By the Sigil and Sword {Kelp Cutter}

[Stygg Whitefeather]

A loud clattering erupted from the door which separated the dark, frozen pit which housed the nearly ice-cubed kelpie, Kelp Cutter, piercing the room with brilliant, heavenly light. It's warmth would be like a much needed blanket upon ones bed on a snowy night, giving the kelpie a moment of mercy in the way of warmth. That which slammed the door open stepped in, slamming their hooves against the stone and then iron bars. Stomp, stomp, stomp!

"We still alive, little carp?" Said the knightly armored pony, the same who threw the kelpie into the pit some-time earlier.

The watery grave was partially frozen over, giving the impression of a flash frozen lake, without only a watery hole at the center left unfrozen. The knight pony slammed his hoof against the iron grate once more in an attempt rouse the prisoner. "Elder Camembert wishes to speak with you, that is if you're not more frozen cod than kelpie." The pony lowered their armored head towards the water, a plume of frost erupting from their nose as they sniffed at the unfrozen hole into the freezing tomb.

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp's vision had begun to go blurry, the freezing water beginning to suck the focus out of him. Was this really Camembert's intent? To freeze the adventurer to death for saying no to cult membership? Well, that only just showed how crazy and evil this whole charade was. The joke was on him. Kelp wasn't going to get sucked into sacrificing maidens and killing non-believers. He didn't have his sword, but he did have a sense of right and wrong. Wasn't squat they could do to take that from him.

The warm rays of light hitting the water jolted Kelp to a more aware state. Light? Was someone letting him out? The kelpie quickly broke the surface of the water, sticking his head out of the only bit of surface left unfrozen.

Oh. Look who it was.

"He d-d-doesn't happen to have my sword, does he?" Kelp responded through chattering teeth. "I'd like that b-back and t' leave if I can."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

The knight pony let out a snicker, tapping their hoof against the grate before clasping it with his teeth and throwing it open with a terrible rattle as it slams against a far wall and sliding to the floor with clank. Hoof steps followed, entering the dimly lit and frozen room were several ponies cloaked in shadows which flanked the knight. Their horns went alight and clasped magic around the kelpie and raised him from the freezing watery pit in their magic embrace. A robe slapped around his body, providing the first warmth he'd received since his sentence to the watery prison. The warmth of the robe and the unicorn magic enveloped Kelp's body like the gentle embrace of a mother to foal, before his eyes were struck by a bright flash and as it waned, he found himself plopped on the hoof-woven carpets of Camembert's chamber.

All around him were stacked books, twenty high in great towers like the streets of Manehatten, upon cluttered desks and tables. In one corner was a bronze telescope in an alcove like a small observatory. Another corner contained a high-board bed, stacked with papers, graphs, research and books. In the center, a meter away from Kelp sat Elder Camembert, upon a cushion at a table with warm smelling food – some sort of stew, along with what appeared to be sweet coffee. Behind him, on a mantle beside a white washed window, was Kelp's sword. He motioned that Kelp should join him at the table, an empty cushion rest opposite the unicorn.

”Please, sit, eat. You need to warm yourself after all that.” He said bluntly, though friendly despite their treatment towards him. ”We have much to discuss and time is of the essence.” He pushed a cup of the hot coffee towards Kelp with his hoof. ”I'm apologize for what you had to endure but, I had to be sure of your conviction and the strength of your heart. Not many survive the freezing water – specially as long as you were in there, in fact, no pony has. Though that could be because of your hippocampi blood. Please though, enjoy. I'm sure you have slurs and curses to spew at me, no reason to utter them frozen and hungry.”

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp sunk an inch or two lower in the water as the knight pulled off the grate and threw it across the room, not all that pleased or disappointed with his snickering. Into the room came several more robed cultists, and before Kelp could say anything, he was lifted up, out of the water. "Hey. Hey!" The warmth of the robe was nice, but everyone in the room had zero regard for what Kelp had to say about all this.

In a flash, the adventurer had been dropped into another room, surrounding by stacks of books and with his face pressed against woven carpet. In a few seconds his body had adjusted to its less hydrated surroundings, the tentacles beneath his robe replaced with a standard set of legs. The kelpie picked himself up, looking at his surroundings. Desks, bed, telescope; not important. What was important was Camembert sitting at a table a short distance away. Even more important to Kelp, though, was his sword, resting close to a window behind the cult leader.

