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| Details |
| Author: | Vond |
| Summary: | A couple of weeks after Vond makes it to Light's Refuge, a stranger who had seen something unusual at Camp Granite Springs comes to do business at the old trading post the Argents had acquired. Gratitude for supplies and conversation is sparked. Contains some NPCs, buildings and flavor of the area. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
(Takes place approximately two weeks after Variable Insight)
The road east out of Camp Granite Springs crossed the primary river of Grizzly Hills, forked south toward Amberpine Lodge and northeast to skim past the central valley that housed the broken trunk of Grizzlemaw. The furbolg city seemed to have come into better times since some kind of seeping corruption had been sealed away, the conflict between the tribes settling into a season of rebuilding and a long process of mending terrible rifts. They were still somewhat insular, however, and contact with humans was mostly tentative.
On the other hand, further north on the upper ridge of the basin, the expanding outpost of Light's Refuge - at least the portion immediately at the crossroads, around the old Heartwood Trading Post - was receiving visitors. Banners in pale grey and coal with stark faded sunburst insignia lined the newer fortifications. A rough timbered chapel in the style of the locals was new, as was a storefront and bare bones inn, arranged near the more time-tested smokehouse. Further down the road appeared to be an expansive stable, and various other cabins and some kind of longhouse stretched further from the road, partitioned from the more public area.
There are a few lookouts posted at the outer fortifications of the place that appeared to expect foot and cart traffic along the main earthy crossroads, though they seem more concerned with watching the northern hills. The trading post itself, part of the original construction, is perhaps the most inviting structure aside from the chapel, accessible from the road. Its wooden door is propped above a short stair, a simple welcome sign hung. There appears to be some movement inside, visible indistinctly through the entry and windows, but no great crowd.
A figure came up the road, swaddled in a heavy cloak that near drug the trail and tailed by two large hounds. They had a rough-hewn bow was that was slung over one shoulder and each hound was tethered to a pull sled that seemed laden with carcasses and pelts. Their gait steady, the group quickly advanced on the revamped trading post. To those standing watch, it became apparent that the hounds were indeed russet worgs, and though one was smaller than the other, the largest loomed near the size of a horse. Perhaps a worrying sight, given recent events. The group began to slow as they reached the outer walls as the figure raised a gloved hand, though in greeting or command, it was hard to discern.
The walls are low and look mostly like fresh construction, less of a complete barrier than a series of obstacles that follow the course of the hilly terrain to funnel arrivals toward the road and specific points of ingress to the various buildings. A lookout on a short platform briefly raises a head above an outward-facing blind, and soon a man on foot approaches, possibly alerted to someone appearing with more than a bundle of hides or lumber in tow.
He is a young dark skinned fellow with a relaxed demeanor, dressed in plain work clothes and identifiable Argent Crusade insignia, neither armed nor seemingly troubled by this fact, and his hand is lifted from a distance in greeting. "Hey there," he calls in a Stormwind accent, while sizing up the enormous larger worg. He smiles but keeps a normal healthy respect for large animals sort of distance. "Lookin' for something?"
The stranger pulled a scarf down from around their mouth, revealing an older woman. Sandy hair poked from around the edges of her hood, mixed with whisps of grey. Her face was tanned, aside the wind-kissed rosiness of her cheeks. She tugged a pipe out of her sleeve and placed the stem between shining teeth. A smile, friendly as it was, betrayed by a pair of blue eyes regarding the 'man' with a shine of amicable mischief.
"Aye, that. Been a few moons past, since I last trod these roads…" a voice that was both warm and tired at the same time, spiced with Lordaeronian curtness. "Don't rightly recall there always being such trappings at the outpost here." She didn't make to light the pipe. The two worgs lay at their new posts, heads raised and ears pointed in curiosity.
The human fellow who'd answered the stranger casts a look over his shoulder toward the new buildings with a nod of assent. "Oh, for sure, most of this has been built over the last half year, and there's still more to go. You from around here, then? I'd ask if you knew the old proprietor of Heartwood, but I hear tell it's passed hands a few times, what with all the trouble about." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, manner eased. It's almost certain both are still being watched by other lookouts from their obvious raised watch points.
"The trading post is still open for business, mind, and you're welcome to see, but there are some little ones who live out yonder, so we've got to be careful about big, uh," he tilts his head slightly, "dogs." He seems to consider how easily the huge one might be able to snap up a child whole, regardless of how well behaved it might seem. "I'm Errol Price if there's anything else you'd like to know. Argent Crusade."
