Scramsax tried his best not to roll his eyes and almost succeeded, but thankfully a round of drinks was called and the taproom's atmosphere was brought back to familiar territory. "Comin' up!" he shouted and began pouring the ale and wine. And although he was the keep, he wasn't above engaging in some tropical fruits if offered. It had been long since he tasted the kind.

The stranger by the desk hoisted his mug to Rhydd in appreciation. The Northlook charged steep rates, but seldom did the prices reflect the clientele, and such was likely the case with this under-the-weather fellow. A free drink often went a long way.

Salim sat, sighing. He was a bald man with eyes that made him seem either perpetually tired or simply bored, but the man was truly weary now. The storm had made an already tiresome trek truly arduous. "You're wondering why we left you in Targos. Well, why Niels decided to leave you," he said, directing the comment toward Mallory. He couldn't really fathom what other reason she would have for her indignation. "We were a whole caravan waiting for you, but you didn't show. So Niels decided we would leave." He shrugged as he took a much needed swig of his ale.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:17, Sat 30 Mar.

Mallory was quite excited to hoist her satchel to a bit of free space on the table to sort through it; she had various jars and packages she'd prepared, both from before and from her recent trip out of town.  Having been at the shipping docks of Luskan was the perfect opportunity for her to have acquired quite a bit of goods and foodstuffs specifically to make her time in Ten-Towns a bit more easily endured; small luxuries easily taken for granted while outside such an isolated area.  She was quite looking forward to the string of dried persimmons she'd bought though, for the moment, she withdrew a small satchel filled with palm-sized, vibrantly bright orange fruits.  The bulk of her purchases had been preserves and dry goods that could withstand a long time between use, but there was simply no way she could pass up the chance to get fresh fruit while it was before her.  Especially not when they'd been an absolute bargain fresh off the boat!

"Chultan tangerines; they're delightfully sweet, and you can steep the rinds in red wine for mulling." the young noble hummed happily as she went about to each person in turn to hand over a fresh fruit.  Given the environment as of late, scurvy was bound to be a genuine concern sooner or later.  "It's too bad I had neither the time nor the bulk to purchase in order to make marmalade... well, perhaps another day."

While everyone present was cheerfully given a rare treat to snack on as they pleased, Mallory did hesitate momentarily when she reached Salim.  His brief explanation for the sake of past indiscretions was met with a dry expression from Mallory but, after a moment, she simply sighed and let it go.  "I don't blame you, Mister Salim.  Seeing you again just brought the whole matter back to the fore, is all.  I apologize for my poor manner."  She tried to be gracious as she offered over a tangerine for him as well, both out of good nature and as an olive branch of sorts.  Salim was merely a guard on the caravan, after all; it wasn't his place to choose routes or question Niels' orders.  "Niels, however, has quite a bit to answer for beyond simply reneging on our agreement.  I happened to have a rather enlightening conversation with Speaker Shane on the subject, prior.  I am, however, content to let that matter lie until next I come across him - I've no desire to go seeking him out just to settle a score."

Stormheart gave a somber nod to the halfling upon hearing what the elf meant to them. To lose a love, even if only temporarily, was a sad thing. He assumed. He had not found love for himself thus far. But he was fairly busy most of the time, and also wandered quite a bit, so it might be difficult for love to find him.

"I am sorry to hear. I hope you are able to be reunited with them soon."

More people showed up and then even more, some hugging even occurred. Some of them looked a little familiar to him, but no one he was friends with yet. He gave a nod of greeting to any that happened to look his way.

"What's a tropical? I don't believe I've ever seen a tropical before."

But the conversation had kept going, so he merely listened and motioned for a large ale when Rhydd said he was buying everyone a drink. He murmured thanks to Mallory as he gingerly took and held the...fruit...in his hand. He examined it for a moment, sniffed it a couple of times, even licked it once.

"Ooo, mikan," cooed the halfling turning the orange sphere in her small pink hands.  She beamed a bright smile of gratitude at the dark-haired human from the edge of the bar where she had retreated once again to sit after receiving reports that had been in turn disappointing and disturbing with regards to both Maerthryl and to Lonelywood.  She had popped bits of cheese and bread into her mouth, munching while watching the humans interact.  It had been sufficiently unlike herself and Maer to make it engaging without drawing parallels that would have dragged her through more fields of maudlin flowerty.

