Outside the Inn, Crunzugr breathed in the early morning air, letting out a long sigh of contentment that was almost musical. Testing out his right hand, he was pleased to discover that the tendons were not sliced through by the wolf's teeth -- only knicked. Despite the stiffness and dull pain that remained, he had mostly recovered from the previous day's events. He shuffled his wrapped feet into the ground a few times, then bent his knees a few times, stretching out his aching muscles. He leaped up a short height a couple of times to test his leg muscles, and stood almost straight up, satisfied. With long wafts, he breathed in the scents of the morning -- the normal variety of scents from the area -- rabbits, the faint scent of a fox patrolling the area, but no wolves. They were long gone, most likely to their den just north of his .. north of the area. With a growl, he spit into the ground, shaking his head. He checked the metal surface of his dagger then sheathed it as he approached the Inn keeper, sizing him up. 

"Rotte do ahkrin, mal Bron! Hi ni mindok daar reythhe ahrk golzze? Sheh. " Crunzugr turned eastward and swept his broad forefinger in an broad arc, indicating an area of the mountains.

"Hi ni fen siiv daar dovah uv aamme het. Daar su het ni drun kos uv rein do niin fah osos sulle..."

Kaldmit looked around and smiled. For some reason he liked snow and he just liked the look of it. He replaced his horn mohawk with a flowing black mane. He then walked up to a tree and climbed it to get a better look at the landscape. Kaldmit saw a group of mages down the road. "Ralund! Kro tum fin miiraad!" he shouted down. He then drew his bow and started moving through the trees.

Yenkry was slowly growing more accustomed to the bitter cold of the land, but she knew that she would never grow fully used to it. Thankfully though, she had the others to break the chill up between them. She kept her hood down, being that no rain came from the sky today. 'Perhaps there will be snow... hopefully nothing.' She began to go through her bag again, searching near the bottom. She pulled out an old, but still well kept letter. Clearly written on the back was 'Mother'. She read the letter again, for the hundred thousandth time, and looked into the sky. 'My daughter, I hope you will one day return to me.' She accidentally spoke the last three words aloud. Realizing what she did, Yenkry looked around at the group to see who heard her.

Thurin merely followed the band of adventurers on their quest. He knew little of what was going on, but he decided it might lead him to new parts of Keizaal, and maybe even to his father's legacy. This thought somehow soothed his heart, and pushed him to keep pace with the group. Not too far down the path, he heard Kaldmit say that there were mages down the way, so he prepared his axe and set it aflame. Sadly, igniting things he can touch was the only thing he could do with fire magic.

"Kro?" Ralund shouted. He glanced through the trees to see hooded figures stumbling along the snowy road. Though their wards shimmered against the wind, they seemed as lost and travel-worn as any in a land such as this. He watched them for a time as they blundered south, unable to tell whether they were man or mer. They seemed to pay no attention to him, or even Thurin beside him with a flaming axe.

"Dein muliil," he told Thurin as the robed figures vanished behind the trees. That magic would surely be useful on the road ahead, against mages or otherwise.

The Argonian came slinking back with an arrow still nocked in his bow. Thank Kyne he had no need to use it. His sharp eyes had spotted the strangers from a long ways away, and those too, would be a bounty on a journey this dangerous. Ralund realized these strangers surrounding him were more capable than he first guessed, a blessing if anything was.

He trudged to keep pace with the orc, Crunzugr, who seemed no more perturbed by the passing mages or the wind than the grizzled rock around him. The same orc had also called him mal.

"Daar reytthe ahrk golzze ni dii hofkiin, ogiim," he growled. "Ahrk zu'u piraak pogaas ahkrin. Zeim okaaz drey zu'u bo, aan okaaz se gaffe." Gaffe or not, trying to one-up this battle-scarred orc seemed like a gaff all its own, so Ralund fell quiet.

They pressed east until the day dwindled behind the frozen treetops. Crunzugr led them down erratic paths that sometimes ran against the contours of the land, but always seemed to carry them forward despite the fact that Ralund felt as though he walked in circles. Still, as the orc paused to test the air, Ralund couldn't help but feel that Crunzugr had as much a destination he was finding as a place he was avoiding.

When the screaming, mountain winds would allow them no further, they ducked into a narrow cavern tucked beneath the foothills. Animal bones had been staked at the entrance, but Ralund was too exhausted to think anything of them. Though the cavern continued deeper, they camped in a chamber close to the mouth. It wouldn't do to get lost in here where not even Magnus's light could reach.

Even away from the wind, Ralund shivered. He turned to one of the Heartland Elves, the armored one with the red eye. "Hi, fahliil-fahdon. Fent mu yah reythhe wah ag? Aal mu drun faad wah daar tum-gol."

Veabris’s horse remained in the opening to the cave Ralund had led them to, while the rest were a bit further within.  She hadn’t liked the long walk over, being slowly led behind her master and pulled by her reins.  Her talents were in her speed, grace and agility, and doing the work of a pack animal was well beneath her.  They should’ve gotten one of those eastern Guars instead.

