Colm Teague, the stolid adjunct of ice-blue eyes arrives, delivering a message to Hamish before departing.

It's not a short trip. Or an easy one. This isn't really the time of year to go off the beaten path looking for forgotten passes and lost keeps. Worst because the map provided makes it clear that though Cragievar Dun was the choke point of a long defile that lead directly into Aviaron's back yard, changing conditions mean it can only easily be accessed from the non-Aviaron side. So there's a long ride through some mountains or a longer ride around them, but thanks to some landmarks and some luck (the Archlector clearly knows the area, but some things are a little out of date, his cartographical skills are limited and also the map might have been copied over from something scribbled on a napkin) the group find themselves at the entrance to Cragievar Pass. Probably. It's hard to tell. Because there is no pass. Though a good clue that there was probably a pass entrance here is the way that a rockslide has piled up, the result of which disguises it from the very few people who might just casually pass on by.

Perronne delights in planning trips off the beaten path, and even more in GOING on trips off the beaten path. The joy radiates from her as she checks over lists, suggests rest stops and itineraries, and once they're on the road, chatters with enthusiasm about the local trade routes, weird historical facts, flowers and...really anything else that comes across her mind. Introverts beware, because Perronne will talk the ears off any listeners, and when they flee, talks to her horse instead. She's dressed for travel, and for ADVENTURE! including her armor, and a sturdy staff affixed to a back strap.

With a prance to his step and a flirty swing to his narrow hips, Riagnon is perfectly adept at treks through the wilderness. He also loves contributing to the conversation, even if most topics are likely to go clear over his head. His leathers are muted natural tones, perhaps contributing to him blending in more with their environment as he hop-steps atop a larger rock. Rising up on the balls of his feet and stretching up his head on his neck, he pops up to get a look around.. like a prairie dog.

Ophne makes it her mission to take in everything she can - even if that entails lots of mountains and snow. Outfitted in her red and black hand-me-down armor, she has added a slightly dramatic swagger to her step, apparently feeling that the spiked epaulet she wears demand a more showy stance. She listens to the chatter and adds her own here and there, usually a blunt smart-mouthed reply. She cranes her neck, gaze scanning the surroundings curiously as if making mental notes.

The Acherons may already be familiar with Corporal Kamantha, a burly man with a fondness for not working, hiking, showing off portraits of his young daughter Kamantha Junior, and all-expenses-paid trips. He has been assigned with protecting the Lords and Ladies on what the Marquessa assured him will be a PRACTICAL PLEASURE VACATION. She put a lot of thought into her selection. Only the best and most serious for her siblings.

He slows behind one of his charges, Riagnon, and begins picking the remnants of his crunchy brittle candy from where they have fallen into his neat beard, eyes narrowing in concentration.

Perronne blinks, wide-eyed, at the first blunt, smart-mouth reply from Ophne, and from then on is markedly more careful with the young Lady, her Oathlands formality coming out as she tiptoes on conversational eggshells...at least until they reach the blocked pass entrance, when her natural enthusiasm can't help but shine through. "Oh, this looks promising. And like great fun! Has everyone done some climbing before?"

Well, the whole thing is blocked by a rockslide. Can't get over that! Time to go home. Over before it started. At least everyone got a good walk out of it. Then again, it hardly looks impassible! Just a bunch of rocks. Looks like someone could climb up. If they were careful. Who knows how long it's been there? Maybe other explorers have made it this way! Though hopefully not, since other explorers would take all the good stuff. When one knows what one is looking for the pass is obvious. A long defile that was likely carved out of the foothills between two towering peaks by a river long slowed to a trickle. The walls of the defile are the dull gray of dolostone, long slabs of agrillite suggesting the river was once quite a thing to see, but the rocks blocking the way are irregular lumps of pale gray limestone.

Perronne checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 32 higher.

Ophne checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 16 higher.

Riagnon checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.

Rhea checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 7 lower.

Everyone but poor Kamantha, whose parents must have had a very different child in mind, can tell immediately that this wasn't natural. Someone intentionally jammed up the entrance to the pass.

"I can climb anything," Riagnon announces broadly from atop his perch, balling his hands into fists and planting them on either side of his waist. He strikes a confident pose, almost immediately losing his balance in the process. "Gwhaa," he whines cosmetically, hopping off the rock before he _falls_ off.

"Sir Kamantha," Ria pouts grimly, gesturing in a cutting motion toward the rockpile, "It almost looks like someone jammed up this entrance on purpose."

Either Ophne has eyes in the back of her head or she's got a finely honed candy sense. "Sir Kamantha, didn't your mother teach you to bring enough to share with every-" The sentiment is forgotten mid-sentence as she eyes the pass and nods, gesturing to her brother. "Looks like it. That's just plain rude of them."

"Reckon so, my lord," Kamantha gravels, voice befitting his appearance not unlike a laconic mountain man -- even if he delivers the reply in immediate yes-man fashion and still appears focused on scavenging leftovers from his facial hair over REALLY looking. He finds a choice piece and pauses short of chewing it down, offering it in a meaty hamhock to Ophne. "Course, milady."

"You ain't figure we can just walk around?" he goes on to ask Perronne with a flex of his caterpillar brows, looking from her to the climb and back again. "I ain't wearing my good cleats."

Perronne runs her fingers along some of the limestone blocks, her eyes shining. "This looks like Bleeding Realm era stonework. Maybe once part of a wall?" There's an enthusiastic nod of agreement towards Riagnon. "Maybe to hold off an invasion?" she muses. "I've seen that before, as a last ditch effort. Although usually either it's successful, and cleared. Or the invaders break through. It still being up usually isn't a good sign." She grins at Sir Kamantha. "It's possible there's another entrance, but there's no guarantee it's not in just as bad a shape, and we don't have guidance to it. I suggest we go up and over here, personally, although I defer to Lord and Lady Acheron, of course."