Kelp turned his focus back to Camembert when the unicorn spoke up, then looked down at the soup and coffee on the table. Tempting.. if he was an idiot. Kelp knew better than to eat anything Camembert served that the unicorn wasn't eating himself. That wasn't just something to apply to cult leaders, it was a good policy in general.

"I told you I wasn't interest'd in joinin' your group," Kelp spoke, taking the seat opposite Camembert and pushing the soup and coffee aside. Despite having no reason to trust anything that came out of this unicorn's mouth, or that he wouldn't just murder Kelp on the spot, the adventurer knew to keep things reasonably tact. It was obvious who had the upper hoof here.

"Can I have my sword back?"

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Camembert watched with a hint of disappointment in his eyes as Kelp refused the offer of food and drink, as if he were offended by the rejection of the gracious offer. He knew the kelpie was uncouth but that was, in polite society, downright rude of him. Though the Elder knew Kelp had no reason, nor should he, to trust him a little gesture goes a long way, it is, after all, the polite thing to do.

”That's a pity, you show so much potential. Much more than those other three you came with.” He stated as he watched Kelp with hawkish eyes and a sly little smirk upon his muzzle. ”If you do not wish reconsider, you are free to take your weapon and leave.” The the old unicorn rose to his hooves and turned, seemingly unafraid his guest would attack – or perhaps taunting, and approached the window. Then, with his horn alight, he used his magic to raise the kelpie's weapon from it's resting place and return it to it's rightful owner. When the magic faded from Kelp's blade, and dropped before Camembert flunk open the window sending in a howling gust of snow and frigid air swirling throughout the room, knocking papers and feathers to and fro in a tempest till finally, Camembert slammed the window shut.

”However, a rather nasty storm blew in while you were down in that pit. It is likely to remain here a while, least till the Griffons are done investigating the Golden Ursa wreckage. Can't have anypony, or griffon, risk spotting us again.” He turned with a shiver, fur standing on end and stepped back over to the table. ”But, by all means, you may walk out the door. Perhaps you have a chance to survive the ice and snow long enough to make it to the shoreline without turning into a popsicle – if the Timber wolves don't catch up with you first. After all, you survived that watery cell longer than any before you. Then, if you're lucky, you'd have chosen the right side of this inlet to that colony of kelpies. Otherwise... well I hear the under-currents are rather harsh.”

Camembert levitated a spoon into the bowl of soup he had so graciously provided for Kelp, ladling up a sip of it and brought it into his muzzle. He scrunched his wrinkly face in delight as he drank the spoonful down. ”I am disappointed you turned down the food, it's quite good. Potato-leek, one of my favorites.” He exclaimed, setting the spoon aside, ”If not a tad cold now.” He sat back down on his haunches, pushing the coffee and soup towards Kelp with his hoof. ”If I wished you dead, I'd have left you in that watery grave, now eat. No need to be rude about it and if you still do plan to forge the storm, you're going to need your strength to make it more than hundred meters from our doors. That is, unless, you rather hear my alternative option? No oaths, no blood rituals. Tartarus, you won't even have to ride the goat, unless you want too. But, what I can offer is your best option out of this frozen prison.”

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp let out an inward sigh of relief when Camembert said he could take his sword and go. Good. That was all he wanted, to take his sword and get out of here. The sooner he was away from Camembert and his cult, the safer Kelp would feel.

But a moment after his sword had returned to him, the kelpie's attention had been redirected to the window as a chilling breeze flew into the room, shattering his hopes of getting away cleanly and quickly. It sure was convenient timing for a storm to start up, and Camembert's tone only supported the idea that it wasn't a coincidence.

But it was the next thing that Camembert said that really caught Kelp's attention.

"...wreckage?"

Kelp could only frown angrily at Camembert as the unicorn went on about the adventurer's circumstances and how good that stupid soup was. "What do you mean wreckage? And where are Lucky and th' others?" Camembert's true colors were beginning to show, and it seemed pretty close to what Kelp had imagined.

This was a cult alright. One where death or membership were outsiders' only two options. Where objectives and secrecy justified murder of bystanders. The crew of the Ursa was probably dead, Shoal included. Lucky, Dusk, and Julius were probably dead. If Kelp continued to refuse membership, he would probably be dead. Yep, this whole thing stunk of evil.

