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He seems satisfied enough by the answer to sit down without any further questions, after doing so he sorta loses focus as he stares off, thinking to himself to pass the time.

He also begins talking to himself under his breath while doing so, mainly going on about his laid out schedule to himself of what he was going to do after he eventually got to the next town, mainly just setting up a stand and selling his potions to passerby and other travelers.

She arrived with the wind, a semblance of white, of furs, of taffeta worn against the chill she brought. Blonde locks fluttered scintillant in the light that followed her. The whoosh regaled the room with a presence of the north, whirling in the drapes, extinguishing lights. Though her face was as immaculate as the reflection in a blade, her eyes burned of emberized cerulean where she panned her gaze. Fixity came unto the few gathered, a transient regard ticking to purview them and their accoutrements, weighing and measuring. From behind this tall maiden of the north stumbled and slightly tumbled a limber snow-goblin, it's skin more alabaster than even the furs that stoled it's mistress shoulders. Grumbling, the creature bumped into the valkyrie's calf, prompting a sneer to twist into existence upon the woman's porcelain features. Where the goblin lugged a backpack more sizeable than itself, she wore a frock and cloak of fur and a slender sword strapped to her waist by thick bands of leather, braided into one hip-mounted sheathe.

"Someone better tell me what I'm doing here." She spoke sonorous frost, voice haunted by her northron blood, impatience twining her words.

Can I join with lorfea?)

Garner is still in the middle of staring off into space, however he begins to notice how long he has been there, and begins wondering where this Dulrin character is and why he's waiting for him in the first place. He shakes this off, noting that Dulrin might be the person to talk to about getting to the next town.

He lays back on the couch he's sitting on, looking directly upwards into the ceiling as he ponders to himself again when he begins to wonder to himself about the fog, he hadn't thought of it too much prior due to his other questions thus he began to do so as he sipped water from one of his potion bottles. It was clear to him the fog was not natural, it was way too thick and the way it settled in the area within mere seconds suggested a more magical origin which led Garner to have a few suspicions about how all of that coincidentally led him to the tower of which he resides now.

While he was mostly certain that the reasons of his arrival here may be for a reason, he decides to keep it to himself for now, mainly to see what he is waiting for Dulrin for in the first place.

((Ingeborg, ok, cool. Ayelle, thanks for letting us know!))

As what appeared to be some kind of ice witch materialized out of thin air, Ayelle thought better of her idea and the illusion of Rinka blinked out of existence as the elf slunk back into the foggy forest, getting as far away from the castle as quickly as she could.

The small creature with the wide brimmed hat, whose name was Urir, startled noticeably at Ingeborg's sudden appearance and backpedaled behind the couch where Garner was laying. He eyed the snow-goblin nervously, as if expecting it to attack at any moment.

Upstairs, Dulirn smiled to himself while preening his appearance in a mirror, taming a few stray hairs and smoothing his beard and mustache. When satisfied, he strode down toward the sitting room where Garner, Urir, Ingeborg, and the snow-goblin awaited him, making hardly a sound on the carpeted castle stairs.

"Welcome, travelers," Dulirn said, giving a small bow as he entered the room. "It is not often we are graced with such fine and..." he gave a devilish grin to the lady, " ...fair company."

( im sorry to waste your time. )

A slender brow the silver of her fair mane, ticked up by a measure. "That's why," she said, voice catching half-way between quaint and mocking. The northron witch did not so much stare as purview and appraise, her eyes like pale sapphires glinting for interest. That devilish smile of his found ample match in her easy, wicked curve.

The snow-goblin was around two and half feet tall, entirely white save for the fur he wore, his arms long for the scale of his frame, knuckles able to graze the floor standing. A nasty look had twisted to his blunted features as the servant tumbled backwards to escape him. The full set of his teeth grinned across his face for the satisfaction. He inched himself closer, considering prey, when Dulirn appeared and stole the snow goblin's momentum entirely.

Moistening one's lips as intrinsically cold as her's left a glister of crystal, as if her tongue a catalyst for whence she had come, ice still a prickling haze in the aether around the northron witch; another facet of one nimbus. But her cheeks burned of warmth, a healthy roseate afflicting those soft-steeped marmoreal curves and her mouth was not blue for frostbite but painted a natural pink. Her teeth did drew an ivory blade from a velvet sheath when she slanted her impish smile at the wizard.

"I'm Ingeborg of the North. Of Valhalla! Valkyrie and witch. Naiad and Siren of the lake that gave birth to all other lakes. You are in the presence of royal blood, mortal," she hewed her words clear like pearls from one solid host of glacial authority and laughter was a sparkle in her arctic eyes.

((Cool! Is there anything I need to do or wait for, or is this a kind of weave-your-way-into-the-narrative sort of thing?))

((Yep! (Weave your way in, that is) Here's the general idea in case you didn't see the original interest check thread: https://www.rprepository.com/community/forumthread.php?t=59909 ))

Had his fog spell gone awry and somehow summoned this Valkyrie to him? She had not come through the forest like the others. That should definitely NOT have happened, but Dulirn was quite delighted with the result. She would make an excellent lure for the fire demon, her magic feeding it until was more powerful than he had dared to hope before.

And the other... the fiend... what a rare and fantastic catch indeed!

The snow-goblin was not of particular use. He would probably have to dispose of it later, but no matter.

"In that case, fine royal lady Ingeborg, we shall have a feast in your honor. It is rare that I may entertain guests in my humble home. Urir, do come out of hiding, please. There is a feast to prepare!" He was quite in seriousness. There was no reason not to fully enjoy the company of his guests prior to their main purpose.

((Thank you!))

In her dream, she was running.

It was the sort of run that you feel powerless to stop, your feet and legs sprinting away to who-knows-where, independent of your mind. It was the sort of dream that freezes your mind and weaves cold tendrils of terror around your heart. It was everything Sonny sought to repress in her waking life (for a lack of control over their body and emotions can get a hunter killed) and it reeked of betrayal.

There are only two ways to stop dreams such as this, and that is either to stop running (a feat that is easier said than done) or wake up (something which requires the dreamer to experience enough fear to send them bolt upright in their bed, or otherwise the help of another's hands, to shake away sleep's embrace).

Luckily, both methods were used on the hunter, who's wandering feet had taken her from her room in the tavern to the bar area downstairs and into the path of a miserable drunk. As she collided with the body left resting on the floor, she was sent tumbling, head first, onto the sticky wood. With a gasp she was awake, heart thundering, eyes wide. Stumbling away from the man and his unintelligible but certainly murderous mutterings, she made her way towards the door into the darkness of night. With her back to the wall she composed herself, eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness.

Discontent foiled by the cordial respect offered her, the northerner's demeanor softened. As did that impish smirk from her inviting lips. In it's stead claimed a genteel smile her features and what passed as acquiescence in her noble circles was nodded... "Thank you, such a gentleman, aren't you?" As per Ingeborg's habit, her chin lofted behind that yield of enticement. When her gaze was not icicle-sharp and her features no longer formed to match a mien fraught with barbed intentions, the valkyrie looked positively youthful.

The slyer than slyest of snow-goblins had yet to hearken to the wizard's invite, the creature's extremities fairly trembling in anticipation for a meal elsewise; it's gaze anchored to Urir, the smile quickened anew in all it's toothy, primal esurience.

"Shall we?" said the valkyrie, inclining her head to line the question into something more of a request.