"I have snacks," Riagnon blurts helpfully, but also a bit competitively. Both hands probe after the food pouch attached to his belt, double-checking that it's still there. "If there's another unblocked entrance, it's likely to be under watch. I think it's less likely for anyone to suspect us going up and over. If we can," the knightling's voice drifts into silence as he pays Kamantha's choice of footwear a doubtful look.

Perronne checked strength + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 23 higher.

Ophne checked dexterity + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 28 higher.

Riagnon checked strength + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 3 higher.

Rhea checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 20, rolling 14 lower.

Ophne turns to cast Kamantha a smile, which in Ophne's case is really just an easing of her habitual scowl. She stops mid-reach as she realizes the man is picking leftovers out of his beard, swiftly snatching her hand back. "Uh, on second thought, you can keep it." Riagnon earns an approving look for his offer of snacks, much preferable to Kamantha's.

She shrugs her shoulders, turning attention to Perronne. "This place is just as good as any then. Looks like we're in for a climb. How hard can it be?"

It's not a pleasant hike, that's for sure. And one can imagine that were the river still running the stones would be treacherous in the summer with water running over them and covered in a thick sheet of ice in the winter. Even now stones shift and, as Sir Kamantha finds out at one point, can easily come out from under ones foot, leading to brief knee traumas and loudly spoken cusses. Thanks to that little hiccup the whole process takes a little longer than it otherwise should, but eventually they get over the jam and then get to climb down the other side. Once through though, it's all easy going. Just a few miles of knee deep snow up a pass, that starts only a few yards across, but stretches out as it goes along. The walls of the defile are sharp, rugged cliff faces which might be climbable, but would require equipment and considerable skill. It was reasonably sunny on the other side of the jammed up pass entrance, but on this side it might as well be evening, as the pass is narrow enough that little light gets in through the opening above.

Riagnon checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 14 lower.

Perronne checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 2 higher.

Ophne checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 8 higher.

Rhea checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 7 lower.

Kamantha shrugs, happy to keep his beard candy for himself. "Fine," he grumbles after a CONSENSUS is reached, very begrudgingly attending to their business. "I got a bad knee," he adds as clean rationale for taking up the rear guard, well before any traumas. He survives each of them, naturally, even if he looks white as a ghost after they get over it. "Ain't right, whatever they did to this place. Should have left cleared stairs and ladder layin' around," he wheezes. It turns out he's not much of a hiker either.

"It's not too bad," Perronne says, cheerfully, to Ophne as they ascend. And then Sir Kamantha slips and slides, and there's a wince from the explorer. "But, uh, still be careful!" She glances at Riagnon and Ophne. "Don't suppose either of you are accomplished healers along with the rest? Just in case?" But she seems confident and happy to be active, although as they continue, her expression turns more serious, and she starts scanning the area whenever she stops to catch her breath. She moves closer to the others, and mutters, "I think...does it feel like we're being watched to anyone else?"

One does not simply scale a deliberately placed cave-in without proper sustenance, and after sharing with his sister, the sound of Riagnon's own crunchy chews join those of his footfalls on the rock. He slows as it becomes clear that Kamantha is having trouble. "No," Riagnon chirps in answer to Perronne's question about being watch, all the while crinkling up his nose and leaning in to dumbly observe any possible injury Kamantha might have suffered. He has no medical training.

Riagnon gets Rivenshari Stolen Ginger Cookies from an all purpose snack pouch and belt.

"Best brother today," Ophne declares of Riagnon as she begins munching upon the snack he shares with her. Sustenance for climbing, of course. She winces sympathetically as Kamantha takes a tumble, glancing back over her shoulder to ensure that the man is still mostly in one piece. Perronne's mention of healing draws a shake of her head. "I can probably slap a bandage on someone, but that's about the extent of my healing knowledge." Which is to say, she knows nothing. As they continue along, her eyes narrow and she turns to glance at the others in the party. A faint nod is offered in Perronne's direction. "You feel it too? Definitely feels like there are eyes on us." Frowning, she eyes the surroundings warily.

It's a homemade wall in back, steep walls on either side and a whole lotta nothin' straight ahead. But the map says that whole lotta nothin' is where you're all headed, so there's not much to be done about it. At first it's every bit as much of a trudge as it seems it'll probably be. Which for some Perronnes is probably an Exciting Adventure and for some Kamanthae more of a reason to appreciate easy access to a nice chair and maybe a cozy blanket. After an hour or so of slog thing begin to get easier in a way that suggests at one point there was an intentional path here. Which isn't too surprising. Eventually the way is blocked again, though this blockage is a bit more impassible than the first. Perhaps half a mile off there is a wall that stretches the two hundred or so yards from one side of the defile to the other, easily twenty five feet tall and, though certainly old, still in good enough condition to do what walls do. There were once a pair of towers behind it, which is evident since one of those towers has at some point collapsed sideways into the pass's wall and is still mostly slumped there. Beyond the wall is a central keep, Cragievar Dun itself, an ugly sprawling thing that is still mostly intact, though any part of it that was wood could use some work.

Riagnon checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.

Rhea checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 2 lower.

Ophne checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 21 higher.

Perronne checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 21 higher.

"Couldn't be," Kamantha's ragged throat is slowly recovering, though it is unlikely to be anywhere near NORMAL for the rest of this trip. "Only madmen would be up here. Not that we're mad, we're just doin' our jobs. Jobs." He coughs harshly, then clears his throat and reiterates, "Just a job."

