Milis scratched her head, "I thought Gregor said he'd slit your throat if he had to eat another of your meals." It was difficult to determine if the woman was joking or not but based on the previous two weeks it was likely not. The woman waited impatiently for Silvui to collect his things and depart. It seemed there was no love lost on either side as Silvui walked into the town proper.

The streets of Valls were partly frozen, partly mud and fully stank; it was a challenge to navigate them without getting splashed by the filth as wagons were ridden up and down the streets. It took Silvui a few attempts before eventually someone directed him to the Resting Weasel. Of course, it was across the other side of town. After a time Silvui found the place, a single floor building made of hewn logs which had small open-air windows at intervals along the walls and a stone chimney in the center.

A sign over the front featured a fat red weasel which looked more like a bear and proclaimed the building the 'Resting Weasel'. Even from the outside the music and raucous laughing was evident and once inside the inn was found to be quite crowded.

A long bar at the far end of the room was staffed by two humans, a man and woman. To the right of the common room a minstrel strung a lute in a soft, slow melody. Cards and dice were being played at large round tables and a few smaller tables around the edges and corners of the room were available and empty. In the centre of the room a large fire burned in a hearth dug out of the ground, the smoke billowing to the ceiling and out a stone chimney. The clientele was mixed, mostly humans and male with the odd dwarf, halfling and half-orc.

Nobody paid Silvui any mind as he entered and a few more patrons pushed past him as he stood by the doorway looking around the establishment.

Silvui trudged through the half frozen mud of the streets, only occasionally looking over his shoulder out of habit. Surely it was safe this far north, word couldn't possibly have traveled so far so quickly. As he walked, he considered his next moves. First thing, a fire. This cold was hellish, and the coat didn't help much, given his own low temperature. After that, surely an elf would have caught someone's attention, and surely that someone could be plied with drinks.

It was with such thoughts rolling in his head that he entered the Resting Weasel. His first move, as planned, was to the fire, where he sat and bathed in the warmth and the music for at least five minutes before he stood and made his way to the bar.

He sat off to the side, where he could see the door and keep track of who came and who left, and waited for one of the two tending the bar to come his way.

"It's colder than a miser's heart out there," he said to whoever came over after a few seconds of waiting, "What've you got to get this damned chill out of my bones?"

Silvui chose a suitable seat at a vacant table and waited. While he waited more patrons came into the inn and either stood around the fire talking or sat at what tables remained. Eventually all tables were taken and the few seats available were at Sulvui's table. The staff were busy, and it was a few more minutes before he caught the eye of the man behind the bar. The man approached and nodded his head to Silvui, "Aye, no different from any other day, you must be new here." He tilted his head sympathetically, "What you after? Ale's two copper, rabbit stew with last week's bread for two silver, a room for the night upstairs for eight silver."

As he rattled off the services Silvui noticed a halfling woman enter the common room. Two guards flanked her in leather armor and were carrying swords, one was a human man with dusky brown hair, the other was taller and slimmer, an elf with blonde hair in a long ponytail down his back. Seeing the last seats available at Silvui's table the halfling spoke to the human man and the three started walking over.

The halfling hopped up onto a seat and looked to the barman at the table. After Silvui finished his order she piped up, "Evening Duncan, not so bad out tonight." She nodded politely to Silvui as her two guards sat either side of her. "The usual Duncan, for my two friends too. An ale each for them too." She took a purse off her belt which appeared filled with coin and drew out two gold pieces. She handed them to the barman and nodded as he left. "Yep, not too bad out tonight indeed."

Silvui listened to the menu, nodding along. Food, drink, and fire, all was well with the world for now. He thought his options over briefly before answering.

"Yeah, I just got here today off a caravan job, I've never been somewhere so cold," he said, producing a gold coin from his purse. Tell you what, how about a bowl of stew, whatever kind of stiff drink a silver will get me, and..." he trailed off as the unknown woman and her two lumps of muscle entered and made a straight shot for his table. He watched them sit down warily, and with one eye kept on them he finished his order.

"And you keep the last silver for yourself," he finished, handing the coin over to the man, Duncan apparently. When Duncan had headed off, he openly stared at his new friends before responding to the halfling in front of him.

"Not too bad? If you don't mind weather cold enough to give a troll frostbite, maybe. Name's Caleb, mind telling me yours?"

21:24, Today: Silvui Dalcan rolled 24 using 1d20+5.  Deception(No, really, it's Caleb).

After seeing to the halfling womans order Duncan left with a nod of thanks for the tip.

The halfling smiled to Silvui as his jest, "It's a pleasure to meet you Caleb. I am Sten. These gentlemen with me are Rodrin and Turiel." She motioned to the human and elf in kind who spent the time talking quietly between themselves across the table and didn't respond.

