Cabin in the Woods

       It's been a couple weeks since that terrible night when Kol and the wolves came calling at Dirk's cabin. But fortunately, the damage was relatively minor, considering what might have been. When Verna arrives, she'll see that the fire-damaged roof has been repaired with fresh wooden shingles. The mess within has been neatly tidied up. It's almost as if it had never happened.

       Dirk himself can be found seated in his armchair before a roaring fire to keep off the winter chill. He relaxes with his evening pipe and a mug of cider, idly puffing smoke rings to join the sweet cherry haze lazily wafting overhead. Lulu rests on a nearby perch, preening her feathers. Hearing Verna approach, she perks up and twists her head around. "Hoo-oo!" she hoots.

       Dirk looks over his shoulder, his shaggy white brows furrowing. He rises to his feet and lumbers to the door, reaching over to grab his thunderbelcher. But when he sees who it is that approaches, his apprehension turns into a broad, friendly smile. "Why, Missus Verna!" he booms cheerfully. He sets his weapon back on its rack and steps aside, ushering her in with a low bow. "This is a pleasant surprise, innit? Come on, warm yeself up by the fire! Can I get ye a drink? Have ye eaten?"

Verna arrives via the floating cauldron seen previously, commonly referred to as 'The Conveyance.' She lands a polite distance from the porch to dismount, liftin a gloved hand in greeting. Once invited within, she doffs her hood and offers greetings.

"My apologies that I did not provide advance notice. I did not wish to intrude." A brief glance is made about the cabin. "It is pleasing to see that there was no irreparable damage nor loss, yourself included." She steps to the fire to fend off any lingering chill. "Tea would be welcome, but is not required. How have you fared?"

Dirk tucks his pipe in the side of his mouth, sending up idle little puffs as he bustles into the kitchen. Water gets drawn from the hand-cranked pump, and he fills a kettle to set over the fire. Down from the cupboards, he takes a hearty clay mug and spoons some orange pekoe into a teaball. "Aye, it could've been much worse," he says as he arranges some shortbreads on a plate, along with a pot of raspberry jam. "I thought fer sure I'd come back an' find everything burnt tae ashes an' me poor pony dead an' gone. But I think Kol just wanted tae find the totem. Aside from a few torched shingles an' a hell of a mess, things were pretty much left untouched.

Once the kettle starts to sing, he fills the mug with piping hot water and drops the teaball in to steep. He bustles back into the living room with the tea tray, setting it down on a small side table with a warm smile. "There ye are. Please enjoy!" He settles himself back down in his armchair, taking ahold of his pipe as he picks up his mug of cider. "Aside from losin' about four inches off me beard, I've been farin' well, thanks. I hope you've been well also."

"My thanks," Verna offers as he returns with the tea tray. She begins making a cup, lips pursing as she stirs. "My condolences for your beard, though I am pleased all else is well. I was concerned for yourself and the cabin, as well." Verna sips from her cup. "Kol appears to have little or no interest in the totems. Unfortunately, his interest was, and is, upon an individual. One that was used to our advantage." Yet her near-frown remains.

Dirk nods his head, tipping back a swallow of his cider. "Aye, Dolan. How is 'e, anyway? He was in rough shape last I saw 'im." He chuckles softly. "Suppose compared tae what he went through, gettin' a bit o' me beard singed off is a bit less of an issue." He pauses with his mug partway to his lips. "But only a -bit-."

Verna holds her cup in both hands. "He is mending, and under talented and watchful care. As well, his bold plan, and his pain, were not in vain. Several of us returned to the cave, retrieved two totems, and explored beyond it. It is, indeed, amidst the lycanthrope's camp. Dolan's plan and presumption were proven valid."

Dirk nods his head. "Aye, I thought 'e might be," he says. "Dolan's a good lad, an' he's got a good head on his shoulders. An' two more totems! Och, how many is that, now? We've -got- tae be gettin' close tae a full set by now!"

"I do not know how many we all hold, in total," Verna pauses for a sip of tea, "but, yes, we may now hold a majority. One recovered was the same taken previously from my home, so the net gain was small. There remains the matter of how, where, even when to make use of them once we hold all... " She exhales a long breath, nearly frowning. "Yet that time is not come and we can yet learn what need be done. "

Dirk pulls at his pipe, the bowl glowing hotly in his hand as he nods his head. "Well," he says, puffing a billow of sweet cherry smoke to join the fog lazily swirling around him, "better they be in our hands than Zalgiman an' his lycans." He scowls dourly, swirling the cider in his mug. "I hope I live to see the day I get tae bloody that bastard's nose. I've had about a gutful o' him -and- his flea-bitten friends."

