The central building in the town was not the Alehouse as Ordan had claimed. Instead, it was the massive wooden building that was the bathhouse. Saga looked upon with a slight hint of wonder. It reminded them of the swimming hall back home, only it was entirely in wood and built like a massive longhouse. As they entered, they were immediately struck by warm humidity that was a bit of a shock compared to the chilly outside. Vetra, Olaf, and Lenara seemed to perk right up upon entering. Once they had entered, a young woman came up to them. Her clothes were of a simple cut much like Saga's own, but she seemed to be almost entirely covered in runic tattoos. Saga shuddered inwardly at the amount of time that must have taken to get done.

“We’ll be taking your weapons.” She said as a man approached the group with two large and round wooden containers. The woman motioned meaningfully at the party's combined arsenal. Saga thought maybe Olaf would object, but he simply undid his belt and handed his ax and shield over. The rest of the party soon removed what weapons they had as well and the man took them with a look of reverence, touching each weapon to put a small magical brand on it.

"Your hand." He motioned to Saga who stood the closest. Unsure what to Saga stretched out their hand as he took it and brushed two fingers across it. As he touched the back of Saga's hand, a brand matching that on her spear appeared on her hand. Upon inspection, they realized they all had minutely different brands.

“Some sort of identification?” Saga asked.

“It binds you to your weapon. Anyone else trying to snatch it without your specific brand on them will suffer great discomfort and pain.” The woman answered as the man was already walking over to another group of people to ask them for their weapons. "It also alerts you about the attempted theft. " She said as she started to lead them inside. “Your dwarven friend is already here. She was very enthusiastic and went ahead. She has booked you a room but you are free to use the public pools as well.” She swept her arm out to indicate where they were meant to go. AS they passed heavy curtains of soft blue fabric, they left what appeared to be the greeting area. Instead, they came upon the main purpose of the building. Several large pools of water, each made in flawlessly cut stone and filled with water that was being heated up to the point where it made the whole place smell like Sagas bathroom after they took a bit too long with the warm water. All over the place, people walked about. Some in modest forms of undergarments or wrapped in towels, many entirely without.

“I guess the god of Modesty isn't big in these parts of the world.” Saga mused.

“The God of Modesty doesn't exist. Ever heard of a God that doesn't like to grandstand?” Olaf laughed as they were led to a small room where they could disrobe. Saga quickly wrapped about in a large towel, remarking at how soft it was. For some reason, they figured that a semi-medieval fantasy world would not have the luxury of good towels. As they were led to the room booked by Ingrid, Saga noted that the place was bigger than she thought. It has several partitioned-off areas where you could bathe privately in ornate metal tubs. Or larger private rooms like the one they were headed to. As soon as they entered theirs, they were greeted by the sight of Ingrid submerged to the nose in warm, bubbling water and sighing happily.

“I have not been this clean in a week,” She said as the others slipped into the water. Saga was amazed at how comfortable they were about it all. After almost dying and being saved by these people, they found no discomfort at all being so exposed around them. They all just spent the time chatting about things not life and death for once, enjoying the soak in the hot water. Lenara excitedly told Saga about how these baths were heated by magically imbued crystals set into the cornerstones of each pool. Back in Alebridge, they had several such bathhouses and Lenara would always visit a bathhouse first thing after turning in a hunt. The problem with places like this was that they would have to be charged up by someone with the Spiritual Affinity about once every month.

“Someone like Ordan? He is a Pyromancer or something like that, yeah?” Saga asked as they were relaxing in the water. They felt like royalty, the water was so good for their soul after all that happened. It made all the craziness almost worth it.

“Yes. Although Ordan would likely try and charge them way too much. No, I think the owner employs someone far more reasonable.” Vetra laughed softly.

Olaf, who had been silent the entire time, just resting in the water with his eyes closed, spoke. “He tried to fleece me for all I was worth when we first met. His father is a merchant, and Orlan might be his mother's son, but he has his father's love for haggling.”

“So how long has your little group stuck together then” Saga asked, curious to know if the rest of them were tightly knit or if it was more people like Gothwald, who had only been around out of convenience.

“Vetra and Ingrid go back a decade,” Olaf said. “I met Lenara two years ago during a skirmish with some trolls. By then I had known Orlan for about three years after he helped me out of a sticky situation. Vetra and Ingrid approached me around the same time, Vetra needing to sort some business out with some nasty folks who had stolen from her temple. So about two years as an actual group. But it feels longer.” Olaf smiled and Ingrid grinned back. Saga saw the way the two looked at one another and smiled to themselves. Saga's confidence had not been the best back home, to say the least, and they always envied people who were brash and confident and charismatic enough to just go for it.

