The child looks up with contentment at the ladder rising to the flat hatch above. She feels like she has accomplished something important, scouring through the tower for her friends, and hopefully learning of a few potential risks they will have to face when moving against Logrivich. When she and her companions enter next, they will better where and when to strike, and what to plan for.
Her friends will be so proud, she cannot help thinking about their upcoming praise with with glee when she is able to sketch and explain everything she has seen.
Her father would have been proud too, she thinks and feels the warmth and contentment of only a moment prior fade away.
Turning now and descending the first few steps toward the next level below her, Aoife keeps her eyes searching the winding path ahead for anything that might be coming up the stairs to greet her.
As Aoife looks at the ladder and turns to descend, something catches her eye just on the other side of the stairwell. It appears to be a seamstress's spinning wheel. Piled up next to it are some stained and torn uniforms... uniforms for the human members of the Winter Guard, by all accounts. They seem to be stacked up here awaiting repairs.
"Wait, You just said Aoife is in there, you didn't say she was being attacked, right?" Ishbaad asks to confirm from the goblin as the group skids to a stop in front of the macabre tower.
"Let's not be hasty about this, If she is in there and sneaking around, we are only going to blow her cover, or draw attention to the fact that she is in there if we try to go barging in now." Ishbaad paces in short circles as he rationalizes through the prediciment.
"I am glad you came to get us, Ice Melt's Quietly in Sunlight, but I don't think we need to rush in and rescue her. I don't think she needs rescuing. If she did, we would certainly hear it."
I think... I hope.
Ishbaad cannot stop himself from pacing, unwilling to allow the alternative to enter his mind. As long as he keeps moving, keeps rationalizing what he hopes his happening, then he won't think about what could have possibly already happened.
After a few moments, Ishbaad stops, staring up at the tall tower. "When Aoife was about 8 years old, I took her back to one of the swamps just outside of the town's walls. Used to be Farmer Groetis' field until a river flooded about the time when Aoife was born. The rivers receeded eventually, but the water never left the field. Anyways, there were some gators that lived in the river that got transplanted in all the flooding. That swamp was a haven for them. The soldiers would go out on cock swinging dares, proving their manhood to each other by wrestling a gator and stealing one of its teeth. The only real rule was you had to leave your weapons in the barracks. No cheating.
"Aoife wanted to try. She overheard one of the boys talking about how her pops was a legend. She thought she could do it. Everyone laughed, no one took her seriously.
"So I took her out. She never flinched, never hesitated. That gator didn't stand a chance. You would be surprised what that little girl can do. But then again we have come a long ways since the southlands, maybe you wouldn't be surprised anymore.
"Let's just wait a while longer, give her a chance to do her part. She needs this. Needs to know she is important, vital to our team, and not a burden. If we rush in to try to save her now, all she will see is the exact opposite."
Ishbaad snaps out of his reflection and reverie and resumes his pacing.
"If the s%$* hits the fan though, all bets are off."
Her eyes catch sight of the piled garments nearby and she stops dead in her tracks, pausing from continuing further down the stairs. Turning her body fully to face the spinning wheel, Aoife imagines her companion's reaction to her as she waltzes, carefree from the front of the tower and opening her backpack to reveal the soldier's stolen clothing. Looking closer at the garments, each appeared a bit ratty and in need of a keen sewing hand, and maybe they would not be useful in the slightest, but she wouldn't know unless she gathered them up and let her smarter, slyer friends decide what to do.
Aoife took a moment to look down the stairs, then around at what little she could see in the room before her. Then she took a few quick breaths and crept toward the spinning wheel.
As her feet touch the level floor, a creak or moan of the structure sounds overhead even over the cacophonous patterned beat of the churning gears. The child could not help but picture some collosal beast moving about on the floor above, ready to glide down from its perch and swallow Aoife whole when she left out the front door... it did not even occur to her that the sound above might simply be the tower settling against some unfelt gust of wind.
Reaching her hand out toward the uniforms, Aoife imagines grabbing the garments and then running for her life from the tower...
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Aoife reaches out and grabs the garments. She winces, as though expecting something to happen, but nothing does. The gears grind on, for all the world like they are unaware of what the small child is doing. Aoife stuffs five uniforms of various sizes into her pack and makes to head back down the stairs. It is then that, over the sound of the gears, she hears a beautiful and haunting melody.
"I toil in here both night and day,
My hands are all but worn away.
I envy birds because they're free -
Oh, none will come to rescue me.
"I'm here, the devil's own plaything.
I'm here because he heard me sing.
I'm held in here, I have no choice -
He keeps me close to hear my voice.
And so I sing both night and day,
My voice has all but gone away.
I envy birds because they fly -
And I'm locked here until I die."
It is not until the end of the last verse that Aoife realizes the significance of song's language: it is being sung in superb, unaccented Taldane.
The realization has less than a moment to sink in before a massive thud from above grips Aoife's heart with terror. The trap door suddenly buckles as though something very heavy were suddenly dropped upon it from above. Snow flakes are blown through the seam between door and ceiling and an absolutely enormous silhouette passes above. There is a *thwop* sound, as of the dust being flicked off heavy bedsheets and then the crunching, whirring gears are once more the predominant sound in the room.
