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"Would you like to hear of Milani's life before her elevation to sainthood?"
Oh, please! But. Me go get Aoife first. She love story time!"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight runs to where Aoife is moping and drags her physically over to Solveig. "Boss Solveig gonna tell story about Milani before she was Saint. Maybe we both learn and love Milani.... Solveig say she much nicer than Zarongel. "
Once there, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight plops down and listens with a reverent ear, not interrupting too much with questions.
"My lady, you have given us much to consider, and much to talk about. I know not what the little one has just read, but I know that it is a distraction that will take time to heal, mayhaps time we do not have." Listening to the harsh words he has spoken, he looks upon the crying girl embraced a few feet off the floor by the large oread.
"This quest we are on sometimes has the ability to cloud one's judgement. The true purpose, so that children like Aofie have a chance, is why we do this, and retribution for children lost at the hands of Nazhena Vasilliovna. For her, it is much more personal."
Looking at the stunted candle burning in the corner, Jorvik gives a weary sigh. "Solveig, as my companions mentioned earlier, we made contact with some winter wolves while entering through the Howlings. They asked us to meet with them at midnight tonight. Ringeirr thinks it folly, but they could prove to be valuable allies. What think you?"
Ishbaad chortles at the mention of the baroness looking for them.
"We are indeed the six, or five of the original six, as it were." he offers.
"As long as the baroness is looking for us, our quest will be more difficult. Having the baroness on one side and the winter guard on the other, we may need to find a way to even the odds a bit."
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"This quest we are on sometimes has the ability to cloud one's judgement. The true purpose, so that children like Aofie have a chance, is why we do this, and retribution for children lost at the hands of Nazhena Vasilliovna. For her, it is much more personal."
"For the children? FOR the children? What about this child?!" she gestures to Aoife while glaring at Jorvik and Ishbaad, "Children should be spared the horrors of war, not exposed to them gradually like you are doing with Aoife. It is abhorrent to me that she is being allowed to fight - regardless of her desires or competence. She is so young and has a sword strapped to her back! Children should be brought up to have love in their hearts, not to have their hearts hardened. The things she's seen... she should flee in horror and not hunger for more. What has happened to her father... it is a tragedy. But you should not be piling on with more."
Solveig breaks down and collapses to the floor, sobbing and frustrated beyond consolation. "I am sorry," she whispers, looking to the statue of Milani at the altar, "I know you bade me do this, told me to help them... but she is so young... your teachings."
Tears stream down her face as she turns to the companions. "I am sorry," she says again, louder this time and addressing them, "That was unbecoming of me. But it does not make it any less true."
Solveig sobers and after some time, addresses Jorvik's question. "Winter wolves would be powerful allies indeed," she agrees, "But they are both proud and unpredictable. Many would be loyal to the queen, and the words of humans - Jadwiga or no - are not likely to sway them. They will need to be convinced by one of their own."
"We are indeed the six, or five of the original six, as it were." he offers.
Solveig is lucky she isn't drinking anything at the time. "Are you serious?" she asks in disbelief, "Oh, that is incredible! Well, you are lucky only the five of you came in. I would suggest further that you not travel together unless you must while conducting yourselves about the city."
"...Me go get Aoife first. She love story time!"
Solveig gathers whoever will listen at the foot of the shrine and, with the statue of the stoic Milani standing over her, she begins her tale.
"Almost one thousand years ago, Milani was born a half-elf to an elven mother," Solveig begins reverently and in a practiced manner, "Unlike many half-elves, she was raised not by humans but by elves. The Forlorn elven community she was a part of taught that the elves would one day return to Golarion and restore true civilization to the world.
"When the demon, Treerazer, laid waste to the forests and communities of Kyonin, Milani realized that the elves were not returning - not in time to do anything about the demon anyway. Waiting was simply something that only the long-lived elves could afford to do. She took up arms against the demon's hordes and fought long and bloody battles against him. This was a turning point for her, as she embraced her human side for the first time - the humans' zest for life and willingness to sacrifice themselves to achieve great things in their relatively small lifespans, for the sake of the generations to come.
"That was when Aroden - God of Humanity - paid attention to her valiant effort, and infused her with a portion of his power and bade Milani protect human settlements in uncivilized lands. As a mortal, Milani did just that - making a name for herself throughout the Inner Sea."
Solveig goes on to tell of the many famous battles fought by Aroden's champion, right up until the end, "After a century of battle, age had caught up with her. Her shining silver hair had turned iron grey and her limbs were weakened. Even the power of Aroden could not keep her strong and vital forever. She saved a hundred peasant virgins from brutal sacrifice at the hands of a group of vile diabolists. Only when she crushed the skull of the cult's leader with her morningstar did she allow her wounds to overcome her. As her heart stopped, so did Aroden restore her youth and raise her to sainthood, where she stood by his side for millennia - crafting visions to send to mortals, inspiring them to greatness."
Solveig continues to sit cross-legged in silence, waiting to hear any thoughts her audience might have.
Ishbaad has heard it so many times before, he barely registers the priestess' complaints and objections to Aoife's participation in their battles. Seeing the woman break down from it, he decides to offer something this time.
"I sympathize with you, and under normal circumstances would agree with you that children should be spared the horrors of war and death. But Aoife is not a normal child, and this is not a normal circumstance. What you don't know about her is that Aoife would have traveled to search for her father whether someone went with her or not. She has never really needed protection from the physical dangers around her, but I offer what I can. I would protect her from these wounds to her heart, but alas in that, I am helpless. And considering what has happened to the people around her, I believe you know deep in your heart that these wounds were inevitable."
Ishbaad pauses for a moment, trying to gauge the woman's reaction, hoping she is at least understanding what he is trying to say. Accepting it is an entirely different matter, however.
"You see, the gauntlets that belonged to her father, the journal that held his deepest thoughts, they would have reached Aoife eventually. His gauntlets made it all the way to Heldren in Taldan. No my lady, there was nothing that would have stopped Aoife Limerick from searching for her father and finding whatever truth there was to find. And now, in her grief for the innocence she doesn't even realize she has lost, she will lay waste to those that have caused this pain to her."
