The same mustachioed guard from yesterday greeted Mallory and Idrianthe when they came out of the gate of the Host Tower. Idrianthe found it strange that a guard was necessary for a Knight and a Wizard who had more than proved her aptitude, but she conceded the matter quickly. It was not as if she had a choice  – the guard was rather persistent he fulfill his obligation.

Luskan was sunny and chilly on this fine morning, and its citizens were participating in what was a very lively city. A large vessel from Baldur's Gate bearing salt, fish, and dyes had docked earlier, stirring merchants and sailors into commotion as coin and wares readily changed hands. It all made it hard to believe that Luskan, just a few decades prior, was a mere ruin and no city at all, its population comprising only skulking Kobolds, Goblins, and Ghouls.

It was through the Markets on the way to the Winter Palace that Idrianthe produced a pin in the shape of a kite in beige metal, branching white metal arcs completing the trademark. "So," she said, holding the pin in her palm, "have you come to a decision, Lady Mallory?"

---

Said pin.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:01, Fri 26 Jan.

A good long while spent in the library had been a pleasant way to enjoy the morning, as far as Mallory was concerned.  She was frankly surprised she and Idri had been allowed to remove any tomes from the archive itself, but said tomes would remain in their chambers all the same.  Warding glyphs or no, Mallory had absolutely no intention of putting precious writings at risk by taking them from the Host Tower.  She'd never be able to forgive herself if original works came to harm on her watch!  She thanked Maccath profusely and left the Tiefling with every assurance that the works would be returned promptly before her return to Icewind Dale.  Though, with the rest of the day ahead of her and still so much to be done, Mallory found herself increasingly curious as to if she'd need to extend her stay in Luskan a bit longer.  She'd be off-schedule with what had been discussed with the rest of the group but, with the help of a spell she'd found amid the archives, she could inform the others easily enough if need be.

To step out into the sea breeze on a bright and pleasantly brisk morning was something the young noble found both enjoyable and saddening.  Her gaze once more drifted southward as she felt a deep pang of homesickness take her; the ocean wind didn't quite smell the same as back in Neverwinter.  But Luskan and Neverwinter had their similarities, both in the nice parts and in their shared, perilous pasts.  So much of her home city had been wiped out in the eruption of Mount Hotenow but it too had come back from ashen ruins and deep scars.  Her own family had been key players in the restoration efforts.  The thought of it darkened Mallory's expression as the weight of her whole reason for leaving her home city returned to her mind... rather, it never quite left her, but usually settled into a quiet ache rather than a sharp pang.

"So, have you come to a decision, Lady Mallory?"

"Ah?" the young noble was jolted out of her reverie by Idrianthe's question.  It took her a moment of owlish blinking before she could get her thoughts back into gear.  "I'm sorry, Idri, I was off in my own world.  How do you mean?" she queried, her gaze drawn to the insignia pin of the Host Tower's emblem Idri brandished.

Meanwhile, high in the air above the trio, Astre glided through the chilly wind.  The cold ocean breeze was a lot nicer than the biting, frigid winds further north and he rather enjoyed being able to more lazily ride the air currents.  He went from rooftop to rooftop, following after Mallory and company.  While it was the mustachio'd guard's job to protect the ladies on foot, Astre was ever the vigilant scout from on high to make sure no trouble would approach unnoticed.

---

Astre's following Mallory from the skies, while remaining within Telepathy range.  Passive Perception 15 for the time being - just keeping a general eye out to make sure there's nobody tailing them, watching for pickpockets, and the like.

Idrianthe looked onto Mallory somewhat incredulously. "When I was presented with this, by the handmaiden this morning I assumed it was an invitation. Perhaps I misunderstand?" It had been delivered to her in a folded piece of silk cloth along with a modest breakfast. She wasn't sure what else it could be.

---

Mallory:

Passive Perception 15

Blergh, Passive Perception. An entirely dysfunctional mechanic as far as I (and many others) am concerned. I'd rather have him roll an active Perception, so that is what I will do.

Astre's Perception to spot anything amiss [25!]: Critical success!

---

This clear day was Astre's – not even the Seagulls who began circling as he briefly took to the skies to bridge the rooftops could rattle him. They shrieked loudly, stating in no unclear terms that he was egregiously infringing on their territory, but as long as he held his ground and soared with confidence, shrieking would be all they did. They were a far cry from the Hawk he had challenged in Hopswood.

Although he didn't immediately notice anything untoward, to believe there was no dishonesty in a town like Luskan on a day like this would be the paragon of naivety. It was just a matter of spotting it. So he kept watch, and sure enough, it did not take long until he saw a conspicuous ruffian in the markets who seemed to be taking mental tally of every coin exchanged in the vicinity. With a guard in tow, Mallory and Idrianthe hadn't even entered the markets before he noticed them, then he retreated into an alley and moved southeast toward the more decrepit part of town.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:57, Sat 27 Jan.