Sten hopped down off the stool to the men could sit together and she took the seat beside Sulvui. "New to town huh? Well, I've been living here all my years and my parents and theirs’s before them lived in Damara as well." She slapped her chest, "The colds in my blood!" She grinned but waved the boast away with a hand. "Truth is I know it's tough, I get enough complaints from the guards who travel with me."

Duncan returned with drinks for the table. Two mugs of ale were placed in front of the guards and a short, wide porcelain mug was placed in front of Silvui. A small, tightly packed snowball was in the middle and it sat on a small clear liquid pool which smelled like sweet barley. Duncan left with a small bow.

Sten leaned over and nodded, "Oh, a frozen poitín. Very adventurous." The guards had started their ales and were still talking between themselves, "So what brings you to the frozen north?" Sten asked.

Silvui scooted to give the halfling, Sten, enough room to sit, which also conveniently created enough of a gap between them that she'd not be able to pull a knife or manacles without him noticing. He nodded nodded along with her introduction to show he was listening, and returned the minor anecdote in kind.

"I'm about as new as can be, just left the caravan an hour ago. Lyrabar wasn't anywhere near this cold," he said, subtly trying to listen in on the other two across the table.

When Duncan returned with the food and drinks, Silvui paused, picking up and examining his strange drink. He sniffed it, and liking the smell, took a decent sized drink. He shuddered appreciatively as the alcohol slid down his throat, and pulled the stew in closer. "I'm here looking for someone, an elf what goes by the name Rahadriel. I've got some business with him, on behalf of a cursed fellow I know."

23:42, Today: Silvui Dalcan rolled 5 using 1d20+1.  Perception(eavesdropping).

The guards were talking in hushed tones between themselves, it didn't appear they were being deliberately evasive and Silvui picked up a few words, "Bloodstone." "Goblins." "Caravan." For a mechant guard of the region they did not appear to be discussing anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was the noise in the now crowded inn or maybe the verbose halfling beside him but Silvui struggled to make out much more than the occasional familiar word.

"Lyrabar!" Sten exclaimed, "Never been that far myself. That's on the Sea yeah? You must have come real far then."

Sten listened patiently to Sivui as he mentioned his search. "Hmm, can't say I've heard of an elf by the name of Rahadriel." She leaned over and tapped on the table by her guard, "Hey Turiel, you ever heard of an elf named Rahadriel?" The elf shook his head and continued his discussion with the human man.

"Well, sorry I can't help you. Not many elves passing by either." She shrugged, "Unless he's one of them snow elves, but they'll as soon cut you as talk to you." Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh, you know what? My shop's in a little village west of here, there's an elf there, Thamior is his name. Been there as long as anyone can remember. Runs a magic shop, does fortunes and sells scrolls and potions. If anyone around might have seen your elf I'd guess it'd be him."

"Very far, yeah. This Rahadriel is supposed to be the best at what he does though, so coming this far north is plenty worth it to get my friend a cure." Silvui said to hold her attention as he gauged her expression and scrutinized her tone, searching for any hint of duplicity in her mentioning of this village to the west.

Once he was satisfied with his assessment, he scratched his chin to give the appearance he was thinking it over before responding, doing his level best to keep his excitement at a potential lead out of his voice.

"That'd be awful kind of you if you'd introduce me to him, how far out is this village?"

ooc: 23:29, Today: Silvui Dalcan rolled 15 using 1d20+3.  Insight(does the mention of this village sound genuine or does it sound like she's baiting a trap?). 23:31, Today: Silvui Dalcan rolled 14 using 1d20+5.  Deception(Keep it cool man).

Meals for the table came, four bowls of stew and crusts of hard bread. The two guards turned back to the table, their conversation had ceased and while they ate, they looked between Sten and Silvui as they conversed.

Sten dipped her bread into the stew and finished the husk before looking back to Silvui. "Thamior is good at what he does, charges enough to scare away most of the village folk but if you have some coin or the ability to help him then he might have some information." Sten took a mouthful of stew, "What sort of curse is your friend under? I've travelled a bit and have a few tinctures and tonics in my wagon. Maybe it's as easy as the right cure?"

She nodded enthusiastically at an introduction, "An excellent idea! I would be happy for you to accompany me, I can make the introductions when we arrive." She motioned to the men beside her, "It is around a day’s travel by cart, I have a wagon so we would be travelling for around eight hours."

When the stew arrived, Silvui pulled it close, taking a deep breath to enjoy the smell before tucking in, clearly relishing something aside from his own abysmal cooking for a change. He followed Sten's example and dipped his bread in the broth to soften it up a bit, and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and answering her.

"I'm not really sure, he just started having these nightmares. He'll wake up in the night screaming like he's being murdered, and he says it's always the same thing. A monster made of shadows chasing him down in some kind of maze, and the things it does when it catches him..." Silvui shuddered at the recounting, and groped for his drink, downing the rest of it in short order.