Ishbaad stops finally, realizing he has said far more than he intended. He looks over to the young girl, saddened at the sight of the broken girl.
"That justified retribution might just be the only thing left that can save her spirit from being completely broken." Ishbaad takes a deep breath. "But you live in the north, in the belly of tyranny and opression. This cannot be the most atrocious thing you have ever seen? Just because most children cannot use a sword doesn't mean they cannot still die by them, I know you know this well. Anyone who thinks Aoife Limerick will die easily by the sword will soon find themselves in the boneyard wondering what the hell just happened."
The giant Oread shakes his head. "On to more pressing matters. Thank you for the insight on our travels as well. No full groups when traveling, though we are still only five. We should look to our preparations, and whatever magical and mundane items we can purchase while we develop a plan for what to do next."
"As for the winter wolves, we may have the ear of one of their number. I am hesitant to reveal to much about us, and so will not take any risk in doing so unless we are all agreed on that risk. Perhaps we need to meet with that wolf before the meeting, and let her speak for us in that meeting. I'm not entirely convinced showing up at the meeting is the best idea yet. Again, risks that must be mutually agreed on."
Ishbaad hopes this last admission puts to rest his penance and apologies for the risks he brought upon the group earlier from his choices.
Ishbaad flips through his tattered holy text, pondering the story of Milani and reconciling it with his goddess, the herald of Aroden. He keeps quiet for now, letting Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight take the lead, pleased at his interest in such an unusual deity for him. Secretly, he hopes Aoife is inspired by the lessons as well.
... "But you live in the north, in the belly of tyranny and opression. This cannot be the most atrocious thing you have ever seen?" ...
"Not by a long way," Solveig admits, "But you are not a White Witch. Do not acquit yourself by their actions. A child born in Irrisen has a bleak future, and I seek to brighten every one of them if I can. A child born in Taldor has a much brighter future. Should you not be doing all you can ensure the darkness does not creep in? Isn't it more of a tragedy to lose what you once had than to not gain that which you never did?
"But let us not get too philosophical," Solveig holds up a hand to forestall any answers to her questions, "Milani has directed me to give you aid and I intend to do so. Unlike most gods, she has a small enough following that she can answer most of her clergy's prayers personally, rather than using a celestial servitor. I have no doubt that the voice I heard in my visions was Hers, and Hers alone. Perhaps allowing this child to fight is a test of my resolve... of my knowledge of her teachings. Regardless, you have the mantle of the Black Rider upon you now. There is no turning back until Baba Yaga is returned.
"You do yourself credit in keeping her from harm, Ishbaad," the priestess adds, but with a grim set still to her face, "I pray that you are successful, and that when this is all over she can be a child again."
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Ishbaad turns once more to his friend's journal, hoping to find anything that can help them... or something that might comfort Aoife. He finds the last three entries and reads.
We have been in Whitethrone almost a week now. Curse this place! The horrors I have witnessed here are legion. We have explored a number of different avenues from within our secret base at the shrine and made several more contacts with the Heralds of Summer's Return. They, in turn, have referred us to information mongers and other sub-legal individuals within the city.
The wizard we travel with, Dunwell, and the contacts we have made are sure that the Winter Portal is a result of ritual magic, and that the source of the ritual must be nearby. If we are to close it, we will need to undo the ritual. Dunwell feels he will be able to destroy the portal if given enough time to study the ritual chamber used to summon it in person. This chamber must be within the Royal Palace.
Our best hope of getting in there and surviving lies with the Iron Guard. They are disgruntled and seem to oppose Queen Elvanna's plans, whatever they are. If we can somehow pit them against Elvanna's White Guard, then we can use the distraction to sneak into the Royal Palace, find the chamber and end the Portal before we are discovered. Escaping will be hard, but we can manage it. We have been in worse scrapes.
---
Ye gods have mercy on us all. Queen Elvanna has captured the Dancing Hut of Baba Yaga and shackled it within the Market Square.
We met with a sergeant of the former Iron Guard this morning. He is fearful that the Winter Guard are too powerful. As if the trolls and winter fey weren't bad enough, they are apparently led by a white dragon by the name of Logrivich.
He says, though, that the shackling of the Hut was the last straw for many of the men. Even those who were on the fence about Elvanna's actions now openly speak of the illegality of her rule. If we can somehow take out Logrivich, he says that will be enough to convince his comrades to make a stand against the Winter Guard and attempt to depose Elvanna. I am not sure they have the numbers to succeed... but all we need is a distraction.
First, though, we must kill Logrivich. Kill a dragon. In the capital of Irrisen. Sure. Why not? We go tomorrow to scout out the Watchtower that the wyrm occupies. Should it come to that, Erastil, may you guide my arrows to fly straight for Logrivich's heart.
---
The most amazing thing has happened. A forest has sprung up overnight surrounding the Dancing Hut. The White Guard are out in force to hack at it, burn it and restore the Market Square to what it once was. They are discovering creatures of the First World within who attack any who try... and then run rampant through the city.
Their hands are full. This is the distraction that we need. The Iron Guard and Logrivich be damned. We are going for the palace. Today.
Aoife, I love you. If I survive this, I am going to find your mother and I am going to get you some answers at last... one way or another.
* * *
Only blank pages follow these last entries.
While listening to the story, Jorvik finds that his attention is completely consumed by the event that unfold.
Half-elven; Died in battle against great evil; fought along side humans.
'Hmmm. That story gives me much to ponder. I may have questions for you in the coming days.
"Friends, there is much here to digest. The most pressing matter is we must decide if we are to meet the Winter Wolves. It seems that without the pelt we are less likely to be able to persuade them. What say you?"
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The child remains silent as much of the conversation seems directed her way, with the occasional arm gesture or look falling upon her. To Aoife, the other seem so passionate about their opinions regarding her, her safety, and, troubling most, her rapidly ending childhood. After they have said their part, she steps forward and clears her throat.
"Thank you, Mrs. Solveig," the child says, steps nearer to the woman. "Thank you for your kind words, and thinking of me. I don't want you to feel bad that I have come so far. I don't want you to feel bad for what I have seen."
"I don't want you to feel bad for me at all..."