Veabris was removing the bags and satchels off her back when the Innkeeper and the other Mer left to fetch firewood.  Not knowing how long that would take, the elf quietly searched the removed bags for an Ayleid pot covered tight with cloth. 

Veabris was weary from travel and was sure the other were too.  After that false alarm outside the Inn, everyone had kept their weapons just a little closer, walked just a little straighter.  Now they could use a moment of rest.

Veabris rummaged through one of the bags Ralund left behind and finding that he did in fact bring enough small bowls and plates for everyone.

These bowls were then filled with the contents of the pot.  A creamy, broth-like substance too thick to drink, but too watery not to.

“Golveydo.”  The Mer said while gently placing a bowl in each of their hands.  “Fahliil kip.”

Veabris tried to smile at them, to meet them with reassuring gaze, but the elf couldn’t manage it.  The face showed not a drop of happiness, the eyes telling nothing but weariness and pain. 

The last to receive his food was the Orc.  His bowl and the portion within purposefully larger than the others.  He gruffly snorted but accepted the offering nevertheless.

With a head bowed low, the Mer soundlessly returned to sit by the horse and away from the others.  Three bowls remained.  One each for the two who left for firewood, and a much smaller portion the elf ate of, the little that remained once the other bowls had been filled.

On one hand, Veabris didn’t, couldn’t trust a single one of them.  But on the other, the Mer wanted them happy.  Staying away was the safest bet.  It allowed for one to watch them if they did get to enjoy themselves this night and gave them privacy if they didn’t. 

And Veabris looked on.  Watching those who were now fed and waiting for the missing ones to return. 

Nelithuun went with Ralund to get firewood, and he was now seeing that may have been a bad idea. He had been in this frozen land for a few months now, but he still wasn’t used to the snow, the wind, the cold. He had found nothing but small twigs so far, and knew it wouldn’t suffice. He looked over and saw the large hunks Ralund was carrying, threw his down, and took out his sword. He turned to a dying tree and hacked away at it. It fell into a few large pieces, but it was better than the twigs he had before. He hurried to catch up to Ralund, who had gained considerable distance on him.

“Fen hi ofan zu’u osos mindoraan do Dovahzul, Ralund?” Nelithuun asked, hopefully sparking the first conversation between the two of them.

Crunzugr was satisfied for now. He took a brief glance northward, scanning the scenery he led the group around, before heading into the cavern. He ducked to avoid some rocks in the ceiling of entrance. There were bones strewn at the beginning. He took in the scents of the cave, concentrating on filtering out the mold and other ambient smells. Where the others sat down, he moved beyond them, barely acknowledging their presence, and found his own corner to rest. He bent his tired knees and sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. Breathing slowly inward and outward, he was able to avoid concentrating on his still-aching muscles. He was as content as he would be, but that was broken when he heard steps approaching. That Elf again... He opened his eyes, and, with a frown, saw the approaching Elf carry a wooden bowl with some strange broth in it. He didn't feel like arguing, but didn't feel like placating, either. He accepted the foul-smelling food and choked it down, ignoring his gag reflex. Very soon after, he felt sick to the stomach, and was almost about to vomit it up, but he held it down as best as he could. He felt a sour taste in his mouth. He needed meat.
"Arooooaaar!" yawned the Orc as he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes in concentrating. Ignoring the turned heads of the others, he heard some faint dripping of water in the distance. Drip.. drip.. drip..

Kaldmit was looking at the snow covered landscape when Veabris came up to him and gave him a wooden bowl with what looked like soup in it. "Kogaan, fahdon." and he took the bowl. Kaldmit continued to look at the landscape while eating, his mane was being ruffled by the wind and specks of snow stood out in the black hairs. After he was done eating, he set the bowl down and held it in place with his tail so it didn't blow away. After a while, Kaldmit went into the cave a little bit and sat against a wall with his weapons by his side.

Yenkry had taken, but set down the elf's food, not in the mood to eat. She was still thinking about her daughter. Looking back down at the bowl, she decided it would be best if she did eat. After she was finished, Yenkry went into the cave, following the Argonian. She had decided to become aquainted with him. "Zu'u Yenkry. Siigonis, wo los hi?" She stumbled over the words, but she had grown a bit of understanding as she was with this group. 

Thurin followed the Orc on the winding, arduous pathway, but he found it easier to traverse than the rest of the group, as he was hardened by his previous travels. Upon reaching the tum-gol, he rejoiced a little inside. Shelter was always welcome, even to a wunduniik like himself. Once he entered, he located a decent place to unload himself and start a fire.

After he set his stuff down and relaxed for a bit, he was approached by a fahliil with a bowl in hand. Thurin took the bowl and nodded in gratitude. The liquid in the bowl didn't smell quite like what he was accustomed to, but his gut gut reminded him just how hungry he was, and he began to drink it down. Every vew sips, he would choke, as his throat was damaged, and some of the stew would run down his beard. He soon managed to get the bowl emptied, albeit only most of its contents made it past his mouth.

