Selm
Old Man Boros' Keep
As Runner procured a set of lockpicks from inside her dripping armor, she gave the door a maniacal look. With her dark hair plastered across her face and an irritated scowl, she gave the impression of an ill-tempered and possibly deranged ruffian. Selm supposed she kind of was.
"How about we knock on the illuminated window first, hmm? I certainly do not wish to be breaking into a keep of all places, unless it is our last resort," Yule said. The mage looked damp and displeased. Reminiscent of a black cat that found itself in a bath. Both he and Runner looked like that; now she got a better look at them. Yule is a slim and proper cat that was unfortunate enough to be caught in the rain. Runner is a feral stray who was just mad she got wet without her say.
It would be a much more humorous comparison if Selm were not also drenched and miserable.
"But who is going to go back into the rain to knock? Those windows are a bit high," Inathia asked curiously.
They all turned and looked at her. If her height alone was not a good enough reason, the fact that the storm did not seem to phase her as harshly as it did the others was.
"Oh."
Inathia was shooed from the doorway quickly, her tail disappearing around the corner as she went to knock on the glass.
"Hopefully she doesn't break the window."
"Why would you even posit that?"
"She's not stupid," Baz snorted.
"Remember the tent collapse five days ago?"
"Clumsy, not stupid," he said, but after a moment of thought, he turned and hurried after her, into the storm.
Moments later, they reappeared, soggy and wind-battered.
"The light moved! I think they're coming to the door!" Inathia exclaimed proudly.
Selm gave her a weak but grateful smile. "Well done. Let us hope the owner is amenable to us seeking shelter. Old Man Boros, was it?"
"Aye, or so Iva told me."
As Baz said that, Runner shot up. "Wait! I heard something unlock." She turned to the door and began to rattle the handle, to no avail.
"Patience, please!?" Selm said, exasperated at the rogue's lack of tact.
"Ugh, I just want. To. Get. Dry!" The frustrated woman had her entire body against the door and off the ground, using all her body weight to try and pry it open. As she gave a final yank, the door did not budge, and nothing seemed to happen. She dropped down with a frustrated yell.
Then the door opened, just a smidge, as if to chastise Runner for her behavior.
An old face peered through the crack of the entry. It was an old, bespectacled human man, looking concerned at them all.
His voice, quiet, slow, and slightly scratchy, spoke out into the rain. "Hello? Can I help you?"
"Please, sir, can we take shelter in this place? Just until the storm has passed, I swear it.' Selm immediately addressed him, trying to get ahead of Runner, who looked ready to shove her way inside.
The old man blinked, confused at first. He gave another look at them all, considering their states. Selm loathed to admit it, but she seriously considered charming this poor old gentleman just so she could get inside and get dry. Enchanting dodgy rogues who were keeping secrets was a bit more morally justifiable than the elderly. Selm was not above using her magic if it came down to her life, even if it was a questionable choice. She would apologize later, if need be.
As luck would have it, she need not bother. The old man's face lit up as he nodded to them all. "Oh, you poor things, please come inside."
He then shut the door in their faces.
The sounds of chains being unbound on the inside of the door cut through the pounding sounds all around them. The old man was simply unlocking the rest of the door, not shutting them out as Selm had feared initially. After a few more moments, the door opened, this time much wider. The man's hunched form peeked around the door as he beckoned them in.
"There are towels in that cupboard. Feel free to use them. I will… uhm, I will… put more wood onto the fire, yes, that was it. I will light the fire in there so you can dry off better."
They all swiftly entered the keep, Baz putting his shoulder against the door to close it. He put a single bar in place to keep the entryway sealed against the wind, but he could have easily put more. The door had dozens of locking mechanisms, ranging from bolts to crossbars to chains with locks. It was no wonder that it took him so long to open the door.
And yet he opened it so readily to us.
It was certainly strange, no doubt about it, but not something extremely out of the ordinary. Selm had heard of hermits who were paranoid before; she had just not expected to meet one.
As they tore into the aforementioned cupboard, they pulled out nearly every towel and blanket they could to dry themselves off and clean up. The cloth smelled dusty, but was relatively clean. Cleaner than them by leagues, anyway. Yule was in the slow process of magically cleaning himself off through repeated casts of prestidigitation, a spell Selm was jealous of and would likely try to learn, if she was able. Perhaps she could convince Yule to teach her, should he be so willing. It would lighten his proverbial load, as Inathia and Runner had both begun begging him to magic their woes away.
Baz shook his head, already removing his upper clothes and armor. Selm was taken aback at the half-orcs willingness to deprive himself of protection in a space they had only just entered.
"W-what are you doing!?" She stammered, looking away from his sudden penchant for stripping. "We are not even aware of how safe-"
"Safe. A good place to rest."
"How can you possibly even know that?"
Baz looked at Selm as she glanced back at him. Somehow, eye contact with him was difficult now. He tapped the holy symbol adorning his fuzzy chest. "Hrex knows rest. Guided us 'ere. Don't worry, it's safe. I can feel it."
She held his measured gaze, this time holding it as she tried to get a better read on the gruff cleric. He did not talk much, but when he did it was often important. He had healed her a couple time by now and had proved his metal more than once. She was hesitant to say she fully trusted him, but she trusted the Shadow Giver. If Hrex said this was a good space to rest, it was a good space to rest.
