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"Find the hut? Enter it. Me no think that good idea." The goblin is visibly shaking while he thinks about this. "When anyone smart see hut... they run. No be seen by hut. Worse than pretty flying dolls in tiny doll houses."
He stops digging through Aoife's things, and meekly gets up, and walks to Coramus. He tugs at the conjurer's robes, asking, "Boss... please no make Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight do this. Me good goblin. Me try harder. Me want to live, and be hero!"
Slowly, Kuragin comes to his senses. The blindness in his eyes fades, and he starts to hear noises, both familiar and unknown. He opens his eyes, and sees the battle is over. But who is this rider? The words Baba Yaga and Black Riders come through.
Eventually Kuragin comes to understand the situation. Never having cared much for Elvanna, he will gladly oppose her plans. Except... It all sounds like suicide. Go against Queen of Irrisen, White Witch who has managed to capture Baba Yaga herself.
"Why us?" is the only question the baffled witch manages to ask the rider.
"Calm yourself, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. I shall bestow upon thee the key to accessing and using the hut safely," he says, for all the world as though such vast mystical force as Baba Yaga's Dancing Hut can be controlled with something so mundane as a key, "With it, you may do things you have never dreamt of... but first, you must find the hut. It will be in Whitethrone, I believe.
"As for why you," the black rider looks at each of you, "I have a feeling. Perhaps it is destiny. Perhaps it is just that there are no other heroes nearby, and certainly none who have just defeated one of Elvanna's vanguards. Worry not, though, for I have more than a key to bestow upon you. I have other gifts besides, but you must accept my mission first... since I cannot, you must promise to do all you can to see that Baba Yaga is freed."
Kuragin rummages through the recesses of his mind regarding the Three Riders of Baba Yaga. They do indeed come every hundred years or so. The Riders were once mortals, sons of Baba Yaga (it is rumored), who have dedicated their lives to ensuring all is ready for her once-a-century return to Irrisen. Some have tried to stop the heralds from coming, but none have succeeded. This is the first time in 14 centuries that any of the Three Riders has been killed. It is unimaginable that all three have fallen.
Their function is unclear, but most scholars do agree that the Three Riders are heralds Baba Yaga's arrival and allow the outgoing queen some time (usually a week or so) to get her affairs in order before being taken away. If legend holds true, they also scout Irrisen and give Baba Yaga a full accounting of how her latest queen has done as a ruler.
None know where the queens go when Baba Yaga claims them, not even the queens themselves. The new queen is always someone new. She arrives with her family and becomes the new ruling family of Irrisen. Her family usually only consists of her children and grandchildren.
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"Me go back to Whitethrone? Where bad bosses use us goblins for bad bad things? But me can see if me mummy still lives... me miss her bad." Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight looks morose, but slowly coming out of it.
"You promise me no turn into little Tien doll, or something? Or get put into Baba Yaga soup, for her to eat? Or stomped by giant chicken legs? Or..."
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With the help of the little blue goblin, the child finished rummaging through her pack and produces what appears to be two pieces stiff paper about the size of a human hand. The sheets of paper, rectangular in shape, are revealed to be cards at closer inspection, each with its own artful harrow representation. The cards, after a time spent jostling in Aoife's bag, continually prodded, crushed and stained, are visually in a tattered state of utter disrepair. Each shows many creases, awkwardly colored splotches transferred from the food in her bag, and frayed edges fast becoming pulp from some unseen, open container of water.
The child holds aloft both cards for the knight to see. The first showing an injured man on a throne, bandaged and bleeding, surrounded and tended by a throng of ghostly apparitions in various acts of worship or supplication. The second, brilliantly displays the blood red carapace of a royal ant donned with an ornate jeweled crown, while using her insectoid limbs to feast upon decadent foods as her larvae-children convulse on the floor beneath her.
The child seems frustrated as she approached the man and holds out the survivor for him to take. "I stole this from Madame Enfer," she says, still holding the card for the man to take. "I believed it meant I would find my father and that he needed my help... I was so scared she would catch me that I hurried and basically ran from Heldren to escape her. And was so excited because I thought I was destined to find my father..."
