“Half– ,” shrilly beeped Helen, nearly tumbling off her driving bench. She looked as though she was about to rebutt everything Willow had said, but Jurik yanked on her shoulder. Much like Bjorn, he spoke in a quiet voice that was hard to make out. When he finished, Helen rubbed her hands together and spoke in shaken, unconvinced words, “-- is quite fair, given the circumstances. I’m sure we will be able to rely on you for very much.”
She swatted Jurik away and began rifling through a small pack, trying to weigh out some silver coins. Helen counted them once, twice, and then three times, before whimpering, “Nine for the whole job. Four. And eight ounces.”
The money wasn’t released freely. Helen’s grip over the tabs was like iron, and Bjorn had to prompt her for each ounce, knowing his Allomancer was not familiar with the currency. Once payment had been collected, Helen bitterly snapped the reins and pushed the porcinepine on, and the wagon chewed up the road. As they began to see more traffic again, more of the odinkine shifted into the forms of spriggans again. Helen just muttered as they went, shifting between curses and rapid math on how to compensate for a potential loss.
Eternal autumn wrapped the Floating Hills, with stout oaks of orange leaves swaying, fluttering, and falling. The fauna in this part of the Elementalia was closer to what Willow would have expected. Birds, small mammals resembling squirrels and the occasional wisp drawing the eye surrounded them. It was much unlike her first night in the Hills, with much more nature living and breathing around them.
It was as they crossed their fourth bridge over the churning ocean of mana that Jurik landed on Willow’s shoulder opposite of Bjorn.
“You,” said Jurik over Willow’s head, to Bjorn, “Your tunic. That’s Chara’s spinning. You’re from the Land of Giants?”
“Yes,” grimly answered Bjorn, “You know Chara? She is my mother’s sister.”
“I am the son of that sister,” pressed Jurik, his square stage-line delivery shifted by new energy, ”we are cousins. How is mother?”
“Lonely. Dagmar is married to Snorri. Elsha to Roald. Her home is empty, but she still spins for the town and the master of masks.”
“You aren’t mercenaries, but agents of Creative?” asked Jurik, finally roping in Willow to the exchange, “I did not know what to think, a brother of Jotungard wearing a helmet and sword marked by Sigurd’s house; and a stranger with the size and shape of an artisan with none of the glow. What is it you seek in the Yormundyaws? And what is your friend? She is unearthly. Too tall to be of the kin, too beautiful to be a giant.”
[The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Last edited by Kokuten on Wed Oct 15, 2025 6:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
"Freelancer," Willow corrected once she'd been brought up, not wanting to interrupt the meeting of cousins. "I don't work for any of the artisans, nor even the... Sage. If you wish to name what I am, outlander is most accurate, and freelancer works just as well. Regardless, thank you for the compliment."
Willow had settled into a comfortable pace alongside the cart as her speech lost its aggressive twang; softening once more into her Londoner lilt. Idly she inspected the money she'd been paid, not so much as checking to make sure it was all there, but more simply taking in the new information. The appearance, the weight, the hardness, and other such details. Since becoming, or rather discovering, that she was an allomancer metallurgy had been a growing hobby of hers; and silver was one metal she'd not had a chance to inspect.
"As for what we seek, well, I'm off to try and talk some sense into another Artisan. Maybe try to bum some snacks off of him while I'm at it. Just another typical..."
Suddenly, Willow realized she didn't know what day it was. When she'd left it had been... Saturday morning? Then she'd been out from what would have been Sunday to whatever day it now was some two weeks later.
"Actually... what day is it today?"
Willow had settled into a comfortable pace alongside the cart as her speech lost its aggressive twang; softening once more into her Londoner lilt. Idly she inspected the money she'd been paid, not so much as checking to make sure it was all there, but more simply taking in the new information. The appearance, the weight, the hardness, and other such details. Since becoming, or rather discovering, that she was an allomancer metallurgy had been a growing hobby of hers; and silver was one metal she'd not had a chance to inspect.
