[The Red Diamond] Fires and Frozen Days [Open]

[Mayjor]

Mayjor walked into The Crystal Cavern from the brisk cold weather outside; he rubbed the gnosis mark on his right shoulder blade absentmindedly. A whole lot of good it was doing him in this weather, for even the gnosis mark could not shield him from this sharp chill. Grateful for the warm fire, the young man strolled in, hung his coat on the rack neatly, and collapsed upon a seat at the bar a couple seats down from a rather large Kelvic and a girl. The girl seemed to be around Mayjor's age, however, she acted and held herself as though a young child would. Confusing.

Undeterred, Mayjor relaxed in his seat. He admired the warm fire, the warm and friendly atmosphere of the tavern, and thanked that he decided to stroll in. The place could've been livelier - It was practically just him and the two mentioned prior. However, he didn't really mind. As they say, three's a crowd... any number of people could be interesting, given a chance.

He raised his hand, attempting to call attention to himself; he doubted the bartender even noticed he had enter, as she seemed particularly interested in the Kelvic and his story. He didn't blame her, however, as judging by the amount of people here, it must have been the first interesting thing she had heard all day.

"I'm sorry to bother you miss, but could I snag a drink by any chance? Don't really care what; I'll take whatever you recommend." He asked. His curiousity peaked, he turned to listen to the Kelvic man's story. He loved a well-told story as much as the next, so he attentively began to absorb the tale. Thankfully, it appeared as though he had caught the beginning, and had not missed any vital parts. The only thing he needed to truly enjoy this was a nice, strong drink.

[Yuralria]

Yuralria stepped out of the cold and into the Crystal Cavern with relief. It was frigid outside. Even those with Morwen's mark were shivering, and she didn't have that pleasure. Her eyes shifted from blue to a mischievous violet hue as she realized the trouble she could get into in a tavern. Being small she couldn't hold her drink worth crap, and she was a rather crazy drunk. She had been expressly forbidden to 'partake of any mind-altering substances that could cause her to get in any more trouble' and that made her want to get faced even more. Glancing around she noticed that the Tavern really wasn't that busy, she she couldn't do too much damage, though there was a large man who she knew to be on the Icewatch. An unbonded bear. It appeared that he was about to tell a story, and, troublemaker or not, she was still a Vantha. She walked over to the loose grouping by the fire and pulled up a chair. "Could I get a pint quick if you don't mind?" she asked in a deceptively casual tone. "My name is Yuralria, I'm from Whitevine" All pleasantries aside, she prepared for a nice story and a wild night.

[Ykala]

It was an odd feeling. The tavern was unnaturally still and quiet, with only Viktor and Ykala being the only visible people in the room for some time, then without warning, three others stepped in, one which was quite hyper as well, and moved their separate ways around the Cavern. They weren't with each other it seemed. Still, there was work to be done now. Ykala turned to look at Viktor as she smiled. "Ykala. I'll be right back, there are people that suffer from a sober tongue." With a final chuckle, Ykala stepped past Minosayaa, who she assumed was far too young to be allowed alcohol at all, and moved directly for the man, who was a little more appropriately sized for a Vantha than certain Bear Kelvics she had recently met. "You aren't a bother at all. Call me Ykala, formal titles make my skin crawl." As the tan skinned woman moved behind the bar, she stood directly in front of Mayjor, a firm smile locked on her face. "Personally, I recommend the most expensive thing and as much as you can afford." A joke obviously, though she wouldn't mind a large sum of Gold Miza in her pocket. "I prefer the beer over the ale personally. It's a bit more expensive, and I like a little honey in it myself. I'm not comfortable choosing for you though. I could offer a silver for a mug of ale, or two for beer." Then, without warning Ykala leaned over the bar and moved her head next to Mayjor's, whispered quietly in his ear. "If you can give a good tale though, I could offer you one on the house." Ykala leaned back behind the bar and started retrieving mugs. "I'm surprised by how many Vantha know how to tell good stories sometimes." After preparing both Mayjor's and Yuralria's drinks, she would move around the tavern, offering them to their new owners, then, with as many people were here now, thought it best to stay behind the bar herself. There was no telling if or when another influx might occur.