"I miss my father, I probably always will. But I have to believe his gauntlets found their way to me for a reason. If I hadn't come on his journey, I wouldn't even know father had died. I wouldn't have made these friends, who are now the only family I have. I wouldn't have been able to help the people of Waldsby free themselves from the evil rule of the Pale Tower," she tries to explain but cannot seem to find her way to a point. "I have my father's gauntlets now, and am taking up what he started. I don't care about fate, or prophecy, or pledges to black rider's nearly so much as doing right by the only father I'll ever have."
"You speak of Milani... embracing her human side... a zest for life and a willingness to sacrifice herself to achieve great things with what short lifespan she was given, all for the sake of the generations to come," she explains. "I am not special, but I was given these-" she opens her backpack and wrestles to pull free the enormous, leather gloves.
"So that I can follow in my father's footsteps and avenge him. So I can I can be the strength for other children of the north, like Thora, that have no power themselves."
"Please do not feel bad for me," she pleads. "I am just trying to do the best with the short time that is given to me..."
"You are right Jorvik. Without the pelt, we likely have no chance of convincing them to help us." He pauses again, suddenly realizing that he does that a lot.
"Unless we get Greta to speak for us." Ishbaad offers no more, waiting for the others to offer their opinion on this potential option.
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The child speaks up with a volume of words that she had not used since learning of her father's death.
Ishbaad is silenced, having heard her convey what only she could.
I am proud of you, Aoife. he says with his smile, and a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Tears pour freely down Solveig's face as Aoife speaks.
"You are wise child," she says, her voice cracking, "Well beyond your years. While that worries me, you still miss things and that gives me hope for your innocence. For instance, it is not true that Tighearnán will be the only father you will ever have. You have another father, and I suspect he has been as such for you for longer than your biological one has been away on the doomed quest of his."
Solveig looks meaningfully at the placement of Ishbaad's hand. "Milani herself had a father not of her blood, an elven father. While she disagreed with his ideals, he raised her and was more of a father to her than the human who gave Milani her greatest and most valued asset of all: her humanity. Her elven father did more for her: he was there for her, and he did his best."
The priestess lights a candle, places it on the altar and then excuses herself - making for the kitchen. The scent of Winteryew stew is not an encouraging one.
The companions are surprised when Ringeirr interrupts their reading and storytelling to inform them, "It is late. We should think about getting some sleep. There's a big day tomorrow. Unless, of course, you still want to carry through with that foolishness with the Winter Wolves tonight."
"I would really like to avoid the winter wolves, I find them revolting. Besides, our last interaction with them almost resulted in our deaths."
Especially my own. And I'm very attached to my life. Even with this suicidical mission...
Kuragin avoids looking at Ishbaad, knowing the oread has his own agenda for meddling the wolves - which the Jadwiga quite wholeheartedly disapproves. But besides the winter wolves, there might be other allies. And these would be much better company, too.
"The stilyagi we met earlier felt unhappy of the way things are now. We could talk them into helping our cause as well. I do not know exactly how many stilyagi run in Turosky's group, but they could provide a vast network of contacts. And being Jadwiga, they can freely move around the city."
Rubbing already blood-shot eyes, Jorvik addresses his companions. "Too much. It has all been too much. For me at least." He looks to the Aofie in the corner, tears steaming down her face, and Ishbaad doing what he can to stem the flow.
"Ringeirr, we are indebted to you and to all the Heralds of Summer's return. Hopefully we can repay you with success by returning this land to its proper order. I pray that the Ulfen people will be better off. What of you? Will you stay? If not, how will we contact you? If any of your order are martial minded and wouldn't mind swinging axe or hammer when the time comes, let us know.
"Solveig, your hospitality is much appreciated, as are your stories and willing to help us enchant some items for our quest. I look forward to hearing more; when the time is right. Know your words have stirred even my cold heart.
"Friends, there is much and more to discuss. Before we retire, can we all agree that meeting the winter wolves tonight would be folly?" Jorvik allows all he has said to sink in listening for comments from his companions.
"It appears that we need to, first and foremost, find contacts that are like-minded. And it appears that only Kuragin and I can move freely. So unless Kuragin does not need his beauty rest, I will take Ishbaad and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and hawk our wares in Market Square. You will be a good goblin, right? The we will come back here to keep the monies safe.
"Kuragin and I will head out to meet with Pavel Turosky and see if he can help us. Maybe the three of you can start working on some gear?
"After Kuragin and I return, we should split up once again. Kuragin can take Ishbaad and Aofie and see if we can find out any information about Dunwell. It is possible that there is still some resistance.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, you will accompany me. Friends, well we have been together a long time now. And I am not holding back, but you see the memories of my youth I had believed were just that. Memories. Now it seems that they are clues to aid us in our quest.
"As a youth, and a noble youth at that, I was conscripted and served my time with the Iron Guard. There I befriended a distant relative. Пётр. Or Pyotr in common. Though many of you now 'know' Skald." at this Jorvik chuckles at the though of their accents.
"He, like me, is of Jadwiga Harcartha. He will still loyal to Baba Yaga, if he lives. He also will be Iron Guard. Of that there is not doubt. You will find him imposing and unforgiving. A perfect ally for our quest. Any who wish can travel with me to the Ironside District to see what we can find at the Iron Barracks. What say you?"
Ishbaad nods in agreement with Jorvik. They had indeed covered much, and it was time to step back and organize their thoughts.
"If you have a connection to the Iron Guard, then we are far better off already than I had thought. I have something to share with you..."
Ishbaad pulls out Aoife's father's journal and reads to them the details of their plan and assault on the palace. Ishbaad makes a point to leave out his personal writings refering to Aoife. The girl has endured enough this evening. Those details can wait for another time.
"My suggestion is that you find a way to strike the same bargain that Aoife's father had with the Iron Guard. If they can occupy the winter guard and allow us into the forest at least, then we can unshackle the hut. If we must kill Logrivich to seal that bargain, then we will prepare accordingly when we go shopping."
"Yes, meeting with the wolves tonight is folly. However, I can meet with Greta, and discretely state our case. If I cannot get her to speak for us, then we should not count on the wolves as allies. However if I can, then we will have secured two powerful forces loyal to Baba Yaga."