“So. Elves huh,” Lenara asked suddenly as she looked to Saga who was startled at the sudden callout. "Should I ask the cute waiter if he is available?"

“What?” Saga spluttered, staring at Lenara.

“You need to work on your body language. Also, try not to stare like a youth who just found out love is real. It helps.” Vetra laughed as Saga felt their face go red.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Saga mumbled.

“No elves where you come from?” Olaf asked a look of amusement on his face.

“Not real elves. No” Saga sighed. “We have stories. My part of the world especially. Fair Folk and Fey are a large part of the stories from before my world, well, stopped believing in magic I guess?”

“Interesting. We, mortals, know little of what goes on in other worlds. But we know many of them are barren of all but the most rudimentary magic. Those are the godless worlds that some Gods try to protect from outside forces from time to time.” Vetra spoke, shifting from poking fun at Saga back to the ever-present mentor figure she seemed to relish.

“Maybe your stories come from our Gods interfering. Or maybe there were a few elves. But they are tied to magic and the elements in a way that most other races in our world are not. So the chance of them living in a world nearly barren of magic is unlikely. ” Ingrid said as she eyed Saga.

Saga listened, soaking all the information in like a sponge soaking with water. And very thankful that the entire conversation had shifted away from their obvious interest in the elf at the Inn. “So. Are there different kinds of elves? And since I was, apparently, as obvious as one can be, are all of them that pretty?” Saga looked from Ingrid to Vetra to Olaf as they all nodded to themselves.

“What?” They asked, now feeling like they had somehow said something they maybe should have kept to themselves.

“They are not all that pretty, no,” Lenara said with a smirk. “Some of us are in fact, rather plain. Mael is just obnoxiously good-looking.”

“Wait.” Saga suddenly stared at Lenara, who they had never seen without the hood before. She pulled her hair back to reveal tapered back ears. She wasn’t plain by Sagas standards but looked like some of the heroines on cheap fantasy book covers. Her green face lit up in a giant smile as realization dawned on Saga.

“You are an elf?” They blinked at Lenara who leaned back, amused and not all put off by Saga's sudden disbelief. Once more, Saga found themselves conversing at length with Lenara. With the other chiming in whenever they could.

“Elves come in all kinds of shapes and sizes, just like humans. We are also tied to our elemental infinities on a level that deeply changes us. Mael, who you were oogling, is a Sun Elf. They are native to regions more south than the cold north. I am what is known as a Frost Elf. As you can imagine, we quite like the cold North.”

“The Frostelves have been here for as long as us Half-Giants,” Vetra explained. “We were both well established by the time human settlers arrived thousands of years ago. The largest kingdom in the North is that of a royal Frost Elf dynasty.”

“The King and his court are a bunch of stuck-up assholes though,” Lenara said with a face that showed exactly what she thought of said nobles. Saga simply tried to take it all. Parsing the information and sorting through all the little complications and nuances best they could. This was just a very small corner of the new world and yet there were a lot of different factors playing into one another. But that was just how people worked it seemed. Human, Elf, Half-Giant. People were just people. And people were generally complex and complicated. Saga had a small wonder as to how they knew how to refer to them without asking, but it seemed that there was nothing strange or unusual about identifying outside of the gender binary. Not that they really regarded gender as something set in stone, to begin with.

Eventually, they decided they had soaked enough, none of them wanting to look like a prune as they got out reinvigorated and clean. They were handed their weapons back as they left, and found that their gear had been given a cleaning as they were relaxing.

“I feel like a new dwarf” Ingrid said as she stretched and rolled her shoulders. Her cheeks were rosy and she had a real pep in her step that made Saga snort with amusement. The bustle of the town was now in full swing, the group having previously arrived early in the day. Now there were stalls selling vegetables and roasted meat all along with the main road. Concerned parents yelled after children who ran around playing tag. Seeing so many people living seemingly normal lives made it all a lot easier to handle. It was a sense of normality in a bizarre new place. A place they might just have to make their new home.

“Shall we see if Ordan has gotten himself in trouble yet?” Olaf asked as they all set out for the Alehouse.

***

A little bit earlier, at said alehouse.

The alehouse was almost as big as the bathhouse but smelled mostly of beer and wine and people. Like any decently sized pub or bar, only bigger. A lot bigger. Table after table was set out, and everywhere women, men and others sat drinking, talking, and having a good time for the most part. Some more private tables had people who were a bit better dressed than the others. Many of them seemed to be haggling or talking in subdued voices over whatever business they had with one another. At one of these tables, Ordan sat. leaning over the table as a woman throwing bones onto a thin leather sheet inscribed with complicated magical diagrams that Orden had no idea how they worked. But he did realize they did work, as each time the bones landed, runes lit up as the bones foretold one event or another.