"Yeah, it's bad," he said, relaxing as the drink settled in his stomach. "Apparently his family's got this old story about some ancestor of theirs crossing a demon, so we figured that'd probably be where all this is coming from. It's why I'm out in this frozen end of the world looking for a wizard instead of herbalists closer to home, this elf is supposed to be some kind of expert from what I hear."

He let all of that sink in as he tucked into the stew, feeling the perpetual chill fade just a bit with each mouthful. After about half a minute of silence on his part, he set the spoon down and continued.

"Awful quick of you to hop on board with my idea," he observed dryly. "What's in it for you that you're so willing so quick?"

Sten continued eating and the guards continued talking between themselves. The elf got up and walked to the bar but after a minute only returned with two ales and set one down beside the human man. Sten followed along with Silvui's explanation of the curse with wide eyes, "Sounds horrible. Don't know if Thamior knows anything about that sort of stuff." She shivered herself, "He's a good fortune teller but I don't know if he can break curses."

Realising she may be putting a damper on things she smiled, "But don't worry, I'm sure if he can't help he will know someone who can!"

She buried her head into her bowl and began eating until Silvui questioned her, "Oh. Ah" She shrugged, "It's only fair you know if you will be coming. I have hired these two gentlemen," She nodded her head towards the guards, "For my trip to Barrow's Edge. I need a guard as there have been increasing raids on the hamlet by goblins. They haven't attacked any wagons yet, but the village is fighting them off every couple of days."

She looked back towards the door before taking another spoonful of stew, "I was expecting one more to possibly join me, a hunter from this region who was familiar with the wilds but he has yet to return from a hunting trip." She looked up to Silvui, "So if you want to come it would be one more guard for my caravan and you'll be getting there safely yourself. I think it's a win for both of us!"

Silvui thought it over carefully as he continued eating. He hadn't expected some local herbalist to have known how to fix his problem anyway, else he wouldn't be in this frozen Hell, so hearing Sten's confirmation of his suspicions wasn't nearly the blow it might have been otherwise.

Goblins active in the area, that sounded bad. This Thamior could be a lead though, wizards liked to keep tabs on each other, right? No, this was too good an opportunity to pass up, a little extra danger be damned. No little green anklebiter was getting between him and a cure, not after everything he'd gone through to get here.

His mind made up, he swallowed the mouthful of soup he'd been working on while he thought things over. "Don't worry about your man not being able to help. Like I said, it sounds to me like the kind of thing you need a specialist for, no disrespect to Thamior of course, I'm sure he'll be able to point me the right way at least," he said, pausing to finish off his meal before continuing.

"So you get a third guard for the trip to this Barrow's Edge, and in return I get safe passage as well and an introduction to this Thamior fellow? Sounds like a fair trade to me. You wouldn't happen to have a crossbow I could borrow for the trip, would you? I'm not a terrible shot, but I wasn't expecting a whole lot of trouble, so I've only got this on me, and a couple other nasty tricks I've picked up here and there." He explained, pulling his coat open enough to reveal the sheathed dagger, wickedly sharp, resting on his hip.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 10:22, Sat 19 June 2021.

Sten's eyes lit up with a smile as Silvui confirmed his acceptance of her offer, "That's great! I agree, a fair trade." She drained the remainder of the soup by taking the bowl to her mouth, comical and oversized for her halfling form.

"Meet me by the Wagoneer's Stables, it's just down the end of this street and to the left. We leave tomorrow just after dawn so if you still want to come make sure you're on time!" She pushed the bowl away from her. "With any luck my hunter has seen some success this evening and will join us as well. Like I said, I don't expect any trouble but if we're all heading in that direction why not go together!"

"A crossbow?" She nodded, "I think I can manage one for you to use should we need it."

Duncan returned and cleared the table of empty bowls and mugs, the two guards asked for another ale each. Sten waved him away, not wanting anything and the barman looked to Silvui if he wanted anything else.

Silvui nodded, pleased at the day's success, feeling a small surge of hope as a smile worked it's way onto his face.

"Don't worry, I'll be there bright and early," he said, determined to keep his word on that. He'd probably best turn in soon if he wanted to be close to rested for the trip.

As if by providence, Duncan chose that moment to return. Silvui waited patiently for the man to gather up the dishes, and pulled out another one of his coins from his purse, handing it over to them man, careful to make no skin contact as he did so. "Here you go Duncan, eight silvers for a room, right? That and something a bit stronger to help me sleep'd be grand, and you can keep whatever's left over."

Duncan took the coin with a nod, "I'll get your room key and bring you back a nightcap."  He returned to the bar to prepare the drinks.

Sten hopped down off the chair and looked up to Silvui, "Well Caleb, see you tomorrow morning bright and early. Hopefully by tomorrow evening you can have some answers for your friend." She looked to the two guards with a sterner face, "Not too much drinking you two, need you at the stables at dawn." Both of them looked to her with a nod and a smirk, they didn't seem to take the chastising too seriously.

