Turning People Into Frogs

Two dogs are lolling by the fire, each enjoying a much-worked-over thighbone of some kind of ruminant, and have been for several minutes. They perk up as Olav comes barelling cheerfully down the stairs, three at a time, whistling tunelessly.

A slow night at the Fernwood, though it is warm, and cheerful. Contrasting nicely with the cold and dark outside. Settled near the fire, with mug of hot chocolate in hand, is a green-haired Gnome. Using one of the chairs made for the smaller folk, her feet are bare and placed upon the hearth, the woman obviously enjoying the warmth of the fire. A small Owl bounces up and down on her left shoulder, making small hooting sounds and pulling at her ear. She laughs soon enough, and tsks. "Yes yes, you may go and play. Kill mice!" A final whooooo is heard before it takes to the air, disappearing up into the airy rafters.

Olav doesn't actually talk to his dogs, but he does greet them, getting down on the floor to roll around with them as they enthusiastically enact the Dance of Where Have You Been? with him. Eventually they subside and return to their Lolling By The Fire, and Olav joins them in a chair not too far from the gnome. "That's... an owl, right?" he asks, with the air of someone who is vaguely familiar with them but has never seen one.

The Gnomish woman is lost in thought until Olav speaks directly to her, and she turns in her chair to regard him, with a look of 'er what did you just say?' evident on her face. Blinking, she smiles, her eyes looking upwards to search for the wee grey owl. "Yes, he's a common owl, but also my familiar. I'm a witch, and he helps me in discerning the mysteries presented to me by Eluna. He's a good sort of bird, sharp eyes, inquisitive nature, and kills mice like nobody's business."

Olav nods, satisfied. "Thought so. About him being an owl, I mean. Dunno about the familiar stuff. They say my grandma had one -- a familiar, I mean, not an owl -- a rabbit, actually -- but I dunno if that's true. Well, I mean, she had a rabbit, that's true, but I don't think it was a familiar, just, y'know, a rabbit."

"Do you know if your grandmother was a wizard or witch, or some sort of arcane practitioner? The rabbit could be a familiar, or just a pet." Xasany smiles. "I like them, they're soft and fluffy, and tend to like to snuggle up close. The best sort of little animal." She leans over the arm of her chair, offering her hand to the man. "My name is Xasany, but you may call me Xas if you like. Nice to meet you."

"Well, kind of," Olav explains. "I mean, she was Starlight Clan, and everyone always says we're magic and stuff, and I guess maybe we are, but also they make stuff up, y'know? And... well, we're not like the wizards I've met here, with their spellbooks and scrolls and everything. And grandma Iona died before I was born. So, I don't know. How do you tell the difference between a familiar and a pet?" He accepts the hand, engulfing it in his much larger one. "Olav, Feyson of Starlight, of White Bear." He pauses and adds "Um, that's a nomad tribe in the Emereth."

"...Human," he adds after a moment. "Though I guess that's kind of obvious."

Xasany giggles brightly at the massive hand covering hers, and she shakes lightly a few times before pulling her hand away. "Ah, hmm. Well, it could be then that magic is in your blood. You may not be a wizard like you see here, but you might be a sorcerer. Or maybe a bloodrager? Perhaps a witch or cleric, even." The green-haired witch shrugs her shoulders. "And yes, you are very obviously a human male. This is obvious to anyone with eyes." She lets out a laugh and holds her stomach a moment before grinning to the man. "So do your people wander? Are you here with your clan, visiting? Or are you off on your own?"

"Me?" Olav replies incredulously. "A sorceror? That's... I mean..." he doesn't seem sure what to say, so he appreciates the change of topic. "Yes, my people wander, and yes, I'm here on my own. It's kind of a long story, but, well, I'm not exactly welcome there anymore." He shrugs. "Besides, I'll be honest... it's better here."

Xasany cants her head slightly to one side. "Why are you not welcome there any longer?" She holds up a hand then. "I don't mean to pry, so if that cuts a little to close to the wound, I understand if you don't wish to talk about it." The little woman nods her head. "This city is pretty decent, as far as cities go. Have you been here long?"