She nods, looking somewhat dismissive as she takes in all the additions. The tip of her pipe does a minute figure-eight as she seems to consider. "Well, Errol Price, Argent Crusade, - got a kennel? All three of these girls could stand to rest our bones." The smaller of the worgs, seems to be brimming with a needy energy, as if wanting to scooch closer.
"Well, our facilities are mostly geared toward horses, but we do have a couple folks familiar with riding worgs." Errol gestures to an unobtrusive building across from the tradehouse. "And yes, got a lodge to rest, can bring you a meal from the cookhouse. A donation for upkeep is appreciated but we won't turn you away for need."
He gives the woman a studying look, smile vague. The lack of answer to his question isn't lost on him. "They might ask for a name for the ledger, regardless - ah!" He seems to catch something from the corner of his eye and turns, letting out a sharp whistle and waving down a rather large figure rounding a bend from the direction of the stables. As the second Argent approaches - for he is indeed attired and signified similarly - it becomes quickly apparent that this is an orc, who sees companion worgs in the distance and picks up the pace in jogging down the road. The presence of the younger one brimming with excitement at the new environment seems to inspire some pep. Awww puppy.
Errol's demeanor relaxes a bit more again as he looks back, possibly relieved the worg guy is coming to assist. "If you're looking to unload some of those furs, well. Like I said, Heartwood is still in operation."
The woman looked over her sled as if tallying and gave a soft grunt at his implication. "I'll give a name if asked, suppose. Quite a bit going on here after all, eh girls?" She turned back to Errol, pipe lilting as she studied him and the arriving orc. "Be good," she began, clearly not meaning him, "Don't feel like walking further today."
She motioned with a thumb at the load behind her, "I'll take up my business with the post, sure. Got about a man's weight in meat all papered and iced under those, will ya take split shares for a meal or only coin?" She tugged off a glove with a practiced flourish and made to undo the lanyard holding the largest of the furs in place. Indeed, enough meat to fill a larder was packed in papered bundles, tied with fast and packed with fresh snow.
The orc is a typically broad-shouldered green fellow with streaks of grey in his dark chestnut hair, but he seems youthful around the worgs, dropping forward slightly to pat both hands above his knees in front of the smaller worg with a delighted "Hah! Gol maka!" in playful canine pantomime. It's clear he spends a lot of time around similar beasts.
"They will follow or do you need to guide them yourself?" He stands up straight again and looks more directly to the visitor while asking her, when she doesn't seem to take surprise or reservations about his presence. Really he just looks thrilled more ostensably tame worgs are here.
Errol adds as he eyes the stranger's bounty with an appreciative eye. "I'd say the meat could go much further than coin, and may earn you some for as much as you'd part with past what you'd like to offer the cookpot. Why don't you check in wirh Heath at the shop? He can square you with goods or payment for what you'd like to unload, and get it sent off to fix or preserve. We've got a lot of hungry mouths to feed both here and further north."
"They'll follow well enough, friend, just make sure they get food and bedding." She dropped the pelt, unslinging her bow to be laid atop the pile.
"…Maybe get them a bit of a run around, sure they wouldn't mind shaking off the trail." The worgs are untethered, and the woman begins lashing the ropes around her own shoulders in a makeshift harness.
With a rather coarse runt, she begins heaving past the crusaders, the sled coming along with a creak of road grit and straining wood. "Think I'll do just that, son, assuming you're gonna let me by?" Crow's feet deepen as she squints, tilting her head inquisitively.
The orc does not need further encouragement to take some worgs on an adventure, making a few more mock play-bows at the creatures to try to jazz them up for a trot, then takes off back the road he came from with a beckoning clap and whistle. The praise he offers them is orcish, but the tone of an animal lover having a blast is universal, and he indulges the four-footed newcomers to sniff around as he keeps their interest to lead them in the other direction from the more residential looking area.
Errol watches them depart with an easier smile and steps back to make more room for the visitor's sled. "Of course, be welcome. You have any other questions they can't help you with in the shop, just give me a wave." He seems sincere enough, and not providing a particular obstacle more than general inquiry. It is perhaps a reasonable basic caution. Given various recent events and the stated presence of children, it might be downright lax.
The shopfront, smokehouse, chapel, and "lodge" - more a boxy new construction without any of the exterior homey trappings of an inn that was made with the expectation to attract travelers so much as serviceably shelter them - are readily accessible from the main crossroads.