"As for what we seek, well, I'm off to try and talk some sense into another Artisan. Maybe try to bum some snacks off of him while I'm at it. Just another typical..."
Suddenly, Willow realized she didn't know what day it was. When she'd left it had been... Saturday morning? Then she'd been out from what would have been Sunday to whatever day it now was some two weeks later.
"Actually... what day is it today?"
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
The tabs of silver were weighty, compared to the thin coins. Much like anything imposing order upon the world, there were accents pressed into the currency reminiscent of Noble. The tabs venerated the tower at the center of Navipolis, which Willow had been to many times, with accents of feathers. Unlike the larger tabs, the coins had a unique person of the smallkin on each face. On the opposite side were represented a canaidaer, also unique. An unknown script pressed on the border projected meaning into the Allomancer’s mind.
“THIS I PROTECT, WHOM I AM DESTINED TO GUARD ETERNAL.”
Flipping the tab over, Willow would find each tab pressed with either a mountain, a valley, a forest, or a fjord. Like the coins, more text was laid at the border, and similarly projected a message.
”THE WORLD LOVINGLY MADE, WHICH I AM DESTINED TO GUARD ETERNAL.”
“It’s 262,” remarked Helen bitterly, from her bench. Willow could tell that the golem wanted to say more, but she avoided any acerbic remarks, “Only a 103 lightings until the Divide. Feels like it comes sooner each year. At least we’ll have a break from the wraiths.”
“Outlander,” repeated Jurik, talking over Helen, much to her annoyance, “there is no outland. Only the lands made by the artisans. At least, there is no outland I have ever seen.”
“Even the edges of the world have a horizon,” muttered Bjorn in bitter poetry.
“Such hate for beauty,” cut Jurik, with an intonation of disgust, “I know you now. You are Bjorn, fatherless son, child of Tove; Tove, sister of Chara and Solveig, and renowned as the most beautiful voice of our kine. She would be ashamed.”
“She is dead, cousin,” answered Bjorn in a withering tone, “her beautiful voice could not save her from the wraiths.”
This struck Jurik in a way that caused him to loose from Willow’s shoulder, rejoining the rest of the shifting odinkine in hurt silence. Bjorn, for his part, watched his cousin depart in cold silence. His eyes drifted to Willow’s, before looking away.
“Where are you from, then?” asked Helen, cutting in before silence could take root, “You claim to put artisans in check, are you made from the same forge as them? Are you a child of the Elementalia? Did the Maker seed you at the edge of the world? Is that why you don’t know anything, edgewalker?”
“THIS I PROTECT, WHOM I AM DESTINED TO GUARD ETERNAL.”
Flipping the tab over, Willow would find each tab pressed with either a mountain, a valley, a forest, or a fjord. Like the coins, more text was laid at the border, and similarly projected a message.
”THE WORLD LOVINGLY MADE, WHICH I AM DESTINED TO GUARD ETERNAL.”
“It’s 262,” remarked Helen bitterly, from her bench. Willow could tell that the golem wanted to say more, but she avoided any acerbic remarks, “Only a 103 lightings until the Divide. Feels like it comes sooner each year. At least we’ll have a break from the wraiths.”
“Outlander,” repeated Jurik, talking over Helen, much to her annoyance, “there is no outland. Only the lands made by the artisans. At least, there is no outland I have ever seen.”
“Even the edges of the world have a horizon,” muttered Bjorn in bitter poetry.
“Such hate for beauty,” cut Jurik, with an intonation of disgust, “I know you now. You are Bjorn, fatherless son, child of Tove; Tove, sister of Chara and Solveig, and renowned as the most beautiful voice of our kine. She would be ashamed.”
“She is dead, cousin,” answered Bjorn in a withering tone, “her beautiful voice could not save her from the wraiths.”
This struck Jurik in a way that caused him to loose from Willow’s shoulder, rejoining the rest of the shifting odinkine in hurt silence. Bjorn, for his part, watched his cousin depart in cold silence. His eyes drifted to Willow’s, before looking away.
