Talax had presumed that the Cloud Monasteries were built on a singular mountain, yet the reality was far grander, an expansive labyrinth of colossal stone formations. The vista unfolded before him like an ancient titan's hand thrusting towards the heavens. Each massive rock jutted upward, creating a skyline of soaring peaks and craggy spires that seemed to pierce the very fabric of the sky.
These monolithic structures looked like nature's cathedral spires. As the eye traced their ascent, they revealed the intricate network of narrow ravines and deep crevices etched between them. The play of light and shadow created an ever-shifting mosaic, painting the rocky surface with hues that ranged from warm brown to cool, dusky gray.
The winds howled fiercely as if sculpting the stones themselves. Their haunting symphony echoed through the canyons, resonating against the sheer rock faces and adding an eerie, otherworldly dimension to the place. The currents, borne from the mist-kissed summits, raced downward with a relentless fervor, infusing the air with a biting chill that penetrated to the bone.
Mist, like a shroud of secrecy, cloaked the highest peaks, lending an ethereal aura to the already mystical landscape. It danced and wove between the spires, teasing glimpses of hidden vistas and veiling the heights in an enigmatic veil.
And yet, even in this inhospitable and harsh environment there was life.
Talax followed Gormak’s hand and saw a small settlement hidden between two stone spires. Qalo, with teeth chattering, inquired, “Is the wagon even fit through here?” The entrance to Foothill Hollow was a crack between two rocky spires.
“Don’t you worry, Master Orc; I’ve been here before. The wagon will fit just right; you’ll just have to move ahead so that you don’t get squished.” Qalo obeyed the dwarf’s command, and after a fond pat on the war hog, he ventured ahead of them.
The wagon creaked and groaned as they moved on the uneven ground, and Talax watched with wide eyes as the wagon all but touched the stone walls. Jutting rocks threatened to pierce anyone who ventured too close to the walls, and Talax felt vertigo when he tried to look up; the towering spires seemed to go on forever.
“I can’t believe people choose to live here,” he muttered, rubbing his hands in an effort to stay warm.
“It’s not so bad, Master Talax. This village is safer than most places in Talmar, and there are always new adventurers passing through to spend their coins.” Talax hummed, not entirely convinced.
Slowly, the passage opened, revealing the small village in all its frozen glory. Foothill Hollow was a humble village perched at the base of the monumental rock formations, unfurling in a series of ascending tiers along the steep cliffs.
Talax was astonished by the sight, and Gormak, seeing his expression, laughed in delight and exclaimed, “welcome to Frostfall Alley, lad!”
The main thoroughfare was a narrow pathway hewn from the native stone, leading from the village's entrance to the very heart of the settlement. This central street, flanked by a hodgepodge of small, weather-worn shops, appeared to be the lifeblood of Foothill Hollow's commerce.
Each storefront, propped against the rock facades, displayed an eclectic array of wares, utilitarian tools, fur-lined garments, and trinkets reminiscent of adventures long past. The shops catered primarily to passing travelers, adventurers drawn by the allure of the Cloud Monasteries. Talax saw several people that were in the same frozen state as him, wearing thin fabrics and flowing robes that did little to protect them from the cold.
The villagers' homes, modest and unassuming, nestled into the crevices of the cliffs, forming a cascading array of dwellings rising along the natural curvature of the rocks. Constructed from stacked stones and sturdy timber, these quaint houses exhibited signs of wear and age, yet they exuded a sense of warmth and homeliness.
Wooden shutters adorned with snowflake motifs adorned the windows, while thatched roofs were capped with chimney stacks emitting thin tendrils of smoke, signaling the hearths that sustained the villagers against the relentless chill of the high altitude. Most homes had steep and narrow steps, hewn from the rock, like an extension of the cliff, that let the owners go up and down to the main street.
In the heart of the village, a humble tavern with a wooden sign that read Frosthold Inn stood, a gathering place for both travelers and locals alike. Every time a patron exited or entered the establishment, the flickering hearth made its presence known, promising solace from the biting cold, and a faint tune travelled from its opened windows.
Adjacent to the inn, a small marketplace sprawled, where villagers bartered goods, their voices carrying a distinctive cadence that Talax had never heard before. A woman draped in homespun garments adorned with frost-kissed embellishments, advertised her wares, shaking a small bell that made a pleasant tinkling sound, and promising that it wards off the ice wraiths. Tucked away in a corner stood a diminutive smithy, a modest building that echoed with the sounds of clanking metal and a crackling fire.
