The First Heavy Snow (Open)

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Vhalar 79th, 719

Soren woke early, seeing the bright white glow shining through his windows. It finally happened. He knew it had to have been soon, and it seemed today was the day. Snow day. He'd been prepared for this day for some time now, having learned from previous years. Today would be a celebration. And so, he got up, stretching his fingers, sore from age and the creeping cold that had been coming into the season. He went through his morning routine of cleaning and grooming, went through the routine of balancing his books while eating a bowl of yogurt down at the bar. Once he was done, his lockbox and ledger locked away, he waited.

And it wasn't long that he'd have to wait.

The side door unlocked and opened as the morning staff arrived, they were all smiles, bundled up in scarves and heavy coats of fur. Soren looked at them, "Shall we?" And so, they set to work. The cooks began getting the morning breakfasts being made, as well as prepping extra, large batches of mulled wine, spiced apple cider, and hot cocoa. More staff were in than usual, knowing that the first day of snow was an opportunity for overtime.

Soren, Billiam, and Charlize went outside into the thick snow trudging their way down the road a ways, to a small park. This park was just a small, though deep pond with some trees around it, and a carved runestone, indicating that a woman named Loren really loved this spot a couple hundred arcs ago. Billiam walked over to the ice, tapping it with his metal tipped walking stick. It cracked easily, so he punched at it over and over, breaking up the surface. He watched the surface, seeing that it wasn't rapidly freezing over. "We're good to go here boss, we'll get the wood and robes."

Soren nodded, trudging back to the tavern. Out front were the triplets, shovels in hand, clearing half the road in front of the tavern and carving a path toward the pond, down the alleys, and around the back room entrance. They made evenly sized, large, spaced out piles of snow. Soren approached Charlie, who looked up at him with a smile, "Good snow for building. We're good to go here. Same prizes as last arc?" Soren nodded and smiled, heading inside. The inner decor was festive, blues, whites, and light purples, the fires were stoked, getting ready to burn hot and bright. The air already smelled of the cooking food, heavy with wintry spices.

Soren poured himself some cinnamon whiskey, then poured some fresh coffee on top of it, looking around as his staff finished preparations. The place operated like a well oiled machine, and he couldn't be prouder. The front road was prepared for the morning snow sculpture contest. Soren would judge these sculptures himself. All participants got a free drink. Third place got a bottle of liquor or wine of their choice. Second place got a small barrel of beer of their choice. First place got a large barrel of beer or a crate of liquor or wine of their choice.

The side alleys and the back road were prepared for the snowball fights and wars (mostly for children, but Melrathi adults seemed to enjoy getting into them as well). Typically the side alleys were used as team bases, where snowballs were built and people prepared, and the war itself fought outside of the backroom. It got brutal typically, but it was all in good fun. And it would eventually devolve into chaos, with it being every man, woman, and child for themselves. It always did.

The pond was prepared for the polar plunge. Billiam and Charlize prepared a large bonfire in the road, somewhat near to the pond. They kept a supply of sacks and robes on hand. The rule was simply. Strip down naked, put your stuff in a sack, jump in the pond, last as long as you could, get out, receive a robe, and get sent to the tavern for a free drink. They would start once a fair amount of people showed up, with Billiam and Charlize going first, to show that it wasn't something to be scared of. They were the reason this event existed, for they didn't even need to return to the tavern to endure the cold. They were from the coldest villages of Melrath, after all.

And the tavern was prepared to sell quite a bit of alcohol and warming food to the participants.

As the eighth break arrived, Soren now expected people to start showing up. And he saw them coming down the road as he stood in the tavern door sipping his coffee. The first were the kids, many of whom had been here last year, racing to claim their snowball war spots and begin making snowballs. Behind them were the trudging adults, just wanting some warmth before they got started.

It was going to be a good day.

