Tale Eight, H'aanit
Within the Darkwood, any sound indicating civilization was lost to the towering trees that shelter the Woodland from the sun. These pines, teeming with beasts ranging from the most mundane to the exceedingly rare, shelter this land from the imposing forces of humanity. Even those who live within the wood tend to follow the old ways of hunters, living in small villages where the meekest utterances of society reverberate without echoing from the trees. Though, when approaching one of these villages, few will be privy to sounds of a babbling brook with the hunters living in peace beside their animal companions. Celebrations, drink, bountiful food and furs would greet the visitor after a glorious hunt. Such a time was occurring now, as the dull murmurs of travelers and the thumping of music flowed from the village of S'warkii's tavern.
Inside, the huntress H'aanit, her leopard companion Linde, and her master's faithful wolf Hagen sat around the sole fireplace of the tavern with three of their new companions. They soaked in the warmth, while enjoying their spiced hard cider.
"'Tis not oft we receiven visitors," the huntress began after partaking in her drink. "Moreso when said visitors wouldst aiden a hunter in a hunt. I thanken thee."
H'aanit bowed her head shortly in thanks, while Linda and Hagen gave a soft glance akin to gratitude.
"Of course, H'aanit, we were glad to help," Ophilia replied, a gentle smile highlighting her features.
"A fellow warrior was in need – still is in need. Never would I turn away from someone who would follow a path such as yours and requests aid," Olberic added in, raising his mug to the huntress.
"Besides, those ruins had few secret stashes to scour through," Therion commented, smirking underneath his scarf.
"Thou wouldst beholden to return such relics to the wood," H'aanit chastised for the umpteenth time that day, unpleased by the thief's actions.
"No one's using them, even Feather thought it was a good idea, Wildling."
"And why the names?"
"It's how I am with everyone. Makes it easier to remember all of you," Therion answered, poking his temple lightly. He pointed to Olberic and Ophilia. "Even got names for these two: Mountain and Saint."
The warrior sighed. "It's true, though I fear I am not as big of a mountain as you say I am."
"Oh, come on. You are built like one, your demeanor is like one, and you have the strength to stand up to anything I can think of." Therion listed each trait on his fingers as he spoke. "You are a mountain."
"I have to agree, Sir Olberic," Ophilia affirmed, still referring to the warrior by title. "You are quite strong."
"That may be, but to resort to such paltry nicknames?" the warrior questioned.
"I musten agree with our companions," H'aanit chimed in, a small smile on her face and blush indicating she had finished her mug of cider. "Thou ist a strong man, claime as such, warrior. Baren it proudly!"
Olberic sighed. "At this juncture, it seems I have no choice."
"Comen now, thou art one of the strongest men I haven met. 'Tis a grande name for an equally grande man," H'aanit affirmed before standing up to fetch another drink for her and the warrior, taking his mug with her.
Though chalking it up to drunk ramblings, Olberic could not help but watch after the huntress as she confidently – though swaying slightly – walked up to the barkeep. The alcohol was beginning to take effect, expounding upon the two drinks she had already consumed. Even then, the warrior couldn't help but smile at her words, accepting the praise where he wouldn't from his other companions.
An audible growl broke him from his wonderings.
Olberic turned his gaze to Linde, who was staring threateningly at him, baring her teeth. Beside her, the wolf, Hagen, appeared to have an amused look, almost seeming like he was smirking. In turn, the warrior stared down the leopard, seeing a challenge in her eyes. What said challenge was about, he did not know.
"Looks like someone's jealous," Therion snickered. "Careful, Mountain, you may have angered the cat."
The thief's laughter was cut short as Ophilia gently smacked his shoulder. "Come now, Therion. Do not joke about these things so openly."
While she chastised her companion, both of them knew that she was just as curious about Olberic's glances as Therion was. Ophilia seemed to not have any keen interest in the relationship of others in this manner, yet when she drank, her curiosity would get the best of her. As of now, said curiosity was starting to swell up inside of her, though she could contain it for the time being. Enough so to put an end to Therion's teasing.
"Whatever you mean, I feel it was a jab at my demeanor," Olberic commented scrupulously. "However, that is not my intention, I was just pleased with her words."
"And having the chance to stare at her backside," the thief added in between another snicker before breaking into full laughter, almost causing him to fall out of his chair and lose his third drink in the fireplace.
This time, Ophilia flicked the thief's temple, again trying to calm him down.
Recoiling at the strike, Therion held up his hands, hoping to stave off the onslaught from the cleric. "Ow! Okay, okay! I stopped laughing."
Relenting, Ophilia huffed, "You know, you can be quite crude after you have had your share of drink, Therion."
Recovering, the thief replied, "Now, now, Saint, that can be most men. Hells, I'm sure even Doc can get like this if you give him enough mead."
At the insinuation, Ophilia blanched before her cheeks were alit like a fire. Quickly moving to cover her face, the cleric began shaking her head, trying to get Therion's words out of her head.
