Therion lightly touches his bound wound. The bandaging held well, but the snow had soaked a bit into it. He recalls that Alfyn said to try and keep it dry. The thief frowns, now wondering how the idiot apothecary is doing out there in the cold.
Linde managed to lead the thief and warrior to a nearby crevice in the face of a low mountain. It provides enough shelter from the raging winds and snow outside. Olberic carried H'aanit in and laid her down, using his duffel as an ad hoc pillow for her head so she doesn't simply lie on the cold stone floor. Even with the shelter from the wind, the mountain stone is a poor insulator for heat, and their breathing comes out in white puffs of steam. Linde curls protectively about the huntress.
Olberic rubs his hands together and tries to warm them with his breath, "Therion, we should start a fire..."
"With what?" The thief glances around at the obvious lack of tinder.
"Hang on..." Olberic sifts about his bag, trying not to disturb H'aanit's head. He produces a tinderbox, as something from his camping essentials that he carried around as a habit since his cadet days. The tinderbox comes with some flint and fluff. He spreads the fluff on the ground and looks for anything else flammable in his pack.
Therion raises an eyebrow as Olberic resorts to cutting off spare areas of the furs to add to the pile for ignition.
"... This should do," Olberic exhales.
"It's gonna smell, just saying," Therion scoffs as he takes out his knife. Taking the flint from Olberic, he makes a spark in one go. The fluff ignites but seems to smolder.
The thief clicks his tongue and focuses on the flames. It's far more difficult to affect a flame not in his hand, like with his knife. But since it's so cold, he isn't keen on possibly shattering his dagger again due to the temperature difference. A smaller flame might also be easier to try and control.
Olberic watches as the fire slowly grows and Therion's face of concentration beads with sweat. After the fire slowly spreads and burns bright enough to be left alone, Therion exhales and leans back against the cave wall. He pants a little.
"... Impressive," Olberic says quietly.
"Shut up..." Therion mumbles and slightly pats his sealed wound.
"Did your injury get aggravated?" The warrior asks, "I do have some bandages..."
"It's fine," The thief says tersely. It felt like the wound was swelling a little, and it dully aches. However, he doesn't see any blood in the light of the fire.
"... I do fear how the others must be faring..." Olberic glances over his shoulder to the unconscious H'aanit, "We don't have the slightest idea when we may continue traveling."
"..." Therion doesn't say anything to voice concern. Alfyn is an ice gate... but that doesn't mean anything. Gate affinities don't make them any less human. A fire gate can still be burned like a normal man.
"Unh..."
"Hmm? H'aanit?" Olberic turns to look.
"Rowr..." Linde purrs worriedly and licks her face.
"... Linde...? Where..." H'aanit winces and suddenly sits up, "Wheren be Ophilia?"
"Calm down, we were all separated... unfortunately," Olberic sighs, "You were knocked unconscious..."
H'aanit shakes a bit of the numb, cold, and sore feeling off, "I am alright. We musten finden the others in haste..."
"The storm's still out there," Therion scoffs, "So, if you want to freeze to death, go ahead."
H'aanit narrows her eyes at the thief.
"What Therion means to say is ... that we ought to gather our own strength first, before we risk ourselves out there..." Olberic interjects, "As much as it is painful to admit... we do no favors to anyone running out there and freezing ourselves."
H'aanit looks like she wants to protest. Linde gives her a quiet growl and she seems to reconsider.
"Are you hurt?" Olberic looks her over.
"... Nay... Merely... Sore, mayhap," H'aanit sighs and rubs her side a little, "Tis unpleasant, tumblen in snow."
"Perhaps you did hit something then. But I luckily see no blood."
While Olberic seems to give H'aanit a look over, Therion keeps his eyes outward toward the freak weather outside. If he thought the occasional dust storms or flash flood in the Cliftlands were bad, he was mistaken.
"... Be the storm letten up?" H'aanit asks hopefully.
"Slow your roll," The thief hears the whistling of the winds, even if he doesn't get a face full of the brunt, "It's still howling out there."
"Rowr... Rowrr!" Linde snarls a little at H'aanit.
"It seems Linde wants you to consider your health as well," Olberic smiles a little, "Worry not... our companions are far from helpless babes themselves... Lady Ophilia is one from the snows here, no? And I believe I have some food. We need to maintain our strength."
"... Aye..." H'aanit sighs in resignation.
...
Within the icy cavern, Ophilia lights the way ahead tentatively. Cyrus warned of possible traps that temples used to keep away robbers and such. They see signs of old, broken weapons and armors. But what interests Cyrus the most is the structure antiquity.
"Fascinating..." Cyrus looks at the stonework, "The engravings are not fully eroded by time... Unfortunately, they are distorted enough that I cannot glean what they once were..."
"This looks kinda like a big circle..." Alfyn stands beside Cyrus, looking at the opposing wall.
"Ya dolt, a circle could mean anything," Tressa sighs, "No value in a place that doesn't even make itself out to be well... anything."
"Have you noticed that it's not terribly cold in here?" Ophilia points out, "Our breath still does fog, but..."
"Huh... Yeah!" Alfyn glances up at the ceiling, "Not too many icicles at all, unlike where we crashed in..."
"Perhaps there is some heat source? Geothermal vents... magic?" Cyrus gets to hypothesizing.
"Say, Ophilia, did these places usually have treasure or something?" Tressa looks to the cleric, "Like, really amazing, mind-blowing stuff, maybe?"