Tavern Calendar Entry

Vhalar 79th - First Heavy Snow - On the first heavy snow of the season, the tavern will be hosting multiple events, including a snow sculpture contest, snowball war, and the polar plunge. All Limited Supply Drinks will be 50% during this trial.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Victor Amielle]

Unlike the citizens of Melrath, the Transmuter wasn’t particularly excited when he woke up that morning, tentatively cracked an eye open, looked towards the window and realized that it was snowing. He tried to force himself to fall asleep again, but to no avail. Half a break passed before he finally gave up. It was getting cold inside the house, and there was no servant that he could order to light the fireplace and make hot tea for him.

For a moment he actually considered taking the next ship back to Lysoria – he’d be able to lead a life of luxury there – but then the Aberrant’s face appeared in front of his inner eye, and he realized that he couldn’t return home, not in the near future, and perhaps never.

He couldn’t give in to his brother.

He dressed himself and put on a warm coat with a hood, boots and gloves and made his way outside and to the Ox’s Bellow because he had no interest in preparing his own breakfast. Truth to be told, there wasn’t really anything in his kitchen that would make a suitable breakfast. There was just a bottle of wine, a bit of stale bread and half a stick of butter that smelled rather funny. He would have to go shopping sometime, he realized.

Shortly after the eighth break, he arrived at the tavern. His boots were covered with snow because not all of the streets had been cleared yet, and there was snow on his coat and his hood as well. Upon taking a look around, he realized that there was some sort of special event taking place. Apparently, the people of Melrath jumped into a pond whose water was as cold as ice in order to celebrate the fact that it was cold. It didn’t make any sense to him.

A part of him felt quite reckless since that fateful trial in Lysoria though. His brother who had pretty much ruined his life would disapprove if he engaged in such a questionable activity and insist that it was unbecoming of a man that had just turned thirty and that was a noble on top of that. For that reason, he stood in front of the pond in question but a moment later, eyeing it appraisingly.

He knew that people would stare if he took his clothes off, and not only because they liked what they saw – there were peculiar markings on his arms and his back – but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. They could stare all they wanted, and he’d stare right back. He took his clothes off, stuffed them into a bag and tentatively put a foot into the water only to immediately draw it back again. It was freezing! Apparently, he realized, he didn’t tolerate such things as well as he had used to. Had he grown soft? Did his messed-up magic have something to do with it?

Frowning slightly because he didn’t like any of the two possible explanations, he stepped forward - and jumped right into the pond. For a moment, he felt as if his heart was going to stop, and his limbs refused to move. His head was underwater for a moment before he emerged again, his eyes wide. He tried his best to stay in the water in spite of the fact that every fibre of his body seemed to be in pain and moved his arms and legs so that he wouldn’t go under again and so that he’d feel at least a little warmer.

After what seemed like an eternity, but had really only been a few trills, he gave up because his limbs felt like they were going to turn into blocks of ice, shatter and fall right off and swam back to the edge of the pond as quickly as he could in order to crawl out again. He tried to grin at the audience, as if he had had fun – he was vain and didn’t want to be seen as weak - but his teeth were chattering too badly, so he simply extended a hand and called out to them in what hopefully sounded like an at least slightly light-hearted tone,

“Can anyone give me a robe, please?”

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren, content that everything was on track, decided to head back out and participate in the festivities, leaving his hat and coat hung up. He made his way down the street toward the pond, seeing Charlize already floating in the frigid waters, a bright smile on her face and a flush in her cheeks and chest. Billiam was already out, wearing the robe though not having bothered to tie it yet, baring all to newcomers without an ounce of shame. After all, he was a blue blooded Melrathi man, and there was no shame in his game.

As Soren arrived, he watched a pale, dark haired man strip down, jump in and jump out almost as fast. Soren was unbuttoning his own shirt on his approach, as Billiam offered a robe to Victor, warmed by the fire, "You look cold, mate." Billiam's eyes did not move off Victor's but there was just the tiniest of downward head nods and a minuscule pulling of a smirk at the edge of his smile. As Soren unlaced his boots and breeches, stuffing all of his clothing into a bag without a care in the world, he looked at Victor, "First drink's free to those in robes. Plenty of food and fire inside as well."