The worg are quick to shuffle off their burden and give chase, hesistantly at first but eventually with enthusiasm rivaling their new best friend. A wordless wink, and the trapper began making her way toward the shop front, softly thudding steps betraying the weight of her haul, though she seemed not to mind nor struggle. Indeed, as she trudged past, Errol might have thought to square himself against her, eyeballing it, anyway. She walked with a hunch, though that being on account of the load, he couldn't make out. Either way, she was tall, broad and sure-footed. She spared a moment between steps to fully doff her hood, causing thick silver-sand braids to spill over her shoulders by shake of her head. As she lumbered further, the pelts on her sled shifted and jostled, causing the largest at the back to drape awkwardly. The hollows of eye sockets looked back at Errol from the angular remains of a furred, lupine face.
It didn't take her long to park her goods and unsaddle the straps. She arched her back, slow and deliberate, twisting her pipe between teeth as she considered the layout with an approving arch of her brow. She plucked the pipe from her lips, smiling to herself as she gently kicked the wall. Bits of mud and trail detritus sloughed from her boots, and she continued until she was seeminly satisfied with the pile she'd built. Only after, did she make her way inside.
The trading post storefront is open and welcoming, and the interior is a fairly cozy log construction, benefiting from the pleasant scent of the nearby smokehouse to mingle with that given off by a profusion of leather goods. The walls are lined with hung furs, the most appealing specimens on display, deer and shoveltusk, rabbit, seal. Rough shelves display travel gear and horse driving equipment: saddles, bridles, lanterns, maps. Example horseshoes are arrayed around the door, and most of the wooden surfaces are unfinished. Mind the splinters.
The front counter seems varnished, however, and safe to lean on, and behind it, perched on a tall stool, is a gnomish woman with a plain green ponytail and a bored expression, leafing through a pamphlet. She perks up when she spots a visitor and gives a wave. "'Lo there!"
There is someone else in here, larger than a gnome, rummaging on the opposite side of a display.
The woman walked toward the counter, leaning in with a slouch that looked practiced. "Well met, there. Boy out near the wall said you and yours could use some meat and furs," She let her fingers drum out a series of soft knocks against the smooth wood, "Happen to have more than I need. Would be willing to trade a bit for a night's rest and a hot meal, the rest for fair coin. How's that strike you?" She flashed a smile somewhere between crooked and warm as she shoved a thumb toward the door she'd entered.
The gnome is positively beaming. "No kidding? Wow, of course ma'am, we're absolutely in the market for meat and fur. What've you got, game? Deer, shoveltusk? We'd smoke a mammoth if you could get it here." She gives a squeaky laugh. "Heath's out if you were looking for him but I can work out a fair deal with you. I'm Sherl. We've always got at least someone here if you want to make regular business."
Sherl leans over the counter a bit and calls past the inner displays, "Hey Vond, when you're done with those collars, want to help get this load where it needs to go?"
The other presence in the shop is already peeking around with a curious look at the newcomer. "I - sure?" It's sort of an affirmative and sort of an uncertainty, coming from a bespectacled human face with a baseline expression of mild startlement. "Yeah, of course." He untangles his arms from a mess of cart harness parts and darts for the door in perhaps more hurry than necessary, giving the stranger a polite dip of his head and a poorly concealed wary side-eye.
Sherl hops down from the stool and prepares to follow, ducking under the hinged top of the front counter without raising it. "Don't mind him. Think there was some trouble on the road out of Dragonblight recently."
She watched as the boy left, noticing his demeanor, recognizing his face. Her face betrayed no real concern and she shifted her weight to relax along the countertop. "Deer and bear, mainly. Bit of fish, and some worgen pelts, should you care." She tucked a hand into her coat, withdrawing a battered tin. "And yea, I'd heard. Glad to see the boy found his marbles." She chuckled to herself as she began packing something from the tin into her pipe, before holding up a thumb match and a raised brow, as if asking permission.
"Excuse me, wo-" Sherl halts on her way to see them out the door, blinking rapidly up at the newcomer. She glances to see that Vond had rounded the corner, and leans up on her tiptoes while dropping her voice to more of a hush. "You're not grinding my gears, are you? Worgen pelts? I don't think I'm able to buy those off you 'cause they're like human remains, aren't they? Sort of." Sherl blinks a bit uncertainly. "Even if they do look beastly and have been a menace. We could dispose of them but not buy I'm afraid.
"If I were you I'd make sure they're out of sight before all the paladins find out. Not like I think they'd harm you, but they might not let me pay you for the goods I want to get to feed them." She emphasizes like she definitely is concerned for their sustenance but also might find something uniquely counterproductive about their compunctions. You know, paladins. "I didn't know Vond played marbles," she adds after a moment, sincerely, and appears entirely oblivious to the unstated question.