"No, here, Stormheart."  The flame-headed halfling poked a thumb into the bumpy, orange skin of the fruit releasing a fresh and zesty scent in a slight, near imperceptible spray from the pierced peel.  "The outside smells good," she explained.  "But it's bitter.  So you peel it off first.  Then you can divide the insides into sections."

"Here."  He offered the translucent crescent up to the goliath in a fist that gleamed with juice.  "They're tart, and sweet, and juicy."

"You wouldn't happen to have strawberries too, would you?" she enquired of the human woman.  Mallory, she reminded herself.  "I love strawberries," she wheedled.

Ever the social butterfly, Mallory moved amid conversations and individuals easily.  She giggled softly over Stormheart's queries, though Tympani's request for strawberries drew a downright woeful sigh from the young noble.  "Oh, I wish.  Sadly, strawberries are out of season for another few months - not until at least the first week of Tarsakh.  Even a jar of preserves would've been-- oh, thank you--" she interrupted herself a half-beat as Scramsax handed over a mug of wine "-- would've been fine by me, honestly."

A moment's thought visibly passed Mallory's expression before she reached to snag a spare cup and poured a bit of her own wine into it.  Delicate, gloved fingers circled above the rim as a gentle glimmer of arcane energy passed like a heat mirage between her hand and the cup; the contents within readily shifted to a pale, rosy color and the unmistakable scent of strawberries wafted up, subtle and sweet.  She offered the cup over with a smile.  "If you'd like?  It's not quite the same, I'm afraid, but a simple trick of the senses does wonders for the mood."

---

Mallory casts "Prestidigitation" to flavor, scent, and color the wine to resemble strawberry wine

---

Frankly, a bit of flavor shifting was the only way Mallory could stand to choke down the squat barrel brews that passed for a "vintage" in Ten-Towns or making road rations even remotely palatable.  She'd become rather practiced at it out of necessity.

As the others seemed quite at ease in conversation with the yet-introduced Halfling, Mallory picked up on that thread herself and offered a polite half-curtsy amid her generosities.  "Lady Mallory Bonheur of Neverwinter--" she began, only to be interrupted once more as the snowy-furred Tressym still perched atop Moyrah's shoulder gave a sharp chirrup.

"Mrrlp~!" he piped in.

"-- and Astre." she didn't even bat a dark-ringed eye or miss a beat.  A broad gesture was waved to indicate Rhydd, Khulekani, and Stormheart.  "We've been away from our friends and companions for a few days now on a trip south to Luskan, but it's nice to be back in pleasant company.  Even if the weather is yet worse than I recall, somehow..."  She'd only been back from Luskan's temperate environment for less than half an hour by that point and she was already dearly missing the feel of warm sunshine and crisp ocean breezes.  All the same, she maintained her manners with a prim cant of her head Tympani's way.  "And you are, madam...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Tue 02 Apr.

Ever the southern girl, and despite being bundled up, Khulekani gripped her mug of hot hard cider like she was trying to become one with the steaming beverage. When out in the field, it was amazing how stoic that she could be. But it was either these people or this place allowed her to let her hair down a bit, as it were. And apparently, when more open, she was simply cold. Icewind Dale and Athkatla were so very different, after all. The weather was pleasant almost all the year round in Amn. The winters were mild with minor freezes and a little snow all across the nation. For her childhood, Khulekani had considered the few flakes she experienced to simply be a heavier form of rain, as they would quickly melt, and not build any snowdrifts.

"By the Triad, thank you Mallory!" she shouted happily as a Chultan tangerine made it's way into her hand.

She peeled and pulled apart the fruit with old expertise, though she was amused to see Stormheart experience the exotic fruit for the first time, but was too polite to do anything more than smile behind her hand.

"Have you ever had Amnian dates Mallory? I'd forgotten how much I missed them until you shared your delicious treat," Khulekani asked, after dabbing the corners of her mouth from a large bite of the tangerine.

When Mallory introduced herself, Khulekani nearly kicked herself. How rude of her! Standing to her full height, the young Paladin gave the Halfling a polite bow.

"Greetings! I apologize that Ms. Bonheur had to speak for me. Where are my manners? I am Khulekani Kumalo of Athkatla, Squire of the Radiant Heart Auxiliary. It is my very good pleasure to meet you," the dark-skinned warrior said, not bothering to ask the Halfling her name, as Mallory already had.

