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

OTA

[keenly]

I.

Voices can be heard through the door of the bakery.

"You do have to pay," comes Colin's patient but cautious tone.

"Oh?" There's laughter between several men.

Inside, it can be seen that there are about a half-dozen visiting soldiers clustered at Colin's table. The baker's gaze is turned away demurely as if he's just looking to get out of this unharmed. One of the soldiers, a man with a long nose, rests his elbows on the counter, crushing at least three perfectly-baked loaves under his forearms.

"Do we have to pay you? These things are half sawdust and you want money for 'em?" He picks up one of the loaves he ruined. "Look at this. This is rubbish. You expect me to pay for damaged bread?"

"I-I--" Colin stammers, and the solder flings the bread at his face, drawing laughter from the others. The baker backs away only to be crowded by another soldier, tall and broad.

"What are you gonna do," growls the large soldier, "if we just take what we're owed as fighting men, Spittle? What are you gonna do to stop us?"

"Just take it and go," Colin begs. The large man grips him by the jaw and forces him to look him in the eye.

"No, I want to know," says the long-nosed soldier. "What's your alternative to this generosity? What are you going to do when we come back tomorrow?"

II. Closed to Kit and Ben

There's a knock on the door the third night of the cold snap. On the other side is Colin, apparently wearing everything he owns and carrying blankets and a basket, looking rather like a rescue service with legs.

"Sorry," he begins. "I heard you still had room?"

IV. Wildcard

II

[ragweed]

It is Kit who answers the door, albeit only after a lengthy pause and some muted conversation from the other side of the door. For a brief moment when he cracks the door open, only one dark, assessing eye is visible. Then he seems to relax, flips the latch, and pulls the door open more fully.

"Room in front of the hearth, anyway," he says, then glances over his shoulder once as though to verify with Ben that yes, this is still the case.

[engravitas]

Ben is inside, seated at his workbench and detailing a chair's legs, and he looks up when Colin enters. Although there's no friendly smile or hello to greet the man, he does offer a nod of acknowledgment, clearly having given his blessing (or what amounts to such) for this person in particular to share their space.

A little fish stew goes a long way.

[keenly]

That is the least-unhappy look Ben has given him in greeting ever. Sort of amazing, really. He gives a smile and a wave as he shuffles in with his things.

"Sorry. The oven's not quite doing it anymore, cold as it is."

[ragweed]

Kit shuts the door behind Colin as soon as he's across the threshold, then crouches down to stuff a cloth along the gap between the door and the ground. He and Ben may own a house and a workshop, but it's hardly a fortress against the cold. They make do.

"Can't guarantee this'll be an improvement," he says as he straightens up, rolls his shoulders, then heads over to the hearth. "Coffee or tea?"

[engravitas]

Ben has given his greeting (such that it is), and seems content to listen silently as Kit does all the talking.
The detail he's putting on the chair legs is decidedly lovely: a carefully swirling vine pattern, each leaf and blossom meticulously etched.

[keenly]

"Tea, thank you," Colin says to Kit as he finds a spot to set down his things. He'd ordinarily refuse anything, but it's so cold. "Do you need any help with anything?"

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.