb protests of her feet. At long last, just as the sun had rested in the western horizon, Aerynn had made it to Varsberg.

Even at nightfall, Varsberg's locals were very hard at work preparing everything for the festival. Aerynn's ears swallowed in the many noises of putting together, including chattering, hammering, and the sounds of music, even though the festival was still two days away. But all Aerynn wanted right now was a warm place to stay and some hot food in her stomach.

She eventually found a large inn that was literally hewed into the base of the volcano. The outside was made entirely of the same stone as the volcano, and it seemed like it could house more than a hundred people. Above the oak and pine double-doors, a large wooden sign that read "The Yawning Mammoth Inn". It looked unique, pleasing, and promising to Aerynn's eyes, and she hoped there would be a spare room left for her. She gave the brass handle a twist and headed inside.

Aerynn was instantly greeted with sweet warmth, which prompted her to unbutton her mammoth-fur coat and take off her gloves. There were many tables with many people occupying them. The bar, instead of just sitting on one side of the tavern, branched out of the far wall just two meters short of dividing the tavern right in two. There were four fireplaces in total in the tavern, all of them the very source of the warmth that she was feeling now. Random conversations fluttered into her short, pointed ears, and while the tavern was not rambunctious, it was indeed busy. She didn't mind a busy tavern, though; as long as the drunken men didn't cause too much trouble, it was fine with her.

She strode up to one side of the bar and sat on one of the comfy bar stools. One of the barmaids came up and said cheerfully, "Welcome to the Yawning Mammoth. What can I get for you, miss?"

Aerynn grinned and enthusiastically said, "Your best stew, best ale, and a room for the next couple of nights."

"Right away, miss," the barmaid spoke as she scurried off to get the order.

As Aerynn waited, she took a quick glance around her to see if there were any potential lifts. The other customers were a wildly diverse bunch, ranging from simple adventurers like herself to minor nobility. She would have a fun time picking the pockets of the minor nobility around here, as plans were already formulating in her mind as to how to go about doing this.

Not even five minutes later, she snapped back to reality when she heard pewter bowl, mug, and key hit the bar with a soft clatter and the barmaid saying, "Here you are, miss. One bowl of our best beef stew, one mug of our best Saargrad-brewed ale, and a key to your room."

"Already?" Aerynn yipped in surprise. "By the gods, that was fast!"

"When the festival rolls around, miss, one has to be on their toes about orders," the barmaid explained wholeheartedly. "Now, that'll be ten gold for it all."

Aerynn reached into her money satchel and pulled out two platinum pieces, which she put on the bar. "One platinum to pay for the food, drink, and room, and another for the spectacular service," she lilted with a smile.

The barmaid's eyes drew wide as she took the two platinum coins in hand. "Platinum? I've never seen one up this close before," she breathed. " Th-thank you for your kind words. I shall show you up to your room whenever you are ready, miss." She then scurried off again.

Platinum definitely must be a rarity here, Aerynn mused as she ate the beef stew. And by the gods, it was divine! The ale was the same as well; not really the nectar of the gods, but damn close to it. She had herself a second helping of each (which was on the house thanks to the barmaid), feeling the warmth being rejuvenated throughout her body and sleep beginning to envelope her. So before she nodded off, she asked the barmaid to show her to her room, which was on the fourth floor of the inn.

The room itself looked absolutely comfortable, with thick blankets made out of mammoth fur, a lukewarm water basin, two chests, and a lamp. After taking off her coat and leggings along with her boots and bracers, she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately in absolute glee.

This was going to be a great festival.

[Colonel Mustard]

The ringing of the ship’s bell was dampened by the heavy mist that hang around Saargrad as it docked, muffling the clarion call of the brass into something tinny and empty. A rope was thrown down to the jetty with a dull thump, and one of the half dozen figures waiting for the ship grabbed it as it hit the jetty, wrapping it tightly around the mooring block affixed to the jetty.

The gangplank was lowered, and one by one, the ship’s passengers got off. The ship, usually dedicated to carrying cargo, was fuller than usual; the time before Allesrecht was an especially busy one for passengers, many people travelling to the nation for the festival to visit relatives and friends, or simply enjoy the food and drink that would be readily available.

One of the figures who stepped from the ship seemed ordinary enough, swathed in a deep blue robe that was drawn up against the biting cold that pervaded the area around the dock. It may have been less than two weeks until spring, but it still felt like winter in Provakia.