"Tastes like ... magic."  A wry smile tugged at the corners of the halfling's lips as she sipped the wine transformed to strawberries.  But introductions called soon enough.

"Ymm, goog."  The halfling stuffed the other half of the orange crescent into her mouth before placing palms against the bar top, and pressing into a handstand, from which her feet split, one lowering to the rear, followed quickly by its mate that kicked the halfling into a stand atop the bar, arms raised above her head in presentation to the adoring crowds.

"Aye ebb Imbd ... "  She fingered a drop of juice from one corner of her lips while gulping down the remainder of the orange slice.  "Tympani Major!" she declared, throwing up her arms once again as well as tossing off a smile with the power of a temple's worth of candle light.

"But truly ... "  Her hands came down to hold each other just above the buckle of her belt.  "Who I am ... Who we all are, is not as important as who it is that calls us.  Am I right?"  Her smile cast out once again - a net to pull in an audience.  "Am I right?" she repeated.  Her green, green eyes went quickly inside for a moment, checking on a thing deeply personal, possibly painful.  But, her gaze returned just as quickly.  "What's in a name?  Its worth only comes from those who know it.  Those who use it.  Those who know us, and say our names."

Then from the top of the bar, she knelt, to bring her height down closer to that of the audience.  "And you know each other.  I can see that.  And yet you are all so different.  Not like the villagers from around here whose looks seem to me to speak as one voice.  You're not from here.  Are you?" asked Tympani Major, the question seeking the story beneath the blanket of snow.

"Of course; they're wonderful with yogurt and honeycomb, especially if they're roasted first." Mallory was at risk of making herself more homesick than usual when it came to topics of food.  Luskan had been a lovely reprieve, but it had frankly done more to revitalize her desire to go home than soothe the ache.  The drudgery and dance of the noble courts were a bother, to be certain, but she would never raise a word against the dining.  Mallory kept her mind on topic, however, as she stepped a mite closer to Khulekani to speak in a slightly hushed tone.  "Speaking of treats, Idri and I completed something special for you that's frankly been a long time coming.  A much-deserved thank you for all you've done." she nodded downward and gingerly wiggled one of her feet about in a telling gesture to draw the Squire's attention to her Ice Troll-fur lined boot, which she and Rhydd both sported a set of.  Magicked clodhoppers to keep away even Auril's accursed cold - they were practically the young noble's specialty at that point, and she frankly felt bad she'd not been able to complete a set for Khulekani's sake sooner.

Mallory actually had quite a few items to sort and hand out that were less edible and more practical, but that would be better handled later when there was less hustle-and-bustle all about.  But, for the moment, she ended up quite distracted once more as Tympani announced herself with a considerable fanfare.  Spontaneous acrobatics were quite the surprise and Mallory's face lit up with simple delight over the theatrics.  Her gloved hands offered a soft, cheerful applause.  She hadn't figured an entertainer would be traveling so far north, but it was a fine thing to encounter by chance as far as she was concerned.

"Each of us have woven across our individual paths by circumstance, and stay together by camaraderie.  Some of us are locals and others of us very much are not." a gentle shrug and shake of her head was Tympani's reply.  That was a drastic understatement; Khulekani certainly wasn't from around those parts but at least looked like she was fully capable of handling rough travel.  Mallory, on the other hand, had no business at all being in such rough country.  The likes of Rhydd and Stormheart, meanwhile, may as well have been carved from Icewind Dale's snowy mountains and forests themselves. "Nor are the citizens of any given town around here all that unified, I fear.  It's best to step lightly; we've encountered quite a few troublemakers of the worst kind.  Especially the longer the cold endures and morale depletes."  A sympathetic glance was cast Moyrah's way as thoughts of that awful bigot Gam, who'd caused her so much grief and ruin, rose to mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Tue 02 Apr.

When Moyrah introduced herself and the two men she had traveled alongside these past few days, she had to acknowledge that she didn't truly know them. Not as she had come to know Mallory, Rhydd, Dannika, Torgrim, and the unfortunately absentee Farwalker, even though they had spent a similar length of time together. This journey to Revel's End would be their only one, she was willing to wager.