Then with a wink, he turned and stepped into the pond at the shallow side, rather than jumping into the deep end. He walked calmly, relaxed, letting the burning icy water creep up over him. He preferred to take it slow, and it was a time to show off, as Charlize was watching with curious intent. Soren did not falter, his eyes locked on hers as he dipped below the surface, letting a few bubbles escape.

Down here under the water, his eyes closed now, he let the worries of the season so far wash away. Baptizing himself of the stress. Things were going well. Things were going as they should. One mistake wasn't so bad. He opened his eyes again, getting quite the view of Charlize's ample and nubile body in the crystal clear waters. She was a natural redhead after all.

He came back up, an appreciative gasp of air as he did, winking at Charlize, turning and walking back out just as easily as he'd walked in. Billiam handed him a robe, and Soren wrapped it around him, feeling that strange sensation of instant heat on cold, and grabbed his bag of clothes and his boots. He walked back toward the front of the tavern, seeing a couple people beginning to start on the statues. His bare feet on the frozen stone was strange, sticking to it, but he didn't linger, working his way back into the tavern, straight over to the bar. "Whiskey, rocks." His amber drink came, and he tossed down the drink in one big swig, another appreciative gasp escaping him. He set it down and it was quickly refilled.

Drink in hand, he wandered over to one of the fireplaces, and stood before it, warming up, as he sipped on his drink.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Jasper]

Jasper lay in his bed early in the morning before the sun had risen. His brown eyes where closed but he lay in his bed his breath coming in and out slowly and regularly. He didn’t move but just was. He allowed his natural talent and his Aesir gift to just flow around him. He wasn’t seeking any spirit specifically nor was he sensing any really close but there was just something about spending time in the morning meditating and seeking the other side. He continued to lay there and it was only after a little while that he began to sense that the Anok’s around him were Anoks of water, but specifically snow.

He felt his slips begin to spread in a grin and it dawned on him what that meant. The first snow had come to Melrath. One of the countries great blessings but also one of its great dangers. Jasper didn’t move while he lay there just sensing the spirits move around the city. It was nice to focus on something else this morning. Yestertrial he had learned the news that one of the Aesir prophets had rather suddenly died. He knew that this afternoon would be busy as he prepared for the advents of tomorrow as the related to the funeral but this morning he was free.

His brown eyes slowly opened the happy smile still on his face. He knew what he would do this morning. Throwing his blankets off he stood up and rushed around his small place getting dressed. His fire was still going but was at a low glow right now so the room was a bit chilly. Jasper didn’t plan on staying long in his house that morning so he hopped over to his chest of clothing. Where the first thing he retired were his socks. Once on he didn’t need to hope so much on the cold floor.

Despite the chill he was soon dressed and out the door. He was wearing his wool winter clothing, sturdy boots and his Grendel cloak. So it was that he arrived at his destination just as the festivities were beginning to get started. He noticed others had begun to participate in the activities, but there was one imparticular that he had come for. The plunge. Jumping into a winter pound was just something Melrathi men, and a few woman, did each winter, young or old.

Jasper was grinning as he paused to serve the seen before him. He noticed a thinner man who had jumped in and jumped out warming himself, He saw Soren, the man who owned the tavern just down the street step up and take his plunge. Jasper nodded in approval, some just jumped in, others actually made something of it. The handsome young man didn’t stand around watching. There was something to be said about just jumping in.

The tall man quickly stripped down to his brithtrial suit, and stood there with no shame. He was young, and not the only naked person in the park. Besides in his life he had been naked in public enough before. Growing up farming there were times when it was easier to just drop the clothing and work in the fields, and he had dance naked with the spirits a few times since become and Aesir. He did have marks but we work them proudly. Down one arm were the scares from his fight with the Grendel, and down the other was his Embla. It had been designed to look like the Grendel scares but the marks were composed on small spiritual symbols that made up the scare pattern.