"No muss, I'll tuck them away, be sure." She struck the match, committing to the vagaries of enjoying poor health choices. "I'll take'm down the way to the goblins, on my way out. No need to take coin out of my pocket over moral compunction." She didn't quite exhale, causing her voice to take on a muffled quality. "Let's just stick to our needs then," smoke trailed from the corner of her mouth, "no ground gears."
Sherl almost starts to look sour at the mention of goblins, who have quite an industrious logging operation and docks in the region, but quickly smooths it back to a friendly business minded intent look. "Righty-o then, no muss! Let's tally up how much of the food you're willing to part with and get you a place to rest."
She waves the stranger on the rest of the way outdoors, where Vond has by now fetched a handcart and a calm looking taunka woman with shaggy silver fur and a long apron, bearing a butcher's scale. She looks delighted to find that the supply is already neatly packed by the visitor, and she and Sherl begin to count and tally and mark a paper list once given some assent.
The stranger is fine to stand by, finding a comfy spot on the wall to post up against, "Prices seem fair to me, take it all if you want. Got my own rations packed in that set of black bags, so stay clear of'em." She lets the weariness of the trail show, "Mind, the trade was adequate pay -and- a hot meal." She labors at the pipe, and tugged her scarf up a bit. Her eyes stay set on this Vond, character, quietly studying with an intensity that grows more obvious as the others dither over the goods.
Sherl spots something potentially suspicious poking out of the pile of furs and nonchalantly stuffs it back under the pile while rummaging. "Oh yes, hot and fresh." After a good amount of weighing and moving parcels, Sherl passes one up to the helper from the smokehouse and they get some basic meaning across to each other with a mix of Common, Taunka words and hand gestures. The taunka trots down the road with some packs of meat in hand.
Vond has been silently hoisting things beweed sled, scale and cart - he looks young and strong and perhaps mainly there to be a pair of arms for a gnome surrounded by human-sized construction and tools. He's got a vague high-strung manner about him, movements a little more quick and foreful than necessary, and he seems acutely sensitive to being watched, responding with another wary side-eye that grows questioning. He does not appear to recognize her.
She handles the stare with blunt admiration, her words puffing out like the wave of sweet smoke, "Looks like your stuffed your wits back into your noggin. Good to see out here."
The nervous look grows momentarily alarmed, then Vond turns his eyes down as he takes visible effort to tamp down on something between abashed and agitated. "You were out at the camp?" he asks a bit hoarsely. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Happens to the best of us, lad. Not that a bit of distraction hurts, either." She gestures toward the busywork.
"It does?" Vond looks a little perplexed, then considering, tilting his head with a shrugging nod. If not precisely the same, it's unlikely to be the first time he'd been around someone starting to crack up a bit in some way or another, given the everything. "Mn, yeah, that's the idea. I'll be fine," he insists hopefully. "We've got good priests here, and there's always something or other needs doing. I can get ya a key at the lodge if you're arright with them handling your things."
"Maybe not quite a split like yours," she laughs, to herself mostly, "And yea that'd suit me. Though that hot meal would suit me better." She stood, shoving her thumb into the end of her pipe, roughened fingers impervious to the heat that they squelched. "Think you can lead the way first?"
Vond stands as he finishes loading the bulk of the supply from the visitor's sled. "Sure thing." He lifts his head, nodding sideways to the unmarked log building across the way where the taunka is entering after returning from the direction she departed with some bundles in hand. "There's Niloni probably dropping off food now."
"She and I will get this up to the smokehouse, go ahead," adds Sherl who is scratching away at her notepad, and Vond motions the woman along with a roll of his shoulder. Niloni is soon passing them the opposite way, nodding her tall head in appreciation. "Happy cooks," she comments as she steadily makes her way back to the rest of the bounty.
"You from around here?" Vond chances as he props open the door, perhaps picking up on the Lordaeronian inflection, something that's present in his own speech under some possible other influences. "I knew there'd been expeditions to Northrend before, but I guess a lot of us hadn't gotten around enough to know how many people settled here for good."
It's now apparent from the interior of the 'lodge' that it's really more of a no frills hostel. An open door on one end of the house reveals some beds that look decent quality but arranged to accomodate potential multiple travelers without individual privacy, just some racks and cubbies dividing. In the first area, there is no apparent kitchen, simply some seating tables and a fireplace. The walls are arrayed decoratively with further horsey affairs, a rough painting of Grizzlemaw, a symbol of the Holy Light. Vond moves in to pick at once of the bundles that has been left there.
