Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:
He kisses his wife again before readying to leave for the Pub where he'd agreed to meet with his comrades, and hopes that they will find no bodies frozen in the river this morning.
THE PUBLIC HOUSE
Dorgio enters to find the main room all but deserted: a few people in coats or shawls huddled near the hearth fire, and the bar standing unattended.
Vlad breaks off from the gathering near the fireplace and walks over to the priest. The Barovian hunter inclines his head towards Dorgio.
"I have come here and waited. Couldn't sleep. This winter is getting to be like one back home in the mountains. Dead cold this morning."
He scratches his three-day growth of beard and looks at the entrance.
"Where is Benn? Too early?"
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
tarlyn wrote:
He stands and stretches. "Please forgive me if I have disturbed you or your comrades reverie." The Falkovnian follows the elf out of the barn so as not to disturb the other elves. He stretches some more and begins doing some light exercises to warm up. As he exercises he attempts more conversation "Is there something I might help with for the morning meal for everyone?"
OUTSIDE THE BARN
Outside, Franz finds the landscape covered in snow and ice at least a foot deep, except in thin spots under the leafless trees.
The elf says,
"Galandel's wife does not need help with her cookery. But I could use a companion while checking my fish traps. The flooding might have destroyed them, or perhaps it has filled them with something we can eat. It may be wise to bring Galandel, as well. He says a monster of some sort attacked him, the other day..."
"Yes, I will come help you. I am Franz by the way, and that is my friend Munchen there. I will go get Galandel. We can tell you about this monster when I return with him."
"That is well. I will wait."
The elf stands near the barn entrance, wrapped snug in his blanket, looking out into the snowy woodlot.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Bennedict rises reluctantly, reaching for a dressing robe and pulling the blankets up around Charlotte and Jonas.
He looks out the window with some concern, staring at the icicles more than he is paying attention to the bells. He looks to the corner where Charlotte and Jonas' suitcases are packed.
He leans down and kisses his wife on the had. "I'm going to go check on your carriage," he says, tying his robe shut and heading downstairs. Bennedict remembers all too well the times his family was used against him by fiends in the past, and Charlotte and Bennedict had long ago worked out an agreement for these situations. Charlotte had family in Mordent. They would leave this morning and go visit them until the situation with "Jenny" was resolved.
Stepping down into the living room he looks around for any sign of his serving man.
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
Franz finds Galandel in the back of the barn in an empty stall. He is kneeling next a black wolf in the corner of the stall, the wolf is eating and playing with its morning meal; a small rabbit. Galandel is tending to large wound on the wolf's side. He gently pulls the bandages off, balling them up he places them next his feet. He then begins to apply a set of new bandages, "Franz, did you sleep well last night?" He says as Franz approaches from behind. Galandel continues to apply the new, clean bandage.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
Benn finds Hornsby in the parlor, warming his hands over a brazier of coals.
The serving-man looks up as Benn enters the room.
"Good morning, sir. I regret to inform you that the carriage seems to have been delayed. Likely on account of the bad weather...though we haven't had word."
He gestures towards the frost covered window facing the street.
"The snow reached the door stoop, before I swept it clear."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
alhoon wrote:Grabbing the bucket, Raen rushes out in the cold air. He looks around for the source of the fire or someone to ask about it while he fills the bucket.
Raen sees the column of volunteers jogging down the street towards the east, where the icicles and snow glow red and pink. One of the big tenement houses burns, a block down the street and on the same side as Kat’s. Smoke and flames belch from its broken windows and open doors.
A stiff breeze picks up, blowing a mix of snow, smoke, and wood ash from east to west, right in the faces of Raen and the others in the street.
Someone ahead of Raen, concealed in the wind-blown haze, cries out-
“The fire is crossing the roofs!”
Raen takes up a spot down the street, closer to the fire.
