RP:Good Ol' Fashioned Frostmawian Hospitality

Frostmaw Tavern

Eliason pushes open the door to the tavern and steps through. He quickly pushes it shut behind him so that he won’t freeze out the other occupants of the tavern. It is no secret that his human body is not really fit for the frozen city, but being here does elicit an odd fondness. Many things had happened to him in this place and though many had not turned out favorably, they were significant enough to have shaped the person that he now is. His intention was to get warm, perhaps have a warming ale or two then to find Hildegarde to make sure that the partnership with Chartsend remains intact. However, his eyes settle upon the Steward before he has even tasted his first cup. Making his way across the room to the dragon, he bows low and smiles. “Lady Hildegarde… I was going to come looking for you this evening and here I find you without even having to look.”

Hildegarde’s mouth is full of meat, given that she has just been caught tucking into a rather delightful yet large meal between duties. With some fervent chewing she readies herself to reply to Eliason, her sole eye resting upon him as she waves her hand in a dismissive manner. With a swallow and short breath, she finally speaks, “No need to bow to me, Eliason, you know me well enough by now to know it is not something I tend to enjoy,” she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her, “but sit, sit, have some food and drink, please. Frostmawian hospitality must live up to its reputation, mustn’t it?” she offered him a little smile. Frostmawian hospitality was a little bit of politics and good courtesy: one could always make an ambassador feel a little more at ease by offering them their fill of food. “But you said you were coming to look for me…?”

Eliason smiles apologetically and politely averts his gaze as Hilde finishes chewing. It wouldn’t do to make the woman uncomfortable, after all. “Of course, thank you.” He takes the proffered seat and leans back, relishing the warmth of the fire on his skin. After a few moments, Drargon brings over a plate of food and a warming ale eliciting a thanks from Eli. “Anyway, again, thank you for the hospitality. And yes, I was hoping to meet with you. I have recently returned from some extensive travels to resume my place in Chartsend. As part of that, I wanted to come see you to make sure that Chartsend and Frostmaw have remained friends in my absence.”

Hildegarde took a long sip of water from her glass as Eliason spoke, inquiring politely about the state of relations between Frostmaw and Chartsend. Gently placing the glass back down and relinquishing her grip upon it, the Silver spread her hands out in an open sort of gesture. “What has Chartsend done to make up for the insult it presented us?” she asked gently. It was not in Hildegarde’s nature to be cruel or unwilling to come to some kind of agreement, but she was not one to lie nor skirt about an issue. Particularly around someone she already knew and felt certain they would understand her without issue. “As you will recall, Alicia commanded that the men of Chartsend withdraw from Frostmaw in our time of need and left us to our fate. Of course, we triumphed, but it was not easy.” Anticipating an interruption, the Steward raised her hand ever so slightly as to suggest she had more to say, “You, Eliason, helped us with a small unit of your own. A small unit of men loyal to *you*. But that is something you did independently, presumably out of your good nature and honour. Alicia is the one who rules Chartsend, however. And she stuck by her command to withdraw from Frostmaw.”

Eliason listens carefully as Hilde speaks, chewing on his food thoughtfully. As she finishes, he takes a pull of his ale to wash down the meat he had been savoring. “There is truth to your words and we both know that what Alicia ordered showed poor judgment. I personally defied the orders as is contrary to my nature. Lady Alicia is many things, but a true leader of soldiers is not one of them, nor a diplomat.” He pauses for a moment, thinking through his words before speaking. “Truth be told, it is best that she not be involved in military matters. That is why, after much discussion, she has given full control of the military over to me and will not defy my commands in matters of war. I know that Chartsend and Frostmaw were strained due to her commands during the war, but we have both enjoyed the profits gained from open trading and the use of our seaports. I am willing to make recompense for the past transgression as you see fit and is within Chartsend’s power.” There is another pause as the big man leans forward and lowers his voice. “Honestly, I have little concern for the matters of state. I believe that they will work out in the end and I have no taste for politics. I offer my word for whatever that is worth that my army will always stand ready to aid Frostmaw. Personally, I just want to make sure that you and I can maintain the honor that we have established in the past.”