There was a rumble as the ship behind them began to tip precariously, and the figure in the blue robe turned to watch the spectacle as something pulled itself up from the cargo hold, a huge gorilla-like shape wrapped in a massive robe of the same hue of the passenger’s. Balancing precariously, yet surprisingly precisely, on the edge of the ship, the colossal being levered itself onto the jetty which was, blessedly, made of stone, before reaching up to the ship’s deck and taking a heavy crate, which it placed carefully on the platform that was part of its back.

“Good, Magog,” Benja Thenson said in a flat, slightly ringing timbre to the troll. “Wait here for a moment.”

The beefy man that waited for the clockmaker grinned as Benja extended a mechanical hand, the blocky metal joints gripping the man’s own meaty paw as they shook hands. With his free hand, Benja took a clinking bag and handed it to him.

“That is your fee, captain Dietrich,” Benja said, before taking a parcel from within one of the deep pockets of his robes. “And this is something to thank you for your excellent service.”

Dietrich opened the package, and pulled out what looked to be a clock. Yet instead of numbers lining the circumference of its glass face, the words ‘fair,’ ‘stormy,’ ‘changeable,’ ‘rain’ and ‘hot’ were present.

“A barometer!” Dietrich exclaimed in delight. “Excellent. Does it work?”

“Indeed it does,” Benja said. “And very well too.”

“Excellent then,” Dietrich said. “That will certainly make my life easier, yes?”

“That was what I was hoping for,” Benja said. “Tell me, will you be here after Allesrecht?”

“Why, yes I will,” Dietrich replied grinning with a broad, gap-toothed smile. “I’ve yet to miss a festival, and it’s shore leave for my men for the next week. If you want to take a ship back to Nerandor, you’re always welcome on mine.”

“I shall bear that in mind,” Benja said. “Thank you, captain.”

He turned and clambered the staple-ladder that ran up Magog’s back, the troll having stood silent and immobile as the tinkerer had his conversation with the captain. Magog lurched into motion, Benja gripping the handrail of the platform mounted into the troll’s back tightly as he walked into town. He drew more than a few glances from the local people, but there was surprisingly little consternation caused by the troll as it lumbered through the town. Saargrad was a port town, after all; all sorts would come through there, and if there was ever a place for the outlandish and exotic to be passed by as ordinary, then it would be a town like Saargrad.

He halted Magog near to the town’s gates, next to a shop named ‘Richthofen’s Quality Furs and Hides,’ and clambered down the ladder again. While he had thought that his augmentation would render him immune to the cold, he had felt the cold biting the remaining organic parts of him at the dock and decided that he wasn’t keen on freezing to death. Turning up to fulfil a commission as half an automaton attached to a frozen corpse would do terrible things to his reputation.

He pushed open the door to the shop, the walls of it lined with furs and leathers of various hues and thicknesses. It smelt slightly musty, with the faint pungent scent of the animal waste used to cure the leather underlying the whole thing. Benja decided not to be put off, however. Most normal people wouldn’t smell such a thing and enhancing his sense of smell was his own choice, despite the occasional unpleasant side effect.

The man at the counter began to say; “Good morning and wel…” before trailing off into slightly shocked silence as he saw Benja’s appearance.

“Hello,” Benja said pleasantly. He waited for the shopkeeper to say something, but when it was clear that no reply was forthcoming he continued with. “I’d like to buy something, please.”

There was a short silence, which Benja eventually broke with; “With money.”

This was enough to snap the shopkeep back to his senses.

“Of course, of course. What would you like, erm, sir?”

“Something to keep me warm, please,” Benja replied. “I’m afraid the cold took me somewhat by surprise.”

“It’s the case with many of our visitors,” the shopkeeper replied, with a slight tut. “We tell ‘em ‘Provakia’s the coldest place on Elumintir,’ but most of them think they’ll do alright with the normal winter gear. Still, if they’ve got a good head on their shoulders they’ll get something good. The name’s Richthofen, by the way.”

“Benja Thenson,” Benja replied.

“And what exactly are you looking for, mister Thenson?” Richthofen asked. “We have cloaks, jackets, overtrousers and hoods all here.”

“I see,” Benja said. “Quite a selection indeed.”