The village square, marked by a stony plaza, doubled as a communal gathering space. Travellers and villagers meandered around, shopping from stalls steaming hot drinks and freshly baked goods. There was even a gnome playing the flute, adding to the cheery ambience amidst the chilling cold.
A big goofy smile graced Talax’s face, without him even knowing. He turned to Gormak, “now I get it! This place is awesome!” The dwarf didn’t appear as pleased. “Not much going on. Too few travelers, but better poor than dead.” His despondent muttering sounded eerily like Patch’s, who surprisingly had turned quiet and for the first time appeared to have some spark of intelligence in his vacant eyes.
As the wagon traversed the stone paved alley, it drew the attention of the locals. They all wore similar outfits, heavy cloaks, lined with white fur and hoods drawn up covering half their faces so that they could defend against the howling wind. Most curious were the small bells, stitched at each sleeve of their cloaks, that gave off a faint tinkling noise every time they moved.
“You better go find a room for the night at the inn. I am sure they have rooms to spare with so few adventurers around, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.” Talax nodded and motioned a shivering Qalo to follow him. “I’ll be going to the town hall to get a permit, so I can get rid of some of my stuff, I’ll see you later... I...” The dwarf’s attention was diverted when Patch unexpectedly started running while shouting with excitement. “Patch! Patch! Patch!”
Gormak was out of the wagon in an instant, chasing after Patch and swearing out loud. “Damn it! Every time! Every single time!” Both Qalo and Talax were standing speechless, watching the comical scene as the two dwarves ran, their short legs carrying them far faster than it seemed logical.
Talax shook his head in amusement but then he heard Qalo’s chattering teeth. “Can we please go somewhere warm?” He pleaded rubbing his arms. “I can’t feel my fingers!”
Talax chuckled and nodded. “Let’s go.”
They walked up the few steps and opened the door of the inn. Immediately, a soothing warmth reached their frozen limbs, and Qalo gave a sigh of relief. The place was larger than its exterior would lead you to believe. The inn was built in a natural formation, and its back end was solid stone, with walls that acted as an extension of the rocky mountain, made from stone and mortar, trapping the warmth of the huge hearth in the middle of the room.
Several tables were around the roaring fire, and the few travelers that were in the tavern at this time of day had raised their hands close to the fire, trying to find some relief. At the other end of the room was a bar, manned by a thin man, and next to him, a rickety staircase led presumably to the rooms upstairs.
Without much preamble, Talax approached the innkeeper and offered him a wide smile. The man raised his eyebrow and studied their attire. For a moment, his gaze stuck to Qalo’s threadbare clothes, but when he registered Talax’s gleaming armor, he became much more amiable.
“What can I do for my esteemed guests?” Talax’s smile widened and replied, “We would like a room for the night.” After some thought, he added, “Oh, and dinner!” The innkeeper nodded and checked a small book.
“It will be 20 silvers for your stay and an extra 5 for food. Dinner is served at sundown.” Talax put his hand in his bag and produced the coins. Qalo watched him with a frown and stepped closer. “How many coins did you find in the dungeon exactly?” He whispered into Talax’s ear, and in response, he gave an indifferent shrug. “Some.”
The innkeeper handed over a key with the number 4 to Talax and another one to Qalo, before going back to staring blankly at the wall.
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“Oh, before I forget. Is there any place to get some warmer clothes?” The man blinked as if surprised they were still there and replied in a bored voice. “Lina’s for clothes and Lola’s for supplies if you are going to the Cloud Monasteries.”
Talax tossed the innkeeper a couple more silver coins and winked at him. “Thank you for your service.” The man became alive in an instant, pocketing the coins and giving Talax a gap-toothed smile. “Anytime, my friend! If you have any more questions, I am here to help!” His voice had turned from bored to cloying sweet in a matter of moments.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he responded to the innkeeper and turned to Qalo. “Do you want to do some shopping first? Dinner will be in a while.” Qalo shrugged, although he gave a hesitant glance at the clattering windows.
“We have roasted goat with sweet potatoes and karamaran,” the innkeeper added, trying to sound helpful.
“What the heck is karamaran?” he muttered to himself, not really wanting to know after the previous incident.
The two friends walked out at the biting cold and Talax was already regretting it. As they ventured through the narrow street, seeking out Lina's and Lola's shops, the village came alive with the rhythm of everyday life. Despite the harsh environment, the village was bustling with activity.