(He's giving Perronne a weird look.)

His whole craggy face lights up when they see the keep. "You reckon there might be a good couch in there? Ain't care for a bed right now, but a proper couch would be something after all that."

All Perronnes love walking through untraveled wilderness, even when there's snow, and cold, and rocks, and gods only know what lurking about. She's whistling a little under her breath as the hike and winks at Kamantha when he gives her that weird look. But as they continue, she takes the staff from its position on her back, and starts using it as a walking stick. "This is getting creepy to me," she mutters to Ophne. "Is it getting creepy to you?" If she can catch the others' eyes without being too obvious about it, she tries to subtly parts of the outcroppings. And not even the sight of a Genuine Ruin can quite take the concern from her eyes.

Riagnon's expressive brown eyes don't conceal his [eventual] epiphany, and the knightling begins looking over his shoulder more. Or up and around at high points in their natural surroundings. "Oph-" Ria murmurs to his sister, "You're an archer," his gaze shifts to his sister, though his body language shifts so as not to appear to be speaking to her, "Where might you set up along here if you were standing vigil?"

"If that's the case, looks like the madmen have joined us," Ophne notes to Kamantha, although she takes care to keep her voice at least somewhat low. She adjusts the heft of her bow on her back, eyes narrowed briefly toward the outcroppings on the cliff face, a quick glance and away. "Sure is," she remarks to Perronne. "Right up there, Ria, is where I would be perched. And so are our friends." She flickers a glance up toward the cliff face, a hand closing around her bow just in case.

Kamantha's surprise is genuine and plain as can be. "They sent another group to get the place ready for us, did they?" Why, now he's beaming, peering up at the cliff and ALMOST beginning to wave. Just almost. It takes a moment for him to catch up. "Oh, you mean bloody shavs," he mumbles morosely, checking to make sure his sword has not, in fact, fallen off in any of the numerous times he's fallen. He's good.

And so they are. A half dozen men and women, or at least a half dozen who have decided to make themselves known, stand on narrow outcroppings in the cliff face. They wear clothes of the sorts of neutral colors that might blend into stone, a patchwork of leather and wool, though all in the same color range. If the outfits didn't give away that these are shavs and not some Oathlander knights that made a very wrong turn at some point, the arrows pointed at the group would. Each of them has a slash of white makeup that goes over their left eye, suggesting at a scar. The only one without a bow, presumably the leader, has an actual scar there, his eye a milky white and his face no friendlier for it.

"Who are you," calls out the scarred man in Arvani.

This is the point where Perronne, as an independent operator, would usually back away slowly and go find somewhere else to explore. She sidles back behind Sir Kamantha, and says, "Hopefully not bloody! Let's try to avoid any sort of blood, yeah? That is usually a mutual process, and I like all my blood where it is. Inside."

Riagnon's body language shifts, at first hopeful that Ophne really does indeed mean it when she calls them 'friends,' but then shrinking back down when Kamantha mentions Shavs. Hand going to the clip securing one of his pickaxes, prances sidelong to acquire a slightly more defensive position. Partway blocking his sister from any incoming attack... if that's even possible.

Eyes nearly bulging out of his head, Ria side-eyes everybody present. "/Who are we/?" He asks them in a sharp whisper.

Ophne blinks, casting Riagnon a sidelong stare. "Umm, not ourselves, right? Just a group of explorers? Aren't YOU supposed to be the one who knows about diplomacy and stuff?" she hisses accusatorily at her brother. She has no such expectation, really; she just knows /she/ doesn't know how to respond. She adjusts her hand on her bow although she keeps it pointed down for now. No sense in antagonizing the shavs just yet.

"Uh." Kamantha wets his lips. "Uhm." He glances at Riagnon and then Ophne, squinting. "Uh..." He slowly releases his grip on his sword and turns towards the cliff, clearing his throat before very clearly calling out, "Hungry and sore and in need of just a moment, fine fellows atop the cliff. JUST ONE," he assures them, lifting a hand in gesture before looking to the Perronne, blinking.

Perronne checked wits + etiquette at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Perronne looks from Riagnon, to Ophne, to Kamantha. After a moment, she clears her throat, and suggests, in a low voice, while watching the folk on the outcroppings, "We're coming to explore rumors of potential family connections, historically, between House Acheron and these fine, upstanding folk. We'd be humbled if they'd extend hospitality to us so that we might share information and perhaps discover ancient bonds of friendship and, uh, not-killing us."

"UH, No," Riagnon's eyes get EVEN BIGGER, his thick black eyebrows hiking up toward his hairline- "I'mtheonethatturnsintoab-r," he hisses to his sister from behind gritted, smiling teeth. Smiling is good, right?

When Perronne sees fit to answer, he shifts his weight and boyishly adds a firm, "/Yeah/," to back up her statement.

The leader seems genuinely taken aback when the question of who they are appears to be something worthy of some debate. Perronne's response gets a chuckle from several of the shavs, though when Kamantha takes the diplomatic lead the chuckles are louder, but also perhaps a little less laughing with you than they were for Perronne. The leader says something in Northlands Shav, which leads to a brief conversation.

Hamish says in Northlands shav, "What do you think?" Another shav, "Let's kill them and go home. I'm hungry." Another, "Eh. I want to see what they have to say." The leader, "You don't want to go home because your wife thinks you're avoiding her." Another shav, "That's because she IS avoiding her." More laughs. Then the third shav says defensively, "She's VERY pregnant. She's terrifying!" More laughs then one who hasn't spoken yet says, "The one looks like an adventurer. He likes adventurers. We should let them pass." The chief narrows his eyes and says, "Are they Aviarons? I can't tell." "No one can tell! When did we last see an aviaron?" "Just kill them. We can go somewhere and find something to eat and then Shel won't have to see her wife for another few hours."