“I do my best to keep well stocked,” Richthofen asked, his smile widening with a hint of pride.

“It seems you do,” Benja said, before stepping forward to examine a large cloak of thick white fur. “This looks rather warm.”

“That it is,” Richthofen asked. “But, tell me, are you planning to travel?”

“Yes I am,” Benja said. “I’m hoping to reach Varsberg before the festival.”

“Then I can’t recommend that then,” Richthofen said. “So help me, I may well be doing myself out of a thousand gold pieces, but I can’t have my conscience clear if I let a customer out travelling wearing jahtee fur.”

“Why’s that?” Benja asked.

“Because you smell of jahtee,” Richthofen said. “And you come within a mile of a live one then it’ll think you’re another jahtee invading its territory and come after you with some nasty things in mind.”

He took another cloak of thick brown fur from where it was hanging on a ceiling beam and held it up for Benja to see.

“This, on the other hand, is mammoth fur,” he said. “Some of the warmest stuff you can wear and much less likely to see you savaged.”

“And how much would that be, then?” Benja asked.

“For you, only five hundred gold pieces,” Richthofen said. “You’ll not find a better bargain in all of Saargrad, that I swear on.”

Benja paid the sum asked of him and left with Richthofen wishing him the best of luck for his journey. He clambered onto Magog’s back once he left the shop, his latest acquisition wrapped around his frame and already doing a fine job of keeping the cold out. With a though, he ordered Magog forward and the troll lurched into motion, the regular ratcheting clicks of the various clockwork parts of him moving in perfect tandem as they worked into motion.

In less than a minute, they were out of Saargrad’s gates, and following the long ribbon of the West Road that would lead them to Varsberg and Allesrecht. Benja just hoped that there wouldn’t be any trouble along the way.

[Nemaisare]

Tomas had not been looking forward to this march. The spring warming had lasted too long to continue. It was just the way of things, he knew. There was always a cold snap during the spring, just one last reminder of the winter that would come again all too soon. Now, it wasn't so much the cold that he minded, he'd been living in it 56 years, there had to come a point where you just decided to stop shivering and get on with life. It wasn't the sudden shift in the warming days either, since they weren't that much warmer. Provakia only had the one growing season, after all. And a short one at that. It was more that the cold snap always seemed to come about when he'd decided to travel. Something he didn't do quite so often these days as he had in his youth.

Of course, he could just be imagining things for the sake of complaining, but Tomas had never been one to complain. He considered it a waste of breath. He wasn't against finding excuses to be surly though. A cold snap on the morning he was heading out, when it had been fine weather the day before, was a good reason to be a little grumpy. Not that anyone was likely to be able to tell the difference between grumpy and his regular mood. The man knew he wasn't the best of company, but the soldiers he was travelling with had grown used to him, and so long as he respected them, and they respected him, they got along fine. Which was why he liked travelling with them. And it was always better to be walking the country as a group than alone, especially when the travel would be overnight, and one happened to be getting older. But he was the only priest in his district at the moment, and asking someone else to shoulder his tasks was just being lazy. It also meant he wasn't doing his job.

No one had ever been able to accuse Tomas of not doing his job.

Tomas stood out among the other men by the difference in his clothing. Where the others all wore some variety of the same heavy cloak, fur-lined gloves, armour, sturdy, but warm boots, mammoth hide pants and a sword and shield, his cloak was older, without the pockets sewed into the inner lining, and he had no armour. Nor had he decided to sacrifice his finger warmth for easier access to the sword now strapped at his hip. So his hands were wrapped in large mitts, ruffled with the thick throat fur of the reisselche, and felt the cold not at all, for which he was thankful. Had all the soldiers been dressed as he was, however, it would have been a most amusing spectacle, and a rather pathetic sort of army. Tomas, however, knew that while he had been a soldier once, and still fit among these men, he was no longer a part of that army. Even if he was Vaulbrecht's priest. He'd likely only prove more a hindrance than a help if he had to join in any fighting that occurred, and the chances of encountering danger, even so near the borders of Provakia, were rare. So, he'd elected for warmth and comfort rather than ease of movement, and had endured the men's laughter when he showed up looking like a puffed up bear under all his clothes.

