RP:What The Cat Dragged In

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Frostmaw Tavern

Orikahn and Ivorile drag the head from the western reaches all the way to Frostmaw tavern, leaving a trail of gore and blood as they do so. Hildegarde hears whispers of some kind of giant monstrosity and blood, so she runs to the tavern only to find her two successful hunters. She rewards Kahn with an official title and position in the city and offers Ivorile something similar, to which he declines. The Steward asks for a report and receives some disturbing details...

Orikahn slides the horn off his shoulder at last, dropping the head just outside door with a noisy "whump!" that no doubt shakes a little dust from the rafters to drift down upon the tavern dwellers and (unfortunate for a few) into some of their drinks. He groans and stretches, rolling his neck, then leans forward with his hands on his knees, resting a moment. Panting softly, he looks over to his fellow head-bearer. "Good haul," Kahn remarks to Ivorile. "That'll thicken your hide. Good haul!" As if to rejuvenate himself, the cat beats his breast a few times, noisily clanging in his armor. The severed head has bled out by now, and the stump (sticky and caked with debris) only leaves a smear of greasy residue on the tavern's front step. Straightening again, Orikahn stretches his arms high above his head, a single tremor running down his spine before the tension seems to snap right out of him. He nods, gives an exhilerated sigh of satisfaction, and veritably kicks the door open.

Ivorile didn't really let his side of the giant cow head fall off, more or less it came down with him as he collapsed from exhaustion. "..Yeah...Haul..." he remarked before rolling over, and facing the sky, a look of confusion and exhaustion on his face. Then he saw something, and his expression immediately became a cheery one. He nodded at Orikahn, all fatigue seemingly gone from his figure. "Of course friend! A good haul indeed!" He walked over to some open street, and raised his arms, "Praise the sun!" he called out, finally being able to see the thing, for the first time in a long time. He turned back to his friend, his hands on his sides, a wide grin on his face. As the door was kicked open, the paladin would follow, some bounce in his step, and optimism in his visage.

Hildegarde had heard rumours of some kind of giant head being hauled towards the tavern, so rather than merely sit in the fort and send someone forth to deal with it, the knight thought she ought to attend the matter herself. Exiting the fort and heading down the path, the knight spotted a slick and thick trail of blood leading towards the tavern… surely it was not a giant who was bleeding so terribly? With hurried steps, the weakened knight bursts into the tavern with her halberd at the ready only to see the severed head of the beast and the two champions holding onto it. Orikahn she recognises, but not Ivorile. “I see you have had a successful hunt,” she says gently, straightening and relaxing her posture, shifting her stance into a relaxed state and not a combat ready one.

Orikahn is pleasantly surprised to see Hildegarde already and lifts up his visor to greet her with a cheerful grin, in a manic, ferocious kind of way. "Your eyes do not deceive you. Behold, the creature!" He begins to make a grand gesture, then thinks better of it, instead gripping the head by the base of the horn. Leaning dramatically through the doorway, he braces one foot against the doorframe and gives a mighty shove, dragging the head most of the way through in one pull. Kahn adjusts his grip, braces himself again, tugs again with a grunt, and soon pulls the massive, grotesque trophy into the warmth and firelight of the tavern. He sighs contently again and leans against it, looking rather smug as he glances from face to face, nodding his greeting to each fellow occupant.

Ivorile would also move over to the head, feeling proud of how he of all people, managed to assist in the taking down of such a beast. Though, he still didn't know Hildegarde, and meeting new people was always something he did, and was rather fond of, so he would nod his head at her. "Hello! I believe I've never met you!" the paladin would then turn to Orikahn, and nudge him with his elbow, as if slightly irritated he wasn't told of who they would have to talk to later, but he then turned away, clearing his throat, and extending a hand. "I am Ivorile! Nice to meet you!" he spoke in his normal jolly way, seemingly way too happy, even for a situation such as this one.