“Where are you from, then?” asked Helen, cutting in before silence could take root, “You claim to put artisans in check, are you made from the same forge as them? Are you a child of the Elementalia? Did the Maker seed you at the edge of the world? Is that why you don’t know anything, edgewalker?”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
"Oooh, Edgewalker~~~" Willow cooed, eyes going a little starry. "Different enough from Blade Runner to be novel. Edgedancer? Nah, that one's no good."
The cowBrit shook her head; stopping the tangent as she pocketed the last of the silver. If anything, she'd been more interested in asking about why this world's calendar system was just numerically counting to three-hundred and sixty-five. Was there an smaller unit to help keep track? She made a mental note to ask Bjorn about the Divide as well. Although, Bjorn's conversation seemed to be getting a tad grim.
"As for my origin; let's get a little philosophical and blow some minds," her tone was whimsical as she strode carefree beside the cart. "So... the Maker made the world. Yes, factual. We can look around and see the world, and the Maker practically keeps his front door unlocked so anyone can wander into his chamber and start heckling him. BUT! Where did the Maker come from?"
Willow let the question float briefly, but not long enough to let any of the listeners answer.
"The Maker and I are from the same world. A realm beyond this one. Past all of your horizons. Across all edges."
Oh yeah, that felt cool to say, well done Willow. Willow smiled a wry smile.
The cowBrit shook her head; stopping the tangent as she pocketed the last of the silver. If anything, she'd been more interested in asking about why this world's calendar system was just numerically counting to three-hundred and sixty-five. Was there an smaller unit to help keep track? She made a mental note to ask Bjorn about the Divide as well. Although, Bjorn's conversation seemed to be getting a tad grim.
"As for my origin; let's get a little philosophical and blow some minds," her tone was whimsical as she strode carefree beside the cart. "So... the Maker made the world. Yes, factual. We can look around and see the world, and the Maker practically keeps his front door unlocked so anyone can wander into his chamber and start heckling him. BUT! Where did the Maker come from?"
Willow let the question float briefly, but not long enough to let any of the listeners answer.
"The Maker and I are from the same world. A realm beyond this one. Past all of your horizons. Across all edges."
Oh yeah, that felt cool to say, well done Willow. Willow smiled a wry smile.
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
“You? You come from the world of the Maker?” Helen answered with an ounce of belief that seemed to gather almost everyone's attention onto her. The golem stopped the cart, much to the chagrin of the porcinepine. Partly, her interest had been piqued, partly a line of freight was forming in the distance. They would need to join it soon to enter the Yormundyaws, which loomed like walls of stone in the distance.
But first, Helen needed to know something. She stood and planted her fists on her hips, and her domed head opened, revealing the more human-looking face beneath.
“If so, prove it,” the golem demanded, before pointing at Willow, “The Maker is the night and day. The Maker is also Unmaker. If you two are from the same place, it must be easy to make as he does. Make. Make something right now.”
Helen looked off at the treeline and saw a singing bird working on the courtship of another. “Make me understand the birds. The Maker blesses every smallkin child so they can understand all of our languages. It should be easy for you.”
But first, Helen needed to know something. She stood and planted her fists on her hips, and her domed head opened, revealing the more human-looking face beneath.
“If so, prove it,” the golem demanded, before pointing at Willow, “The Maker is the night and day. The Maker is also Unmaker. If you two are from the same place, it must be easy to make as he does. Make. Make something right now.”
Helen looked off at the treeline and saw a singing bird working on the courtship of another. “Make me understand the birds. The Maker blesses every smallkin child so they can understand all of our languages. It should be easy for you.”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
"You assume that since we are from the same place we can do the same things," Willow raised a finger as though she were teaching a lesson. "Following this, should I assume you can fly like an odinkine? Perhaps assume that canidaer can shift their faces like you do? After all, you are from the same world."
Her finger wagged.
"Nope. I am unable to create or refine things like him, but by the same margin I am capable of things that he is not. As Bjorn here stated, I am Metal-Eater. I can consume metals to gain abilities. Super strength, levitation, the ability to sense magic, and even glimpse the future. To name some of my abilities."
Her finger wagged.