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, you also have the potential to secure allies for us in your kin. Though we shouldn't go without Kuragin or Jorvik anywhere, I would volunteer to stand by your side should you wish to create contacts to help us when the time comes."
"Those are my only additions to Jorvik's thoughts. In short, they are wise and I agree. When we are done here, I will see to our potential alliance with the winter wolves."
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Upon hearing the others and their plan to proceed, Aoife cannot help but imagine her father, stoic and powerful, pacing the same room concocting a strategy. She remembered that he always walked when thinking deeply, usually murmuring to himself small snippets of the volumes of thought racing through his mind. As she thought about him, standing before her, planning just as she and her companions were doing, she also could not make herself forget that even for all his planning her father had perished.
"I hope you can convince Greta to speak to winter wolves on our behalf," Aoife says abruptly, turning to look at Ishbaad. Her face is calm and emotionless, but her mind is racing at the thought that this step was something her father had not pursued. Perhaps, she hoped, this extra step would give them the edge that her father did not have.
If Greta will not help us, the child thinks to herself. Then I will sneak off to their Last Howl to plead our case... Aoife does not voice this thought aloud, knowing the others, especially her guardian, would probably try to stop her.
A short while later, the child wanders away from the others, looking for a window to the outside world that she might peer out onto the city of Whitethrone. Aoife had travelled so long to reach this place, that shutting herself within a bathhouse and not at least looking upon the surrounding city seemed a crime. There was also the small fact that she did not feel like talking much to the others. She knew there was not anger or frustration toward her dear friends, but she felt like cutting herself off would save them the trouble of dealing with her in such a dreadful state.
When at last Aoife could find a small window, she lifted the Queen Mother before her eyes. Since her time in the north, she was starting to understand more of the strange yet mystical language that her precious Jorvik and imposing Kuragin spoke so eloquently, and she hoped that this understanding might help with one more task. Holding the Queen Mother harrow card up to the diffused light pouring through the frosted glass, the child looked upon the odd symbols inked onto the back of the thick paper. When Madame Enfer had read their fortune, Aoife was sure this writing was not upon the card. After the child had crept along and stolen the card away, the unfamiliar script had been already penned, but to what purpose Aoife did not know.
What the script meant was entirely unknown, but she knew it had to be important in some way, and when the time was right, she would learn the words and secret meaning.
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"Me go with you, Boss Jorvik, and me make sure we get good deal on our stuff. Then maybe you or Boss Kuragin can get ring off me. Me can only hope." Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight looks up at the big Jadwiga-elf.
"If we need help to attack hut, or at least distaction, maybe I go talk to goblins. Me should see if mum is still alive at least. Maybe me can get goblins to rise up and help...distract winter guard while we get to hut Me tell them there is great chance for great loots, they will think that is grand. Maybe we need to share some with goblins, maybe not Maybe they being oppressed by Winter Guard, too, who sound like they no know natural order of things.
"If you think that a good idea, me will do that."
He goes over and hugs Solveig. "Me happy that you good person, and that you have wonderful Milani as patron. Me will think about that a lot. Maybe Milani will take pity on poor goblin. Maybe if me be good goblin, she take nasty ring off Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's finger. Me hope she good and powerful god.
"Maybe me think about her... do you have book of Milani? Holy symbol of Milani? Maybe Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight will talk to Milani."
Ringeirr looks wistful when Jorvik asks him about his plans, "I have less pull with the Heralds than Solveig does, but I will stay and help as I can... if you want me. This mission you are on, it is the most important thing I could be doing right now. So, whatever you will have me do, I will do it.
"The Heralds are not ready for open revolt, however," he adds, "But they can and will help in small ways, I am sure."
"I can pray to Milani, if you like, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight," Solveig replies, "And maybe she will grant me the right prayer or ritual to remove that ring for you... and maybe one your companions could do so also." She looks to Kuragin, unsure if he has the power or not.
"As for a book of Milani, I do indeed," she produces one of several tomes from one of the shelves near the altar, "It is called The Light of Hope. You can read it any time you like, but please leave it here... it is very hard to come by copies in this city. I can begin copying one out for you once all of this is over, if you should like. Her holy symbol is emblazoned upon the cover."
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight sees that the holy symbol is a black rose upon a bloody street.
Solveig laughs... and then thinks that perhaps the goblin was being serious, "I would avoid any religious symbols not of Lamashtu or Zon Kuthon while within Irrisen. Even Pharasma is only barely tolerated, and then sometimes not even."
"You better listen to Solveig,Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. While we are not deeply religious people, foreign religions are not tolerated. Priests of Lamashtu or Zon Kuthon are not of forgiving sort, either"
Once Solveig mentions removing the ring, something snaps in Kuragin's head. All the time and concentration used to casting the magic from the scroll earlier starts to pay off. Suddenly the symbols and words and incantations start to make sense, and he thinks he will be able to repeat the ritual without the scroll.
"I think I can help you with your problem, goblin. I must rest, first. But come morning, I think I am able to master the magic to remove that ring."
While the sun does not set until after midnight, the icy winds blow colder the later it gets. Ishbaad is glad for his yeti-fur cloak for both its utility at disguising his appearance in these twilit streets and its seamless warmth. Having already taken note of where the guard posts were, Ishbaad makes his way solo to the Howlings where, if possible, the air seems to grow even colder. None pay too much attention to Ishbaad. None think he is a yeti, but neither would a peasant be able to afford such a magnificent magical item.
Greta greets Ishbaad at the threshold of her house in her human form, opening the door before he can knock. "Well, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," she observes, her curvaceous body no longer hidden beneath layers of mail and furs, "You'd best come inside before someone smells you and kills you. You're lucky this isn't Redtooth." That last statement, most like, is completely lost on Ishbaad.
Early in the morning, Ringeirr arrives with some rolled up papers. "Slave papers for Aoife and 'stilyagi companion' papers for Ishbaad," he explains, "With all you had planned, I figured it would be best if you could be about your business in the city separately. Mortin does an exceptional job at forgery, but it could be detected by an overly suspicious and perceptive guard. You can probably get genuine papers if your Jadwiga friends find the time."