"Hmm... Well, in the Cave of Origin, that was where I had taken the Lanthorn..." Ophilia pats the sacred object hanging at her waist, "I don't know too much about holy relics beside that... Regalia and such were usually stories the Knights Ardante fancied."
"Phooey," Tressa sighs, "Makes me wish this was a temple of Bifelgan."
"I do believe this to be a temple of Aelfric, for certain," Cyrus gestures at more distorted carvings, "The circle with the radial lines... it is a common motif of light and its reach. There must have been a flame in the center here..."
"Looks like a sconce!" Alfyn looks where Cyrus points to a worn indent in the wall.
"I'm surprised you know what word that is," Tressa mumbles on the side.
"The god of light and warmth... Mayhaps some of the old protections remain here, and we were luckily taken into its shelter?" Cyrus muses.
"Thank the Flame, indeed..." Ophilia sighs.
"... Huh?" Alfyn looks in towards the deeper part of the ruin, "This place sure goes in deep!"
"Indeed... It is a very narrow temple structure," Cyrus folds his arms, "I do think I can glimpse the end, though..."
Sure enough, they walk a few more paces and find a sort of broken altar before a desecrated wall. This portion of the temple yields particularly obvious destruction, rather than simple erosion. Something deliberately smashed this altar and broke the wall behind it. The wall's broken portion reveals a large, hollow darkness beyond. Here, the icy chill seeps in prominently, contrasting with the rest of the temple so far. Additionally, there are bones scattered about in fragmented pieces, strewn about the floor along with the rubble.
"W-woah...!" Alfyn whispers, "Something big came through here...!"
Cyrus looks mildly perturbed at the finding. He immediately kneels down by the altar and the debris scattered by whatever impact broke everything.
"Uhh... m-maybe we shouldn't be here after all..." Tressa says nervously.
"What could have done this?" Ophilia goes to help Cyrus decipher whatever she can.
"Hmm... mayhaps we were too hasty to decide this was a temple..." Cyrus frowns, "It is indeed a sacred space... but it might, in actuality, be a tomb of sorts..."
"Eh? A tomb ... like a burial ground for some dead person?" Alfyn tilts his head, "I mean... makes sense with the bones..."
"Are those even human, Alf?" Tressa pokes one fractured skull tentatively.
"I'm sure you all have heard of Tytos, the Hero?" Cyrus looks to the others.
"Yes... He led the Scarlet Wings in a crusade against the evil apothecary, Velnorte, I believe..." Ophilia says tentatively, "The cathedral of Emberglow was a project he had spearheaded."
"Doesn't ring a bell..." Alfyn shakes his head.
"Honestly, just tell us the gist already, Cyrus," Tressa rolls her eyes.
"I believe this to be his tomb, succinctly put," Cyrus points at a space behind the altar, partially buried in rubble, "The motifs on the walls, since we cannot decipher them in full, are likely of Aelfric's church, but they could also very well be funeral rite engravings. Aelfric's light was often seen as a guide to those who have passed to seek a better afterlife. For a hero like Tytos, this would certainly be an apt resting place, fitted with such grandeur and structure."
"But... It's not that grand," Tressa folds her arms, "It's like someone just up and forgot about it, if anything. Wouldn't people take better care of their heroes or something?"
"Well, it is possible that it fell into lost memory, much like how even the temples of gods fell into disrepair following the movements of populations. Emberglow is, for example, no longer a town many cartographers outside the Frostlands even put on a map, despite the impressive cathedral there," Cyrus lets out a soft chuckle, "It is an unfortunate thing... but even heroes will be forgotten."
"Part of it is the tragedy that befell Emberglow..." Ophilia sighs, "People tend to tread away from such places."
"Hmm..." Tressa blows a tuft of hair out of her face.
"But this ain't just disrepair. Something just about smashed this thing to bits!" Alfyn says, "That's gotta be weird."
"That is an excellent observation," Cyrus stands and dusts his pants off, "I see that there is indeed even a death mask motif here... So, this is very likely a tomb. Whether it was Tytos or not, the writing is far too eroded. Perhaps bandits sought to pilfer the place... Though that does not explain the extent of damage wrought here..."
By Cyrus' feet, Ophilia glimpses the mask motif he speaks of. It's a stone carving of a man's resting face, likely having used a casted mold from when the person was alive. It's an expensive service, so it is likely the person buried here must truly have been of repute...
"What about here, Cy?" Alfyn points up at the wall's edge above the gaping hole, "I see some letters intact. I... P... ATOR...?"
"By Brand's Thunder, you're right!" Cyrus looks up as well and squints, tilting his head, "I... M... Imperator...? Hm. Interesting."
There is a sudden and loud bellow from within the dark hole in the wall. The four of them scramble back a few paces in alarm. The sheer force behind that sound seems to shake the foundation a bit. Scattered dust and small crumbles of debris are loosened and clatter down.
"Guess whatever made the mess' found us...!" Alfyn grips his axe.
"W... what was that?" Tressa balks, ready to make a run for it, "L-Let's go back the way we came!"
"That... might be prudent... but we also don't know if we will be pursued..." Cyrus swallows.
Ophilia merely keeps her eyes trained on the darkness before her. The air around is disturbed as something begins to move with such magnitude that the ground itself trembles.