"Cut th' carp. You admitt'd a few hours ago that your group's been manipulatin' th' weather, so th' least you can do is respect my intelligence. Lyin' and sugar coatin' everything isn't winnin' you anything on my end."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Camembert placed his fore-hooves gently upon the table, clasped together. ”You’re right, we haven’t been completely honest with you – and for good reason but, you deserve answers.” The old unicorn reached for the coffee Kelp had refused and slid it close to himself, ”We sank the Golden Ursa some distance away in a white squall, regrettably with all hooves aboard. We needed bodies to make it appear an unfortunate turn of luck for the ship. Any sign of foul-play would paint a target on us when the Kingdom comes poking their beaks around here looking for their ambassador. As for your associates, they are safe. They left this morning for Equestria, completely safe and well. Though I cannot say the same about Shoal Whitecap…” He dismissed his own statements with a flick of his hoof. ”But what are just my words for you, let me show you what you missed.”

With a flick of his head, his horn alit with magic which slammed down a white sheet over a wall to their right and from his horn, images begun to play as if from a projector, sound and all. The footage rolling across the sheet was from the eyes of one of Camembert’s acolytes, a grey mare in rudimentary armor and a spiked helmet from the occasional parting glance at a reflective surface who dragged with her a struggling and beaten Shoal Whitecap. The next few minutes played out the events Kelp had missed when thrown into his cell, all from the mare’s eyes. His three associates acceptance into the Order, Shoal’s confession, the attack and murder. The projection ended as the mare was dragging the body into the dark as Dusk, Julius and Lucky departed. The sheet rolled up then and Camembert turned his attention back to Kelp.

”As you saw, Shoal wanted a little war with us, another commendation for his sash. You were just another piece of the politics game.” The unicorn used his magic to drag a piece of satin fabric from under some papers, hanging in the air between them – Shoal’s bloody sash with all the Royal commendations and pins, say for one, his mark of office. ”Not really my style.” He tossed the thing away. ”With that, let me tell you my offer. I will quell the blizzard for you, but only if you do something for us first. Do this, and you’re free to go. If that doesn’t suit you, you can leave on your own accord but, don’t expect us to relent the storm. Truth of the matter is, what happens to you is little of concern to me and only by my grace have I let you live as long as you’ve have. Consider my offer payment due.”

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp remained silent as Camembert revealed the fate of the Ursa. It wasn't far off from what Kelp had imagined. The ship and its crew were purposefully sunk to hide the cult's location and activities. Murder of bystanders in the name of secrecy.

The adventurer's vision snapped to the wall when Camembert displayed the footage of events he had missed. He wanted it to be fake. It very well could have been, but his gut said otherwise. It was too natural, and would have likely taken too powerful of magic to fake what he was seeing. Not to mention that Camembert's address to Shoal, dripping with malicious intent, wasn't doing the cult leader any favors. Why fake something so damning? And why fake how incompetent Lucky, Dusk, and Juilus were at killing a wounded griffon?

Or how dumb they looked for all giving the 'everyone's tried to kill me' shtick. Or how terrible a mercenary Juilius was for admitting he willing switched sides.

Wow these three were idiots.

If Camembert had only given his word that Lucky, Dusk, and Julius had buddied up with him, Kelp wasn't sure he would have believed it. The trio had shown more of a desire for clarity than actual hesitation, but Kelp probably would have doubted that even they would willingly join such a dubious operation. What Camembert showed him, however, did more than enough a job of convincing him. This was a threesome of cowardly morons; fools who thought the only option was the one they were presented. Kelp should have assumed that after they're 'long path, short path' decision.

It also wasn't pleasing that Shoal had hired them for the sake of martyrdom, but Shoal wasn't here right now. Camembert was.

"I don't consider it payment for anything," Kelp responded. "But I'll hear it, with all of th' details upfront. I'm not as quick t' say 'yes' as your new recruits."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

”Consider it what you will, doesn't change it in the least.” Said the stallion gruffly, tapping his hoof against the table. ”How familiar are you with Diamond Dogs, namely the Winter Wolves?” He asked between sips of the coffee. ”A detachment of them were spotted a short distance from here before your curved knife ilk desecrated our territory. They have set up camp not far from here, waiting for this storm to abate some before venturing forward – we can't let them violate the temple perimeter.” As he explained, he grew ever more increasing agitated, clearly perturbed by the mere mention of the Diamond Dogs. ”That is your task, engage the Wolves.”

