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[Tobias]

;)

On the 17th of Fall, 513 Years After the Valterrian.

…Now we found a solution, how neat it does make,
If that old Widow insists on nothing but virgins to take,
No more will our number ever grow small,
We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!

The patrons of the Blue Bull sang – well, more like shouted - the last line with Tobias, and pounded their feet, and smashed their cups together. Most were well and truly drunk, Tobias knew, but that suited him. Drink had a way of loosening purses, which was never a bad thing. He grinned. Plus, it was good to hear someone else sing every once in a while, even if all the voices were tipsy and off-pitch.

The hour had grown late, and only a few flickering flames lit the tavern before him. In the shifting light, it was almost impossible to tell that the majority of the men drinking and dancing before him where blue-skinned. Tobias could have been anywhere in the world right now – in Zeltiva, in Alvadas, even in Syliras. Where there was men, there was alcohol; and where there was alcohol, there was money to be made. For the past six years Tobias had lived off dives such as this.

Tobias had been playing for a couple bells now, though, and his throat was getting more and more dry. He excused himself from the musician’s dais and made his way through the crowd on the dance floor, pushing past men much larger than him and the occasional woman too. It was curious how exalted women were in the city of Riverfall – but then again, the akalak were a dying race, as he heard. Certainly the blue-skinned giants had no women of their own. That was probably why they treated the women of other races so nice.

As he reached the bar, however, any thoughts of racial behavior fled Tobias’s mind. He wasn’t oft a drinker, but he was no lightweight either, and right now a drink was exactly what he needed. “Ale,” he requested, throwing a silver onto the bar, “Smoky blue.”

As he waited for his drink, Tobias turned back and looked over the crowd of men and women behind him. He felt something stir within him, and any joy he might have felt when the others sang along with him faded away. Everywhere he saw a smile, but he felt no such expression twist up his own face. Even here, he was an outsider. Men asked women to dance all around him, and vice versa, but nobody asked the musician.

“Rhaus, you have made me an outsider,” Tobias chuckled, and behind his laughter he knew that wasn’t the reason at all.

OoC1 sm subtracted for mug of ale.

[Kirsi Winterflame]

Timestamp: 17th of Fall, 513AV

Kirsi had come to hear music, to be surrounded by people and fake a sense of camaraderie she had yet to truly feel in Riverfall. Her days were spent in the shop with Garob, alternately tending the sales floor and wrestling mostly unsuccessfully with clay in the workshop. She had no complaints about the daylight hours, it was when the sun went down that a wistful loneliness crept in. The tales and songs of Avanthal were never so missed as by Kirsi in the evenings.

She was not so naive that she didn't realize, in a city full of Akalak men, that she could have filled her evenings easily. In truth, she had considered it - but tonight she sought only good company, entertainment, conversation. The trouble, as Kirsi saw it, was that a combination of those elements seemed to be in short supply. Oh, it was certainly entertaining, watching the tavern patrons lose themselves entirely in spirits. And no woman could ask for more attentive, protective company than Akalak men. But conversation?

Falling back on an old adage her grandfather had often quoted, Kirsi had resigned herself to the fact that beggars really could not be choosers, and settled in for a pleasant evening at The Blue Bull. The bard had surprised her.

He was nondescript in nearly every way until he opened his mouth. The rolling baritone seemed to fill every corner of the tavern, sneaking in, low and commanding, under the general din. Eventually the music perforated the ale-induced haze of the patrons and conversations began to hush, allowing the words to surface. As more and more people focused bleary eyes on the singer, voices joined in throughout the establishment until nearly everyone was an artist, contributing his or her own voice to the song.

It was a raucous, bawdy finish to his performance, and though Kirsi did not join in with the crowd roaring an accompaniment to the singer, she added her applause to theirs at the end.

With disappointment, she watched as he exited the dias, leaving other musicians behind to carry on entertaining the jovial crowd. She debated only a moment before threading her way through the throng of people to make her way to where he stood. Passing through, she managed to dodge most of the suggestive comments, and overly-solicitous would-be dance partners - demurring with a slight smile and a shake of her head. She felt a small swell of pride that she only had to extract herself from one pair of muscled blue arms on her journey and wondered with mild amusement if the evasion tactics she employed at the tavern would come in handy at the Sasaran.

Mere chimes later, she found herself standing next to the bard as he surveyed the crowd. He murmured something seemingly meant for his ears alone as he surveyed the room. Sparing not a second thought at interrupting his perusal, she stated her thanks simply, in a most un-Vantha-like manner.

