RP:Journey to the Center of Frostmaw

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Location: The heart of Frostmaw City.

Summary: Continuing on their investigation, Leoxander, Lita and Loravelle approach the giant sinkhole created by the arrival of the primal to ravage the frozen town and its residents. With the unstable terrain still crumbling and widening the gaping sinkhole, they head west with intentions of getting away from the epicenter. Something goes terribly wrong when Gorehilt finds them and an impulsive move to help a friend leads to a wild chase.

[ Part 2/5 ]

The center of Frostmaw

Leo drew his hood over his head and secured that black fabric over the lower half of his features as his gaze shifted between the two, and in the end he could only nod. Even the man who had been a lone wolf a good percentage of his life could appreciate not going to investigate something like this alone, and for all his desire to keep Loravelle happy, he wasn’t going to let her remain completely oblivious to these sorts of hiccups in peace and stability, since that was a part of her world, now. That may have not been the first time he’d been called by that title, but from Lita, he didn’t feel discouraged by it. “Bundle up, babe.” Likely talking to Suoxin, since he knew the vampire’s tolerance for winter weather. A glance toward Drargon, who surprisingly gave the rogue a subtle nod, and he headed for the door to step outside and hold it open until they were facing the wind swept snowy weather once again. Once they were, he lead the way toward the heart of the city, where structures and streets appeared more heavily cracked and broken the closer they got to the source. It wasn’t the gaping toothy maw Lora’ had envisioned it to be, but it was no less daunting. As if something had blasted up through the ground before engaging in a battle with many who had returned it to the earth - which was exactly what had happened. Slowing to a stop before they got too close to the scene of action, he scanned their surroundings with nocturnal eyes. It was difficult to tell what was day and night in those northern mountains, the sky ever a stormy gray.

Loravelle didn't need to be told twice to bundle up. If she could toss on more layers than what she already wrapped herself up in, she absolutely would without a care in the world for looking utterly ridiculous. She checks that her ears are covered by the layers of headscarves she fashioned into a hood of sorts over her head, then tugged the fur-lined hood of the jacket she wore over the rest of her clothes over her head too. She should have brought something similar to that bit of fabric Leo used to covered his face, but she tugs a loose corner of one of her headscarves up over her mouth and nose in a similar, albeit flimsier fashion. It'll work for now. Once outside in the cold, she alternates between peeking over her shoulder to keep an eye out for Lita if she happened to be behind her, or just to watch their backs in case something leapt out that she could alert the vampire and wolf about, and taking in the destruction along the path ahead. Her vision is poorer than the others, especially with her eyes squinted against cold winds and snowfall, but Lora could swear she could see bodies half-buried in the snow if she squints hard enough, mixed in with the debris. As Leo slows to a stop ahead of her, she does the same, though a few steps back just in case. Remarking that it looked bad would be an understatement, so instead she mutters a swear at just how terrible their surroundings looked.

Lita follows the duo from the tavern, mostly lost in thought as they pick through snow and rubble towards the center of town. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her overcoat as they walk and she tries to piece together her memories of the place and what it had looked like before it was ravaged into this. Whatever this was that was left. She stops when the others do but she's glancing off into the distance a bit, brows knit. It takes her a moment to realize that they're not far from where she'd sprinkled the bulk of the ashes of her late hound, and it tugs at her heartstrings. Had it really been so long since she'd been back here? She should have done better about that probably. At least Svard had been able to make that dagger with the rest of them, so she could carry them with her. She pushed the thoughts from her mind as far as she can as she looks back towards the pair of friends. "You lookin' to help out with this mess?" She wouldn't be opposed to it, entirely. Maybe.

Leo stood in silence overlooking the scene and keeping watch for any creatures or threat that might break out of the woodworks, or rather, the broken stones and foundation. His expression was masked behind that dark fabric but his eyes betrayed that stern, serious look. “Not much reason to…” The apartment was in fact lost. Leo could tell from where he stood and where he’d stood before looking for light in a distant window in the past. Even he had to take a deep breath for the memories forged there, the start of the good things he somehow had now. “Haven’t heard a whisper of sighting of the Silver. The knight’s retired from his position. I guess Kasyr had a hand in this.” Probably more than a hand. “But the last time I spoke with him…” Well, Leo couldn’t recall more than a word or general greeting in several turns of full seasons. Not like it was a decade ago; things changed and like it or not, he was coming to the realization that he had to follow the wave or get left in the riptide. The quiet atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a deafening crack as more of the street split and boulders, rocks and dust piled into the mouth of that gaping hole, his instinctive reaction drawing Lita back with an arm and a few paces that might send the Mouse at a short distance behind them back as well. The word that escaped him was an unpleasant but common one as he shook his head. “It’s gone, Suoxin.” It was probably the first time he’d ever spoken her name in anyone else’s presence, predator lit eyes shining in the limited torchlight as he looked back toward her.