She followed behind him after giving the taunka a nod, "Been here awhile, sure. Lordaeron bred, but I'd wager you guessed at that." Her footsteps hardly make a sound despite her heavy boots, a trait that some might find unnerving if noticed. "Have no reason to leave, now, especially with all the new faces." She whistled softly as the pair entered, unironicly impressed at the place. "Better than camp, look at that. You know, it's not easy to carve a place out in these parts, admirable lot." She makes her way over to sit, groaning in a way that seems more exaggeration than anything. She slips her coats off and begins folding them, "You, lad?"
"Yes'm, way better than a tent or a lean-to." Vond a covered plate and basic utensils from one parcel, and three secure thermoses from the other, uncapping them one by one to inspect. "Water… tea… soup. Oh, mm. Seems good." He takes a brief smell before recapping it to contain the heat and setting it beside a small empty bowl. "And aye, you'll find most've the humans with us are from that way. Who else would you expect to chase this disaster to its doorstep?"
He presses a small iron key beside the untensils. "For the first strongbox," he clarifies. "Some storage at the foot of the bed if you've got anything needs safekeeping when you're off to check the dogs or whatnot. You need anything else? Kettle, cards?"
She seems amused as she puts her things neatly away, nodding to herself as he goes over this amazingly 'kempt' setup. "Don't think I'd want for much more here, you seem to have everything squared away. You -could- begrudge me a good bit of conversation, should you feel able."
Vond hesitates for a moment, caught in the middle of what appears to be triple-checking that everything for the guest is in order. "Oh, um, I should - " He glances out the door quickly. Sherl and Niloni have already gone, with no apparent shuffling things from here to there left out in the open to do. He huffs a bit, still carrying a vague restlessness, does finally manage to allow himself to sink into the wooden chair opposite the visitor.
The covered plate contains some steaming slices of seared venison loin, probably from her own supply, with a basic sauce of drippings, herb and conifer berry probably gathered right nearby. A slab of dense ryebread and decently rich soup of leeks and squash, barley and a touch of dairy in the broth complements the meat. It's honestly good rounded high energy food that speaks to there being a functional kitchen somewhere on the grounds.
Vond settles a bit with a light shrug, looking over with squared shoulders that seem accustomed to heaviness, a wide blink, and a sort of unrelaxed readiness. For what, anyone's guess. "I should thank you for bringing in some good meat. 'S been hard losing the farms out in Dragonblight, but more grain's getting in from the south nowadays at least. Basic fodder for horse'n rider, that's the limiting element. What's the name then?"
She takes the bread, splitting it with her hands and offers a half. There's a long moment of consideration,her eyes flitting about his posture and almost 'jumpy' nature, "No thanks needed, just what we do for our fellows. You can call me Hanne." The bit of bread remains held aloft, as her free hand makes for masterful fork-work. "Been hard losing, period."
Vond nods in slow agreement at that, in plain sincerity. He accepts the bread with another momentary hesitation that he pushes past without protest beyond, "Can fetch summore of course, or get you a loaf for the road when you go," and takes a full bite with a nod of thanks.
"Hanne," he repeats after a chew. "I'm Vond as you heard. Brother Vond if you're the type that cares to count recitations." He does not appear to immediately take her for the type. "Hope I didn't cause too much trouble across the river there. You looking for steady work or just passin' through?"
She goes about cleaning her plate, meticulously snapping up piece after piece, "Didn't cause me any trouble, just caught my interest." She chews with a not-polite manner, just shy of open mouthed. It's more of a way to efficiently hammer through the meal, than cause offense. "Passing through, 'spose. Though this grub is convincing me elsewise, what kind of work considers itself steady in these parts?" Though she's clearly focused on the meal, she surely maintains eye contact when speaking, blues piercing even inside.
"Well, hunting, for one - if you want to keep getting paid by quantity like this, we got that great big smoker to get things prepared for march and market and it's a shame whenever it has to go idle. Some of that supply is like to make it to Icecrown if that's any factor for ya." Vond answers, though he gives an odd questioning glance at Hanne's steady stare.
"'Side from that, plenty of work on the effort to get a couple fields productive, and if y'like horses we're starting to train some from the wild stock. And if you ever fancy trying your aim at some Scourge, well." He opens his palms with an assuring tilt of his head, as if it seemed a given that anyone with a good head on their shoulders might. "Opportunities are abundant."
She finished her meal, setting her utensils quietly within the dish. "Had more than enough run-ins with scourge, as you'd imagine. Plenty of know-how there." She leaned back on the chair, steadying herself with a foot and let her arms cross against the large, furred belt at her waist. "Seems an age since I dealt with horses, the land or like."