From the inky darkness beyond the reach of Ophilia's staff, a single, large, orang eye stares out at them suddenly. The bellow becomes like that of a trumpet sounding for war.
"GWWWOOOOOOONNNNN!"
"Oh dear."
...
"Did you hear something?"
Simeon opens his eyes a little and glances around in their dark enclosure.
"No... I don't believe so..."
There is a sudden rumble. Snow shakes loose from the ceiling of their enclosure, but only Prim can really see it.
"... Another avalanche...?" The dancer whispers, holding tighter to Simeon.
"It doesn't feel like it... Such a happening would have continuous tremors, perhaps..." Simeon strains to hear, "It sounds a bit better out there, at least..."
"... I'm probably just worried," Prim sighs.
"For your companions? They seem like capable people," Simeon chuckles softly.
"Hmm... Oh," Primrose blinks, "I forgot to tell Alfyn... about his friend in Atlasdam."
"Hm? A friend of his?"
"Yes, the librarian, Mercedes. She is from his town," Primrose lifts her head off Simeon's shoulder and stretches a little, "They were childhood friends."
"Aah, a sweetheart, even?"
"No, nothing like that..." Primrose sighs and glances out their little window into the night, "The snow seems to have ceased a bit..."
There is another loud noise, this time making even Simeon jump. Their little snow enclosure starts to fall apart as they feel the snow dropping onto them from tremors that now shake their vicinity.
"What in the world?" Simeon yelps, "We must get out before we are buried!"
From the outside, one can see a bit of snow shift and then collapse. Two figures stand shortly after it falls. The snow reaches to their waists.
"... Ah, we were not as deeply buried as I had thought," Simeon says with relief.
"Indeed... Fortunate," Primrose glances around them to see the moonlight glistening on the white landscape, "What was that...?"
"Ah, look!"
Simeon points to what seems to be light from a fire. It moves. A torch. They see it against the shadow of the nearby mountain face.
"Hello?!" They hear a familiar, stern voice call, "Alfyn?! Cyrus?!"
"Ophilia?!" The familiar voice of the huntress can also be heard.
"Olberic! H'aanit!" Primrose calls to them, making sure to stand outside the massive mountain's shadow so they can see her better, "We're here!"
Linde bounds forth first toward them. She gives a slight growl and purr back to the others. Primrose sees Therion approach with Olberic and H'aanit. They all looked alright after that avalanche. No blood or obvious injury, at least.
"Thank the gods!" Olberic sighs, "Hm? It's just you two?"
"The others aren't with you?" Primrose frowns, "Oh dear, we are more separated than I thought..."
"Tsk... Linde, hath thee any scent?" H'aanit looks to the leopard.
"Had you all also felt and heard that... strangely loud and tremulous thundering earlier?" Simeon glances around.
"Aye... Twas what spurred us to come looking. We feared for the worst," Olberic looks about the scenery with worry creasing his brow, "I do fervently hope the other four are alright..."
Therion glances to see Linde trot off a little over a drift. The thief follows.
"Hm? She hath something founde?" H'aanit goes after them.
"..." The others follow now, with various degrees of worry on their faces.
Therion holds his torch higher when he sees the leopard come to a stop. Linde growls lowly, bristling a bit at what lies before her. The thief can see with his torch that they stand before a large, cavernous opening. The top rim is lined with stalagmites and icicles, almost like the teeth to a dark, gaping maw.
"... Charming," Therion says sarcastically.
A bellow, though not as loud as the last, echoes from within the depths beyond the reach of his torchlight. The impact of the sound itself seems to shake the overhanging ice and bits scatter downward.
"Linde!" H'aanit slides down the drift, "Whatten doth thou sensen within... Ophilia?"
"Rrowr..." Linde nods, though still quite on guard.
"So they go stuck with something in there? Figures," Therion clicks his tongue.
"We musten goen after them!" H'aanit goes to run forward.
Therion rolls his eyes a little. Olberic, Simeon, and Primrose come running now just to see the huntress run in. Another roaring bellow rattles around.
"... Come on!" Olberic charges as well without need for explanation.
Primrose sees the thief's reluctance at running in blind.
"Better than being buried in an avalanche out here," Primrose gives a resigned smile.
The thief sighs and follows at last.
...
The inner depths of the cave reveal that it is not entirely a natural structure. It actually has several walls that have practically molded into the natural stone and ice, but it clearly still resembles the lain stone of a former castle wall. There are even steps and arches that are intact, bridging over crevasses. The temperature in here is not as chilly as out in the snows. Thin sheets of steam rise from some water that runs through this ruin.
"Incredible, it's an underground spring...!" Simeon gasps as they pass through, "Despite the cold, the water is still running!"
The others don't have as much time to ogle as they follow that ominous bellow.
"Be careful! It can be slick..." Olberic warns as they run about the gauntlet.
"WOAAAH!"
Therion knew that voice from anywhere. He swears under his breath.
"Alfyn...!" Primrose picks up her pace.
"Kyaaa!"
"Ophilia...!" H'aanit growls and bravely vaults over a crumbling ledge, landing just barely enough to avoid slipping. She just barely keeps her hands on her torch.
"These ruins... Whatever peril could they be facing...?" Olberic mutters to himself. He shakes his head a bit to vigorously lose those thoughts. They would only hamper him, after all.
Don't think! You just need to find them... and if you need to fight, so be it!
The monstrous bellow sounds more continuous and rampant. There is also the sound of stone breaking and loud, heavy thuds.
