Wisp1

Tenebrae - Tuesday, February 02, 2016, 5:09 AM

---

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* W02: The Light Woods *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The path from the village eventually narrows somewhat, with the trees on either side becoming more populous. Moss hangs from large stones that sit surrounded by beds of leaves that has accumulated over the years.

A few trails wander in varied directions though eventually even these woods will thicken. One particular trail carries with it the scent of natural brimstone...this trail wanders north and westward, where the trees grow thick once more. To the east, it's rumored that the druids have built a sacred site.

The icy northwest wind howls, blowing snow about in savage gusts. The cold is intense. The sky is clear deep blue and the stars glitter, brilliant as diamonds.

Krom humms quietly to himself as he tramps though the snow, leather clad shoes breaking the path. Not that the proper path isn't clear, it's just got some snow on top at the moment. Pausing, the northman crouches a moment, peering at some tracks crossing the path, before continueing onward.

There's a sound in the trees at the edge of the path as Iadoth stalks her prey. It's not the northman, but as she spots him, she suspects he might be tracking the same quarry. She sighs a little, and lowers her bow. After a few moments, she steps out from the trees, and into view. She bows slightly from the waist.

Krom blinks, hesitating a moment, not entirely expecting to meet anyone, but returns the bow politely. "Krom greets you. Good hunting this day?"

The sil lowers her eyes and stands back a little from the track. "Good greetings, Master Dranei. We are of the hunting, but without not much victory." Iadoth's words are garbled, and her face is a mask of struggle, either as though she hasn't spoken the tongue for a while, or barely speaks Tradespeak at all. "I am of seeking large male /llwynog/."

"Mestnorr." The tall warrior corrects idly. "Krom does not know 'llwynog'. What does one look like?" The northman's own words are accented, recognizible enough as individuals, but put together in odd ways. This conversation may get interesting.

"Master... Mestnorr..." Iadoth looks as though she's trying to commit this to mind. "Llwynog, it is little animal, like dog, but tricky and greasy. It has fur like... nuts?" It is a struggle to get even this simple description across, and Iadoth seems distracted.

Krom blinks, frowning thoughtfully, unsure if this is some monster he's not seen before, or just a description he's not catching. He does catch the other confusion, and tries to clarify, touching a hand to his chest. "Krom. Just Krom. Llwynog... fluffy tail? Climb trees?"

Iadoth shakes her head. "Never am I of seeing a /llwynog/ ascend into tree-branch-tops. But tail like bush, like feathers, yes." She looks at the track, carefully.

Wandering over, Iadoth crouches slightly, and glares at the tracks. She looks up to Krom, but barely meets his eye. "/This/ is print of pawfoot of /llwynog/, Master."

Krom blinks, this Llwynog not what he had in mind. But, whatever it is, the warrior is sure he can handel it. Which is more young foolishness than actual prowess, but don't tell him that. Curious, he crouches to peer at the track. "Krom." he corrects absently.

Feeling herself in close proximity to the tall northman, Iadoth slips back slightly, feeling anxious, but curious also. "Name of /llwynog/ in Tradespeak, it is Krom?" Her mouth is twisted in confusion.

Krom makes a mental note, but doesn't comments, peering at the track a moment before having his lightbulb moment. "Korm is Krom." He thumps his chest again, then motions to the track. "Llwynog is fox. Clever and quick. Good fur, but not good meat." He glances over, and extends a hand, palm up, in a motion of greeting. "Krom gives greeting unto you. Krom would know your name."

Iadoth stands again, and moves her hand away from her belt. "I am Iadoth, of the Vast," she tells him, formally. She puts a little weight and gravity behind her own name, then: "I am of pleased for meeting you, /Krom/."--- and she gives the same import to his name too. "I am of hunting for to find furs; we keep some meat for..." Here she falters.