Loravelle felt guilty for making light of the situation with her jokes about snowball fights back at the tavern. These were people's homes, toppled to nothing. While her first visit here was nightmarish, she still held some sentimental feelings for Frostmaw. She was freed here, she met Leo here. Hell, she briefly lived here – but before she can squint and try to scan what buildings, if any, were still standing in the distance for that old apartment building, that horrible sounding crack has her practically leaping backward, arms instinctively reaching outward in case the rogue pushing Lita back caused her to stumble so she could help keep her balanced, just like the vampire did for her back at the tavern. Now she wants to turn and head south, but it stays fixed forward, blinking with surprise at the use of her actual name and not the one forced on her when she was shipped to Lithrydel. Her heart sinks. It's all gone. Even if it was a dusty, cold, not necessarily structurally sound building, it was once home. At a loss for words, she keeps quiet as her eyes meet his with a frown. In case there's another crack and more of the ground fractured, she's keen on turning back. “W-we should go...” It might be cowardly, but she didn't want to see Lita or Leo hurt.

Lita is a little distracted when the sound of the ground shifting makes itself known and she's grateful for Leo and Lora as she half stumbles a few steps backwards. Stupid shoes. She'd have had better balance barefoot. Or so she'll blame it on the boots. She's not privy to the history Lora and Leo have of the place but it feels important, and a bit like she's intruding on it. But that also gives her a bit of an idea, which she tucks away for later. She loops an arm around Lora's waist in a brief hug. "Little Mouse, when's your birthday?" She uses the affectionate nickname Mahri had given her, probably on purpose here. She's not so subtle about changing conversation subjects though.

Leo heard Lita’s attempt to change the subject or distract Lora’, and he was grateful for it, but he took a few extra moments to study the ground surrounding the center target where the primal had appeared. On the foundation of mountains layered in ice, he didn’t think the city would last long without something stronger than the warrior’s courage to defeat the creature. Not that it was his place to say. Rogues were known for their ability to stay out of sight, out of mind, and not worry too much about others without cause. And he would have entirely preferred that route, only there was this small part buried deep inside him that might regret seeing Frostmaw devoured into nothing, particularly when imagining his own island in the same dilemma. People had come through for him when it came to defending those shores as Lita well remembered. At least now he had an idea of what the people of those frozen lands were dealing with. At this pace, there would be no Tournament of Winter, next year. “Yeah…” His delayed agreement with Loravelle’s words as he turned toward the two. He directed them with a motion back in the direction of the tavern and the front gate. “Now I ain’t sure I wanna see what Xalious is dealin’ with…”

Heading west out of the City

Loravelle is quick to hug Lita back, mostly to help her keep her balance if she needed it but also to hide the saddened look on her face for even a few seconds. Her birthday? She's confused by the question initially; Nobody has ever asked before. What day is it currently? “Right around the time Autumn starts...About three months from now.” She's grown fond of the name Mouse. It suited her more than she'd ever want to admit. “What about yours?” If Lita's intention is to distract her, it's absolutely working. She can grieve over that lost building later. Preferably somewhere warm and not blanketed in snow or city wreckage. Eager to head south and as far away from Frostmaw as the trio could reach, she feels like she could practically sprint away now. Obviously she can't, and she won't try. The last thing Leo or Lita needed to worry about was a clumsy Mouse tripping in snow and injuring herself. She'll stick behind both of them, whether their destination was back to the tavern or out of Frostmaw entirely. Why is everything on the mainland so disastrous? “Does Rynvale have anything like this that we have to worry about?” She wonders aloud, teeth chattering again from the cold. She knew about the dragons, but as far as she knew they couldn't put city-flattening craters in the earth.

Lita tilts her head at Lora's question. "Ah, don't really do the birthday thing. Hanan gave me a cupcake once. And then said something smarmy and got it shoved up her nose. Chocolate, I think. Or strawberry." As if the flavor mattered much. "I like muffins better. Banana." Three months 'til Lora's birthday though? That might be enough time to bring her idea to life. She'd need to pick an illusionist's brain about some magic, maybe. Lora's later question about Rynvale's history is an entirely different matter. She flickers a glance to Leo. She doesn't want to scare the girl but doesn't want to lie to her either. "Not right now." She says a bit cautiously. "Anything's possible these days, but we'll face what comes. Together." That sounded less cheesy in her head.

Leoxander wasn’t going to let Loravelle just march behind them. He kept pausing until she was at their sides, between them, if Lita paused, too. Although his ability for casual conversation was difficult to achieve, he guided them on the same path through the snow they had made, not quite covered up by the flakes falling just yet. “She likes peanut butter.” He chimed in as he kept his head on a swivel, eyes catching city lights gleaming now and again. Lita’s answer to the more serious question was about the same as he would have answered with a: ‘Not yet’. Both a little cryptic. But he was taking the measures needed to find out in order to defend that island again if the time came for it. The owner of Soulskin knew as well as he did they didn’t possess the army they had in the past, but where there was a will, there was a way. And the gears in the rogues mind were turning. He looked toward Lita. “We can’t rely on those blaggards in town to be prepared for somethin’ like this. They haven’t touched the port since the war…” Maybe she would get where his mind was going, maybe she wouldn’t. But Leo had resided with his neighbor and friend long enough to know that if something had to be done, they would have to do it themselves.