Some minutes past, and he heard that the barkeep and an Elf went out to gather some firewood. He didn't remember either one having an axe... or any survival tools, for that matter. So, he lifted himself from the cavern wall and headed out. It didn't take him long to find the pair, as the broken twigs and footprints had created a clear path for him to follow. In order to make himself noticed, he stamped his boot on the stone and wrote [Drem] in the air with flames. After the two had looked at him, he tossed his axe at their feet.

They had taken longer than Veabris had thought they would.  The Innkeeper and the brother-Ayleid.  The large Atmoran man had left after them at some indiscriminate time, as well.

The Mer’s eyes glinted as they narrowed in thought.  Three out getting wood and three others waiting.  And then there was the mysterious Ayleid who sat by the horse’s feet.

How they had not killed each other by now was a miracle itself.  The races of Mer and man somehow finding equal ground, with those beasts impressively still living as well.

They had all shown to be formidable, and by happenstance or divine will, they all found themselves in the same predicament.  Somehow all agreeing on what certainly was sheer madness.  Return a mask to a Dragon.  The Dov as they call themselves.  For just a moment the Ayleid doubted the sanity of their “leader”, the Innkeeper.  Did he expect a Dov to take back the mask and let him live?  He ill-fated the lot of them, and Veabris wouldn’t go down with him, or any of them if it came to it.  Even the Orc, who the mer started to doubt if it had been The Lady’s wish the save him, though the only way to know would be to ask her.

Veabris hadn’t prayed to Merid-Nunda since saving the Orc.  Being so close to others had prevented the elf from having enough privacy to comfortably do so.  They were at the mouth of a cave, and if it was deep enough, it would provide the perfect seclusion. 

Rising from the ground, the Ayleid spoke the horse, telling her in Ayleidoon to remain where she was, and that she was a good girl.  She nuzzled her owner in response.

The mouth of the cave itself contained a few chambers, some quite shallow, others rather deep.  The beast folk had occupied one of the slightly deeper ones.  Veabris was sure to avoid them while scouting out the cave. 

Soon one of the chambers reached deeper, uneven and sloping down.  The mer’s staff served well as a torch.  Glowing blue with Magicka, illuminating the rough rock walls.

The walls thinned the deeper into the cave Veabris went, until finally coming to a fissure just wide enough for the largest of their party to squeeze through.

On the other side of the fissure the walls spread wide into a large cavern.  Veabris moved the light but could not make out the ceiling from where the elf stood.

A sound like feet on rock in the shadows caught the mer’s attention, who spun quickly and held the staff in both hands, magicka pulsing.  

“Wo het?”  Veabris exclaimed.  “Man sino?”

The words echoed off the cavern walls for an eternity before a single shadow crept towards the light of Veabris’s staff.

The shadow mumbled to itself, voice shaky and pained.  Stepping into the blue light, Veabris saw the thin, pale face clearly.  Icy eyes staring gravely into start-lit ones, before ultimately speaking.

“Falkynd sino.” 

Falmer.

Drip...drip...drip.

Not yet nodding off, Crunz maintained his slump against the wall, and started to think again about the previous day’s events. His concentration was regularly broken by his aching stomach.

He heard off in the distance the steps of That Elf as headed away from the rest of the party. He opened one eye briefly to confirm. He only caught a glimpse before the cavern wall cut off his brief view. Now distracted, he tried to close his eyes again and concentrate, but after another minute his gut clenched with more force this time. He immediately got up and started to head toward the entrance, but realized only a moment later that he wouldn’t make it and would have sprayed the center of the cavern, including the Argonian and Khajii resting there. A split decision -- he turned and darted down the cavern the elf had started down. He could only hold it for so long...

"Blaaarrrruurll!" The fluid sound echoed up and down both sides of the chamber Crunzugr was in ans the the entire bowl of soup splashed all over the rock and moss of the cavern. The Orc was on his hands and knees, panting. When he recovered, he got up to his feet with a groan, the stench of that swill filling his nostrils immediately and causing his stomach to start to tremble again. To get away from the stench, he stumbled further down the darker cavern room a few feet and crumpled into another corner. He ignored the scrapes and the shallow cuts on his rough hands, but he couldn’t ignore his ever-growing hunger. He would need to eat soon -- meat.. He slowed his breathing as best he could. Good enough for now.

Drip..drip..

After a few moments, Crunzugr was sure he could hear footsteps and the scraping of cloth which no doubt was that elf doing -- curses -- he didn’t care. He settled back down and tried to rest, focusing on the soft echoes of footsteps and scraping of clothing. A soft hum and glowing light started to penetrate the cave. He opened his eyes. That Elf was saying something, but he couldn’t pick it out at first. He figured the elf was paranoid that someone was following her.

“Faasnu,” he growled, not caring if the elf heard or not...

Kaldmit woke up to the sound of the orc puking. He looked over and saw Yenkry sleeping next to him. Shaking his head, he got up, picked up his weapons and walked out of the cavern. Kaldmit then looked deeper into the cave and saw the faint outline of the orc and as he did, the smell hit him like a wall and he gagged. Kaldmit then walked back to the mouth of the cave to get some fresh air.