He'd only grunted at their smiles, and shrugged. They deserved the laughter, but they also knew it meant he trusted them enough to be able to look after themselves. His nephew, however, had earned himself a cuff about the head for laughing a little too hard. Respect for your elders was still something that lad had to learn. Tomas wasn’t above teaching it to him either. Although he’d caught the boy glancing his way more than once while they were walking with that same grin on his face. Of course, the lad also happened to be hunched over and shivering, having yet to get used to the fewer layers. A soldier’s uniform was designed for warmth, and then protection, but there had been compromises made between the two for either to be at all useful. So none of the men were ever likely to freeze, but they’d certainly be colder than Tomas was. Yet another reason to allow them their laughter.

It was the second day into their trek, now, and he was still trying to work the stiffness from muscles that didn’t appreciate sleeping on cold, hard ground. At least this night they’d be on the Road and so, would have actual beds to sleep in come nightfall, if they kept up this pace. But that didn’t stop Tomas from being stiff now. His back ached and his right eye was getting tired of trying to see anything through the thin slit of his snow goggles while his left was getting tired of having to see everything. By the time they reached a town for the night, he was going to have a right Kaiser’s headache. It wouldn’t make him any easier to deal with, but it would be a good excuse to have a bit of a drink before tomorrow brought them to Varsberg. He was going to need some fortifying to get through the Allerecht and still be able to remember that list of his.

There were reasons for him to be coming here, after all. The most important involved the village themselves. Somewhere, in the wide, wide world, was a shipment of iron ingots. It should have been in Schieling weeks ago, or rather, it should have been there before the winter storms made cart travel impossible. Now that that was no longer the case, the shipment, which should have been stored in some warehouse over winter, ought to have be sent out to them awhile ago. So now, he had to find out what had happened to it. Since it had been headed for Varsberg, that was where he was going. He would have preferred to wait until the Allerecht was over, or to have gone before. But everyone would be too busy preparing for it, even two weeks beforehand, and no one was going to be in much shape for anything a few days afterwards. And they couldn’t wait much longer. They’d already started running out of their own iron. If the wait kept up, they’d either be losing money to make their own tools, or losing their own tools to make money. Neither sat well with Tomas.

Then he had to ask after a weather witch, since their last one had left them to help with one of their large rituals and never returned. Probably found something else to do with her time. Not that Tomas could blame her, since she’d not been charged with watching over their village, she’d just been kind enough to notice that their old one had died and they were close enough to the sea to be in some danger during bad weather. He’d liked her. A no-nonsense sort of girl, she’d been. Talking when talk was needed and keeping silent otherwise. And she’d had a strength to her spells none of the villagers had seen in a long while. But now she’d wandered off and he had to find a replacement. The Huskarl stationed near them had sent these men along to see he made it, and as a way of returning the favour for him requesting some funds for bettering the barracks where the soldiers were living. Even with the villagers happy to help, there was only so much one could do without decent supplies. And they were running out of preserved food. The village over from Schieling, still within Tomas’s district, had suffered some disaster when a fly-maddened reisselche ran a hole through the wall of their supply building. It hadn’t been so bad when the scavengers had other things to eat, but they’d gotten bolder over the winter months, and had carried off enough that the folk there were beginning to worry. And Tomas was too.

The last thing that he had to do… Involved asking questions and finding answers for no one but himself. As he thought of it, the man curled his fingers around the strangely beautiful bottle that had come his way. His brother had found it. Traded for it off a merchant and kept it for awhile. But there’d been little enough to do with a bottle as small as this one was. Even if it was fancily made and no one knew what its material was. So he’d given it to Tomas. A gift befitting brothers, to show how much he cared he’d given him a useless trinket. Tomas had given him a heavy pat on the back and they’d called it even. But later, when he’d actually taken to looking at the bottle, turning it around and about in his hands and wondering at its actual value. He’d made a discovery that unnerved him. The bottle was something’s home…

He frowned into the ruff of his hood. Thinking back on that day when the winds had been a little too fierce to do anything but sit by the fire and be glad of the walls around you. But even as he began, there came a shout of surprise from up ahead, and his guard of honour, which had become a little lax the closer they came to Varsberg, since it was more of a leave they were on than a duty, gathered close about him, hands on sword hilts and eyes, every single one of them, drawn to the thing that was coming up behind them. Tomas swung around as he realized the direction they were all staring in, and squinted through his goggles. But his eyes weren’t working so well today, and he couldn’t make out much more than some giant thing coming towards them. At first, he thought it might be a mammoth and wondered why everyone was still standing around since that wouldn’t do anyone any good. But then his pushed the goggles onto his forehead and his vision improved enough that he could see that whatever the giant was, it was walking on two legs, docilely along the road, and it wore something. Which meant it was either civilized, or some huge Jahtee out to have a laugh and then a meal. Still squinting, he called out to his nephew, who had far better eyes than his.