Loravelle wonders if the not doing birthdays thing was part of being a rogue, or maybe vampires and lycans just forgot birthdays after a while? She wants to ask, but now she's thinking about cupcakes and muffins. “One of my sisters makes raspberry muffins.” She tried mailing some to Alvina and her children and they must have survived the trip, even if they likely ended up a little squished. “I do like peanut butter!” She adds, a little too enthused given their setting, but it's a great distraction while she hurried along to keep up with both of them. Not right now? That answer wasn't exactly promising, but she'll take it for now. What other choice did she have? She quietly listens to the exchange between the pair, uncertain with what she could actually contribute to be of use. Especially if something this catastrophic did happen in Rynvale. Her thoughts cycle back a bit during the time when Leo showed her around the island, but further north, just before they found the pups. “C-couldn't you get help from the ogres?” She suggested. “If something went wrong...They're pretty frightening.” Lora still had that idea in mind to help Leo if he ever intended to visit them in Gamorg too, if that time ever came. And there was her father, since the word 'war' was used. “Father was a healer during wars at home...” Perhaps he could be helpful, directly or indirectly by passing knowledge down to her.

Lita shrugs a bit at Leo's disdain, at least she thinks it sounds a bit like that. She kind of understood it though. There was such a fear and hopelessness that came after the island's destruction. And she'd been human then. Hanan had been the one running around going nuts, losin' her mind because Lita kept trying to help but was also squishy and fragile and killable and impulsively reckless. But that was just the way you thought when you had loved ones who were vampires and lycans and didn't think twice about throwing themselves at danger. And this is probably why she adores Lora so much. Even if she wasn't Leo's girl. Lita had been a Cap'n's Girl once, herself. And the line of comparison she draws suddenly makes her roll her eyes. Not that either of the others are privy to her thoughts but she reaches over and aims a punch square at the pirate's shoulder, without a word. Keeps walking like nothing's happened out of the ordinary. "City proper's got more a loose association with the ogres. And it's not always such a friendly one." She says at Lora's suggestion. "Something like this happened down south, they'd be more likely to run than stand and fight." She glances sideways at Leo again. "This why you're angling to make friends with Cenril again?"

Leo was thinking about his one and only birthday celebration earlier in the year, and if Rogue’s weren’t participating in that, he’d probably be a little sad, too. He’s not upset off balance more than a wayward step to the side despite the strength in the vampire’s punch and his own weariness after their journey to the mainland and their hike up the mountain, listening to Loravelle’s words even as he gets back on the straight path. Lita’s response cues his response. “Well maybe the city shouldn’t be so damn proper, anymore. What the hell do those elves do when somethin’ treads on our grounds? Wasn’t till after all was said and done that they started sendin’ patrols.” His grumble given before that question from the vampire caused him to turn his head to look her way as he took Loravelle’s hand for the potential craters and cracks in the road ahead. “I may not see eye to eye with the Red Witch but I do relate to bein’ bloody burned to death. An’ havin’ those waterways clear with them in some regard will make it easier to stop any plagues or primals that decide to tear through that hive of a city and move on. Mouse ain’t completely off track when it comes to the ogres - we need to keep them happy to keep them from skinnin’ the forest dry of fur and feathers, anyhow. Elimdor… I ain’t so sure of. Smelled somethin’ off on our last visit near an’ I feel like with Lora translatin’, I’d take my chances with an ogre over one of those forsaken long-ears any day.”

Loravelle must look so clueless now given how little she actually knew about Rynvale's history, and that made her want to learn more to have some context. She's confused already, but that confusion deepens at the sudden punch Lita throws at Leo. Keeping quiet and keeping her ears opened seemed like the best option here to learn some things, so she does just that, holding tight to Leo's hand while shooting glances at both of them. Was that a casual, friendly sort of punch? This is normal for them, isn't it. Must be a vampire and werewolf thing. She almost wants to rub at her shoulder because that punch Lita threw looked like it would really, really hurt if she were on the receiving end of it. “I'm fluent,” she volunteers, when it comes to speaking the ogre's tongue. Her grasp for tongues was one of those few things she took great pride in, and any opportunity to use the skill was something she wanted to try taking. “I befriended orcs.” Mostly because Gualon's crawling with them so it's easier to find an in with their swamp tribes. “...Maybe I could do the same with ogres?” Her initial plan was to use religion to forge some bond, and she still thought it might work. Faith could move mountains, so they say. “He Who Hungers can help.”