Papers in hand, and while the Stilyagi are still abed, the adventurers make their way out into the streets to sell their veritable horde and stock up on new items. Freshly equipped, they go to the Cocoa Pot to meet 'Prince' Pavel Turosky, the putative leader of the Stilyagi.
The blonde-haired prince seems in particularly good spirits this morning, and he orders a round of hot chocolate for everyone - except Aoife, who he assumes to be a serving child. The beverage is delightfully warm and the unique blend of spices with a hint of winteryew is simply divine. The sheer distance the ingredients would have needed to travel make the word decadent wholly insufficient for describing the situation in which peasants can live in such poverty while the ruling class drink this in a dedicated café.
Ishbaad is poked and prodded, none too gently at times, and asked questions that border upon the rude and the outright ridiculous. With every query, he is reminded not only of the cruelty of Irrisens upper classes, but of the ignorance of these so called 'culture crows'. It takes all of the patience his earth elemental ancestry to keep his responses polite and trouble free.
After minutes that seem like hours, it is over.
"So..." smiles Pavel, "What a delightful curio you managed to find. You'll have to tell me some more tales of your experience in Taldor, Kuragin and Jorvik... but first, what brings you to Whitethrone? Answer me right, and I might have a little surprise for you, Kuragin!" He gives a coy smile that says he simply cannot wait to unveil his surprise, but wants the pair to work for it first.
Aoife and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight manage to escape unnoticed, but Pavel will not hear of Ishbaad leaving. He may, after all, think of some more questions to ask.
Aoife and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight make their way through the bustling streets of Whitethrone. At a glance, this might be any other city. Peddlers sell their wares and people go about their business like anywhere else. The undertone of oppression and evil are lost somewhat as peasants and Jadwiga alike go about their daily grind. A child and a goblin go completely unnoticed and unremarked by all as they head east to the clock tower now occupied by the dragon Logrivich.
The tower is situated just inside the Eastern (and main) gate to Whitethrone. The clock face at the top of the tower has been removed, presumably to allow easy access for the dragon captain of the Winter Guard. The sheer height of the structure must give Logrivich quite the view of the city, and the small scouts cannot help but feel exposed so far below, in easy sight of the makeshift opening.
A small courtyard stands outside the clock tower behind a delicate-looking white picket fence of ghastly construction: each of the delicate pickets is unmistakably a human femur. A single step leads to a landing and a recessed set of large double doors to the north, while to the east and west stand two stone statues depicting two women in identical poses, reaching skyward as if to catch snowflakes. Neatly trimmed evergreen bushes - impossibly green in such a frigid environment - surround the statues.
Ishbaad retreats into his mind, focusing on his meditation and prayers to shut out the indignity of being treated the way the Stilyaga treat him. Selfishly, he is glad that he is at least not human, especially Ulfen, though his heart breaks a little more for Aoife, and by proxy, all of the Ulfen people.
Ishbaad waits for an opportune moment and flashes Kuragin a knowing wink. No doubt that his ability to will the earth beneath his feet to move, shift and tumble would impress. He wasn’t too keen on his position, but he knew that perhaps the little trick would elevate Kuragin and Jorvik in the Stilyaga’s eyes. He would endure for the good of the group.
Ishbaad quickly steps inside the door, unable to keep the semi-permenant grin off of his face. The subterfuge, the secrecy, the risk to life and limb made it all so wildly exciting. It was no wonder the little voice in his mind telling him this was folly was so easy to ignore.
Ishbaad's heart pounds with excitement as he pulls the hood of the cloak off of his bald, stoney head. He turns back to drink in the sight of the seductive wolf-turned-human and is greeted with a rushing form, pouncing through the air, landing on him and knocking him prone. Greta leans over the oread, a telling grin on her face.
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" So that is what ‘Еще раз!’ means?” Ishbaad laughs, exhausted as the two lay half on the floor, half on the bed in the room. ”I’m not sure why anyone wouldn’t want to learn Skald as a language. The lessons are... well...” Ishbaad flashes a wry grin.
I feel confident that if Iomedae was not pleased with using my judgement of healing just to survive that lesson, then I would not have actually survived… he muses to himself as he watches the trickles of blood on his arms stop unnaturally fast.
Ishbaad lays there catching his breath for a few moments. The silence is a welcome relief to his sensibilities as his heart rate comes back down to something more normal.
Nothing like an awkward jump to something completely off topic to ruin the mood, but here we go.
After a few minutes, Ishbaad turns his head to speak. ”You said you wanted to know why I was so curious about Baba Yaga.” He pauses, waiting to make sure he has her full attention, though with that statement he has no doubt she does.
”We are very different, you and me. I would rather not ask too many questions for fear of discovering what those differences are supposed to mean, and how that might affect… us, or whatever us there could ever be beyond nights like tonight.”
Now I am stalling… And who could blame me? Dive in, Ishbaad. Just dive right in…
”My pack and I mean to unshackle Baba Yaga’s hut. The current state of Irrisen is stretching beyond the way it is supposed to be, and I intend to set it right.” Ishbaad’s head swirls with adrenaline again, though this time it is different than when he knocked on Greta’s door. There is a hint of fear now as to how she would react.
At least if he was going to die, this was a hell of a way to go.
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"My word, Pavel. This cocoa, it is sublime. How you roast the winteryew must determine how much bitterness is in it? Yes? Wait, don't tell me." The half-elf takes another sip, brown half-moon forming on his white-blonde beard, giving him the impression he is smiling with two mouths the entire time.
"Ah, best not touch him there. Every man has his own limits, slave or not, and I for one simply cannot afford to look for another oread. We love our Ishbaad but sometimes he can be a like a winter wolf in heat.
"So where were we. Ah, my story. After I left Whitethrone, you know how silly and rash you can be in your youth, I traveled much of the north. Realm of the Mammoth Lords mostly. Used all the Iron Guard training to good use. The rush and excitement of taking down such great beasts did wonders for a hot-blooded youth. Then one day what should appear at our fires, an Ulfen man and his daughter. Of course I spit on the ground and called them worthless drivel, but the daughter, just blossoming into womanhood, was a sight. Remember, I was just into manhood myself. I found myself dreaming of her, lusting after her really. I knew they only would share our fire for a few days, so I had to have her sooner rather than later.