"But the survivor was meant for you all along... You are the one who needed our help..."
"So I think you should have it," she says. "This card, all of us, and you... fate had us travel a long way to get here."
After the old knight takes the proffered card, Aoife steps back and finishes speaking. "I will keep the Queen Mother for myself," she motions to the remaining card still in hand. "And I will keep it until we stop Queen Elvanna..."
"And then I'll bury her with it..."
... "I stole this from Madame Enfer," she says, still holding the card for the man to take...
Ishbaad crosses his arms, taking a deep breath. Though if there is judgment, it cannot be seen on his impassive face.
When the girl finishes, he smiles.
"If you must hear the words, then I too, accept your mission. Iomedae works in mysterious ways if she meant for me to help rescue the witch-queen herself. Jewel would always say we were not meant to understand the full depth of the events of this world, at least not in this life."
We have not found any answers yet on where Tighearnan might be, or what he has gotten himself in to, yet somehow I feel we are closer. As if walking down parallel paths, chasing the mysteries behind the Irrisen intrusion. We will find you Tear... I hope you are ready to answer to your daughter.
"You are a great warrior we can see though, hardened by centuries of battles and fulfilling your purpose. How should simple travelers such as us do what three riders of legend could not? You seem to accept your apparent fate with great calm."
"I do not fear death, or failure. I do not fear a magic hut or the tyrants behind portals who would use terror to control those they deem beneath them." Ishbaad glances at the goblin and winks. "I will gladly die in a cause greater than myself, and vanquish countless fear-mongers along my way to glory. It's not every day you can say the fate of the world hangs in the balance of your decisions, success or failure. I will accept that burden if Iomedae wishes me to bear it. But how..." Ishbaad pauses, searching for the right words. "What..." another pause.
"Where do we start?"
Jorvik stands to the side, listening to his new companions query the dying man.
Enter the hut, free Baba Yaga, travel back to my homeland - Sweet Desna, this one will be found wanting
"Rider, may Desna carry you swiftly to the afterlife. We are woefully unqualified for this task. We will be fighting not only the evil the queen has created, but also the parts within ourselves that we have been running from. We may be our own worst enemies. Our lives are short, our contributions few, yet I agree with my comrades, let us do what we can to stop what is happening. I accept your quest."
Simply stated, Jorvik's expression does not change. His visage remains clouded with unreleased anger.
"Once through the portal in Waldsby, how do we 'close' the portal?"
Coramus pats Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's shoulder, but nods gravely. "I'm afraid we must, my friend. Though we have avoided Irrisen and the Winter Witches these past many years, we can not allow such a fate to encapsulate the entirety of Golarion. I've spent my last four decades running, and soon there shall be no escape from the depravities of the b+$@! queen Elvanna and her unholy followers. We must accept this quest!"
The old man's voice quivers as he speaks, his fear palpable. But beneath it is an iron determination, the willpower to do what he must, as he has done for most of his life. Perhaps if he did this, those tortured screams in his nightmares would finally cease.
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"Nothing bad will happen to you at my hand," says the black rider solemnly, "But the Witch Queen may do many unpleasant things to you if you accept this quest and are caught. I have faith that Baba Yaga has lead me to this place, and that you are the right people for the job."
"My child, you have experienced such a tragedy in your life," he says sadly, his old wizened eyes seeming to peer within Aoife's soul, "I accept this card, though I fear that it will be of little use to me. Perhaps, though, it will help provide me direction in the afterlife. It can be my shepherd. I would be honored if you would bury me with it."
"Thank you for accepting the quest. I know not how to close the portal, but I do know that it must be done from the other side," he seems for a while to be deep in thought, "Something must be powering it, and I would suspect Lady Nazhena Vasilliovna's Pale Tower will contain that magical focus. I would assume destroying that focus would be adequate for closing the portal, but I am not wise enough in the ways of witchcraft to know for sure."
The rider stands, at last, with much effort. He gratefully accepts any help offered. When he is on is feet, he seems to grow slightly stronger after such a struggle. From his robes, he produces two items: a lock of white hair from a frost giant’s beard and a plague doctor’s mask. These two items appear perfectly normal and mundane in every way.