She nearly forgot to include Astre among those boon companions. An egregious oversight, as he was currently the boonest companion for having chosen to drape on the correct person, a decision that was rewarded lavishly with soft scritches. Somehow she also managed time to peel her tangerine, finding herself absolutely famished. She'd had them once prior when her father had bought some in Targos back when she was a wee lass. They had been good back then, but when she popped one boat into a mouth, she doubted her memories as she couldn't remember tasting anything better.

"Speaking of troublemakers," Arno interjected. He had caught the ranger speak to the Halfling about Nimsy Huddle, so he figured news would be appreciated, and he had no trouble sharing it with this crowd despite the Northlook's reputation. "We passed through Lonelywood right after the killings had occurred. Not a happy place then, understandably. The people were quite shaken."

Moyrah pounded the table with her fist to Astre's surprise, then looked Mallory's way as her brow furled in nothing short of outright fury. Not directed at her, certainly, but at the killer at large. "I asked around, but none had seen him. Of course they hadn't, since he would have been disguised. But he left no clues as to his whereabouts or future plans, so I feel like we're just as far. The best I managed to get was that he could have fled into the forest, but frankly, I got the impression they thought they knew who it was, and it wasn't a Human. Apparently they had some murders before, too." She shook her head, then drank from the ale she was served. "Whole world's gone right to shit . . ."

The mention of further killings in the area was more than enough to darken Mallory's spirits.  What good cheer she had gained in rejoining with fond companions and simple gestures of fortune seemed to evaporate out of her demeanor all at once.  It left her diminished - she seemed momentarily smaller as a hand raised to habitually fiddle with a pair of mismatched buttons sewn to her collar that didn't match the others on her coat in design or placement.  One was a simple, slightly battered old black wooden button, and the other a nicer, pressed brass button one normally saw as a common fitting on simple armors.  Neither were native to her clothing though and her thumb circled them in turn seemingly without thought.

"It's hard to say if it's the same killer at large without more information than that, I'm afraid." She shook her head pityingly.  The fact that there very likely were multiple murderers running around Ten-Towns at any given time was no comfort to dwell on.  They still hadn't made any headway on locating that nefarious Druid either, come to think of it...  "I believe I may have a lead I can follow; to Easthaven.  More of a hunch, really, but it's better than nothing.  I'll need to head there soon on my own matters, regardless.  I have to bear more than just bad news to someone there, though I'm not yet entirely sure who."

"Well, it had to happen sometime."  The halfling slipped to a seated position on the edge of the bar, and from there pushed off for a hop to the floor.  "No time like the present, right?  No time like the fear and chaos of a murder scare to slip in and look around.  Hoping that no one sneaks up, and introduces themselves as Maer's old girlfriend.  Who goes on about how they used to ... to make love in a snowbank.  To spend quiet evenings by the fire."

"I thank you, Lady Mallory.  Lady Bonheur.  Lady Mallory Bonheur.  And Astre."  Recovering her poise, Tympani Major flexed into a deep curtsy.  "Gifter of orange delight.  The wind that bears memories of better times.  Please call me Tym, Gracious Lady.  You and all of your friends."  She rose, opening arms to take in the entire room.  "It is a poor offering, but it is what is mine to give."

"And now I must depart."  Tym bowed then, as deeply as she had curtsied before, then turned steps toward the door.  She made it half way before circling back around in a tight arc.

"Um ... can anyone point the way to Lonelywood?" she asked.

Rhydd had been standing with his elbows up on the bar, talking quietly with Scramsax. When he noticed that the conversation behind him was breaking up, and that Tympani was making noises about heading out for the Lonelywoods -- that is to say, the Town and the Forest -- he turned around and faced the room, putting his back up against the bar.

"Bad idea," he muttered in response to the Halfling's request for directions, not attempting to sugar-coat his opinion.

"In case you hadn't noticed, there's a storm outside. And not one of your little weak southern summer storms, either -- a true Icewind Dale Howler. If you go quiet and listen for a moment, you will be able to hear it. And if you go out into it by yourself to travel more than a hundred yards or so, you will likely die."

The not-quite-a-Ranger took a drink from the wooden mug that he was holding, and then continued. "And as with most of the old sayings, there's some truth to the one about there being safety in numbers. Moreso than if you are traveling alone . . . well, unless you are me, I suppose."

"Now, we can't strike out for the Lonelywoods right away. But we are one person down after Farwalker left, and as far as I am concerned, you are welcome to take her place and journey alongside us."