While the others hurl snow and slush onto the flames at the lower part of the building, Raen uses his magic to send snowballs rolling and skipping over the smoky rooftops, dousing patches of flame that threaten to spread to the building on the leeward side, where the roofs almost touch over a narrow alley.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Franz finds Galandel in the back of the barn in an empty stall. He is kneeling next a black wolf in the corner of the stall, the wolf is eating and playing with its morning meal; a small rabbit. Galandel is tending to large wound on the wolf's side. He gently pulls the bandages off, balling them up he places them next his feet. He then begins to apply a set of new bandages, "Franz, did you sleep well last night?" He says as Franz approaches from behind. Galandel continues to apply the new, clean bandage.
"Yes I did. Munchen and I kept each other warm under the blankets. Most of your friends are in reverie in the barn. Except one who is checking the fish traps and asking for you to come help. Is your wolf friend going to be okay?"
Bennedict picks up the cup of tea steaming on the table, giving a nod of acknowledgement for Hornsby's efforts. "Probably the frost," he says. He takes another sip and nods towards the door. "Fire alarm?" he asks.
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
Adam wrote:Bennedict picks up the cup of tea steaming on the table, giving a nod of acknowledgement for Hornsby's efforts. "Probably the frost," he says. He takes another sip and nods towards the door. "Fire alarm?" he asks.
"Yes, I believe so, sir. But the streets outside are nearly empty and the only smoke I could see was a good way off, towards the western part of town, though definitely not so far as the cattle markets. "
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
VAN wrote:Sara takes a handkerchief and covering her mouth and nose heads outside and joins the firefighters that stand near Raen.
A burly man shoves a bucket of slush in Sara's hands.
"Throw and fill!"
The man tosses a second bucket's contents at the base of a burning door.
A scream sounds above Sara and the other firefighters, coming from the upper floor of the burning building.
A body hurtles out a second story window in a gout of fire and smoke.
The woman in the smoldering dress hits the ground hard, her legs buckling under the impact.
She shrieks, falls backward, and rolls helpless on the wet pavement , screaming.
Flaming debris falls from the window and the façade above her, landing in the slush about her with thuds and hisses.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Franz finds Galandel in the back of the barn in an empty stall. He is kneeling next a black wolf in the corner of the stall, the wolf is eating and playing with its morning meal; a small rabbit. Galandel is tending to large wound on the wolf's side. He gently pulls the bandages off, balling them up he places them next his feet. He then begins to apply a set of new bandages, "Franz, did you sleep well last night?" He says as Franz approaches from behind. Galandel continues to apply the new, clean bandage.
"Yes I did. Munchen and I kept each other warm under the blankets. Most of your friends are in reverie in the barn. Except one who is checking the fish traps and asking for you to come help. Is your wolf friend going to be okay?"
"Good." He says as he finishes applying the clean bandage.
Grabbing the old dirty one, he stands up and moves towards Franz. "He will survive. A few days rest with proper tending and he will be ready to hunt again soon." Galandel says.
"Come let us tend to the fish traps before we eat our morning meal."
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
Upstairs in the bedroom, Benn finds Charlotte sitting on the bed bent forward at her side table, washing her face in a basin. She sits up and rubs a towel over across her forehead and cheeks.
"Benn, do we have time to take breakfast together as a family, before the carriage comes?"
Jonas stirs under the covers behind Charlotte.
THE BARONET'S ESTATE
Galandel, Urien (the elf fisher) and Franz hike through the frosted woodlot, downhill towards the river with Munchen running ahead.
The bulldog stops now and then, sniffing at the bases of tree trunks, poking his snout into drifts of snow.
Urien points out a game trail, all but hidden in the snow.
"That way."
A little further on and the trees give way to stands of dead, frozen reeds like upright icicles. The solid earth drops and dissolves into glazed mud puddles. Wading through the frozen bog, the party sees the broad green line of the Musarde cutting across the land ahead , shelves of ice sticking out twenty feet or more into the wide water.
Urien points out a frozen slough on the near side of a submerged but still visible sandbar.
"The river has flooded over the barrier, but my traps might still be down there, under the ice."
He steps closer and leans forward, gazing into the iced over pond.
"Yes, I see one of the frames."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