Hildegarde offered Eliason a gentle smile as he speaks of recompense and how Chartsend might allay the wounds inflicted upon Frostmaw’s esteemed honour and pride. “I mean no offense to your good Lady, but I do not view her as a suitable leader or ruler and I have never viewed her as such after I first met her,” the woman said bluntly but not cruelly. Her opinions were always blunt, but they were never intended to be cruel nor nasty without reason. Only what she saw as truth. “I often think you would do well as Chartsend’s leader, given your knack for… well, easy chat and willingness to compromise,” though he had a few faults, but who didn’t? “But that is not within my power nor what you are here to discuss,” she said, not wishing to speak more on that specific matter. “You know me well enough, Eliason, to know what my honour and perhaps my pride is like. You and your men did Frostmaw an honour by standing by us; by refusing the command of your Lady. Not something I recommend all the time,” she offered a broad smile, “but in times of need and in a situation such as yours… it was suitable. An army sworn to one man, though, is a dangerous thing…” she said briefly. “But I agree. Frostmaw enjoys the relationship and the availability of a port via Chartsend. Do what you will to repair relations, it is more the giants who hold it against you and your folk than I.” The Silver shifted in her seat before extending her hand out in Eliason’s direction, intending to make good on their words with the traditional warrior’s shake.

Eliason smiles and nods in return, reaching out to meet Hilde’s gesture, clasping hand to wrist as is the traditional warrior’s shake. “Good, I’m glad that we can agree on our own honour as soldiers.” There is another long pause as the man takes a few bites of food. He then meets Hilde’s one-eyed gaze once more. “There is another matter of which I would like to speak with you. As you said, an army answering to one man is a dangerous thing and so I have searched for ways that I can personally be held accountable for my actions.” He wipes his mouth with a cloth before continuing. “Word has it that you have revived the Warrior’s Guild. It seems to be that joining such a partnership would give me reason to be careful with my actions. Tell me, are you currently taking in members?”

Hildegarde offered Eliason a firm grip upon his wrist and a smile to match it. It was a gesture of importance in Frostmaw. A handshake was saved for the merchants, but this was a sacred gesture: a gesture of trust and faith in that person’s honour. The Silver leaned back in her seat as Eliason paused to eat some more of his meal, her attention quickly snapping back to the paladin as he once again spoke. “Word has it now, does it?” she said with a smile that was borderline bashful. Yes, she ruled in the stead of her Queen and had a near fearsome reputation in Frostmaw, but still she was so shy and reluctant to be heard of throughout the world. Still a humble woman, yet perhaps more confident than she once was. “But yes, I have revived the long inactive Guild and I am actively recruiting members to the Guild. It is a good way to learn how to fight, how to apply oneself, how to be… well, an ideal tactician. Most think they can wield a blade and call themselves a skilled warrior, but the mind is good a weapon as any. Perhaps one of the most ignored weapons in our community,” she said, speaking of the melee world in general. “Besides, it means I get to kick you around, keep you in place.”

Eliason laughs heartily, banging his fist on the table at her words. “Here, here!” He takes the last bite of his food and throws the cloth napkin atop the empty plate. His voice is lower as he speaks. “Like it or not, Milady, you are famous throughout the land and your skill as a tactician is widely known.” He traces the grain of the wood table idly before speaking again. “I have always been one to serve, though fate has seen fit to give me status over others. How might I seek entrance into this guild?”

Hildegarde shook her head to dispute such a claim, “Well, I like it not and I refuse to accept such a thing as fact!” she retorted with a broad smile that said she may or may not have been serious. Or at least, if she was not being serious, there was a hint of truth to her words. “To enter the guild, there is an admission fee of five hundred gold coins. It is steep, I know, but it allows you access to the Royal Academy of Aramoth here in Frostmaw which is host to renowned warriors and tacticians. The training ground adjacent to the academy can be adapted to any field of battle, so you can conveniently train in one place yet every place. Your fee covers bed and board, as well as supplies such as armour, weapons, tools to care for such. I think it is quite a good price for membership, to be frank. In addition to this, you must fight with the guildmaster… so they might assess your skill and know where to place you amongst the ranks.”