Lita holds a hand up at Leo. Hadn't meant to ruffle feathers- at least in bringing up the island's status quo. She'd only recently ventured into Elimdor society more herself, in meeting some of Xiem's children and clients. She hadn't had a bad time exactly, but it definitely wasn't her scene. At least they hadn't judged her for being barefoot, though she'd felt sorely underdressed the entire trip. "Don't think you're wrong. Just saying, I think they've a fairly same perspective on the matter from where they sit. Though don't claim the slums and the port harbor much more than we claim what's past it. But we can't exactly split the island in half so we're gonna have to find some sort of common ground if you wanna play nice. Maybe Lora can make a few... thousand or so cupcakes or what not? Smooth things over or at least open some sort of communication moving forward?" She was used to playing neutral politics. "If something like this does hit the water, even the ogres and the Red Witch might not be enough allies." She might apologize for the punch later, or at least buy Leo a drink. Lora's offer to translate is endearing. "Might not be a bad idea to spend some time sitting down with some more affluent members in leadership roles." She had no idea how the hierarchy of ogre society worked. "Especially now, if you're looking to fortify. And I know they're not your favorite but Xiem's got people in Elimdor, they're not all bad. I can poke around some if you want."

Krice had gone south and east out of the tavern, to check other things that didn’t often cross his mind–but for the fact that damage was everywhere. It made sense that the trio from the tavern would have ventured this way without encountering him until now. He had taken a higher course across the landscape, following jagged, snow-covered rock that had been pushed up by the earthquake. As such, the terrain ahead descended with his ascension and revealed to him the trio up ahead. Winds were at his back, blowing westward, so their scent had been blown away from him. From this vantage point, a few meters up, he could watch their behaviour and also better see the sinkhole as left by Xicotl’s destruction. It was larger than the last time he viewed it and this obviously was a point of concern. Paused at the edge of his elevated place, the enigma looked away from the group to scan the rest of their surroundings.

Leo did in fact nod some agreement to Lita’s reasonable statement. “Yeah… I know. But before we get into all that, I’d rather have some say on what happens south side…” There he was, drifting off in some thought again as he crunched through the thick snow, even if they were walking on what once was a street. It was hard to tell even with his nocturnal vision. “Never thought we’d be gatherin’ an army again this soon, Ace. I guess it has been quite a few years, though…” It took a moment for him to register her promoting a treaty and he shot a look toward the vampire with his brow a little furrowed again. “An’ tell ‘em what? ‘Hey, I know e’rybody thinks I’m some ship stealin’ bulls***in’ sonuvabich but… trus’ me.” A wolfish snort from his sun spotted nose through the fabric of his face mask. “Might jus’ be easier at this point to take over. For everyone’s sake. I ain’t about to lose another ship.” His eyes softened a bit as they scanned the path ahead, his bootsteps slowing down for some reason. “If he’s willin’ to help, I wouldn’t brush it off. Seems decent enough… for a dragon.” The mask was drawn down, and the rogue’s eyes lifted toward not an exact point, but vaguely in the general direction of a perch among the cliffs. His nose did nothing for him as far as catching a scent but there were senses the man had developed even long before becoming a lycan. Namely that feeling of being watched.

Loravelle feels like she probably looks like she's waddling. It's because she is with all of those layers on, but thank the gods she hasn't slipped yet. She's trying to follow along with what they're discussing, but she can't help feeling just a little lost. The thought of just taking over the island, presumably, has her remaining silent while frozen gears in her head turn. She did tell Leo that she'd help him get Rynvale if she could somehow, and that hadn't changed. Admittedly, apart from speaking several tongues and balancing ledgers, Lora didn't know what else she could contribute here that might prove useful. Presumably violent takeovers didn't sound great, but that's part of wars, right? She's a devotee of Aramoth that has never actually experienced war first-hand, but her often anxious mind could conjure up a multitude of grisly, stomach-churning situations that likely paled in comparison to the real thing. “A dragon?” She's half listening, unaware that they're discussing Xiem now. It's getting too chilly to focus on much else but walking and listening, really. Her eyes are glued to the snowy ground in front of her, so she misses that a certain person that is actually a werewolf until she's told otherwise is watching them.

Lita snorts a laugh at Leo's impersonation of himself through others' eyes. "First of all, they're not wrong." She points out with a grin. "But also, that's not all you are anymore. You want them to see you a different way, then make 'em. You're a business owner. And a partner." Specifically his moonlightin' at SoulsKin. "And an avid supporter in Cenril. The charity bazaar and the election, only recently." Even if he'd been healing and a little hungover for the latter. "I mean, you want to go the brute route, you know murder's got your back either way." Wasn't really her decision in the end. "But I think if you're lookin' at getherin' an army, I'd rather trust the person behind me isn't there because he's forced to be." Lita follows Leo's steps, glancing at Lora as they continue, ensuring the girl stays upright and not face first in snow. She'd the same feeling as Leo, judging by the look on him, but she doesn't want to alarm Lora unnecessarily. "He is decent enough for a dragon." She grins to herself. "Still a bit shocked you were well behaved the other day." She says gratefully.

Krice wasn’t deliberately hiding from the group of investigative travelers, but there were obstacles–downed trees, rocks–that would occasionally obscure the line of sight between them all. He walked roughly ten metres south of them but parallel to their trajectory. As he descended the other side of the raised earth, another figure appeared behind him. From this distance, the only thing not identical between the men was their clothing–Krice wore all black, while the other wore black slacks with a red shirt, and dark-brown robes–and the enigma’s hair was silver, where the other man’s was raven. The second man halted as he regarded the three walking off to their right, hesitant, but ultimately joined Krice on his way down to level ground. They talked amongst themselves, quiet and minimal, moving westward with the warrior keeping a speculative eye on the group.

