The Cold Dark: Descent of Winter

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The lands of Fanoria have for generations been a relatively peaceful place, with only minor skirmishes and battles, often quickly settled. Ruled over by Emperor Marthus I, a man rumored to be not only powerful, but immortal. Unbeknownst to most in the empire, their lands were only safe and peaceful thanks to the efforts of this great man. Everything seemed normal, perfect in the lands of Fanoria.

When a mysterious winter began to settle over the edges of the empire, creeping in from all directions toward the heart of Fanoria, the people were not immediately concerned, thinking it just an early coming of the seasons. But when changes began to come over the land, the once tall and majestic forests of the northern realms becoming dark and twisted places. Crops began to wilt and die, the grounds suddenly becoming infertile and dry.

The normal creatures of the land began to become sickly and diseased, sometimes rabid things. They've begun attacking people at random, spreading diseases, etc.

And then the actual winter came. Blizzards unlike the land has seen since before the time of Marthus, when the empire was still a group of small kingdoms battling constantly have swept in, killing plant and animal and person alike, showing no mercy and leaving in their wake three to four feet drifts of snow. Hale the size of grapefruit pelt the land, tearing through thatched roofs and battering people unlucky enough to be caught in the storm.

What is happening to Fanoria? A winter like this has never been seen in the time of the people who now live, even the eldest can not remember weather like what they are experiencing. Experienced hunters, rangers, druids, and other such wild people are bewildered by the animal life taking this bitter turn. And now strange occurances are being reported, people claiming that strange creatures and mysterious figures have been seen prowling the land, especially at night.

Are you brave enough to attempt to solve this mystery? Are you ready to journey into the cold dark and attempt to seize the truth and return Fanoria to it's former glory?

Name: long forgotten (Tomankis, son of Tomankin)
Age: 27 years old
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 190 lbs
Hair: Thick curly and dark brown, typically held behind his head in a simple braid
Eyes: Green during the spring, Hazel during the summer, brown in the fall and a pale blue during the cold cold winter.
Build/Looks: He has a strong, athletic build from years spent running and climbing around his domain in the forest. He has a natural grace of movement and his senses are nearly as strong as the animals' in the forest.
Profession/Class: According to traditional DnD classes, he would be a dual-class ranger/druid, already with a few levels of druid and starting on the more combat oriented ranger path, more out of necessity than desire.
Personality: Honest and honorable, though he tends to care more about plants and animals than people. The only human he's ever really known is his father, though he understands there are many others out there; he has seen them in passing caravans. The caravans have always largely not strayed from the road and been respectful of the forest, so there was little need for interaction with them, aside from a little haunting prank in the dark night every now and then...
Background: His father before him was the druid who cared for this forest. His mother was a young woman, a runaway who passed through the forest. He saved her from a wild boar, and their ensuing romance lasted only a few years before the woman grew restless and was called away by the road. By this time, Tomankis was but a cub, but grew up strong and proud and totally isolated from others like him (i.e., human). His father was killed by the monsters that came with the cold, and Tomankis barely survived the encounter. He is an expert marksman with a bow, but his fencing abilities leave a bit to be desired, mostly because his father was a poor swordsman himself, but he knows he must learn to use his blade if he is to survive. He has been holding his father's sword ever since, trying to make it an extension of his body.

Tela

Name-Tela
Age-24
Height-5'7
Weight-120lbs
Hair-Long Jet Black Hair
Eyes-Blue very light blue with a white tinge like clouds mixed with the blue sky.

Build/Looks- Athletic build from working at the local tavern and carrying heavy trays of meat and lugging barrels of ale in and out of the store room. Dark complected, striking blue eyes. Large breasts that often cause her more misery than anything else with way to much unwanted attention.

Profession/Class-Bar maid, serving wench
Personality-She has a wiced sense of humor, always quick with a come back. She knows how to use her looks to her advantage and is not afraid to do so. Prefers the simple life and tends to ignore lifes bigger problems and always thinks that heros are larger than life.

Background-Tela was basically orphaned her when she was two years old. Her mother arrived under mysterious circumstances and was in labor and died during child birth. Tela was adopted by a local farmer and his wife as they had no children since she was barren. They were good to her though poor. When her adopted father came down with the sickness they left to seek a cure in a far away city and never returned. At the young age of 16 Tela was left all alone and found work at the local tavern. She soon learned that her stunning beauty could be used to her advantage with the men that visited the tavern. The owner was often mean to her and expected more than work in return though she he never tried to rape her and she never gave in. But her refusals would be met with beatings and the bar keep took mercy on her teaching her how to fight. She eventually had enough and one day fought back and broke the mans nose along with giving him a good swift kick between the legs. After that point he left her alone though he would have fired her but customers often came to see her. She would have left but had no idea of where to go and knew nothing of her parents. She eventually began giving a few private shows for her patrons to make extra money and of course the owner always got his kickbacks. She needed a change though what would soon happen was not exactly what she had in mind she was only looking for a way out when it all started.