Camembert cleared his throat as he set his cup down on the saucer, ”It won't be good enough to just kill them, we have to instill an otherworldly fear into their pack's psyche. We cannot afford any more of them to come close to the temple – that's why I need you to play into their superstitious fears.” He spoke the last few words with a devilish grin, one Kelp wouldn't be surprised to see from a pony willing to killing bureaucrats within a breath. ”Brutality, that's what we need. Decimate their numbers as they sleep in the most terrible ways you can imagine. We need them to believe that this place is haunted with the most horrifyingly brutal spirits they can possibly comprehend. In short, terrorize them till they run from our land with their tails between their legs, wetting themselves the whole way like the mongrels they are.” He took another long sip from the coffee cup till it slurped empty, before slamming ti back down. ”Do this, survive, and you're free to go wherever you like. I'll be sending two of my ponies along with you, to make sure it goes as planned – you've already are acquainted with our knight, the other you watched your 'friends' through her eyes... between the three of you, I expect the utmost brutality when dealing with those curs. I hope this is something you are able to approve of?”

[Kelp Cutter]

"Winter Wolves?" Kelp listened to Camembert's proposal with uneasiness. Winter wolves were mercs for a reason; they were good. Messing with them was flirting with danger, so you usually stayed out of their way if you could avoid it. A good wolf had with him powerful armor and weapons, plus the skill and experience to go with it. There was a lot that could go wrong here. Maybe his odds were better with the storm.

The adventurer let out a sigh, rubbing his temples as he tried to figure out what his best option was. "...I'm gonna need two things," he spoke, lifting his head. "First, those wolves'll be armed to th' teeth, likely with artifacts. If things go south, I need somethin' just as good. You got a sword, or some sorta weapon that'll even my odds, I need it."

"Second, I want that sash." The kelpie motioned towards Shoal's bloodied sash lying on the floor. "Shoal may've been two-faced, but he, and th' crew of th' Ursa, deserve some sorta proper burial; better than what you gave 'em. If I take care of that myself, at least I'll get some closure."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Camembert slowly nodded as he tapped his hoof against the table, before he motioned towards Kelp. ”See, right there. That's what I was talking about. You have a sense of honor. It's refreshing.” He got to his hooves, ”And in fact, I plan to give the three of you some rather gruesome attire and weapons. How familiar are you with the legend of the Pamolai?” He asked, likely already knowing full well the Kelpie wouldn't be vested with the knowledge of local legends. ”Not surprised if you hadn't, it's a rather obscure one. Anyway, it's an entity of thunder and cold – a little like a Thunderbird except with a head like a moose, body of a pony and the wings and taloned feet like a griffon. It's also violently evil.” Using his magic, Camembert levitated a book from under a stack of scrolls and, with a free hoof, cleared the table before Kelp Cutter as he set the book down and opened to page depicting the thing he had just described. ”Ugly thing, isn't it?”

Camembert paced behind Kelp Cutter, the patter of his hooves echoed throughout the room with each step. ”You, Sister Pie, and Sir Roquefort will be donning some armor and costumes I've had the smith work up, with those and a few illusion spells, they should make you appear much like that... thing.” As he nodded towards the book, ”I also had a claw weapon crafted that you attach to your hoof, between that and your sword, you shouldn't have to much trouble pulling the illusion off.” His voice stalled as he reeled back his last statement, ”If you aren't caught. This needs to be done quietly – at first. Go in early morning, brutalize a few here and there, then Roquefort will light the camp up with some good old fashion thunder and lightning. With some their fellow wolves in pieces and a 'demon' unleashing the fury of the sky upon them, they should scatter like roaches with the lights on and hopefully never to use this territory to move through again.”

Camembert then approached the sash he had tossed so haphazardly aside. ”As for this, we can discuss that when you return. Can't afford you losing it in the field, now can we?” He suggested frankly. ”If you have no more questions, you can accompany Roquefort down to get prepared.” As he spoke, the door to his chamber slide open revealing the armored pony from the watery prison.

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp looked down at the Pamolai illustration in Camembert's book, more intrigued than disturbed by its appearance. It looked like the sort of thing to terrorize a small town of innocents; the sort of terrible beast a great hero would slay. The great hero was here, but the beast, it seemed, was either myth or long gone.