I don't necessarily agree on the matter of Passive skills, as I find them useful for a general application where a singular effort isn't involved.  But it's hardly something to whinge about either way, I'll keep that in mind for the future and roll for Astre's monitoring next time.

---

"No, I daresay you have the right of it.  That's simply an invitation I wasn't extended." Mallory hummed with soft realization as to what the badge meant, not just in the moment but in the immediate future as well.  When the group had first met Idri, she'd already been working for Vellynne as a personal choice while the rest of them were simply a hiring of convenience, so there was a lot more trust invested into the Elf.  But Mallory herself?  Her thoughts reflected back on what she - as a mage - had accomplished that worked in favor of Vellynne's goals and general uses.  At the same measure, she'd technically worked directly against the Arcane Brotherhood just as much in her dealings with Arkemos and Dzaan.  All in all, her own experiences were far more of a mixed bag.  "I'm honestly the sort who prefers contractual relationships with organizations... even if membership to the Arcane Brotherhood had been offered to me, I'm doubtful I'd have accepted it.  Besides, for all the good I've done Madame Harpell, I do believe I've rubbed her the wrong way on more than one matter.  I think being a freelance associate, myself, is the better option."

She offered Idri a tilt of her head in consideration.  "So I suppose the real question is: have you come to a decision, Dame Mar?" she echoed with a curious smile.

At first, Idrianthe just looked surprised, then confused. She wouldn't in a million years assume only she would be extended an invitation. Lady Mallory was the arcanist! Idrianthe was merely a smith. Sure, one that dabbled in magic, but, still, she had presumed a Wizarding order to be composed of Wizards. Athough she was hesitant to accept Mallory's explanation out of earnest humility, she recognized the truth of the matter regardless of the Brotherhood's reasoning might have been. Or perhaps Mallory would be extended her own invitation later?

She looked onto the pin with thoughtful melancholy when prompted of her choice. "No," she answered before closing her palm around it and tucking it back into her pocket, "I have not decided. Although I am technically a Knight still, it has been long since I belonged to an order. I was also sworn to it, but whether or not I still am in its complete absence is . . . a difficult matter to contend with. We served our purpose, and Witchholm is no more, yet I still adhere to the tenets."

She sighed as she and Mallory moved past Tavern Row, the Winter Palace getting close. "I can't deny its wealth of resources, but I am left unsure of what the Brotherhood actually wants. What they truly strive for. Vellynne seems honest enough, but she's spoken extensively of the divisions within. Am I comfortable belonging to an order accepting Red Wizards into their fold?"

At the heart of the matter, Idri perhaps underestimated herself - or overestimated Mallory - when it came to matters of standing.  Her order may have been long gone but she still belonged to one and, in being an Elf, was a living repository of Witchholm itself.  Vellynne was a child of the illustrious and well-renown Harpell family.  Harai was a truly unique facet of a poorly misunderstood people, region, and multiple forms of magic alike.  Maccath was a specialist with considerable personal experience and actionable goals she was in pursuit of.  Dzaan had been an evil man, but he'd been skilled enough to merit the title of Red Wizard, which was no small feat and spoke of considerable accomplishment.  But Mallory herself?  She may have been a noble, but that meant little on its own - she was the only mage of a merchant family.  By comparison to the likes of the Brotherhood's ranks, she was a nobody with a few clever tricks and a hunger for gold.  If she had no feats to her name enough to make the Brotherhood - or any organization, really - see value in investing in her, then she was more likely viewed as a useful networking asset at best or a potential rival at worst.  No doubt Vellynne had no desire to risk another Lantomir.

"Alas, we've only a glance at arm's length to gauge the Brotherhood's intentions for now.  In my eye, their current state reminds me of the colleges and academic lodges further south.  Disparate groups of researchers and scholars all cloistered together for convenience and hopes of organizational funding, rather than any unified goal.  Not an order of greater merit, like that of Witchholm or the Harpers, but simply a gathering of opportunity." Mallory mulled aloud.  She thought perhaps to ask their guard his opinion on the matter, but she figured he wasn't about to speak ill of his employers.  "These days, the Brotherhood lacks any driving ideology as far as I'm aware... which means they're ultimately out for accrual of wealth and political influence.  And that is a callous numbers game, where ethical concerns of its membership are of no real matter.  Master Harai's inclusion in their ranks does not make the greater organization any better than Dzaan's inclusion makes it any worse."  While she may not have been privy to the inner workings of the Brotherhood, Mallory was keenly acquainted with the ways of the noble court and their industries, and such things often held deep similarities in practice.  When one sought profits of any form, morality was a secondary concern either way.

