RP:The Journey Begins
Part of the Souls Out of Time Arc
Synopsis: Raphaline and Eirik meet much later in the day at Frostmaw tavern. They talk of supplies and a pit stop elsewhere. Raphaline introduces Eirik to some dwarves.
Frostmaw Tavern
Slightly chilled, the tavern is still a far warmer location than the outdoors of Frostmaw. If the cold is too much for a visitor, they can take a seat near the tavern's center, a place dominated by a large firepit dug neatly into the earth. A fire is always burning within, fed by large logs and, strangely, scraps of leftovers flung in by passing patrons--to those in the know, this is to feed Aodhan, the fire wyrmling occupant of the pit and keeper of the flames. Aside from the stone and earth of the firepit, the rest of the flooring is of a dark wood, clearly a sturdy material to routinely bears the weight of many Frost Giants, their armor, and their frequent brawls. A similar wood, lighter in color, makes up the raftered ceiling with its steeped roof. Tightly packed stones create the lower half of the walls, the upper planks of wood built close together to keep out the cold. Booths, tables, armchairs, and stools of various sizes can be found throughout the tavern in no particular arrangement. Frost Giant lasses move skillfully among the crowds to serve ale and warm meals, occasionally stopping to regale a newcomer with the stories behind the many trophies hung upon the walls: sabercat fangs, mounted mammoth heads, aged weapons, dented shields, war banners, and a dragon skull hanging central from the ceiling, horns and jaws wrapped in blue chains. A rather bulky and well toned frost giant stands behind the bar. Upon his blinded left eye, a scar travels down and along his jaw. The large bartender, Drargon, simply watches the patrons, awaiting orders... or trouble, considering the massive war-axe resting beside him.
Raphaline seems to have gotten herself wrapped up in so many things today that by the time she heads to the tavern it is night time. With her things packed, she bids adieu to those in the fort and departs without a single glance back. With the night sky hanging over their heads, she is unsure about traveling far while they are in the mountains. Maybe tonight can be a discussion of the maps and the road ahead instead. As she slips into the tavern, knocking the snow from her boots, she scans the room for the northman.
Eirik sits at a table in the far corner of the room, eyes glued to a book before him. A half glass of whiskey sits beside him which is filled by the barkeep as she might glance his way. "Thanks," he looks up to Drargon. Although Raphaline may think he's been waiting long, the look on his face says he hasn't noticed it. -At all-. There is a large backpack stuffed with various items sitting near his feet, evidence that he too is ready to leave when she is. A couple of plates lie empty on the table, showing just how long he had been there. Suddenly quil and ink is pulled free and Eirik starts writing in some odd language inside the book. In fact if one were to peer at it's contents they would learn its a journal; written in Rosfjorian runes. Eirik is far too busy to notice the emerald eyed bard, and keeps himself entertained. Once again, Eirik is humming that slow funeral dirge of a song that Raphaline had been privvy to before.
Raphaline spots him and the material that he is nose deep in. Rather than interrupt him of his thoughts, she makes her way over to the barkeep and with a cheery grins asks, "A tall glass of whiskey for now." She places a bit of gold on the counter, dusts back her hood and shakes out her curls while she waits. Once she has her glass in hand, she turns to watch the northman for a second or two before making her way over to him and saying in her dulcet voice, "I see you might be into reading too?"
Eirik nearly jumps at the sound of her voice; not only evidenced by a jerking motion but the long scribble that now decorated the page he was writing on. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. His heart was racing. Perhaps he was working on an entry about her? "I'm not much of a reader. To be honest. Very few back home now how too." He eyes his book for a moment nervously, before both hands reach up to close it. "I learned to read and write so I could keep this journal." The book, quill, and ink are picked up and put away, shoved into the bag at his feet. "Have a seat," he whispers before smiling. "How did the talk with your fellow council members go?" He wanted to be sure it was okay for her to go. Although he was speaking to her, Eirik still had that song playing in his head.