Kelp listened to Camembert's plan warily, trying to picture everything that could go wrong. Already knowing what he was going to say when Camembert began to draw the conversation to a close, Kelp was side tracked by the arrival of his previously encountered warden. "Oh great." The idea of completing this mission alongside this cheerful stallion was not enticing.

"I don't think you really addressed anything I said," the kelpie spoke, turning back to Camembert. "First off, I need t' know; are those claws gonna be able t' stand up to artifacts? If things go south, I need somethin' to defend myself. Second, I'd rather we discuss th' sash now. In fact, I'd really rather just hold onto it. Not sure I trust you not to... 'misplace it'."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Camembert let out an agitated snort through his nose, the Kelpie's stubborn nature, though quaint at first has clearly now started to grate on the old unicorn's nerves. “I realize you don't think too highly of me, however, do you really believe I'd throw two of my best acolytes to the literal wolves without the finest equipment I could commission?” He sternly scolded, seemingly growing taller as he stared down the Kelpie. ”They're not only crafted from griffon steel, I've seen to it they're enchanted to withstand attacks from anything the Winter Wolves could feasible have, as well as sunder some armor – though they're not built to last, if the gears, springs, or hinges bust, you're going to be in for some trouble, so try to avoid a protracted conflict. If you're still worried, I'm sure Roquefort can figure out some sort of temporary enchant for your sword as well.” Roquefort let out a grunt from the doorway. ”Or have you forgotten you're in the presence of unicorns, little fish-out-of-water?” The old stallion scoffed. ”Listen to your handlers and you will come out of this fine and dandy.”

Without a moment to breathe, the old unicorn's horn alight, his magic having snatched up the tattered sash of Shoal and flung it at Kelp with all the care of a tossed rag. ”If it means so much to you, take it. But the Kraken help you if that sash so much as touches Griffon land. Now go.” With that last warning, Camembert turned away from Kelp and approached his cluttered desk where he begun to flip through some scrolls and papers.

Roquefort tapped his hoof on the ground, garnering for Kelp's attention, ”Anything more you wish to pester the Elder with, carp? Or can we finally go down to the armory?”

Waiting a moment more, Roquefort turned and would lead Kelp Cutter down a set of stairs, landing first at a lantern-lit hallway flanked by wood and iron doors. Cultists moved about as they went between room and room, clearly sleeping quarters from the few skewed open doors, as they went about choirs and routine. The distinct smell of baking bread, turnips, and potatoes hung heavy in the air, emanating from a kitchen down the hall. Beside the kitchen lead to another door, another stone stairwell, more winding and longer than the first, leading past a library, storage, studies, halls, and other random assortment of spaces typical of what one would expect from such a structure, till finally arriving at the grand hall Kelp and the others he was with had first arrived in. Across it, into another room, they'd come upon a small stock-room, lined with some armor, weapons, an assortment of stores, and a single dark-Grey mare with a purple mane, dressed as the others she was. She failed to address the new arrival, focused instead on the crate shed been rummaging through, pulling out equipment just as Camembert had described, brushing away the straw with her fetlock and setting it down on a table beside her.

Roquefort cleared his throat, buying for her attention.

Slowly, almost methodical, the mare turned her head for a look, ”Oh, early. That him..? Hi, I'm Maud.” She said in a monotone drone, like that caught between sleepy and disinterested.

[Kelp Cutter]

Kelp snatched up Shoal's sash from the floor, placing it securely on his person for safe-keeping. "Nothin' else," Kelp said simply, waiting for Roquefort to lead the way to the armory.

The kelpie couldn't help but peek into open doors as he and Roquefort navigated the maze of corridors the temple provided. Bedrooms, studies, a kitchen, a library, all with robed cultists milling about. Camembert certainly had a fair few unicorns under his... influence. Kelp could only wonder matter how many of them were here versus elsewhere. How far did Camembert's tendrils reach?

In the armory was Sister Pie, or Maud; the one who had 'recorded' Shoal's death. Her tone seemed to indicate that she was always as dull and unexcited as she had been in the recording. "This th' stuff?" Kelp asked, walking past Roquefort to get a closer look at the equipment Maude had pulled out. "What of this is mine? I assume I'm gonna be th' head of this thing, so which one-a you's the middle and which one-a you's the butt?"