The seer was an old human woman. Her hair was grey, her eyes misty and only half seeing the physical world. And while most of her moved like it was a chore to lift even a single limb, her fingers seemed supernaturally quick and dexterous as they rolled and moved the bones around with each cast.

“What do you see?” Ordan asked, transfixed.

The woman's voice was gravely and hoarse with advanced age. Yet the words held an unwavering clarity to them. “Three Fires. One cold and dead, but embers. One scorching and stable, drawing others to it. One Raging out of control, burning all that touches it.” She spoke, and Ordan leaned in closer. Another toss of the bones, more patterns, more strange motes of light. Fate magic was rare. Real seers were almost exclusively settled in the most uninhabitable of places. For Ordan to talk to a real one was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Apparently, the woman had come down from the nearby mountains. And only did so once a year. Nobody really knew where she lived, and few tried to find out. Only someone with the sight of gods like she did would be able to navigate all those dangers alone. Thad asked for someone fitting Ordans description and waited for him to arrive. It was more than a little unnerving. The power this woman held, that nobody seemed to realize. People here mostly saw her as a harmless oddity.

“Thank you.” He said, sliding over two gold coins, the last he had on him. While he didn’t understand what her words entailed yet, it was always up to the one receiving a telling to figure it out. It was part of the wisdom imparted by the Seer to spurn your mind. The woman simply smiled in a way that was most unsettling as she clearly knew more than she let on. She packed up her things and as she hobbled away from the table and to the door, everyone made sure to give her a clear path. Ordan sat back in his chair, trying to make sense of the vision. He wasn’t surprised fire was involved. It was his spiritual Affinity after all. And the raging fire he had an inkling as to who is referenced. He needed to figure out the cold, dead flame, however. Then he should have some clarity as to what it all meant. His concerned and concentrated look melted away into an easy grin as he saw a table where some people were playing a game with dice.

***

Saga was still taking everything in when they reached the Alehouse. As soon as they opened the door, the familiar smell of spilled alcohol hit them. Saga watched as people moved about drinking, chatting, and otherwise making a ruckus. The biggest commotion, however, came from a table to the side, where Ordan was being held up by the collar by a woman twice his size. Her eyes were red as rubies, and her fist seems to have already visited his face rather violently. Ordan looked to the newcomers. “A little help?”

“What did he do,” Olaf asked, not actually looking to Ordan who blinked in disbelief at this affront towards his person that was clearly in peril.

“He cheated at Will'o'wisp,” She said through a snarl. Saga walked up to where the woman held Ordan up effortlessly. She was massive. Her arms were as big as Saga's head. Her nose was stubby and flat, her teeth all sharp. When she grinned it was like was looking at the jaws of a shark.

“Then you should punch him again.” Saga said. There was a moment of silence at that and the giant woman looked around to see if anyone else heard what the strange redhead human had just said.

“He's your friend, isn't he?” The woman asked.

“He cheated.” Saga said as Ordans eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. The woman second-guessed herself. Glancing between the two. “I already hit him a few times. He doesn't even fight back.”

“Because he got caught. Have you taken your money back?”

“I did.”

“Did you take a little extra, as recompense?”

“No.”

“Here, let me fix that.” Saga reached over and unhooked the very same pouch of coins that he had won from Olaf, much to the large warrior's amusement. The woman took the pouch and shook it.

“Acceptable. It is a shame to ruin a handsome face any more than I have to.” She dropped Ordan like a sack of potatoes. The man let out a grunt as he landed on the hay-strewn floor, clambering up to stare at Saga.

“For a shocked and confused visitor to our world, you sure carry yourself like a card shark,” He said, giving them an appraising look.

“You think my world doesn't have drunk idiots and gambling?”

“I see some things are depressingly universal,” Ingrid said before heading to get herself a flagon of mead.

***

The evening processed a less rowdy and violent manner, as Ordan talked about the Seer and her vision. The group trying to make heads or tails of it. The steady stream of ale, wine, and mead did not make it any clearer, and soon Saga was leaning against the big lady who had given Ordan a piece of her mind.

“So...I am kind of new.” Saga said, eyes wide and staring up at the massive woman. “But are you like. A half-giant like Vetra?”

The woman, who tilted her head like she just saw a puppy lost and alone, peeled the drunken Saga off her gently. Then chuckled.

“No. I am a half-ogre. We are significantly rarer.” She said beating her chest. “I am one of the Jarls captains. I am in charge of the town's garrison.

“How does an ogre and a human…”

“It takes one very enthusiastic human and a very patient ogre.” She said as Saga's face paled. Then she let out a laugh that shook Saga. It was so loud that half the room stopped to look, before going back to what they were doing as the half-ogre raised an eyebrow at them.