Name: Wilhelmina but everyone called her Mina.
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130 lbs
Hair: Long dark and black with a few waves and kinks in it.
Eyes: hazel/green

Build/Looks: Tall, and lean. She is slightly toned and muscular. She has a slight tan from the sun and looks dirty from her job and lack of money.

Profession/Class: She is a blacksmith/farrier. She had a horsefarm but as the winter came her horses died and she had no money to get new horses and keep her forge. She is also a strong fighter when it comes to hand to hand combat - having to fend off people from sleeping in her abandonded barn or land.

Personality: She tough, and mostly keeps to herself. She was always looked oddly for being one of the very few women blacksmiths, but it was her father's trade and since he had no son's, she had to carry on the business once he passed away. She can let her guard down occasionally but must trust the person in order to do that. But has a tough outter shell dispite her sharp features and attractive looks.

Background: ((some of if was mentioned in the other categories)). Things never went well as soon as the winter had hit. Her father passed away before it had come and her mother had died at her childbirth. She lived with her Dad on the farm and she helped raise the horses, train them, and sell them with her father. He also taught her how to defend herself. Teaching her martial arts like moves and punches, as well as how to hold a sword and throw a daggar. She was best with knives and small objects and hand to hand then with swords. After her father passed away from disease, she kept the farm going by herself and a few friends of hers telling her to marry, but no man had ever really sparked her interest to much. If they did they usually married someone else. When the storm hit and her horses died, she could barely keep herself fed, and was usually working on armour for the men in town.

Name: Isis Winbley
Age: 18
Height:5 5"
Weight:126lbs
Hair:Curly,black, and long
Eyes: Dark forest green

Profession/Class: Her father is a hunter, mum collects herbs for all sorts of things, from adding flavour to a meal to curing a headache. Her mum has been teaching her ever since she was five, so she is just a common local.

Personality: She is curious, extroverted, and respectful. Though she tends to be stubborn, and a bit of a rebel in her own little way. Rules don't suit her too well, but she has never done anything too drastic.

Background: She grew up just like any other girl in the land. An only child, and as such showered with a lot of attention. Her family has lived modestly, and happily for years, until the "curse" happened.

***
She had been outside during one of her escapades. The sun had just set, but it wasn’t dark yet, so she saw no reason why she couldn’t stray from home for a while longer. Father always worried too much about her well being, but this was Fanoria, the worst that could happen was a trip, a sprained ankle, a cut, or getting lost. She feared none.

She was the youngest and the oldest child of her parents – the only one they had been blessed with. Mother always wished she had had at least one more baby, but alas, it wasn’t in the cards for her. Isis did fall victim to the overprotectiveness which came with overly concerned and overly conservative parents; but it had also been what spurred the rebellious streak in her persona.

She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous and most of the young men knew very little of her, mainly because she was never around; always alone and away from home to pursue interests best known to her. But, she was… what is it they said... very easy on the eyes. Her eyes were intense, matching a slender frame accentuated with curves that left little to be desired – and yet, she stayed away from most girls her age also.

Isis got lost in her dream world so much that she lost track of time. It was dark… Father will be furious, he thinks something may be wrong with Fanoria… she chuckled softly to herself. She made haste to return home, for now even she was a tad uneasy. It was then that an icy chill crawled upon her skin, causing her brows to furrow and her body to shudder.

It was standing just a few feet from her; it because she couldn’t tell what it was. Isis parted her lips as if to scream, but no sound was heard. Her legs failed to hold her weight, and she remembered falling… falling whilst it took steps toward her. The incredible fear coursing through her being rendered her immobile, but her eyes remained open - she was too scared to close them.

Isis awoke the next morning in a daze, a few miles from her home. How she got there, she couldn’t even begin to fathom. What last she recalled was that the thing that scared the day lights out of her had had no eyes, in their place there had been only blackness...

Name: Rietha Terenbaum
Age: 25
Height: 5'62
Weight: 156lbs
Hair: Dark blond and very long, silky, held in a braid that usually hangs free. Two bangs frame her face down to her chin.
Eyes: A deep, clear green, with no small amount of calm and intelligence behind them.

Build/Looks: Lean and athletic, her legs are strong for running, and her arms for drawing, showing with the subtle bulging of muscles. Fair skin, not quite tanned. Not too busty, but still noticeable under her uniform. About a C.

Profession/Class: Archer, militia-woman. She uses a longbow with outstanding skill, but this weapon still suffers from its limitations. The further the enemy is, the harder it is to hit them. Despite Rethia's exceptional aim, targets beyond 400ms are incredibly difficult, if not impossible, for her to hit. She also weilds a dagger with what could pass for acceptable skill... but not much more.