"I can't say when it might be, but we will eventually get you over to the Lonelywoods."

Rhydd grunted, and a thin smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Fair warning, though. You seem to be the energetic sort. We might ask you to sing or dance for your supper every now and again, just to break up the monotony of drinking river water and eating trail rations."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:27, Thu 04 Apr.

"Hmmm."  The halfling hmm'ed as she considered the advice.  "I didn't notice a storm outside," she said.  Those words were directed mostly in the direction of the door to the Inn.  Or, perhaps, more correctly to what might be outside, beyond the door, and of a potentially very storm-ish nature.  "But, then again, I wasn't really very awake at the time."

"Alright," she decided.  "Easthaven it is, then."  And she sealed the decision by putting a fist in her palm.  "They wouldn't happen to be a Red Wizard, would they?" Tympani enquired of Lady Mallory.  "Your personage of whom you are Not-Entirely-Sure?  I was through Easthaven a while back.  Let's just say they won't be feeling the cold any time in the future.  Future near or future far.  Burned to death.  Not a pretty smell."  Tym wrinkled her freckled nose at the memory.  "Zhahn or Tzkahn or Dzaan.  Some name that rhymed with Sesame bun."

"Needless to say, I didn't feel much call to stay long.  Even if I hadn't been searching for Maer."

Tympani returned from the door, springing with a metallic *tak* against the floor to the seat of a chair where, standing, she was at a height that made it unnecessary to tip back her head in order to speak in the company of Big Folk.  "Can you tell us more about your hunch, Lady Mallory?"  She asked.  "Better than nothing is, after all, even better when shared."

Stormheart looked over at Rhydd as he responded to the halfling and gave a nod. "Wise advice." He then continued. "Well, Farwalker has graciously agreed to go check on the second owlbear and make sure they are taken care of, but I do still have a whale ferry to visit as well, and see what is going on with them. That is causing some issues with people being able to get to certain areas."

He nodded once more. "But I have no objection to you traveling with us, if my opinion counts." He smiled.

To Mallory, "A...killer?"

Khulekani wasted no time in shrugging out of her road-worn boots, and slipping into the Ice Troll-fur lined boots. All at once, the bone-deep chill that she was barely holding at bay seemed to melt away, as warmth oozed from her covered feet to the rest of her body. The young Squire let out what could only be described as a pleasure-moan, and she actually closed her eyes for a moment and just basked in the splendor of not being frozen. When her oak-brown eyes opened again, they were deep pools of gratitude.

"Oh Mallory...these are...wonderful. Please, if I can, let me reimburse you if I can. This gift could not have been simple to make!" she practically purred.

That she would help with any killers or adventures that the group would pursue went without saying of course.

Mallory felt a mite out of the loop on matters of lost lovers and new companions accompanying along the road, but she figured it would sort itself to sense sooner or later.  For the time being she set to what she could manage, which was still handing out more items.  Khulekani's boots were produced for the grateful Squire to try on; good, sturdy boots already in a similar design to the ones she wore to begin with, but lined with a dense layer of ashy-grey Ice Troll fur.  The exterior leather shimmered with barely visible arcane symbols etched into the leather when the light hit them just so and, same as Mallory and Rhydd's own boots, the interior arch of the each heel was branded with the Bonheur family crest as a maker's mark.

"Nonsense, Squire; you've saved my life twice already.  Frankly, I feel I still owe you much more than mere boots, no matter how cozy the enchantment." Mallory gently refused any effort to pay back the worth of the boots gifted.  Nor was she about to reveal that they'd cost several hundred gold worth of materials to produce.  Selling her works for a fair price was one thing, but it was gratitude that drove Mallory's efforts when it came to keeping her companies warm in spite of Auril's efforts.

As the matter of Easthaven, killers, and Dzaan the Red Wizard came up from Tympani's prompting, the young noble cast a thin glance Khulekani's way.  "We're familiar with Dzaan, but he's not the matter of concern at the moment."  Goodness, she hoped he wasn't.  Despite multiple reports of Dzaan having been executed and herself having very much seen to the destruction of his Simulacrum, she couldn't help but worry that a mage of that level of power would have a contingency in place.  As the classic knowledge went: 'If you easily killed the Wizard, no you didn't'.