"These two items," the rider explains, "Are keys to Baba Yaga's Dancing Hut. They were deactivated by Queen Elvanna, but I have the means to reactivate them. For once and for all, do you accept this quest to find Baba Yaga and end Winter's approach upon all of Golarion?"
"Rider, I feel I have no choice but to accept. Too long have I watched the world go by, letting darkness and despair prevail as I fled for greener climes. It is time to make a stand."
The child turns the remaining harrow card in her hand gently, as if the thick paper, though creased and tattered, is a treasure to her. As she flips the card over, she can see a few odd words inked onto the back of its surface composed of strange symbols she does not recognize. Raising her eyes back to the dying knight, her voice is distant and almost drowned out by the howling of the portal's emanating wind.
"I will make sure the harrow card is with you... after you... when we..." she struggles to finish the sentence, her fragile voice cracking with sadness. "I hoped the fortune teller's words about the survivor meant I would find my father. I thought that if I kept the card, I could make that fate come true... but I'm not so sure anymore..."
"I can't promise I can see this quest all the way to end," she begins, speaking very honestly and barely holding back the tears. "But I'll go as far as I can. I left my home to find my father and to save him. But I'm not sure fate will let me or if I'll ever see him again."
"I won't lie to you, I want to find him more than anything... More than what you have asked of us. But I'm so afraid my father might already be... be..." again the child cannot finish her thought and only manages to continue after a few moments spent holding her guantlet-clad hands over her face.
"But I can promise that if anything happened to my father because these portals began to appear, or because what you say Queen Elvanna has done, then I will stop at nothing to stop her."
Kuragin shakes his head in disbelief. Madness! These southerners do not know Elvanna's power, And to ally oneself with Baba Yaga... But the witch feels peer pressure from his companions, who take upon the task without second thoughts. Ignorant they might be, but brave also. And when he really thinks about it, the idea of Elvanna's rule throughout Golarion doesn't sound tempting. Wasn't that the reason why he arrived southlands - to escape the White Witches' rule?
"I, Kuragin of line of Ksenyia, will accept this quest" the Jadwiga says, straightening up as he speaks. Speaking those words to a Black Rider feels heavy, and Kuragin thinks these words cannot be unspoken easily. All he can do now is stand and wait.
The black rider looks gratefully to everyone gathered. Without another word, he places the keys upon the ground, produces a dagger and slits his own throat. The Rider's lifeblood pours over the lock of hair and the mask, and the rider topples sideways into the snow. Slowly, both his blood and his armor begin to glow before vaporizing into the ether. All that is left are the objects, clean of blood and an the crumpled form of a naked old man, the ice shard that was sticking out of his back is nowhere to be scene.
As the companions look to each other, they notice that they are all emitting an unearthly glow also. This fades quickly, but each feels... different.
The child looks onward as the old man dematerializes before in a blazing glare, causing her eyes to well once again. As his form reappears, now the simple and sad remains of withered old man, she cannot help but look away and hide her face. A moment later she can feel a sense of power and strength gathering about her and the child pulls back her hands and looks onward as the giant gaunlets clench with a new found vigor.
"I promised to bury him," she says, feeling the strange power now coursing through her veins. "I can't leave him like this..."
The youth looks about the camp for any sort of tool or implement capable of digging into the frozen, snow covered earth, and sets about the arduous task of burying the strange knight which she never had a chance to know.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight looks shocked at the Rider's sacrifice. He has never seen anything like that, and it impresses him... deeply.
"Eefie, me will help. Me not have tools, either though, but maybe we could build a bonfire and burn him. Me think he might like being warm for once, what do you think?
"Or maybe Boss can summon some critter that can dig real well. Of course, he not so powerful as Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, but he can do something, me is sure of it."
Ishbaad looks on unblinking as the legendary knight completes the blood ritual to activate the keys, moving only to wrap an arm around Aoife, expecting her recoil at the grisly scene. It was one thing to slay a creature, or even a man, in battle, but another entirely to watch one take his own life.