Personality: Sincere and kind, unafraid to get involved with people, willing to help in any way she can. For her, a militia is not just a means to ensure the safety of her town against an invading force, but also to ensure this safety against thieves through deterrement. Rietha considers the militia a job of great responsibility, a sacred duty towards her neighbours and other citizens, and she reflects this ideal in her willingness to help. As can be noticed, Rietha is a mature, responsible woman with a clear view of what is right and wrong, and what needs to be done to solve any problem. Although not educated, she is more or less wise in that regard, as she approaches matters with a cool, cautious mind.

Background: Defense of pathways, roads, caravans, and of course cities, has always been important. Because of this, someone has to take control of the situation, and not always can professional guards take the job, since they are already busy guarding the nobles. Militias fill in the gaps when it comes to military might, and they are formed from the populace who also have other jobs to attend to, which means that their training is lacking. However, they make up for it with courage, determination and numbers, all of them admirable qualities for an army created to defend the people. Rietha joined them, feeling attracted to a job that felt important for, and to, her community. Rietha joined when she was 17 years old. Although she had to struggle in a male-dominated environment, her strong character, soft kindness, and natural skill with a bow soon earned her some respect, specially seeing how she came from a long lineage of expert bowmen, so it can be said her skill comes from generations of huntsmen and soldiers. Rietha is also a barmaid (she is a citizen, after all, and the militias train in the weekends) living at her employer's tavern, a young man who inherited the property from his ill father and who she can consider a friend. She can carry out both jobs well enough since the militia trains at weekends, and she works on weekdays to earn her sustenance, and she does both with a kind smile on her face, and tough hands to draw a bow or swat a hand away.

OOC: Forgive me for taking so much longer than I'd originally planned to get this post up. After a long weekend that left me drained, I took Monday to gain a little R&R, not wanting to post here until it would be my best. Yesterday I wasn't home much, but I'll be here all day today and I think I can finally do some justice to the story.

IC:

It's been less than a year since the winter started encroaching on Fanoria, slowly creeping in from all sides of the empire, making it's way at a crawling pace toward the heart of the empire, the Imperial City.

To the people of Fanoria, this is a frightening and dire change to the world of Summer and Spring they're used to. Never before have their winters lasted more than a few weeks, and never before has it been such a violent shift from one season to the other. No evil has ever been known in this empire... no crime, murder, or anything of that sort, and these things have still, surprisingly, not surfaced.

It is the beginning of a "life as normal" day for all of you.

Mina, the last of your horses has finally died, unable to stand the cold no matter how hard you tried to provide as much warmth as possible. Other's horses are perishing as well, and it's getting progressively harder to live off the meager earnings you're gaining from your work. Your neighbors are willing to help you, bringing you food when they have it to spare, but life is becoming hard on everyone in the village. The snow hasn't stopped in over a month, snowing every night as soon as the sun seems to set. The sun that peeks through the grey clouds during the day is not enough to melt the snow thoroughly, and so the snow drifts pile ever higher. The people in town struggle to keep up with the rising drifts, digging out paths through town so that people can make their way from one place to another without getting caught.

Isis, Rietha, the snow hasn't come to your village just yet, but travelers on the road have come into town you live in, speaking of the huge snow drifts plaguing the land only a day's ride from you, and they say that even though it's slow in it's approach, the storms may be making their way this way. One of these travelers looks oddly from the others, his clothes not befitting a common man. From the few higher ups in society that you have been exposed to, he doesn't strike you as noble, but his clothing is certainly not something any commoner could afford.

Tomankis, you have finally been forced from your forest home, the choices having been to stay and freeze/starve to death or move on, away from the trees and animals as they become sick, twisted things, far beyond anything you have the skills to fix. Fleeing from the snow and creatures, you follow the road toward the north east, and finally find yourself in a small town that has been hit hard by the snows. Despite this though, the people are kind and one of them, a hunter and his family, give you a warm place to bed down until you decide where you are ready to go.

Tela, the men in the tavern where you work speak of an odd type, one rarely seen at all, let alone outside of the forests- a druid. He's come to your town, seeking shelter from the winter that rages outside. The older men talk over their ale, saying that if things are bad enough for a druid to leave his home, things must be dire indeed.

Tomankis

There are only so many skins he could wear to keep himself warm and still be able to move well enough to combat the lurking dangers that had crept into his forest. Tomankis had killed half a dozen dire wolves in the last two days, and evidence suggested there would be more on the way. They came with the snows. It was only a matter of time before he froze and was an easy dinner. Tomankis had little in the way of personal effects. He wore the white furs of a couple of the dire wolves he had slain; a tunic and thick leather pants. He had a few days' dry rations. He had his bow and a dozen arrows. He had a strong knife and his father's sword, a blade crafted in antiquity by a long-dead civilization that still had its long razor edges and deadly point. It had a nice heft to it, and amazing balance.