Mallory sighed and sat herself down at the bar beside Tympani.  From her outstretched hands radiated a gentle wave of arcane energy as she conjured a small illusion amid her palms; the form of two men stood side-by-side with each other.  One a hunched and hard looking bald fellow, and the other a slightly taller, sharper man with black-and-grey hair and intense, crystalline blue eyes that seeped ethereal mist from their edges.  She held the illusions out for both Tympani and Stormheart to see as she drew a deep breath to brace her feelings on the whole affair.  "A tenday ago, in Targos, Farwalker and I interrupted a blood sacrifice being made to the Frostmaiden - the hanging of a man named Herve, who's name had been drawn in a lottery.  Later that night, Herve and his daughter Maia - a young child - were found murdered in their home.  Butchered and frozen solid in the moment of their death by some form of ice magic."  Mallory was an expressive woman in general but it was obvious how much effort she put into holding herself at a monotone in the explanation.  Her eyes were hollow with the recollection of that awful discovery and, even as she briefly shut them, she could still see it behind her eyelids as clear as ever.  "This man here, with the strange blue eyes, is Sephek Kaltro.  He is a serial killer who's been plaguing Ten-Towns for some time now, and the one responsible for this mayhem.  This other bald fellow is a magical disguise he's used to mask his identity.  It's safe to assume he has others, but this is at least one I know of for certain."

As the illusions faded from Mallory's palms, she once more raised a hand to rub her thumb across the black button sewn to her collar in a seemingly reflexive gesture.  "The Town Speaker of Targos has asked that we search for this killer and deliver any information we can learn as to his whereabouts.  Thus far, we've been unable to find trace of him here in Bryn Shander, nor Caer-Dineval or Caer-Konig.  Wherever he fled to, it wasn't north as far as we can tell." she continued at length.  A glance was cast Moyrah's way - since she and her allies had just been to Lonelywood without any concrete results either; it was difficult to tell if the killings that happened there were Kaltro's doing or some other cause.  "As for my hunch - we know he specifically targeted those who's names were on the list to be sacrificed to the Frostmaiden.  Before Targos, he was responsible for a large number of similar murders in Easthaven as well.  The only towns slated to perform these sacrifices of their citizens are Targos, Lonelywood, and Easthaven."  Mallory gestured to Moyrah briefly.  "As Moyrah has mentioned, there was no clear sign of this monster in Lonelywood and he presumably wouldn't dare return to Targos so soon.  Further, Targos is likely to halt sacrificing their people and presumably sacrifice food instead, if their fishing industry has recovered its volume in the past tenday from our contributions.  It has been nearly a month since he was last in Easthaven, however, and the locals may yet be preparing for another sacrifice since burning Dzaan at the stake.

I believe Sephek Kaltro will be making his way back to Easthaven in pursuit of more victims.  I already have other very pressing business to attend to in Easthaven, so it's a matter of birds and stones."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:28, Sun 07 Apr.

It was a dark story.  But it was also very much fitting for this cold and never-summery land of Icewind.  One could easily imagine that the cold and depredation would breed its own brand of desperation and depravity.  "And a whole host of other 'D' words as well," muttered the halfling to herself.

Expressive green eyes explored the face of the gift giving, Lady Mallory, as they had since she had begun the telling of her tale of ice and death.  "I'm sorry.  I can see how deeply you feel this.  I see it on your face.  It can be hard.  Living with terrible things.  Even though they aren't necessarily happening to one's self.  Some people feel these things more than others."  The dimples at the corners of the halfling's mouth offered a sympathetic smile.

"I know we've just met.  But, you've inspired me.  Let's go after this man.  You said something about a list."  Tympani's freckled face screwed up into a look of distaste.  "Where is this list?  Who decides who goes on this list?  And Frostmaiden, bleh.  Seriously.  Bleh.  Poor taste in divinities."

"Don't you think?"  Tympani tipped her face up to look into that of the Lady Mallory, then she placed one of her small hands upon the human's arm.  "Are you alright?  You looked ... disturbed a moment ago."

A frown creeped up on to Stormheart's face as Mallory talked, and it only grew deeper and deeper into anger as she spoke further. He clearly did not like what he was hearing at all. He leaned forward to stare intensely at the illusory images, as if committing the faces to memory.

"This is...most disturbing news." His upper lip curled in disgust. "Sacrificing - nay murdering! - other intelligent humanoids to an evil deity in...what? The vain and futile hope they will be noticed and stop the unnatural winter??" He spat on the ground angrily.