It was a matter to give fair consideration, all in all.  Despite having not been given an invitation herself, the young noble found pondering on Idri's behalf just as weighty a subject.  She frankly wasn't sure there was a good answer to be given.  Ultimately, it fell to what Idri might have considered worthwhile to her own goals in whatever form they took.  "Regardless, I'm certain they won't expect an answer immediately.  Such affairs demand proper time to be considered and, should they press you to decide quickly, then that itself is a red flag worth noting."

"I believe you are correct," Idrianthe concluded after a moment of internal deliberation. She wasn't much interested in influence or wealth, but at the same time didn't deny the usefulness of both as simply means to an end. Her own included. "I shan't be hasty in my decision. Thank you."

Late this fall, and this fall in particualr, Idrianthe and Mallory were not alone in their intention to pay the Winter Palace a visit. As the stone pillars, cracked and irregular, came into view above the roofs, a family of three was seen walking ahead of them in the direction of the temple. The child held the hands of his mother and father who both carried small sacks of grain on their shoulders. As peasants, they looked tired and worn, but yet they smiled. This was a day in the city for them, after all.

The temple itself, although beaten and broken from the times Luskan laid in ruin, was still a splendid structure. Pillars, bridged by arches, were layered in rings of six, and the white stone which made up all the material was polished smooth, making it take on an almost crystalline gloss as the sunlight bounced and magnified. It was easy to imagine how the construction could have inspired awe when it once was whole.

Inside, under the open roof, there wasn't much in terms of items, decoration, or furniture. Against a select few pillars a few benches were arranged, atop one which sat a friar either engaged in prayer or exceedingly drowsy. But judging by his garb he did not appear to be a devotee of the Frostmaiden. His simple robe was brown, and around his wrists were wrapped red bands, and beside him were washrags and a bucket of water. His most striking feature, however, was his face, hideously marred by burn scars.

The family had made their way into the very center of the temple and was engaged in conversation with someone who did indeed appear to be of the church of Auril, a middle-aged, bearded man leaning on a pair of crutches. Although his white robes were long, it was evident he was missing his left leg. He held the one of the bags, having placed the other onto the altar along with the offerings of food made others. ". . . so worry not, it is more than enough," he said to the father before smiling warmly to the mother and the child. "Remember, it is in the harshest times we need to be strongest. Preserve and Persevere!"

As the family left and the priest had put the bag upon the altar, he hobbled his attention Mallory's and Idrianthe's way. "Hail and well met. May Winter's Blessings be upon thee!"

"However you decide, you should know that you have my full support, for what it's worth.  I have every faith in you, Idri." Mallory laid a fond hand to the Elf's shoulder.  They hadn't known each other for long yet had already been through much together, and Mallory found a kindred spirit in her as readily as she did Dannika.

Matters of faith, such as they were, sat at the forefront of the young noble's mind as they made their way into the temple of Auril.  Even in what seemed like a diminished condition it still held a sort of glamor to it that made Mallory hitch her cloak a bit more snug about her shoulders.  There was no distinct cold in the air and her enchantments more than handled what little chill carried off the sea... though perhaps it was more the memory of Auril's frozen footprints in the Netherese hall that urged such a shudder.  Mallory's dark eyes watched on as a peasant family gave a tithe of their farmed goods, amid so many other similar offerings.  She recalled the actions of folk up in Icewind Dale - those who sacrificed food, warmth, and even blood to the Frostmaiden.  To endure hardship was a noble thing... but to inflict it upon oneself as a means of worship was entirely lost on her.

As the little family left the temple, Mallory smiled warmly and offered them a polite nod of her head in passing.  Once they had gone though, she covertly retrieved two gold coins from her breast pocket and palmed them at her side.  Her cloak ruffled with motion briefly as Astre was conjured under its cover, out of sight where he clung by his claws to his mistress' side, before he quickly took the coins into his mouth.  With the gleam of gold hidden from view just as well, he dropped down and scampered away to follow after the family on their way out into the city.  As soon as he could, he flapped up into the sky and tailed after the farmers to watch over them until it seemed like they would be away from the crowds or on their way out to the roads.

---

Astre - Stealth, leaving unnoticed and tailing the farmers
Mallory Bonheur rolled 13 using 1d20+4 ((9)).
Astre is on his own task now and will leave Telepathy range temporarily as necessary.

---

"Hail and well met. May Winter's Blessings be upon thee!"

The hobbled priest was likewise greeted with a friendly return.  Mallory bowed her head politely and dipped into a half-curtsy; even if she didn't personally have any good association with Auril, that was no reason to forget her manners.  Doubly so when her attendance was that of a fact-finding mission.

"And upon you as well, Father.  A good day to you, indeed." she replied congenially.  "My name is Mallory and my companion here is Idrianthe.  May we borrow a bit of your time?

