..... Knowingly, Brynyr nodded in acknowledgment to his brother's complaints of boredom. The half-orc seemed to have an appetite for excitement exceeding the half-elf's, though Brynyr was well used to it by this point. "We're travelling from Shoegrove to near Dumgolar, almost as far past Dumgolar to the north-east as Hillford is to Dumgolar's south-west." He spake, knowing his brother, like most frequent travelers, would understand the travel distance comparison. There was a moment of silence, excepting the trotting of horses' hooves on the dirt-and-cobble path through the countryside. Off in the distance, a griffin cry sounded, barely audible. A normal noise in the Stet Hills. The air was nearly frigid, as it was the 28th day of Frostfall, the tenth month of the year, and clouds of vapor formed in front of the brothers' hoods, and even larger huffs from their mounts' snouts.
..... Later, snow began to cover the countryside in a frosting-like manner. Brynyr's spellbook floated in front of his torso by about a foot, held aloft by a spectral blue mage hand. Brynyr spent his travel-time half-reading and half-conversing with his older brother to keep him occupied.
..... "Tell me somethin’ I don’t know?" Tilgrund asked Brynyr. It was common of him to ask such questions. Tilgrund was naturally curious, after all. Most people assumed half-orcs to be dumb and brutish due to their strength and the low intelligence of orcs, but half-orcs almost always inherited the cunning, intellect, and aptitude of their human parent. Brynyr paused thoughtfully, racking his brain on what he could teach his brother today. Before his brother asked, Brynyr was reading some pages about trigonometry and triangulation that a scholar had written in a book and Brynyr had copied over to his spellbook. However, advanced mathematics tended to be beyond his brother's willingness to learn.
..... Then, a topic seemingly randomly popped into his head. "Tell me, brother. Have I told you of the fearsome Illithids, commonly called Mind Flayers?"
..... "Sounds like the high moorsman at the monastery; assholish, holier-than-thou, and evil."
..... Bryyr let out a hearty and genuine chuckle. "You're pretty close with that description, there, brother. Alas, Illithids are not humans. No, they are about as alien as one can imagine a humanoid to be. Gross, evil, abberant beings.
..... "Illithids are purple-skinned tentacle-faced humanoid beings said to inhabit the Underdark. Most commonfolk believe Drow are the worst you can run into down there. I differ in that opinion. Illithids enslave humanoid races and live in hive-mind colonies. Each member of the race has stronger psionic abilities than even the most disciplined of monks. Due to this, they have an intense hunger for psionic energy, and can only survive off of eating the brains of humanoids. Or so scholars say." Brynyr paused, letting Tilgrund soak up the information. "To be truthful, we don't know much about them. Forays into the underdark are dangerous, and they rarely come to the surface. I saw a drawing of a dissection of one, but the biology seemed either woefully inaccurate, or so alien that the artist wasn't sure how to capture it." As they walked, Tilgrund asked more questions about Illithids, mainly how to kill them. Though Brynyr had said all he knew, he theorized that though they were dangerous, they were probably about as squishy as any other humanoid.
..... After eight hours of travel, or twenty-four miles down, the sun lightly touched the horizon, and Tilgrund commented on making camp. Brynyr agreed, and helped Tilgrund set up camp, with his mage hand acting as a third hand to help the both of them set up their tents, and using prestidigitation to light a small tuft of grass to help start the campfire. Until the fire was started, the world was mute in silence, the snow muffling the sounds of the countryside. Only the soft crunch of snow packing beneath their feet, and the deep breaths of them and their horses, could be heard.
..... That night, though the air got dangerously cold to the point where even their tents had trouble retaining heat, thankfully (or perhaps, thanks to that) nothing had seemed to come by their camp overnight.