He pondered for a moment. "Very well. I do need to go check on what is causing issues for the whale ferry since that affects many, but I will put that on hold for the moment to go to Easthaven with you and investigate, and hopefully stop, this...sick person."

Death out in the field where monsters roamed and danger was about was one thing.  Viscera in dissection and disassembly of creatures, even humanoids, as part of her schooling was another.  They were things Mallory could contend with; that she could compartmentalize and tuck away from her immediate thoughts.  They were things she could cope with.  Had it even just been Herve's corpse alone, she felt she could have handled that as much as she'd handled finding Miss Apple's body.  A shame, a pain, but one that could be endured as it faded to an ache in the heart.  But to have witnessed a child, still clutching her teddy bear in her arms...?

At first, Mallory didn't respond to Tympani's sympathies.  Kind words and gestures alike went without remark as the young noble drew in a long, slow breath, then offered the Halfling a wan smile.  "I'm alright." she lied.  All Mallory had in her was to put on a strong facade and take a deep, long pull from her wine.  She emptied the mug in one and gestured to Scramsax for another.



"Precisely that, yes.  It's an abhorrent practice on its face and a fruitless one at that.  But people are scared and desperate; they'll grasp at any shred of hope they can.  Even here in Bryn Shander, where only surplus food is sacrificed, I've witnessed locals who deny themselves shelter and warmth in an effort to appease the Frostmaiden.  I gave a man a blanket and he threw it in a fire out of spite." Mallory shook her head in disgust on the whole situation.  "In Targos, the sacrifices were managed by way of lottery; the practice was established by the previous Town Speaker, though the current Speaker - a man named Naerth Maxildanarr - doesn't favor it and hopefully has been making efforts to do away with the whole mess.  I need to visit him as well as Speaker Shane here in Bryn Shander, come to think of it.  I have some things for him as well." Being a noble meant friends in high places, it seemed... or, at least as high as a backwater boonies as Ten-Towns could yield.

"As for the lists, I'm not certain.  I think it may vary from town to town; the Ten-Towns are by no means unified in... well, anything, frankly.  For the likes of Easthaven and Lonelywood, I don't know how they manage their own practices.  Though based on Dzaan's execution and that there was a preexisting list of names that Sephek Kaltro targeted when he was in Easthaven prior, perhaps the sacrifices are used as a means of executing criminals?" She glanced about to Rhydd and Moyrah in hopes they might have known something on the matter, given that they were locals.

"In any case, Miss Major, while I appreciate your enthusiasm and I certainly don't mind us traveling to Easthaven together if you please, I can't advise that you take up this search.  Sephek Kaltro is dangerous: he's a fanatic of the Frostmaiden, a zealot.  I'm certainly no warrior, though my companions--" she gestured to Rhydd and Khulekani "--have proven themselves more than capable of guarding me from harm.  But I couldn't possibly see an entertainer such as yourself put into the path of danger." A reasonable objection to make on its face, perhaps, though Mallory knew nothing of the Halflings own skills yet.  She only saw Tympani in the most passing of lights for the moment.  She didn't deny Stormheart's offer though; he'd already proven himself and his abilities in having accompanied the others on their task, as well as having Farlwaker to vouch in his favor.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Wed 10 Apr.

"Heh."  It started as a soft chuckle steeped in the warm tones of nostalgic memory.  "Maer and I used to put ourselves into the path of danger with a fair degree of frequency.  More she than I.  Always one to pick a good fight, my Maerthryl."  A frown then dropped down upon the halfling's face.  "Why am I talking about her as if she were gone?"  Tympani Major hopped to her feet, and began pacing the floor.  "You'll like her."  This she delivered with a wave to the goliath.  "She has strong opinions.  She is the shining steel, and I am the silken lash.  We're a team.  And, you know, if there's trouble here.  If this Sephek Kaltro is in need of a goodly dose of justice, I'm betting that Maer is probably there somewhere."

"That decides it!"  The halfling once again punctuated her decision with a slap of her fist into the palm of her hand.  "I'm going.  This is how I'll find her.  Follow the trouble.  Am I right, Scrammy?  Selune's skimpy underthings, I should have thought of this before."