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Maud and Roquefort's eyes met upon Kelp's assertion that all the pieces the mare had been unboxing were for one suit of armor. Perhaps, they thought, Camembert had been unclear about what they were exactly to do – he was always rather vague about details, preferring to keep outsiders very deep in the dark but, could he have forgotten to mention one important detail. Maud maintained her stoic, unflinching demeanor, while Roquefort openly chuckled mockingly at Kelp's question.

”You really want to be the butt of this?” Roquefort said between snorts of laughter, ”Or would you rather have your own set, as intended?”

Maud lifted up a helmet in her forehooves and tossed it towards Kelp. ”We're in separate suits. You'll be taking one part of the camp, I get the other. Roquefort does the pyrotechnics.” She said, as dull and distant as ever – as if the idea of storming a Winter Wolf camp was nothing more than a annoying trip to the doctors.

The helmet that was now in Kelp's possession was actually a nicely crafted piece of work, clearly expensive, and clearly forged and embossed by a skilled craftspony. The surface was grotesque, mimicking the illustration Camembert had shown him earlier. Though, it would be unlikely to fool anypony – or perhaps Diamond Dog, upon close inspection, with a few illusion spells, it just may work at to give the impression the Elder had hoped for. Maud then tossed two unusual hoof weapons, gauntlets at first glance, though something far more menacing. The devices were wicked steel claws, intricate and ingenious in their design, like bear-traps for hooves, they were just as Camembert described. Designed to slip over the hoof while allowing undisturbed movement.

*Snap – splatter* Came the sickly sound of fruit being torn apart by powerful Maud had her metal talons already adorned and had just attacked a honey-dew melon with them, taking out a sizable chunk from its rind and fruity center. She shook of the juice and fleshy bits as she glanced over the device now adorning her hoof, in which she almost seemed to break her rocky personality for that of a smile. ”This will do.” She stated.

Roquefort lifted up a suit of armor from the box with his magic before he dropped it down beside Kelp, ”Try it, needs to fit else the illusion won't work right.”

The suit was, again, like Camembert had suggested, resembling the torso of the creature in the book, though it likely was far lighter than Kelp would have likely intended, barely chain-mail. While Roquefort's suit was fine plate. Though, unlike both Maud's and Kelp's, it was far more reminiscent of the Pamolai, from the pieces surrounding him as he removed his personal armor for that of the Pamolai suit, giving Kelp his first look of the stallion. He was an unassuming pony with a sandy coat, soft green eyes, and a fair blonde mane. The tone of his voice did not match his face, as he appeared almost coltish, hardly the age and visage one may have orginally expected from within that tank of armor he wore. He was almost soft in apparence, with a hint of coltish beauty, his age obscured but, as he threw down his breast plate and leg guards for that of the new suit, Kelp could see the scares through the fur from countless battles – most striking being the device around both his hocks, a metal band like braded barbed wire, coiled tightly into his flesh. It appeared crippling painful as it almost seemed to have fused with his skin and muscle, yet he appeared to walk normally, as if it was nothing more than cosmetic. Without pause, Roquefort explained the device for the sea-pony; ”Its a cilice, my atonement. Some-kelpie, the likes of you wouldn't understand.” He hoisted up his new armor and coat which covered the cilice from view, as he turned away to test its fit.

In the next moment, a harsh hoof knock came from the door behind them. A young mare white mare peeked inside, excusing herself as she rolled a cart in with, by the smell, more potatoe-leek soup. She offered up her apology for interrupting – Roquefort oddly had quickly donned his old helmet as not to be seen with his face bare, perhaps part of a the Order's rules or customs. The young mare quickly and humbly left, leaving the cart and food behind.

Maud was the first to approach the cart, still only half in her armor and sniffed the food. Then, from her side she removed a hoof-sized rock and set it down upon the cart's surface before she strangely poured the soup from a bowl over it, as if in some strange way believed to be feeding the grey, cold thing, before drinking from the bowl herself. It was an odd sight to behold.

”That's your last meal.” Roquefort said in a grim tone. ”Least for now...” He was clearly toying with Kelp. ”I don't know a thing about Kelpie anatomy but I doubt you can survive long without food in below freezing conditions, eat for your strength, for all three of ours sake.”