"You have a wonderful talent. Thank you for sharing it."

[Tobias]

Eyes like dusk found a sight that caught him altogether off guard. A mouth crinkled with pleasant surprise even as a dirty brown mug was raised to its lips. As the woman’s words fell upon his ears Tobias caught her up with a gaze, and he inclined his head in gratitude.

“Thank you for your compliment, my lady, but I would say ‘talent’ doesn’t have much to do with it.” Tobias replied in self-depreciation. “When I first started out singing, my voice was compared to the sound of a crow squawking, and not favorably either.” Arms burnt by the sun raised in a shrug, and Tobias chuckled. “I had to sing the same three notes every day, for a year, before I was finally on pitch...and even then I was only decent. It took a good deal of work to get where I am today, and I still have much to do before I’m the best.” Tobias raised his glass in a mock toast. “But that’s the way of the world, ain’t it?”

His smile turned somewhat solemn. “Still, though, I thank Rhaus everyday for giving me the tools to cultivate my voice. It is my breadwinner, after all, and any extra mizas it nets me is well appreciated.” And the solemnity disappeared in an instant and Tobias laughed in full. It was a rich sound, almost like his singing, and a marked improvement over the brooding of only a few chimes before.

However, as Tobias’s amusement faded away, an errant thought reflected on how strange it was that ten little words could change one’s entire mood in a second...but at that moment Tobias didn’t much care.

Tobias took a sip of the smoky blue and felt liquid fire fill his lungs. He stood just a little bit straighter. “I’m Tobias,” the bard said by way of introduction. “And you are a Vantha, from the look of them eyes. You are a long way from home, my lady. May I have the honor of knowing your name?”

Tobias settled back against the bar and let the mug fall against the pitted counter. He had eyes only for the woman next to him now, and nothing else. So far he had done much of the talking, and was curious to see what she had to say. Something about her interested him. Tobias desired to find out more.

[Kirsi Winterflame]

A ghost of a smile played about her lips as the bard spoke of his early vocal struggles. It was difficult to reconcile the image he painted with the performance she had just witnessed, but he spoke so matter-of-factly about it that it was evident he saw his version as the truth. And then he spoke of his God. Of Rhaus. The reverence and respect with which he thanked the God of Music was telling in its sincerity. Refreshing. Interesting.

Kirsi was familiar with bards and storytellers who worshiped Rhaus. In her experience, the worship was a good deal more casual and less grateful. As though the God should be glad that they paid him reverence, and reward them for such. It had always seemed a backward process to Kirsi; you didn't worship a God expecting to be repaid for it. You worshiped a God because they were a motivating force in your life, in your art. In your joy. In that moment, Kirsi envied the bard his worship; she worshiped Morwen, of course - as did all Vantha. But a personal connection to a God or Goddess yet eluded her. That was not a problem for tonight, however. Tonight was about good company, entertainment, and apparently - surprisingly - conversation.

"Tobias," she repeated with a smile, "I'm happy to meet you. My name is Kirsi." Here she paused, hailing the bartender. Pulling a silver coin from her pocket, she placed it on the bar. It gleamed dully in the dim light of the tavern as she made her request:

"Mug of Winterberry, please."

Eyes in varying shades of blue and violet turned back to Tobias as she continued, "And, as you guessed, a Vantha far from Avanthal - though now I call Riverfall home. Its a far cry from the snow and ice, to be sure, but not without its own charms." There was more she could have said, more she could have shared about her home and her reasons for leaving it, but it was heavy and involved and not fit for casual conversation. She was spared further details by the arrival of her ale and picked the mug up immediately.

Though she had initiated the conversation, she found the bard's unwavering focus a bit unsettling. Kirsi stared into the depths of her mug for a moment before bringing it to her lips. One sip convinced her the ale would not be a regular occurrence; it had a slightly sweet tang, true - Winterberry Ale should remind you of berries - but the bitter aftertaste was a flavor she had not yet developed a taste for.

She set the mug down, deliberately, its heavy clay thunking lightly onto scarred wood, worn to a dull sheen from years of arms and elbows sliding across its surface. It wanted carving, she thought, fingers lightly tracing over the surface.

Looking up, she met Tobias' gaze once more, head cocked curiously to the right. "And you, sir bard? Is this your home or--" the question was interrupted as she was jostled by an overly delighted tavern patron. The impact sent her hand knocking into her mug of ale; the dark amber liquid sloshing over the rim and onto the bar's surface. A hasty and laughing apology descended from the lofty height of an Akalak who was gone as soon as he'd arrived, weaving his retreat with a fresh mug of ale in each hand.