Inside Ishbaad recoils just a bit himself, though his emotionless face does not betray it.
As the glow surrounds him, the statue-man closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and feeling his gear get lighter.
"That was a gift most unexpected, and one we shall not waste, champion." He says to the now peaceful looking knight.
Without another word, Ishbaad picks up the keys to the hut, and goes about helping his charge dig a hole in the frozen ground.
Ishbaad watches as his friends look for ways to dig a hole.
"Please, stand back a moment. I shall speak to the earth."
He ignores the quizzical looks, pausing to shoo the onlookers back just a bit further. Standing over the fallen knight, Ishbaad takes a deep breath, focusing his new-found strength and reserve.
With a shout he slams both fists into the ground. A rumble and a wave of earth and snow erupt in a circle around him, breaking up the earth into large, loose chunks.
"The earth will only comply for a short time. A minor inconvenience for her. It takes centuries to truly sculpt lasting change..."
Once the knight has been buried, Ishbaad recommends that they set up camp and rest in the already prepared cave and igloos. Even snow and cold cannot stop Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight from getting a roaring blaze going. With a relatively comfortable night's rest, he wakes, ready to face whatever is on the other side of the portal.
We may never return here after this. He looks at Aoife, wide-eyed and naive. We have already moved past the threshold of irreversible change. This is merely one more step in the journey.
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Once the rider is buried, and camp is set up, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight starts hauling out his alchemical kit, working on an alchemical creation. He then mixes up a new extract, and drinks it Given the number of fey the team has faced, he starts creating a paste into which he mixes a goodly amount of cold iron filings .
Kuragin watches the grisly display with a frown. "I suppose this is the reward for allying oneself with Baba Yaga. Well, what is done, is done." Somewhere in the back of his skull the words of the sooth-sayer echo and nag about his fate. At least it is very clear where we must go now.
Kuragin helps Ishbaad with the rider's corpse.Once he is is lain in the earth, the witch performs a simple Jadwiga funerary ritual, to help the ancient man's soul to leave the shackles of the flesh vessel. Only once this is done, he turns his interest to the camp around the portal, scanning it with Detect Magic to find anything of interest.
The companions bury the black rider in an interesting fashion. While Aoife does find digging equipment, they are sized for the Troll . Presumably he used to hollow out his lair to the north of the encampment.
As the companions sift through the campsite and their fallen foes' pockets, they find the following...
On Teb Knotten:
- potion of feather step;
- spear of manhunting (+1 boar spear)
- key to a lockbox
- small mirror
- 48 gp
On the atomie:
- potion of cure moderate wounds
- scroll of remove curse
- scroll of resist energy (fire)
- liquid ice x 3
- thunderstones x 2
- masterwork sickle (tiny)
- masterwork sling (tiny)
- 64 gp
The igloos are largely empty (save for some bedrolls) and one is trapped (with a false bottom falling down into a pit), but in the troll-made cave to the north the companions find a large lockbox containing:
- potions of feather step x 4
- blue quartz “ice diamonds” x 5 (from Irrisen and worth 100 gp each)
- silver diadem worth 300 gp
- a near flawless diamond worth 500 gp
- a jeweled necklace worth 400 gp
- a painting of Whitethrone worth 100 gp to an art collector
- three sapphire rings worth 75 gp each
- a decorative filigree longsword scabbard worth 125 gp
- a small scrimshaw sculpture of dancing sprites surrounding a piping satyr worth 50 gp
- 2,857 gp in coins (mostly gold and silver)
Clearly, the troll and his companions were prepared with a war chest to take over at least a small amount of land here in Taldor.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight will take time, if he has any, to search for alchemical reagents as well. When he finds the scroll on the Atomie, it looks like for a moment that he is going to burn the thing.
At the last second, Coramus comes over (as if he expected something like this), and takes the scroll out of the goblins hands. "Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, we talked about this, remember? Writing isn't evil... you know this. And just because you cannot understand it, it does not mean you have to destroy it. You know this as well."
