Day 1, Continued C

It's still morning when you leave the Crossroads House. You begin your walk west towards Bryn Shander.  From there you can head to Targos and then on to Bremen or Termalaine and Lonelywood (The”Western Five”).  Traveling by foot, on this road is certainly much quicker than post-holing through the unpacked snow on the open tundra, or carefully weighing every step while traversing an icefield, but it comes with its own set of dangers.  For Numchucku, the memory of the gang who took your things is still very fresh.  You’re thankful to have at least another companion to travel with now.  Perhaps now, you won’t be seen as such an easy target.

After the Crossroads house fades into darkness, you’re left with feelings of uncertainty about what’s to come.  Kendrick has requested you stay out of Good Mead until Eliasis; two-and-half tendays away. This will require resources you currently don’t have much of: Inns and meals will require gold. Setting up camp in this brutal weather will require equipment you currently don’t have. You’re faced with the reality that you’ll have to find income - “jobs” in the outsider’s sense, is not something to which either of you are accustomed.  

The first hour and a half pass uneventfully.  Your constant movement is keeping you warm enough for now, despite the (-30 degree) cold.  No one passes or crosses you and there are no sounds other than the occasional hoot of an owl.  Now, in the distance, on the north side of the road, you spot a building, lit by several lanterns.  As you approach, you're surprised by how large this two-story cabin is.  It's surrounded by an eight-foot tall log palisades.  There is a sign posted near the road: "Comet's Inn"

You decide to skip the inn and continue on.

"Ulutiun, I presume? … Both our peoples belong to the land.  Reghedmen respect the Ulutiun, they walked this land even before us. The Fremmed?  Not as much.  I’m sure you’ve noticed."

“Oh-ho, the white elf hero! I had my suspicions, but didn’t want to intrude. I heard of your deeds when I was performing in Good Mead. I’m writing a song about you! Please, allow me to play it for you… later.  I have so many questions. I want to make sure I have my facts straight, give or take. You know, artistic license -- have to make it rhyme, fit the meter, leave out the mundane, all that. This is an honor! I’d play it for you now, but this cold is murder on my tuning."

Elva asks about the recent creature spotting.

"The Chwinga? They're harmless. Though, some people blame them for the long winter since there seem to be more of them now than before."

"Allow me to be your guide in Shander. Well, until my performance tonight at the Northlook, then you can be my audience! Hopefully though, not my audience in its entirety. Although as of late, that would be possible.  You know, you’d think this constant darkness and dearth of entertainment options would be a boon for someone like me, but the longer this lasts - I’m referring here to the darkness plague, of course - the more people are just staying home. No one knows when to be sleeping and when to be awake anymore.'

"I’m fond of saying that this is the time we need to come together!  Illuskan, Dwarves, Reghed... Ice Hunters… Even White Elves… why this… Well, we could be the very model itself for cooperation of the races, now that I think of it.  Wouldn’t you say?  We should stick together.  I can work you into the act. The white elf hero, the Reghed bard of renown, the… Ice Hunter… You seem like fantastic travel companions, very talkative, perhaps not well-armed but you’ve proven that’s not an obstacle, right, Elva, the white elf hero?  Believe me, I could show you around.  I know every square inch of that town. Well, the parts they let me see. Ah, as I mentioned there are certain, racial… disparities in the Ten towns, and I can’t blame them entirely, it’s been a rough thousand years up here.  Nor can I point fingers, the Reghed have not exactly earned a reputation for being warm and welcoming to all.  Our own people can’t get even get along with one another, truth be told, and we all look the same.  Dwarves… Now dwarves we all get along with.  I think it’s the beards, in truth.  A shared respect for prodigious and jewelry-adorned facial hair. I mean no disrespect to you, Numchucku, but as I was saying, coming together, that’s the… oh... oh, shit… There really are wolves.”

Releived they're not actually wolves, your party fends off six wild dogs - killing five and sending the last one running.  Elva is bitten in the leg and you both sustain slight injuries from being too close to Raaf's thunderclap, an incident for which he is endlessly apologetic during the next couple of hours as you continue on to Bryn Shander.