The conversation elicits several laughs, but then Perronne is speaking again. The chief makes a face and looks to his fellows, then says, "What's an Acheron?" The others all shrug.

"Like an Aviaron, but newer," Kamantha explains wide-eyed, in a very hushed mumble not meant for the people with sharp arrows pointed at him. "Tell them that."

"Well, so am /I/, so what kind of excuse is THAT, Riagnon Acheron?" Ophne demands in another hissed whisper, her free hand perched upon her hip in bratty sister posture. Gaze flits to the shav, her scowl growing as they laugh. "Are they laughing at us? They're laughing at us!" Indignant. "House Acheron, you've not heard of it? We're just here to explore, like she said," a gesture to Perronne. "We don't intend to cause any problems."

The last said with Ophne's voice pitched high for the shavs to hear.

Perronne's hand twitches, like it wants to come to rest over her face. "They're laughing...with us," she suggests. "Mostly. Because we're kind of ridiculous." A rueful sort of humor as she admits that. She considers for a moment, then steps forward to say upwards to the shav. "Representatives from House Acheron have traveled here in the spirit of peace and friendship to discover what happened to the people of Cragievar Dun, as our histories are sadly incomplete. We ask for the honor of your indulgence and a time of peace that we might get to know each other. We mean you no harm! To whom have we the honor of addressing?"

Perronne radiates a mixture of 'friendly' and 'please don't shoot me'. It's surprising how well those two emotions go together.

Riagnon's ears prick at the use of the Northern thieves' cant. He fires something back in the same language, his voice rising an octave or two in pitch as he tries to project it.

Riagnon says in Northlands shav, "Listen, we've ALL got wives we're avoiding!"

Hamish says in Northlands shav, "Did any of you ever hear of Acheron?" "I feel embarrassed." "I can't tell if I want to kill them or just go home." "Is killing them because we feel bad a mature response?" "Just let them go. He'll figure out what to do with them." "My wife is wants a goat shank. Every day! We don't have that many goats." "Oh, the squirrelly looking one can understand us." "Hello, there."

There's some more chatter in Northlands Shav, but then Riagnon's comment cuts it short and the leader finally gives them a nod. "Go ahead, then. Lords and Ladies of the Acheron. I hope you find what you are after."

"Yeah, that's good thinking," Ophne remarks to Perronne after the woman speaks up. She turns to elbow Riagnon. "Ugh, Ria, what'd they say and then what did you say in return? Did you tell them I won't fill them with arrows if they don't shoot at us first? Huh?" Ophne Acheron, no future as a diplomat. She does at least lift a hand to the shav leader as he appears ready to let them go ahead without issue.

"You speak shav?" Perronne gives Riagnon a Dubious Oathlands Side-eye (tm). But there's no doubt that it /worked/, so she doesn't add a Disapproving Oathlands Sniff. Instead, she smiles at Ophne. "Normally, I'd say we were hoping to open trade relations. But that's, uh, treason. So I don't do that." She does bow to the leader of the Abandoned group as they let them go. When people don't kill you, be polite!

"I was meant to marry into a Prodigal house before," Riagnon defends himself with a frown, "I picked up some of it from that! Anyway, they were mostly talking about their burdensome spouses. And goat shank. I don't think they're going to kill us. Honestly, it sounds like whoever lives yonder is more likely to take us out." He gestures forward in the direction the group is heading. "Oh, and they talked about House Aviaron. Can we find a long lost Aviaron? Rhea would hate that."

The shavs watch them for another moment, then disappear back into the rock. Clearly they know the place pretty well. One of them women stops and calls out, "I love my wife very much!" Then follows the others.

Kamantha? Kamantha looks mightily impressed, even moreso when the shav calls parting word. He look at Riagnon in wonderment, then pauses and tell Ophne and Perronne, "We really ain't supposed to do that. Find a long lost Aviaron, I mean. I heard the Marquessa scr--I mean, talk very loudly about tossing them off a bridge if one showed up."

Rhea says, "Or feeding 'em to the basement bear, whatever that meant."

"Yeah, probably wise to avoid treason," Ophne agrees, nodding knowingly. She narrows her eyes at Riagnon as if dubious about his summary of the conversation - that is, until the shav yells about loving her wife, and then she seems willing to take her brother's word for it. "Did they say exactly who lives yonder?" Her gaze shifts thoughtfully between Kamantha and Riagnon, lips pursed in thought although the last remark draws a smirk. "If we find one, Ria can make the introductions but I want to be there to watch. It'll be /fine/." The last added to Kamantha.

"It would be politically inconvenient," Perronne admits. She can't help but laugh a little at the shout from the shav woman, and she returns a cheerful thumb's up in that direction. She's sixty-five percent certain that's not a horrible, insulting gesture around here. "Aw, they're not so bad." Then she clears her throat. "So, uh. My briefing on what exactly we're doing or expecting up here was heavy on the 'fun ruins to explore' and low on the 'horrible people wanting to kill us', so I gotta ask - does that ratio of expectation need to be adjusted?" The mention of 'basement bear' makes her arch an eyebrow. "What is it with Northerners and bears?"

"Yes, they did," Riagnon puffs out his birdlike chest confidently, "Whoever lives in that direction is definitely someone who identifies as male."

And that just leaves them and Cragievar Dun, ancestral home of House Crathes, and to be honest kind of a pit. It was probably warm and welcoming- well, never, its meant to be a blockade against whoever might come screaming up this pass to make a special delivery of pointy things to Aviaron's Peak, but it was at some point someone's home, at least.