"No, I don't mind talking about it," Olav says casually. "It's just kind of a long story. Basically it all started with my great-grandfather, Evnoriel... he was an elf, and a ranger, and he stayed with White Bear for a decade or so. And, I mean, he maybe wasn't my great-grandfather, I don't know for sure... they say my grandmother was his daughter, but he wasn't married to her mother, so, you know..." he shrugs. "That's why my family line was called Feyson. It... wasn't exactly a compliment," he explains sheepishly. "Anyway, he taught White Bear magic. I mean, we had priests and druids and the like forever, but... you call it arcane magic, I think?... that was new to us. That's how Clan Starlight got started. And, well... like I said, it's a long story."

The Gnome hmms. "Well, Feyson isn't the worst thing they could call your line of people. You've kind of turned it around on them, really." She pulls at one of her delicately pointed ears and grins. "No worries about that sort of hmm, dislike, in this city, at least. So you've Elven blood in your veins, then? That's neat. And your family seems to breed well."

Olav grins. "We do all right," he acknowledges. "And, yeah, that's one of the cool things about the City! I've met REAL ELVES!" His excitement is hard to mask, and he doesn't even try. "And dwarves! Sorry, I know, we're supposed to call them khazad. It's just -- I mean, we had stories about dw-- about khazad, but I thought they were jsut stories! And... I mean, there are lizard-people and bird-people and I don't even know what to call them and... gosh!"

It's like you looked up 'hayseed' in the dictionary and brought it to life.

Xasany giggles brightly and shakes her head. "Kind of neat to see what the world holds outside your door, isn't it? I am a Gnome, if you did not know. And yes, the city has many different races. There's goblins, hobgoblins and oruch, gnomes and halflings and khazad, and at least three sorts of elvenkind. Lots of variety."

Olav blinks. "Oh! Yes, I've heard of Gnomes, but... I thought you were one of the other small races, the... Lucht, I think they call themselves, right? But, right, no, gnomes! I've heard about gnomes! They say you're all kind of crazy... is that true?" He stops abruptly and says "That's probably a rude question, isn't it."

The green-haired witch blinks at his question, and then giggles noisily, holding her sides. "Oh goodness, no." She waves a hand dismissively, grinning broadly. "Gnomes have a thing... an obsession. Something that drives them to creative works. Myself, I am obsessed with pottery. I know all sorts of things about clays, muds, paints and kilns. I could make a set of dinner plates in my sleep. So, it may seem like we're crazy, but, we're just really obsessed over a thing or two. It's usually not harmful. We're no more crazy than any other race, really."

Olav nods. "That makes sense. Everyone used to say we were crazy back home... the Feysons, I mean. We were just different, though."

Xasany nods her head. "That's just it. We're different. So what do you do, then, Olav? You seem like you might be..." She eyes the two dogs and then the man again. "I guess a hunter, perhaps? A woodsman?"

"I guess you could say that," Olav agrees, uncertainly. "I mean, I hunt for meat and stuff, sometimes. And I can handle myself in the woods and stuff... I've been camping out in the woods most nights, when I'm not, you know, with someone," and you're left with the definite impression that there are other things he likes about the city than the ones he's mentioned, "but I haven't really figured out what I _do_... like, you mean for money and stuff, right? People tell me I should go to the Explorer's Guild, but I haven't really found any work there yet." He pauses. "What do you do?"

Xasany listens curiously, sipping at her hot chocolate. "I've had to camp out in the woods a few times. I'm okay at surviving out there, but I prefer to be indoors, with a warm bed." She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, are you with someone, then? COmfortable, I hope. As for what I do, I am a witch, but also a potter. So I make potions and do a bit of fortune telling for people, and I sell some of my pottery in the market. I do take jobs from the Adventurer's Guide, too."

"Not right now, no," Olav replies to her question. "Just, you know, sometimes. And yeah, beds! Beds are AWESOME! I mean, they took some getting used to at first, but as soon as I can afford one of my own I am totally getting a bed, and a room to put it in, and a fire, and... you know, just, everything." He nods at her explanation, which is actually one of the most normal-to-him things he's heard since arriving in Alexandria. "What kinds of potions?"

Morgan has arrived.

Xasany and Olav sit by the fire, in a relatively quiet Fernwood. "Ah, I see. Er, do you have friends here in the city? Or do you mean uh, well, you know?" She shrugs, and then giggles. "Yes, they are wonderful things, compared to sleeping out on the ground." She pauses at his question. "Oh, I don't know yet. I'm still working out the alchemy of them. But I hope to make healing potions, and stuff to make you invisible and things like that. Spells in a bottle, basically."

Olav blinks. "Invisible? Really?" He seems totally impressed by that. "I guess that would be really useful for, like, spying and sneaking around and stuff?"