"--or have you traveled here from somewhere less interesting?" The question finished on a chuckle as she cast about for something to mop up the spill.

Ledger-1SM

[Tobias]

Eyebrows met as the akalak spilled Kirsi’s drink, but any thoughts the bard might have had went unsaid. Instead, he seemed to be mulling over her responses, even as he gestured to the bartender for a cloth to wipe the spill up.

“Riverfall is no home of mine, ‘tis true,” Tobias said at length. “I have traveled from places less interesting, aye, as well as from several equal in interest, perhaps even greater. It is a crooked path that has led me to this grand old city.” His smile was wry. “But as for the place I last visited, well, that would have to be the city of illusion – Alvadas, of course.” In his voice mingled the accents of a thousand cities, long and slow here, fast and clipped there, confusing in its utter lack of nationality. There was an undercurrent of his home, however, rich and dark and evoking images of a desert homeland and a proud people with a proud tongue to inhabit it. It was the accent of the eypharians that underlined Tobias’s speech.

Tobias continued speaking after another sip of his smoky blue. “I’ve been to many a place indeed, but I’ve never been to Avanthal. I hear it’s populated by musicians and storytellers. Is this true? If so, I might have to visit ‘the snow and ice’ myself.”

Annoyance so recently sidestepped flared again as another of Riverfall’s blue giants bumped into Tobias this time, though luckily his drink was still waiting unattended at his elbow. Though no reproach left his lips, drawn lips pursed in what was undeniably exasperation.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation over by the hearth, my lady?” Tobias said in a low voice. The invitation was benign enough, and Tobias looked directly at the grotto abutting the main dance floor of the Blue Bull as he talked.

Though he spoke out of aggravation, there was still a ghost of a smile when he added, “Perhaps then we won’t be victim to attacks from all sides.”

[Kirsi Winterflame]

Unlike the eyes of the Vantha, the bard's gaze did not paint his tale with the colors of emotion. Just the same, as he alluded to cities both tame and tempting along his journey, Kirsi got the distinct impression that he was revisiting them, however briefly, in his mind. When he mentioned Alvadas, the unfamiliar name piqued her curiosity; she had heard much about every city in Mizahar - or so she'd assumed. Alvadas was new to her. Though her research had been in an effort to choose an initial destination upon leaving home, it had since become habit to learn about new cities and cultures. It was impossible to tell when or if such information would be of use.

But Tobias was asking, as everyone did, about Avanthal. The storytellers, musicians, craftsmen of Morwen's icy reaches were known throughout the land. Many who had not visited the snowy city were already possessed of what seemed like 1000 questions and a certain level of admiration that Kirsi felt pressured to maintain. So when Tobias asked about the bards of Avanthal, Kirsi offered a wide smile. With a nod, she began to reply, "Morwen's people are gift--" She stopped short, seeing that the bard, though certainly well-regarded after his performance, was not immune to the jostling that she herself had experienced earlier.

So his suggestion of a change in venue was well-timed, and well-received. Kirsi nodded, following his gaze to the much quieter grotto where, certainly, they would be spared the rigors of a jovial, inebriated crowd. "A wise idea, I think. I'm fairly certain I don't have a commanding enough presence to hold my own in the current crowd," the words were light, and uttered with a smile. Her slight stature had long ago ceased being a cause for lament. Even before she'd left Avanthal, she'd grown accustomed to being the smallest one at most gatherings. In Riverfall, the difference in size was so exaggerated as to be almost comical.

The musicians, agreeably enough, had come to the end of their tune, and the crowd on the dance floor thinned marginally. Dancers milled around aimlessly with no tune to guide their feet, and Kirsi recognized the opportunity for what it was. "Shall we?" With a game smile for the bard, she seized up her ale and wasted no time picking her way along the outskirts of the dance floor, the path of least resistance to the welcome calm of the hearthside grotto.

[Tobias]

When Kirsi mentioned her lack of a commanding presence, Tobias’s smile drew thin. The feeling of anonymity was well known to the bard as well. He had a ‘normal’ face, all said it was so. Some might have found that saddening, but to Tobias it was a gift; if he looked like everyone else, after all, how could your enemies possibly find you?

The smile Kirsi bestowed on him was received just as gamely, and in response Tobias gave a mock bow and a grin. “We shall,” he said jocularly, and with ale in hand he accompanied the vantha across the dance floor. He couldn’t help but notice how much the crowds had thinned since he had taken the dais. The other musicians were not that bad, honestly, but they were not anything special either. Then again, neither was he. So what had inspired the change?