With the walls of the defile much farther apart here there's more light, though it's a queer sort of twilight for most of the day. There's a lot of the Dun to explore, but the central keep is certainly the most promising part of it since it's the most intact.

"Same thing your folks have with goats, I reckon." Kamantha eyeballs Perronne. "With less milk. More fur." He shrugs and begins the trudge. Willingly in front, no less! To the keep! "You reckon they have had couches back then?" he asks. "The Bleeding Realm or what have you?"

Perronne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 35, rolling 18 higher.

Riagnon checked perception + investigation at difficulty 35, rolling 12 lower.

Rhea checked perception + investigation at difficulty 35, rolling 20 lower.

Ophne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 35, rolling 30 lower.

There was once a gatehouse and presumably a gate, but both of them have collapsed into the bailey. Which admittedly has made the whole idea of the wall a bit less useful, what with the big hole in the middle. The bailey has a few small buildings, presumably barracks and granaries, but this definitely isn't the sort of seat where there's a nice little town in it. Likely the county's peasants lived further up the protected side of the pass, but here it was all people involved in the business of fighting off shavs. The buildings here might contain fabulous, or at least interesting, treasures, but they'll be buried. The keep seems the most promising.

"My part of the Oathlands is more about sheep. So many, many sheep. And they don't eat you, just are so stupid they wander off cliffs and into ponds too deep for them. But they're cuddly," Perronne protests Kamantha's words. "And they did. Actually. Have couches in the Bleeding Realm period. Some rather lovely styles, actually." She's polite enough not to launch into a lengthy explanation of them, but the gleam in her eyes says she /wants/ to. As the keep comes in sight, her whole face lights up. "Oh, this is magnificent. A proper bastion in the era's style. No frills. Not like the Silly Years, but quite serviceable. I bet that if we had a crew and a few weeks, we could find some amazing examples of armor--" She breaks off, and comes to a halt, holding her hand up for the rest to stop, as well.

"Do you hear that? It's a woman, singing. It's...beautiful."

"Wait. The sheep are stupid enough to just wander off of the cliffs to their deaths?" Ophne demands of Perronne, sounding possibly a bit more disdainful than she intends. She lifts her gaze, eyeing the surroundings for a moment as Perronne's last remark finally sinks in. "What singing?" Perhaps she's still envisioning those sheep, but now she pauses in an attempt to listen.

"I've been bitten by a sheep," Riagnon contests, his expression contorting into one of extreme helplessness as the memory is conjured up in his mind's eye. Perhaps this is why he mostly zones out as Perronne expresses her admiration for the architecture. He throws the others a confuselled look when the Oathlander speaks of singing.

"Yuup," Perronne drawls at Ophne. "Sheep are incredibly dumb. They're pretty much wool, parchment, and mutton, and there's not a lot of room for brains left." Her eyes don't leave the keep. "Someone is definitely singing up there." She starts to move forward again, carefully. "If I start screaming, or running towards the sound, or anything...weird, please hit me on the head very firmly!"

Riagnon trails after Perrone and readies the hammer-like end of one of his warpicks, freeing the weapon from his belt and bouncing it in both hands. "I'll knock you right out," he assures Perrone with a few childish nods made in quick succession.

As they get closer everyone else can hear it. Singing. A voice clear and strong. Beautiful enough to stand amongst the Compact's most famous singers. There are no doors on the main entryway of the keep and snow has blown in. Inside is the sort of disarray one finds when a group of people abandon their home very quickly and then a couple of hundred years go by. The stuff made of the better wood remains, some tables, a chair, and enough of some tapestries to make out depictions of heroic last stands and that sort of thing. The entryway is narrow, with a grand dining room through a series of doors to the right and what was presumably the room for receiving guests on the left. There are stairs in the back. The singing is coming from the receiving room. Inside the words are clear, though they are in nox'alfar, so probably don't mean much to most people.

Ophne nods agreeably, probably deciding Riagnon's warpick will deliver a more effective bonk to Perronne's head than one of her fists. She follows along, eyes widening as she takes in teh sight of the keep's interior. "You weren't also supposed to be marrying one of them, were you?" she whispers to Riagnon. "Might be helpful to know what she's singing." Footsteps light and cautious, she eases her way through the house toward the receiving room.

Perronne eyes the warpick. "Um. Leave the skull intact? I need that! It's very important." But the singing is so strange that her half joking response is also half-hearted, with most of her attention on the keep. Even the tapestries, which would usually warrant at least a half-hour of excited jumping and cataloguing, get only a quick once-over. "Is that shav?" she asks Riagnon, who has clearly become Shav Expert in her eyes. She follows Ophne towards the receiving room, her hand tight on her staff.

"No," Riagnon answers simply. Apparently, in response to the multiple questions and requests posed to him. Face contorting with concentration, he listens hard. Listening is hard! "That's no tongue I've come to understand, that's for sure."

"Sounds like only one person in there." Unless the singer has an audience. "Let's go say hi. Or gesture 'hello' if they don't speak our language? I'm curious what she's doing here." Ophne shrugs, glancing to the others for their input and jutting her chin out as she moves toward the receiving room.

"But didn't the people back there say there was a /guy/ living here?" Perronne says, a little worriedly. She glances at Riagnon again...but let's face it, she's as curious as a cat, so when Ophne heads into the receiving room, the merchant is right on her heels.

When Ophne peers inside she sees the enormous receiving room, its vaulted ceiling having once gone all the way to the third floor of the keep, with little balconies on the sides and lots of room for formal dinners. The ceiling is gone and as a result the light inside is very queer, with long, deep shadows in one place and bright sunlight in others. There are several piles around the room, though it's hard to tell exactly what they are. In the back of the room is a very impressive throne, given that the Count of House Crathes must have been fairly poor, and to what will eventually be Perronne's delight it's in great condition. It's in the closer corner, shrouded in shadw, that the singer can barely be made out.