Morgan comes in from the out side with a book almost as big as her upper half but she is not stugling with it. "Invisiblty is a easy spell, its one that I always remember."

Xasany nods to the man, "Indeed, invisible. And while it might be useful sneaking around, sometimes people have spells set up to see invisible things. So you would have to be careful." She waves to Morgan and chuckles. "That's a large book you have there, Morgan."

"Anyway, sure, I have friends. Like -- like Morgan here!" He waves to the wizard. "and that's awesome," he repeats. "Our shaman back home had a spell kind of like that, but she said it wasn't really. Like, in a fight the enemy couldn't see her, but we could still see her."

Morgan places the book on a table "Some one paid me in advance for it." She joins them at the fire "Sounds like a camo type spell, it just makes you harder to see."

The dogs lolling by the fire perk up at Morgan's arrival and approach her curiously.

Xasany nods, "That's a handy spell for combat." She looks to Morgan and chuckles. "You made that? Or someone paid you in books?" She looks back to the man. "Did you get into many fights then? Back home?"

Morgan joins the dogs to offer them some jerky "I made that for some one. And when I am in a fight with other people I tend to cast haste."

Olav nods to the gnome. "Oh sure, all the time. I mean, not as much as before I was born... the chief and the shaman back then, they were attacking other tribes all the time, and enslaving their warriors and stuff. That... got messy. It turned out that Kensley was a priest of Thul." He shuddered. "But like I said, that was before I was born. But we'd get attacked by undead and monsters and stuff all the time."

Xasany hmms and sits up a little. "That sounds like it could have been exciting. Though, that happens here sometimes. And yeaaah, Thul tends to work like that. So then, are you doing alright for yourself?", she wonders of Olav. "You say that the Guild hasn't put you to work much, right? Are you doing alright for coin?" The Gnome looks to Morgan then. "You made the book? What is in it, then?"

Morgan understands the plight that the tall human had to deal with but she answers Xasany as she is cuddling the big goofy puppys "Nothing it is though spell book grade."

Xasany nods. "You're going to use it, or that is what your uh client wanted?" She stands then, and pads quietly over on bare feet, stooping to pet one of the hounds. "They are such cuddlebugs, aren't they?"

Morgan chuckles as she is using one as a pillow "that they are, and I made that book for a Wizard. He wanted a big book to have a copy of all this low level spells, so he can have better orgnised travel spellbooks

Xasany cants her head slightly to one side, mimicing one of the dogs, and pets the beast enthusiastically. "Travel spellbook? What's wrong with taking your usual book?"

Morgan says as her scratches makes the one dogs leg twitch and then thump "when you get up in power you tend to get more spells that a normal book can hold. So some mages have two books. One for the common spells they have and some that might be usefull."

Olav's response to Xasany's question about coin was to pull on each of his forefingers with the other hand, a nervous habit, and to stare at his feet. Then he announced he needed to use the restroom. When he came back, the topic of conversation had changed, much to his relief, and he'd settled in to listen to Morgan explain about spellbooks.

Xasany hmms and shrugs to Morgan. "I have all of mine up here?" The Gnome taps her temple. "So I don't need to worry about a spellbook being ruined by bad weather or accidentally spilled tea." She ruffles the dog's ears a bit, and turns when Olav settles back down on the chair. "Feeling better?", she wonders, as she moves back to her chair and settles down on it.

"ABsolutely," Olav agrees. "You can add plumbing to my list of Why I like Cities."

Morgan nods "its a disavantage, but I have more spells then you do in that pretty head of yours." she looks to Olav and says "and the wonders of plumbing is less sickness."

Xasany laughs at Olav's response. "Yeah, pump the shit right outta your house.", she says with a grin. Replacing her feet before the fire, she lets out a little sigh. "I think fire in a proper fireplace is highest of my list of why I like cities. At least, proper housing anyways." She looks to Morgan and chuckles. "If it means I don't have to lug around a ball and chain, I'll take that trade.", the Gnome says, gesturing to the large book. "I mean, that thing is ridiculously huge."

Olav nods agreement. "It'd be too big for me to carry around, even! I don't know how you manage it."

Morgan nods "but thats why it will be at his home."

Xasany snorts and looks to Olav, "Ah, I bet you could carry it with no problems. You look strong enough." To Morgan, she shrugs. "But .. if that is a travel spellbook, why would he leave it at home? You wizards are confusing sometimes."