Raphaline makes a sound similar to huff as she answers, “They weren’t too keen on one of their main healers leaving, but I think they’ve grown so used to my departures that it makes no difference to them anymore.” At least, it matters not while there is no true war going on to need her. She pulls out the chair across from him, and with a clink of her glass on the table, she seats herself. “I have never thought about keeping a journal, but that might be due to my being quite good at making stories easy to remember,” she says as she reaches into her own satchel and produces a rolled-up parchment. The edges are yellowed by time, and as she removes the leather piece, the paper seems to crinkle as she rolls it out for him to see. “This is an old map of mine of Venturil and Chartsend,” she says as she draws a finger over the plains region, the wildlands and then a top the Xalious mountains. “Easiest way is to go through Craughmoyle and the dwarven route under the mountain here, and then west through the dead plains. It is harsh weather and dangerous creatures, but it is the shortest route.”
Eirik grins as the map is revealed upon the table. Eyes light up as she explains it, and then Eirik takes a look for himself. You wouldn't be able to tell by just looking at him, but Eirik was excellent at navigation. Generally, he used maps and stars to gauge where he was. It was a trade learned from his days as a raider at sea. "Croghm..." He slaughters the name she had presented. I mean he butchers it badly. Something about it just didn't flick off his tongue correctly. Instead, he snatches that glass of whiskey and downs it. The entire contents. "Craughmoyle," his second attempt is much better. "What can you tell me about this dwarven city and of the dwarves themselves?" It would seem he was just as interested in seeing this place with his own eyes. The dwarven race of his homeland had quite a story and he wondered if it was the same here.
Raphaline looks up at him with her gaze a bit lit up at the prospect of introducing him to the dwarves of this land. Rather than just tell stories, she grabs a hold of her whiskey glass and tosses the contents back in one gulp. She places it back on the table and answers, “How about I show you? The entrance to their homeland is in the Xalious mountains near the mines. That is, if you can navigate climbing down a mountain well enough in the dark.” She has walked the path a million times, so she is pretty sure she can find her way. “I have a feeling their Inn and ways might ring a bit close to home as well.” Choosing not to leave room for him to say no, she rolls up her map, sticks it back into her bag, and with her hood back in place, makes her way towards the exit.
What choice did Eirik have? Raphaline and adventure were going to walk out that door. He would be damned if he let that happen. The Northman pulls free coin to cover his tab and tip well, for the time he had been there. He felt bad using the table all day and decided to make it up. The bag at his feet is snatched and slung over his shoulder. Hastily hand reaches for his sword to ensure it's there. She wasn't going to leave without him was she? "Wait up," he was practically running as he exited the inn. So he was off to the dwarven city? Eirik grinned like a child again.
At The Cave and Into Dragons Head Inn:
As you look around, you must squint your eyes to depict anything about this place. As you glide your hands across the cave walls, you notice that it is very damp, and can also hear water dripping onto the floor. There seems to be some glittering mineral in the wall. This would be a great place to mine. However, the area here looks as if it is not as rich in minerals as the continuation of the cave, which must have been recently excavated. The walls here still have a fresh dusting of some minerals on them however, it doesn't look to be as valuable as the shimmering from the north. There must be some kind of light coming from a small hole in the middle of that area. There is a sign here that says 'Warning. Rockslides may occur while mining, do so at your own risk.' Further north is the rest of the cave, and you believe the warning would hold true for the rest of the cave as well. To the west is a path that leads to a kingdom of sorts, probably the Kingdom of the Dwarves.
Raphaline makes her way down the pathway from the high reaches of the mountains into the more manageable region of Xalious. They pass by her home and as the path begins to be more rocky, she slows her steps until they come upon the mines. The cave seems inconspicuous, but, she moves westward, she reaches for the northman. "Stay close, the cave has a few dips where you might trip and fall." Her hand encircles his wrist as she takes he first step into the cavern and darkness seems to consume them.
Eirik the Northman does his best to keep up, but unlike Raphaline, his footing isnt as assured as hers. That heavy bag made this awkward. Even more so than just the fact that it was dark. Not to mention his leg was still not perfect. Honestly Eirik almost slipped more times than he could count, which is okay because he didn't care. Silver eyes scan the area near Raphalines home, he remembered coming by here once or twice. With a grunt, the Lycan continues pursuit of Raphaline. When she reaches back for him, he simply grabs her hand, whether that was her intent or not. In these moments he was more than happy to have her lead. "I'll try to be careful," he states before slowing down.