Even the sound of the singing has stopped.
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An explosion rocks a building, not too far away from where the companions gather. It is followed shortly after by several smaller explosions, the noise of breaking glass and the unmistakable sound of a crowd of goblins screaming and arguing. Even with snow filling the air, the group can see flames reaching into the sky, topped by a massive plume of smoke. All nearby could see it, and none more easily so than the occupant of the top floor of the clocktower.
Easily fifteen feet from head to tail, a fully grown white dragon flaps its wings lazily and takes flight from the vacant clock face of the tower. It scans the surrounding area quickly - ignoring the heroes - and flies straight for the flames.
Ishbaad looks up in awe at the monstrosity above him that takes flight. He memorizes every detail he can about the dragon as it flies over him, Looking intently for even the slightest scale out of place.
His heart races as the creature flies towards the explosion, knowing it won't be long before he is staring that creature down.
Ishbaad perhaps regrets his earlier bravado as he notices even the cold air condense around Logrivich during the dragon's flight. Moisture somehow manages to form in air so cold that all is frozen. Snowflakes merge together and plummet from the sky when next to the obscene cold exuding from Logrivich's body.
An unnatural fear grips his heart, even from a distance of over 100 feet, fear at the sight of a dragon so large, so terrible and so magnificent.
Logrivich is no mere whelp as he had been hoping, no... what they intended to face was a full adult white dragon.
Scrunching her face in confusion, the oddly beautiful and singularly haunting voice seems to make the mechanical clatter of the tower's gears ring, gratingly with infinite discordance by contrast. She realizes then that not only has the singing reached her in a language she understands, but is brilliantly spoken in perfect Taldane. The thought almost occurs to her that this familiar voice should have brought a comforting familiarity, but instead, Aoife only feels a shudder of unease at hearing a tongue that feels so alien and lost within this frozen land of the north. The painfully beautiful melody was a stark reminder that the voice should not be found in this place, and that neither should she be. She was little more than a child of the warm summer's of Taldor, now lost forever to the witchery and snows of Irrisen.
The enormous clatter overhead makes the child envision a tremendous beast tearing its way through the hatch, clawing to reach and devour her. Above she can only see a few gossamer strands of snow pouring water-like through seams and cracks.
Logrivich... Aoife thinks to herself, continuing to watch the unmoving hatch. The dragon has left the tower... she allows herself to realize, at last attributing the sounds of rushing air to the beating of monstrous, ancestral wings.
It must have been some imp of the perverse which made made the child move as she did, toward the one place she should not dare to enter. After a few shuffling steps, the ladder stood upright directly before her, leading sickeningly upward to the most dangerous place of her short life.
Her feet brace on the ladder and her hands reach up, a powerful surge of strength gifted by her father's guantlets helps raise Aoife quickly toward the hatch which was continually wreathed in a gently churning cloud of draining snow. Each rung that she climbed brought the escalating sensation of a squadron of butterflies fluttering aimlessly in her stomach, twisting her fear and curiosity into a mindless locomotion the carried Aoife up and up, at last to the beast's lair.
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Seeing the dragon fly, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight grabs Ishbaad's tabard, terror in his eyes. "That too big for us! It kill Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight with one bite! How we gonna defeat that?"
He is visibly shaking, not understanding how fate has brought them to this point. "Uncle Ishy..." he cries, earlier promised lost in fear, "What if it ate Eefie?"
No thought is given to the goblins forces he has raised, and how they are probably doomed.
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"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, wait, she went where?"
"You mean to tell me she is in there alone? Why did you let her go in alone?"
"Who is coming to help us? Really? You think that will work?"
Jorvik is filled with more questions than answers as they arrive at the bone gate.
"Ishabaad, you want to wait for her? Because she stayed hidden in a swamp. When she was 8? You realize, Ishbaad, that this is Whitethrone? Imagine the worst possible death. They can do that to her for no reason. Sure you want to risk that?"
Though he though fondly of Aofie, all of them really, he might even lay down his life for these friends, it was too soon. They needed more time, to be better prepared.
And they it appeared. It filled Jorvik's vision though it was far enough away and obviously uninterested in them. This was their obstacle.
Fear. Real fear gripped him. His knuckles white on his hammer, he could not peel his eyes away from the majestic sight. The downstroke of its mighty wings, the razor sharp talons, the cold.
"We are going to need more goblins. A lot more goblins."
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Ishbaad turns to Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. It takes all of his resolve not to join in the freak out session. The calmness with which he delivers the next line to the goblin surprises even himself.
"If the dragon ate Aoife, then rushing in will only hasten our journey to join her. No, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. If it has already eaten Aoife, then I will make sure I am ready to cut its head off, and we are not ready yet."
"Besides, this is Aoife we are talking about. The same Aoife that nearly strangled a full grown winter wolf with her hands. Do you hear anything in that tower? No commotion. No ruckus. The dragon just flew away. Had she been found, I think we would know."