"Oh, I'm plenty strong enough," Olav agrees... and while he might be bragging a bit, it's clearly true. "But think of all the space it takes up!"

One of his dogs, the greyer of the two, pops up onto his lap with two paws and looks at him intently. He looks back. "Hungry?" The dog gives no sign of understanding the question.

Morgan sighs "I said that will be the one he will leave at home and he will have a couple normal sized ones for da to day use." she looks to one of the servers "Get these two big pillows some lamb with out the stew please I will buy."

Xasany grins at Morgan, and looks to Olav, then the barkeep. "And I'll buy ale for him."

Olav looks back and forth between the two, takes a deep breath, nods agreement with difficulty. "Thank you both."

Morgan says as she enjoys the few moments she has something to cuddle with before the food comes "We have to help each other here Olav."

Xasany smiles brightly, "Actually, add some stew and bread to that ale, yes?" The barkeep nods, and the Gnome gives a thumbs-up. "Morgan is right.", the Gnome says to Olav. "Everything out there, in the wilds, wants to kill you or eat you. Sometimes in the wrong order, even. So yeah, we have to stick together."

"Wait, which is the _right_ order?" Olav asks, puzzled.

Morgan says "we will let them have a bit of srew also."

Xasany raises both eyebrows at Olav. "Would you rather be alive while something is eating you?", she quips, before giggling. "The right order is obvious. As obvious as you being human."

Olav grins. "Well, of course I would! I mean, I'd even more rather be alive while I'm eating something, of course, but I'd rather either than being dead while something is eating me."

Morgan says "I had a lot to eat at the Arcanist guild before I came here so eat up." she then looks up as some a very stero typical mage entered "the book is on the table." said as he nods and lets the book lift up by its self and follows him as he leaves.

Xasany eyes the wizard, and then looks to Morgan when he leaves. "I hope he paid you the same way." To Olav, she chuckles. "Yeah, having something gnaw on you is not a fun experience, let me say. For most cases."

"Well, it depends," Olav replies wiht a smirk. "But yeah, definitely something to negotiate. Took me months to teach Grey that."

Morgan nods "he paid in full and in advanced, of I would of cursed him while he left

Xasany blinks at Olav a few times. "W.. what?" She looks back to the fire, and sips at her hot chocolate. Though at this point, it's probably almost cold." The Gnome looks over at Morgan and nods. "What would you have cursed him with?"

Morgan shrugs "Maybe something like he would never sleep untill he paid me or he will always have a hard on. you might think thats not a curse, but mind you when you wear robes a lot every one knows."

"Grey," Olav repeats, indicating the greyer of the two almost-identical dogs. "When they were a puppy they chewed on EVERYTHING. Training them out of that took forever."

"Oh. Right, right. I knew that!", the Gnome says to Olav. "Puppies are such chewers, aren't they?" She giggles lightly and then nods to Morgan. "Me, I'd change him into a frog. Then let the geese have him for dinner."

Morgan gives a yawn and stands as she give Xasany the money to pay for the dogs food "I have to benice to that twit or the guild will be mad at me." she does add before she leaves "I better get home its been a long few days for me."

Olav waves to Morgan, and stares at Xasany. "You can do that? Turn people into frogs, I mean?"

Xasany waves to Morgan as the wizard departs, and looks to Olav with a smirk. "Did you want to find out, in all honesty?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking of volunteering, if that's what you mean" Olav responds hastily, "I was just curious."

Xasany giggles and settles back in her chair. "Witches have to have a few secrets, you know?" She looks to the man, as the barkeep brings by stew and ale, and then has to deal with giving the dogs their treat from Morgan.

"Do they? I mean, you?" Olav shrugs, grinning. "Well, all right then. I'll get used to not knowing. Any other mysteries you have to keep secret?"

Zant has arrived.

Zant goes Out <O>.

Zant has left.

Xasany hmms and looks to him again. "Nothing comes to mind right now, but when I remember, I'll be sure to let you know that I've remembered something I am not supposed to tell you." She giggles and lets out a breath. "Are you staying here, then?"

Olav shakes his head. "Not usually, no... I can't afford it. Like I said, I usually camp outside. How about you?"

Xasany nods slowly. "I am staying here, currently, until I find a place of my own. Did you want to stay somewhere warm tonight? Your dogs can come with you, of course."

Olav blinks. "That would be very nice," he admits. "We are accustomed to much colder weather than this, of course... but I'll admit, I am getting accustomed to warmth.