"There!"
"Grr!"
The five of them come upon a higher ledge that drops down into a more natural section of the cave in a semicircular theatre. Signs of destruction here are obvious, with smashed masonry and cracked floors. Looking down, they can see the enormous shape of something with dark, bluish-gray fur. Skirting around it, before what looks like a massive, broken wall, are four familiar figures trying to avoid being trampled.
"Tressa! Cyrus! Ophilia! Alfyn!" Olberic calls out to them. He isn't quite sure if he should be relieved or not, finding them in this kind of predicament.
"Ol'Berg?" Alfyn looks up and sees the lights of torches above, "Egads, thank the Gods!"
"Alfyn, look out!" Primrose shouts.
"Huh-"
In his lapse of attention, the behemoth's sudden and wide swing sends Alfyn flying into the air, almost reaching the upper levels.
"Alfyn!" Tressa shouts and quickly generates a small gust of wind to cushion him on the way down.
"Come, Linde!" H'aanit skirts about the broken and hazardous descent down to the skirmish. The leopard pounces down and manages to dig her claws into the tough scales of the big guy, though she is little more than a tick to its maddened fit of rage.
"We have to help them!" Olberic follows after H'aanit, albeit slower, being less agile and able to maneuver down the slope.
"Firebolt!" Cyrus blasts a mote of flame at the large creature, only to have it fizzle against that thick hide, "Ugh... Its fur does not ignite!"
Alfyn is seeing stars as Therion slides down the slope next to him. The thief rolls his eyes at the apothecary that's out of it. At least he doesn't seem too hurt despite taking a straight slam from that huge thing... whatever it is.
The thief's eye now rove watchfully towards that lumbering creature. It looks like those things that he'd heard called 'elephants.' It's got skin so thick that Linde's fangs and claws can't seem to scratch, and Cyrus' usual ice, fire, and lightning magic doesn't seem to faze it.
Find its weak point...
H'aanit leaps in with a battle cry from above, her axes brandishing. Obviously going for a bit of a distraction strike, she grinds her axe's edge hard against that tough hide. It makes the sound of metal grating against stones, attesting to just how hard that fur is. Looking closely, parts look like they have almost become petrified like rock.
"Tsk...!" H'aanit lands just near its hind leg. She barely manages to roll away as it stomps. Unfortunately, it catches the very edge of her cape.
"H'aanit!" Ophilia exclaims. Without thinking, the lit head of her staff blasts a shot of God's Eye at the Behemoth. Her shot goes wide, but the light loses its concentration and fans out a bit, flashing right by the Behemoth's one huge eye.
The beast doesn't like that one bit. It gives a loud trumpeting bellow and moves to charge in a sudden fury, its large eye blinking repeatedly.
"Its monocular nature renders it sensitive to light...!" Cyrus exclaims just before Olberic pushes him aside to avoid being squished into jam, "Oof-!"
"Keep your eyes open and your feet alert!" Olberic shouts. He has to keep one hand on his torch and one to his sword, though he would much prefer to be using both hands for his weapon. It doesn't seem like one hand alone would even scratch this thing.
"Waah!" Tressa narrowly dodges out of the way.
"RRRROWWR!" Linde growls, persistently clinging. The behemoth slams its side into one of the walls, squishing the leopard with its large body. That throws Linde off, and she gives a pained screech.
"Linde!" H'aanit managed to get free of the Behemoth's foot and darts for where her partner landed among some shattered masonry.
"Oof... Therion...?" Alfyn seems to come to. The thief is pulling him away, up the slope a bit, "Huh? What happened..."
Focus, see its weak points...! Therion sweats bullets as the stampeding thing is giving the rest of the party a run for its money. Ophilia can't just hit its eye again with dumb luck while it's thrashing around like that. There has to be another ...
"... There!" Therion shouts now, above the fray. He knew she would know...
A dagger robed in dark energy flies right at the huge beast's primary eyeball. The ocular organ bulges and a pained trumpet erupts.
Olberic looks up to see Primrose leap down from above, using a string of darkness to pull herself right at the behemoth's face. As the thing looks about ready to start collapsing the place around them, she plants her foot right into its eye as she swoops in. The behemoth swings its head in blind rage as its seeming only weak spot is assaulted.
"Prim?" Alfyn blinks.
"... She's not hitting it hard enough..." Therion mutters under his breath and darts forward, leaving Alfyn a bit farther from the fray. The thief draws two daggers, one being the viper fang. His astute eyes had observed the cracks along the creature's stony skin. Like the jagged lines of a mountain, they have their small cracks where a small, well-aimed blade could lodge. They aren't big enough for a sword, but a dagger should do the trick. Jamming his blade in at the leg he can reach, he quickly moves to scale the thing.
"Prim!" Simeon shouts, having stayed atop the ledge, out of reach. He just watches fretfully as Primrose hangs out right at the creature's eye, driving in her dagger with all her strength.
"Tsk..." The dancer pushes her blade again, digging deep.
"HOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRGGGH!" The behemoth rears and them slams down its forelegs. The entire place can be felt trembling.
"Aaaagh, it's gonna cave us in!" Tressa ducks for cover.
"Oh... O' Sacred Light!" Ophilia charges forward, shooting another beam of light. This time, she purposely tries to have it be diffused from the get-go, thus widening its range at the eye. The flash momentarily stops the behemoth from charging again. However, Prim feels that radiant energy shine on her, and it's like fire.