Again, that pipe. She tugged it out with a soft grunt and let it teeter between her lips. "Suppose I could keep at the hunt, though I'd like to know more about the folks I'd be feedin', Brother Vond." There seemed a bit of tease behind the title, or maybe that was imagination. "Last men I helped out this way, tried to make a meal of -me-, tried being the hardest worker in that statement."
Vond seems a bit more focused, now, returning an uncharacteristically even look at Hanne's confirmation of Scourge familiarity. He seems to take the handling of the epithet in stride as well, some good humor in his total lack of affront or need to clarify, if not in any other aspect of his bearing. "What would you like to know?" he asks with a look of apparent game openness. "I'd be glad to answer as I am able, and if you wanna corroborate anything with someone who hasn't gone peculiar in recent memory I can find you that as well."
She barks a laugh, "Start with the peculiar, I'd rather. What happened to you mate, seen something like that maybe once before- you doing alright?" There's nothing but concern behind the words, well, maybe some genuine curiousity.
Vond's brow furrows into a passing frown as he stares downward, clearly disconcerted, and either not taking pains to conceal it or poor at it. "Don't rightly know. Wish I did. Still waiting to find out if I'm ever going to get to leave this place." His face is a bit grim when he looks up again, despite the apparent security and material comforts of the expanded outpost, and shrugs a little helplessly. "Probably oughtn't be speaking of it, but I don't take you as out to do harm. Lost sense of who and where I was, briefly. P'raps it'll be decided I'm just yellow, or unaccountably mad. I pray that isn't the case. The Confessor was able to bring me out've it fairly quickly, which I hope to be a good sign. I'm off the front 'til I get a final word."
He adds dryly, a moment after, "No intention of eating anyone." That's what they all say.
She'd been quiet as she'd taken in his account, at some point having removed the tin from before. Her fingertips traced the edges and embossing and her brow had furrowed along with his. She sucked at her teeth, causing the tip of the pipe to bobble violently. When she spoke again, it was quieter, the hushed tone causing her voice to gravel in that particular way granted by her particular vice, "Not normal times, these, though when were there. Our folks've seen the faces of devil's, lad." She finally looks away, considering the tin as she places it on the table with a slow lean forward, "If it's any consoling thought, I've seen bigger men than you, do the same. Maybe not so vibrantly, mind."
Her gaze lifts, warmer than before, "Sure you'll be back wherever you feel, sooner than later. But that's a good'nuff explanation for me, either way." She sighs outwardly, letting the silence hang a bit, the door to speak more of it was there.
"And what became of 'em?" the younger human asks in lieu of further digging on his own lapse in composure, after a simple nod at Hanne's comment on the times, as if it were a matter of course. "The others you'd seen." He regards her as if he suspects she may have seen a lot in her time, and may genuinely have useful input.
"Won't lie to you, some of'em succumbed to their grief, anger. Most dead," she sighs, scratching at her nose, "Either by some idiot martyrdom or their own hand. Though I guess both are sorta the same, if you think on it." She pulls a match out of the tin, raising it questioningly, as she had before. "But -most-…"
"Some consoling thought," Vond is quick to retort, more dour than impertinent, but the stab toward banter quickly dulls to a hush. It's the farthest thing from madness, that familiar look of someone taking stock of their present circumstance and eyeing a small, distant, constricting avenue of escape.
After a moment, the startled eyes snap back to the visitor, keen with concentrated resolve. It might be encouraging or worrisome, conditional to how one tends to reckon a young man who might be characterized as 'a little intense.' "I know it doesn't reflect well for a paladin to be that out of sorts, regardless of what we've seen. Some of what is required of us asks as much confidence in us from who we serve with, as our own confidence in the Light. If it happens that I don't make it out of here after all, I will be counting on those of sounder grasp to finish what we came here for." Vond eyes Hanne pointedly. "It's imperative, wouldn't you say?"
She couldn't help but laugh, "Well my fault for not being in a rush, but you cut off my point." With that she strikes the match, pipe alight and quick to drag.
"What I meant to meander was that most men, like yourself, find that im-perative."
The word is drawn out, toyed with, "I won't pretend to know much of how you carry yourself for the Light, and damned if I believe I've seen the 'light' do much aside bring us into this mess in the first place." There's no malice there, just a matter of fact notion on you-know-who. It clung around her like the tendril of smoke.
"When you take that tumble, forced or not, and are lucky enough to get a moment like this to recover- you have to understand just how strong you are." She clicks the pipe between her teeth.