"As much as I could, I made excuses to be by her, talk to her, smell her. But Pavel, she's Ulfen! What was I thinking?
"She came up with it really, and how could I say 'No'. A man needs after all. Woa! Be careful! A blind oread is no use to me and judging by those overcoats, you two have nary a coin to reimburse me.
"So she says, 'Come, run away with me. Take me from my father and lets start a life in the rich southlands.'
"There really was no choice there. We left when the moon was full, and camp was asleep. I can cover much ground and the others, well there are uncivilized nomads, only going where the hunting was. They could care less we left. Except for her father. Don't rightly know what happened to him.
"We traveled south, walking miles by day and filling our nights ... you don't need to hear the details - do you? Sadly, our passion melted the warmer the climate grew. We found fairly quickly that though we were attracted to each other, actually being together clothed was something different. No as much fun, right?
"So too long story short, we went our separate ways in Kenebares, on the fringe of the Worldwound. I tied to attach myself to a company of crusaders but was soundly rejected. I struck off east and found my old friend Kuragin. We were making our way back home when we acquired Ishbaad, and the others.
"So why are we here. Why really are any of us here? To roll the bones and see what fate has in store for us? Who knew that things would be so different? No Baba Yaga. Queen Elvanna saying past her time. And they call us the odd ones!"
Greta feigns surprise, "You are planning on taking on Queen Elvanna? Who could have guessed it from your previous line of reasoning."
The woman does not even bother to dress, though there is no heat source in her humble accommodations. Without his rimepelt to transform him into a winter wolf, Ishbaad is shivering. Even Greta's embrace offered little in the way of warmth. Her flesh was as cold as it was supple, even in human form.
A box of frozen meat - meat of an origin that Ishbaad does his best not to consider - sits uninsulated in the storage room, and the nude Greta pulls out a haunch and begins munching. "Sorry," she mutters between gulps, "That always makes me hungry. I'm assuming you won't partake this time... and I've no other food to offer. Besides, I think better on a full stomach."
When her meal is done - even in human form, she quickly devours what must be four pounds of flesh - Greta returns to the bed. "I will make this easy for you: we 'wolves are all about the natural order. Elvanna is disrupting the natural order. Our pact is with Baba Yaga, and so... it will not take much for one of our own to convince the others to strike.
"However!" she adds, quickly cutting off any response Ishbaad may have been formulating, "We are wolfen, and wolves are not stupid enough to prey upon those obviously stronger than us. We will need a plan, and we will need assurances of success. You have got a plan, I take it?"
"So she says, 'Come, run away with me. Take me from my father and lets start a life in the rich southlands.'"
"You ran away with an Ulfen peasant?!?" Pavel veritably yells, incredulous. He stands so suddenly that his seat is toppled over behind him - a diminutive rag-robed fey creature of some kind quickly rights it - and a hush falls over the gathering of stilyagi and their playthings, "How..." everyone inhales, "How delightfully southern of you!" The laughter that follows from the assembled Jadwiga is strained, but it breaks the tension.
"Tell me more!"
"...in Kenebares, on the fringe of the Worldwound..."
"The Worldwound?" Pavel looks a little dubious this time, "Hardly a place of high fashion! Such a strange place to go... still, thank you for telling me everything. I'll get some more details from you later on.
"Now, Kuragin," the prince's attention rapidly turns to the full-blooded Jadwiga, "I trust your journeys were more in line with our group's tastes. I see you've come back with quite the ensemble!" He insults Jorvik without seeming to mean to. To one as often slighted as Jorvik, however, the intent is unmistakably there. 'More inline'? He might as well have called Jorvik an outcast to his face.
Ishbaad chuckles at Greta's sarcasm.
Should have seen that coming.. the normally perceptive inquisitor thinks to himself.
"Yes, thank you but I will pass." Ishbaad pats the air down, pantomiming his polite refusal of the food. She is an actual winter wolf after all, despite the more visually pleasing form she is currently in.
The Oread stands up to his full height and trudges over to his magical bag, tossed carelessly in the corner of the room when he came in. He reaches in, and moments later pulls out a small vial. Flipping the cork off with his thumb, he tips the bluish liquid back. In seconds he stops his shivering, instantly (and magically) accustomed to the cold room.
Ishbaad is relieved to hear that the wolves will not be hard to convince. "Pragmatic view." Ishbaad responds to Greta's insistence that the wolves will not act without assurances of success. His tone is not judgmental in the least, but actually understanding. It makes too much sense not to be any other way, to his line of thinking.
"A plan? The goal is simple. Well.. the intention anyways. Execution, that will be different. I know where the keys to Baba Yaga's hut are, and how to get them. That is actually the easy part. We will break past the White Guard that surrounds the forest, make our way through said forest, and then unlock the shackles that bind the hut where it is at. Sounds simple enough, right?" Ishbaad lets out a laugh at the obvious absurdity of the statement.
"The Iron Guard is not happy with the current order either. My pack and I intend to curry their favor by slaying the white wyrm, Logrivich. In return, they will be able to reclaim their rightful position as the foot soldiers and guard of this city, protecting Baba Yaga's interests. I expect that will be a bloody reclamation." Ishbaad keeps his face passive this time, not sure what kind of reaction to expect from Greta at the declaration of killing the White Dragon.
"From there, we will need to wade through the forest and the fey that surround the hut. I can only assume the numerous fey that inhabit that protective ring will try to stop us, and so I expect that will be bloody as well."
Ishbaad pauses for a moment, then continues a bit quieter, a tinge of shame in his next statement. "I must admit that I do not know what to expect when we arrive at the hut. And I do not know how the Jadwiga Elvanna will react once our assault begins."
He sits down next to his temptress, and awaits her judgement.
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Walking around with his friend, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight finds himself with Aoife near the tower. His original goal was to sell some stuff, and maybe find his mother. But, as luck would have it, the two find themselves in a position of possible peril. "You wanna take a look?" he asks, hoping she would say yes. He does try and keep his friend and himself out of direct sight of the tower.
"Me think it pretty dangerous. Especially without the Longshanks with us. And me with the ring. If only me not put it on. Why me do that?"