He carefully wrapped his clothing in his cloak and set it safely aside. Jasper turned and still grinning stepped back and then took a running leap and jumped as far into the pond as he could. He pulled his body into a ball to help him go farther into the pond, it also created less surface area to smack against the cold water.

Jasper held his position as he came in contact with the water and felt the cold smack him. Once he was full submerged into the water he focused on breathing as he unfolded himself and sank just a big farther into the deep water. Then with a few kicks he started upward. The young man focused on a slow exhale and felt himself reach out to the world around him. He could sense the water Anok of the pound floating around all of them as it was curious about the activity. Jasper came to the surface and pulled in a fresh breath of air and treaded the freezing water for a moment. Actually the water a bit warmer them the air around the pound.

Opening his brown eyes Jasper brock into a chattering grin, and with firm strongs began to pull himself to the shore, grateful for his naturally sturdy form. He focused again on his breathing as moved to help pull his mind away from the cold. Inside him he could feel his spark pleased with their recent activity. They had gone out and done something. As Jasper walked out of the water he ran his hands through his hair trying to removed extra water to help against the freezing. Already he could feel the bumps spreading across his skin and feel his body hair begin to stand on end. Moving from his hair he quickly ran his hands down his body to push the extra water away.

He was young but not stupid so once he felt he wouldn’t soak the robe he took one of the wonderful things and wrapped it around himself working to warm up his upper portions while his feet were a bit chilly. His grinned at the man handing out the robes. Now was the more important part, food and drink. Grabbing his close Jasper quickly made his way towards the tavern. With quick but firm movements he found himself in the tavern shortly after the owner had settled down. Jasper came to the counter and said. “Alivilda’s gold ale please.” Jasper really didn’t care if it was free, it was tradition. Jasper took a drink and enjoyed the feeling as warmed him. He took a seat by a fire place and looked around to see who else was in the tavern. He looked around for the thinner man who had jumped in before him.

[Samuel]

The First Heavy Snow

Samuel scarcely recognized the city blanketed by thick, fluffy snow and for the first time since he'd arrived, left the comfort of his bed voluntarily. Jasper was still sound asleep, judging by his soft, gentle breathing while Samuel fumbled in the dark to exchange his nightwear for something warmer. He somewhat regretted bringing his pet Tyrri along to Raelia since he had to carry the hedgehog everywhere he went, but on days like these he was glad for the company.

Smiling, he stepped out into quiet, desolate streets, the snow crunching under his boots and his breath vaporizing into quick, thin clouds as he ran and slid and skipped his way to Ox's Bellow. He was one of the first of the staff to arrive, his face flushed and his auburn hair speckled with melting white flecks. "Good morning," he breathed as he skipped past Soren and hurried into the kitchen for tea and breakfast, a small advantage to working for a tavern owner.

Ever since he'd gotten himself a woolen cap, Tyrri had gotten into the habit of clambering up to his shoulder and sniffing around his neck as though pleading him to take it off so the animal could curl up on it. Knowing he had a long day ahead of him, Samuel gave in early and found an out-of-the-way spot for the gleeful hedgehog to sit on his cap and chew on some veggies while he went over his tasks in his head. Within half a bell the rest of the staff had arrived, and Samuel welcomed each of them with a lopsided grin, promising a snowball to the face when the opportunity presented itself.

While the triplets shovelled snow, Samuel carried firewood to a spot near Loren’s pond where the brave plungers could warm themselves. Both Billiam and Charlize boasted how long they could endure the freezing water and made a show out of proving their point by diving in first while Samuel tended to the fire. It wasn’t long before the first visitors showed up and his true work began. From the relative comfort near the growing fire, he watched the dark-haired man edge toward the pond with trepidation and wondered how someone so large could be scared by a little water. Maybe he was a foreigner, unaccustomed to the rural traditions surrounding first snow, or perhaps he was just prudish, or a coward.

Definitely a coward, Samuel decided when the man dipped his toe in the water and darted back like a startled deer.