Sephek Kaltro is dangerous: he's a fanatic of the Frostmaiden, a zealot.
"And an ally to Naerth," Moyrah muttered under her breath. But she'd spoken her mind on that matter previously, and she doubted she and the rest would find themselves in conflict with Mallory when push came to shove. Naerth, on the other hand . . .

Upon being prompted by Tym, Scramsax only managed the most skeptical draw of his lips as he ensured every cup was refilled. "Right . . ." He felt like he was finally making headway with her, only for the progress to be swiftly uprooted by this well-meaning band. "Easthaven held ballots," Scramsax said on the topic of sacrifices. He wasn't politically savvy and rarely made other's matters his own, but word got around. "Don't know how justice factors into it." Not at all, he guessed.

"Criminals were extra," the stranger suddenly chimed in after a couple introductory coughs. "On top. Supplementary. And the people murdered had it coming! Hadn't put their names in, they hadn't!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:07, Thu 11 Apr.

More than a mere ally, Mallory knew.  Moyrah's utterance was like a knife in the ribs - at least, what Mallory imagined such a thing might feel like - but it was given no retort.  It was less that the young noble was conflicted on the matter so much as she was yet unsure of how to address what she knew was coming.  Though she had already long since made up her mind in one regard...

Tympani had made up her mind as well, it seemed, and it didn't look like she'd be dissuaded.  "You remind me of a fellow we endeavored with named Leyon..." she remarked dryly behind the rim of her mug.  It was of little matter, really - she could imagine wasting breath trying to argue Tympani from her course would result in nothing but annoying the Halfling.


Such a remark drew a long, slow turn of Mallory's dark gaze to settle squarely on the fellow who'd been preoccupied by his soup until that point.  Though her stare narrowed on him, it was paired by a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.  "Each a violation of the Pillar of Isolation, then, in their own regard?  'A man who expects more of others than he does of himself is a weak man'." she prompted the fellow as she turned a bit in her seat to pay him more due attention.  "Do join the conversation, please, sir.  You speak as if you've knowledge of the matter.  Are you from Easthaven?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:55, Thu 11 Apr.

More than meets the eye.  It was one of those phrases that tripped easily off the tongue.  It was so much so that it was easy to stop at simply saying it, without having to give it much thought.  Such was the line that ran through the mind of Tympani Major as names and unfamiliar ideas began flying about the room like arrows across the width of a contested moat.  And when more is there than comes to meet the eye, then, perhaps it were best that the eye go out and see the more.  Perhaps even request some aid from the ear.  And, as much as it hurt not to be at the center of attention, in times of eye seeking and ear aiding, it was best, or so Tympani Major had found, to walk softly.  Speak not at all.

She padded again to the bar, walking in such a way that the metal taps in her boots made little to no sound this time.  She sprang, then, to the bar top, seating herself once again on the edge next to her only-temporarily-forgotten breakfast.  She sliced more cheese from her allotment, and popped it into her mouth, watching, and waiting for the reply from the possible Easthavener in the corner with his soup.

The soup the scruffy stranger had ordered wasn't warm anymore, for he didn't have an appetite so all he did was swirl it. Didn't help that it was rather bland and very expensive on top. He wiped his nose with his sleeve as he looked Mallory's way. "I've a cold . . . best I keep my distance." Nevermind that he was awfully close to where Tympani had sat and done her acrobatics. "But aye, I'm from Easthaven. A fisherman. Or at least I used to be, until everything froze. Don't know about any pillars, though. Don't have them in Easthaven."

All of the things that you never see when you're just passing through.

The halfling sighed.  Her face settled into a contemplative frown.  More cheese.  This time on a slice of bread.  She took small nibbles from her open sandwich as she digested more than her breakfast.

"That's a tough break," she said to the man in the corner.  "Losing your livelihood."  She leaned in his general direction, palm planted on the bar top to prop herself on one arm.  Just below the bar an idle foot swung in time to a languid, but otherwise silent, melody.  "If you don't mind me asking, why do you think it would be any better in Bryn Shander?  I mean, if you're going to escape this frosty madness, I'd think that leaving Icewind Dale entirely would be the best of courses.  There was work for fisher folk all along the Sword Coast last I checked."  And she tossed the man a friendly freckled grin, that lacked enough in sincerity that a clever and watchful person might come to the impression that this might not necessarily be a friendly conversation on her part.  That she had let slip this modicum of her distaste for this man purposefully, and from an either mischievous or peevish intent.