The singing abruptly stops for a moment. Then picks up, this time in Arvani, singing a very old Oathlander song about sheep that went a-missing because one decided to explore and the others decided to follow and then wolves ate them all up. Oathlanders love a song with a nice moral lesson.

"I thought they said, 'he,' but it IS possible to get these things wrong, Ophne," Riagnon says defensively, stretching to peer in from behind his sister. When the song turns to sheep, he swings around to stare very expectantly at their resident sheep expert: Perronne.

"Is it?" Ophne retorts, casting Riagnon a dubious look. When the singing shifts to Arvani, she casts Perronne a wide-eyed look. "Do you know this song?" And then another thought occurs, apparently the only logical one that seems to arrive in her brain with the link between Perronne's talk of sheep and this new sheep song. "Does this person /know/ you?"

Perronne stares at the throne. Her eyes widen and there's a little...squeak of excitement under her breath. If it weren't for the mysterious singer, it's clear she'd be running straight to that and probably running her hands all over it in a way that might make people vaguely uncomfortable. But since the singer /is/ here, she restrains herself. "Oh, I know that one," she says. "The gameskeeper used to sing it very pointedly when he had to fish me out of the millpond." She blinks at Ophne. "Oh, I doubt it. Most of my friends don't hang out in ruined throne rooms and sing things. I mean. Unless someone suggests it." Either way, she bounces forward a little and waves towards the shadow. "Hello! Sorry to bother you! I wonder if we might interrupt you for just a few moments? That's a lovely song, and the one before it, too!" Her smile is bright and hopeful.

The person is flipping through a book as they sing. When Perronne steps into the room and just up and says hello they stop and look up at her. They are ... peculiar? A plain face, with features neither quite feminine nor masculine, but with a mane of wild orange hair and a long scar going down through their left eye, leaving it a milky white ruin. Their body is painfully thin and moves in a herky jerky fashion, flipping pages in a way that takes two or three times to get right. The shadows around them are deep, made moreso by the blinding light of noon pouring in to the room between them.

"Ah, a guest," says the individual in a beautiful, but no longer entirely womanly, voice. "It has been so long since the clan sent a guest my way. Be welcome, for now. I am," there's a pause, then, "the clan calls me White-eye. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

Riagnon checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 17 lower.

Perronne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 9 higher.

Ophne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 1 higher. Ophne rolled a critical!

Ophne lingers near the entryway to the receiving room, her gaze shifting over the details of the room before landing intently upon the singer. A look of horror flickers across her features as she recoils, her whisper a hiss directed toward her companions and not intended to reach their most interesting host. "Look at his- her- its hands..." She gestures surreptitiously to her hands, nodding to the person whose own hands appear to be rotting.

Riagnon's peachy complexion pales and he audibly gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down on his throat. He steps in, hands still on his weapon. "Lord Riagnon of House Acheron, at your service. You may not have heard of us, but we've replaced House Aviaron, who have been pretty sufficiently killed off by now."

"You're very peculiar, aren't you?" Is that-? Is that not something he's allowed to point out? Riagnon looks to Perronne for guidance.

Perronne sinks into a proper sort of curtsy by instinct, although her eyes are locked with fascination on the person's striking features. On instinct, she starts to say, "Well met, and thank you for your welcome. I'm Per--woah," she can't help it; the polite introduction goes into a sort of squeak at something she notices. She looks down at the hands, sure, but her eyes return to the person's...chin? No, their neck. Or lack thereof. Even so, Riagnon's question sort of makes her twitch between complete agreement and polite mortification. "Ah, ah, ah. Um. It's a pleasure to meet you!" is what she falls back on.

"Oh, have they? They were still going strong last I heard, but it's been a decade or two. I don't get out much, I'm afraid. I have everything I need here. Lots of books, lots of blank parchment. I'm a philosopher, you see. A scholar. A musician. We were so many things, once." White-eye gives a long sigh, though it raises an eyebrow at Ophne's comment, then Riagnon's. "My, we're very straightforward now, aren't we? I have to decide if I like that or not. Manners are the first thing to go, you know. Though," it adds, with a distinct menace to its voice, "they have not yet gone." Looking between the group it says, "So, a new house at Aviaron's Peak and here you come. What do you know of this place? Did you know that the first count was the son of a hero who protected this defile from a Crusade? Trigve Northblood. He's been reincarnated several times. That's how I knew of this place. Is one of you he? I might have to vacate if the original owner showed, it would only be polite."

Riagnon checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 20 lower.

Perronne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 37 higher.

Ophne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 8 lower.

Perronne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 13 higher.

Ophne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 8 lower.

Riagnon checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 14 lower.

Ophne manages to look suitably abashed, her lips curving wryly. "I didn't mean to offend," she answers slowly, this time actually taking care not to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "My mouth tends to get me into trouble." She falls quiet, listening attentively. "I don't know much about this place really. We came with the intention to learn more."

"Well, I'd prefer it if you found it endearing," Riagnon blinks dumbly. "Yes, they're quite finished. See, I have their heirloom weapon right here." He pats his other war pick that's holstered to his belt. "I'm told it was instrumental is throwing back a crusader or two, itself." ... "It-it's nice to make your acquaintance," he echoes the sentiment already expressed by Perronne, "Philsopher, musician, and scholar. By what name may we refer to you? Not Trigve, that much is clear."