He had a few gold coins but he had no idea their worth. Tomankis had found them along a road well-traveled by merchants, and it was this road that he took away from the cold, and by nightfall he had come to a town, a village, a place locked in battle with the cold and the snow. It occurred to him that he may die before he ever saw another spring.

Tomankis went to the public ale house, and when he payed for his meal with one of the gold coins, he received several coins back in change, enough to rattle around more than he liked on his person. The townsfolk welcomed him and a hunter offered him a bed for the night, and his tired, cold body could not say no.

Mina

Mina sat in her home next to what was a diminishing fire. She stared out the window at her locked up and empty barn and forge. Her body shivered as she took short breaths, her hands were shaking. She has eating sparingly with what was given to her from neighbors. She gnawed on a piece of stale bread as she sat in the darkness that was her home.

The night snow was going to fall soon and she needed to get food into her body soon. She thought of making a hard trek into town and using what little money she had to get some kind of a warm meal. She grabbed her cloak of the hook and put it on as if she was to go out and just wrapped it around her body. She didnt know how much long she could live like this, her work was slowly coming to a standstill.

There were very few horses left in the town, and no one needed armour fixed, created, or anything. She thought of just putting a lock on her forge just as she had with her barn and giving up, but there was a part of her that still had hope, but it was slowly running out. She needed to do something soon.

Rietha hurried around the tables, dodging an elbow here, and a knee there, as she took the orders to their tables in the midst of the bustling crowd in the tavern. With so many people moving between towns, the business seemed to be going well...

Rietha was too intelligent not to know what was coming later, though. If this winter reached as far as the town soon, and if the travellers could be believed this was what was happening, she would have to leave the tavern. Even the town. She couldn't think too deeply about this as she focused on moving trays around, but the worrying fact was still there. Although that wasn't the only worrying thing...

Rietha slid between two burly men, and glanced at the man in the corner. He had nice clothes, but he did not show the demeanour of a noble. How had he managed to get a set of such expensive clothes? Surely a commoner would have better things to spend money on? Rietha herself was not dressed luxuriously, precisely. She wore a blue dress with a short apron and corset-like piece which didn't impair too much her movements. Rather, they made them a bit easier since the patrons would naturally move away for fear of having a bowl of soup of a mug of ale dropped on their faces. But the fabric was not quite comfortable on the skin, not after a few hours had passed...

But well, if the man wanted anything, he just called for her, so Rietha let him be and just attended to her patrons, as usual. For now, it was time to work, not to dawdle in useless thoughts.

Originally Posted by Tseranc
Name: Eolin
Age: 35
Height:5'10”
Weight: 200 lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue

Build/Looks: His hair is long enough to reach his broad shoulders, though he keeps it out of the way in a simple tail. A few small scars, mostly on his arms, earned in battles and street brawls long ago. A short, well trimmed goatee outlines his mouth. When stressed, his right eye twitches.

Profession/Class: Previously working for a big time merchant, left him with a knowledge and taste for traveling. Now he's small time merchant on his own, traveling from town to town, buying and selling what he can. Lives mostly in various Inns or his tent while traveling. He owns a decent wagon, and a two horse team to pull it. (merchant/rogue)

Personality: A quiet man, eager to share a joke or ale, but not to talk much about serious matters, and never about his past if he can help it. Eager to make a deal, but always honest. He's not out to make a fortune, just trying to support his lifestyle. After a few mugs of ale, or good wine, his good nature tends to get the best of him, and has been known to toss the dice or such small time gambling.

Background: Orphaned by a fire, and hardly remembering his true parents faces, he was left to his uncle, a highly successful merchant. Life was safe, but not warm under his uncles care. The man cared more for gold then a child of his sisters; who, in his opinion had married beneath her to begin with. Eolin parted ways with his uncle and has since enjoyed a more friendly nature with his customers then ever his uncle would have.

Snow had turned his easy business into a perilous task. Many roads were never cleared, and he had to go around, or trudge on at a craw as best he could...when he could at all. He stopped carrying most perishables six months ago, save for ones to feed himself. Twice he'd had to use a sword against the only bandits that mattered; hungry wolves, driven ever bolder by the lack of food.

But if his work had become more hazardous, it had become far more profitable. He seldom even had to remind the towns and villages he came to how hard his travels now were – demand for his wares made initial offers on items quite high, and often lead to people trying to outbid each other for things, as they rushed his approaching wagon.

As he crept up on the latest village, he continued to look back at the wheels of his wagon, hoping they would make it the next mile or so. Surely he could find a blacksmith to repair the steel bands around them. Maybe even have new ones made, if the town still had the craftsmen to work the correct woods. A sad fact he'd encountered in his travels, was this frightful winter had man many close up shop, or worse. Not everyone survived the cold in some of the more norther villages.