Leo had been around Loravelle long enough to know by her stride and silence, even in all those layers, she had to be worn out. If she was too tired to be coaxed into a piggy back ride with a crouch, he’d end up hoisting her unceremoniously over a shoulder. Embarrassing as either scenario might be for the Mouse, he didn’t give her much choice but to comply. She’d put a lot of effort into keeping up and witnessing things she would have probably preferred to go without knowing. As usual, Lita went on with all her perfectly good ‘reasoning’, and as much as he wanted to swat it aside, she made good points. It wasn’t new to the story, Leo being torn between leading like others would, or just taking and damn the consequences. It was just far more real with family and dare he say ‘friends’ in the mix of it. “Now when’ve I ever misbehaved…” Came the loaded, murmured question while he still seemed to be searching their surroundings at ground level and above. He might have looked behind their backs once, realizing that their tracks in the snow couldn’t be helped, but there wasn’t much reprieve since none of them had wings or a winged mount. “If it’s still standing, there’s a cabin not far off, an’ I thought to check on an’ old friend, but it might be best if we just push through an’ get the hell off this mountain.” He’d leave it to Lita, his newfound advisor, to judge that opinion. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t keep Lora’ in that cold and dropping temperature for too much longer, even as layered as she was and pressed against the lycan’s everpresent heat.

Lita turns finally at some familiar pull. The recent destruction isn't even the main reason she's kept out of Frostmaw so long. Just an excuse. Glimpses of raven hair have her narrowing dark eyes in the pair's direction, trying to get a better view for the distance between them. Leo probably didn't need the history lesson from her but she was keen to get out of Frostmaw. A sense that is sorely tested as the lycan scoops up his fiance over his shoulder. Lita fishes a stray stick-on tattoo from the pocket of her coat and scoops a handful of snow from the ground, adjusting Lora's scarves enough that she can press the little cartoon ducky to the girl's cheek. It is the Lita equivalent to drawing obscene pictures on your friend's face when they pass out at a party. And while her cheek might be cold and a bit damp for a moment from the snow, the cute little ducky might be a fair trade off for a few days. Once applied, Lita readjusts those scarves against the cold again and turns her attention back towards Leo. "Honestly, I don't know how safe it is for you to be carryin' her down the mountainside with the ground still shiftin' like it is." At least when she could clamber her way up and down, they only had to help with her footing. One bad step though and Leo and Lora could both go tumbling. She was less worried about the lycan in such a scenario, but worried all the same. "Might be better to find some place warm to hole up for the night and head home at light after she's rested some."

Krice looked over to see Leoxander retrieve the half-asleep Loravelle off her feet; this far out west, where the climate grew colder and the terrain wilder, humans suffered. As the proceeded away from the city centre, the two lookalikes at times grew closer to the travelling trio to avoid crevices of varying sizes, at times moving further away. At perigee, the ground shifted underfoot and the dark-haired man tumbled as if it simply vanished out from under him. Krice thrust out an arm and they locked wrist-to-palm. With an easy jolt, he pulled the other male back onto level ground and mumbled, “ Distracted?” The raven-haired man mumbled in reply, “Hardly.” The enigma was the first to glance toward Lita and her companions, but as he leveled his attention on the path ahead, the darker-haired male looked in her direction as well, in time to see her press something to the unconscious woman’s cheek. This far away and at this angle, even their sharper vision didn’t allow him to make out what it was.

Leoxander realized what he already, inwardly knew. He was risking Lora’s health and even her existence thinking they could make it to the next spot suitable for camp. And with the Mouse already tired and half frozen, a cabin with a fire pit would serve far better than trying to finish the night in a cave with a fire in the mountain winds. What he also realized was the shift in Lita’s dark eyes as she looked back, too. “They’re behind us, aren’t they?” He spoke low enough, but doubted even his most quiet of tone would be safe from whatever was trailing them all of a sudden. His hearing had been just a hint insignificant until they moved closer and he had no doubt of one or two voices. Well, this would be fun. If they sought trouble Leo would be torn between trying to fight with Lora in his hold or dumping her in the snow to get rid of the problem with Lita quicker. For now, he kept his grip on his fiance’s leg with one hand. (It works either position.)