Villagers, wrapped in thick furs and woolen garments adorned with intricate patterns reminiscent of ancient tales, bustled about their chores. A group of children, their cheeks rosy from the cold, played a game of "Cloud Chasers," darting between the stone houses with makeshift wings fashioned from twigs and feathers, laughter ringing through the crisp air.
A burly man with a weather-beaten face emerged from a stone-built cottage, carrying a bundle of firewood over his shoulder. With practiced ease, he navigated the narrow steps carved into the cliffside, his steps sure despite the rugged terrain, showing his experience navigating the rocky landscape.
A cluster of villagers huddled around a makeshift stone oven, exchanging tales and laughter as they baked batches of hearty bread, the tantalizing aroma wafting through the chilled air. The rhythmic sound of a woman kneading dough reverberated against the stone facades, a timeless ritual passed down through generations.
Further down the path, an elderly couple tended to a small garden carved into a niche in the cliff. Despite the inhospitable terrain, they nurtured hardy herbs and resilient vegetables, their wrinkled hands expertly coaxing life from the rocky soil, a feat that showed that even in the most hostile environments, life could blossom.
Lina's modest tailor shop stood at the corner, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze. Displayed in the window were garments of sturdy wool and fur, designed to withstand the biting cold of the mountains. Warm hues of browns, russets, and deep greens adorned the clothes, each piece crafted with meticulous care to blend functionality with traditional aesthetics.
Next door, Lola's supplies beckoned with its array of goods neatly arranged on weathered wooden shelves. The shop offered an assortment of provisions, from dried fruits and hearty bread to flasks of warming spirits and coils of sturdy rope. Adventurous spirits gearing up for the ascent to the cloud monasteries bustled about, preparing for their pilgrimage amid the looming peaks.
Talax and Qalo meandered through the village, their breath visible in the crisp air as they sought out the essentials for their upcoming journey. "We'll need something warmer," Talax muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around himself, feeling the chill seep through the fabric. He eyed the display with the cozy clothes and grabbed Qalo’s hand, dragging him to the shop.
A small bell announced their presence, and a woman in her late fifties greeted them with a warm smile. She had a matronly face, with plump cheeks, and kind eyes and she wore one of her designs, a thick, woolen dress with elegant lines that accentuated her waist.
“Hello dears. What can I do for you?” Qalo stepped forward, his shoulders hunched, and his hands tucked away under his armpits, he muttered with chattering teeth. “Clothes, we need clothes woman!”
The woman chuckled, putting a hand elegantly over her mouth. “Oh my! Mister The cloud mountains are as dangerous as a mountain goat! If you are not prepared, you’ll get kicked in the groin! Which I am guessing that area to be as frozen as my sister’s heart!”
Qalo seemed lost in his own thoughts, looking with a glazed look at a thick coat, made from a rough hide. Talax, however, arched his brow and inquired. “Your sister?”
The woman giggled and waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t mind me dear. I was simply joking; my sister is a delightful person, she loves gardening, climbing and stealing my clients with cheap, imported and, forgive me for saying this, sub-par garments.” Talax looked at the woman with delight as she badmouthed her sister, all the while wearing a kind smile.
“That old goat has me rambling again. Would you like some tea dears? You can browse my wares while I’ll fix you something warm.” She went behind a pink curtain without waiting for a response and Talax started browsing a stall with heavy coats, some were rough to the touch, but looked tough, able to take a beating. While others were lined with soft white fur, that felt opulent and luxurious under his fingers.
Talax analyzed some of the clothes, but none showed any enchantments or defense stats; he could only see their durability and craftsmanship. Qalo was trying on some gloves and looking at a row of scarves with a peculiar look on his face.
The woman returned holding a tray with two cups of steaming hot tea. “Here you go, dears!” Talax took a sip and felt warmth invading his very being, melting away the residual cold. A sigh escaped his lips, and he murmured his thanks.
“You know, you are actually lucky. The weather this year has been uncharacteristically mild...” Talax’s eyes widened, and he almost choked on his tea. “You call this mild?” He choked out.
“For these parts? For sure! This time of year last year, only the Breadmaster’s house could be seen from the snow. We had to shovel the snow all day, just to clear the stairs of our houses, only for the next day to do it all over again!” She chuckled again, shaking her head and exclaimed.