Xasany grins and nods. "Well, if you are sleeping rough over the winter, you'll get used to it again. I've done that, a little, on my journey to this city from home." She gestures to the inn. "But I much prefer this. And I don't blame you for getting accustomed to it. Makes all the hard work you do worth it, right?"

Olav grins back. "Exactly! Not that I've really been working all that hard since arriving here. Everything was MUCH harder back home."

"Speaking of home... where is that for you?" he asks curiously.

Xasany grins brightly at the question, and stands, moving to lean against his chair. "Sadly, I cannot tell you. Only that I come from a little hidden Gnome town across the Vast. Our villages are hidden, mostly, except for the trade villages. Sort of like the one here in Alexandria."

Olav tilts his head to one side, with the air of someone listening to a quiet voice. "Happy Valley, right? Huh. I hadn't realized Gnome villages were hidden... are you worried about being attacked?"

Xasany holds up her hands. "Look at me. We're a tiny race. But we can smith, and create magical works, and well... people often want to take those from us. So over time we learned how to hide. Only our trade towns were vulnerable. But those are just things. We can hide. We can make more." She eyes him curiously. "How did you know it was named Happy Valley?"

Olav nods as she explains. "That makes sense." He seems about to say something else when she asks her question, and he replies "Well, I just --" and then stops, tilts his head puzzled. "I mean, I must have... heard someone mention it?" he says uncertainly.

Xasany reaches up to lightly pat his cheek. "That must be it then. I seem to have put you on the spot with that question though." She smiles brightly. "What else have you discovered during your time here in the city?"

"No, it's not that, it's just... I mean..." He seems genuinely confused, then shrugs it off. "Oh, I mean, all kinds of things! There's a cart on the corner of Market and Hawthorne Streets that serves this INCREDIBLE spicy bean stew, it's an Arvek Nar thing I guess, he doesn't make much of it and it's gone by noon but it's amazing and he practically gives it away. There's a museum kind of thing attached to the Temple of Navos that has all kinds of exhibits from the history of Alexandria -- this place has been invaded like a million times! And..." he rattles on in this vein, periodically stopping for breath, and seems content to do so endlessly unless interrupted. His recitation is a complete hodgepodge of perfectly common facts and obscure things only a tour guide would know and he doesn't seem to know the difference.

Xasany taps her chin and nods while he speaks, grinning near the end. "That is quite a bit of information, and a rather eclectic focus. What do you know of Gnomes?"

"Not much, really. What you said, before, about obsessions. And that there's a gnome settlement in Happy Valley. And..."

GAME: Olav rolls 1d20+5: (16)+5: 21

...Olav then proceeds to rattle off a collection of bizarrely inconsequential facts about the local gnome community. Where to get Gnomish _alteeth_. How many children the owners of Gnome On the Range bar and grill in Happy Valley have. That sort of thing.

Xasany can only stare at Olav when he rattles of such a strange collection of facts. "My goodness. That is horrifying. Sure, much of that is factually correct... but... wow." She chuckles. "You're quite a font of knowledge for someone who's not from around here."

Olav nods happily... then looks bewildered again. "I really am, aren't I? That's weird. I... don't know how I know that stuff." He shrugs helplessly. "Maybe I just made it up?"

Xasany shakes her head. "No, I know that of the stuff I know about, you've spoken the truth. Some of it fits the rumours and such. And others, well, we would have no real way of proving. So I would say that what you know is correct. So... don't worry about that." The Gnome pulls herself into his lap, sitting sideways on his knees. "So maybe there is some power in your blood after all, hmm?"

Olav blinks as she climbs into his lap, surprised but not objecting. "OK," he agrees willingly. Truthfully he was pretty sure it was true, even if he didn't know how he knew. "I guess?" he replies hesitantly. Then, with the air of someone sharing a shameful secret: "Ghosts help me fight sometimes."

Xasany blinks at that revelation. "Ghosts? As in, dead people's spirits? How do they help you? Give advice or like, guide your sword or... scare people to death?"

"Well, I'm not sure if they're dead people's spirits or not," Olav explains, clearly embarassed. "But... I mean, when I get into a fight, they kind of come out of nowhere and sort of punch whoever I'm fighting."

Xasany oohs and nods. "I see. Well, that is neat, I've not heard of such a thing before. Is it common among your people? Are they uhm your ancestors or something? Spirits of your tribe's heroes?"

