MEETUP: Sauna Day!

The snow has been falling for a few days now, and has begun to build up nicely- perhaps not so pleasant for some, who find it an impediment to their trade, but for others it is a welcome sight. Thurid is one such of those others, and along with other members of the Order Paramount, is putting the last touches on a log hut on the bank of the river. The walls are already up, and a couple of shirtless athletes are currently hammering nails into the first few of the roof slats.

Thurid makes her way to them, barefoot in the snow, with a bundle of split logs over one shoulder which she begins passing up to those working on the roof. Another two are hauling a handcart full of coals over. There is a whole hog slowly turning on a spit over an open flame, the skin juuust beginning to brown, barrels of what are likely beer stacked up nearby. There's a large basin which appears to be full of ice not far off.

Snow, cold water and even more snow was _not_ the way to tempt a certain ruddy Dragoon to the cold riverside. However - fire was a strong way to tempt. Slowly roasting meal and a collection of shirtless athletes was only extra incentive to come enjoy the fire.

"Hero!" Aelwyn calls out, from under the large cloak with its furlining; mostly his ribboned horns were poking out from the leathers. "Was the Fire Lodge ordered to be moved here?" He asks - probably with a grin, but he was mostly hiding his snout under the cloak.

Mikilos hums quietly to himself as he strolls along the Tornmawr, not exactly at home in the falling snow, but not bothered by it. His typical grey robes blend in to the white surroundings, but his sun dappled hair stands out.

As the hut becomes clear to him, the tall elf tsks and frowns, picking up the pace. "Seems I misunderstood. Ah well."

Peering around a moment, he makes eye contact with Thurid. "What can I do to lend a hand?"

A growing cascade of ripples precedes the surfacing of /something/ in the Tornmawr. A small, blue form moves along just under the surface, with a small, triangular object leaving a wake in the water.

aThe activity along the bank of the river seems to catch the form's attention, as it turns and moves towards it, remaining mostly submerged.

Down, down by the river...

"Oi, I think... is someone's dog in the river?" Carver stands by the riverbed, having came down to watch, and now posted near the bank with hands on her lean hips. She squints against the falling snow to try to pick out more details, finding it difficult to keep with the submerged object of attention. "I swear, saw somethin'..."

She turns back to watch as others arrive to join the celebration. A hand waves, nearly coated white with snow. Waving. Probably to say hello and not a surrender.

Thurid passes the last of the roof tiles up and then lifts her expansive hand to offer Aelwyn a wave in greeting, "Hail!" she calls over to him, grinning broadly. She seems entirely unbothered by the cold, given her choice of a light toga for attire- though her breath mists and the snow clings to her hair, and her nose and cheeks have a rosy red glow to them. She spies Mikilos heading over, "What did you misunderstand?" she wonders of him, as she heads on over.

Her attention is drawn to the shape in the water as Carver points it out, and her grin grows a touch wider, "Oh I think it's probably a shark." she says then before chuckling. "Well, if you'd like to help out you could shovel some coal into the pit. We're getting ready to light things up." she tells Mikilos.

Indeed, the last of the roof tiles that Thurid just passed up are being hammered in as she speaks. "There'll be food, later, as well." she says and points towards the slowly roasting hog. Thurid heads over to the large tub of ice, and knocks on the surface a couple of times. She nods her head, seeming satisfied, and then fetches her earthbreaker from nearby. She thumps the surface of the ice, breaking it open, to reveal the tub is only partway frozen through. "There, gold tub's ready." she grins.

Mikilos waves vaugely. "Had been of the impression construction was -starting- about now, not wrapping up. My fault for not following up on it." Heading over, the tall elf grabs a shovel, content to pitch in. Though he does pause a moment to peer out at the water. "Shark? Bit far inland for that, but wouldn't be the strangest thing to be spotted out there."

Aelwyn bows - supposedly - at Thurid and then looks at the exceedingly tall elf. He raises his glaive in greeting; the flame at the tip shinging bright. "It has been a time." He tells him, before turning towards the others. "Huntress!" He calls out, "Come join the fire!" He then turns towards Thurid. He looks at the coal, before he raises his head.

"This one can shovel the coal, if the pit is exceedingly large and blazingly hot." The ruddy sith-makar flashes his teeth and tilts his head. "What is this construction for?"

At the mention of food, there's a sudden splashing sound as a small, blue form comes ashore. Dressed in a one piece swimsuit, the colour of which nearly exactly matches her, Irshya runs up to Thurid.

She manages to look bashful for a few moments. "Did someone mention food?", she wonders of the jotunblooded woman. Blinking then, she glances around at the others drawing nearer.

"Gold tub? Are... are you trying to compete with the TarRaCe?" Her face scrunches up a little as she frowns.

Carver joins the others, "I can toss in some hands." She bites at the tip of her gloves to pull them off, tucking them away into a pocket. She flexes her joints then warms her 'mitts' before the fire. "What's this all about anyway? Didn't hear anything about another festival."

