RP:Seeking Sanctuary

From HollowWiki

Frostmaw Tavern

Svilfon is sitting his favourite one-armed chair; the lost arm having been eaten by his goat a long, long time ago. He is lazily nursing a bottle of blood wine in one hand and in the other is a roasted leg of boar. Every so often the wizard will look around, before peeling off a small piece of meat and feeding it to the fire-wrym that lives in the fireplace - he is careful not to be seen, though; Satoshi doesn't like the little guy being fed at all. The vampiric spellcaster seems entirely content sitting here, and though a few giants are also making the most of Drargon's hospitality, none of them come close to the wizard. They all know him, and know when he is sitting peacefully he's usually preparing some kind of trouble... something that amuses them all. They know he keeps their queen and her friends on their toes... someone has to!


Jerica isn't looking for trouble, this time. Far from it. In fact, she is looking for the Queen. Some time ago she had sent Satoshi a letter and had not heard back. So, here she is, this small woman nearly drowning in a cloak of winter wolf pelts, pushing open the door to the tavern and stepping into the warmth. It might have been a little warmer than she expected it to be but she didn't seem to mind either the cold nor the heat. Tugging off her gloves as soon as the door closed and shut out the chill, Jerica then unclasps her cloak and pretends not to notice the several glances coming her way. Rosy cheeked, Jerica glances at the board of public notices but sees nothing much which catches her interest. After a moment of just standing there and scanning the room with a flit of brown eyes, Jerica queries in a voice that is soft and yet, oddly, seems to carry rather well. "Pardon, how does one go about gaining an audience with the Queen Satoshi?" Despite the shuffle of feet large enough to crush at least half her body, Jerica clears her throat again nervously and glances from face to face. Yes, even that one there, under a queerly pointed hat. (We mean queerly in the original definition in which it was meant, thank you)


Svilfon noticed Jerica the moment the slight woman walked into the tavern, though he doesn't move or betray this fact. He continues doing what he is doing even after her words have permeated the warm air. Well, relative to outside, anyway. A few of the giants stare, before one of them points at the wizard and in a voice that sounds like a rumbling avalanche he speaks, "Ask Toasty over there." Svilfon looks up as he hears those words and can't help but flash the giant a grin before raising his glass in a lazy toast. Only then does he openly turn to stare at Jerica. For a long moment he is silent, though the silence isn't uncomfortable, before he gestures for the small lady to take a seat while at the same time speaking in quiet tones. "And you are?" There is no challenge in his question, he is merely curious; but with wars being fought and allies shifting to become enemies, it was a time to be at least a little careful... as much as a wizard can be.


Jerica's hands twisted into the warm pale fur of the cloak she had worn and when the answer game she gave the giant a warm grin in return with a softly spoken thanks. Soft brown eyes follow the pointing finger to see Svilfon in his one armed chair. That was a curious thing to see, surely. As openly as the wizard studied Jerica, she just as openly stared back at the man until the invitation, though silent, came. Settling into the offered seat with an appreciative sigh, the assassin answers, still in a small voice, "My name is Jerica. The queen knows me and I sent a letter some time ago but have not received an answer. I do hope she is okay," genuine concern flavors her voice as she suddenly looks to Svilfon with a touch of worry in her gaze. The whole woman's demeanor is one of quiet timidity but a closer look would reveal a hardness deeper in her eyes and in the lines of her mouth that might hint that not all was as it seemed with this woman.


Svilfon nods his head as she sits and speaks her name. “Jerica... Perhaps I have heard of you. I am Svilfon, Wizard-Knight of Frostmaw, Magister Templi of the Mage's Guild.” He lifts a hand and tips his hat in an unconscious gesture, before taking a slow sip of his wine while further studying the woman. He highly doubts she is as timid as she appears; those who are timid do not long survive in Frostmaw. It is a city that screams from the peaks of its frozen mountains to the depths of its icy ravines, 'be strong or die.'. It was part of the reaosn the wizard so loved it here. “Satoshi queen has been busy of late. There is much to be done in her own kingdom, here,” He waves his arm out in a sweeping gesture that spills some of his bloodwine onto the floor. But he doesn't care, nor does he wipe it from his hand when it again settles on the one arm left on his chair. “So she has, for the moment, taken a break from the world to do so. But I can speak for her. What is it you seek of the lady Frostmaw?” Again the question is simply asked, as if he expects an answer without any question. But that is another trait of wizardry; social boundries do not exist for those who wear the most wonderfully fantastic hats in all of Hollow.


Jerica's gaze is drawn to the hat, which is indeed a grand hat to behold. Nervously she licks at her lips and smiles politely, if a touch bemusedly, at Svilfon, "Pleased to meet you. I helped the Queen and her King a time or two and was rather hoping I might impose upon her for a bit of sanctuary." Idly, Jerica reached back to pat her hair and the chopstick shaped stick in her hair bobbled a little but remained secure.


