The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

[Ireth]

At the mention of family, Rikhard bit his lip and shook his head. "No. I... I have no family. I just thought..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. Every reminder of his ignorance stung like a lash. He huffed out a breath through his nose and went on, "Do you have a map I could look over? Navigation skills are nothing if I don't know where we want to end up."

 

[Gryphos]

Bendalitz laid his crossbow down on the table. He wasn't planning to use it, even though the bolt from earlier was still there next to it – it was just getting a bit uncomfortable between his back and the wall. It did make the barmaid who brought his drink over rather nervous, though.

"I don't think the boss'll be happy with you having that thing out in the open," she said.

"I don't think anyone will," Bendalitz replied. "But I'm Bendalitz Agrippen, and that over there is Farrun Ramshorn, and some other people whose names you wouldn't know. So if your boss knows what's good for him, he won't worsen the bad impression he's already given. Thank you for the drink."

Bendalitz bowed his head, and the barmaid took off.

Besdies, Bendalitz thought as he eyed the crossbow, he liked the image the openly displayed weapon gave him. Perhaps the main thing that separated the Left Hand from a simple assassin is that while an assassin endeavours not to be seen, he makes it his complete and total mission to be seen by many.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison let others speak with Farrun. In the meantime she found two flies and a wasp. She had them fly circles around her finger. Once an idea was planted, Addison didn't need much effort to maintain it. "Hmm…" She watched them for a while, then noticed a lull in the conversation. Perhaps Farrun was about to reach into his bag. Addison didn't know if or why.

She simply spoke her mind.

"Earlier today, Farrun, ye asked me what I'd think best about training. The way I see it, I don't claim to be at the level o' Loke or yourself, but I do know me blade like I know me fingers. Our young ones really need practicing in the basics. As I told ye, if ye mean to pair me off with Troia, I'll show her the ways o' the Huntress. She's got the natural abilities—just a matter o' training 'em up. Give all o' these teens a couple o' months o' solid training, they'll do alright in a scuffle."

Addison didn't feel the need to stress the significance of her wyvernhide. Her speed rushing Troia was likely enough to show Farrun she'd handle herself in a melee. Had the innkeeper made the mistake of charging her…

"Farrun, I can fight and I can shoot and I can trap. But where I'm a novice—with plenty o' room for growth—is here." She extended her arm to give Farrun a good look at the ring of insects rapidly circling her finger. "I need ye to help me control me magic. Maybe some tips about not wearing meself out too. I felt a bit dizzy out there, and also mucked up me commands and got shit on, and I think a spark from me finger killed a fly I was playing with."

Addison glanced down in attempt to check on the fly on the floor. But as soon as she took her eyes off of her finger, the two circling flies bumped into each other. They bounced off the table then scattered. Addison didn't realize the wasp landed on her finger until she felt its sting. "You shit!" She gave the wasp the idea to fly into the fireplace. The wasp complied, to the Huntress' satisfaction.

The sting was painless to the Huntress. She simply faced Farrun, her emerald eyes patiently awaiting his response.

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard glanced toward Addison as she spoke, and couldn't help but raise a brow. "Who among us besides Troia is younger than twenty?" Certainly not him. Einan, possibly, though from what he knew elves' ages were hard to tell. Caradoc and Eoran had both admitted to being much older than they looked.

 

[Tom]

Einan eyed the other members of their party before speaking up. "I'm nineteen, nearly twenty."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard nodded. "I'm twenty-three, myself." He said it mainly to Addison, to ensure he wasn't mistaken for younger than he was.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Indeed, Rikhard was likely a few years Addison's senior. Just less experienced.

Oh? Same age then? I best say nothing o' that.

Addison gave Rikhard a sheepish grin.

"No offense meant, Rikhard. I meant Princess and her man're teens, but you're right, age ain't got squat to do with it. I just meant those of us who don't make a living out o' wielding weapons'll need the basics in melee, where I need the basics in magic. I see the potential good in it. But I muck up me beast-speak, well… shits on me arm, dead fly, stinger in me fingertip—burnt wasp ain't a muck-up, I meant to roast that li'l shit."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard nodded at Addison's answer. "Fair enough."

He looked back toward Farrun, waiting to see if he had a map.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

"Not really," Addison replied with a hint of remorse. "I did use mind control to send the wasp into a flame. I suppose a beast-speaker's supposed to have more respect for life, even if the life's an annoying shit. Don't know about that, but definitely nothing fair about what I did."

She did find it amusing. Maybe Loke saw the humor in it.

"Still, some swell up from the stings. Any o' you swell up from wasp stings?" Addison turned to the nearest table. "Any o' you?"

A man shrugged.

"You're welcome," Addison said before returning her expectant gaze to Farrun. She noticed Rikhard was giving Farrun the same look. A reminder to meself why I've yet to attempt leading a band o' me own.