The answer to that would have to wait. Any last lingering notes faded away as Tobias followed Kirsi into the grotto, where a fire was already twinkling merrily. The halfblood hooked a hand around a branch of aged firewood and cast it to the blaze just in case.

It was late and the only other patrons at the Blue Bull were nursing hangovers or creating them, so the two had the grotto all to themselves. Tobias settled into a chair close to the flames and, drawing a hand across his eyes, turned back to Kirsi.

“If I’m not mistaken, I do believe you were about to mention Morwen back there,” he said without missing a beat. “I must say, I know little about the goddess of winter. Can you tell me a little about her?” Tobias inclined his head. Morwen was the goddess of the children of the aurora, was she not? But then again, this was Riverfall, not Avanthal. Perhaps Kirsi had come because she worshipped another? “I mean, I assume you pay respects to Her, but perhaps I am mistaken. I for one have little time for the gods of mine own forebears.” Tobias smiled again, but there was little humor this time.

OoCSo sorry I didn't post this at the time I promised to. My computer crashed while I was writing it.

[Kirsi Winterflame]

It was noticeably more peaceful in the grotto, and Kirsi allowed herself an inaudible sigh of relief at being out of the crowd. Not normally bothered by throngs of people, the prospect of inadvertently wearing her drink had been a minor cause for concern. So it was with a smile that she settled herself into a chair and her drink onto the solid surface of the table, well within the circle of light cast by the hearthfire. The fuel Tobias tossed into the flames cast cheery sparks whirling into the air, and Kirsi paused a moment to enjoy the sight.

In words worn well by repetition, the Vantha began to tell the bard of her homeland. "Avanthal is ruled by the Goddess Morwen year 'round. Though she leaves us for one season in four to travel and bring the...joys of winter elsewhere," it was cheeky, the emphasis she put on the word, but not insincere. Being marked, as most Vantha were, with Morwen's gnosis, Kirsi was able to find more enjoyment in the icy conditions of Avanthal than many other people might.

"In Avanthal, the beauty of the ice never fades, and many Vantha are inspired by it. Long nights by a hearthside fire," Kirsi nodded to the one they sat near, "and being surrounded by year-long sparkling ice and glittering snowfall are worthy reasons to be inspired. The Vantha are long practiced in putting that inspiration into tangible forms. Bards, storytellers, carvers..." Kirsi shrugged lightly before finishing her earlier thought: "Morwen's people are gifted."

After pausing to consider the bard's words, the assumption that she worshiped Morwen, Kirsi nodded in agreement. "I do worship Morwen; I love her - for the Vantha, Morwen is..." the words in common sounded plain, unworthy of the depth of feeling that Morwen's people had for their goddess. She switched first to Vani for the simple word, "Mother." And then, with a shake of her head, resorted to the common speak that the bard would understand, "She is the beginning of us, the protector, the law..." It was frustrating; this conversation which had started so simply was turning into something serious that stretched the very limits of her basic grasp of the common language.

Swearing softly in Vani, Kirsi laughed and gave up the effort for now. "I'm sorry. Do you speak Vani? I don't know the words in Common. Morwen is like our Mother, but more. I worship her; I can't imagine not worshiping her." It was a fact of life, as far as Kirsi was concerned; Vantha worshiped Morwen. Of course, that did not mean that she was the only deity held in high regard. Many Vantha worshiped the bard's God of Music, or various others that they felt a connection to. Kirsi herself had recently begun learning of the God Tavasi, the God of Spring and new beginnings.

Regarding Tobias curiously, she asked, "If you don't mind - who are these Gods that you have so little time for? Is Rhaus so demanding that there is no energy left for others?"

She was teasing, light hearted, and she hoped that the bard would accept her words in that fashion. Some people were proper and fussy about their religion, but Kirsi felt that if there was no joy in it, also, it was wasted homage indeed. Still, she smiled to show she meant no offense, sipping at her ale while the bard formed his answer.

OoCI'm awful - pestering you for a reply and then taking forever to post my own. So sorry!

[Tobias]

Tobias swirled the remnants of his drink as he listened to Kirsi speak. He was a fairly good listener. He smiled and nodded in the right places, made the appropriate noises, and kept his attention focused on the vantha as he spoke. And truly, this sort of thing caught his interest, the tales of other lands and other places. Half of his life had been spent in one location. How could he not be interested about Avanthal?

“It sounds like a wonderful place.” Tobias said wryly. “Wonderful, and very, very cold.” He chuckled, and then let Kirsi continue on.