"Ngh-!" The dancer bites back a cry.
Ophilia's distraction allows Therion to reach where the dancer is. He runs his poison dagger at the eye as well. The two of them cut through the external membrane of the eye and vitreous liquid spills out. The behemoth gives a weaker bellow, swaying on its feet now with a ruined, bloody hole in its face.
"T-the eye... must be very close to its brain!" Cyrus shouts from where he'd been knocked into, "Or, er, perhaps they are highly connected!"
"Haaah!" Olberic makes a swing of his sword on that trunk of a leg. His gamble pays off, and the large beast just barely topples onto one leg, dropping its face much closer to the ground.
"Now, Ophilia!" Tressa shouts.
"Tch-" Therion grabs Primrose and pulls off the beast with her.
"H-holy light!" Ophilia blasts a ray of that searing radiance right at the behemoth's wounded eye, entering its skull. The ray enters that wounded socket and bursts out soundlessly from the other side of its head. There is a great rumble that sends shudders through the behemoth's body. To the delight of the party, it slowly collapses with a heavy thud.
"W-woah!" Alfyn gawks as the dust settles. He scrambles to his feet, "T-Therion! Prim!"
Therion lets Primrose down from where she had leaned a bit on his shoulder. He sees her wince a bit. On parts of her skin near her neck and jaw, there are angry, black-red marks.
"..." The thief says nothing.
The dancer seems to catch her breath a little and stands, "... Thanks for that."
"Are you alright?" Ophilia runs over, nearly tripping, "The holy light shouldn't have dealt any harm to either of you..."
"We're fine," Primrose says, a little snappish, "Not very sparing with your light beams anymore, hm?"
"W-well, I am also practicing..."
"That was a stunning show!" Simeon calls from above, "Ahem... I don't see any safe footing to descend, unfortunately!"
"We'll be up!" Olberic shouts to the playwright, "It seems the other path the others came in by is blocked!"
"Y-yeah! We got snowed in here and this big lug just busted in and all!" Tressa stands, sighing in relief, "It also broke a bit of the tomb we were looking though so... we might as well run before skeletons come for us or something!"
"A tomb?" Simeon raises an eyebrow, "Ah... so that is what this structure is! That explains everything!"
"H'aanit, are you and Linde alright?" Ophilia goes to the huntress' side.
"... Linde, cannen thou stand?" H'aanit asks in a quiet voice, kneeling by the leopard.
Linde lets out a weak growl and shifts its body a little to put weight on its forelegs. Upon trying to fully stand, however, the big cat gets out a pained yowl and slumps back down, fatigued from the effort.
"...!" H'aanit bites her lower lip.
"Linde!" Ophilia gasps.
"That thing packed quite a wallop. And Linde was grasping hard to its hide..." Cyrus comes over to take a look, "Are there broken bones, mayhaps?"
"I'll take a look!" Alfyn darts over, ever eager. He squats down next to H'aanit by Linde and softly pets the big cat on the head, "Just keep calm, alright? It's all gonna be okay. It might hurt just a bit, but I need to see if you got anything broken, alright?"
The poor cat just mewls. Alfyn rubs his gloved hands to chill them a bit before feeling along the cat's side for tenderness. H'aanit, Cyrus, and Ophilia look on with worry.
"Sir Simeon, do you have any rope you can throw down to us so we can return upward?" Olberic calls to the playwright again.
"Uhh... I don't carry rope on me, I'm afraid. Perhaps you can throw some up, if you have it?" Simeon asks with a nervous chuckle, "I would climb down if I could, but I don't know if I could ascend back up..."
"Hmm... Very well... I am making my way up!" Olberic sheathes his sword and moves to climb up the precarious slope with a torch in hand.
"Huh... Still don't know what this thing was, though..." Tressa looks at the collapsed behemoth. She makes a slight face at the bloody mess of an eye that takes up most of its face, "It... is dead, right?"
She pokes the trunk with her spear to be sure. Sure enough, there isn't so much as a twitch, nor any sounds of breathing. The merchant lets out a small sigh of relief.
"Yep, figures... A few broken ribs," Alfyn gives an assuring smile, "Nothing we can't fix! You'll be all better in no time!"
"Rowrr..."
"Lia, you can set broken bones, right?" Alfyn looks to the cleric as he pulls out bandages and some wooden sticks he'd gathered from his bag, "I ain't a hundred percent sure on the anatomy, but I think I can split Linde's chest a bit to hold the bones in place so they can heal back!"
"I think I can..." Ophilia nods tentatively.
"Hmm, leopard anatomy would indeed pose a difficulty," Cyrus goes into thinking mode, "The posture and positioning of the spinal cord is entirely different... Alfyn, have you worked with such animals before?"
"Nope, can't really say I have!"
H'aanit looks worried.
"But I won't let Linde stay hurt like this!" Alfyn says with confidence, "No worries, we'll figure this out!"
Therion glances over at the hubbub over the wounded leopard. He then turns to look at Olberic scaling up slowly to where Simeon is. Tressa meanwhile seems to be poking around the dead beast. The thief sighs.
"...You were more a team player than I thought," Primrose scoffs softly, smiling. She draws her fur coat about herself a bit higher to hide the burns on her face. The effect of the radiant magic still lingers.
"... Hmf," Therion doesn't look at her.