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight hangs his head, and his only response is, "Yes, Boss."
The child helps search the camp and gladly takes a night's rest before attempting to enter the ominous portal which seems to stand, always waiting just on the edge of her periphery, its glow invading every moment with an unsettling feeling which she can only recognize as apprehension of the unknown.
In the morning, she makes sure all of her belongings are tightly secured about her, and the precious queen mother harrow card is tucked safely in her pack, then exhales a weighty sigh. The youth takes slow, heavy steps toward the portal, her feet pressing into the snow and straining for purchase against the mysterious singularity spewing forth a frozen hurricane. Each step closer seems to bring a tenfold increase in the breadth of wind surging against her, and any section of her heavy winter clothing which is not tightly secured beneath the various backpack straps, weapon sheaths, and equipment pouches flutters out behind her like streamers in the colossal breeze. Aoife's massive gauntlet-clad hands press outward against the wind, attempting in vain to shelter her face and blot out the unnatural, raging wind and sickening glow of the portal.
I hope I find you on the other side, she thinks, trying, and failing, to catch one final glimpse of her guardian, as she digs both arms into the drifts at her feet for added traction. Unsure if her feet can carry her far enough against the maelstrom of snow and ice, radiating outward in a blast of wintery death, the child grinds her teeth together and pushes forward one last time until the pulsing light has engulfed her bodily.
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As the sun sets, he looks over at his new companions. It isn't really correct to call them new anymore. He had shared too much. They knew too much.
Always running. He had always been running. Since his youth, he ran from tormentors. In the wild, he ran from danger. In adulthood, he avoided those that sought to cause him harm. He knew when the battle lust took over, there was only death or victory. He ran from the knowledge that he was trapped more thoroughly than a bear in a cage.
The snow fell gently from the sky. He sat huddled in his furs, staring at the Portal. What lay behind it? What would he find? Would the challenge be more than he could shoulder, or would he rise to the occasion?
He sensed movement. Was it on this side, or on the other? Slowly rising to his feet, beating the pins and needles from his legs, he slowly walked forward. He scanned the path for signs of new tracks, but he found none. He looked about him, spinning on a 360. Scanning the horizon, nothing. No movement, no sounds. Just the falling snow. Gently melting wherever it landed on him.
He slowly crept closer to the Portal, easing Frostreaver off the strap, he held it in front of him, ready to swing at a moment's notice.
Just before the Portal, he stopped. Scanning left and right, nothing. He closed his eyes, trying to be one with the world around him. He could sense something. Was it on this side of the Portal or the other.
A sudden wave of vertigo overtook him. Falling to the ground he dropped his hammer, and splayed both hands to arrest his fall.
He was standing in a land not unlike the one he was standing in before, yet it was somehow different. Without remembering his journey, he knew that he stood on the other side of the portal.
He remembered falling, and trying to stop his fall, then immediately he was here, standing, holding Frostreaver.
He still felt a presence, this time more intense. For some unknown reason, his feet began to move down the path. The snow was still gently falling and melting when it hit him.
Glancing up he saw the edge of a pine forest, and a humanoid shape standing in the failing light.
Even with his super sensitive eyes, he could not make out the humaniod's face. He approached the stranger, Frostreaver in a non-threatening position.
"Hail stranger. Who are you?" he shouted.
Loud laughter could be heard coming from the stranger.
"Who am I? Yet I know you Jorvik the Bloodspeaker. Holding a hammer called Frostreaver. I have known you since you suckled on your mother’s breast. Since the boys and girls chased you through the palace hall hurling names like stones. I have seen you run through the woods, crying like a woman who has lost her first child. I have seen your knees knock as you hunt with the Mammoth Lords. I have seen you with your child warrior, you goblin aberration, your elder human, your stone man, and your witch friend. I have seen you fail to defend the defenseless, and rely on their puny powers to save your life.
Come no closer until you can answer my simple question, are you an elf?"
Listening to the man, and male it must be, talk to him in evlen, his blood ran colder than those winter nights spent in the woods.
"Yes I am an elf. A Snowcaster Elf, born and breed."