"D-don't say such things!"
"What? Can't besmirch the good name of your Sir Apothecary, can I?" Therion smirked before taking a victory drink of his cider.
"That's n-not it!" Ophilia squirmed.
"What ist going on here?" H'aanit inquired of Olberic as she took her seat by the fire once more.
"I am unsure myself. Thank you," the warrior replied as he was handed his second mug of cider, forgoing drinking too much for the time being. "If Lady Primrose or Professor Albright were here, and not looking at the flora in the forest with the others, I am sure they could provide us insight."
"That they could. Mayhaps later."
The huntress raised her glass to the warrior. He blinked, before seeing the offer of companionship and smiling. As they would many times in the near future, H'aanit and Olberic clinked their mugs together, drinking the spiced cider greedily while their fellows argued amongst each other: Therion teasing and Ophilia scrambling to refute.
As the group settled not much later, they heard the door swing open with a sudden bang, garnering the attention of every patron at the tavern.
It did not take long for the affronting patron to walk in through the threshold, and when he did, Ophilia gasped.
She knew this man, from his hefty build to his stomping leather boots. While he wore an unreadable, near-threatening expression covered by a grand beard, the air around him was anything but hostile. As he had in Flamesgrace, he garnered the attention of everyone in the tavern. Thankfully, the cleric noticed, he had forgone jumping through one of the windows, as he had in Atlasdam according to Cyrus. Eyes following his movements, some showed hints of recognition, including the barkeep, who produced a bottle of ale twice the size of a pint for him. In response, the man placed a fistful of leaves on the bar and mumbled something to the smiling barkeep.
Teller then turned around, searching expectantly for someone. Based off of his prolific ways, Ophilia had a feeling she knew who he was scanning the room for. Shortly after, her suspicions were confirmed as she saw the man's eyes light up and the atmosphere around him sprinkled with hints of intrigue. He walked over to the four companions.
"Who's that old geezer, and why is coming towards us like we're friends or something?" Therion commented to no one in particular, cautiously sizing up the man as he approached them.
Ophilia, not taking her eyes off of the bard, responded. "That's Teller, the bard."
"That guy is this so-called seer you've been talking about?" the thief questioned in disbelief.
"Yes."
"Ah, this is Teller. I know of this man. Those in Cobbleston have spoken of him many times, but they simply called him Bard," Olberic added, thinking on the villagers' descriptions of the man. "That is most definitely him. A fortune teller from what words I have heard."
It was then that the man had taken the last remaining seat next to the fireplace, in between H'aanit and Olberic.
Before speaking, his lips met with those of his bottle of ale. Drinking the contents to the neck, he released the drink and let loose a loud, satisfied sigh. "A tale cannot begin without good drink, nor such an entrance. Aye, Miss Ophilia?"
Chuckling at the greeting so reminiscent of their first, the cleric nodded her head. "That it can't. A pleasure to see you again, Teller."
"Same to you, miss. Same to you. Ah!"
Just then, the bard and traveling companions noticed the wolf, Hagen, nudging Teller's hand, licking it interminably. "Hagen, 's that you? Why, it is the little pup! Where is your master, hm? He owes me quite the drink after our last meetin'."
Despite his missing master, Hagen barked happily, glad to see a familiar face from outside of S'warkii. All while the bard was playing with the wolf and spoiling him some drops of ale, H'aanit watched, confusion clearly etched on her face.
"Thou knowest, Master?" the huntress inquired, excitement coursing through her at the thought. "Wouldst thou knowest where he ist!?"
His attention turning away from Hagen, the mirth around them seemed to disappear as Teller gave the wolf one last rub behind his ears. "Nay, young H'aanit. I do not. Though, I have an inkling, 'tis not my place to say. 'S not my part in the tale to tell."
"But, why not?" she questioned quietly, a soft anger building inside of her, echoed by Linde's quieter growling.
"I am a bard, mighty huntress. I tell stories after they have been told by those involved. Though some call me a prophet, I cannot change the stories that are to be spun. My apologies."
Humming to herself, trying to calm her inner fire, H'aanit then sighed, letting loose her pint up emotions. "I… understand. 'Tis not thoust place to tellen his whereabouts. Duty, then?"
"Aye, one could say that."
"Then, I shallst honor it."
"My thanks. Now, then. Who is next?"
Turning his attention, and his attitude around in a matter of seconds, Teller scanned the man sitting to his left.
"Ah, a mighty warrior. You've the shape, the air, the garb. Mind me, are you a knight of Hornburg?"
The warrior was taken aback by his guess. "That I am. You know of Hornburg?"
Teller seemed to cackle in amusement. "That I do, then you must be Sir Olberic, the Unbending Blade I tell so many tales about."
"My deeds are not so grand to be passed down in legend," Olberic responded uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck.
"But they are, though to avoid embarrassment, I digress. Not much time is had, so on to our last."