With a wave to Silvui Sten headed turned towards the exit just as a human man entered, covered in furs and with a hood drawn he was non-descript for the area. Sten waved her arms to him and spoke loud enough for Silvui to head as she walked away, "Ah! Speak of the devil. How was the hunt?"

She approached the man and their conversation was lost in the noise of the tavern room as she pointed back to the table.

Duncan returned with a mug of what smelled like whiskey and a room key with the number 6 on it. "Stairs to the right of the bar, follow the hall and room's on the right."

Silvui accepted the key and drink gratefully, nodding at Duncan's instructions. He rose from his seat, pushed his chair in and looked to the other two who'd been with Sten. "Night you two, see you both tomorrow," he said before making his way to the stairs.

The room wasn't bad, definitely worth the eight silvers. A sturdy, warm looking bed and a small table with a chair took up most of the space, which suited him fine. His first action on entering was to lock the door behind him, then wedge the chair under the knob, just as an extra precaution.

The room secured, Silvui sighed and let his tiredness begin to overcome him. Quickly, he downed the whiskey in one, relishing the burn of the drink settling in his stomach, before sighing resignedly and producing the cloth gag he'd used the way here, securing ot in his mouth and laying down for another night of torment.

The room Silvui entered was likely some of the best accommodation he had seen in months. The room was spacious and surprisingly warm. It was sparsely decorated with only the essential furniture for a guest. A double bed was topped with a feather mattress and clean blankets; a chest with a key in the lock was at the foot of the bed. A lantern hung on the wall by the door which cast a dim light through the room. Silvui noticed that one corner of the room was taken up by the chimney, the heat from the fire downstairs used to warm the room through the stones. A pitcher of water, a bucket and small table sat beside the chimney. A small table and a single chair was in the room which Silvui used to block the door handle after locking the door.

Preparing himself for another night Silvui lay his head down and fell asleep to the drone of conversation and music downstairs.

Silvui tossed and turned in the bed, groans muffled by the gag.

The room cooled during the night, even under the blankets it was almost uncomfortably cold.

Shuddering as the heat faded, Silvui unconscoisly pulled the blankets tighter, attempting to ward off the cold.

The chill was unnatural. The heat of the stone chimney had all but dissipated from the room. The vapor in Silvui's breath condensed into fog as he slept.

Whimpering through the gag, Silvui curled up under the blankets, seeking any kind of warmth.

Frost started to form on the window furthest from the chimney, the condensation in the room began to chill and small icicles began to form on the window frame.
Silvui awoke in the pre-dawn gloom. The room was deathly cold and the sweat in his hair had turned to frost.

With a groan, Silvui rolled from the bed, landing on his hands and knees with a thump, his hurting arm giving out under his weight and leaving him flat on the frigid floor. Groggily, he fumbled with the gag for a minute or two before he finally managed to remove it, allowing him to cough and dry heave freely.

When the coughing and pain had subsided, he raised bloodshot eyes to take in his surroundings, noting the terrible chill as he slowly pulled himself up on unsteady legs and made for his coat. As he pulled it off the bedpost he'd left it on, he let a trickle of magic slide into it, warming the material up considerably as he pulled it on. It wouldn't last, but it was better than nothing.

"At least I'm up on time..." he muttered to nobody in particular as he finished dressing, drawing up more power from the well inside himself, absentmindedly tracing all manner of arcane runes along his arms and torso, leaving ink-like marks on his body that sank into his flesh after a few seconds, leaving nothing but a lingering tingle of magic to indicate they'd ever even existed.

His preparations finished, he pulled his pack back onto his shoulders, made a token effort to throw the blankets back onto the bed, and left the Resting Weasel, depositing the room key on the bar for Duncan to find before making for the stables.

ooc: I'm using the warming function of Prestidigitation to warm one cubic foot of nonliving material, my coat, for one hour. In addition, I'm casting Mage Armor to enhance my AC for the next eight hours, then burning my two sorcery points to get the slot back.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:22, Wed 30 June 2021.

Silvui left his near frozen room and dropped they key back off at the counter, another man was lounging by the end of the bar and was started awake as Silvui dropped off the key. The man gave a nod as Silvui left the Resting Weasel and headed to the stables.

It wasn't a long walk by distance but Silvui struggled to locate the stables. What should have been no more than ten minutes turned into just over half an hour as Silvui navigated the street and backstreets looking for the Wagoneer's Stables.

Apparently Sten's idea of 'just down the end of the street and to the left', was halfway down the street and then left through a maze of back alleys to a stables set on the western edge of the town. But Silvui made it, eventually.

Please continue in the PROLOGUE - Josiah & Silvui thread.