Hildegarde watched how the giants admired the slain auroch’s head from a distance, some murmuring about it and others outright going over to have a good and proper look at it. “I suspect Drargon might try to buy it from you, to hang it from the wall,” she explained to Orikahn, before being caught up in Ivorile’s greetings. “An honour to meet you, m’lord,” she replied courteously yet jovially, for one can be polite and happy all at once. The woman extended her hand to meet his, yet she did not grip his hand: instead her hand gripped his forearm in the style of the traditional warrior’s shake. A powerful and respectful gesture, one that was certainly noted by the giants in the tavern. “I am Hildegarde the Silver,” she wasn’t sure if he had been told already and she never liked to assume she was well heard or even well-known. “Your hunt has been a success and you will both be rewarded for your endeavours,” she promised. “Orikahn. I already told you that which I would award you… a title and position within my lands, as well as a prize. If you are willing, I would name you… I would name you First Ranger, but this does not seem to be what you are. Prime Hunter seems to suit you better. What say you, what is your preference?” she asked of him before turning to Ivorile. “And you. I did not invite you to this hunt but I am glad you were there. Ask of me a prize and if I have the power and the right to grant it, then I shall.”

Ivorile would chuckle heartily as he was given a firm handshake. "Not often do I receive such warm greetings!" he declared, nodding at Hildegarde, before simply listening. "Me? Reward? No! Helping others is it's own reward!" he laughed, his shoulders gently bobbing up and down. He then bumped Kahn with his elbow in similar fashion to how he was bumped. "There go you friend! Makes the time in the little ditch seem like minutes doesn't it?" he would laugh once more, and survey the tavern. "Anyway Hildegarde the Silver, I thank you for the offer, but I simply must decline." he sighed, and looked over at Kahn. remembering...the calf. He shuddered, and removed such thoughts from his behind, before going back to smiling.

Hildegarde could not force a reward upon a person, particularly honours and the like. “Very well, Ivorile,” she said and left it at that. If he didn’t want anything, she could not exactly push it upon him. Perhaps a small token of appreciation, but nothing more. Now the woman glances between them, “I need not hear all the gory details,” because she was well aware of how often hunters could get carried away and spin a long tale about slaying, “but I would like a report of events.”

Orikahn grins in sly recollection of their many, mostly miserable hours out hunting together. The sabertooth looks fondly down to the dismembered head and gives it a couple pats. Minutes indeed... Speaking of minutes! Hildegarde is requesting a report and Kahn, apparently needing no further prompt, bangs his fist like a gavel on the beast's bony brow, grinning a fang-ed grin from ear to ear. "Many fierce obstacles beset us. Our flesh and souls alike were subject to cruel and constant turmoil." He unclenches the fingers of his fist, palm upward, his gauntlet gleaming in the lamplight. "Oh, what a catalogue of grisly death, the like of which even I myself have never known: ghosts, beasts, and foul curses alike! Even on the virgin eve of our savage mission..." Despite Hildegarde's warning, Kahn has already launched his hunter's yarn.

Ivorile cleared his throat as he began to watch the hunter go into detail of their journey. He personally didn't have much to say about it, as after all, he was more of an onlooker on the hunt. Yeah, sure, he had his moments, but it was the shocking heroics of the might cat that sealed the beast's fate. "Mmhmm!" the paladin nodded as the hunter went on his spiel, while also answering Hildegarde. "Thank you for obliging, the offer for a reward was a reward enough to me!" he would then get silent, as he went to lean up against a wall, being quiet and nodded along to Kahn's story.

Hildegarde had heard all these tales before, all spun in various different ways. She could have interrupted and told him to get to the root of the problem, but what would that serve? Perhaps his tale would amuse her or at least prove far more interesting than any monotonous report. So rather than interrupt, the Steward stood and listened; nodding here and there to further the story.

Orikahn spins on, gesturing out the story as he speaks. "...we were caught unaware a vicious spirit whose slashing claws and great, gnashing fists nearly froze our limbs ashatter! The ghost of terrible, ferocious giant, whose utter savagery and frigid disregard was must terribly admirable. Just as I had been knocked sailing through the air by a mighty punch that hurtled me clear through the sky, I could see, just as I was cresting over the moon and beginning my descent, Ivorile with his sunsword, driving back the giant with an indomitable ferocity." Kahn adopts the stance of a swashbuckler and makes several exaggerated parries and thrusts. "And though I had fallen far enough to knock the very spirit right out of my body, my ghost as it hovered there was so inspired by Rile's onslaught that I, for envy alone, could not leave the earth and miss such a fight. We rallied, each with the end of a flaming scarf, banished the phantom in a brilliant blaze, but that was only the very first night! It was days before we caught the beast. Days! Tell her, Rile." Kahn, with all his enthusiasm, gestures at the knight. Apparently, he is nearly spent with the effort of his storytelling, and he holds out a hand as though to tag the paladin in.