Eventually, he came to the inn, but there was no one braving the cold to greet him; he was not expected after all. After making his way inside, and paying for shelter and feed for his team, and acquiring room and board for himself, Eolin began asking first about what craftsmen the town still had. That, to him, was more important then beginning to sell his goods, and purchase others. His wagon was in sorry shape, and he was beginning to wonder if sled skis might not be a better investment then new wheels.

Isis it was never mentioned that it will taste good, but you must drink. You know what your mother said… it’s good for you.

“But mother doesn’t know I’m much better today…”

Until she clears you, you will still take your treatments.

“Yes father”

Time had passed since Isis’s encounter with the being. Needless to say, it had left her dazed, numbed, and dumbed. She had been found by three farmers, but she was in luck because they had recognized her even though at the moment she could barely remember her own name. However, she was much better now. The look in her father’s eyes was enough to have her wince in shame, well almost. She had worried them, both of her parents… disrespected them…gone against their wishes… put her life in jeopardy…caused them a lot of stress…yes, yes, alright.

“I have been planning to go for a walk father, a very short one. You need not worry, for it will just serve to stretch my legs...”

You will not Isis, you have walked enough.

“I’m sorry father but I just…”

I said no. Your mother will return soon, she left to gather leaves, err... herbs. You will make sure she finds you here when she returns, understood?

Isis nodded and watched her father leave for yet another day of toiling for food. She smiled and slipped out of her room. Having heard a couple of the younger girls talk about the strange weather, and even stranger things from the north, Isis could barely hide her curiousity. There was only one place where she would be able to get such information – the inn. For some reason, if anybody knew anything, chances were he or she had passed through there at least once. And… the townsfolk did gossip.

Thirty minutes later would find her deftly sneaking out of her house, clad in plain gray trousers, a shirt, and a light cloak; the hood was over her head just to keep inquisitive stares away. It wasn’t long until she reached the tavern, and as usual… there were the drunkards, the card players, the murmuring ones who actually knew much less than they thought they knew, and the ones who just didn’t fit under any category.

After sparing a glance at the barmaid who looked rather busy and dedicated to her tasks, Isis took a seat behind an empty table and rested her elbows upon it.

I swear to you, I give it but another month and you will be forced to leave your lands behind! Just like I have!

You must be drinking too much, this is Fanoria… tall tales I tell you, they are nothing but lies...

This man is a traveler, how dare you doubt his words!

A group of men were arguing back and forth. Isis smiled softly to herself; Yes, she certainly was at the right place at the right time for once.

OOC: Sorry for taking so long yet again... between life blowing up in my face and my muse apparently dieing, its been a rough week.

Tomankis, while I was originally going to have you and Tela start in the same town, seeing as she did not post by the deadline, I'm going to shift you over to the town Mina and Eolin are in. This should leave Isis and Rietha in their town.

IC:

For Eolin:

As you enter the tavern, you find yourself greeted with only a few patrons and a lone bartender, all of whom look haggard. This winter has obviously taken it's toll on the good people of the town. The tender makes his way to the end of the bar as you enter, and after you pay, a young man of no more than 15 years of age is sent to tend to your horses and feed them out in the stable. You, meanwhile, are given a hot bowl of what you would guess is supposed to be stew, though the mix isn't as thick as it would normally be.

"My apologies, traveler," he speaks in a slightly raspy voice, as if the cold air has left his throat raw. "But our farms and the game in this area used to be plentiful... It's getting to a point now that we're running low on food, so the brew isn't as good as it would normally be."

Giving a hearty cough, he turns away from you before making his way back to attending his duties.

At your mention of local craftsmen, one of the old men sitting at a nearby table waves you over. "There are only a few people of the craft left in our town... most have either died or fled the cold. There's a farrier and blacksmith, lives on a farm less than a league from here... There's also a woodworker what lives down the street, but you'll have to find him the wood to shape before he'll do ye much good, too cold and he's too old to brave these winds he'self."

For Tomankis:

It would be nearly two days later before you would wake, and you'd find yourself looking up into the face of an elderly woman, an obviously concerned look in her eyes. You've never seen her before... nor have you seen the room you're in. It would appear that sometime during your rest, you were move. Seeing you stir from your slumber, the woman speaks in a firm, but still somehow soft voice.

"Greetings, druid..." she says softly. "We were beginning to think you wouldn't pull through..."

Outside the window, you can see the sky is a bright blue, and while you still have a distinct feeling of a chill in the air, you can see no clouds or snow... No hint of the horror you fell asleep during.

For Rietha, Isis:

As Rietha hurries about her work and Isis sits quietly by, the conversations and arguments among patrons continue. Some men are all for believing the traveler's stories, others are completely against it and argue in a stubborn manner.

At one point, though, the oddly dressed man's eyes flicker first to Isis, and stay on the cloaked figure for a long time before he lifts his hand, motioning to Rietha as she goes bustling by. Once he has her attention, he speaks outloud, in a voice far more cultured than any you've heard save the few nobles who've passed by over the years. It can easily be heard from where Isis is sitting

"There is a girl in this town... who claims she has seen... things. Some say she's ill and not quite stable in her thoughts... would you be so kind as to direct me as to where I might find her?" Almost knowingly, however, those eyes of his flicker back to the cloaked figure sitting at one of the tables.