 

[Nimue]

Farrun, trying to recall whether the map was in saddlebags or cart-gear, and worrying about that last flash of unhappiness from Rikhard, was slow to answer. Addison piped up in the pause, and Farrun was left untangling her threads of question and information, made more knotty by her accent. The flies buzzing around her hand were a little alarming--surely she could be persuaded to keep the insect life away rather than drawing it near?

He cleared his throat, finding it dry. "We do have an oiled map. It's in a case in the cart somewhere, though I have a smaller map in Boar's saddlebags. I mean to check on the horses later, make certain they're cared for, and I'll fetch it then. Don't worry about the contents of our bags," he added. "The gear's bespelled, and anyone who tries to pilfer it will regret it."

The ale arrived, in a clatter on the tabletop, settled with the handy grace of a barmaid from her platter. "Thank you," Farrun said, and tipped her generously--he hoped most of that coin would end up in her pockets, and not the innkeeper's, should he choose to dock the perceived shortage in payment from his household. He grabbed a tankard and drained half of it, pausing to wipe the foam from his beard before addressing Addison.

"I'm no druid," he reminded her. "But I can teach you the basics. Mindfulness, control. The more precise you are, the less of your power will be wasted or misfired." He let his magic rise within him for a moment, and saw the blue crackles that came and went around her like an aura, as she played with the flies. What have I gotten myself into, he wondered ruefully. "Be aware of your limits. If it starts to weary you, give it a rest. I'd rather not have to tie you to your saddle."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard nodded as Farrun spoke. He supposed he could wait until later to look at where they were headed. "Alright. Thank you."

He took an ale from the platter and sipped it dubiously. It wasn't bad... milder than the spicy grog he'd had to prepare for the Captain and his crew, but nowhere near as sweet as the honey-mead Caradoc and Eoran had let him taste. He drank slowly, not wanting to dull his wits with it.

"What sort of spells are on our gear to keep thieves out of it?" he asked, looking back at Farrun.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

"Mindfulness. Control." Addison took in the words. "I noticed when I focus on single purpose for a single creature, it's easy. But if I try to give one a different command then the rest, that takes a bit of effort. I think I may've had more luck with the birds if I let Mount Freckle be. Oh, and I noticed when—" She lowered her voice. "—well, when the innkeep pissed me off, then birds weren't to calm. And I got a dizzy spell and thought Loke'd have to carry me in here."

Addison gladly accepted the drink from the barmaid. "Hey, thanks, lady! So, what'd the cook say?"

Addison pursed her lips at the barmaid's response, but she didn't blame her for not asking. She made short work of her grog then said, "Aw, it ain't no problem. No cat's got me tongue. I'll ask the man meself."

The barmaid stammered a half-hearted attempt to dissuade Addison. But the Huntress stood suddenly, beaming with confidence as she bellowed, "Mindfulness, control and precision!" and strode toward the kitchen.

 

[Nimue]

"If anyone but them in our party tries to open the bags, or carry them far from us, they'll get a jolt. Not enough to do lasting harm, but enough to discourage. Their hands'll be marked with spellfire, and I'll get a tug letting me know something's happened. Pretty fancy--not one of my spells, I just keyed it to myself when we stopped at the river, few hours ago."

He paused to knock back the rest of his ale and his brow crinkled at Addison's cryptic exchange with the barmaid. He rose hastily to his feet and caught up with Addison in a couple long strides. "Hold up," he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "What'll you be asking of the cook?"

He had an inkling. "You know, many people don't like magic near them," he said mildly. That was an understatement. "Or near their work. Particularly cooks, bakers, smiths, weavers, and brewers," he rattled off, with far too much familiarity. "They've got finicky jobs, and don't like being made uneasy."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard nodded. Magic was one more thing that was far beyond his ken. It seemed useful, but complicated. He was about to ask what would happen if the thieves tried to keep going regardless of the jolt, but Farrun rose to speak to Addison instead. Oh, well; he could wait. Rikhard sat back and sipped at his ale again, swishing it idly around his mouth.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison stopped in her tracks. "Pointed ears, obedient insects. Bunch o' worry warts, they are."

Despite her gripe, she sat down. A grin crossed her face as she turned to her elven friend.

"I'll tell ye what, Einan. Next person to give ye lip about your ears gets a magic show with dancing rats and bird-juggling. See which of us is despised more then." To Farrun, she added, "Aw, but I only wanted to help out to show we ain't here to make trouble. If I'll end up causing trouble attempting that, I suppose I best save me beast-speaking practice for the wilderness."

She had a fly circle the innkeeper's head twice before sending it out the door.

"For the most part," she added.