Olav shakes his head. "I've never heard of anything like it before," he admits. "I tried to keep it from happening, but... well, you know, when you really get INTO a fight, right, it's hard to hold anything back, and... POW. There they are. And then they're gone again."

Xasany swings her feet back and forth a bit, and nods. "Still, it sounds like a good advantage, so I wouldn't hold back at all. Let it happen, yes? Let them help."

Olav nods. "That's what I said! But Fritjof _really_ didn't like it. Or this," he adds, pointing to the tattoo on his right arm... which at the moment, portrays an impressionist view of a busy market.

Xasany peers at the tattoo curiously, and blinks a few times. "That is... the market here.", she says, looking surprised. "Hmm, this is sort of like Ga'Elian's tattoo. It's not of the city, but it moves like yours does. Sort of." She fusses a little with her hair. "How did you get it?"

GAME: Olav rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22

Olav shrugs. "It was just there one day. A few months ago. Like the spirits. And someone else has a tattoo that moves? Cool. Ga'Elian -- he's an adventurer here, right? With the flying mount? I heard he killed an Ettin with a single attack when he was younger," he says admiringly.

Xasany nods. "If you ask him, he'll tell you the story. And his tattoo showed up mysteriously one day too. Perhaps there is a link? He says his is a mark of his god, though. So perhaps in a way, there is some similarities." She pulls her feet up to sit cross-legged. "See, again, you've got encyclopedic knowledge."

"Well, but I've heard about Ga'Elian before. There's even a plush doll of him, I saw some children playing with it." He doesn't sound like he's convinced by his own objection, though. "The mark of a God, huh? What God?"

"Erm. Gilead, I think? Part of the Green Word. In his tattoo, Gilead is the White Stag."

GAME: Olav rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10

"Gilead," Olav echoes uncertainly. "The Green Word, the White Stag." He shrugs, clearly having no idea what she's talking about. "OK."

Xasany cants her head to one side. "The Green Word? The Great Rider? The Beast King? The Hunter? Lord of Rangers? What about the Fisher King? Surely you have heard of the god before? His constellation is the Great Bowman."

Olav blinks repeatedly. "I guess? Maybe? I never really paid much attention to the god stuff. It was such a MESS back home, the followers of Angoron and Kor were pretty much at each other's throats all the time, and even when they weren't, it was always underneath everything. I guess I just, I don't know, tuned it out."

Xasany chuckles. "Kor and Angoron do the same thing here. It's mostly bluster, I am sure. They flex their muscles and yell loudly that they are strongest. And the people down at the colosseum scream pretty much the same."

Olav nods, laughing heartily. "They do!" he agrees. "They're fun, though. I wrestle with them, sometimes." He begins kneading her thigh, gently. "At least here they don't run things, though."

The Gnome blushes lightly and nods. "Yes, the city has wisely decided not to have the temples and such rule over us. It'd be chaos, I think. So many little things would make it hard to rule the city effectively."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Back in White Bear the tribe Shaman had a lot of influence, especially if the Chief followed the same God, but even if not... I mean, when Fritjof kicked me out of the Emereth, it was Korin, our Shaman, who let me take Theseus." He taps the greataxe strapped to his back to indicate what he's talking about. "Which Fritjof nearly exploded over! You shoulda seen him!" Olav laughs heartily, remembering. "So anyway, it was kind of balanced, is what I mean. But here... I dunno. You're right, I don't think it would work."

Xasany says, "So Fritjof was your tribe's leader?" The Gnome moves a smidge closer. "And Korin was the shaman. Were they at odds then? Didn't like each other?"

"Yeah, Fritjof took over when the curse killed Godrin," Olav says quickly, then seems to regret having said it. "And, no... or, well, kind of. So, Fritjof was Bearclaw," Olav explains, then, "sorry, that's... so, we had two clans back in White Bear, Bearclaw and Starlight. Starlight was started by my great-grandfather, the ranger I told you about... or, well, kind of. Basically some of us were OK with magic and some of us weren't but we weren't ready to split over it, so... two clans. Working together, more-or-less. Not really getting along though. Back when Godrin was chief, he and Korin were both Starlight, and they worked together pretty well, but when Fritjof took over... Like you said, they were kind of at odds."

"So the two clans worked closely together under one name. I am glad that the shaman let you have the axe. I am guessing it was a long journey from there to here, yes?"

"It was, yeah... a few weeks. I hooked up with a caravan that was short a guard... they let me have his gear as payment. None of it is as good as Theseus."