“Surprise, it’s cold…” Samuel said, which seemed to give the dark-haired man the encouragement he needed, or perhaps he’d already made up his mind before. But as the man undid his clothes, it was Samuel who was surprised to see strange markings on the man’s back, his Embla? He could’ve sworn the man was an Outlander. Before he could study the markings in any detail however, the stranger plunged into the cold to the cheers of Billiam and Charlize and re-emerged mere trills later.

The man would likely consider it an act of kindness or pity, but Samuel knew Billiam was merely doing what Soren had asked of him when he handed the shivering man one of the robes. “That was quick,” Samuel couldn’t resist to comment. Usually it was his brothers who made that remark to him when they went through the same ritual each arc in Alivilda, but this time he felt confident he could’ve outlasted the stranger. From the corner of his eye he noticed Soren had arrived to partake as well and decided to put a little more effort into the job he’d been given.

Locking eyes with Victor, he beckoned the man over to warm himself by the fire. “Those marks, they some kind of lucky charm?” More people came to the pond, including his brother whose experience with cold plunges made him far more relaxed than the stranger had been. Samuel couldn’t quite mask a jealous glint in his eyes seeing as his brother had inherited all of their father’s strength while he had to make do with the man’s stubbornness, but as quick as the thought entered his mind, it faded, and he settled his gaze back on Victor. “I’m Samuel,” he said, offering a hand, then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, “I work at the inn by there. Between you and me, I can’t recommend their ale, my family’s is miles better.”

[Navyri]

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;

“Had a swim already?”

Navyri dipped around the side of Billiam, peering up at the large bartender. Broad and muscular, if it wasn’t for her wings, he would easily manage to make her look small in comparison. She patted his back and eyed those who had gone already. Almost all men so far, although Charlize red hair stood proud among them. Good for her. “You’ll have a robe ready for me?” she asked, eyeing what was beneath his own.

“You’re going to jump?” Brow lifted, Billiam knew she was outlander (not a very hard thing to gather) and it wasn’t without consideration that she was willing to. Navyri needed to play by Melrathi rules, to earn their trust, and when in town… Enjoy the celebrations while she could.

“Jump?” Navyri grinned wolfishly, hand lifting to untie the bow behind her neck, “Darling, I haven’t done that since I learned to fly.”

She slipped away from her shoes and pulled the ribbon, the soft fabric falling away in one fell swoop to her feet. Navyri stepped away from the outfit, her feet freezing as they touched the snow and her body began to react. As did a few of the others who now openly stared, “Watch my things, please.”

“I’m definitely watching.”

She spilled laughter. Winged, Navyri was a Naer by blood, proud, unbashful. Why shouldn’t she be? Her body was strong, toned, a perfect symphony of soft and sharp, forged but unmarred by battle over the arcs and hairless from the neck down. Smooth skin blackened beneath tattoos of intricacy as the entirety of her back remained an optical illusion; a silhouette of a forgotten city clung to her left thigh and the sun set between her legs. Art imitating life, she exhaled a cloud of cold air and took a deep breath, gaining momentum as she rushed towards the water and rose upwards instead of crashing in.

With a great beating of wings, the frozen air rushed across the surface of the water and she dipped her fingers in, ripples spreading outward in a visual enticement as her body circling around the pond until she pulled back. The currents of wind gave her life and she could see the group that had gathered to enjoy the festivities, some with necks craned to admire her dance into the sky.

And then she relaxed.

Wings going limp, she fell backwards with closed eyes, snowflakes kissing her cheeks, the wind sang into her ear and held her. She pulled her arms in, angled her back.

Delroth.

Navyri’s wings snapped against her body and she shot into the water like an arrow at war. A thousand needles pierced her skin, the water shattered like glass, the cold choked her breath. Shocked. Suspended. The thief wasn’t sure if she could move. Reflexes kicked in, then instinct; Navyri pushed off from the murky floor and clawed towards the surface, gasping when she finally broke its hold. Had she ever been more aware of her body?