"Nope. I am unable to create or refine things like him, but by the same margin I am capable of things that he is not. As Bjorn here stated, I am Metal-Eater. I can consume metals to gain abilities. Super strength, levitation, the ability to sense magic, and even glimpse the future. To name some of my abilities."
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
“Hmph,” Helen beeped, addressing Willow with a sense of confidence not shared among the odinkine. Bjorn’s kind were not sure what to make of Willow, but this was not unusual for them. Even Bjorn wasn’t sure of Willow sometimes, “Metal-eating. Lifting, seeing, floating. I’ll accept you’re different, but you’re not the same.”
“Hey! Keep going, you have carts behind you!” a canidaer barked aside the porcinpine. He waved a long haft that looked like a spear, but seemed to be designed for directing traffic.
Helen, dissatisfied, plopped down on her bench and snapped the reins.
“There’s a three-eyed creature in Navipolis who claims she shares a world with the Maker, too,” the golem buzzed, looking stiff as they got to the checkpoint. “But I’ve only ever seen her getting her hair pulled by children. If you have super-strength, why not carry the cart over the last bridge and claim we’re just personal baggage? Then, legally, we’d have to be inspected as one container, or not at all if you flash whatever got you past the guards in the city.”
“Have your papers ready!” yipped the returning canidaer to the growing queue, before being joined by three others. Other wheeled crates were being pulled aside to be looked at, and the group found themselves to the front sooner than inspected.
The bridge here to the next island was much the same as any other, but a small camp had grown on the Floating Hill’s side. A small platoon of Noble’s small-kin were either working the border post or manning a small wall shored up facing the wide slab of earth that marked the beginnings of the Yornmundyaws. Only a few carriages were being allowed forward at a time, while the rest were looked over by teams of inspectors.
One such team, the three from earlier, padded up to Helen and Willow.
“Papers, please,” requested one of the small half-dog, half-human creatures, holding up a hand with a degree of authority that belied her size, “I’m afraid your crew will need to stand aside while we clear the goods on your carriage.”
The odinkine that rode with Helen had since shifted into the unassuming form of Spriggans, and were playfully tumbling off the cart to stand aside as requested. It was at this moment that the golem looked up at Willow, and nodded her head at the guards, giving her the implicit go to work her magic.
“Hey! Keep going, you have carts behind you!” a canidaer barked aside the porcinpine. He waved a long haft that looked like a spear, but seemed to be designed for directing traffic.
Helen, dissatisfied, plopped down on her bench and snapped the reins.
“There’s a three-eyed creature in Navipolis who claims she shares a world with the Maker, too,” the golem buzzed, looking stiff as they got to the checkpoint. “But I’ve only ever seen her getting her hair pulled by children. If you have super-strength, why not carry the cart over the last bridge and claim we’re just personal baggage? Then, legally, we’d have to be inspected as one container, or not at all if you flash whatever got you past the guards in the city.”
“Have your papers ready!” yipped the returning canidaer to the growing queue, before being joined by three others. Other wheeled crates were being pulled aside to be looked at, and the group found themselves to the front sooner than inspected.
The bridge here to the next island was much the same as any other, but a small camp had grown on the Floating Hill’s side. A small platoon of Noble’s small-kin were either working the border post or manning a small wall shored up facing the wide slab of earth that marked the beginnings of the Yornmundyaws. Only a few carriages were being allowed forward at a time, while the rest were looked over by teams of inspectors.
One such team, the three from earlier, padded up to Helen and Willow.
“Papers, please,” requested one of the small half-dog, half-human creatures, holding up a hand with a degree of authority that belied her size, “I’m afraid your crew will need to stand aside while we clear the goods on your carriage.”
The odinkine that rode with Helen had since shifted into the unassuming form of Spriggans, and were playfully tumbling off the cart to stand aside as requested. It was at this moment that the golem looked up at Willow, and nodded her head at the guards, giving her the implicit go to work her magic.