Raphaline keeps her steps slow and clear, as she moves deeper into the caverns. Her free hand is kept at a decent distance so that she can feel her way along the walls until she comes to a place where she can feel the ground beginning to slope downward. "The trail is going to start sloping down, so, keep a hold of me and watch your steps."
Eirik simply does as instructed, though perhaps going through a dark cave this late at night wasn't the best of ideas? He shrugs it off and continues at the slow pace. "You had better do the same." He states back to Raphaline before tightening the grip on her hand. He would do his best to not let her go tumbling down, that is if he doesn't do the same himself. Eiriks steps are slow and steady, nearly placed in the same spots as her own.
Raphaline keeps leading him until the trail levels off and lights and the sound of music and people can be heard coming a bit further down from them. Her mood picks up even more as she hears the sound of the dwarven songs echoing against the rocky walls. “Come on, they are beginning to play one of my favorites.” Her footsteps pick up to a point she is almost running until she finds herself before the door to the Dragon’s Head Inn. There are a lot of fond memories of this place, and some confusing ones as well. Grinning, she pushes the door open and leads the northman in. The sight he will find is of dwarves sitting at long tables, some drinking others are singing, while a select few are playing instruments or dancing. As the half-elf clambers in, she can smell the scent of mead and ale and cooked meals. As the dwarves notice her, a few call to her, “Muse! Come, sit with us!” And wave her over. Turning to her companion, she grins before taking off to a table full of familiar faces. One of them lightly nudges her and teases by saying, “Who is the handsome gentleman with you.” She glances to Eirik, and with a light smile answers, “Someone dear to me.”
Eirik races after Raphaline, booted feet pounding against the ground. The lycan slows his breathing as he comes to a stop at the door to the tavern. Already he could hear the festivities within. Already he could hear the clanking of mead glasses, either against each other or against some table. This was it. Eirik held his breath as he stepped in behind the emerald eyes bard. While mildly grinning, silver eyes shift from one dwarf to another. What had he just walked into? The dwarves of home were only in legend. In sung songs and stories. He had heard tales of their mead drinking and fresh meat eating ways. He had heard they preferred to live deep underground in mines, digging for precious materials. Never in a million years did he think he would meet one. Footsteps carry the man after her, to that same table she was called too. She really was famous every where. Handsome, a hand reaches up to idly scratch at his scarred features. Well then. He was liking this place already. But when Raphalines response is said, Eirik smiles. "Introduce us," a free hand points from himself to the patron.
Raphaline is quick to wave him over to meet everyone at the table. “This is Eirik,” she says first to the dwarves before turning to Eirik and elaborating, “I used to come here more often when I traveled to Chartsend. They are the most welcoming bunch, always happy to teach me new songs or accompany me in a song or two.” She grins, there had been so much drunk and played here in one night. At the mention of song, a few patrons pipe up and call for her to sing with them while drinks are brought to their table. The mugs are sizeable, and she can smell the sweet yet strong liquor. With a single gulp, she concedes to their request. Leaving Eirik at the table, she makes her way over to the group of dwarves that have banned together with their instruments and whispers among them about the choice in song. When they begin to play, she walks out to the middle of the room. At first, she is still but as the song picks up into the rise of the epic tale, she begins to sing. It is the story of great treasure and a great foe vanquished. With her singing though, she dances, each movement to elaborate visually on the content of the song. Some movements look as if she is fighting with said foe while others are to illustrate a great dragon that had been slain. Soon, others have joined the bard, dancing as the song comes to the point where hope and joy has once more come to the people. So they dance, and drink, offering her cups of mead and taking their turns to dance with the half-elf.
Eirik is elated to meet the dwarves, and what follows is a flurry of questions about their customs. All of this is done before Raphaline sings of course. Eirik waves his hand for a drink to be delivered and joins in mostly, idle chit chat. He met dwarves. Now he can scratch that off his list. But here it would seem that even the Northmans accent is unknown. And soon they might question the man about his own heritage. Eiriks gaze shifts to Raphaline the moment she climbs up to sing. This was his favorite part. Her voice was beautiful and could melt his tension like a fire to butter. Eirik wasn't tense though. Not in the slightest. Watching her dance, her graceful form, made him want to do the same. He hesitated for a moment. Just a moment, and climbed to his feet. Raphaline would soon find her dance interrupted once again. This time it is no dwarf. Eiriks hand extends out in fair offer. "May I interrupt?" He was asking her current dwarven partner, but in reality, eyes were on her. This is something he didn't have the chance to do at the charity ball. With the combination of music, the drinking and the loud environment, the lycan gave in. The shyness most had met is completely gone.
