Zephyr confidently lied to the tavern owner, “I know those children. They are angels! They would not have left their rooms.” His smooth and guileless as he met the eyes of the angry, towering man before him. The owner looked away first, admitting that there was no proof of them having anything to do with the thefts. They were strangers in this land and the most untrustworthy in the eyes of these close knit people. It was also probably true that they had stolen the items in question.
After Zephyr assured the owner that the children would not remain unsupervised in the hotel, he walked off with a noticeable lift in his step. Before he was out of earshot he confirmed to the group that he also had a room paid for and reserved for their Dwarven companion if he had need. Brenna looked about ready to drop from the combination of exhaustion and food coma. Lullaby looked about ready to join Brenna. Mythe tried to look cool but a small amount of perspiration on his brow belied his aloof demeanor. They all slowly made their way upstairs, eager to be faced with a soft place to rest for the night. The bard was the only one who was wide awake. He was dreading what he would be faced with when he saw the kids and did not want to deal with that.
Back at the forge, Garn gazed in awe at Dvalin’s work in progress. Over his shoulder, he asked how he got the metal so perfect and straight. He was in utter amazement at the skill at which Dvalin operated. Garn was so impressed that he offered Dvalin the use of the forge at any time as long as he was allowed to watch so he might gain insight into his own work. He reached around his neck, withdrew a key and handed it to Dvalin. After accepting the gift, the Forge Cleric turned back to his work on the dagger he was making. He finished the piece off with a stamp of Moradin on the pommel. Once it was cool enough, he wrapped some supple leather around the hilt beneath the crossguard. He was done and he was so tired. With a few quick movements he pulled out his bedroll and plopped down right there in front of the forge and went to sleep.
Garn left the talented blacksmith to his rest. He began closing down the shop for the night and closing up. Then he plopped down a big mug of ale next to Dvalin’s prone form and retreated to his own quarters. Dvalin wanted to go to sleep but he needed to eat so he had some of his rations and drank the ale before laying down once more, this time, to a deep slumber. There was a familiar comfort in sleeping before a warm forge. The shop was dark and the cold reminded him of the brisk mountain air that would blow around at all times. Slowly he let himself drift into sleep and dreamed of his far off home and the life he had shared with his beloved father. He missed him terribly and feared he would not see him again in this life but in dreams they could be together for a while.
Upstairs, in their rooms, the group began to get ready to go to bed after going to their rooms. While they got ready to go to sleep, Mythe asked Brenna if she had saved him. She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “If you mean, did I see your ship go down and help, yes I did I guess.” Her cheeks reddened a bit with embarrassment. Mythe shook his head and spoke about the battle and the hits that Brenna had blocked for him. Those blocks had saved him from serious wounds more than once that fight. She simply shrugged and said she liked helping. She had seen him go down and had been pulled to help. Her mother had always told her to be helpful and kind to people because you never knew when you might be in need of their help.
Mythe shared that he had never had a mother to teach him those little wisdoms of life that helped a child navigate life. Brenna nodded in sympathy and shared her own lack of a father growing up. She inquired about his father. He hung his head and whispered that he had lost his father at a rather young age. Brenna was heartbroken for her new friend and offered her condolences. She still did have her mother and offered to take them to meet her. She was a really nice woman and a survivor in this harsh land. Her mother would welcome them with open arms and a hot meal to warm them up. Marise was a little rough around the edges but she was a good person.
“You mentioned that you didn’t know exactly what you were earlier. Do you have any idea?”, Mythe asked with curiosity burning in his eyes. Brenna looked off into the distance as she answered. “Well, I look like my mother but I also have these glowing eyes and my hair is bright, golden yellow. My mother’s hair is dark black. I don’t think I’m completely human. I haven’t met anyone else like me anywhere in this area.” No one in the region had blonde hair let alone the shimmering gold that flowed from Brenna’s scalp. Mythe understood what it meant to be different, he was used to it. He took a deep breath and asked if he could share something with her. She nodded and, before her eyes, Mythe transformed into a perfect replica of Brenna herself. The real Brenna’s mouth hung open in amazement and she spluttered to ask how, what, who, all at once.
She had so many questions. Brenna and Mythe began talking back and forth sharing information about what they could do. Did he become the person or merely copy them? Was it real or an illusion? Did it hurt to change into someone else? Mythe demonstrated more changing prowess by turning into Zephyr next. They were caught up in this discovery for a long time.