You see, we're headed north to Ten-Towns rather soon - my family is setting up a trade office in Bryn Shander.  Word has it that the Frostmaiden and her followers have eyes upon Icewind Dale these days, and the various towns are performing sacrifices and rituals in her name.  I feel it to be quite prudent that we educate ourselves, lest we offend the Cold Goddess or fall prey to those who blasphemously use her name to mask their own personal ends." A bit of context was afforded; not a lie by any measure, but one survived the noble courts by knowing how to gently bend topics and conversations as need be.  She gestured briefly to the pile of goods laid upon the nearby altar.  "I'm afraid I know precious little of her or the faith surrounding her.  There's so much rumor and fearful hearsay that I dare not trust at face value.  Please, could you inform us a bit of your fellowship?  What does your goddess wish for and demand of her followers?  How does one pay due respect to her, or prove they are no enemy to her faithful?"

The priest regarded Mallory with pale, piercing eyes as she posed her questions. He noted the guard standing a few paces behind them and would inevitably conclude this was more than an ordinary meeting with a pair of commoners wishing to pay tribute. "I see," he answered, tilting his chin austerely. "I shall enlighten you, miladies, but allow me to take a seat first. I have been standing for a while." He hopped over to the closest bench and sat with some effort, resting his crutches against the pillar. As he did, he rolled up his sleeves, and it was clear a leg was not the only appendage he was missing as several of his fingers were revealed to be nothing but stumps.

"Burden befalls us all," he said with a sigh after the effort, "but one shall be reluctant to take on more than one can shoulder. Trials can be failed, too. If they couldn't what trial would it then be?" He drew his lips into a smile once more. "I am Father Mathur. Once I was a Frostwarden, but now I am a Chillbringer, carrying our Cold Goddesses' word across the North and preparing its good folk for her touch.

"There is much to know about Auril," he went on. "She is a deity of many faces, and thusly often misunderstood. She inspires both fear and respect in her cold and cruel ways. And while her demands are tall, her rewards subtle, so it is easy to understand why she is seen as a force of malevolence as opposed to benevolence. But in actuality she is neither. She is merely the constant ebb to the flow, the reminder that the world remains indifferent to your plight, whatever it may be. She is the hard truth. She is apathy incarnate, the antithesis to naivety. She forces you to endure and overcome. She is the cultivator of true strength, the whetstone to the blade." He gestured toward the altar and the food atop it. The pile was most certainly not stacked high, the two sacks of grain accompanied only by a bowl of fruit and a couple loafs of bread. "Do you see that? This evening I will be sending it adrift at sea. We impose this burden upon ourselves and make these offerings in times of excess so that we are reminded of the troubles we have and will face. It is this reminder that is important to Auril, not the offering itself."

Having spoken for a while, he allowed for a moment's pause, for he knew this doctrine was difficult to swallow. "My advice to you would be to reconsider your journey to Icewind Dale. The people there face a difficult trial indeed. Why? I cannot say. But I can understand the extent of their measures. How they reach to prove their strength. After all, what is a greater burden than the loss of a loved one?"

---

Astre's Stealth to tail the family of farmers [13]: The family was headed to the markets to visit the stalls, although it was quickly evident they did not have much coin to spend. They didn't seem to draw any attention or be up to anything noteworthy. If they had come with any wares to sell, they had already done so.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:17, Mon 05 Feb.

While Mallory made a gesture of aid for the Father as he moved to sit, she didn't coddle the man if he'd rather do it himself.  Her first instinct was to be of help but she knew full well how readily such an offer could be taken the wrong way depending entirely on personal feelings.  All the same, once Father Mathur had settled into his seat, Mallory sat beside him to listen with knees crossed demurely and her Lantern Rod rested to one shoulder.

Mathur's description of Auril was... less than convincing, so to speak.  But Mallory had come to learn and was intent on keeping an open mind; she could gain no understand if she went into things with her thoughts already set right from the get-go.  As the priest spoke of enduring hardships, her gaze drifted momentarily to the burned fellow nearby who looked like a faithful of Ilmater from her assumption.  Mallory's attention was not pulled for long, however, and she paid it properly to the impromptu sermon she'd requested.  "My trip isn't one that can be avoided, which is why I hope to learn.  Believe me, I'd far prefer to travel south and wile away my office hours in the Waterdeep branch.  But if we're speaking of enduring a trial, then this is mine for the moment."

A look of mild consternation furrowed the young noble's brow before she spoke again.  "I'm afraid I don't quite understand.  You speak of Auril as if she has no desired outcome or intent; to be apathetic is to simply be, without concern for which way the wind blows for better or worse." Her gaze lifted to the ice-like structures and arches that encircled the place of quiet worship in consideration.  "Growing up, I'd always been under the impression that sacrifices of warmth made during Auril's Blesstide, for example, were in hopes of assuaging Auril and currying her favor to avoid a harsh winter.  That such things pleased her and thus would direct her cold winds elsewhere.  Is this not the case?  Does she truly not care at all, and these offerings are meant more as a means of personal commitment and self-discipline?"