“Here now, Jarek, what d’you see there?” The low rumble of his voice, calm and slow as it always was, seemed to have a steadying effect on the men around him. Which made Tomas even more wary of this unknown presence. “Looks like a moving statue, Uncle. Only, something no Provakian smith ever thought up!” The added statement was a measure of pride in the skill of the metal workers of the region. And Tomas took it as it was meant, to tell him that whatever metalwork had been done, had been done poorly when compared with something a priest of Vaulbrecht might achieve, it also meant that whatever they were looking at, it was ugly. The knowledge of which made his thin lips twitch beneath his beard. But Tomas didn’t smile. “Anything else, lad?”

Just as the boy began shaking his head, he stopped and another shout went up. “Leifstein’s fire, I thought that were just some jutting piece. There’s a person up on that thing’s shoulder, Tomas!” By that point, he could almost make it out himself. If he shut his right eye and turned his head a little. There was definitely something moving on the giant’s shoulder. But nothing about the approach spoke of menace or threat. And they weren’t the only ones allowed to use the road. Besides which, Allerecht was only a day away. And there were all sorts wandering about Provakia when the festival rolled around. He grunted and lifted a mittened hand up to whoever it was standing up there. “Relax you guards, men. Like as not they’re only passing through. We’ll step aside, let them by.”

He followed his own orders, dropping his shoulders from the tense hunching they’d been doing and moving towards the side of the road where it would be a great deal more difficult to get stepped on. Or however that creature might feel like getting them out of the way. The men followed his lead, some joking and others nervous. But not a one of them could keep their eyes from the strange apparition.

[E'doa A'nii]

To the casual eye, the small bottle is but a girlish trinket, or perhaps a perfume bottle, or a good place to store tiny bits and pieces. Thousands of years old and made of solid opal it is a rare thing indeed. Indescribably precious to those who understand that the miniscule two by one inch bottle is home to nothing less than a genie.

More than it's intrinsic value, the bottle is enchanted.

Twice.

Firstly, by virtue of inhabitance. Secondly, by virtue of necessity: Destined to pass endlessly from one hand to the next, the bottle changes possesion with a swiftness and regularity to put the Pony Express to shame. Necessity or no, a genie cannot deny the calling of her master: And so it was that as the new owner did what so many often do, he ignorantly summoned his servant. There was a small flash of light and then nothing. From the bottle rose a single eye, minute but aware, shrouded in a ball of fire of the purest white.

Imagine, the surprise of the humble priest. Not an expressive man, but his shock was telling. Mouth slightly open, eyebrow's raised. He blinked for a second and then recovered. Her entrance might never have happened. Jeannete had learnt a long time ago that starting with the promise of undying servitude was not the way to introduce oneself. Most people were to busy processing her existence to understand her words. Once he had recovered sufficiently to question her, she began with the answers. One question at a time. She was Jeannette. A magical person who granted wishes to whoever owned her bottle.

"Anything?" He had asked with a note of uncertainty.

"Anything." She replied, and then added, "But beware the nature of your first wish. I am bound by it and so may only grant similar wishes in the future." Most people didn't heed that too well. But they learned. The prudent had already learned and used their first wish wisely.

It was not easy this life of hers; running all the time. Masters were not guaranteed to be any sort of kind. --She was not used to serving people without a great deal of reward and honor. She had been a goddess after all; the tribe's cheif only called upon her in his greatest hour of need, and then he did so tremblingly, cautiously and with much concern for her regard. There, she was not a genie, though the laws of her magic still applied. There she was a powerful, unpredictable being. Mysterious and wonderful. --

But protection had to be paid for, so pay she did.

The promise of wish fullfillment was a powerful one, and allowed her to stay with masters long enough to get where she needed to go. Always they had the bottle for a time, and then by whatever agent, they had it no more. And always, Jeannette dreaded the summons of her new master. From inside the bottle, her hold on the world was weak. She new not of where she went, or into who's hands she fell. She could not even exit her own bottle without a master's call.