Thurid laughs and shakes her head at Irshya's accusation, "No, not at all. We're only going to be here for a little while, while the snow lasts." she says and then gestures out towards the log cabin. "We're going to set the coals smouldering, toss some rocks ontop, wait till they get good and hot and fill the place up with steam. It's good for you!" she says then, "And then what you're supposed to do is go clean off the sweat and cool down with a snow bath. But I'm not about to tell anyone what to do, so just do what you please!" she laughs.

One of the Order Paramount folks waves over to let Thurid know the work on the roof is done, and then hops down. The other follows shortly, and they put their tools away. "And it's not really a festival. We could get some music and wrestling going, though, I'm sure." she beams over at Carver. "But for now, lets get the coals lit."

Aelwyn looks up at Thurid - there are only a few people he looks up to - and his eyes narrow. "Now that is a bath house." He flashes his teeth, tail swaying behind him. "One where one can truly melt into bliss." He looks around at the others. "Anyone for wrestling on the hot coals?" He asks, sharp teeth glinting.

The draconian rolls his shoulders at Carver then. "As long as there are fires in this drowning town, all the festivals are only just." The Dragoon turns back towards Thurid. "Where are the shovels, where are the flints?"

Irshya's frown intensifies slightly, but then her stomach growls and she blushes a light lavender colour. "Erm. So what is it that you have to eat?"

She glances to Mikilos. "There are river sharks and lake sharks, you know." A glances goes to Aelwyn, and she swings her little tail to swat the Sith in the shin.

Mikilos snorts softly, but smiles. "Steam I'm a fan of. Cold baths after, less so. Good for circulation, resperation, and a whole list of other things that aren't immediate comfort. As for wresteling on hot coals... no. Just regular wresteling... also no."

The wizard fiddles a bit with his pack straps and belt, keeping pockets accessable as he pulls them and his robes off, stripping down to pale skin and a loin cloth. He nods to Irshya. "I don't believe any are native to this area, though I'd not be surprised to learn one got brought in for some reason or another and escaped."

"Was... that your stomach?" Carver asks, so impolitely, of Irshya. Completely oblivious to goblin faux pas. Honestly, how dare. She slowly looks back to the others. "Most of us burn on coals, jus' as a reminder. The whole 'fire' thing in general. She just watches as Mikilos divest of wizardly authority and spell components. She looks up toward the sky again with a wrinkle of her nose.

"I can wrassle."

"There's a hog roasting!" Thurid tells the little goblin, and points out the spit. She scoffs at Mikilos, "Well, I'll be enjoying both." she says then. To Aelwyn, "Do you want to do the honors?" she asks, knowing the Sith's penchant for fire, she offers over a flint and steel. For her part, she heads over to gather up some rocks to toss ontop of the coals once they're smouldering, and following that to fetch a few pails of water from the river. She laughs at Carver, "Good to hear it. Good for the body, good for the soul." the Angorite insists.

The other members of the Order Paramount continue making preparations- they'll help with getting the coals smouldering and working a couple of bellows to help them catch quickly, as well as hauling in the stones to toss ontop of them. One of them hauls a barrel of beer over and taps it, offering mugs around. One is still tending to the spit.

Aelwyn oofs and then flickers his tongue at Irshya, teasing her. The Dragoon looked however, ecstatic at the notion of doing the honors though - and he also drops his cloak, revealing he wasn't wearing much more than his usual loincloth and armor and frosted scales. "That this one shall!" He raises his glaive and with excessive amount of flair and flash, he pulls out some sort of liquid and throws it into the air.

Then with a circular motion he flashes the oil, that is set on fire and rests on lines of flames. He then gets suspiciously close to the fire and puts his hand on his hip, turning towards the rest of the group. "This one is now ready to wrestle." The last of the oil is tossed out.

The pool-shark eyes Mikilos warily, "I haven't been brought up here or escaped from anywhere. I came here under my own power of fin and feet." She gestures over her shoulder at the fin on her back, poking out of a tailor-made hole in the bathing suit.

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush a deeper purple. "Nuuuuuuu.", she says to Carver. "It was Aelwyn's!"

Thurid's answer has the Goblin's head tilting to one side. "You... roast dogs?" Blink blink.

"Hog. A pig." Carver helpfully corrects. She wants Irysha to be very aware of which animal is being consumed. "There's the domesticated kind, an' of course, the more feral-like. In Dran, near the Iron Peaks, they grew especially large and dangerous with bristles of fur so thick they could stop blades." As Aelwyn magic mikes himself in preparation, she rubs frantically at her cheek with knuckles. "Fine. All in good fun, but I'm not stripping to my booties." 'scuse me miss shark, squeezing past pale and handsome and the onesie wearing alpha predator to step over the dileneating line of battle.

"Jus' don't complain when I win." Carver says, cracking knuckles. She does not strip down to her seabreeze. It's likely she did not bring those with her, which is terribly poor planning.

Mikilos accepts a mug, shuffeling from foot to foot and trying not to shiver. Might have be a bit hasty in disrobing. He eyes Irshya a moment, and shrugs. "Fair enough. I think that's a HOG, a pig, that's roasting. College cafeteria tried serving dog once. All sorts of unpopular, and wasn't even tastey." Glancing to the more athletic sorts, he inquires "What exactly is the difference between wresteling and wrasseling?"