---

It wasn't until the little family of farmers had passed fully out of the markets that Astre would finally reveal himself.  Not until he was certain they were away from watchful eyes and potentially sticky fingers.  Only when he was sure the three were unnoticed on the road did the snowy-furred Tressym finally loop down into a wide, slow descent, circling around the family to take their attention up on him.

Tressym were quite commonplace further east in Cormyr but a true rarity on the coast.  Even as Astre's sharp gaze met the farmers' one after another, obviously keen with intelligence greater than that of a mere animal, he presented himself affably so as not to make the peasants worry they'd caught the attention of some dangerous beast.  He landed daintily on the path a short ways ahead of them and, with a broad flare of his speckled wings, offered an unmistakably polite and intentional bow.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:55, Mon 05 Feb.

The priest closed his eyes. He proceeded to touche the black pendant engraved with a snowflake that hung from his neck. First, he drew with one intact finger two diagonal lines crossing at the center. "With her I am watchful." Then a horizontal line. "With her I am everlasting." Then a circle. "With her I am independent." Then finally a rhombus, the shape of his pendant. "With her I stand strong."

He drew a deep breath and allowed a second to pass in lieu of the prayer. "Those are her four tenets — cruelty, preservation, isolation, and endurance," the priest explained. "It is with these pillars she inspires us, and she does in callous, bitter ways. Now, does she care about a collective prospering? Hardly. Quite on the contrary, she is very individualistic in her judgements. And while she is a Goddess and mostly beyond our understanding, she can be as capricious as any other deity. Her presence in Faerûn is but one of her commitments. As for these offerings," indicating again the altar, "I fear you misunderstand. The offering is not the food or warmth — it is precisely this self-discipline and personal commitment of which you speak. A fine, but important distinction. And my experience is that it does quench her ire, especially when these offerings are made in times of surplus. However, unlike our kind Father Lackman over there," he nodded to the dozing friar, "I do not believe someone else must experience the suffering one does not. The winds are not redirected elsewhere but simply dissipate, and even if they were to be, it would be away from any who would encounter them."

---

The family had spent a while browsing the inventories of the various vendors, and while the child was enthused by one selling simple wooden toys, they ultimately only purchased a single bag of apples and some textile for the mother.

When they then entered a less crowded street on the way to the stables and Astre revealed himself, it was to no small surprise of the farmers and their child, the father initially screening them both. They quickly eased, however, when the Tressym indicated his friendly nature. The mother and father were unsure of how to approach, but the child was not. He stooped and scooted a bit closer, holding his knuckles out invitingly.

---

Astre is getting a bit out of sync here; the family will spend more time at the markets than Mallory and Idrianthe will at the temple. Therefore, consider Astre indisposed for a while.

"I do admit my own dealings with divinity have always been a more transactional manner.  Tymora, Waukeen, Mystra... the give-and-take is more clearly defined.  What you propose is a rather difficult outlook for me to wrap my mind around." Mallory admitted with a gentle shake of her head.  "I do apologize if I come across as frustrating or ignorant in my questions, Father.  I do wish to understand, but I'm the sort of person that needs to be able to quantify things to know them.  If you would permit me a few hypotheticals?"

"Let's say two people wish to show reverence to Auril by eschewing warmth and comfort, facing the cold instead.  They endure this state, falling ill and suffering as a result.  Someone else takes mercy on them and brings them blankets to warm themselves with, lest they die for their display of faith.  One accepts the gesture with gratitude, the other refuses and scorns it." she summarized a scenario, though it was far from hypothetical given her own experiences in Bryn Shander with those cast out of shelter by the local temple.  "How would such a scenario fall within the views and teachings you endorse?  Would the person who refused relief from the cold be held in greater merit, even if they die as a result?  Or would their death be seen as a failure, while the other who ultimately accepted warmth and survived be considered a success?  Would the person offering mercy be seen as insulting of their faith, even if they'd already endured up to a point?"

---

The child's offer of a friendly touch was met in kind as Astre gingerly trotted over, sniffed momentarily at those curled knuckles, and then brushed his brow across them with a low purr that rumbled within his chest.  He nuzzled over to press his face into the child's palm but, rather than linger for scratches and petting, opened his mouth to deposit two gleaming gold coins into the boy's grasp.  With that done, Astre promptly shimmied his way out from the child's touch and trotted a few paces off before he began to work his claws at the dirt path itself.  A feline's artistry left much to be desired.  But a simple symbol was worked into the dirt - a trio of stars enclosed within a triangle: one of the holy symbols of Tymora, the goddess of good fortune and luck.

