OPEN | Blood And Ice

[northcliffpass]

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

The story of why gets twisted and distorted between its departure from the Crags and its arrival in Northcliff Pass, but the town criers maintain consistency on a few points: Althea of House Jessamy, Duchess of Black Rock, has at last thrown down the gauntlet against the Duke of Cliffside, and has called on her vassals to rally their bannermen. It seems there will be war within the borders of Maireglenne for the first time in a hundred years.

Given the state of the roads leading through the pass, it is understandable that the news is a few weeks’ stale by the time armed soldiers sporting Duke Galein’s colours march (or gallop, if they are astride a horse) past the village walls and garrison themselves on the festival grounds. Anyone objecting to this new arrangement is encouraged by the soldiers to bring their objections to the garrison commander (who, rumor has it, personally oversees the flogging of objectors himself).

Like it or not, the regiment is here to stay, at least until they receive orders instructing them otherwise. On the bright side, the soldiers did the hard work of clearing the pass for the season; travel between Northcliff Pass and the city of Cliffside just got a heck of a lot easier this winter.

II. Cold Snap

And it’s highly likely that those orders will be as delayed as the news, for the regiment has hardly been within the city walls a week before the temperatures plunge to dangerous lows. This is not the seasonal frigidity accompanied by blustery blizzards that encourage snowball fights and a bit of ice fishing down by Sands Creek, but a cold so biting and bitter that any prolonged period spent outside in it runs the very real risk of hypothermia and death. This is the kind of cold that leaves the air clean and clear, with nothing to impede the watery white light of the sun for the few hours it spends above the horizon each day before setting again; it cuts the lungs when inhaled and bites straight through to the bone. Many of the village’s poor are brought within the sturdy walls of the Town Hall and the chapel, because the alternative is finding them frozen solid in the streets.

The silver lining to this development is bare indeed; avoiding the cold means that, for a time at least, the village residents and soldiers are too preoccupied hunkering down to endure the cold to be at cross purposes.

III. A Howl in the Night

On the third night of the deep freeze, an animal’s piercing howl shatters the oppressive silence that has settled over the village.

It’s not a wolf’s howl; it is far too shrill and keening, and comes from a great distance away, that much is clear. The few villagers brave enough to risk exposure to the cold will find nothing of immediate danger within the city walls--but should they lift their eyes and look to the gossamer clouds near the summit of Gods’ Reach, they will glimpse the dark silhouette of a massive winged beast circling the mountaintop in search of a safe place to roost.

Comments

I. time 4 rescue???

[sampler]

With all the Cliffside soldiers swarming town and the number of people who know his partner's fondness for cats growing day by day, Faro would have said the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself (apart from his clothes, that's good attention, ok). But it turns out, the actual last thing he wants, is for Colin to get robbed and beaten by said soldiers.

He can't walk by. Colin helped him, put himself at risk to do so. There isn't time for him to fetch a guard or Fiadh. Faro stands outside, out of view, and steels himself. Lifts his chin, sets his jaw, squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, then steps inside. "He'll sell you more bread is what."

It's not the best line, admittedly, but Farogil channels every bit of frustration and pride he can, as if these idiots just pretended they were better at embroidery than him and he's about to school them. The fancy gilded cloak hopefully adds more weight to his words than his slight stature does.

[keenly]

There is sudden silence among the soldiers for Faro's tone, his bearing, his fancy clothes. Colin's heart freezes in his chest and he begins shaking his head at Faro. He would rather give away loaves than see his friend hurt. The guards, for their part, are only silent for a moment before they all burst into laughter.

"Are you gonna rough up those soft hands on us?" asks Longnose with a grin.

"Please go," Colin begs Faro.

[sampler]

The laughing actually helps. It's hardly the first time he's been laughed at or teased about his softness. It's kinda comforting, really, and makes him realize: he has a script for this! It's not his script, but a script!

"No, of course not. I have people for that." Taking a step forward, he continues, "I'm Farogil Figrove, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop hassling our baker."

[keenly]

The laughter tapers off. The soldiers look at him uncertainly, as if trying to decide if he's for real and, if so, whether they should have heard that name before. Finally, Longnose gives a smile, a nod, and raises his hands.

"Our mistake, milord," he says, motioning for his mates to follow him to the door. "We didn't know the little bitch sucked important cock."

That gets one last titter from the soldiers before they're out the door. Colin follows them far enough to close the door behind them and lock it. That done, he sinks against it for support, trembling badly.

"I can't believe that worked," he gasps. "I can't believe you..."

Oh, and now he's sitting hard on the floor and hyperventilating. Fun.

[sampler]

He holds his expression and stands unmoving even as they head past him and out the door, exactly like his uncle did when he would similarly scowl away ruffians. Once the door's closed, however, he clutches at his chest in relief.

The relief is short lived as he realizes the weight of what he's done. Usually he's embarrassed by the power behind his name, and half the reason he's in Northcliff Pass is that he wants to distance himself from it. While he's not disowned, they probably wouldn't appreciate him pretending he's acting on their behalf. And if any of the soldiers he met back in Cliffside hear of it...

That could go bad. Real bad. The fear coming off him might not be very reassuring to Colin as Faro kneels beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder to try and reassure him, "Yyou're okay. We're okay."

[keenly]

Colin seals his lips shut, trying to breathe through his nose so he can control his breathing better. Gradually, it slows, his heart rate slows, and he's no longer in danger of passing out. He feels weak and exhausted, but he's okay.

"Thank you," he says.