Perronne's eyes just go wider and wider in her expressive features as she looks at White-eye, and the shadows around him. Her head tilts back, gaze searching as high as she can in the tall room, before glancing back down at the person's face. Her voice only wavers a little as she says, "You're a remarkable musician, and I understand that quiet and peace are quite beneficial for the pursuit of scholarship and philosophy. We apologize for disturbing your contemplations. We thought this place abandoned. I'm afraid that, to my knowledge, none of us are the reincarnation of Lord Trigve." Her eyes flick to the piles. "Are you still well-stocked with books? There are many which have been written in the years since, um, since you may have made your way out into the world." Another glance upwards into the darkness above. A bob of her head in agreement with Ophne and Riagnon, and another look up.

"There is much to learn! I've read every journal the clan brought me from the various rooms. Count Finlay sent his brother Thaxton to fight with the Badger Queen. The brother took a wound that nearly took his head from his shoulders, then got back up and killed a dozen sylv'alfar. This distinguished him enough he was at the outskirts of her court when he was murdered. Didn't come back from that. Some say he slept with the wrong lord's lady or the wrong lady's lord. Either way, Count Finlay hung himself out of guilt." There's a brief titter at this. "Then there's Count Caraidland, which is a mouthful," it smiles and its mouth nearly splits its face in two, showing far too many pointed teeth, "who threw in his lot with House Redrain in backing the wrong liege during the wars of broken crowns and broken skulls. His whole family was killed, so the castellan blocked the pass and packed up and moved away." It looks back to its pages. "The castellan wasn't an electrifying writer, but when all you have is time you'll read anything." Perronne's comment gets its attention. "I would certainly enjoy some new books. Whenever I run out I just start writing my own. I sometimes wonder who might end up reading them. There's only so much of an audience for natural philosophy in a godfearing nation." It looks to Riagnon and considers, then says, "The Arvani tongue isn't quite up to the task. White-eye will do."

Ophne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 4 lower.

Perronne checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 15 higher.

Riagnon checked perception + investigation at difficulty 25, rolling 13 lower.

Has she forgotten to introduce herself in the shock of seeing this person up close? The younger Acheron seems to recover her manners as she steps forward and bows her head. "I'm Lady Ophne Acheron, at your service. A pleasure to meet you, White-eye." She seems to be taking a moment to digest all the information White-eye has shared with them. "There must be so much you've learned, studying and reading and philosophizing as you do. Where do you hail from? And what language were you singing in earlier?" Is this helpful to their cause? Ophne has no idea, but maybe she's just settling personal curiosities.

Books? Riagnon bares his teeth, lip curling upward in mild distaste at all the talk of them. While his sister and Perronne seem more captivated by the subject, and by speaking to White-eye, Riagnon decides to step to the side and arbitrarily examine the other things in the room... which he does primarily by reaching out and touching.

"There really is a LOT to learn," Perronne agrees, and although she strives for cheer, there's a hint of awed terror to it that suggests that she's putting White-Eye smack dab into her new learning experiences for the day. She looks up again, like she's following something from White-Eye up to the darkness, then back down to the face. "But, yeah, some of those old logs can get kind of stultifying. The information is useful, but the format could use a little drama and excitement. I mean. Other than all the wars and dying. Sometimes you find love letters, and those can be fun. But...if you wanted people to read your books, I imagine we could take a few back. And then bring newer volumes. There have been more wars! And new ships, some discoveries. A lot of interesting things!"

Riagnon doesn't follow his curiosity more than few steps away before he drifts back to Perronne, and more importantly Ophne's, side. Books are of no interest to him and there are many, many books. But that's not all. "What happened to the previous owners of this equipment?" Riagnon poses the question with a gesture toward a few piles of battered swords and armor, followed up soon after with another gesture toward the piles of bones.

All in all, Ophne is much more of an impatient 'punch them in the face' kind of gal than the 'sit and read peacefully' type. So her attention begins to wander away from the talk of books, particularly when Riagnon moves away to examine the room. Her brow furrows, gaze flicking to the piles that her brother inquires about.

Perronne attempts to discreetly kick Riagnon in his ankle.

"Lady Ophne, so lovely to meet you. I come from a great many places, if I'm being honest, though originally? I'm not sure I remember. It's been quite some time. They loved our singing and our hunger for learning, among other things, but they did not care for it when we started to breed. Who, though?" White-eye looks genuinely stricken for a moment, as if it hasn't had to think about these things in quite some time. "I haven't seen any of my brothers or sisters in so long." When Perronne does that glance up its eyes, a brown so pale it could be called burnished gold by the sorts of people who like to make brown eyes seem more special, then back to her. "It's so rare to meet people with whom one can have a nice conversation. It's always sad when the conversation has to end." Then its body drops to the floor, though its head remains where it is. For a moment. Then it climbs down from the wall, where most of it has been hidden in the shadows. First one paw, easily the size of a dinner plate, then another. Its body is as tall as a horse and its body half and again as long, covered with course orange fur, striped regularly with black. When it drops down on all four paws, its tail follows, long and muscled, ending with a ball covered in spines. Riagnon's question gets its attention and it looks first to the piles, then back to the lord. "I ate them. They were _very_ boring. Don't worry, most of them were locals. You call them shavs? You wouldn't have liked them. One or two are explorers, but that's what an explorer does, yes? Go find far away, lost places. Then die there."

"We prefer to not die," Perronne yelps a little, as the puppeted body drops to the floor. "We prefer to have a lovely conversation about books and philosophy and history, and then go away, very much alive. Maybe we can do that? Or discuss some sort of mutually fulfilling trade that ends with no one dead!" She flashes a nervous sort of smile, that turns to something more awed when the rest of the creature slowly lowers itself to the ground.

Riagnon yelps, too. At Perronne's kick. ..and again, at the creature that reveals itself before them. Unlike his comrade, he doesn't try to negotiate with it, though. Instead, he produces his weapon with a theatrical flourish and bares his teeth, emitting a rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest that is not entirely unlike a low growl.