Krom nods, touching a hand to his brow in greeting, and starts to reply, when a sound from above distracts him. A chime, not unlike crystal bells, herals the arrival of a little wisp of snow, easily mistaken for just a common swirl of weather, if not for the way it moves against the wind, the small colletion of snowflakes shifting and turning, at times formless, but now and again taking a humanoid form, if only a few inches tall. It's voice is high and musical. "The Winter King speaks! Who hears his words?" <auran>

At the apparition of the thing, Iadoth takes a step back from it, and does two things: First, she grabs the lapel of her cloak, which seems to harden; and second, she reaches down to grab at her belt, which transforms its links into something resembling a shining shortsword.

Iadoth says "<something you don't understand in sildanyari>"

Krom makes a claming motion, peering at the small being, and bowing his head formally. Slowly, as not to give the wrong impression, he draws a kukri from his belt, holding the coldiron weapon before him, before rasing it to his brow, and making a small cut near the hairline. The wound bleeds freely, as head wounds tend to do, quickly soaking into the northmans hair. Soaking like a sponge into the single white lock, turning the hair a brilliant crimson, which starts to glow with a faint golden aura. "I am Krom, servant of the Winter King. I stand, and listen." <auran>

The sil steps back further, and lowers her shortsword slowly to her leg. "Master Mestnorr," she murmurs. "I am not of understandment of tongue in which you are of conversement with this. To us, what is of happen?"

Krom stands at formal attention, listening. He glances to Iadoth, and murmurs quietly. "Messenger, from King of Winter." The littel wisp's voice changes drastically, becoming deeper, resonate, like the creaking of an ancient oak tree. "The Snow Wyrm has come, and brought battle to the Valley. Though the woods still stand, guardians have fallen. Grak the Linnsbane. Throm of the One Eye. Jegan Snowhair. Other blood has spilled, but the guards still stand. To you, the Winter King gives word."

Iadoth is taken aback, and struggles to understand the unusual words of the the snow wisp. After a few moments, she looks at the thing carefully, but lowers her eyes again. "Good greetings, Messenger," she murmurs, slowly. "I am with guardian of wild woods, these. Is these places, of great threat?"

Krom sighs slowly, and nods, taking a moment to sort his thoughts before turning his attention to Iadoth. "Snow Wyrm like dragon. Old, old as sky. Is great threat. But guardians stand, turn back wyrm. Threat is past. Krom travel far, learn much, become great guardian. Winter King is kind, tell Krom of Valley, when Krom is far from home. Krom is grateful."

The little wisp, for it's part, flits around in the air, it's message delivered.

Iadoth looks at the wisp, quizzically, and nods absently, understanding a little of what the great northman is telling her. "I am of understanding, Master Mestnorr," she says. She is enthralled by the little elemental.

Krom watches with idle intrest himself, but a casual sort of way clear that he's seen such things before. Double cheking his blade, the warrior returns it to his belt. Whatever ritual magics linger, his minor wound is gone, though the crimson lock remains, a clear sign of his pact. "Krom offer appolgy, burden not ment for you. Were speaking of furs?"

The girl has lost some of her shyness, and she stares intently at the floating ice wisp. "Furs..." she says, more absently than before. "I hunt creatures here, get furs and sell in large city---" she gestures vaguely in the direction of Alexandria. "Rabbit, hare, /fox/, /mochyn daear/..."

Krom nods, not familiar with all the names, but understanding in general. "Krom fight. Protect. Merhant with gold, fear woods. Krom walk with merchant, merchant have less fear. Sometimes Krom hunt, but Krom walk in woods, not of woods."

The little wisp darts around, chiming quietly to itself. It flits down to Iadoth, perhaps curious as well, though with no proper features, it's hard to tell.

Iadoth flinches a little, unsure of what this creature is. As it touches her cheek, she feels a pinch of cold, although it is not unpleasant. The air around her feels a little chiller, and from within her cloak, there is a little whine, as if of a small animal.

Krom watches quietly. "Little one is simple. All feel, no true think. Loyal, quick, but not clever. Will not harm."

Iadoth checks underneath her cloak at the whining thing, then fishes it out by the scruff of the neck: A tiny wolf cub, barely two weeks old. It whimpers in the cold air. She transfers the thing to the crook of her arm, then holds out a hand expectantly, wondering if the elemental will land in her palm.