“Now, now! Have you seen anything you liked?” For the next hour, they tried out coats, pants, hats, and accessories Talax didn’t know even existed. Talax decided on three outfits, two of which were made from leather and tough hide, while the last one was for warmer climates, with light and breathable material.
He also purchased two coats. He couldn’t decide between the more practical one and the one that made his fingers tingle, so he decided to buy them both; he had the coins to spare after all. Both Lina and Talax concluded that his armor was too practical to remove during his travels, so he would simply wear the coats for warmth.
Qalo, on the other hand, didn’t have this problem, as he wasn’t wearing any armor, and opted to completely replace his threadbare garments with new, warm ones. He donned new leather pants and a complementing tunic in warm shades of brown, along with boots trimmed with black fur. He also chose a long, black cloak that looked like a billowing carpet and, for some reason, decided to buy a yellow scarf with green spots.
Lina measured their bodies with a string that moved all on its own and seemed to know their dimensions instantly, akin to having an analyzing skill. She told them that she would have to make some alterations and asked if they wanted to add warding bells.
When Talax asked about it, she told him that she had an ability to add small items to her garments, imbuing them with wards. She had only unlocked the ability about ice creatures, but she informed him that it was especially useful against the ice wraiths that kept cropping up thanks to the nearby ley lines. They were mostly harmless manifestations of magic, but if you were unlucky enough and one appeared too close to you, the magic could have serious effects on you.
All in all, Talax had to part with 21 gold coins, which made Qalo nearly have a heart attack. The woman told them that she would have their stuff ready in a while, and they should come back in an hour. Talax nodded and was ready to leave when Qalo told him that he would stay and wait for their clothes to be ready.
Talax shrugged and went out into the freezing cold, but only for a moment, because Lola’s shop was next door. When he entered the shop, he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of items. Everything was disorganized and cluttered, forming small piles on every available surface.
He waited for a moment for Lola, but no one appeared. He called out, “anyone here?” He heard fumbling and objects clattering to the floor, until a sleepy, “who’s there?” called back.
He heard dragging footsteps until a woman who looked remarkably similar to Lina appeared. Where Lina was plump and elegant, Lola looked dried out and hardy, as if any fat had long gone out of her body from the constant exercise. She wore tight trousers and a sensible tunic, which had various holes here and there.
The woman looked him over and with a bored voice she muttered, “Another adventurer? Heading to the cloud monasteries, are we? The monks will be thrilled...” She remarked sarcastically.
Talax was unbothered by her tone and smiled warmly. “Indeed, I am heading to the cloud monasteries, and I was told that this was the best shop in the village to get some supplies.” The woman rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You mean the only shop. Whatever. I will give you the starter pack; it has rope, an ice axe, a lantern, some provisions like a couple of cured fish, and a hoofkeeper whistle to ward off those pesky wild goats. They can be meaner than my sister!” The shopkeeper spat.
Talax tried to keep the smile off his face, but he wasn’t very successful. “What are you smirking at, you buffoon? Anyway, do you want it? I have other things to do! If you want a map for the cloud monasteries and a galeguard torch that won’t go out from the first sign of wind, you’ll have to fork out 5 more silvers!”
Talax nodded at the irritated woman and said, “Fine. I'll see if there is anything else around here.” The woman muttered, “Whatever,” and disappeared from sight. Talax inspected the cluttered shelves, trying to find something to catch his eye. Most of the items were junk or of too low quality for him. Finally, he found something that drew his attention: arrows!
He was almost all out of arrows, and recently he hadn’t been using his bow to conserve the few remaining ammunition he had left. He took three bundles of +9 attack arrows and placed them on the counter in front of the woman, who was standing behind the counter, balancing her head on her balled fist, looking blankly at the wall.
Talax paid for his purchases, without the woman even looking up to see if he had paid the correct amount. He then exited the shop and saw Qalo already waiting for him, wearing his new clothes and coat. Qalo had a mischievous smile on his face, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
Talax handed him a bundle of clothes that Qalo swiftly put inside his bag. “What have you done?” Talax demanded, but Qalo gave him an innocent look, saying, “Nothing!” Talax was about to dig further into the matter when he heard Gormak’s voice cutting through the cheery atmosphere of the alley.
Talax looked over and saw Gormak arguing with a man twice his size, while Patch stood right behind him, clinging to him with the same emotionless eyes as always. The squabble was getting heated, and Talax sighed. “We better go see what’s wrong.” Qalo, with a happy expression that bordered on the unhinged, nodded.
“I wonder what we're getting into this time.”