It was through her master that she gained power, and an awareness of what went on outside the bottle.

This link was one of magic and mind; a link which could be as revulsive as pleasant. So much so that she met Tomas with a sense of dread. Soon, though, her dread of him vanished. In the few weeks she had been serving him she had come to find that he was not a bad man. Ordinary, contemplative, solid.

All things she could deal with and appreciate.

Even if she did find annoyance in his desire to be grumpy. Everyone was allowed their own will and their own choice. And so it was that she allowed him his. For the most part she was silent and unobtrusive, masking her awareness of him and his doings. If he wanted her he would bring her out. She had not as yet been needed, and that was quite fine. Such a contemplative man was still deciding if he truly needed or even desired to wish for anything at all. His self-reliance seemed to lead him toward the inclination that a person ought to act on a problem before going for the easy solution. This was pleasing. It meant that her powers would not be abused.

As such, she was content to wait.

And so it was, that as he stared at the amazingly intricate and ingeniously built pair of creatures before him, she too studied the travelers. A troll and his master. A troll...when was the last time she had seen one of those? The magic in the work was strong. As always, the sense of magic not her own sent a sense of urgency and fear through her being. Was it him? Always the knowledge that he hunted her hung in her mind. Always the knowledge of what he could do. What he would do.

And always the question: Is that him?

She was grateful for the concealment within Tomas' thick cloak, but wary all the same. He could sense her power when she was with a master. Always her master drew the bard to her. There was a chance she could move on before he caught up. A chance to move on before harm came. How long could she run? He would catch up eventually. Then what? She only hoped that she had a master and a good First Wish behind her when the time came.

(How is this Nemai? I hope I didn't put in too much about Tomas. I'm sorry if I did.)

[Colonel Mustard]

The wind whistled gently through harsh, scrubby tundra of Provakia, stunted and brown plants swaying against the white backdrop of their uncompromising home. It was a harsh land, Benja knew that even before he had stepped off of Dietrich’s ship, but he had had no real idea what a stark place Provakia really was. Well, he’d learned pretty quickly, and he was glad of his purchase; the mammoth-fur cloak was a wise investment, more than able to keep out the worst of the cold.

The journey was a slow one, Magog’s pace matching that of your average cart oxen, but it gradually ate up the miles with its sheer relentlessness. Magog didn’t get tired, he didn’t need to eat and he didn’t care for the cold, and so he was the perfect beast of burden for this inhospitable realm. So far, the journey had been a dull one, and aside from one encounter, there had been nothing to break the monotony. That said, however, that run-in had certainly been an interesting one.

It had happened around two hours into the journey, when a herd of mammoth were crossing the road a few hundred metres in front of Benja. One of them had suddenly stopped when it saw him, and hooted in alarm.

The herd had approached slowly, and for a fearful moment Benja thought they were going to charge, before it stopped a few metres from him and the assembled colossi looked at him curiously. Benja had thought that they were sizing him up, before he realised that they seemed to be wearing a worried expression on their faces, and he fought the urge not to laugh. They were worried about him? They were some of the largest creatures on Elumitir, nearly twice the size of Magog, and they were worried about him?

Benja commanded Magog to gently rock back on his haunches, so that he might look smaller and less threatening, and after a few more moments of watching him, the lead mammoth gave a gentle hoot and pulled away, the rest of her herd following behind her. Benja waited until they were a safe distance from him before ordering Magog forward, feeling more than a little shaken.

Apart from that, there was little happening on the roads of Provakia.

Benja had almost begun to quietly doze when he was woken with a start by the sound of shouting. He peered into the mist that had fallen, the lenses replacing one eye swiftly flicking and changing to help him see through the haze, and noticed a group of figures gathered on the side of the road. There was some pointing and what sounded like hurried conversation, though the mist muffled the noise to a degree where discerning precisely what was being said was impossible. From their general demeanour, however, Benja decided that they probably weren’t bandits who were trying to ambush him, or at least if they were then they were doing such a poor job he could probably walk by without any trouble.

And so Magog plodded up the road towards the group of men, who had now fallen silent and were watching him warily, before Benja drew parallel with them and called the troll to a halt.

“Good day sirs,” he called down from the platform mounted on Magog’s back. “Is there a problem?”

