The Wight's Tough

SUMMARY: Olav runs into the Hearthguard Elpida outside the Soldier's Defense as he tries to visit with a guard he met during the wight invasion. They discuss the weather and fighting undead.

With the cold gusts of wind coming in from the west, the streets are practically deserted at this point. By the Soldier's Defense, a sentry stands guard outside the main entrance. Wearing a long, thick cloak over her chainmail, with obvious bits of extra padding for more warmth, the Sunblade seems almost oblivious to the cold. Being able to stand in the lee of the building helps too. The woman eyes those few who walk past, stepping forward to help a pair of people carrying an injured companion. She disappears for a brief moment, before returning to her post.

Olav is politely but insistently talking to the receptionist at the hospital, trying to obtain information about a patient whose name he doesn't actually know. Meanwhile his dogs are waiting outside, watching the Sunblade curiously. The greyer of the two approaches Elpida boldly and sniffs her boots.

Elpida smiles at the two dogs, and pulls free the gauntlet from one hand, offering it to the grey one for sniffing. "Well, tis a cold day to be taking your master for walkies, isn't it? I hope there's a treat in it for you down the road."

The greyer dog sniffs Elpida's hand, then licks it. The whiter of the pair, not to be left out, follows suit. Olav walks out of the hospital looking unsatisfied as Elpida talks to them, then grins broadly at the sight. "By Emereth standards it's a bit dangerously warm," he remarks. "I still have trouble not worrying that I'll fall through the ground. So the cold honestly doesn't bother me too much. As for the treat... well, well just have to see how the day shapes up, won't we?" he adds, mostly to the dogs, crouching down to approach their level. Grey licks his face and he laughs. Straightening up, he extends a hand to Elpida. "Olav Feyson, of White Bear. And these are Grey and White. Nice to meet you."

Elpida offers her ungauntleted hand with a grin. "Elpida, of the Daeus temple.", she replies. "THey are solid looking hounds. And it is rare that the cobblestones open up and swallow people whole. It's rare, but not unheard of. Usually only when things have been tunnelling. What brings you to the hospital?"

"Oh, I know," he assures her, "it's just that old habits die hard. Back home you had to be VERY careful walking about in weather like this. And I was hoping to check in on a guardsman who helped out during an undead invasion the other day, but, well, I never did catch his name, and apparently there are several." He shrugs. "I hope he's OK."

Elpida nods slowly and pulls her gauntlet back on. "That's a shame that you could not find him. Perhaps you could let me know his name and what he looked like, I could pass on a message or such. I regularly work with the city guard, as well the Temple of Daeus and other temples. Might run into him, yes?"

"Would you? That would be very kind. He was human, about a head shorter than I am, clean-shaven, strong arms, fought with a glaive, wore chain mail," he explains.

Elpida tilts her head slightly and nods. "That doesn't narrow it down a huge amount, but I will ask around. Was it a city guard?"

Olav nods. "He was, I think. Thank you." He frowns. "I think there were a lot of city guards injured in the attack."

Elpida nods, "So I have heard. Perhaps checking the temples might find him?"

"Worth a shot," he agrees. "Have there been more attacks since?"

Elpida rubs at the back of her neck. "Not that I know of. It has been peaceful here, at least. When was this most recent fighting, that you found yourself in?"

"Oh, you know... last week, when the wights attacked," Olav says vaguely. "But everyone's been so nervous since then, you know?"

Elpida nods slowly. "There have been times when you could ask three people about an attack, and get five answers. Undead have attacked the city before, coming up out from underneath. And then there is the demon threat, from the Felwood. The corruption of the land. Heth in Dragonier. And the ever-present Charn." She shrugs, "I was out of the city when that happened, so I've only heard about it second hand."

Olav nods. "It was pretty intense. We had our share of undead in the Emereth, but nothing like that. They were, I dunno, smart, or something."

Elpida frowns at that suggestion. "Those are the worst kind, intelligent undead. If they can think on their own, or obey complex commands, then they are quite dangerous. Did you kill them all?"

Olav laughs. "Me? Hardly. I helped a bit though. But I don't know if we took them all down, or if they did what they were doing, or... well, whatever they were doing."

Elpida chuckles. "Still, one can hope. The less of those in the world, the better. Wights, I mean. Those are vicious."

Olav nods. "They are. And there always seem to be more of them."

"That's their nature, it seems.", the woman says with a nod. "I almost prefer fighting hordes of skeletons, at least they smash easy."

"I know, right?" Olav agrees enthusiastically. "Back home that was most of what we fought, skeletons and zombies. We did face a wight once, a few years ago, but I was too young to do much then. And it nearly wiped us out." He shakes his head, grimly. "What's the worst thing you ever fought here?" he asks curiously.

Elpida makes a face at that question, and looks away a moment. "Pretty much skeletons and zombies, but they came from below. They broke in from the crypts near the Temple of Vardama. It was terrible, so many people were hurt or killed before a response could be formed."

Olav nods, then blinks, puzzled. "The Vardamans... they're, like... I mean, they're all _about_ death, aren't they?"

GAME: Elpida rolls knowledge/religion: (12)+7: 19

"They are about death as a natural process. All that which lives must, eventually, die. Vardama sees that the souls of the dead move on to where ever they are supposed to move on." Elpida grins. "She especially loathes undead and the necromancers who summon and create them."

Olav nods again, more slowly. "That... makes sense." He pauses. "I hope they can do something abuot the wights, then."

Elpida nods, smiling brightly. "There are many clerics in this city. It is, in a way, silly to use undead against her. But still, they persist."

Olav shrugs. "I guess when the only tool you have is an axe..." he says with a grin. "But they'll probably keep persisting. Say what you will about the undead, they are _stubborn_."

The woman chuckles, "Indeed, they are that, if nothing else. But, at least fire is an effective tool against them, when one does not have holy water and blessings."

"Axes work pretty well too," Olav adds with a grin.

Elpida nods to him, "Indeed. As is having hounds to sniff them out and harry them."

Olav shudders. "I... would rather keep them away from the undead, honestly."

"You would have to be careful, yes, but in packs, they do well." The woman slowly stretches and flexes her hands. "So do you live in the city, or just passing through?"

"I live here," Olav agrees. "I was camping outside the city until they declared martial law... I'm renting a place over in the Lower Trades now. It's not much, but... well, it beats sleeping on the dirt."

Elpida nods. "Well, I have to do a patrol in a short bit. But perhaps I can talk to you again later, yes?"

"Sure, I'd like that!" Olav says cheerfuly.