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
"Triclops. Goes by Maelgwyn. I'm dat... courting one... back home," Willow hummed, but let the easy going demeanor shift back to an ember of intensity as she looked over to the golem. "I will not be performing to convince you. The only proof I need to provide to prove that I, one who doesn't know anything, have been recognized and granted this here coin; is in fact this here coin."
Taking the coin from her pocket, Willow flipped it for effect with a satisfying ting. Catching the coin once more, she gave Helen a wink before making her way over to the canidaer. Once she'd positioned herself infront of the small half dog, the Brit took a knee to bring herself closer to the smallfolk's height before presenting the coin.
"Howdy! I appreciate y'all doing such a good job, as evidenced by this line of carts, so allow me to help y'all out some. M'name's Willow, go by Metal-Eater as of late, I'm currently helping Noble out with some important business that's taking me to the Yornmundyaws. While normally I'd le'cha carry out y'ur duties, this line has left me a little strapped for time. If ya'd be so kind, could ya let me and my helpers here pass? Got a ways to go, lot to do once I get there, and then get all the way out into the field to find Noble again. Thanks in advance."
Taking the coin from her pocket, Willow flipped it for effect with a satisfying ting. Catching the coin once more, she gave Helen a wink before making her way over to the canidaer. Once she'd positioned herself infront of the small half dog, the Brit took a knee to bring herself closer to the smallfolk's height before presenting the coin.
"Howdy! I appreciate y'all doing such a good job, as evidenced by this line of carts, so allow me to help y'all out some. M'name's Willow, go by Metal-Eater as of late, I'm currently helping Noble out with some important business that's taking me to the Yornmundyaws. While normally I'd le'cha carry out y'ur duties, this line has left me a little strapped for time. If ya'd be so kind, could ya let me and my helpers here pass? Got a ways to go, lot to do once I get there, and then get all the way out into the field to find Noble again. Thanks in advance."
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Each of the road-guard’s eyes widened to saucers when they saw the symbol and the word, AKANUS. They were like dogs staring at a treat, filled with want, but obediently keeping their positions. The center canidaer, a hybrid of young woman and collie, looked unsure at what to do. With a spare hand, she tilted back her silvered helmet, before looking to her compatriots. To her left was a pinscher hybrid, who seemed as lost as she was, and the curly schnauzer-hybrid to her right shifted uncomfortably.
“Nobody gets through without an inspection,” muttered the schnauzer, his face hidden behind a close helm.
“But she has the mark, it bears the word,” checked the collie, holding up a plated mitt, pointing at it with her brightly colored, painted spear.
“Akanus,” breathlessly spoke the pinscher, removing his sallet.
Then from around them all, every Canidaer removed their helmets, halting the motion of routine bureaucracy as they joined in the intonation.
“Akanus,” they said, nearly as one.
“Oi! Who’s invokin’ the word!” came a shrill sound near the bridge.
“The Sergeant!” squeaked the collie, slamming her kettle hat back on her head. Each of the guards lined up in a row at the edge of the row, aside Willow, and brought their hands to their brows in a crisp salute.
Prancing down the lane was an imposing figure for her size, a broad, pit-bull hybrid. Much like the others, she wore silvered armor, but was heavily regaled in blues and golds. A few honors looked to be stamped into her shoulder plate as she padded up, wielding a pole-axe. Her left eye was a bright blue, her right was withered shut with an awful scar traced into her mane of fiery orange.
“Who invoked the word? I want a name!”
“Surge, it was Peter,” said the schnauzer.
“Peter!”
“It was her, serge!” pointed Peter the pinscher to Willow and at the coin.
“The mark,” remarked the Sergeant, her eye alight in soft brilliance at the sight of the coin WIllow held, “A word-bearer a’tha’ Captain.”
“Her name’s Metal-eater, says she’s in a hurry and, they don’t have time for an inspection,” reported the collie.
“No time fer an inspection? Nobody gets through withou’ an inspection,” repeated the Sergeant, before looking at Helen, and narrowing her eye. The golem shrank on her bench, “Is that you Helen? Fookin’ hell, I’ve not see ye since my bridge touched the Cairn Hill and I broke my haft on your knee for smuggling ghostfern.”