Gorehilt has to earn keep some days. Taking it upon himself to do a good turn, the knight errant has mounted up his steed, dressed in winter gear, and galloped out to survey the wreckage. Cinderback’s flames, ordinarily bright and orange, look wind-whipped and dimmed as the frozen air rushes by. Gorehilt’s packed a small keg of hot brandy in his bag, and it still feels pleasantly warm through the pack. With his hands on the reigns and his eyes alert for souls in need, he diligently makes his frigid patrol. Hark! Voices! Guiding his nightmare gently with his spurs, the knight steers his mount to find, “good grief,” unexpected friends. Lora, Lita, and Leo. “There’s three peas in a pod. Hah. You’re trying to be, uh,” he quirks a brow already white with condensed frost, “frozen peas? What happened to you guys?” Cinderback is positively steaming, and the clouds reeking up from him have gathered in thick, spidery webs of frost along Gore’s armor. “Nevermind, it’s unfit to be out. Come on.” He jerks his head back toward the safety of the tavern. Meanwhile, he hasn’t noticed Krice yet…

Lita inhales a sharp breath at sight of the raven haired twin seemingly disappearing from view for a moment, pausing in step, but then is relieved to see that Krice has caught his arm. Lita hurries a few steps to catch back up with the pirate, still glancing over her shoulder at the pair seeming to follow them. She makes a little sound of affirmation at Leo's question. She has to keep telling herself that Leo's only met Krice earlier today. Which meant a far greater likelihood that he had never met Lav. She doesn't think they mean them any harm, more than likely just wanting to make sure they don't cause any trouble. They did have a bit of a reputation. Though they usually were well intentioned. Sometimes. Gorehilt on horseback- mostly a horse- is a bit of a surprise. Probably a good thing Lora is out and unable to gush about new magical ponies. Lita offers Gorehilt a smile and lifts a hand to the pirate's side, scratching briefly at his ribs. "You take Lora, get her warm. I'll follow." She'd veer a few steps away from the trio then, heading towards Krice and his brother instead.

Krice and his black-haired lookalike both glanced toward Gorehilt at roughly the same time, not when he spoke, but when the sound of hooves hitting terrain began to punch through the atmosphere. Strange looking equine, unfamiliar big-toothed rider, but friendly and helpful it seemed. Still a few metres south of the travelling now-quartet, Krice and his lookalike weren’t exactly following, but the natural twists and turns of the land - plus the damage caused by Xicotl - meant that, at times, it may have -looked- like they were. When Lita turned to approach them, Krice at first shifted to give her a metre of space, perhaps assuming that she wanted to walk past them, but it became readily apparent that the two men were her intended destination. He slowed to a halt once near enough and so did ‘Lav’ behind him, stopping after another step to pause just by the silver-haired enigma’s right shoulder. Their expression were relatively similar, pleasantly reserved, but Krice wore measured curiosity while ‘Lav’s’ expression showed hints of uncertainty. Breaking the silence, the enigma lifted his chin to greet her. “ Hey.”

Leo was pulled from his look on the back to the sound of horse hooves crunching through the ice from the south. It might have made sense that they weren’t the only ones traveling to that broken city to investigate but he was ever the suspicious sort - until he heard the familiar half-orc’s voice. He did eye the man’s choice of mount for a time, but Leo could hardly judge since somewhere out in the wilds there was a frost stallion that might just answer the pirate’s call. “There’s a damned hole in the middle of the city, Spike. You here for the frost rabbits?” Probably not much hunting to be done near the city since Xicotl’s appearance, and the question was edged with sarcasm, anyhow. The way Gorehilt motions, Leoxander picks up on where he’s intending to go, even with Lita’s willingness to return. He didn’t want to risk being swallowed up in the night. “Place is half rubble, mate. Streets are hardly fit for a bloody pixie to walk on. We need cover outside the gates.” His attention was pulled in the direction of Krice the moment he arrived at a distance in the lycan’s nighttime vision. He was trying to rub Loravelle’s back a bit all the same, to keep her warm. “You got some idea for shelter for the night?” Called out a little louder toward Krice as Lita closed the space between… them? There were two as far as he could see, but the scent blended almost seamlessly.

Lita isn't surprised when the pair stop a fair distance away and she sighs softly. "We just came to see if we could help." It didn't need to be such an awkward and stand-offish affair. Well, Leo came to suss out more information and maybe help. Lita mostly came because she likes Lora, but that's beside the point, really. She glances back towards Leo when he calls out asking about shelter. "But we won't get much farther without our friend catching hypothermia at this rate." She didn't want to give Lora's name without the girl being conscious. "Any suggestions?" She was asking for help. Or at least as much as she was likely to.

Gorehilt stiffly dismounts, still unused to the cold, and walks his nightmare the last few steps. “Easy enough,” he agrees with Lita and advances toward Leoxander. “She’ll be plenty warm in no time, but what about you two?” He’d like to say he’s the type to trust his friends implicitly, but given the dire straits he’d found them in, well, it seemed fair to entertain a little doubt. “Hah!” The half-orc puffs a laugh. “You’re the frost rabbits I was after, in case, you know, you were wondering. I think I bagged a good haul.” Reaching into his pack, he pulls out the cask of warm brandy and offers it to Leoxander first. “There’s some heat for your bones.” Now, as for a plan of shelter, truth be told, Gorehilt hadn’t really considered it. “I’ve got Cinderback, and that’s heat enough for Lora and me.” His face scrunches up. “But uh… there’s some holes in that plan.” Gradually, the half-orc realizes that there are more of them. Of us? “What’s that then, huh?” He nods suspiciously over at Krice and his shadowy companion. “More of you!?”