"Hmm... Tressa?" Prim calls over to the merchant, "What exactly happened that you all ran into this thing?"
"Oh!" Tressa perks up and points down the stone-laden hall that they had run through, "So, out that way is uh, some kind of tomb? I mean, it could be that this whole place was a tomb, even. We saw something like an altar that was broken and this big guy was behind it, probably living in these caves!"
"Interesting..." The dancer glances around. This slope here looks like the result of a collapse. Perhaps the behemoth had stampeded so hard that it trapped itself...
"The imperator or someone... that's what Cy said was engraved on the stone near the altar," Tressa shrugs, "This tough guy might've been... I dunno, like a guard?"
"Hm, maybe. Or a reincarnation of the person that was buried?" Primrose muses, "An imperator trapped in their own impregnable tomb... how poetic."
The merchant shrugs again, "Anyway, maybe we can sell this thing for parts? I'm pretty sure these tusks are actual ivory! It's got use in jewelry and all sorts of pretty stuff."
"And how are you gonna carry that?" Therion raises an eyebrow.
Tressa opens her mouth with confidence and then pauses, since she realizes the tusks are even larger than she is when placed in full, standing length.
"..."
Therion snickers, much to the merchant's chagrin.
"Hey! I was just thinking of our wallets here! Excuse me!" Tressa huffs.
"Well, we haven't even found town yet, so... pulling such an extra weight wouldn't be very wise," Primrose chuckles, "Maybe you can take just a little?"
Tressa grumbles as she takes out what look like tools to try and dent the ivory.
"... there!" Alfyn exclaims, "Feel better?"
Linde stretches her toes a little as the last of Ophilia's healing light fades. The big cat gives a big yawn and rears to lick Alfyn's face appreciatively.
"Haha, I'll take that as a yes!" The apothecary chuckles.
"I'm so glad you're alright!" Ophilia scratches Linde behind the ears. She also gets some licks of gratitude from the big cat.
"Yes, it is fortunate the wounds could be healed without much complication," Cyrus nods, "We are still rather lost in the Stillsnow wilds, I believe."
"Mm..." H'aanit rubs Linde's pelt, "Doen not movest thou too much, lest thine bone acheth thee."
"Rowr," Linde looks at H'aanit.
"... what?" The huntress raises an eyebrow.
"I think Linde means to say the pot shan't call the kettle black," Ophilia giggles, "You have a penchant for moving while injured as well, H'aanit."
The huntress rolls her eyes a little as Linde sort of smirks.
"All!" Olberic calls from up the slope, having successfully scaled up, "I'm throwing down the rope now. It should help us all climb back up easier!"
"Whoo, yeah!" Alfyn cheers as the rope comes down.
"Hrrrngh... Maybe I can come back for this some time..." Tressa frowns, not having made a scratch, "It'd be a waste otherwise!"
"... And where do we even go from up there," Therion grumbles under his breath.
"... We'll find a way," Primrose smiles.
"How will we get Linde up there?" Ophilia looks up the rope, "She's only just healed."
Linde stands and shakes herself lightly before easily climbing up the slope without the rope's help. The leopard doesn't make fancy leaps, but still seems to have no trouble walking up with her claws.
"... Thinken I do she needeth not the concern," H'aanit chuckles.
...
After that hairy encounter in the Tomb of the Imperator, the party finds themselves once again in the snows, not entirely sure of where to go. Luckily, it seems they had spent a good deal of the night through already, and the wintry storm is letting up. The slightest of sunlight from the dawn shows through the cracks in the dreary sky.
"I daresay, lady luck must finally be smiling upon us!" Simeon smiles a little, shielding his eyes at the light of dawn, "It will be much easier to find our way than in the frigid dark!"
"Woaah, it's glistening!" Alfyn oohs and aahs at the white snow shimmering in the light, "It's totally different from Flamesgrace!"
"Yes, the Stillsnow wilds live up to their name indeed. The first settlers to have forayed into this area were amazed at how pristine and undisturbed the drifts were, even by wildlife!" Cyrus lectures, as he does, "The town of Stillsnow of course actually receives its name from the surrounding wilds. In times of great blizzards, however, it has been observed that-"
"Whee!" Alfyn ignores the scholar's ramblings as he plops into the deep snow as if it were water. He leaves a deep imprint of his shape in the drift.
"Alf, ya goof!" Tressa folds her arms, "The snow's gonna sink when you do that!"
"But I mean, it's so much snow!" Alfyn pops out of his body-shaped hole with snow dusted on his face and hair.
"It's really amazing that you're not cold at all," Ophilia chuckles a little nervously, "It's not really recommended to be jumping into snow like that..."
"These furs we got are great!" The apothecary pumps his arms up in triumph.
"Tressa does raise a good point though," Olberic looks about the white scenery, "Snow is a difficult terrain to traverse without proper shoes... Unfortunately, this hadn't dawned on me while we were still in Atlasdam..."
"Hm, yes, snowshoes are... well, they aren't exactly common," Simeon puts a hand to his chin.
H'aanit glances around and sees even Linde sink a little into snows as she tries to gallop, "... Aye, snowshoes aren difficult to make well."
"Well, we are insulated, so we should be able to suffer through some wet shoes," Primrose awkwardly makes her way through the snows, "Come on then!"
It is honestly a bit comical seeing the dancer, who is usually so graceful, move with clod-like movements whilst hampered in the snow. Olberic suppresses a small chuckle as Primrose shoots him a glare from the corner of her eye.