"Oh, so all you need to do is slay a dragon and convince the Iron Guard to betray the queen?" Greta laughs long and hard before she notices the stern and serious expression on Ishbaad's face, "Holy f%$%ing s~&%, that's actually your plan?"
She strides over to the bed and stares at him long and hard. Finally, she sniffs around him. "Wow. You really believe you can do it, too. And you're not afraid. That's a dragon you're talking about! You are a fool, but a brave one." She shakes her head in disbelief and admiration.
"So... what happens after you get to the hut? You take off in search of Baba Yaga, presumably. What happens to those who provided your distraction, the ones left behind in Irrisen under the rule of Queen Elvanna... or do you think to fit all the Winter Wolves and Iron Guardsmen in the hut?"
"Don't worry, Mister Kurgain will have the ring off you very soon," the child says to the goblin stalking close by. "He has been working hard to learn how to remove that awful curse."
"He took care of me when I was sick with a curse too. He took such good care of me, you would have thought he was my mother-" Aoife stops her words abruptly and pauses for a moment forcing the brewing storm of anger and frustration to quell because of the all too recent and painful memories she had unintentionally called up at the moment.
"... Kurgain... I mean... he is like a family member and he will make you feel all better." she corrects herself. This was not the time to let her emotions run rampant was all she could think turning her gaze skyward to the imposing structure looming above them blocking much of the grey, cloud-ridden horizon.
Her head pans back and forth, looking around the nearby area before she creeps closer to the abominable picket fence. Her shoulders are hunched over, and her body kept exceedingly close to the ground and she reaches the row of bleached white femurs driven like spikes into the frozen earth.
Her eyes refocus on the black aperture where the missing clock face should have been, looking so far above and into the sky that her neck must be craned awkwardly back until it was level with the ground. Her eyes strain to see any clarity inside the opening of utter blackness, hoping to pierce the veil of darkness. As she looks upward, she feels a shudder of fear that the terrifying dragon, Logrivich, might be looking down at her at that moment, unseen and with malicious cunning.
The black aperture above reveals no secrets to the child, and so she turns to the goblin as he nears.
"I'm going to see if those double-doors are unlocked," Aoife nods across the small courtyard encircled by bones. "At least to see if there is a way up to the wyrm's perch..."
Aoife slowly makes her way up the steps. Out there in the open, however, it is very hard for her to avoid being spotted. No-one seems to take any notice, though. The double doors are not locked, nor even full closed. A crack is clearly visible closer up. Aoife gets a strange feeling, as though the tower - or something within - wants her to enter. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, who accompanies Aoife gets quite the opposite feeling - a gut instinct that he should run, run away as far as he possibly can.
Aoife peers through the crack in the door and spots a grand foyer beyond. Well-kept hardwood floors adorn the room, a show of opulence in a city built mostly of ice and stone. Aoife can see large wooden double doors to the east and west, and a single door leading north. The low rumble of some great mechanism is clearly audible in the background, accompanied by a ratcheting sound at regular intervals. The noise echoes ominously throughout the largely empty chamber.
The doors to the east seem to be open, but neither Aoife nor Ice Melts Quietly in sunlight can see through them from her current position. They would need to venture into the tower to do so.
Aoife casts a sideways glance at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, her face flat and emotionless, then leans forward and pushes open the double doors. Once inside the tower she slowly closes the portal behind herself and the goblin, but stops just short of allowing the lock to catch.
Her feet pad gently as she moves across the exquisite hardwood floor, twirling to take in the sight of the grand foyer so seemingly at contrast to the bone-courtyard only a few paces away. All around the reverberating, almost mechanical heartbeat of the structure, hums lowly and sends a faint sensation of measured, mathematically repeating vibration up through the bottom of her feet.
The child slinks across the grand foyer to the ajar eastward door, and leans to peer through the slot...
Try as he might, the curse on the ring refuses to let go of the goblin. Eventually, Kuragin must give up his attempts for the day, and try again tomorrow. At least he's learned something of the curse, and will hopefully have an edge on beating it.
"I am sorry, Ice Melts Quietly In Sunlight. You'll have to carry the ring for another day. We'll try again tomorrow."
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Again Kuragin is like another person. His speech is much more lively as he tells his tale of his brief visit to the South. One moment he whispers excitedly, and the next moment he is almost yelling and his whole body moves with his words.
"...and the green. It was so... so unbelievably green everywhere. The trees, the plants, all so green! Just like in the books. The people there were much more tan than us. And their clothing... Here, let me show you!"
Kuragin displays the local Stilyagi an assortment of memorabilia he brought with him, giving them a chance to admire the Southern wares. Then he continues the tale, not very coherent, and jumping to odd details rather than trying to stay with the story. Eventually he comes to the part where he and his unusual allies have to travel back north.
"...You see, the portals have to be closed! Otherwise the snows will conquer all the world, and all the colors will be covered by the white of a winter. This is Queen Elvanna's doing, even if I don't why. Baba Yaga must be replaced, so she can remove Elvanna from the throne. Only as is right. Hundred years for each queen, and Elvanna's time is due. And here I need your help as well. I need allies in the city, when the time comes to move to release the Queen of Witches. You said yourselves you're not happy under Elvanna's rule. Unless you want to have her on the throne for all eternity, help me on this. "
The last part, of course, is spoken in quiet whispers, hunched over the table.
The story he told was very much centered on him. Kuragin and his band of adventures. While Jorvik might not appreciate him underplaying the others, Kuragin hopes he understands. The idea of treating the others as equals would be too much to swallow, even for Stilyagi.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight has an idea... he pulls out an elixir from him pack. Not quite invisibility, which he has heard doesn't work on dragons, anyway, but will help. He nudges Aoife to remind her that she has one, too.
Quietly as a mouse, or ice melting, he sneaks through the entry of the tower, always aware. He drinks down his extract of see invisibility, as he knows that dragons are magic, and may be hiding things. 'Me needs to learn drinks to make me see and hear things better. Me not so good as me wanna be yet.'
He follows her, but puts a hand on her shoulder, suggesting that he should go first. He considers drinking either his mutagen, or his extract of cat's grace, but waits. He pokes his head through the eastern doors, carefully listening and looking for anything interesting.