[Viktor]

"Ykala." Viktor said, toying with the name on his tongue. "So the name is as beautiful as the face it belongs to!" He teased, issuing another hearty laugh. He was still racking his mind for a good story now that he had a larger audience. The art of story telling was one that had alluded him for quite awhile, despite living amongst natural story tellers. He considered the story behind the vantha people, a tale well worn by constant retelling, but that was the very issue. "I think I may have to just pay for the next mug. It seems I can't think of any stories that haven't been told a thousand times already." He admitted defeat, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a single gold miza. "And I'm sorry to disappoint anyone else who was hoping to hear me ramble, although if anyone else would care to take the reins and entertain us..." He left the offer hang, getting up to go set the coin onto the bar. "That should cover my drinks for the night as long as I stick to the ale." He said with a sigh before turning to reclaim his seat by the fire.

[Ykala]

OOCPeople are taking too long and I'm impatient. I'm posting out of turn. Sorry guys. Ykala grinned at the cheesy line Viktor offered her, though it was flattering, it was also followed by a laugh of his, and quickly by her own. "Oh, I feel my heart aching for you already. She did, however, frown as Viktor placed the gold rimmed miza on the counter, rather than attempt a good tale. She was wanting to hear a good one, but then again, she did need money. With a smile returning to her face, Ykala slapped the coin with her open palm and lifted her hand, making the coin appear to disappear as it stuck in her hand's grasp. Without making a big deal of the cheesy trick, she placed the coin in her pocket and filled another mug for Viktor. "If you don't have one, then I suppose I'll have to do it for you." There was a shimmer in Ykala's eyes as she carried the next mug over to Viktor, taking her place once again next to the fire with a soft sigh. "I assume you know much about Mother Morwen, but I bet you didn't know this about her..." "Long long ago, not as old as Ivak's wrath that tore the world apart, or even his imprisonment, but it is roughly four-hundred years now. Morwen was, as she is today, powerful as a God, cold as a glacier, strong as a man, beautiful as a woman, but longed for a people to care for. Children of her own to raise, to rule, and most of all, to love and care for. Morwen walked the world of Mizahar, now almost barren of life from Ivak's wrath. Morwen went to the southern Jungles of Falyndar, but did not find the trees welcoming and caring enough for her beloved future children. Morwen went to the western Deserts, but the dry air would never be kind to those she dearly loved. Finally Morwen found Taldera, Morwen found her, and her children's, home. However, Morwen found that there was already a man that lived in Taldera, a man that was not frightened by the cold nor lessened physically by its chilling effects. This man Morwen approached, and with a kind tongue she asked him, "Stranger, you alone thrive in these lands. Why is it you seek solitude here?" Morwen waited silently for several minutes as the stranger did not respond, but merely watched the flames of a small fragile campfire devour the air. Several minutes passed before the man so much as glanced upon Morwen's face to acknowledge her existence, and yet he did not answer. Morwen repeated herself. "Stranger, I ask you again, why do you live in solitude in these lands?" Morwen again waited for the man's reply, but none came. For three days Morwen waited, watching over the stranger until his fire itself froze under her presence. Three days until the stranger spoke."To you I will not speak, I answer not to man. Nobody can stop me, so I do as I can." Morwen was upset by such a comment, but kind as she was, did not smite the man, but rather, spoke again. "Stranger, you have mistaken me for a mortal. I am Morwen, Goddess of Winter. I wish to give birth to my child, Vantha, here in these lands." The man, hearing that Morwen was none other than an immortal, rose. Morwen then saw that he was a large man, so tall that her own head only came to his neck. From under his cape he pulled out the largest sword that Morwen had ever seen. Finally, the man spoke. "You understand not the position you're in, Morwen of winter and Goddess of snow, You saw death in Valterrien, now at last your own you shall know!" Ykala paused a moment, her typical yellow golden irises had at some point shifted to a bright bluish tint as she drifted into the raging fire. It took a moment for Ykala to pull away and look at Viktor, was he even listening?

[Viktor]

Viktor grinned at the sight of the fresh mug, even more so once Ykala began telling him a story which sounded vaguely familiar. As the story he continued he grew increasingly certain that he hadn't heard it before. His fists clenched unconsciously at the idea of someone taking arms against the goddess he had vowed to protect, even if it was simply a tale set four centuries in the past. He watched as Ykala's eyes changed colors, a feature of the Vantha he had always found fascinating. Then she turned to him, apparently checking to see if he was still listening. "Please, continue. I can't wait to hear how Mother Morwen disposes of the fool. I'd put two gold mizas that she freezes him and shatters him into a million pieces!" He toyed, his face briefly disappearing beneath his mug.