"Well? Come on then!
"By Steorra, I think I see a sign!" Tressa says excitedly as she uses her spyglass.
...
Tressa's scouting turns out correct as they find a signpost that survived the snowy night. It seems to have been purposely built to be able to stand above even high pileups of snow. On the post are two signs: one to Stillsnow, and the other to the northern part of the Wilds.
"That would lead to Northreach, correct?" Simeon looks to Ophilia.
Ophilia nods and mumbles to herself, "I wonder... if those two boys made it..."
"What was that?" Tressa asks.
"Oh, uh, nothing," Ophilia says quickly.
"Let's go then! We got a path and a way and will and, uh, whatever it is they say!" Alfyn loops an arm around Therion's shoulders. The thief just rolls his eye.
From the signpost, it was a bit of a trek because of the difficulty posed by the terrain. However, in the distance, they spot the quaint first of houses marking Stillsnow, along with a frozen river and bridge that runs through. It's not an elevated, elegant town like Flamesgrace. It's far more secluded, being surrounded by snowy woodlands, and the houses are spaced out. At the center of town, one can see the river pools a bit into a sort of frozen lake. There is a steeple with much less grandeur than the usual cathedrals. Past the main part of town that seems populated, the woodlands stretch into a low range of mountains that overlook the town.
"Stillsnow!" Alfyn says breathlessly.
"This is Stillsnow, right? Right?" Tressa throws her hands up, "Oh, thank Bifelgan! If I have to walk the drifts again, I'm gonna lose it!"
Tressa, being a bit shorter, often trailed behind the others as they traversed particularly deep snows after a fresh fall. She is finally sounding fatigued after hauling around her large load.
"Thank the Flame..." Ophilia sighs as they enter the town along a covered road. There are some people clearing the snows slowly with shovels. They don't give the travelers much of a glance, save for the obvious cleric...
"Rrr..." Linde still limps a bit, but moves much better than before.
"Let's hit up the inn! First things first, we need a bed to stay in!" Tressa announces, "I'm dying for a nice bed after all this snow and cold!"
"Her Coastland self is showing, haha," Simeon muses, "I say, no reason for all of us to be going to the inn..."
"Aye. I wanten to finden Grotoff in haste," H'aanit sighs, "Yet, I needen be sure Linde be'en alright."
"In that case, we can look around," Primrose nods, "I'm sure this is more productive anyways. We'll meet you all back at the inn."
"I will accompany you both," Olberic nods, "We may now have reached a supposedly safe town, but..."
The warrior glances about as furtively as he can without making eye contact with some of the people that are staring. Many here, like in most of the Frostlands, wear thick fur coats with hats like ushanka. There are some children quietly playing in the snow as the day is in its last hours. Some of the people look at the newcomers with suspicion, while others try to keep their interest secret.
Therion glances as well, scoffing softly.
"Chilly reception much..." He mumbles.
"Haha, let's go warm up then!" Alfyn pulls Therion along as they head to the inn with Tressa, "And I'lll do a check up on Therion, too!"
"Alright then..." Primrose glances to the nearest tavern, "Let's see what we can do, hm?"
...
Stillsnow, despite being a rather small town and hardly a notable city in size, has a rather large tavern. Upon entering, one would see that there is a surprisingly grand stage set up for performances. Tables are set up around the stage and a bar is off to the side. Unlike the Sunshade hall, this place doesn't have a second floor. Nonetheless, one wouldn't expect this nice of a place in the middle of the idyllic frozen nowhere.
"How ... interesting," Primrose surveys the venue attentively, "I say, this is the perfect place to break the ice... with a dance."
"What?" Olberic looks to her with a start, "Now? Here?"
"Well, where else, dear Olberic?" Primrose looks to him like he's a silly child for even asking, "Certainly better than in the cold, no?"
Before Simeon and Olberic can get a word in edgewise, the dancer discards her coat and throws it to them for holding. Her shapely body in the eye-catching garb is revealed. The dull mood in the tavern immediately changes as eyes turn their way towards the eye candy that just walked in. Primrose struts forward, exuding confidence in each step, as she steps onto the stage.
"I don't remember there being a show today..." The tavern keeper can be heard muttering.
"Who cares? Whooo!" One man raises his mead, messily spilling it, "Let it all out, yeaaah!"
Olberic clicks his tongue in disapproval. But the dancer's garnered too much attention now...
"Haha, Prim is quite spirited for this," Simeon chuckles nervously.
"To the point of being foolish," The warrior sighs, watching Primrose announce herself on stage, "This is ... far too conspicuous. And we are strangers here."
"Fair guests, do we have any music in the house tonight?" Primrose asks with a wink, "I'll need a little bit of help."
"Ohh! I got my old zither somewhere!" Someone volunteers.
"No need! I know how to tickle the ivories a bit!" Someone else jumps onto the small harpsichord set up near the stage, "What shall I play, fair lady?"
"Hmm... how about something with a faster rhythm to wake everyone up?"
"You got it!"
Many of the goers that were just in a sort of lull now cheer in eager anticipation.
The tavern master glances to Olberic and Simeon. He approaches. The tavern master is a person with black hair and a black tunic under a fine black jacket and dark grey pants over black shoes. He has a black goatee and dark eyes.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Ah, good evening...!" Simeon chuckles.