Svilfon is rather used to gazes being drawn to his magnificent hat, and it causes a small smile to play on his lips; showing the woman his gaps and fangs in equal measure. “A pleasure for us both, I'm sure.” The words are spoken a little dryly and with just a hint of another grin. “If you have aided them both, then you are welcome in my home. She would welcome you too, I am sure... though I must ask, Jerica... sanctuary from what? Or perhaps whom is a more pertinent question?” His very level of unconcern-ness shows it doesn't really matter, but he would be foolish to not at least enquire.


Jerica relaxes visibly, leaning back into her seat and tension seems to ease from her shoulders. Her smile is easier now even with the question, "I am not at liberty to say. I really just need a safe place to stay until I am told to come home. I have not heard of anyone eager to even attempt a coup on Frostmaw and decided this would be the safest place to be. Even without the aid previously given." Jerica did not seem off put in the least by Svilfon's looks. She found him rather charming despite them, and that he is obviously a drinker of blood. "I do promise that if my being here brings about any conflict for the Queen and her people, I will depart immediately and not a word will be heard of me after."


Svilfon is silent for a long time as he digests the woman's words. His face is impassive as he lets the silence grow, and even the many usually loud giants remain quiet and still. At last he nods his head. "Then you are welcome, Jerica, in my home... in Satoshi's kingdom..." The wizard doesn't seem at all worried she didn't answer his question, though at her final words a small frown forms upon his face. "Let us get this straight now, lady Jerica. If any come for you while you're under our hospitality, you will not need to run, nor hide, nor exile yourself from this frozen place. Your enemies will become our enemies while you shelter here. Your enemies will be my enemies, and my enemies do not live long in this world. But there is a price for this benevolent protection, of course." Despite himself he cannot help but smile again, the look entirely jovial; at odds with his serious words, and a fine mask to hide whatever it is he truly thinks, "If enemies come for us, we will seek you to aid us in defeating them... Your enemies are mine, just as mine are yours. That is the price of sanctuary here." In truth, he'd never heard Satoshi speak words like that. But this is the City of War; he knows the lady icicle would approve. "If you agree... welcome home. If not, I can aid you in leaving rather quickly..." There is no hint of menace in those final words - he'd simply teleport her back to Kelay... though, he leaves them ambiguous enough for the mere sake of finding it amusing - a perk of being able to speak for this city.


Jerica did not fidget as the wizard's sudden muteness dragged on to the point most would be squirming in their seats. Odd for a woman who had appeared to be such a nervous nelly a moment ago. Jerica is a patient woman though she did produce an oddly smooth stone from the satchel she had worn beneath the cloak, and only now is mentioned. This stone she palmed and rubbed her thumb over. It brought her comfort for some reason to do so. In that satchel are many a curious thing, mostly weapons and jars of tary substances she kept tightly sealed, along with knives and daggers. Not that she would readily be showing these things off, they were just in there. Along with other necessities, of course. Svilfon's promise that her enemies would be his and, assuming he spoke for his queen, the kingdom's almost made the assassin blink in surprise. Most would not have made such a vow without knowing who someone's potential enemy could be. A slow lifting occured at the corners of her mouth as she listened further to the wizard's qualifications for such an alliance. "I seek sanctuary because I was asked to. If, by chance, these people find me here and attack your people because of it, I would certainly feel obligated on my own to assist." It seemed that Svilfon wanted more than that so she stood and inclined her body at the waist in a slight bow, "You have my promise not to leave you holding the bag; I gladly pay the price for your hospitality." The fire light catches the woman's brown hair picking out the reddish tones and catching the slender stick which holds the lengths in a slightly messy bun at the nape of her neck. The faintest of seams might be seen about two or three inches below the top. Straightening, the woman loses the mask of timid uncertainty. "I will go see about procuring a room, then."


Svilfon nods his head as the woman makes to leave. “As you will.” He offers her a faint, fleeting smile, before returning his attention to his drink and the quiet musing he was doing before Jerica found him. He doesn't care who her enemies are, because he fears no-one. Nor does he fear she is a spy or any other such thing, because he simply does not care. She was seeking sanctuary, and she has found it here. And any betrayal of such will certainly lead to consequences beyond merely having a wizard seeking your demise. So as such, within moments of her leaving he has all-but forgotten the exchange, though he would not forget the woman. There was something about her... though he hasn't bothered to admit it to himself, and he would not admit it to her, he liked her; there was a calmness that spoke of violence about her; a shared trait amongst many who live in this land. He would make a note to find out where she was staying and pay a visit to her... but first, he must solve the problems that plague his mind and prepare for when he eventually hunts down the Sublime Master and matches wizardry with lichdrow magic once again...