"Mrrrlp." Astre chirruped simply.

---

Yep, I figured that would be the case with Astre sooner than later.  He'll be in travel on his way back to Mallory after this, so I'll consider him outside of access until you say otherwise for the timing to sync back up.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Mon 05 Feb.

"In either case, the person who gifted the blanket would be looked unfavorably upon by Auril. If the person refused the blanket, they would gain Auril's favor, and if they accepted her favor would in part be rescinded. Remember, Auril cares not for life or death. She is not concerned with what end the pot is put to, but rather the act of pottery itself. Liken it to an examination – the goal for the person is to succeed, but the goal of the test is only to determine merit." He took a moment, folding his hands over his lap. "I personally care who lives and who dies. It is in my nature. In pursuit of that, if it is necessary to bring the man the blanket, I would.

"If it helps, you can, in a sense, consider these deals you make transactional. You volunteer a burden upon yourself and are spared hers. The greater the burden, the greater the mercy."

---

Though they were initially skeptical, Astre was received well by all three in the family. They had never seen a Tressym before, but the father had heard of them. When the boy showed the gold coins this magical creature had conjured for him, audible gasps of surprise was heard, and when it came time for Astre's departure he was watched with fondness, all three waving their farewells before walking on to notice the etched symbol of Tymora. This event, which was nothing short of a miracle, they would remember for a long, long time.

In his parting, Astre gave the family another bow and took to the air once more with a swift flap of his owl-like wings.  He twirled skyward and, with one brief circle about the trio themselves as he'd greeted them with, flew off over the city out of sight.

---

Father Mathur's explanation did seem to land with Mallory as a more confident sense of understanding came to her expression.  She kept her conclusions to herself, however, and instead posed another scenario for the sake of further clarification.

"If you would please:" she began "A man fears the coming winter and seeks Auril's mercy, that he may survive to see the spring.  He empties his home of its comforts, keeping only its barren walls as shelter.  He empties his larder of nearly all food, keeping only enough that he does not starve to death.  He even forgoes his neighbors to isolate himself and avoids their aid, scorning them if they offer help.  "How dare you!  You blaspheme against Auril and invite her wrath!", the man cries when his neighbors try to help him.  He eschews all he can, sacrificing his ability to thrive in Auril's name, and choosing to endure the cold with the bare minimum, alone.

Amid the depths of this winter, there is a vagabond who shelters amid the forest and scavenges game to survive, with each day very likely his last if he cannot fend for his own survival.  He looks upon the barren house and its depleted larder, and he is enraged by what he sees as gross excess and luxury compared to his own lifestyle.  "How dare you!  You blaspheme against Auril and invite her wrath!", the vagabond cries.  He smashes the man's walls to let in the icy winds and sets vermin into the larders to devour what scraps of food remain.  Though the vagabond has little, he destroys all the man has.  The man quickly succumbs and dies to this, when otherwise he would have made it through the winter."

Naturally, Mallory's thoughts were on that of Targos, where Streamseeker - and potentially a pair of unfortunate Ice Trolls - had been set upon the already suffering town to deprive them of their food and security.  While the vengeful Druid who orchestrated such an assault was not assured to be acting in Auril's name, the parallels were enough that it seemed apt for the case of an example.  "If Auril isn't concerned with the ultimate fate of either fellow, even as they both sincerely revered her and acted how they believed she would wish, then which would she favor for their intent?  The man who gave up all he could to her while aiming to survive in the end?  Or the vagabond who judged others by his own standards, then brought about immediate, greater suffering that even he himself could not have withstood?

Is the vagabond in the wrong for interfering and cutting short the man's discipline, as much as the neighbors would have been for bringing him succor?  By who's measure is a trial determined?  Is it only when Auril herself chooses to let the winter relent that one's suffering may rightfully end?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Tue 06 Feb.

"Yes. We remain at the whim of Auril, whether we like it or not. Winter is an inevitability," he answered the last question quickly. The others deserved more time to think, so he sat quietly for a moment. "I do not believe Auril suffers hypocrites. By taking away all the man has, the vagabond places greater suffering upon him than he expects of himself. By making others take the brunt of the trial, he violates the pillar of independence and therefore falls out of Auril's favor.

"Now, here's where a contradiction slithers its way in. Say the vagabond had done what he did with full awareness of the outcome – he invites Auril's ire intentionally. By doing so, he increases the suffering he has to endure. Would this be a viable way of worship?" He awaited Mallory's answer, but his expression of confidence indicated he had more to divulge on the matter.

A healthy round of discussion and debate rather enticed Mallory, further adding to the scholarly indulgences she'd been able to enjoy since coming to Luskan.  Father Mathur's return brought the young noble a moment of quiet consideration as she mulled on the question, albeit with what little she truly understood to begin with.