"You came with her... so I assume you are her... hired hands?" The tavern master raises an eyebrow at the two of them.
"Oh, well, yes, we are her companions," Simeon glances to Olberic.
The tavern master bats an eye and glances to Primrose's rhythmic movements. The tune being played is a bit too minstrel, but Primrose's dainty feet make it work with quick movements that look like the most beautiful rabbit hopping on stage.
"She is something to behold in these parts," The tavern master looks back to the warrior and playwright, "Where are you folks from?"
"Uhh..." Simeon starts hesitantly.
"Come, I'll give you a drink on the house," The tavern master points to the bar area, "You must be tired. You don't look to be from nearby."
"Well, not... exactly..." Simeon and Olberic share glances before allowing themselves to be led to the bar. They take up two empty seats. Next to Olberic is a man who seems to be drowning in his drink, mumbling about money woes.
"Don't mind him. He's a bit of a useless father," The tavern keeper says with a smirk, "Can't ever pay his tab."
"Mrrgh... j-just gimme the credit..." The man groans in his stupor, "I-I'm good fer it... I swear... I'll ... pay back..."
"Hmf," The tavern keeper slides over two tankards of mead, "Here. On the house."
"Oh, uh, thank you..." Simeon just smiles after taking a tiny sip.
Olberic curls his hand around the handle of the tankard. He keeps his eyes peeled partly for the stage to ensure nothing was going on with the dancer.
"So, that's quite a beauty you both brought in," The tavern keeper leans in, "Must cost a lot of upkeep on her."
"Uh... Well, I don't know about that..." Simeon doesn't drink anymore, "But, ah, we are from out of town and we are looking for someone, Mister...?"
"Call me Kalv," Kalv gives a half-smile.
"Mister Kalv, yes, we are seeking someone by the name of Grotoff," Simeon nods, "Might you be able to aid us? I'm afraid we'd only just arrived and so we don't know much of the locale."
"Grotoff? Ah, you people want to see Susanna... Figures," Kalv's smile widens in amusement, "A lot of people come for the same reason, only to regret it, sorely."
"May we ask why?" Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Alaic is quite the bodyguard. He never lets anyone see Susanna if she says no. And the old woman is so ornery that she almost never takes visitors anymore. The last one was some poor bloke that got tossed in the snow," Kalv chuckles toothily and points at Simeon, then Olberic, "You look like a twig he could toss. You... maybe give him a good tussle."
"We aren't here to cause needless trouble," Olberic sighs, "Alaic, hm... he sounds like a worthy opponent."
"Well, good luck nonetheless... She lives in a large house north of the lake, almost too close to the woods."
Simeon is momentarily pensive and swirls his mead a little, "Well, we'll keep this in mind, Kalv."
The playwright and warrior turn their heads when applause erupts from the other patrons as Primrose's dance concludes. While the dancer is ingratiating herself to their reception, her eyes are roving the crowds for any familiar dark hood. Seeing none, she sighs and goes to step off. She ignores the calls for an encore.
"Prim! You were wonderful, my flower..." Simeon leaves his virtually untouched drink and goes to return the coat to the dancer.
"Ah, you both enjoyed the show as well?" Primrose smiles sweetly.
"Your dancing never ceases to impress," Olberic says simply as he walks over as well, "We have some information on this Grotoff figure... we should regroup with the others."
"Hm, how productive," Primrose sighs and nods, "Very well..."
"Wait a moment there, Miss," Kalv comes over now, "I would be remiss if I did not introduce myself to such a fine sight to grace our sleepy town."
Primrose gingerly offers her hand, which he kisses on the back softly. The dancer gives a token smile.
"I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to be looking for someone?" Kalv smiles.
"Hm, and who would that be?" Primrose asks with a sultry tone.
"Well, you were looking through the crowd here... so I assume not Grotoff," Kalv rubs his chin, "Someone that frequents around here? I could help. I know everyone that goes in and out, after all."
"How gracious," Primrose bats her lashes, "Maybe I will return and take up your offer."
"... We should be going," Olberic clears his throat.
"Yes, excuse us," Simeon glances around at the eyes lingering on them and goes to lead Primrose out.
"Yes, do come again," Kalv calls out after them.
The cold air outside washes the tavern smell out of their nostrils a bit. They make their way to the inn in a bit of relative silence after that small show of revelry.
"Well, I guess that wasn't a total waste of time," The dancer sighs, breaking the silence as some kids tread by.
"What was he talking about?" Olberic looks to Primrose, "Someone you seek?"
"That's for me to worry about," Primrose shrugs, "It's nothing, really."
"Kalv, the tavern keeper, he seems... to mean well, sort of," Simeon folds his arms, "I didn't quite fancy how he was looking at you..."
"That's him and everyone in the place," The dancer laughs, "You're too paranoid."
"Do you have possible assassins after you as well that we should know of?" Olberic raises an eyebrow at the dancer.
Primrose shrugs again, "Not that I know of."
"Anyways, apparently the person lady H'aanit seeks is well guarded," Simeon glances now over the lakefront as they pass, "There, see? Kalv said that Grotoff lives past the lake."
Across the frozen lake crossed by a single stone bridge, they can see some more houses, most of them rather small. There are one or two that seem to be larger, with two proper stories instead of just an attic. They stand against the backdrop of snowy trees that stretch as far as the eye can see, in the shadow of more mountainous highlands.
In the distance, there is an echoing growl. It's not like a bear or wolf.