[Nemaisare]

Staring along with all the rest of the men, Tomas let his hand curl about the bottle he held in his mitten and wondered, for a brief moment, if he might have to make that wish after all. But the figure he could make out standing on some sort of platform did not look as though it had evil intentions. Nor did the…. creature… seem inclined towards violence. Although the flurry of muttering that started up again when it paused at a level with their group made it clear that he wasn’t the only one thinking about what might happen if the creature decided to take offense to their presence. Nor were any hands hesitating as they closed about the hilts of swords, but Tomas didn’t want a fight to break out because of a little tension. And he knew well enough that frightened men made more mistakes than calm ones. So, as the shout drifted towards him, he stepped forward. He shouldered his way, not quite rudely, to the forefront of the group, ignoring a few hushed protests that they were supposed to be protecting him.

If it came to that, he’d much rather be the only one taking a hit from those giant hands should his words prove provocative. The soldiers were better off without him in their midst, besides which, he could take care of himself. He lifted his gaze up to the man, as the voice had identified the gender of the figure. His snow goggles making it appear as though he had four eyes as he squinted through the haze. Then, he rumbled back an answer, voice deepening as he raised it, quite used to making himself heard. “Not as I can tell, sir. Tis only as we’ve never seen th’like afore.”

He shrugged, well aware that the motion was unlikely to be visible. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t an important shrug, just an addendum to his words. Then, he lost the rest of his explanation as he noticed the strange ladder running up to the platform, set into the creature’s skin. Or what seemed to be its skin. There was an unhealthy mix of metal and fur about which Tomas couldn’t quite decipher whether the entirety of the creature was mechanical and had once, perhaps, been covered in fur to hide that fact, or if it was a mixture of the two, flesh and steel. Given that he had yet to be attacked and there seemed to be no wicked intent within the stranger’s mind, and that the thing appeared quite docile, the old priest felt safe as he walked purposely closer to the troll. He wanted to know exactly what he was looking at. Not from any sense of curiousity, that was not something the man had ever suffered from, but rather because he needed to know how to classify this beast. And putting him amidst those unknowns that Tomas had yet to discover wouldn’t work, for Tomas had, quite obviously, discovered this one. Just now…

“Hammer an’tongs, but I’ve truly never seen th’like…” He muttered to himself, not quietly, but it was unlikely anyone else would hear. Although if they knew he was talking, they’d likely be able to guess what he was going on about. Then, when he came close enough to see how most of it was fit together, but not so close as to be taken for a threat or to be rudely encroaching on anyone’s personal space, Tomas raised his voice again. “By Vaulbrecht’s anvil sir, how’s any a’this managed?”

[Colonel Mustard]

The group below Benja were something of an unusual bunch. Most of them looked to be wearing some sort of armour under their thick furs, and they all seemed to carry weapons of some sort. While this was nothing unusual in itself, as travelling in Provakia was dangerous business, the men’s clothing seemed almost too similar, and each bore the small badge of a red bear on a green shield. After a moment, Benja realised that they were soldiers, and the less obviously armed man within the centre of the group was clearly some sort of important person they had been ordered to escort.

The more heavily wrapped man stepped forward from the protective cordon of men that the soldiers had formed around him, cautiously advancing toward Benja and his transport. Benja was both somewhat surprised and relieved at this turn of events; it was one of the few chance encounters involving Magog that hadn’t involved somebody panicking.

For a moment, the man seemed more interested in looking at Magog, who Benja had ordered to rock back onto his heels so he didn’t look quite so big. Benja let him do so, quietly hoping that the man would simply leave so he could be going on his way.

After a brief moment of inspecting Magog’s bulk, in a silence that Benja deigned impolite to break, before he spoke up, asking; “By Vaulbrecht’s anvil sir, how’s any a’this managed?”

For a moment, Benja was stunned. Generally, reactions toward Magog were along the lines of; ‘what the hell is this?’ ‘get out of here,’ and ‘get out of here, foul sorcerer, or I’ll have to set this angry mob on you. Yes, this one standing behind me with the flaming torches and the pitchforks and the rather annoyed expressions on their faces.’ Sometimes, Benja wondered if Magog could be more of a hindrance than a help.

But now, here he was, being asked how Magog worked. A person was taking a proper, anatomical interest in his most unique and well made creation was, quite simply, the best thing that had happened to Benja all day. His heart began to swell with pride, rising in his chest like a balloon.