Again, the bard turned his attention away from Olberic to Therion, who still eyed him scrupulously. "Oh, such mistrust in those eyes. May I ask your name?"
"Therion," he replied evenly.
"Not Therion the legendary thief who is neigh uncatchable?" Teller took notice of the fool's bangle. "'Til now, 'twould seem."
Therion's squinting eyes were enough to tell the bard he had hit a sore spot. "Not for long, old geezer."
"Hidin' behind nicknames, as well? My, the stories you must have to tell!"
"Watch it."
"That I shall," Teller relented happily. "Strong, capable companions for an equally strong, capable woman. You have found the rest, Miss Ophilia?"
Ophilia, watching the interactions intently, grinned. "That they are, and that I have, Teller."
"Ah, yes. The scholar, the merchant, the dancer, and the apothecary. Excellent," Teller listed off knowingly, giving him the air of the seer that many saw him as. He took a drink from his bottle. "Take care of that kindling relationship with the apothecary."
Unlike Therion's insinuations, Teller's only caused a light blush to rise to Ophilia's cheeks and warmth to spread from her heart. "I will."
Therion grinned cheekily. "Knew it."
"And you watch your words with the dancer, she has as sharp a tongue as her family dagger and her history," Teller retorted playfully, coming to the defense of the cleric. "Be mindful of her, Mister Therion. She may have a rough outside, but inside, she hurts."
Though being played against, the thief's eyes softened, seemingly understanding and feeling a connection to Teller's meaning. All that indicated he had heeded those words was a sound of affirmation.
The bard, in turn nodded. "All of you have a story to tell, and a place in each other's stories. Your tales will shape Orsterra in more ways than you can imagine. Remember your tales as you move through them, where they begin and where they end. For as you move through them, they become just that: tales. Legends. The past. When you're living your tales, you don't know they are such. Enjoy them, my friends."
Appearing out of nowhere and seemingly leaving soon after must have been a part of Teller's persona, Ophilia realized. For no longer had he settled in, greeting Hagen, then did he rise from his chair, finishing his drink with a might gulp. Just as the bard had when the cleric met him in Flamesgrace. He rubbed his forearm past his beard, ridding it of any remaining drink clinging to his whiskers.
"For now, I must be off. Other matters call me, 'm sure ye all understand, aye?" Teller explained with a wink. "Fare thee well, friends. We'll meet in the near future, and I hope yer journeys are as I predicted. After all, I've still yer tales to tell."
"You're just going to up and leave, then?" Therion questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Aye. It's my way o' things, Mister Therion. Travel well with each other. 'Til next we meet."
Leaving his words of wisdom with the group, Teller made for the door, nodding to the barkeep, who returned it. Ophilia knew what was to come next. Quickly, the barkeep and his small staff passed out the drinks that Teller had graciously paid for, replacing the empty mugs the traveling companions held in their hands.
"Free drinks? Old Geezer's not half bad," Therion commented happily.
"A generous man. But how he knowst master, I cannot say," H'aanit chimed in thoughtfully. "Hagen, hath you any words to speaketh?"
In response, the wolf laid back down, unable to answer the huntress.
"Seems not."
"That man is a mystery," Olberic pondered. "As you have said Ophilia, he is quite the character. Almost prophetic, a seer. He raises more questions than answers. Should we be wary of such a man that seems to know our futures?"
Ophilia shook her head. "I believe he has the best of intentions for us. He is a guide. His words led me to all of you, so for now, I trust what he has to say."
"Trustful words. I hope they art such," their newest companion spoke.
"We shall see," Therion mused, thoughts still on the bard's words pertaining to him.
"Aye," Olberic agreed thoughtfully.
The cleric nodded before raising her mug. "For now, I believe he is a friend. It is for that reason this next drink is for Teller."
"Here, here!"
The companions rose their mugs together in friendship, moving their relationships forward, just as Teller had wished for them.
Mysterious circumstances could bring the most unlikely of companions together. However, sometimes, it was such circumstances that need be met to forge such necessary bonds. Now, as all eight companions had finally come together, they would move forward as friends. Destinies intertwined, the four companions in the tavern, as well as those wandering the Darkwood, would share tales of themselves from this journey and their past ventures.
All would be told around the fires of a foreign hearth and warmth of a friendly drink.
Finally had all the companions met, forging quickly bonds that would evolve into something more than fellow travelers.
The huntress, H'aanit, and her animal companions brought with them another adventure to search for her lost master.
Another weight added to the shoulders of these adventurers, but another shoulder to share the weight.
Yet these journeys would help them discover more about themselves than they could ever say, with the help of their fellows – no, their friends.
Orsterra would bare witness to their exploits, and hold legends of such for years to come.
And it all started with a young cleric, a chalice of mulled wine, and some company provided by a certain bard.
Now together, we can begin the legendary tale of the Octopath Travelers…
…from tavern to tavern…
~ Teller ~