More laughter, this time louder, could be heard from the stranger.
"No elf are you, and no Snowcaster Elf shall you ever claim to be. Pointed ears you may have, lover life may be granted to you, but no elf are you. So are you human?"
His stomach dropping, the tears welling behind his eyes, he listened as the man changed to Skald for the last question.
Summoning his courage, Jorvik replied in Elven. ”No, I am an elf. A Snowcaster Elf, born and breed."
More laughter. Mocking laughter. Heart piercing laughter. ”No elf are you, and no Snowcaster Elf shall you ever claim to be.”
The stranger turned and ran into the forest, immediately disappearing into the shadows.
Jorvik sprinted after him, running as fast as he ever has. Dodging branches that whipped at his face, avoiding icy patches that threatened to turn an ankle or worse, break a leg, Jorvik called for all he was worth, over and over again.
Laughter filled his ears. From what direction he could not tell, yet he heard the laughter as clear as if the stranger was laughing straight into his ear. Jorvik pulled to a halt in a clearing. Turning around, scanning the ground, the air, the trees. Nothing.
Out of nowhere, a falcon, snow white and wings folded back, came diving from the sky right at his face. Summoning all his strength, Jorvik dove to the side just as the falcon shrieked past him, raking his side with its razor sharp talons before streaking towards the sky, landing on a branch, staring at him.
Jorvik pushed to his feet, covered in snow, bleeding from his side. His eyes never left the falcon. Again the voice, ”What are you Jorvik? Elf? Man? Neither? Both?”
The falcon, still as a statue, stared at Jorvik.
”I am Jorvik the Bloodspeaker. No more. No less. I live today, and fight, and sing. Tomorrow I may die. All I know is that the tales I will tell, the deeds I will accomplish, all will know my name. All will know that a great warrior I was. Will they say I am a Snowcaster elf? Mayhaps? A Jadwiga? Who cares. All one must know is that I am Jorvik, and I will not rest until know me.”
Laugher again. This time low and slow as if a belly rumble. ”So be it, Jorvik the Bloodspeaker. Though few know your name, some already do, and always have. Here is a gift. One to aid you in your quest. Do not fail, Jorvik the Bloodspeaker. For Heafoc will not follow one who fails.”
With that, the Falcon once again dove. This time Jorvik stood his ground. The Falcon, diving at an incomprehensible speed, pulled out at the last second and let drop something from its scimitar shaped beak.
Looking down, Jorvik sees a beautiful doeskin glove. Placing the glove on his hand, holding it up, he cries, ” Heafoc, to ”
The falcon turned completely around and spend towards Jorvik, this time landing upon the glove. Attached to the glove was a wound leather cord and a gilded hood. Jorvik placed the hood on Heafoc’s head, and backtracked through the forest. He continually looked to and fro, but saw neither the stranger or any other living thing.
He made his way to the Portal, and stepped through to the other side.
The next thing he knew, Ishabaad was shaking him awake.
”Come it is morning. Time to go through.”
Shaking the sleep from his eyes, he looked up at the imposing Oread. ”Go through. I went through last night.”
”Honestly Jorvik. If that is a joke I do not know why it is funny. If you are lying, I do not know why.”
”No really, I went through.” Looking down, both men spy the small pool of blood, and Jorvik pulled his tunic out of the falcon scratch. Rolling over, they both see the supple leather glove on his right arm.
”What is this? When did you get this?”
”Through the portal. Come see what gift I have been given.”
Striding out the make shift tent, seeing all his new companions assembled, he whistled long and loud. Raising his arm, Heafoc streaked from the sky and landed on his arm, glaring at those around him before looking away, majestic in his downy white feathers.
”Come friends. There is a tale to tell, and not all will stand in our way as we close these portals.” A large smile spreading across his face, Jorvik strides boldly towards the Portal.
As each of the companions approaches the portal, their faces are blasted by incredible cold. Even Kurgain cannot help but shiver as the source of cold, enough to envelop all of Taldor, blasts forth from the swirling vortex. While the sun had been in the sky for at least an hour before they left, the companions all note that it becomes suddenly darker. The endless clouds in the sky are only just now beginning to glow in anticipation of sunrise.