"Sorry. Can't fix that tonight," he said, changing the subject. Following his gaze, she saw him looking at the leg she was avoiding putting weight on.
"Oh, I had nearly forgotten. The rain had helped numb it enough that I barely felt it. Mend." She waved off his concern and focused more of her magic on fixing her leg. Putting some weight on it revealed that it was still sore, but not hurting. "What happened to your magic, if you do not mind me prying?"
"Spent most of it. The temple."
"Ah. The wounded. So that is what stalled you."
"Aye."
Selm felt further reassured that her choice to trust in Baz was the right one. She gave him a nod and a smile. That had made her feel a bit better despite still being filthy, disgusting, and dirty. A smidgen of warmth in her chest.
With a tired shake of her head, she continued to try and wipe away the muck that clung to her. Hopefully, before they rested, she could get a bucket to clean her hair, or convince Yule to clean it magically. Muddy hair would likely be the worst way to ruin her sleep.
"Oh, good idea, Baz."
"Ina, keep your shirt on!"
"Aw…"
Gods save her if the company she kept let her sleep either.
~~~
Old Man Boros was an amenable and hospitable host to the utmost degree. He did not have them stick in the entry hall for long, even if he had every right to ask it of them.
Yule had been painstakingly drying them with his magic, but it was a slow process. About halfway through Runner's turn, Boros had invited them to come sit in his living room, the room next to the entry way through a large open doorway. Upon entering it, they had huddled close to the crackling fire, drawing warmth from the flames as they tried to remember how it felt to be dry.
The room itself was decently large, for the size of the keep anyway, and looked comfortable. Two long couches sat facing the fire along with two armchairs on each end. A long, thin table sat to the left of the fireplace, under another window. It was covered in several books of varying shapes and sizes. A tattered red rug, worn down by countless people and time, sat beneath a good portion of the room. With windows on two walls of the room, it was clear to see this was the corner of the keep. A large set of double doors led somewhere further into the keep, perhaps into the tower? Selm was unsure if she had seen correctly in the storm.
As he was the only one fully dry, thanks to his magic, Yule stood back to speak with Boros. Not too far from the flames, he was still chilled after all.
"Thank you again for welcoming us in, we sincerely appreciate it."
"Oh, it is no trouble at all. None. It has been quite some time since I have had guests."
"Oh? How long has it been?"
"Eh… uhm. Strange… I-I can't seem to recall. Perhaps a few… times?"
Selm took a better look at their host, now that they weren't in the gloom of the entry hall. His face was heavily wrinkled, covered in age spots. His wispy hair was as gray as it was ever going to get and thin. It did a poor job of staying in one spot, or he simply did not bother with brushing it all that well, as it was a bit of a mess around his head, but it was not too long lengthwise. He was a short man, perhaps standing at five feet tall, but one could easily infer that age had shrunk him as it had shrunk his hairline. The way his back was hunched and his form was thin made him appear like a shriveled-up scarecrow. He wore a small pair of spectacles made of wire and thick glass. The left lens was cracked slightly. He was bundled up in a thick blue robe, one made more for sleeping than for anything else. It dragged along the ground as he shuffled along, somehow not tripping him as it would any other elderly person. As grandfatherly as he looked(for a human), he looked ancient. Less of a grandfather and more of a great, great, great-grandfather.
No wonder his memory seemed a tad off.
"No matter," Yule swiftly changed the subject, a glance towards the rest of them that only Selm seemed to catch. "I believe it would be rude of us to remain complete strangers whilst we share your fire, dear sir. My name is Yule Pyras Velemure, but please just refer to me as Yule. These are my companions. Companions, introduce yourselves."
Selm raised an eyebrow at the wizard. Was that an attempt at humor? His blank stare at her made her think not. He was just like that.
"Yes. Hello, I am companion number one."
"Companion two 'ere."
"I suppose that makes me three, then."
"I am Inathia. Hello mister!"
"Eshah, Ina you messed up the joke."
A chorus of chuckles and laughter at Inathia's confusion and at Yule's expense bathed the room momentarily. Even their host chuckled after a moment.
"My name is Selm, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am eternally grateful for your hospitality."
"Baz. Thank ye."
"Call me Runner, old guy. Nice place ya got here."
"My name-"
"Runner, do not be rude to our host! It is impolite to comment about age," Selm scolded.
To her surprise, the older gentleman laughed at the comment and settled Selm's interruption.
"No, it is true. I am old. No need to… uhm… to tiptoe around the matter."
"My-"
"Well then, if you are okay with it. I apologize in advance for any offense Runner causes to you."
"Hey, the old guy said he was okay with it! And who asked you to apologize for me? I'll apologize if I do anything wrong."
"M-"
"Will you? I highly doubt it."
"Oh, give it a rest, songbird, will ya?"
"Songbird!?"
"You may ignore their bickering. That is their norm." Selm heard Yule mutter to Boros.
"Ah, I see. They seem to get along well," he whispered back.
Before she could correct the obviously mistaken pair, Inathia stood up abruptly and shouted: "MY NAME IS INATHIA BUT YOU CAN CALL ME INA!!"
Startled, everyone turned to look at the ignored dragonborn as she huffed. Her tail flicked behind her with frustration.
"...we know?"