"You been through things that you'd figure would break you - I imagine long before this, and you didn't." She puts a leg up on the table, chuckling dryly, "So what, son," she began, her tone mild disbelief, "your emotions took you in a spot of weakness, don't let that reflect on all the things you're set to do."
She pointed a finger, "And don't sit there pitying yourself like you're the only one, even if you don't realize you're doin' it." It's strange, the words are soft, the tone both chiding yet apologetic.
Vond leans back slightly, his embers cooling as he regards Hanne with the closest thing to a smile thusfar, neither sarcastic nor offended. "And here I was hoping I'd have gotten a good shot to throw in for Icecrown, more'n anything."
The softened look fades as quickly as it settled. "Aye, you've cut to the quick of why I and I expect everyone else is like to be vigilant on the matter. That's so what. Though in the Light's defense - I'm obligated, you understand - I might question how much mess we've been led to by a man of the Light, versus a man of a certain station."
He shrugs, then, palms turning up, because we're all far too polite to directly skewer royalty here, clearly. "I thank you for your word of confidence in my resilience. Aim to keep the pityin' to a journal I will toss into the river promptlike if it turns I'm set to do anything of note. What brought you here, then, if not to join the campaign? Just good forest as still has living game?"
Hanne snorted, "Got my reasons, surely. Though you priestly types are the kind to get hot about the collar, should you hear it." She settled back into the chair again, nursing the pipe as she fussed at a braid, "Either way, needed a way North. Bud's crew needed a tracker and we found our means together after a stint with the Amani."
She gazes at the table, eyes giving a hint of memories being batted away, "They had a boat, ended up getting paid rather than paying, planned on staying on til I found what I needed."
She shrugs to herself, "Was fine enough til those deaders came through. And the cultists." Hanne offers a flashing smile, pipe clenched between teeth, "Haven't found what I needed, but did show the boys how to put a few corpses back in the ground. Helped those Westfall lads a bit…"
A tail of smoke trails from the corner of her mouth as the smile fades, "Waiting for a sign, these days. I'm getting older by the minute, but the hounds are good company and the trees here sing nicely. Not the worst place to be stuck in a rut, by far."
"'Budd's crew,'" Vond repeats with a mild turn of his head, eyeing. "Budd the troll fella. Didn't strike me as the one in charge." His expression turns from slightly skeptical to disconcerted at the implication. "If I ever - no, it doesn't bear entertaining."
He shakes off the inclination to draw a comparison to some conjecture about potential futures. "And what might it be you are looking for, if I may ask? If you're thinking you ought to be given leave to live well on the land here while younger backs do the lifting, I think you're right." But we both know things don't always work that way. "What sort of sign would speak to ya?"
She rolls her tongue against her lower lip, "How much do you know of shamanism?"
Vond shrugs lightly. "Not my area of expertise. We've had some working with us since they still called us the Dawn, though, and it seems lotta the native folk north here have some form or another."
"Mm. You could say I'm on a vision quest, following echoes, maybe." Her upper lip curls into a half-snarl, half-smile, "Lost a lot, back home. Here to find it, or lay it to rest, as I might."
"You see spirits?" the younger human queries with a note of distinct curiosity, while mulling over the many possibilities the rest of Hanne's suggestion might contain. "If you're out to lay to rest something that up and walked away when it shouldna…" He shrugs again. "In the right territory."
She chuckles, "No, I wish I could, maybe. The hounds do. Special breed, given as a gift." She shakes her head, causing the high collar of her hood to jingle softly, "Not sure how, but their old master wanted to do me a good turn. And yea, well aware. I'm after the king himself, would you believe."
"You've got dogs that are shamans," Vond concludes, with an upward jump of his eyebrows that is almost certainly a little facetious. "One finds a wonder under every roadstone." A little more seriously, he adds, "The Confessor can see haunts, if that's of any moment to ya. I've never been too clear on the distinction between a ghost and an ancestor spirit,."
She laughs out loud, causing the table to shake under her foot, "Suppose you could call'em that. They're good girls, either way, kept me out of trouble." She taps a finger against her pipe stem, "What's a confessor, now?"
"A certain kinda priest. We've several. All the ones I know are both capable battle healers as well as adept mentalists. They're charged with rallying spirits and tending to wounds unseen." Vond gives a tilted nod. "As a blessed turn I work for one of 'em. When I'm not just, uh." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the central crossroads where he had been up to odd busywork. "So I've that to count for finding my footing quickly, most like. As I said, he is canny to lingering haunts."