“I should likely tell you that I something like one-quarter giant, one-quarter human, and one-half ogre.” She said, wiping tears out of her eyes. “Your face though. It’s as if you had just insulted a god in their very own temple. I thought your heart had stopped.”

“Ok. That makes more sense.” Saga mumbled into their mug. “I am just gonna take my leave.” Saga shuffled off as the lady chuckled.

“My name is Gua” She called after but Saga was too drunk to commit anything to memory. That's when they collided with a tall man with a truly terrible goatee and blond hair that could use an army of hairdressers to fix. The man looked at Saga like they had killed his dog.

“Watch where you are walking, weakling.”

“Weakling? I killed a fucking Bear. A zombie Bear. Alone” Saga snapped, drunk and feeling all kinds of belligerent. They leaned in, grabbing his shirt which took the man by surprise. “With my own bare hands.” They snarled. The man, trying to regain some manner of composure, shoved Saga back. This sent the drunken Saga back, causing another patron to spill his drink over the lady he was chatting with. The lady in turn looked pissed as all hell at the man who shoved Saga. The man with the drink mostly looked sad at spilling his drink.

The woman shoved the man with the drink, getting up right up in the man's face. “Maybe you should stop picking fights every day Jasper,” She said as Saga stared in amazement. This world was full of fiery women and Saga was digging it.

Saga leaned in and snarled “Yea, Jasper. Stop being a fucking cacti, you human collection of pricks.”

“I’m an elf” Jasper exclaimed, irritated.

“You're the ugliest elf I ever see-” Jasper punched Saga before they could finish the sentence. Saga had been punched before, but not on the nose. They had never been sucker-punched. It was not something they cared for and as their entire body went into fight mode, a status message popped up.

{You have taken damage. Due to the status debuff: [impaired judgment], you have entered Rage State. Temporary bonus to brawn [+12]}

The rest of the party watched as the scene unfolded. “Is Saga about to...” Vetra asked, wide-eyed as they saw another side of Saga.

“Yep, and that's a chair,” Olaf said with a sigh as he rushed to up to his feet, ready to drag Saga out of the fire. But he was too late, as a raging Saga pulled up a chair and used it as an improvised weapon, smashing it over the man who had called them a weakling and punched them in the face just a moment before.

Jasper Arnham was a frost-elf. His main stat was mind and grace. He was only level 8 but it should be more than enough to handle an uppity level 1. But his brawn was only 12. As such, he was not ready for the chair to hit him with enough force to break the chair and send the elf tumbling into a table full of tired-looking wagon drivers. Their drinks all were soon scattered all over the place and their game of cards likewise scattered along with their bets. They all looked to Saga and then to the elf picking himself up slowly.

Then, all hell broke loose as Saga, in an act of drunken berserk, threw a leg of the chair and clocked one of the wagon drivers in the head as he was about to call them something rude and no doubt morally repugnant.

The following minutes were a blur, as people either saw a chance to clear the air in the developing melee or settle some scores of their own. Or as in most people's case, moved to a safe distance and enjoyed the brawl as spectators. Among the latter Vetra, Ordan and Ingrid calmly watched on as their newest friend was doing a poor job managing their first-ever barfight. Saga took more punches than they gave out but seemed to fight with a sort of unrelenting urge to just destroy things. As a result, there were two men and one woman on the floor nursing a black eye, chipped tooth, or broken toe. Olaf was wading through the melee, picking up and flinging people away as they tried to stop the giant of a man. He then picked up a flailing, angry Saga who spat venom at one of the wagoners who was nursing a deep bite mark on his left arm. The number of expletives and colorful curses that screamed out of Saga's mouth would have made a bard weep.

“We are leaving,” Olaf said, the angry Saga slung over his shoulder. Saga was 6 feet, so this was a new feeling for them. But as they were about to leave, Gua intercepted them.

“If you're going to the Bloated Pig. Can you ask Kars to send my men over? They are over there on a break right now. Oh and tell Saga that as cute as they are, next time they start a brawl in my town, they are sleeping it off in one of my cells.”

“Noted” Olaf said with a curt nod as the group headed for the Inn and some warm beds. They had gotten halfway there before Saga was tuckered out and started snoring. Saga missed the prompt that came up.

{ Level up! Level 2.

Path Unlocked: Berserker.

Attribute up:

Brawn + 4.

Grace + 1

Spirit + 2

Mind + 1

Passive Skills Gained:

Unyielding.

Born For Battle.

Any weapon, Any Time.

Improvised Weapon Proficiency (Novice) acquired.

}