Rietha had just set down a couple of soup bowls and another with roasted chicken, when she noticed the strange man calling for her attention. Rietha grinned discreetly. Finally, a chance to sate her curiousity. Taking it without thinking twice, Rietha slipped her tray under her arm and nimbly glided towards him between the few men sitting by.

"There is a girl in this town... who claims she has seen... things. Some say she's ill and not quite stable in her thoughts... would you be so kind as to direct me as to where I might find her?"

Hmmm... His manner of speaking was definitely not that of a commoner, and again his possible links to nobility came up in Rietha's head. However, his interest for the Winbleys' girl was funny. Perhaps her stories were to be taken more seriously from now on, if this strange man showed interest on them. Who knows...

Rietha noticed the way he glanced at a cloaked figure nearby, though. She did likewise, and noticed the cloaked figure there. Somehow, Rietha had a feeling... well, she could find out after attending to this man. Rietha talked with a soft, kind voice, and which as much politeness as she could muster from her years of being a barmaid.

"Isis Winbley, I guess you mean? Their home is pretty close by. Just take the main road passing through our town, heading east, and when you reach its end look to your right. You should see a house there, apart from all others, with a garden surrounding it. That's the Winbleys'."

Now she was close to him, Rietha took advantage of the fact and surveyed the man, trying to see if she couldn't find out something else about him. She smiled down at him as she moved her tray to the front of her apron, and crossed her arms over it. "Will you have something before going there? Our ale is still good and cheap, compared to other towns, and the chicken is very good. The Winbleys sometimes sell herbs that give a special flavour to our food."

Movement was caught from the corner af her eye, but she was very slow to turn. Her gaze followed the barmaid, Rietha, as she was stopped by one man. In the past, the two girls hadn't but shared a couple of words. Isis was a free spirit, whilst Rietha had duties, whilst she worked the bar, the other was outside talking to plants. The reason she had ventured forth from her home to this place was because she felt very uneasy. Ignore the fact that she had been rather sick for the past months, her father had called her a babbling fool. Perhaps a lot of the townsfolk may have named her that as well, and that is what made her uneasy.

She was well, she was fine, the sickness no longer had a hold on her, and yet she was still convinced about what she almost saw that night. Maybe, by listening in on the latest gossip, she will discover things that might give her answers.

So when Rietha was stopped, she tugged on the hood over her head just enough so she could tilt her head and watch. The man had been audible enough, the implications of his words sent a shiver up the girl's spine. As soon as he turned, they had a split second of eye contact just as she was attempting to tear her gaze from him as quickly as possible. But then, the inevitable happened..

"Isis Winbley, I guess you mean? Their home is pretty close by. Just take the main road passing through our town, heading east, and when you reach its end look to your right. You should see a house there, apart from all others, with a garden surrounding it. That's the Winbleys'."

Gods... the woman had spilled it all. What happened to countrymen looking out for eachother? she thought. Who was this man? He did not even look like he belonged there. Normally, this scenario wouldn't have sparked fear at all, actually, she would have been so intrigued that a stranger were looking for her. Except now, after what she had been through, the girl was suspicious to say the least. Slowly, she would rise to her feet and slip out of the inn the same way she had came.

"Oh look.." one of the men commented on the stranger "...there goes another thrill-seeker. The Winbley's girl has damn near lost her mind, I am surprised her father hasn't locked her in her room just yet." a quiet chuckle left his lips "It is nothing but a waste of time listening to such nonsense"

A part of her was screaming at her to disappear for a while, the other told her to wait. Nobody, not even her own parents had heard her story; they had dismissed her like she were telling yet another fairytale. But with an inkling of luck, perhaps this man might just listen and believe her words.

Eolin accepts the food, having heard the same sad tale many a time in his travels, and had stopped trying to reassure the inn keeps that anything hot was a welcome treat. Instead eh just quietly thanked them, and began quickly consuming the would-be-stew.

Eating quickly, he was nearly done by the time the old man offered the information on the woodworker, and blacksmith. Gathering wood was a challenge in these times, and he began to consider looking for lumber himself. As likely there would be some strong boys in need of coin for their families to do the job for him, but knowingly sending anyone out into the forests sent a chill down his spine that the strew was unable to warm. He'd see what the blacksmith could do first.

“Thank you sir, I believe I'll try the blacksmith first, see what they can do for me, before venturing out for wood. Very kind of you.” He passed a copper piece to the man after he finished his bowl and rose from the table. After informing the inn keeper that he'd return shortly, and put a few small silver coins in the man's palm to 'thank him' in advance for some extra blankets, if they could be found tonight.