Krice figured his greeting was probably pointless given Lita’s direct launch into the reason she approached. He noted her sigh and his expression softened, while Lav beside and slightly behind him scrutinized her, wistfully. He held his tongue, since he didn’t know as much about this place as the silver-haired enigma. Leoxander’s call for direction - to warm shelter for the night - was met with a thoughtful stare by the known warrior, “ There are mines - though whether they’re still hollow following the earthquakes remains to be seen.” He hadn’t been there for… years. Memories. “ Or as the green guy said - go back east to the tavern. It may be damaged but it’s secure and warm.” His gold-freckled eyes passed over the unconscious Loravelle, noting the pink of her skin under the brush of winter air. This answer could also be applied to Lita’s request for help, those red eyes sliding toward her to communicate as much. Lav, the black-haired lookalike, broke his silence to state, “We were not following you.” It was meant to reassure them all that the pair had no ill will toward them. “This is the way we have to travel.” Krice turned his head as Lav spoke, regarding Gorehilt quizzically. “ Who’s this guy…” It was mumbled under his breath, semi to Lita but mostly rhetorically. Lav stepped forward to be a little closer to the vampire, now directly abreast his silver-haired lookalike, his expression a little less guarded and more amenable. Krice looked up at the green-skinned man to state, “ We’re fine. We don’t get cold.” Gorehilt didn’t need to stress about providing warmth for all of them.

Leoxander held onto Loravelle as the fiery steed approached, and if it offered any warmth he would not move, though he remained on guard even with Gorehilt on reins. He didn’t really have much of a free hand to the cask offered his way with Lora secured by his other arm, but caught it still with a slight step because he wasn’t about to waste good liquor. “You’re in my debt, Spike, really, but bloody take this thing…” His attempt to lean and pass it back in turn. ‘Lora and me’ was not likely to earn a happy look from the rogue, but he managed to keep his temper in check while he listened for Krice’s answer, in case there was a solution better than her cousin’s cabin deep in those dark woods. Mines? Sure, he’d slept in worse, but getting a fire going in that environment would be hell unless…. Leo would glance at his left palm covered by the Blackguard Emblem once he was relieved of the half-orc’s cask. No. That might very well result in more Frostmaw destruction. “Lita, forget it. I’ll find the damn cabin.” He was trying to resolve the matter by the time Krice’s… twin? He wasn’t sure. But that man was instigating with his mumbles about Gorehilt. Perhaps not on purpose, but the tusked one was probably still riled from his win. He would be. His main concern now was still getting Lora out of the storm that was starting to pick up in that late hour.

Leoxander had actually called her 'Lita', so she might know the rogue was getting worried.

Lita finds it endearing that Gorehilt is worried about them catching a chill. Less endearing that he's referring to them as 'snow rabbits' and this gets him a playful glare from the vampire. Maybe she'll let Lora steal his pony. Or at least try to. She glances back to Krice when he offers the information about the mines and further, the tavern. She'll leave it to Leo to make that call. She's just along for the trip at the moment. Her gaze flickers to Lav when he takes a few steps forward and her jaw sets a bit, remembering the package she'd found left on the front porch of the beach house and she glances away from him a moment, hiding the hurt in her eyes before she looks back to the pair again. "He's a friend." She manages to say of Gorehilt. She didn't know him much actually, but Leo trusted him and that went a long way with her these days. The sound of Leo calling her anything other than Ace draws her attention and she makes it a point to hurry back towards the trio. She lifts a hand to the nose of Gorehilt's mount in greeting. She'd liked horses a lot as a human. Had one or two back in the day. "Hey, I need a favor, okay? And I'll owe you all the treats for it." She says softly, scratching a little between the horse's ears. She slips her coat off and drapes it around Lora, taking the girl from Leo's shoulder, despite the fact that he'll probably protest. He'd know where they were going. And getting them there would mean him needing to focus. Without asking Gorehilt, she lifts her free hand into the horse's mane, pulling herself onto the animal and finding the reins, her other arm tightening around Lora's bundled frame. The cold scarcely registers for her but at least the horse would help keep Lora warm while they got to this cabin. "Don't look at me like that," she says sideways down to Gorehilt. "I'll owe you one too."

Gorehilt is starting to second guess his good intentions. Is this gallant hero business always so complicated? Somewhere, in another life, a smarter version of Gorehilt has his feet up by a fire and is drinking the brandy all by himself in a big fur armchair. “Yeah alright.” He quickly caught the cask before it could fall out of Leo’s grasp, took a quick swig himself, then corked it and kept it under his arm. “Alright, so they don’t get cold.” Gorehilt looks down his nose (or lack thereof) at the mysterious strangers. “I don’t think it’s as complicated as you guys say. We stick close to Cinderback and march back east.” He pats the nightmare’s side. Cinderback, for his part, snorts a frosty breath and looks impatiently at the other faces there. Whatever they do, the steed is eager to hurry up and do it already, because this weather is ridiculous. “Let me help you get her up, boss.” Gorehilt points at Lora and gets ready to help Leo set her on horseback.