This is taken in over the course of moments, but soon the powerful cold settles in, much colder than in the Border Wood. The hillside the party are on is covered in snow, and snow flakes fall slowly through the air. The ever-colder companions' survival instinct kicks in and they begin to look for shelter. Luckily, the lights of a distant village are visible through the gloom. It is some miles off, but close enough to make before the cold can kill them... they hope.
Jorvik and Kuragin are able to inform the others that this must be the village of Waldsby.
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Ishbaad stand before the portal with the winds swirling around him.
long have the winds and snows tried to move the mountain. Long has the mountain stood. The mountain does not move for the wind, the wind moves around it.
Unimpeded by the blinding snow from the open conduit, Ishbaad steps forward. He sees the form of Aoife turn back just as the whiteout blots her from view.
I am here. I will always be here.
He steps forward again, pushing towards the pillar of strange light until he finds himself blinking his eyes, staring at a sleepy village off in the distance, with four new friends at his side, and a girl with far more determination than a witch queen could imagine.
Edit: Ishbaad takes his first steps in this foreign land towards the village, not bothering to look back. He knows in his heart he will never return to what he used to call home.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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After averting disaster with Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and summoning a badger to help with digging the grave of the Rider, Coramus stands at the brink of oblivion, his beard whipping in the wind, his steely eyes straight forward. He had given his word, yet he stood there, frightened beyond all belief. Almost four decades of running had his subconscious screaming at him to back away. Just pack his things, bid his companions farewell, and head farther south.
He almost did. A shuffled half step back was taken, a whimpered gasp escaping his lips as he fought panic. He remembered. He remembered those women ripping the life energy out of that child, fueling their own youth. He would be returning to the land of the Winter Witches and their fell magics, possibly to end up as the meal for some creature, either physically or spiritually. The wizard swallowed hard, shaking his head. He gathered his courage and before he could have more second thoughts, he launched himself through the gates!
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He hit the ground on the other side, landing flat on his face. Getting up, he turned a bright shade of red, brushing off the snow from his garments. "Apparently they put a f#+~ing tree limb or something in front of the gate. What a joker that guy was, eh?"
Helping the old man to his feet, Jorvik brushes some snow from his back. "Keep your wits about you. We must be in Waldsby. Few friends will we meet."
With a swift motion, Jorvik removes Heafoc's hood. The falcon takes flight circling hign in the air. The companions pause for a moment to watch the majestic bird take flight.
"Skreeeee" The Falcon's piercing cry can be heard as it circles overhead.
The wizard nods to Jorvik, accepting his helping hand up. Looking about, he was a bit disconcerted, coming to grips with the fact that he must have traveled hundreds of leagues in a mere instant.
Coramus claps Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight on the back, his expression amused by serious at the same time. "There will be no going back, I'm afraid. Hopefully we'll find plenty of use for your talents going forward, my friend. In a land of winter and ice, a goblin fire-thrower is ever a wanted ally!" He gives the goblin another friendly clap before turning to the others.
"I suppose we should start making our way towards this village, then, and see what we might."
The child looks up as the shrill call of the falcon cuts through the winter silence, it's strange screech sounds otherworldly as the youth looks out upon a vista completely replaced and unfamiliar. "Why won't we find friends in Waldsby?" she asks, shivering with unease at the hawk beautiful yet haunting cry. Aoife turns to face Jorvik, and stares at the man while adjusting her heavy furs as she starts moving with the others toward the distant village. "What do we expect to find?"
With little other option, the rapidly cooling adventurers set off down the hillside for the town they presume to be Waldsby. It isn't long before the snow drifts become thigh-high and almost chest high for Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and Aoife. The going is slow, and the winter furs are proving inadequate to the task of keeping everyone properly warm.
Not long after setting off, the sounds of a struggle can be heard from just over a ridge. As they rush to see what is going on, the companions see a gigantic insect of some kind savaging a man in furs. A group of five travelers with dogsleds laden with wrapped bundles seems to have been ambushed by this strange creature. Kuragin recognizes it as a giant mantis and most definitely not native to these cold, wintry parts.