Eliason shakes his head at the unmeasurable modesty of the woman before him. At her words about entry into the guild, he waves a hand dismissively. “Five hundred gold seems acceptable for such an honor. And it will be good to test myself against someone with more skill than I. The fights I have been in of late have been too one-sided for my taste. Give me another Death Knight of Vakmatharas like the ones I fought during the war and I’d be happy. At least I would be challenged again. I’d rather die in battle than be bored with those that don’t know battle.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Listen to me, you’d think that I had grown arrogant during my travels. Please believe that I know how little I know about battle, I am just astonished at how many people know even less than I.” With that, the man loosens a pouch from his belt and hands it to Hilde. “You’ll find that there is sufficient gold to cover the entry fee.”

Hildegarde receives the weighty pouch, bouncing it briefly in her hand as if to test the weight and trust in Eliason rather than count it all out like a miser before him. “A good fight, oh… I wouldn’t say I am more skilled than you!” she said, laughing softly before suddenly flinging the heavy pouch at his face with unkind force. With the pouch flung at his face, the knight would flip the table up and at Eliason with the intent of either knocking him over with it and pinning him beneath its weight or sending him scuttling backwards just on time. Regardless of the outcome, the Silver would already be out of her chair and have her halberd at the ready; swinging in a wide arc to strike at his middle before swooping low only to swing in a final and brutal overheard arc – so brutal even the woman had to roar as she swung it – to bury the axehead of the polearm into the meat of the paladin.

Eliason : Apparently the Silver has high expectations of the paladin’s skill. Had he not met those expectations, her blows would likely have cleaved his skull. However, he does notice the slight tensing of her shoulders just before the gold is thrown. A diversion, of course, and one that he will not fall for. Turning his head, he takes the blow of the gold on his cheek, just as he plants his feet and pushes his chair backward. Lucky for him, he is not wearing his armor or he would not be agile enough to roll backward as the chair hits the ground. The table barely misses the man as he pushes himself quickly to his feet. His hand grasps the hilt of his sword and it is brought forth with a steely hiss as he simultaneously bends at the waist allowing the halberd to barely graze the flesh there. Blood seeps from the shallow cut and soaks the rent clothing. But he has no time to notice this as he is forced to leap over the halberd then catch the edge of the downward blow with his sword. The force from the meeting of the two blades nearly causes his sword to be ripped from his fingers, but it is enough to divert the blow to his side. A grin forms on his lips as he steps forward to minimize the effect of her weapon. He bring a knee up in an effort to connect with the Silver’s midsection, even as the butt of his sword as drawn upward toward Hilde’s chin. Whether either blow lands, the man then skips agilely out of the reach of the deadly halberd.

Hildegarde offered Eliason grin to match his own. This was their idea of fun, of sport. To fight one another with no restriction, to push one another and test their skills. “Either you’re getting slow or you’ve put on weight,” she said with a little nod to his bleeding midsection, as he diverts her halberd to the side. As Eliason steps forward and drives his knee against her midsection, the knight jerks forward ever so slightly but the pain and shock of the motion was minimal: her heavy plate armour saw to that! Yet with the butt of his sword rocketing towards her chin, the knight’s hand releases her halberd – her gauntleted hand still keeping a firm grip upon it – and shoots downward to grasp the blade of his sword and keep it from nearing her chin with her overwhelming saurian strength. With the hint of a snarl, the Silver locks her eye to Eliason’s and harshly expels a short blast of her paralytic breath before shoving him backward and releasing his sword from her grasp to send him tumbling.

Irthos blazes in through the open door like a meteor as a patron walks out only to duck as the Pixie sails by. He turns his trajectory to land in what he thought was water, but as he soon finds out he landed in a super strong drink which catches fire as soon as his small frame meets the surface. He jumps out as his soon as his recent burns remind him how much fire was bad, and soon runs around screaming for a moment until someone throws a snowball at him after watching him flail around a bit. The snow sizzles and puts out the fire, the scars pink from his blood running to them so he can cool off and disperse the heat. The stubble on his head smolders a bit. He leans up watches the on goings of the Tavern, until he realizes who was fighting, then he jumps up and starts pointing his fingers to prepare to shoot fireballs at the other who was combating his Clanmate. Then he rethinks his actions in case he makes an oops with defending Hildegarde.