Using every limb to paddle through the pond, her wings opened to keep her afloat on the surface and while it felt awkward, it worked well enough. She would need practice in swimming, but no one seemed to fault her, Billiam took her hand to keep her steady that her wings were heavy and soaked. The cold bit her hard, her body began to redden and she desired the warmth only fire could bring.

Fire and the drink she damn well deserved.

“You think some of the sculptors were inspired?” Navyri finally jested between catching breath, her body woven with goosebumps. Charlize came to her right, taking a robe and using it to run along the soaked plumage of wings, and Navyri welcomed the touch, “It might be nice to be someone’s muse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Charlize ran the towel downward and then across the slope of her back, “Your body’s amazing,” she admitted with a firm touch, “I’d fight anyone who says otherwise.”

A shiver cut Nav’s chuckle short, and Billiam held open a robe for Navyri to slither into with a sigh of relief from the warmth, “Thanks; assuming nothing falls off,” she was already looking at the tavern, eager for something hot to eat and a fire to melt near. Charlize grabbed her dress and waited for the Naer to slip on her shoes before handing the outfit over, “It was fun.”

And awful. She tied the robe loosely at her waist.

“I’m gonna go change, maybe do my rounds,” The snowball fight might be more appealing once she had a full stomach and a dressing of furs. Navyri still felt breathless and pulled back towards the Ox’s Bellow, wringing out her hair, “If I freeze before I come back, just prop me up on one of the pedestals. We can split the prize.”

The trio grinned and Nav tucked her clothes under her arm and practically sprinted towards the tavern, hesitating when she spotted a boy with red hair talking to one of the divers. Her feet slowed; something about him was familiar and then she made the connection. He had been at the wall. And then she caught the tail end of a sentence as she passed, ‘I work at the inn by there.’

Since when?

Navyri turned away, still focused on her first goal, but was sure she didn’t the idea of children running around. Tots night would have been bad enough, but if they remained for the foreseeable future? Her body felt like it was burning when she stepped into the tavern. Cold and hot. “Biggest glass of brandy you have,” she decided, leaping towards the bar like a reunited lover, “And something to eat. The spicier, the better.”

The dark haired woman shuffled from one foot to the next, more restless than she usually was and far more eager to get her blood flowing. Near the fireplace, she spotted Soren, lounging in a robe without a care - a merchant’s confidence that only seemed to come from practice and age - and not far away from him, another man, dressed the same. Much younger, a mix of baby face and a jaw that could cut granite, Navyri had mixed feelings about whether or not she was allowed to be interested. He reminded her of Bowman… She had really liked Bowman.

A bit put out that she hadn’t caught a glimpse of this particular stranger taking the jump, she still beamed when her drink was handed over.

Oh well, she thought. The trial wasn't over yet and anything was possible.

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

[Victor Amielle]

“I’m not used to Vhalar being quite as cold, I’m afraid”, Victor remarked to Billiam and shook his head, laughing, as if he were quite amused by his less than stellar performance rather than frustrated and embarrassed. He took the robe and gratefully wrapped it around his body – it was pleasantly warm, and he was absolutely freezing now.

The polar plunge seemed to have attracted quite a large crowd in the meantime, he noticed. He had not thought that so many people would participate in such a strange event, but then again, different countries had different customs. The people of Melrath, he realized, would probably be confused by half of the things that happened in Lysoria as well.

“Thank you for the information, Sir”, he remarked to the older gentleman who had spoken – Soren. “I have to admit I’m rather hungry. I haven’t really eaten anything today yet. Good luck to you, by the way!” Having said that, he grabbed the bag with his clothes and his boots. He had been in a morose mood that morning, but if nothing else, jumping into a pond that was colder than any pond had a right to be had effectively put an end to his somewhat self-destructive thoughts. Warm food and a campfire or a fireplace were at the forefront of his mind now – and a drink, of course.