Verna lifts a hand to scratch lightly behind her ear before she nods, frowning anew. "Indeed. I would see them disbanded and their plans halted, at the very least. We cannot allow otherwise, given their presumed intent. So long as we possess even one of the totems, they cannot succeed, but it best to see all ended permanently."

Dirk nods his head. He leans forward in his seat, resting his elbow on the armrest as he regards Verna through a billow of pipe smoke. "Well, ye know ye've got my gun whenever ye might find it needful," he says. "I owe you an' the others a lot. I probably wouldnae be sittin' here now if you, Telamon, an' Cor'lana hadn't come tae our rescue. Fer that, I'll owe ye a debt I can never repay."

Verna holds up a hand to him to stay his statement, though it does not wave it away after. It lowers with a long exhale. "You hold no debt, Dirk. This Kol Demontry is my doing. It is my responsibility. I regret all that he has wrought; to yourself, to Dolan, and too many others. As for the lycanthropes and their machinations..." Verna's words trail off in a moment of quiet musing she fills with a sip of cooling tea. "... I fear that I am bound to those, as well, and worse I do not yet understand the how nor why."

Dirk tips back the last of his cider, a worried frown creasing his features. "I'd heard that he was brought out o' dreams," he says. "But I know it's nothin' ye would've done on purpose, right? It's like ye said, innit? Ye don't understand how or why." He shakes his head, hopping to his feet and lumbering into the kitchen to draw himself a fresh mug. He fetches more shortbreads for Verna as well, snagging a couple for himself as he does. "Lass, I don't much care how -or- why. Nor do I lay any blame on yer door. That dinnae help anything, does it? All that matters is puttin' an end to this nightmare."

Verna eyes the arriving shortbread, and even proactively inquires of a piece with a hand and an inquiring brow over her frown. Perhaps a bit of sweet shall aid her sour thoughts and expression. "He was. More correctly, he emerged from my own nightmares of the past. Not intentionally, yet he is present all the same and the horrors at his hands are no less real."

She pauses, then, for a long breath. "Apologies. I did not visit to dampen your hearth and home with complaints of the past. You are correct: what is important is that he is removed, and The Red Maw's minions are stopped. I would see all of this done, yet cannot do so alone, nor be all places at once. Your aid is ever welcome, as is that of others. There is yet a journey to be taken to The Vast, that is already far overdue."

Dirk has plenty of shortbreads to share, and he's never stingy with his hospitality. He plumps his hefty rump back down in his armchair with a kindly smile. "Ye must not blame yerself, Missus Verna," he says. "This is no fault o' yers. An' we'll stop 'im. Good always wins out over evil. It's in the rules. Ye can look it up." He rumbles a soft chuckle, tipping back a swallow of cider. Mention of a journey has him headtilting curiously. "The Vast? Och, what's out -there-? That's naught but weird magicks gone awry an' gods know what else." He frowns a bit. "An' no trees fer miles. Ergh. Don't like the notion o' leavin' me woods behind. But... if ye say it must be done, then it'll be done."

The quip concerning the rules causes a moment of confusion, which does crack the frown. A moment later comes some understanding, as indicated by the remainder of Verna's expression straightening to neutral. A nod. "There was a vision, through the totems, indicating a place of some significance between Eluna and The Red Maw. Whatever occurred there may be over and done, but information may yet be found there. I was able to narrow the location to somewhere within The Vast. Unfortunately, I could not determine a precise location; visions are rarely so blatant and clear. Any who would make the venture are welcome and teleportation shall be provided. I may be unable to provide more than transportation to and fro, however."

Dirk pulls at his pipe, nodding his head with a soft chuckle. "Well, yer the magic expert, I'll warrant. Other'n a few blessings Dana an' Gilead offer me, I wouldn't know a vision from a hole in me gob," he says. "But if ye can get us in the area, I should be able tae muddle me way about. If there's aught needin' tracked, I can likely still track it. I'll just be off-kilter on account o' the distinct lack o' trees. But I'll make do."

"There is yet far more unknown to me than known, Dirk," Verna notes. "In this, even moreso, which is why I seek aid and information. Many eyes are best, and yours may be far more keen than mine own in this, trees or not. If there are others you know who might join you, all the better. If it is important, there is no reason to believe the vampire, nor possibly even the lycanthropes, shall be present. I hesitate to state there may be naught to find, as the hope is for some remnant or clue of use."

Dirk nods his head. He puffs a couple idle smoke rings, furrowing his brow in thought. "Patch would be a good help, I think. She's a good lass, an' smart tae boot. Aelwyn's a stout fighter, if Dolan's not feelin' up tae an adventure just yet. We might ask Slixvah, she's a clever one as well." He chuckles softly. "We'll get it sorted. That's what we're good at, innit?"