Clutched in the things mandibles is a hapless man who is either dead or unconscious. His friends are trying vainly to drive the beast away with what appear to be ski poles, but they are having little effect on the enormous creature. One of the travelers, a red-headed woman, appears to be struggling to keep the dogs from fleeing with their supplies.
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Seeing the people in distress, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight does what he does best... raising havoc! He immediately chucks a bomb at the insect, using his newly learned discovery of precise bombs to exclude up to five squares with humans in them.
"Me be here to save the DAAAAYYYYYYY!!!! Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is on the WAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"
Ishbaad doesn't hesitate when he sees the locals in trouble, struggling against the gigantic insect. He breaks down the other side of the rise, plowing his legs through the thick snow. He pulls the new magical boar spear out as he moves, thrusting it towards the body of the creature as he closes.
for
"That's a... creature of the warm lands. It.. doesn't belong here" Kuragin stutters in amazement. Despite everything, this land is the Jadwiga's homeland. And this overgrown insect is invading his home. He trusts his allies to cut down the mantis, but in order to protect them from harm he calls for the weavers of fate and hexes the creature with misfortune.
Between the two of them, Kuragin and Ice Melts Quietly are able to inform the party of the following relevant facts about the giant mantis:
- This one is a particularly mean and aggressive variety
- They have darkvision.
- As insects, they possess very little in the way of intelligence and are, as such, immune to mind-affecting effects.
- A mantis has 10ft reach (unusually for a large quadruped), and can lunge for an extra 10ft (for a single attack as a full attack action) with an extra +4 to hit.
- A mantis can bite a creature it makes a successful grab attack (with either of its claws) against.
The waves of ill fortune wash over the mantis, but it seems undeterred. Similarly, Ishbaad's boar spear scrapes across its armor and it is not worried. However, when Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight scorches it with the strangely specific fire it lets out a high pitched shriek. Immediately, the creature drops the man it was carrying and lashes out at the goblin.
Unfortunately, it over reaches due avoiding the boar spear and instead takes out a chunk of snow and rock.
The villagers look worriedly at one another, but with the heroes stepping in, they gladly step back out of the fight. One bravely grabs the unmoving man that the mantis dropped while the others help the woman with the dog sleds.
Ishbaad resets his feet, reminding himself of what he is constantly coaching Aoife on, and lunges again with the magical spear.
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The threads of fate work both ways. While Kuragin is very disappointed in his hex's failure, he can still turn around his hexes and give the benefit of good fortune to Aoife.
The youth sees the carnage unfolding and springs forward as her eyes catch a fleeting blur of motion from the direction of Kuragin. As her legs trudge through the snow, she draws her colossal blade while her eyes narrow on the creature ahead. She cannot place the feeling, but Aoife knows she is lighter, more graceful, and more accurate in this moment, and the source seems to be coming from some unintelligible words reaching her ears that were muttered by Kuragin.
As she reaches the towering creature, quickly being surrounded by her friends, the youth pulls back on her blade and swings with all her strength.
If it still lives:
Lifting the hood, Heafoc takes to the sky. The Falcon gains some height, then screams down towards the insect.
On a successful hit:
Distract
The animal companion flutters wildly around any enemy it would normally attack with the attack trick. It makes an attack roll against that enemy. On a hit, the enemy is shaken for 1 round
Jorvik closes the gap and swings Frostreaver.
Ishbaad misses the mantis again with his new spear - clearly not used to using it - while Kuragin tries a positive influence. Aoife uses her newfound luck to stunning effect, carving a massive slice out of the Mantis's carapace. Heafoc dives down and distracts the mantis, but not enough to allow his master to hit the thing.
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight lobs a flaming projectile at the mantis and it howls in pain once more. Coramus, meanwhile helps the traveller drag the bug's first victim (who is indeed alive) to safety.
Once again, the mantis lashes out at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, wanting nothing more than for the burning to end.
It adds insectoid fecal matter to Ishbaad's already sh*t stained bed.