"Hm... if Auril is concerned only with sharpening the blade and not where it is plied, so to speak, then she perhaps may appreciate one who invites greater challenges upon themselves.  After all, if one can withstand Auril's ire, what other winter chill could ever compare?" she reasoned one way, though even as she said it, other notions rose to mind.  "That said, even the most benevolent of deities are historically loathe to be challenged; I cannot imagine the likes of Auril taking kindly to someone who would defy her specifically to invite retribution.  There is a great difference between beseeching someone to test your mettle and spitting in their eye to make them retaliate.  Further, if Auril is indeed apathy incarnate, would she even care about the hypocrisy or the intentional provocation in the first place?"

Another bit of consideration was given to the subject before Mallory shook her head.  "No, I don't believe such behavior would be seen as valued worship.  But perhaps as servitude.  If one brought her attention onto themselves in the worst way, then swore to suffer Auril's cold hand on their shoulder and act solely in her service, giving up all they would have in life otherwise to carry out her will.  To do as she wishes while ensuring they would never enjoy her mercy either." she proposed, along with a curious look to the Father to invite him to continue his own additions.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Tue 06 Feb.

"There are things Auril cares about," Father Mathur reiterated, "and it is derived from her tenets. 'A man who expects more of others than he does of himself is a weak man'."

When it came to the topic of viable worship, he was happy to hear Mallory's answer. "While I am inclined to agree with you I do not truly know the answer. I choose to honor Auril in a righteous way, but I cannot claim it to be only way. Many in my church adhere to the concept we now discuss, to bring about wanton destruction in her name so that more may feel her wrath. It is this I believe is happening in Icewind Dale. But to what end? To ultimately attain true enlightenment, or perhaps even transcendence, to sit beside Auril in her Winter's Hall? There is no end to the endless cycle of suffering if all one does is use it to invite more suffering. That is not the Frostmaiden I shall worship."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:09, Thu 08 Feb.

"Mn... fractured outlooks within a given faith are far from uncommon, especially when a deity is perceived to hold a somewhat neutral stance themselves.  Waukeen is the goddess of commerce; she smiles upon the act of business and trade, no matter if it is above or below the table.  Her ire is raised when one stifles commerce but she approves equally of both honest and illicit trade." Mallory added to the topic with a nod of consideration.  Indeed, those who followed the golden goddess herself were just as likely to be merchants as they were smugglers.

As Father Mathur spoke of lofty ideals such as spiritual enlightenment, Mallory couldn't help but feel a sense of dismay within the pit of her stomach.  She kept it from showing in her expression so as not to offend, but she didn't truly believe his generous interpretation of the destructive side of Auril's faithful to be true.  Not after what she had seen herself, of both the likes of Sephek Kaltro, and of the Frostmaiden herself in the apparent flesh.  Mathur himself seemed a merciful sort at heart.  That even he confessed that he would have offered comfort against the cold in the previously discussed hypothetical spoke well to his character, Mallory felt, even if it was an apparent contradiction to his faith.  That even the most benign worship of Auril seemingly necessitated some level of dissonance with the very core of human nature - compassion - was not something she could accept so easily.

"You've given me much to think on, Father, and for that I am truly grateful.  Your earnestness and perspective have been very enlightening; while I don't yet know how to reconcile everything within my own thoughts, I do believe I've gained a measure of certainty thanks to you." In that much, the young noble was genuine and afforded the priest a grateful smile.  "That said, if you would permit me one last hypothetical for the sake of your insight:

A village is caught in the depths of an intense winter.  It has gone on unseasonably long and only grows colder with each passing day, defying the usual order of the seasons.  The villagers fear Auril has become angered and seek to appease her.  They all agree that, for the survival of the community, they must make increasingly costly sacrifices, suffering greatly from the cold and their own efforts to assuage the goddess' presumed wrath.  Ultimately, the villagers decide to take truly drastic measures.  Each night, they draw straws and the loser is put to death as a blood sacrifice to Auril.  This goes on time and time again, with more villagers being killed.  The community they hope to save dwindles, yet the winter persists.  As far as any can tell, the villagers are doomed yet they persist in their efforts.

One day, as yet another villager is about to be sacrificed in Auril's name, a brother and sister arrive.  The siblings disagree on what is happening before them.  The brother is outraged by what he perceives as barbarism and interferes with the sacrifice, sparing the villager's life and instead putting himself to work with the villagers, in hopes of finding an alternative to ease their suffering and avoid further killings.

The sister, however, feels Auril is not to be denied her promised due.  She takes it upon herself to carry out the sacrifice in secret - she ambushes the spared villager, slaying him in his own home.  Not only does she kill the man who was to be sacrificed, but his family as well, even though they were not part of the deal.  With her bloody work done, she vanishes into the night and leaves the slaughter in her wake."