Ishbaad exhales a long sigh when Greta gets to the heart of the matter.
Would I take her with me? That... That would be even crazier than... this...
"I do not know." he admits, trying to hide the shame in his voice for not having all the answers. "We have actually only been in the city for one day. Not even a full day, it was only this morning when I first came in through your gate." Ishbaad says, staring deep into Greta's icy blue eyes.
"We still have much more recon to do. Assuming that plan works, and we enter the dancing hut, I do not know what will be left behind. Queen Elvanna would still be in power, and none to happy. Though perhaps without her military force to support her, if the Iron Guard has their way."
"If we can even convince them to take their birthright back."
Ishbaad stops for a second before letting out a long, hearty laugh, tilting his head backward, mouth open and clutching his stomach. He laughs and laughs until he is nearly out of breath.
"This must be a trick of the gods. What is this world? Perhaps I am already dead, and living an upside down, bizzaro world life." Ishbaad wipes some moisture from his eyes from his bout of laughter.
"Here I am, an Oread. A holy being whose purpose is to destroy those that would rule with fear and tyranny. And yet I find myself in the bed of a woman... a winter wolf who would have sooner torn my throat out had she seen me like this when we first met, telling her my plans to restore Baba Yaga to power and overthrow her upstart daughter. If you can even call them plans, because who would dare face a white dragon like Logrivich, let alone willingly enter the dancing hut."
Ishbaad lets out another long sigh, smiling at the cold woman who has snuck around all of the defenses of his heart and faith.
"I can't give you any assurances. Yet. Maybe never. Perhaps you can just see if your kin would be willing to help when the time is right, when your aid will swing the tide in our favor and win the war. Perhaps if I bring them the head of Logrivich, they will be convinced that the plan is not impossible. And if I die, then you will not have exposed yourself to Elvanna."
"Hush!" hisses Pavel, looking around to see if any had noticed Kuragin's open and rather seditious comments, "Not in the open. Sure, we haven't enjoyed her rule - it's been very hard to conduct ourselves as we like - but you're talking about the queen here. I could have you killed on the spot for what you just said! I won't, but do not be so loose with your tongue if you don't want someone else to try."
The caution over, Pavel finds a private booth where he, Kuragin and Jorvik can chat a while. He won't allow Ishbaad in, but decides to let him stand guard. The perceptive Oread hears most of what is said, but his language lessons are not yet so complete that he understands it all - just the gist of it.
"I actually have found a friend of yours, Kuragin," Pavel says, seeming to change the topic suddenly, "I did some digging after I saw you yesterday, and know that you and Sergei were running from Ledenica from the authorities there. The warrant extended to Whitethrone, and the Iron Guard were looking for you pair, and others. Well, Elvanna replaced the Iron Guard a while back with a bunch of fey and monstrous allies -" Pavel's distaste at this situation is clearly evident, "- and the search was called of. Sergei about that on his way to... well, where, he would not say - somewhere past the Hoarwood from what I would guess. Anyway, he gave up his journey and came back here, to Whitethrone.
"I know where he is, if you'd like me to send for him?" Pavel offers. There is more to his request, but Kuragin cannot tell what it might be. If he were able to confer with Ishbaad, the oread might tell him that Pavel is most likely seeking to discover why Kuragin was on the run in the first place.
Just as Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight crosses the threshold, he hears the scraping of stone on stone from either side of the doors behind him. Years of paranoid instinct kick in and the goblin jumps back out of the doors, just in time to see the two statues flanking the doors slide back into place and become inert once more. Some experimentation reveals that Aoife can move freely within, but every time Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight sets foot inside the tower, the statues begin to animate once more.
"Well, Holy Being," the way Greta says that, Ishbaad can tell he has a new nickname for the foreseeable future, "That still doesn't answer the only question that will matter to my brethren: What do we do when you've absconded with the Hut? I'm still doubtful you even can do that, but if the Black Rider says you can... I guess, I'll have to assume it's possible."
Greta paces about like a caged tiger... no, not like a tiger, like a wolf... and adds, "The city could be ours, for a time. If the Iron Guard is with us... provided we get the support of enough of the Jadwiga to keep the fey and Irrisen's trolls in line. Think you could get, that, Holy Being?" She smirks, knowing that despite the impossibility of her request, her new mate would probably answer in the affirmative.
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The child holds up her hands from the opposite side of the threshold, motioning for Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight to remain where he is. Motioning again, she conveys that she will continue inside but that he should remain, rooted in place, but to make a commotion if he needs her to return. She also mimes that she will be ok, and that there is nothing to worry about. Finally adding, through a series of sincere by complicated gestures, that she will return if there is any signs danger at all, so it would be best for Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight to keep one of his explosive concoctions at the ready.
Even she is impressed she has conveyed so much without saying a single word.
From her pack she pulls free an elixir of hiding that she has a sneaking suspicion her guardian would insist on her taking. After replacing the empty bottle into her backpack, Aoife stalks across the floor toward the eastward door and peers through the ajar frame.
Black rider? I didn't mention that. Is she baiting me? I'll leave that one alone for now.
Ishbaad gives a playful grimace at the nickname he unintentionally gave himself.
"I do believe we can do just that." Ishbaad confirms the outlandish claims with confidence. "Tomorrow we will begin to speak with our jadwiga and Iron Guard contacts. I wish I had more information for you, but as of yet all I can give you is treasonous intentions and hopes that we can gather the right players. If we cannot slay the dragon, then we will not have the Iron Guard, I can only assume. Without the Iron Guard, the Winter guard would be to great a threat to all those who remain behind once we disappear in the hut, and you and your kin would be called to choose a side definitively."
Ishbaad pauses for a moment to let that sink in.
"So everything seems to point to Logrivich. If we can slay him, we have a chance, assuming that both the Winter Wolves and the Iron Guard reclaim the city from the Jadwiga Elvanna and the Winter Guard. If we cannot slay him, then we will be dead, and you can continue on as if you had never met me."
"I mean, no one would ever know of your intention to get involved with..."
Ishbaad can see that his correction might already be to late, his frank but harsh words unintentionally downplaying everything that has already happened between the two.
"I didn't mean it like that..."