Thurid laughs as Aelwyn makes a ring of fire, and shakes her head in amusement. "I'll get the Sauna going, then." she says and heads into the hut to light the fires and get thins going. She emerges after a few moments. "I don't roast dogs personally, but some of the curries I've had at the ox-strength make me wonder if I've eaten one." she rolls her shoulders a bit as she watches the pair of them prepare to wrestle "I'll take the winner, and the Sauna should be ready by then." she tells them.

Mikilos's question gets a smirk, "Attitude, mostly." she answers it. She takes one of the mugs that are being passed around from the recently tapped keg and watches.

GAME: Aelwyn rolls athletics: (18)+10: 28

Aelwyn is not flexing his biceps or squeezing his hips! Well, maybe only flexing a bicep a bit. "Do not worry Huntress, there shall be no complaining when the winners are decided." The Dragoon says as he steps towards Carver. The cold was already biting into his toes - but it is the adrenaline that was the fire in his veins.

Then the ruddy sith-makar steps forward, slaps his hands down on Carver's shoulders. "This one is ready." He tells her with wide, gruesomely macabre grin - and attempts to flip her over head and onto the snow.

"Well why is it a hot dog and not a hot hog?", she wonders of Carver, Mikilos and Thurid. Irshya stalks over to the roasting pit, and then huffs, looking back at the others. "It's just sausages!" Irshya seems angrily disappointed.

She crosses her arms and hmmphs. Then someone hands her a beer. This is greedily and quickly poured down her throat.

"I think Carver is going to kick Aelwyn's butt."

GAME: Carver rolls Athletics: (9)+8: 17

Carver twists at the hips, loosening up. Not that she really needs to. Age really hasn't limited her mobility, still flush with youthful strength. Up all night, fresh the next day. No problem. Though troubles have left their scars in place there's still plenty of lessons left to be learned. She's picking up new ones all the time. Don't drink cute little leaf cups of a fey Queen's wine. Don't touch lich's beams. Hunt not in the great seas. Don't wrestle Flameheads?

She ends with her fingers laced way overhead, everything taut beneath her heavy furs and hides, exhaling tension away before turning to face Aelwyn's cockatricing about the ring. "Muscles, pfft. All sho--"

The awful piercing banshee howl is infamous, unique to tortured elven maids of undeath. Carver's is secondary only to them, tonal nails rending wind and ears alike, as Aelwyn lifts her up right overhead and tosses!

Mikilos nods thoughtfully at the distinction, filing the sublte differences away for later use. "As I recall, a bard noted the sasuages resemble ratting dogs, with a long round body. Why that caught on I don't know. Language is weird like that some times." He raises a brow as Carver gets tossed. "....best of three?"

Thurid nearly spits out her beer when Carver is so neatly yeeted into the snow and she practically doubles over as she half-guffaws, half chokes on hastily swallowed beer, slapping her thigh as she does. Once she finally catches her breath, she nods in agreement with Mikilos's suggestion. One of the other Order Paramount folks has found himself a drum and is banging on it as Thurid begins a chant for best of three.

She does spare Irshya a glance, "There's bread around here somewhere, help yourself if it's ready!" she tells the pool-turned-river shark.

Those perfectly sculpted muscles forged in fire, hard work and sense of late autumn fashion were not indeed, for show. Tinted orange, blending down into ruddy reds - and finally deeper purples. A warm contrast to the white snow.

They were also stomping closer towards Carver and there was a hearty slap on her back. "Fine shout, a fair mettle!" The draconian says, and attempts to hoist her back onto her feet. "Let us have another try, whenst one is now properly warmed up."

Carver is pulled from the snow, giving a great shake to toss off the many extra layers of frost. The slap on her back dislodges more. She huffs, annoyed. "You jus' tossed me like grain. I think I just get tossed further next time." She scrubs at her face to clean it as well though good look getting the dusting out of her hair, out of her eyebrows. That will just have to melt. Instead, she attempts to jump up and onto the taller knight's back. "To the sauna!"

Aelwyn puts his hand on his hip, "Tch, luck-" He was about to be coy and deflective, before the - actually shorter - knight was just jumped upon. Already, body taut and wired, and ready to - "Sauna!" He states, holding the taller woman before stomping away towards the promised hut of smoke and sweat.

Thurid's laughter continues, but it's not mean spirited, and she slaps Carver on the back. "And a fine sack of grain you made." she says, "To the Sauna then! There will be plenty of time for wrestling in the snow later! Ha!" she says, and then heads that way herself. The interior of the makeshift log cabin is opressively hot and steamy already, and Thurid tosses another ladle full of water on the stones, which hisses and adds to the atmosphere before finding herself a spot to sit down in and sprawl out.

The evening continues, with drink, food, music and laughter in between bouts of sweating in the steam room and cooling back off in the snow. Thurid goes for a swim in the Tornmwar, and encourages everyone to join her- claiming it to be 'refreshing' even if 'heart-stoppingly cold' is a more accurate descriptor.