Eolin retrieved his cloak from the wall and bundled himself inside it before convincing himself to actually go back out there and face the snow and wind again. With a heavy sigh he quickly opened the doors, slipped through and brought it shut again, as fast as was practical. The team was fed and watered, and he thanked the boy with a copper for taking such care of them. By the time he returned everyone should count him as a very generous man, which made the subsequent deals go more smoothly; but burn him if he didn't feel like being generous to these people.

He headed toward the blacksmith, determined to get started on repairs as quickly as possible. The roads through town were better cleared then anywhere else, but once leaving the strict edges of the village, the way was again a slow crawl through fresh snow laying atop packed ice. After his heart nearly stopped twice from what he was sure would be a cracked wheel, he made it little worse for the ware to the blacksmith's shop. It looked deserted, except for a pathetic wisp of smoke drifting from the chimney. Climbing down, he went and knocked on the door. All his hope of getting back to the inn with his gods lay in whoever came to the door.

It would be nearly two days later before you would wake, and you'd find yourself looking up into the face of an elderly woman, an obviously concerned look in her eyes. You've never seen her before... nor have you seen the room you're in. It would appear that sometime during your rest, you were move. Seeing you stir from your slumber, the woman speaks in a firm, but still somehow soft voice.

"Greetings, druid..." she says softly. "We were beginning to think you wouldn't pull through..."

Outside the window, you can see the sky is a bright blue, and while you still have a distinct feeling of a chill in the air, you can see no clouds or snow... No hint of the horror you fell asleep during.

Tomankis' whole body hurt. He'd been fleeing the cold for so long, it seemed, he had been nearly frozen to the core. If he hadn't had his wolf's fur cloaks, he'd probably not have made it.

"Thank you," he said to the woman, haltingly. He had so much to tell her about the cold, the snows, the beasts that he had run from, but he did not have the words to tell her all at once what he knew, what he feared was coming this way.

"Where am I?" he asked, wondering if the answer would mean anything to him. It didn't. He knew nothing of the world of men, their cities and laws, their customs and ways.

The soup the woman brought for him didn't have much to it, but at least it was hot, and the warmth did enough to fill him for a bit. After he finished slurping it all down, he found the strength to swing his legs over and put his feet on the ground. The hard wood beneath his feet was cold. He saw his few possessions folded neatly next to the bed he'd been sleeping in. He slid on his pants and shirt. He felt a bit claustrophobic, so he gathered his things, strapping his belts on, his father's sword in its sheathe, safely on his back.

He needed to speak to whoever had saved him. He opened the bedroom door and looked around.

As Mina sat and thought of the continuous winter and snow in front of her slowly diminishing fire she heard a knock at her door. She jumped where she sat and her heart raced. It could be a neighbor with kind words, need for help, or a warm meal, but as things were going it could be harsh words, and cold metal in her skin before she could even retaliate. Her heart raced, she was getting more paranoid as the days got colder. She always feared the worst these days.

She got up, taking her cloak off and putting a dagger in the pocket of her pants. And a knife in the sheath on her wasit. She looked out the small window and saw an unfamilar man with his cart and horses, they looked harmless, but she didnt want to say they werent until she knew for sure, and she wasnt going to take another beggar asking for a blacksmith and no money. She used to not mind charity work but those were good days, when the times were good and warm.

She cracked the door and poked her head out feeling the beating cold of winter. The wind whipped her hair and nipped her face. She looked at the man with a harsh but soft look, she tryed to look intimidating but with her looks these days, she was a half-starved, freezing farrier.
"who are you...what do you want...i wont work for free...."
She got right to the point, she put her hand in her pocket holding the dagger. Her lip quivered in the cold waiting his reply.

The woman’s hurried and pointed comments took Eolin by surprise, and he took a step back. He showed his hands, so she could see they were empty, though it pained him to let them out of the cloak; the wind had a nasty bite.

He chose to carefully answer the woman that seemed less friendly then the town’s folk at the inn. “My name is Eolin, I’m a traveling merchant. I was told you’re a blacksmith, and I have need of one. I can pay. I mean no harm; just a man in need of your services. If there is a place to get the horses, and ourselves out of the elements, perhaps we can talk price and work?”

He folded his hands back into his cloak to pull it tight around him to block the wind. He looked at the girl, who had obviously seen better days, with both eagerness and concern. If she was this frightened of people, there was little telling what she would do. The fact someone didn’t trust you typically meant trusting them was equally difficult to do.

She saw him step back and show his hands. She didnt mean to scare him, he was a good man. She felt bad, the winter was changing her too. She never acted this way, she was usually quiet and kind. Her muscles relaxed and she took her hand out of her pocket. She grabbed her cloak and her keys. She stepped outside with the man, her hair being blown around and her cloak not doing much to keep her warm.
She shut her door and looked up at him.
"we can bring your horses and cart into my stable and then we can talk."