Riagnon wields Avalanche, the indomitable alaricite warpick.

Ophne gives a startled cry as the creature reveals its true self. "Well, I have brothers and sisters too and I'm not about to let you eat one of them. Or me or Perronne either." Just in case it requires clarification. She scowls darkly at the thing, nocking an arrow and aiming squarely at it with a look that means business.

Ophne wields Hooty Tooty Aim and Shooty, a shiny rubicund longbow.

Riagnon checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 25, rolling 43 higher.

Ophne checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 25, rolling 12 higher.

When Riagnon draws steel, well, alaricite, it gives just the most affronted look that a giant man-tiger could possibly give. "Well!" It sounds like someone just about the flounce away, except instead of flouncing away it twitches its tail and then swings it in a wide arc toward them. It's a lazy gesture, either a potentially deadly warning or else underestimating the Acheron siblings. The swing goes wide before smashing into a big pile of armor and bones, scattering them across the floor. "Bugger. Do you know how hard it is to make a proper pile when you don't have fingers or thumbs?"

Perronne has her staff, but clearly doesn't like her odds. She jumps back at the swing of the tail, her eyes twitching from each of the others. "Couldn't we talk about this?" she asks them all, a little wistfully. "I mean, if we fight, then people die, and that would be a tragedy. There aren't that all that many Riagnons, or Ophnes, Perronnes, or White-Eyes in the world, and it would be a shame to lose one. We might be able to bring ourselves to a temporary accord!" Said while backing away, because while she might be /overly optimistic/, she's not a complete idiot.

Riagnon prances out of the tail's way on the balls of his feet, twirling the pickaxe prettily to counter the shifting of his weight. "You're vile!" He tells White-eye, voice cracking ONLY A LITTLE as he strikes out after that very same tail, "You always intended to eat us!"

Riagnon checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 22 higher.

Ophne checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 1 higher.

Ophne checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 40, rolling 2 higher.

Riagnon checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 40, rolling 29 higher.

Ophne jumps back out of the way of the tail swipe, eyes narrowed at the creature. She remains standing resolutely near her brother's side, tracking the animal's movements with her bow. "Didn't your mother teach you it's not nice to play with your food?" Oh, but wait, that makes it sound like they /are/ the meal. "And don't you realize you shouldn't underestimate us? We're NOT to be EATEN!" And she lets an arrow fly. So much for Perronne's sweet diplomatic attempts.

Riagnon checked strength at difficulty 20, rolling 22 higher.

"I wasn't GOING to eat you! I was having a NICE TIME!" White-eye sounds a little hurt! It rears at Ophne, but she barely ducks around the way, then snaps at Riagnon but where it snaps Riagnon no longer is. Then it takes an arrow to the haunch and while it looks less pained than annoyed at that, when Riagnon brings down that alaricite pick into its tail it sinks deep and White-eye gives the kind of scream that something that hasn't felt pain in a long, long time might give when suddenly experiencing a whole lot of it at once. It shakes itself loose from the pick, but fails to shove Riagnon back. So instead White-eye is the one to move back, rearing up all teeth and fangs and spikes. Then it leaps into the air and enormous leathery wings open up, flapping until it is sitting on the edge of the keep's wall. "That was so RUDE! Fine! You can have this place! I'll go find another. It's FINE!" It's so not fine. The man-tiger looks like it might cry. "Oh, keep this in mind, my lords and ladies. I'm the reason this pass has been kept safe for the last two hundred years. I kept shav warchiefs from moving into this keep! So good luck!" It doesn't punctuate that with JERKS! but it looks like it might.

"Let it go," Perronne says, her eyes wide as White-eye screams with pain, then widening even further as it unveils great leathery wings. "Just let it go, my lord, my lady. It may be entirely unique in the world. Don't kill him." She's not shouting; she actually looks pained under the awe.

"YEAH, we're not FOOD, we're friends," Riagnon growls, prancing and hammering down with his pickaxe's sharp and pointed beak. "But not YOUR friend! Obviously!" As the horrible to behold, if not well-read, monster acknowledges its defeat and maybe starts to tear up, Riagnon rises up onto his tippy-toes with one last insult, "You're gross!" Per Perronne's request, he does not pursue White-eye.

Ophne lowers her bow slightly although it's clear she has it at the ready should White-eye try pulling any tricks. "Well, it's also rude to eat people," she points out, scowling to show her disapproval. She does, however, seem to listen to Perronne's pleas and remains rooted to her place rather than attempting to go after the creature.

"Those people were awful. But you'll find that out soon!" White-eye, mostly recovered, gives a snotty little sniff and then takes off. Before long its just a dot in the distance and then they're gone.

Leaving you all in a very messy room.

Perronne watches the creature go until the dot dwindles and disappears. Then she remembers how to breathe, in a great gasp and sigh. "Gods. What a thing. What an amazing thing." Wide-eyed, she turns to the nobles. "We could have talked our way out of that, you know. Probably."

"Well, sorry!" Ophne yells to the retreating figure of White-eye although her tone is more of the 'sorry not sorry' variety. She shrugs, casting Perronne a pensive look. "Maybe. But when something leads with the fact that it eats people when bored of them, I tend to shoot first, ask questions later." Still, her gaze strays toward the direction of White-eye's disappearance. There may be some lingering curiosity there, after all.

"Talked our way out like they did?" Riagnon asks, gesturing toward the bones before he holsters his pickaxe. "Anyway, we can't be sure that thing won't circle back. It... he... /they/(!) obviously know their way around this place. Not to mention those Shavs. We should.. move."