Krom blinks, but smiles, peering at the cub. "You have little friend as well. Mmmmm, is not good time for little ones born. Too early. Too cold."

The small fey flits around the open hand for a moment, but darts away, perhaps untrusting, or maybe just losing intrest.

Iadoth looks away from the elemental, feeling more at home with the animal than those of her ancestry. "It is Gelert, of the Felwood. With accidentals, his mother was killed by my hands. I have of vows for his protector. For now, keep him warmed, provide milk, find meat. So, hunt, like Master Mestnorr."

Krom nods. "To protect is good. Warm and fed, also good. Krom think little Gelert soon be big and strong, help with hunt." He glances towards the wisp, which seems to have found an old nest of some kind. Or perhaps it's disapepared into the wilds again, it's a little hard to tell at a distance.

Iadoth nods. "His eyes are of open, now, and too he is hearing. Soon he may be of age to walking, and running. Then, also, we hunt togethering." She looks around for the wisp, her sil eyes spotting it examining an abandoned crow's nest. "Nothing there for ice-thing," she says. "Crowlings gone, back when snow drains."

Krom laughs quietly. "Maybe. For little ones is much treaure to find. Shining feather, twist of grass, clear drop of rain. All glitter better than gold, more precious as do not last."

Iadoth's face changes, looking as though she's thinking deeply. After a moment, she removes a little brass pin from her hair, and the two plaits fall down from their neatly coiled bun into lengths along her back. She holds it out, wondering if the creature will be interested in the bait.

Krom watches as well, looking over the hair change a moment before turning focus to the fey. Who it seems, has no intrest in pins, instead slowly drifting downward along the tree. Perhaps tracking a squirrel that went by earlier, or the mark of a burrowing beetle. Or maybe just a trail of particularly interesting brown spots.

The sil replaces the pin in her hair, but does not attend to the coiffure. Instead she watches the fey wander along the tree trunk. "It beautifies, but it has lack of focus," she says, not looking at Krom. "Like many in large city, sincerely. Out here in wilds, I-we-you must have focus, or danger comes to us."

Krom nods. "Some danger is, as it was made. Does not mean harm, just is. Sharp branch, steep cliff. Other danger hunts, seeks to harm. Krom hunts back. Little one, maybe no focus. Maybe all focus. One thing. One thought. One feel. But think with all of self, feel with all of self that one thing."

Iadoth nods slowly, staring at the intent little being. "Pretty." She says, finally, then returns her attention to the wolf cub. With a well-practised motion, she returns the pup to its place under the cloak, with a little fur-lined sling. "Many merchants, then, pass through lightwood, Master Mestnorr?"

Krom shrugs. "How many are many? Some. Enough. Krom's belly is full, bed is warm. Guild give adventure, teach new things. Krom still learns. Still grows stronger."

Iadoth nods her head in agreement. "We are all of learning, Master Mestnorr. You, I, wolf pup, learning all the days of Ea." She looks along the fox track, heading away through the trees. "This fox may be swift, cunning. We could follow, track together if you will. Pass time of day, maybe-perhaps."

Krom considers for a moment, but shakes his head. "News of Mestnorr came swift, but go back slow. Best Krom send letter now, maybe arrive when trees turn to green."

The sil raises her eyes to look at him, and if he's looking, he'll see the green in Iadoth's irises, and the warmth in her ardent stare. Perhaps he'd notice, even, that this is the first time she's tried to meet his eye. "I will seek," she says. "Wolf-pup may soon be of hunger state, perhaps, and does not keep in waiting with patience. Whining pup is to make follow creatures with difficulty." She tucks her cloak about her more closely, fastening a horse-shaped brooch carefully. "Well met, Master Mestnorr. I hope on road, track, woodpaths that soon we are of meeting, once more."

Krom nods, and bows formally, if briefly. "Until our paths become one again."

Iadoth nods too, and heads off into the trees. Within a few moments, the ranger is no longer visible.

Iadoth goes North to Mictlan <NM>.