Group 1 - Story Thread

His foot up on a rock, hunched over with elbows resting on his raised knee, Baltzhar looks like a boulder: thick muscular arms and broad shoulders, covered in thick leather armor and carrying a heavy knapsack. He snorts, then a coarse voice comes from the middle of his dark bushy beard "That is a great start!" he looks around trying to get his bearings "Sun still rises in the east and the air is frigid as a kiss from Viognu! So at least this is not some kind of Time Sorcery! Where the Gods are we?"

Hargrimm's frown deepens as the mists clear and they find themselves in the middle of nowhere beneath the infinite abyss of the sky. It was one thing to be out in the forest - at least there the canopy of trees could be a roof of sorts and if the wind blew too strong you could grab hold of a trunk to avoid being swept off the face of the earth. But there was no such cover here.

Lowering himself to one knee, he presses his open palm into the grass and sucked in some harsh, deep breaths. With his granite-grey robes covering his wide frame, he doesn't look much different than the boulder Baltzhar is stepping on. That lonesome boulder, no doubt scraped from its mountain home by some ancient, cruel glacier and unceremoniously dumped in the middle of nowhere eons past. Would this be his fate too?

No.

Rising to his feet, Hargrimm forces his mind from that perilous sequence and fixes his gaze to the horizon. He donned the iron crown of reason, dispelling the fear from his mind like a holy man expelling evil spirits (although, in truth, it turned out to be more like a barkeep kicking out the drunks at the end of the night).

From this mindset he noted the following was true: a powerful spell had just taken place. The minstrel half-elf was no doubt a being of considerable power and perhaps a source of knowledge. Powerful teachers are hard to come by, and although he doubted an Elvenspring had much to teach him about Stone Singing, knowledge was knowledge. He strokes his coal-gray bear, pondering for a moment about what kind of magic that could have been*.

Also true: a road isn't far away, and roads lead to civilized places. People with knowledge. Hearthfires and roofs. Books. With that thought, confidence seeps back into his veins. With a voice steady, he speaks out loud and with a stern tone:

"An unexpected turn of events. We should take to the road, or at least follow it. Bandits and worse may be about, I'll keep watch."

The winter had indeed been harsh. The remaining coin had only stretched so far, not unlike the stores of food in many villages. Surfacers struggled so much come winter, as their isolated communities faced the weather that came with a vengeance. Viognu often found herself missing the protected, stable winters of the caves of her youth. Sheltered, and unwavering. But with each good memory came another, one that reminded her that her self-imposed exile was right.

And so she journeyed on, village to village. If her companions had learned one thing about Viognu, it was that her temperment was definitively tied to the cargo in her cart. Given that it was currently empty save some personal food, she had not been the most pleasant dwarf to interact with.

But then everything changed. Literally, as well as figuratively. That half-elf had finally spoken of the type of job she had set out for, one that would make her rich beyond her wildest dreams. Well, maybe not that rich. And then came the laughter and mists. No longer did she see the settlements that had spurned her, no longer did she see the same roads that unerringly led to disappointment. No, now she saw only potential.

The rather comely dwarf sits on her cart, stroking her small but meticulously groomed (and oiled) beard. Not as thick as either Baltzhar or Hargrimm, she looks rather dainty considering her kin, though still far more stout than a human. Her worn clothes still show signs of their former glory, rich colors now faded into vivid memory; rings of lesser materials adorn her fingers, the same fingers that drum thoughtfully on the wood of the cart. Finally she smiles. Her teeth flash in the rising sun with the plating and false teeth, a smile of excitement.

"You'd be lucky for a kiss from me, Balt. Many a man have begged for one. And now I can find many a more! The road seems promising, so long as your keen eyes can protect us from danger, Grim! That Elvenspring lied about the where, but not the what! Treasure awaits us, boys."

Bailin stares at his surroundings with a look of mistrust. Moving up to stand by Viognu, Bailin voices his concerns. I don't like this...do you want me to scout ahead? We need to be careful until we get the lay of the land.

Hargrimm focuses his mind on his memories of patterns in the mist as it receded, thinking they may form signatures that will reveal the nature of the Elvenspring's magic. As he conjures up the images of the mist in his mind's eye, he can't help but remember his fear of the open sky. When dealing with magic, you should never have fear in your heart. The magic can sense it, and it will destroy you.

He curses his lack of caution as the memories of the pattern traps him in his own trepidation. He is forced to wrench his mind free of the thought, fortunately leaving himself with only a headache. It could have been much worse. He is determined to do better next time.

Viognu waves on Bailin somewhat dismissively. "Yes, yes, that's what I hired you for," Viognu says incorrectly. It has been a common theme, the dwarf thinking that she had put together this group as an expedition with her as the patron. The rest of the group may disagree.

Macenaeth joined the group along with his longtime friend Bailin. The half-elven healer, clothed only in simple brown hooded robes, is certainly not the one most geared for combat, working a more supportive role in the group.

Once the group agrees on heading towards the road, Mac nods and decides to ignore Viognu, who once again plays the role of the group's patron. There will be enough room for arguments later and with the dwarven stubborness, they could very well be debating this late into the night. Instead, the healer pats Bailin on the back.
"Be careful."

"Yes, we have many questions and the road may lead to some answers," Hargrimm says to the group.