A grim scenario indeed, and one that still made Mallory's heart ache to think on.  She habitually ran her gloved fingertips over the simple button stitched onto her collar as her recollection of that awful sight Astre brought her sat at the fore of her thoughts.  "In such a situation, which sibling bears merit or fault?  The brother interferes, but he commits himself to the village's suffering as well.  The sister performs the sacrifice, but she takes more than was promised and leaves the village to its fate.  How do you feel Auril would judge them for their actions?"

The priest considered it for a moment. "Auril would favor the sister," he eventually answered. "She makes a difficult decision and takes justice into her own hands. Perhaps she killed the rest of the family out of spite, or as atonement for the delayed sacrifice. In either case, her actions are not in violation with any of the tenets.

"But I believe Auril would scorn the very raffle itself. For any in the village to agree to it, they must also draw, lest they demand more of others than they do of themselves – they violate the Pillar of Isolation. However, if they do, and they elect not to fight when their turn comes, they undermine their own chance of survival – they violate the Pillar of Preservation. I assume it is out of fairness they choose this approach, but Auril does not care for fairness!" He leaned forward, becoming slightly animated in the moment.

Leaning back, he continued, "I know why you ask. In some of the Ten-Towns they have indeed elected to hold such raffles. However, Bryn Shander is not one of them. They sacrifice food instead of lives, so you may worry not. Should you and your family have the means not to starve, of course."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Thu 08 Feb.

When Father Mathur presumed to know Mallory's reasoning, she didn't correct him.  He would've been right on the mark had their conversation taken place a tenday prior, perhaps, but his reassurances held no merit to her by that point.  Loyal followers of Auril aside, she couldn't exactly trust that the desperate townsfolk who had resorted to blood sacrifices even understood Auril's tenets in the first place and were not simply acting on vague superstition, or had been pressed to such a course of action by some interloper's machinations.  Not that she had any reason to trust in dedication to Auril's tenets either.

Instead, she offered a wan smile Mathur's way - an expression as though he'd read her mind and predicted her worries as he assumed he had.  "You speak as if you have knowledge of what's happening in the north, Father.  Is this simply a matter of your skilled experience or have you been getting news by some other means?  Luskan isn't altogether that far from Icewind Dale, though I can't imagine there's much in the way of communication coming in and out of the tundra."

"Of course," Father Mathur said, standing as the conversation drew to a natural close, "what follower would I be if I paid no attention to my Goddess' return to the Prime Material? The state of affairs in Ten-Towns is of much interest to me. Soon I shall pilgrimage, but we Chillbringers are also needed south of the Spine. I have arranged communication numerous times by purchasing information from merchants, although it is becoming more and more difficult. I was also lucky to speak with a fellow priest and dear friend of mine after she had visited the Ice Temple near Andora, a remote village comprised of rangers and Druids. Much of what I know is thanks to her."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:37, Fri 09 Feb.

Mallory wasn't inclined to wear out her welcome and took the Father's rise as a cue for her own, where she gingerly sorted out her dress and cloak to drape properly once more.  "Well, as luck would have it, I'm a merchant on her way northbound and have my own means of keeping contact at long distance.  Is there anyone I should I keep an eye out for while I'm there, in case the opportunity presents itself to pass on a word of welcome on your behalf?  No charge at all, of course - it would be the least I could do in return for your enlightening conversation."

She gave an idle titter and shrug.  "I've heard all sorts of names and gossip coming down the grapevine thus far as I've been preparing for my journey, though I fear I've no context for any of it.  Perhaps I've already heard of your friend?" she counted off on her gloved fingertips one by one.  "There's been word of a Druid named 'Ravisin' operating near the town of Targos, and someone named 'Avarice', of all things, who's an ally of Caer-Dineval's Speaker.  Not sure what they're on about, but they're apparently eager for allies... something about locating a 'Codicil of White'?  Hm... something or other.  A document of some interest to the Speakership, I presume."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Fri 09 Feb.

"Oh, sit if you'd like," the priest said as he found his footing on his crutches. "I have simply had my rest.

"I must disappoint you, for I've not heard of neither a Ravisin nor an Avarice," he answered. "My friend's name is Demetrios of Sossal. Where she is now I know not. And while I appreciate your kind offer, I am afraid I must again disappoint. My connections north of the Spine are few and far between. Although, should you happen upon a sage named Macreadus, I am very curious how his endeavors have gone. He approached me much in the same way you did, to question one of the Frostmaiden's faith, before setting out for Ten-Towns.

As to the Codicil of White, you've come across mention of one of our most fabled tomes. It is said to be able to part the very glaciers themselves, and that it was 'ferried into the full moon'. More has not been revealed to me."