[Yuralria]

Yura sat, enraptured as the story unfolded in front of her eyes. She had always had a good imagination, and it just got better with alcohol in her system. She sat listening, nursing a mug that was way to big for her. There was a slight pause as Ykala stopped to see if people were paying attention. Victor certainly looked enraptured. He had probably not heard this tale before. Yuralria certainly hadn't, and she was enjoying it immensely. New tales were always welcome to her. In her opinion, some of the older ones were told too much. Victor made a rather humorous comment before Ykala began again. Yura couldn't help but reply."That would make for an awfully boring story. the tale would end too fast, And you know Morwen is too kind hearted for that. It's not her style"

[Viktor]

"Of course, but as a predator assigned to her protection, it's only natural that I wish him a slow and horrible demise." Viktor said with an innocent smile. "But I agree, it would make for a rather short tale. And she is one of the few I know that wouldn't attack a man with a blade pointed at her." He admitted, turning back to Ykala in anticipation of the rest of the story.

[Ykala]

Ykala had a peaceful smile frozen to her face as her eyes moved from Viktor to Yuralria. They were discussing, or perhaps even debating, what their favorite Goddess would do in such a situation. It made Ykala pleased to know they were so interested in a story like this, her father's story, perhaps even older than that. Ykala didn't bother to comment on their little discussion, there was no need, only to tell more of the story. "Tall as the stranger was, and strong as an ox he was, he was no match for Morwen's powers. Though he gave her much trouble, wielding such a large and unnatural blade as he did, Morwen did smite him down. A mere swipe of her hand across the man's neck and the throat was shattered into shards of ice and frozen dust, and even the blood had frozen so quickly that not a single drop was spilled. As expected, the body fell as the head was severed."Stranger, it is on this day that I will remember your death as it is also now the birth of my people." With Morwen's victory embraced, she started to move, searching then for a place to create her beloved child-to-be, but before she left, the voice came again, the stranger was not slain. "On this day your soul is cursed! Morwen the goddess, your name I spurn. Your people you make will be devoured. Their lives I'll take and their cities I'll burn! Fear the darkness you cannot slay! Fear the evil that watches you! I will not rest 'till my blade strikes true!" It is said that never before had Morwen felt cold, but at that moment, the beheaded man talking, made our goddess chilled with unsettled nerves. Never-the-less, Morwen had a child to birth, and Vantha, on that cursed day, was created. From the frozen grounds, Morwen and her child built the City of Avanthal. It took exactly four seasons to complete this task, and four seasons for the stranger to return. Morwen was out walking Taldera as her child, Vantha, had produced many daughters and sons, the Vantha people we are today, when she came across that battlefield a full year before, but what she saw was more than a shock. There was the man in black cloak, sitting by the campfire, watching it burn. No longer was he headless, no longer was he slain."You! Villain! These lands are no longer yours. I, Morwen, Goddess of Winter, have made a home for my children hear. Our home welcomes all, save for the cursed as yourself. Leave, I demand it, else I'll end you once more." The man was silent for a moment before standing, much like he did a year before, and again he held that same, enormous blade, the sword that hungered for Morwen's blood. "I warned you, Ice Goddess. I warned of their fate. You cannot save them now. You are too late. The children they cry. Their fathers lay dead. Their mothers they die. It is as I said." Morwen, enraged by this awful appearance and crude threats, did not let the man make the first strike, but froze his body where it stood, and with a single blow, struck the ice so that the corpse was no more but powder on the snow. Convinced now that the man was slain, Morwen returned to her people, but the omen was true. Her people were gone. Morwen, stricken by grief, wept, knowing now that she was cursed. She again made her people and brought new life to Avanthal, certain now that her curse was lifted by the man's death."

[Viktor]

At the mention of Morwen's first slaying of the man Viktor couldn't resist nudging Yuralia with a hushed "I told you so!" But as the man's voice relayed the dreadful threat, he felt the same chill crawling up his back. Which he quickly drowned with another swig from his mug. Even still, he was a bit on edge for the rest of the story. The ending however, set him at ease again, after all, it was just a story. "Ah yes, and of course the curse was never truely lifted. And in the middle of winter, while Morwen is out bringing snow to the rest of Mizahar, the man will return to Avanthal to exact his revenge!" Viktor laughed. "If he ever returned, I'd tear his precious sword away from him and use it to..." He paused for a moment, stopping before he went into the gory details, "Well, let's just say there he wouldn't be coming back. Ever." He cracked his knuckles for emphasis before finishing off the rest of his drink. "Oooo, that is why she created the Icewatch right? So that just in case the man ever did return, her children would have guardians to at the very least hold the man off until she returned!" He clapped his hands together in excitement, under the impression that he had guessed the last part correctly. Whether or not it was true, he didn't care, although that did serve to remind him of one thing. "I'm sorry, you were finished, correct? If not then, please, continue and I will say no more!"