She took his horses leading them towards the back towards her stable, they looked so cold and so did he. She took note of his cart and the horses hooves. She unlocked the barn and pryed the doors open, unhitching his horses putting them into stalls.
"I'm sorry, i have nothing to feed them, i havent unlocked the barn in some time..."She trailed off not wanting to think about the death of her horses.
She left his cart in the barn.
"come inside my home where it's slightly warmer."
and she started to head back towards her home as the wind almost knocked her over.

“Quite alright, they were just fed, and while I don't think any of us as in danger of getting too plump these days, it's tell best not to spoil the creatures.” He patted and rubbed the blaze of each of his animals once they were inside the stables, and obviously more comfortable.

He followed her inside, and was grateful to be out of the elements. “Thank you miss.” He tried to shake off the cold, and was partly successful, then extended his hand toward the girl. “Again, the name is Eolin, a pleasure to meet you. As you can see I am in need of a blacksmith and farrier; maybe a miracle worker too,” he chuckled at his own joke.

“Those wheels need new bands, at the very least. It seems crafting new ones would entail hunting the wood myself, from what the townsfolk say. But in any case these ones need work, as do the horses hooves. This weather has not been any kinder to the roads then it has to the towns they connect.”

He pulled out a small bag of coins, to show that he really could pay. He set it on the table, and wondered how to play this out. The girl looks so miserable, he almost hoped she'd drive a hard bargain. He came in the door figuring he'd be at a disadvantage, seeing as how desperate his situation was. But now he figured this woman had a hard time getting enough to eat, and might agree to anything. From the highly rationed amount of wood on the fire, he figured the coin purse he'd just set down was more money then this house had seen in months.

She brought Eolin inside and she took her cloak off. She took her hair and tied it back into a bun with a piece of string. She turned and shook his hand, he was strong.
"Nice to meet you Eolin, my name is Mina...and i'm sorry for my hostility earlier; thats not my usual disposistion. And i'd offer you something warm to drink or eat but..." and she sighed looking around her home, letting him realize she really didnt have anything left anymore.


He told her, what he needed and she nodded. She saw it all when she brought the cart and horses in. She wasnt sure how she'd be able to do it all, since starting a fire was quite hard, but she had a few ideas.

She saw the bag of coins and her jaw dropped. The most she had was a few bronze pieces and maybe a couple silver pieces and that was for emergencies. She stared at it for a minute and looked back at him.
"we can establish price later...right now, i need to get new horse shoes, for your team and i can fix the bands, and the cracks in your wheels, i'll just reinforce them with a piece of steel, it will work for awhile but as soon as you can you'll need a craftsmen."
She paused and thought for a moment as she pulled on a pair of what looks like chaps, strapping them around her legs and grabbing her cloak again.
"If you'd like you can stay here and keep warm while i work, unless you feel the need to watch me work."
And she walked out to the barn taking out one of his horses, placing a blanket on it and walking it towards her forge as she started a fire to eat things, and started to take off the horses shoes and file his feet to even things out.

He left the coins where they were, and moved to help her with the horses. “I may as well lend a hand where I can, it's not like I'll be returning to down without wheels; I honestly believe I just barely made it here.”

He walked with her, patting his animals as they were led inside. He just stood by and ensure the horses remained calm while she worked on them. They were remarkably well mannered beasts; their demeanor made up for any lacking in speed over the roads. But it was not all good nature that had them so subdued, he knew; it was the long trips and ever colder nights. They were too tied to be nervous around a new person, and so was he.

He watched the girl work, staying out of her way and helping move the animals when needed. “You're quiet apt at your craft m'lady. I've seen much larger, warmer men work with clumsy hands by comparison. Myself included. I'm afraid I must confess to any mess with their hooves you find there. I did the best I could on the road when they kick a shoe off. I think I manage to prevent much splitting, but I count that as a gift from above. I'm sure the boys here prefer your skilled hands to mine.”

He was just making small talk, but it was all also true. “This a family trade?”

She continued working, fixing the horses hooves and giving them new shoes. The coals were blazing and provided some warmth as she worked. Banging away on the metals to help shape them better to the animal's foot. She heard his compliment and smiled, most men would say that this job be left to a man, not a woman.
"Thank you sir, and please just call me Mina, i'm no fancy lady. And their feet look healthy, damaged by the snow and rocks but nothing bad. You take good care of your horses, well atleast their feet."

She heard his next question and she paused putting her file away after finnishing the last hoof of the second horse. Her voice changed towns, a more serious and slightly uncomfortable tone.
"It was a family trade...my father taught me everything before he passed away. But i have no husband...which means no children, so it ends with me."
She moved and grabbed a jar with a dark slightly thick liquid and a paint brush.
"If their hooves get spilt, or dry and cracked paint this on them and it will help."
And she handed it to them and grabbed thick blankets and layed them over the horses. And led them back to the barn putting them into stalls again.