"So you say, so you say." She thumbed her pipe, eyeing him up, back to studying it seems. "So assume I wanted to stay on, right? There a catch? Do I have to join your particular cult or can I mind myself?" She sat upright with a grunt and tucked the now dead pipe half up a sleeve.
" Do I get a say in fortification, how my goods are stored? If I lent my seed knowledge, get a cut of grains?" Her brow knits, her face almost smarmy, "Seems a bit of an amateur gig up here."
Vond grows more focused when her questions turn to such specifics, as if she might be clearly considering things. "Amateur." The smile solidifies. "Cast around a bit and you'll find us in the habit of doing more with less. But I take your point about fortifications. I think some folk are a little too used to Zul'drak conditions." He eyes Hanne consideringly. "Think you'd find as well that we've had to be flexible to get this far, open to good sense in whatever form it might be found. Those that haven't been are most gone or done up in red and making things worse for everyone. Pragmatic. That's what I'd call the bent, no matter what you might think of the 'cult.' Scads of healers, if that's any assurance." It's been working out swimmingly so far.
"'Course, if you're most in it for the coin, or find the conditions disagreeable, I do know of another outfit that's not exactly Alliance military but has been doing incredibly fine work, and I expect to meet us in Icecrown." He shrugs gently. "Most everything we've got is going into replenishing equipment and carrying us another inch forward. This is something of an outlier minor paradise. So if you want to be more mercenary about it, well."
She scoffs quietly, "Red eh? You mean to say those Scarlets. I get you, I get you." She returns the smile, "And I'm no stranger to doin' what you can with what you've got- still, a weathered eye can play one informative devil's advocate. I happens to have two here, and both of'em see amateur work." She cast an eye around the place. Cozy and kempt as it was, it might be hard to defend the craftsmanship, who knows what she had in mind.
She sighed, more to herself, "Ehh, coin ain't worth a bucket of piss up these parts anyways- trade in hearth and trust is all I'd be like to accept. Tit for tat, and all." Her expression doesnt seem to hide the fact that's she's having a seperate conversation in her head.
Vond gives his head a tilt, more of a skewed nod. "You got experienced advice to share, I'll make sure you get a chance to speak to someone who can make use of it before you head on, if it's construction or defense related. If you're of a mind there are improvements to make, I'm with you on that. The aim is for this place to become safe and liveable, in spite of everything. Something suitable for the young and invalid, and to grow in years to come." He's practically found his voice. At least he sounds convinced it's a reasonable venture.
"The cult here's all about that trust business, you know. Take the truth and connection thing real serious-like." The tone is dry but the eyes are showing more mirth, now. "Could always just trade some of your skills for keep here a stretch 'til you figure on your next step."
She minds him, as if weighing some options she hadn't voiced. It doesn't seem she can help the intensity of her eyes, as she meets his, just the way they look. "You remind me of a man," she smiled to herself, "Had the same look about him, had a mind to make something of a home like that." She laughs once, giving in to the idea, or so it seemed.
She leaned forward on her elbows, repeating his words in a rasp, "In spite of everything. Hm."
She sighed again, the long outward breath becoming words.
"Ah, you've managed to land a snare in my tiny heart, seems. It'd be a shame to come back this way eventually and find anything should happen to a place like that."
Vond's smile is a skewed quirk, a little crooked but unguileful. Perhaps he'd be less flip about the rate of keep if he had seen the size of the dogs, but presently he just looks pleased the traveler is considering some common effort to one degree or another. "Just so. Half the reason I'd care to come to a point of heading on. Couldn't bear to have anything press out'f Icecrown that could head this way, 'least not on my watch." It sounds more like resignation than true youthful bragadoccio. He lowers his eyes to the table, finally, scooping utensils into the wrap they had initially come arranged in, for carrying. "I'm glad you came to us with food, Hanne, and possibly other boons. I've the Confessor's ear if you suspect he might be of any use regarding those things you're looking for. Shall I let you rest a spell? Send over other comp'ny?"
"Maybe tomorrow. Gonna find the dogs, see where there laying their heads tonight. The meal and company was nice though." She collected herself, rather abruptly by most standards, but that might just be her way. "Might ring strange, but I'll probably have my night's rest with the pups." She cracks the smile she'd worn on the way in. "They may get ants in their toes at the prospect of not being able t'see me, and nobody I saw here so far could stop them from finding me should they get the idea in their heads. Don't reckon many would be happy to wake up to that."
She stands, grabbing her coat as she does, and extends a rough, strong hand in Vond's direction. "We'll talk thanks, boons and confessors after a good sleep. I'll stay outta trouble til then, lad."