Eliason laughs at Hilde’s taunting, though he feels the cut. He knows it is minor and his adrenaline is sufficient to dull any pain he might feel. He had nearly forgotten about the fact that the woman before him was a dragon, a fact which is revealed by her ability to catch his sword and stop its momentum. Though surprised anew by her strength, it reminds him of one thing… her breath. He is already turning his head and taking a deep breath to hold as her paralytic toxin is released. As it is, he merely catches a short whiff of the stuff before he is out of range of her weapon. Unfortunately he was forced to leave his sword in her grasp to escape. The small dose of paralytic toxin has some effect as he finds his limbs growing slightly heavier. “You know, I think you should use some cleaner on your teeth, the smell is making me a little woozy.” The man nears the bar where a set of Drargon’s knives lie. Taking a few of them in hand, the man flicks two expertly at the dragon, uttering a prayer at the last second that causes both to light up with holy fire then explode in dazzling white light.

Hildegarde keeps a hold of the sword, thrusting it upwards so she could catch it by the hilt and give it a testing twirl to better understand the balance and weight of the blade. Irthos and his fiery entry has been overlooked for now, she needs to focus on the fight. The paladin was good when he wanted to be, she knew that much. She had seen him in action, she had fought him before. “Oh, that’s rich of you, fat boy,” she taunted in reply. With the knives flicked in her direction, the knight flicks Eliason’s sword swiftly to deflect the first knife but the dazzling white light it exploded in has blinded her sole eye and the last flaming knife has struck true into her abdomen. Both of them have now bled and this is sufficient for the knight, who now raises her hand, “That’s enough, Eli, that’ll do. Come fetch your blade.”

Eliason suddenly finds himself not only avoiding Hilde’s attacks, but also a flaming ball of fire. He is fortunate that Hilde raises a hand and puts a stop to the battle, even as the flame is extinguished by snowball. Had his foe been anyone but the ever-honorable knight before him, he would not have trusted her word that the fight was over. But with it being her, he simply takes a cloth from atop the bar and presses it against the shallow cut on his stomach. A grin creases his face as he regards the woman. “First blood goes to you… Good show!”

Hildegarde laughed gently at Eliason’s remark, “Oh, a good show indeed,” she said in regards to the little audience of giants who had gathered within the tavern to watch the fight. Straightening her halberd into an upright position, the woman allows it to rest in the crook of her arm while she carefully and respectfully adjusts Eliason’s blade so the hilt and pommel of the weapon is proffered to him and not the blade itself. A respectful gesture. “I’ve got a knife in my gut and a new recruit. I’ve had worse fights,” she said with a grin.

Eliason steps forward and takes hold of the sword’s hilt. He grips it tightly and slips it back into its scabbard. He lifts a hand lie it easily on the Silver’s shoulder. “Drargon may want that knife back.” He comments easily, knowing that knife to the gut would not cause any permanent damage to the dragon. “I’m excited to find out more about the Guild!”

Hildegarde nodded at Eliason, retreating for a moment so she could gently scoop Irthos up from the snow. “You must tell people to stop throwing snowballs at you. They ought not to do such in the tavern as is,” she explained to the pixie softly as she gently set him up on a nearby table. That done, the knight jerked upon the knife and removed it from her abdomen with a grunt. “We’re having a tournament, actually,” she informed Eliason, “if you care to join?”

Eliason is quiet as Hilde helps the pixie. At her words, the man nods vigorously. "That actually sounds like fun."

Irthos shakes his head and shudders as the cold sets in his small frame. "Thank you for the help. I think like the fact that I catch fire and know how to do whatever to get a rise out of me or see my reactions. Can I help you with that wound, Hilde? I could sear it shut, or wash it out with my new water magic, since I can't cast Ice just yet." He nibbles at a pepper slice from his pouch to increase his body temperature slightly. The mini-mage flits up and at Eliason, "I'm sorry I lost my temper. I just saw Hilde being attacked and so I reacted instead of thinking before I did things."

Hildegarde shook her head at Irthos, not entirely comfortable with the idea of the wound being seared shut, “It’s fine, just rest,” she urged the pixie before turning her attention back to Eliason. “Well, you’re welcome to participate in the tournament. There’s no entry fee, and given that you are a member of the guild, you will never need to pay to join any of our future tournaments. Aren’t you fortunate?”