“It’s rather a simple concept for anybody who know clockwork and basic metallic enchanting,” Benja said. “The beating of his heart sustains the basic ‘tick’ of the clockwork mechanisms that drive his limbs. This ‘tick’ is what winds the various springs where his liver used to be, which are in turn used to provide the motion needed to power his limbs, translated to those areas using gears and melchett cams. This in turn…”

He trailed off as he saw the blank, baffled faces of the men below him. Benja remembered a moment too late that conversation had never really been a strong point of his. It also occurred to him that, perhaps, these people didn’t actually know much about clockwork. At which point he realised he would probably have to simplify his explanation somewhat.

Instead, Benja, feeling a tad deflated, settled with; “He’s powered by some magic and an awful lot of clockwork.”

[E'doa A'nii]

Jeannette quivered. Tomas was getting much too close to the metal-mage for comfort. Couldn't he admire from a distance? Tomas had no idea how much trouble he could be getting himself into. It was only natural to be curious about the admirable skill needed to make a troll into a piece of work like that. A man like Tomas was always interested in expanding his knowledge.

Which was not a bad thing.

But the bard was devious; among the most cunning of snakes. One should be very careful around strage magicians. Very careful. Benja's magic was very strong. The genie could sense it. He had skill. For now, his skill lay mainly, and happily, in metal work. Who was to say it would not change in an instant? A little hum. The whistle of a catchy tune. - All these could change the very nature of the mechanical-man who stood before them.

--Jeannette could not have expressed her joy when she discovered that Tomas was not a musical man. Her pursuer used music as his medium; could seize upon the most innocent and simple tunes to create havoc that chilled the blood just to contemplate.--

Benja evidently understood his craft. So well, infact that he was able to explain it simply enough for the average man to understand....If he chose... Apparently the mage had no such understanding of his own skill at explanations, because he gave up mid sentance and resorted to stating the obvious. Jeannette had to laugh to herself. Such uncertainty. She could almost believe his sincerity.

If only she could be certain.

[Nemaisare]

((Sorry this took me sooooo long!))

A simple bit of clockwork and metallic enchanting? Well, as far as Tomas was concerned, that didn’t sound so simple in the least. He had never made anything for a clock, though he was aware that many were made with strange gears and shifting bits of metal that would turn the hands on the face. Nor had he ever enchanted any metal. It could be done, and he might have learned how had he wished, but he never had. Simple metalsmithing was all he needed to know to get by, and magic, despite his priestly inclinations, had never been his strong point. Which was, perhaps, why he’d taken so easily to Jeannette’s presence.

But even as he made do with listening and seeing what he could figure out of the man’s words, he couldn’t help but wonder at the strange sense of hesitant fear at the back of his mind. It left him, however, as soon as he dropped the bottle and pulled off his mitt to reach out and run an experienced hand over the metal surface before him. It was thinner than he would have thought it should be, to support the weight above it. But then, to move so smoothly meant layers, so maybe it ought to have been that thin. Without knowing the magic used on it, he couldn’t be certain.

It wasn’t iron though… Maybe an alloy… The frost covering it made his quick look less than informative. And then, just as he thought he might be getting some sense of the inner workings of the troll before him, the man doing the explaining started speaking of proper clock parts that he’d never heard before. Melchett cams? He stepped back and turned his gaze back up to the man so far above them as he let his explanation fade away and finished with such a simple sentence that it might have been insulting had Tomas not glanced back and seen his soldier friends nodding and grinning sheepishly. Ah, so it had been for them.

Still somewhat insulting, but they knew their limits and what they were interested in. So long as the metal creature wasn’t a danger to them, it could be a wonder and they’d be content with that. At an earlier point in his life, he would have been happy with that as well, but growing older meant having more time to be curious. So… Now he wanted to know more than that this beast was put together with an awful lot of magic and clockwork.

"Well, ye’ve caught my interest, sir.” He shouted the words up to the man, managing, in his gruff way, to make it almost sound like an accusation. Not a terrible one, just a statement of a fact that may, or may not, have been a good thing. It merely depended on where the stranger wanted this meeting to go. If he didn’t mind the conversation continuing, Tomas didn’t really think it would be all that enjoyable to stand about shouting words up and down between them though. “I don’t s’pose ye’ve th’time to speak more on this?”