Ivorile laughed as the story went along, a wide smile appearing on his face with his friend's shocking theatrics. "It was days indeed! Though, I don't think you quite went over the moon, I'm fairly certain you went down through the snow..." He would scratch the back of his head. "I guess I could have been wrong." the paladin then shrugged, and was of course tagged in, taking over the telling. "It was then, spirits broken, and dazed, we sat in the hovel, with nothing but the cold harsh winds to comfort us! Then suddenly! A massive shape rose up in the distance! Orikahn's keen eyes spotted it! And he alerted me at once!" he dropped to one of his knees, and looked up towards the ceiling. "It was a towering creature! A giant and a half in height! Made of muscle and stone cold sinew!" he would then rise, and point upwards, "Kahn shot it with a barrage of arrows, all hitting their mark!" he would jump over to the head, and point at it's face. "It's face and neck bristling with arrows!" he then pointed over at Kahn, and took in another deep breath. "While he bravely faced the beast down, I was quick to it's side, driving my sunblade into it's flesh!" he would then begin to laugh, as he continued. "Then we...heard..." he suddenly fell silent, his laughter turning to nothing but silence and a blank stare.

Hildegarde is already a little tense at the mention of spirits. They were things that were not to be trifled with in Frostmaw, restless spirits that were feared yet respected in Frostmaw. Protected and feared all at once by the people. “Heard a…?” she prompted, yet not unkindly. She is curious to know whatever it was that had them so… shaken and off-put.

Orikahn senses the narrative faltering, and he quickly musters himself back up. "We heard a cry," Kahn's already naturally deep tone lowers to a sinister rumble, "drifting over over the empty, frozen wastes, and we saw stumbling towards us," he points at the severed trophy, "a calf." His eyes slide between the head and Hilde. "A very large calf, staggering, and wobbling," Kahn limps across the floor, "out from the ruins, calling, calling, calling..." Gravely, the cat straightens. "It was anathema. Cursed. Bad juju. I fled with the head while Rile dispatched it." Kahn gravely crosses his armored arms tight over his chest.

Ivorile gulped at the memory and sighed. "Well the past is in the past!" the paladin stated, turning to the other two, a smile on his face. "Hey, remember I said we can celebrate when we drag the head into town?" He gestured at the head and smiled. "So, what does anyone say about going a few rounds?" he looked between Hildegarde and Orikahn, a big smile on his face, as well as being in quite the stoic posture.

Hildegarde raised a hand as Ivorile attempted to change the subject, “No. You will tell me more of this,” she said, unconsciously shifting between friendly listener to natural ruler of the tundra. “You dispatched this beast, you mentioned your sword being lit. I assume you are a paladin of some kind,” she said thoughtfully. “The calf. It was… what, cursed? Undead?” she asked. “I need to know for certain. This is an important matter.”

Orikahn seemed quite alright with the idea of drinks, but instead finds himself wrinkling his nose at the word 'undead' again. The concept was still a little elusive to the feral hunter, and, though his prideful ego would never admit it, Kahn knew in his heart of hearts that he was unqualified to speak on the subject. "Bad juju." Kahn reiterates, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Rot. Flies. Worms. Stench. Death." Something in him is a little offended by Hildegarde's interest in the foulest memory their hunt had to offer, and he looks with longing back to the head (its vacant eyes, its lolling tongue, its bloody stump).

Ivorile sighed as he was forced to recall the said memory. "Fairly certain it was dead." Ivorile said as he sniffed and blankly looked across the room. "Paladin? No, I am but a warrior of the sun, the sword came into my possession by fate, I know not why, or how, it happened." he shrugged. "I haven't a clue." he simply stated.

Hildegarde offered a thoughtful grunt. An undead beast in the western wilds was no small thing. This would require some investigating. “Thank you, for your report and services rendered,” she said to them both, “I shall not delay you any longer from your celebrations.” That said, the knight spoke up to address the entire tavern, “Drargon! Drinks are on me, in celebration of these two mighty hunters. Enjoy,” she said, dipping her head to the cheers of giants who hurriedly made their way to the bar to get some free drinks. The knight would depart with that.

Orikahn can breathe a sigh of relief when the topic can finally change. "This celebration is yours too!" The cat calls after Hildegarde, but the cheerless steward is already gone. Not about to let the mood take another nosedive, Kahn trots up to the bar, well and ready for a tall, frothy beer.