Raphaline is wrapped up in dancing with the dwarves so much, that she hadn’t noticed her companion joining them out on the dance floor. When his voice breaks in over the music, she turns those jewel-toned eyes to him and answers, “Of course.” The dwarf she had been dancing with has no qualms with releasing her, in fact, quite a few nudge her on. Her hands slips into his while the other finds a place on his shoulder as she draws in close to him and continues with the dance. Even with the most inexperienced dance partners, she can keep rhythm and still direct them, but at the moment, as she looks up at Eirik, she finds her usually astute mind searching herself for something much more. As the music seems to be coming to an end, the bard makes one last little spin into her companion and when she gets close enough, she swiftly leans in to place a single kiss on his lips.
Surprising enough, the Northman is rather light and nimble; this is -far- from his first dance. As a sort of muse for Illisaria, the man had to learn. Had to learn or deal with her wrath and when under those circumstances, he picked up the skill. Really anyone would with that kind of punishment. Far too often he was forced into this against his will. This time however, Eirik was quite willing and as much written upon his scarred visage. He was rather enjoying the dwarven tavern, but all good things must come to an end. When that kiss lands upon his cheek the Lycan smirks. "Thank you for the dance." Eirik though, had put a little too much strain on his leg and needed to sit back down. After letting go of Raphaline, he meanders back to the table to collect his things. "Do you mind if I get a room?" He pauses for a moment before adding "I need to get off my leg for a while." Silver eyes flick to Raphaline.
Raphaline nods, she did not want to try and journey further out while night was still upon them. “I don’t mind at all,” she answers, glancing down at the leg she knew had been injured before looking up at him again. “Would you like for me to look at again?” She asks, as she too gathers up her own things before heading to the bar counter to inquire about a room. The dwarf at the counter was quick to inform that they only had one room open for the night, and without a second thought the bard says it is alright and takes the keys from him. Turning to Eirik, she presses her free hand to his elbow and says, “They are upstairs, will the leg last that long?” It took everything in her to not just lean down and heal the muscles right here in the tavern. She has too much respect for the northman and would never want to make him uncomfortable in public.
Eirik finds himself walking towards the barkeep with the emerald eyed bard; a limp returned to his stride. Perhaps it wasn't just the dancing, but the climb down as well? Who really knew? Jaw clenches at talk of looking at his leg again. Damnit. Well, I probably should. Eyes shift to the hurt thing and back to her. "I.. I would like that." Eirik has no qualms about the single room, and coins are pulled free to pay for it, whether she liked it or not. A smirk appeared over his visage. "This leg would never stop me." Of course, he could make it to the room. He did have a bit of motivation. Eirik moved to the stairs then, with a slow and steady stride, right hand reaching to lean heavily upon the rail. With every right step, his weight shifts back to the faux wooden cane he was using; that railing. Eventually, Eirik would make it to the top, with or without any extra help. The warrior meanders his way into the room they had purchased, where back pack would be pulled and set to the floor.
Raphaline follows close behind him as they make their way up the stairs. Once the room is within sight, she sighs with a bit of relief. Given her history as a healer, she cannot stand to watch someone suffer when she can do something about it. Once he rids himself of the back pack, she tosses both her cloak and satchel onto a nearby chair before she tells him, “Go sit on the bed, it will be easier for me to help the wound.” If he does what she says, she moves closer and places one hand on either side of where she had seen the wound last. “I promise, nothing bad will happen,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she reaches deep into the recesses of her magic and pulls forth from it. On her lips, she sings a healing song, elven and strong but soothing. It is a song to release tension and cause muscle and bone and skin to begin to knit itself together in the proper manner. He might feel a bit uncomfortable for a bit, but, her song is close to singing life into him, that his body with adapt quickly to it. “There, it should feel a bit better in the morning,” she says as she removes her hands from his leg.