Krice listened to the words shared between everyone, but he found his attention drifting more often to Lita. Lav, the dark-haired twin, was openly confused when Lita averted her eyes as he stepped forward, that confusion turning into a thoughtful frown. Whatever he felt in that moment, it was distracted when Leoxander floated that unfamiliar name in the air. ‘Lita’? His expression was questioning when he looked at her again, but not so intense that he expected her to explain. She turned to walk off anyway and he diverted his gaze, coolly dismissing whatever emotional response her departure caused. Krice, seemingly aware of the confusion that name caused, mumbled to his lookalike, “ She has many.” It wasn’t a dig at Lita, which he hoped she’d see in the gentle glance he offered her; it was simply a statement of fact. Lav turned to step in front of Krice and continued westward as Lita mounted the odd fiery horse, leaving the silver-haired enigma solo a moment to consider the energy of the circumstance. Maybe Leoxander would be oblivious, unaware of the history as he was–maybe was?--but Krice was not entirely. After a final glance at Lita, it was clear to him that the four allies were going to head back east. They were done with the twins. Turning, he continued westward with the dark-haired male, his features set in a pensive expression.

Gorehilt has only just gotten Loravelle onto Cinderback’s, uh, back when something very unexpected happens. “Hey. Hey!” Gorehilt swipes a hand to snatch at the nightmare’s bridle, but as soon as Lita tugs at its mane, its fires flare afresh. Tongues of fire jump up around Lita’s hand as the nightmare rears, flaming hooves pawing eagerly at the frozen air. The horse turns and gallops, sparks whipping around rider and passenger in bright yellow streaks. The sound of Lita’s promise and the beat of galloping hooves recede into the distance, soon replaced by the empty howl of the wind. Gorehilt is throbbing with rage. “Why that! That!” A stream of white-hot orcish profanity, vulgarity, curses, and every spiteful term he can conjure. After he’s cussed himself up to a nosebleed and back down again, Gorehilt feels like he can begin to catch his breath. Maybe.

Leoxander could admire Gorehilt’s determination, but the pirate replied in a dull tone. “There ain’t much left east…” Watching Lita’s attempt to hijack the horse after some mild confusion in his stare, having reluctantly forfeit Loravelle to her care, he figured the horse would keep them warm enough until they found the hunter’s lodge or the seamstress’ cabin. As both were in the woods and the annihilation seemed less the further they traveled in that direction, he had some faith that one or the other would remain intact. What he didn’t expect was the steed’s reaction, and whether or not Krice and his alike companion continued passed them, Leo stumbled back from the mount’s rearing before he stared wide eyed as it galloped at full speed off into the darkness, likely with a flicker of fire fading into the night. For a moment, the lycan was stunned, then perplexed, and then… angry. He looked toward Gorehilt. “What the–” One might guess half of Frostmaw would hear the cursing in his question toward the half orc. As much as he wanted to grab him by the collar of his armor and give him a reasonable nose bleed, Leo was turning to sprint into the night after them at once.

Lita has enough sense to stay seated and not jump off the steed. For one, parts of it are ON FIRE. More so than they had been before. She hadn't exactly taken this into account when she'd been impulsive about trying to be helpful, though this wouldn't be the first time her plans would go south. Jumping wasn't an option, at least not with Lora in hand. Maybe if it was just her, she wouldn't worry so much about what she was landing on or where, but Lora is squishy and fragile and precious cargo and she clutches the girl as close as she can, the end of reins wrapped loose around her fingers when all the can do is hold on, keep her balance and pray to some unnamed gods that it would run out of steam at some point. Even squinting, the scenery is a rush of blanketed snow and velvet darkness all melting together and Gorehilt's and Leo's curses wouldn't be the only ones offered up in that moment. She'd owe Leo something so much more than an apology after this.

Krice stepped a few paces past his dark-haired twin when that man halted to regard Lita, atop a literally-fiery steed, at full speed barreling eastward. There was a spike of concern that stopped him in place, but as he noted her ability to stay atop the mount, and her protection of the unconscious human, he soon realised that the vampire was quite capable. This was confirmed when Krice called back to his brother, “ Don’t look so terrified. She’s fine.” It was partly a tease; Lav didn’t look terrified at all. Turning, the dark-haired man passed the startled Leoxander right as the wolf broke into a sprint to pursue, thereafter affording Gorehilt a nod as thanks for his assistance - how Lav saw it, at any rate.

Gorehilt growls. Turns out he still has enough moxxy left in him to cuss Leoxander right back, keeping up syllable for syllable and curse for curse before, as if by some unspoken signal, he turns with the lycan to begin sprinting after Cinderback. He’d trained in armor long enough, but has he trained in the cold? Not so much. One way or another, this is going to be a short chase. Again, in some alternate timeline, a smarter Gorehilt is wooing some curvy bar wench somewhere on a balmy tropic beach, but alas, this is not his tale.

Gorehilt is somewhere between blind rage and blind panic and therefore, to his discredit, misses Lav's nod of gratitude. Talk about getting off on the wrong foot! Well, depending on what happens next, these four might have all night to amend introductions.

[ Part 1/5: Ace's Nature Documentary ] [ Part 3/5: Send her Back, Cinderback ]