 

[DMThaane]

Loke watched the others settle at their table and listened to some of the conversation before quietly slipping out and heading for the stables. He caught up with Snorri just as a stablehand was starting to loosen his tack.

"Please, allow me," he said, unstrapping the saddlebags and heaving them off.

"There's no need," the boy stammered but Loke set the bags aside and started on the saddle.

"I prefer to do things for myself," he explained. "That and I'll be taking the bags to my room. No offence, but I simply don't trust any of you." He smiled, removing the saddle and setting it near the bags.

"Are you really travelling with Farrun Dragonrider?" The boy's voice practically trembled with excitement.

Loke's eyes darted around and he leaned in, acting as suspiciously as possible. "No. It's a secret. Do not tell anyone."

He led Snorri on ahead and the stablehand got the message and showed him to a stall.

"I'll expect him to be well cared for," he said, sliding the bridle free and giving him a rub. Snorri tried to beg for a treat but Loke just ignored him. "This horse is very important to me. One of the few things in this world I truly value."

"I'll take proper care of him."

Loke turned to the boy, taking a step forward and pressing him into the corner of the stall. It was fascinatingly easy to control a space. It was surrendered so readily, as though it lacked all value. Only a warrior truly appreciated space.

"You seem like a nice boy. Trustworthy. Your innkeeper mentioned that some people in the village might take exception to us having an elf in our company. A man of suspicious mind might even think he would try to rile them himself."

"I don't think—"

Loke stopped him by placing his fingers on the boy's chest and pushing him up against the wall. In truth he wasn’t using any strength but, like Snorri, the boy was well-trained and he could lead him anywhere with only the slightest pressure.

"Yes, do not think; it is unhealthy for you. Now, if there is unrest I would very much prefer it if you could inform our leader before anything were to happen. For this, I would be eternally grateful. If something were to happen and we were taken by surprise. Well… I would be very disappointed."

He pressed the bridle into the boy's hands. "If you could clean my tack, that would also be nice."

Loke left the boy and picked up his saddlebags, heading for his room. In truth, he did not expect trouble, that was merely a game the innkeeper had attempted to play, but he was a cautious man by nature and trust was a currency he had always been poor in.

 

[Nimue]

"I can assure you," Farrun said with exaggerated gravity, "Dancing rats would be ill-received."

He caught the eye of the barmaid again. "Another mug of ale for me, and can we all get supper? Whatever's hot and good."

The barmaid half-curtseyed, but hesitated, and at last blurted out-- "Are ye really the Dragonrider?"

Farrun deflated visibly. "Who's told you that?"

"The man in the corner there told Ingrid so..." The maid gestured towards Bendalitz's shadowy seat.

"Blasted man," Farrun muttered, then smiled ruefully. "If it gets us a better portion of meat, mayhap I am," he said lightly. She nodded, bemused, and hurried off.

It couldn't be too much harm for the town to know who they were, not so close to the Hintercrown. Anyone in the capital could have told what road they went out on. But once they drew further north, he wanted to lead no one to them and their quest...

 

[Tom]

Einan raised an eyebrow at the 'dancing rats' comment, but smiled at Addison. "Thanks for sticking up for me and my pointed ears, Huntress. It means a lot to me."

As the barmaid walked past him he caught her eye, intent on asking her for more ale. However, she blinked, a look of panic on her face, then hurriedly looked away as if she'd never seen him. He snorted. A shame she couldn't seem to acknowledge his existence--she was a remarkably pretty girl, obviously of Folk descent, tall and slender, with pale blonde hair and green eyes. Almost elf-like.

"Stop it," Troia said, as if sensing his thoughts. "She hates elves anyway, so it's not like she's going to flirt with you."

"If you can practically swoon over our dragonrider every time he looks at you, I think I have the right to appreciate a pretty girl," he replied loftily.

"Shut up!" she hissed, eyes darting to Farrun, her face flushed beet-red.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison noticed the looks shot toward the group during the couple-spat.

She slipped her hand gently onto Troia's hand, then smiled as she said, "I appreciate a pretty girl meself."

Addison's voice seemed to be the only sound in an otherwise quiet moment. Her hand gave a slight tremble.

 

[Nimue]

Farrun did his best to suppress a smile at Einan's remark, though his dimple might have betrayed him. If he'd been with the party longer, he'd have teased Troia a little--but eighteen was a tender age! He lifted his mug to drink the very last dregs of his ale, and set it down when he'd composed himself.

"'Tis sad, but I don't think any of us will find someone to flirt or dally with tonight. Though if you're bored, you can always make a game of how many people look away when you look over." To illustrate, he slung his arm back over his chair and looked back at the opposite side of the room. A good half-dozen people twitched their faces towards walls or companions. He took the moment to assess the muttering group in the far corner, too. They were not so hasty to look away from him, and the hostility in their eyes was plain to see.