“Ha ha,” Helen laughed nervously, “Phyllis! Last time I saw you, sister, you had two eyes. Ha ha! Ha. You’re looking… even better without… both…”
Jurik, as a Spriggan, leaned over, “Really?”
Phyllis, the Sergeant, put her weapon over her shoulder, and looked to Willow, then back to Helen and then to Willow.
“You keep poor company, Metal-eater,” stated Phyllis, a little growl in her words, “Are you sure they’re with you? Not just traveling by yer lonesome with your odinkine… warrior? If you’d like; I can have me Corporal, Yorna, here, walk ye across with her squad. Real proper escort, deserved of a word-bearer. Then, I'll just inspect Helen’s cart here, personally.”
“Nobody gets through without an inspection,” muttered the schnauzer, his face hidden behind a close helm.
“But she has the mark, it bears the word,” checked the collie, holding up a plated mitt, pointing at it with her brightly colored, painted spear.
“Akanus,” breathlessly spoke the pinscher, removing his sallet.
Then from around them all, every Canidaer removed their helmets, halting the motion of routine bureaucracy as they joined in the intonation.
“Akanus,” they said, nearly as one.
“Oi! Who’s invokin’ the word!” came a shrill sound near the bridge.
“The Sergeant!” squeaked the collie, slamming her kettle hat back on her head. Each of the guards lined up in a row at the edge of the row, aside Willow, and brought their hands to their brows in a crisp salute.
Prancing down the lane was an imposing figure for her size, a broad, pit-bull hybrid. Much like the others, she wore silvered armor, but was heavily regaled in blues and golds. A few honors looked to be stamped into her shoulder plate as she padded up, wielding a pole-axe. Her left eye was a bright blue, her right was withered shut with an awful scar traced into her mane of fiery orange.
“Who invoked the word? I want a name!”
“Surge, it was Peter,” said the schnauzer.
“Peter!”
“It was her, serge!” pointed Peter the pinscher to Willow and at the coin.
“The mark,” remarked the Sergeant, her eye alight in soft brilliance at the sight of the coin WIllow held, “A word-bearer a’tha’ Captain.”
“Her name’s Metal-eater, says she’s in a hurry and, they don’t have time for an inspection,” reported the collie.
“No time fer an inspection? Nobody gets through withou’ an inspection,” repeated the Sergeant, before looking at Helen, and narrowing her eye. The golem shrank on her bench, “Is that you Helen? Fookin’ hell, I’ve not see ye since my bridge touched the Cairn Hill and I broke my haft on your knee for smuggling ghostfern.”
“Ha ha,” Helen laughed nervously, “Phyllis! Last time I saw you, sister, you had two eyes. Ha ha! Ha. You’re looking… even better without… both…”
Jurik, as a Spriggan, leaned over, “Really?”
Phyllis, the Sergeant, put her weapon over her shoulder, and looked to Willow, then back to Helen and then to Willow.
“You keep poor company, Metal-eater,” stated Phyllis, a little growl in her words, “Are you sure they’re with you? Not just traveling by yer lonesome with your odinkine… warrior? If you’d like; I can have me Corporal, Yorna, here, walk ye across with her squad. Real proper escort, deserved of a word-bearer. Then, I'll just inspect Helen’s cart here, personally.”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
"I'll invoke Akanus too, and double down by invoking Noble, Sergeant," Willow's metal heel clacked against a stone as she spoke the rank. "Noble entrusted me with a very important task, and part 'n' parcel to that was assembling a team. Noble trusts me and the fact that I think diffrent than 'im, and I went looking for some'ne who thinks diffrent than me. That brought me to Helen. I don' want an escort, no offense lads. I want some'ne who'll be able to think their way out of a tight spot. Now, while that greeting she gave ya makes me question my choice, I'mma stand by my call. I'm also gonna say again, I'm in a hurry and Noble gave me this coin specifically to bypass this hassle. Now step aside, Phyillis. Before I go through you and tell Noble after the fact than some of his soldiers disregarded me."