But when the woodcarver tried to find the words to describe her goddess, and when the common tongue failing her, Tobias leaned forward and spoke again. “I’m afraid I do not speak Vani, my lady…common and the trade tongue, yes, but not your people’s language, I’m afraid.” He neglected to mention that he spoke Arumenic as well, but why would he? That would hardly help here.

“I think I get the gist of what you’re saying, though,” he continued softly. “I had a…well, I had a brother once. He thought of his gods much the way you think of Morwen. He placed a trust in them that I never could.” Tobias chewed on his lower lip, and looked away. What was he doing? He didn’t know this woman. And yet…

And yet it was too late to stop.

“My brother, he’s gone now.”

He laughed halfheartedly when Kirsi turned the conversation back towards him. “No, my lady, it’s not that Rhaus takes up all my time, it’s just…well, the way I was raised, worshipping my people’s gods – well, it was almost to be expected, y’know? Like…something I was just supposed to do. And I did – pray to them, I mean. I paid homage…though perhaps not with as much fervor as my brother.”


“The thing is, Kirsi, well – I’m a simple man, truly. I can’t just…keep faith without any sort of return. All the temple priests say that it ain’t about the reward, that faith is about trust and not about sight and all that other bullshyke, but…well, the gods can walk the earth, for heaven’s sake. The least they can do was show up when you needed them the most.” His voice broke then, and wasn’t that the damnedest thing?

Tobias stopped, paused, allowed himself to recover. “So…so I stopped worshipping those gods. Now, Rhaus – Rhaus has blessed me with my voice and my skill, and for that I keep a candle burning for him. But for the others…” Tobias shrugged. “They don’t have time for me, so I don’t have time for them.”

He fell silent then, and stared off into the flames. For a chime the only thing to be heard was the crackle of burning wood, and the distant murmur of the tavern’s crowds. The Blue Bull was only a short walk away, truly, but to Tobias it felt a lifetime away.

At last, he spoke again: “If you don’t mind me asking, Kirsi, if Morwen is your mother…than why are you here in Riverfall?”

[Kirsi Winterflame]

Falling silent as Tobias began to speak, Kirsi welcomed the reprieve; putting her faith into words in her own language would be hard enough, but to translate such elusive thoughts into common was simply beyond her. Tobias seem to understand well enough, though his eyes refused to meet hers as he spoke of his brother.

Listening with equal parts interest and sorrow for the pain still so clearly evident in the bard's words, Kirsi took another, less-regrettable sip of her drink. A glance into her cup proved it nearly half-emptied, and idly she wondered if she would manage to enjoy the taste before the finish.

In the silent aftermath of his story, she considered Tobias' words, before venturing her response. "I wonder if it is a matter of time. I don't pretend to know the Gods' reasons for their action - or inaction."

His question gave her pause; it was a fairly common question, really, she'd answered it several times. Somehow, for no reason she could pinpoint, Kirsi found herself reluctant to offer her usual glib response to this man. The honest emotion in Tobias' words demanded equal measure from her.

Slowly, she spoke, coming to terms with her truth even as the words left her lips. "To be honest, I left for entirely unreligious reasons. I was an old maid."

If the words sounded bitter, it was an old bitterness. One she'd grown accustomed to, if not yet gotten over. Familiar with the feelings, she shrugged lightly and continued.

"I'm 25 years old. In Avanthal," she went on matter-of-factly, "if a girl remains unmarried by age 20, she is considered an 'Icemaiden'. An old maid. Beyond hope..." Never much of a storyteller, Kirsi couldn't find a way to make her tale entertaining instead of slightly sad, and softly concluded it. "I suppose I just didn't want to be beyond hope."

For a moment, she considered the words; the shortened version of her story contained all of the information one might need to consider her a pathetic and sad little child. It was an image Kirsi immediately hated and so she forced a bright smile for the bard, whose sad tale she had repaid with one of her own.

"So I spent some time saving and learning about other places, where a woman in her 20's had more to offer than her hand in marriage. Other religions to accompany those places. And here I am. I guess, in a way, I'm searching for my God. Or Goddess. Not, I think, unlike your relationship with Rhaus?" It was a question, but not one that Kirsi waited for an answer to. "A connection that goes beyond birthright; one that resonates."

The term was musical, and caused a ghost of a smile to flit across her face as she considered the bard. "Is that selfish of me? To chase a new way just because I didn't like the label of the old one?" Kirsi had never considered it a selfish decision, but hearing the words aloud had made her second-guess herself and she wondered what the bard would make of her story.