He was about to make his way to the inn in order to get what Soren had talked about, when he heard a young voice, obviously mocking him. “I’ll do better next time”, he assured him with a laughter, as if he didn’t mind the boy’s comment particularly and joined him by the fire, rubbing his hands together in order to create a bit of additional warmth as he did so.

“My marks?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. Even though he had put a robe on, some of the glimmering markings on his neck were still visible. There was also a peculiar hint of silver in his hazel eyes, and feather-like markings were peeking out from under his sleeves. He had learned that magic was not illegal in Melrath – all you had to do was acquire some kind of paperwork if you intended to stay longer – but at the same time he had been told not to announce his mage status to people, at least not right away.

“They are something like that, yes”, he confirmed and shook the boy’s hand. “I’m Victor, and I have to admit, I’m not particularly familiar with this place yet. I just arrived here from Lysoria earlier that season. If you can’t recommend their ale, what kind of drink would you suggest I get, Samuel? That gentleman over there …” He pointed at Soren. “… told me that I would get a free one if I showed up in a robe. What is your family’s name, by the way? If your family’s ale is better than theirs, I’d like to know more”, he admitted.

[Hart]

"The snow is white," Greta said. She had Eihr's arm tucked into her own. He had asked her to describe the snow. "It sparkles, even in the pale winter sun. It's not like ice and frost. Ice and frost are beautiful, of course. But the snow is just- lovely."

"The snow is cold," Eihr observed with a serious expression, and Greta laughed. "Yes, it's cold," she agreed.

"And it seems to be- oomph," Eihr said, his legs going out from under him. His serious expression was only made more serious. "-seems to be slippery," he said.

Greta tried to pull Eihr up by the arm while his feet skated around for purchase. She was overcome by giggles when he couldn't get his feet under him.

In her laughter she couldn't pull him up and nearly slipped herself; but he finally found his feet and stood. She was still laughing when she tucked his arm back into hers. He almost slipped twice more on the walk, but Greta was strong.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and Eihr felt her lean forward as if looking at something. "That pretty avriel woman just flew into the pond!"

"She's lovely," Greta sighed. Then, "We're almost there."

Eihr heard several people talking and laughing, as well as the low rumble of a large fire. He wasn't able to see any of it, near-blinded by the silver-white light of the Fractures in his eyes. With the additional light bouncing off the snow, he was truly blind.

But Greta was there and she giggled. "They're naked," she said.

"Greta!" someone called, "Jump in!" but she just laughed.

"You know what happened last time," she said.

"Of course!" they called, and Greta giggled again.

"Someone stole my clothes," she said to Eihr. "And I refused to get out of the pond. Then finally they brought the clothes but they were someone else's. A man's. I put them on and he had to put on mine." She laughed again. "He blushed so red he didn't need the fire to keep warm."

"Why?" Eihr asked. Greta seemed to understand he was asking about the pond.

"Oh they strip down and jump in, see who can last in the cold," she said. "Hi, Billie!" she exclaimed, and leaned forward on Eihr's arm to wave at someone.

By the time she'd finished waving, Eihr had his hands at the buttons of his coat. "Eihr!" Greta laughed.

He removed his coat, shucked a sweater, then another, and then his shirt. Greta gathered his clothes in her arms.

"Oh!" she gasped. He felt her hand touch very lightly against his back. The Fractures. "It's- warm," she said, surprised. "It's burning. You have a fever, Eihr, you can't go in-"

"It's not a fever," Eihr said simply.

Next off were the cloths round his wrists -uncovering two more Fractures, which Greta had seen when he had first come to the bakery- then his boots and his pants and the cloths round his ankles, and the rest of his clothes.

"Eihr!" Greta said, and then he stepped into the pond.

It was the deep end.

Eihr plunged into the pond, the sheer overwhelming icy cold of the water wanting to make him gasp. He held it in. His body struggled against the cold of the water, the unwanted gasp trying to choke him, his muscles screaming tight. It hurt, it hurt a lot- and then the cold went through him, numb, and he mellowed. He remained under the water. Then he kicked his feet hard -and it didn't hurt- and he swam up to the surface.

The air hissed against him, Fractures steaming. Eihr closed his eyes.

He wasn't aware of how long he rested in the water, but it was long enough that Greta called out, "Eihr, your lips are blue! Swim this way." He went to swim and found it- difficult, from the cold.

He was shivering so badly it was hard to move as he wrapped up in a robe. The heat of the bonfire was much too intense, so together they headed up toward the tavern, Greta tucked against him for warmth.

It was the first time he had been to the tavern since the 25th.

"The tavern is where you were hurt, isn't it?" Greta said as they walked.

Eihr nodded, shivering.

"It was a- fight," she added. "A bad fight. Except," she said as if only just thinking it, "That your hands were tied." She held tight to his arm. "That was why your wrists were- like that, when you came to the bakery."

"Yes," he said. She was very quiet. "Will there be coffee in the tavern?" he asked.

He'd meant it seriously, but Greta laughed and whatever mood there had been was broken.

"You sure hate coffee," she said. "There will be wines and ciders and ales. And my baking! And you need to get out of the cold!"

Then they were in the tavern and Greta was surrounded, almost at once, by a group of excited young women. They giggled about the skinny dips in the pond.

Eihr pulled his arm from Greta's so she could participate in the festivities. He felt his way to the nearest place to sit. There was an empty chair by the fire and he settled into it, still dressed in a robe. His clothes were with Greta, or somewhere else. He hadn't thought about it.

The heat of the fire was not too intense now that he had gotten in out of the cold. The tavern smelled like woodsmoke and spices and food. There were many people in, and there was talk and laughter and someone singing a carol.

He thought of Hart dying here, somewhere beneath the floor, and understood that his death had been insignificant.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Thread Rewards

Overview

The descriptions of the setting, the everyday life in the tavern and their work with preparations for the events was full of life. The only event they did, the winter bathing, told a lot about all the PCs.

I enjoyed the contrast between them.

Soren’s calm style when he walks into the water submerges himself and walk up again speaks volumes about his cold and calculating mind. Victor Amielle jumps right into the water driven by pride and vanity. Jasper’s running leap looks like it’s about winning a contest. Navyri’s flying bathing style was spectacular and entertaining.

And Eihr went down in the deep end. It was painful and cold. Returning to the surface he thought of Hart and understood that his death had been significant. "Will there be coffee in the tavern?" This was a brilliant post, in the deep end.

An interesting thread. Abandoned, but still a very enjoyable read.

Soren

Rewards and consequences

Points: 15

Knowledge:

Knowledge:
Leadership x3
Business Management x3
Endurance x2

Renown: +5 for hosting an event

Skill Review: It's possible to read Soren's bath in two ways. One way would be to say that his effortless endurance of the cold water vs his Unskilled Endurance (0x, 2k) was a bit of skill overplay. The other way would be to say that endurance of ice-cold water isn't so hard. I guess you may have seen it the latter way. As I said in the overview, I felt that it matched Soren as a PC. So, I'm not going to point out a "right way to think" just giving the feedback.

Victor Amielle

Rewards and consequences

Points: 15

Knowledge:
Deception x3
Swimming x2
Endurance x3

Skill Review: Appropriate

Navyri

Rewards and consequences

Points: 15

Knowledge:
Flying x3
Endurance x2
Swimming x1

Skill Review: Appropriate

Eihr

Rewards and consequences

Points: 15

Other rewards: None requested

Skill Review: Appropriate

Jasper

Rewards and consequences

Points: 15

Skill knowledge:
Endurance x2

Skill Review: Appropriate to level

Samuel

Rewards and consequences

Points: Withholding this due to incomplete request. Please resubmit if you want the points!

Other rewards: None requested

Skill Review: No skills used reported

Please use the image code below to stamp your request !

Code: Select all

[align=center][img]/gallery/image/15360/medium[/img][/align]