Ishbaad turns to Jorvik as he finishes his answer to the goblin. "No, I don't want to wait for her because she hid in a swamp. I want to wait for her because just like the swamp, this is something she can do, even though all common sense and reason says it is impossible.
"If we go in now to rescue her then we say to her through our actions that she is incapable and foolish. It does not matter that our rescue would seem justified, all she would know is that we think she is a burden. Not worthy to be left unattended, a danger to herself and others around her. No, that is not the Aoife that I wish to raise."
Ishbaad crosses his arms and sets his feet, hoping that his stance on the matter would be accepted. He of all people should feel the most compelled to rush in and save her, but somehow he knew that rushing in would have the exact opposite effect. He could see her swimming, floundering in a sea of confusion in an unforgiving world, grasping for meaning and purpose. Everything she had done since gathering up the courage to run away from home had been to find her father, and now that was ripped away from her.
A paradox to trump all paradoxes. No, rushing in to save her would only push her head under the turbulent waters of confusion even deeper. She did need to be saved, and waiting for her triumphant exit from her scouting mission would do just that. He was sure of it.
He had to be.
Summoning her inner reserves of courage, Aoife goes up through the trapdoor. She pushes hard upon the snow that covers it, getting a fair coating herself, and steps up into the exposed tip of the clocktower. As the snow-filled wind whistles freely into the area, Aoife shivers once more at Irrisen's bitter cold.
The large chamber-cum-lair contains the inner workings of an enormous clock, with clock faces on the north, west, and south walls. The entire eastern wall has been knocked out, and a platform of gleaming ice extends out into the open air. Tracked rails weave in and out of the corners of the room, passing through openings in the walls large enough to admit a human-sized man. Aoife finds the metal soldier - a depiction of an Iron Guardsman of Whitethrone - frozen in the middle of the now-broken tracks. A block of clockwork gears and mechanisms are contained in the western side of the room, still whirring away.
More notably, Aoife can see a literal dragon's hoard of gold, silver, platinum, gems and magical oddities abutting the gears. It seems to be arranged in a pile that Logrivich can sleep on. Frost and ice cover much of the lower portion of the pile, but the top portion (containing the more valuable coins and items) is clean and well polished. Aoife imagines the dragon counting out its full inventory of precious things every night before going to sleep... making sure not a single one is out of place.
Still the urge... the same urge that causes countless adventurers to risk their lives fighting dragons... the urge to take something from the pile of treasure is strong. Aoife can see weapons - one greatsword even, sized for her - necklaces, amulets, scrolls, potions... a figurine that must be magical... all contained within this immaculate pile. As thoughts of thievery - nay, repatriation - cross her mind, Aoife looks furtively for signs that Logrivich might be returning. Alas, through the snow, she sees little past the first row of houses surrounding the tower... and the distant glow of flames. Somewhere, out there, the city burns.
Goblins pull at each other's hair, punching madly. Flames appear all around... and then someone draws a dogslicer and cuts his opponent. From that point on, all bets are off as goblins hack madly away. Mostly, it is the Back Alley Boyz against the Ratcrunch Gang, but in the fire, flames, smoke and snow there is no way of knowing how many goblins fall to friendly fire.
Suddenly, the flames are extinguished as an impossible cold falls upon the buildings. The goblins on both sides look up to see an enormous white reptile banking upwards and blotting out the sun. With his first breath he puts out the flames. With his second, more than a dozen goblins die, frozen in place.
"Please boss!" cries Grinds Teeth Noisily in Sleep, "We not mean to burn building, just traitor goblins! Please! No hurt us!"
The mighty Logrivich may well have heard Grindtooth before biting his head off. He may well have considered the truth to the doomed goblin's words. He may even have believed the pathetic wretch.
"No-one sets my city on fire!" he roars at the last of the goblins, who cower together in fright, "No-one!"
With those words, he breathes on the huddled goblins. In a matter of seconds, the fires burning Whitethrone's buildings were quenched and both the Back Alley Boyz and Ratcrunch gang were no more. Queen Elvanna chose her Captain of the Guard well.
With a deafening roar, Logrivich takes to the skies.
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Gusts of freezing snow pelt the child's face as she peers out through the glowing aperture of light that is the missing clockface of the east wall. The dull, diffused light of the clouded sky is far brighter than the dim interior of the dragon's lair, and this spotlight effect mixed with the driving snow blinds Aoife as she looks through the opening to the far flung sky. She cannot make out any dark shape of the approaching dragon, but fears it is bearing down on her all the same.
Turning now she looks toward the pile of treasures, its value is beyond her wildest imagining. Even still the fear of the winged-death still weighs heavily upon her mind, but her eyes cannot help widening in covetous wonder. There was so much wealth and magic piled before her, enough even to make her and her companions a powerful threat to the Queen. It is then that her eyes catch sight of the greatsword, splendid and powerful, strewn and covered by baubles worth more than a king's ransom. She wonders if this blade would give her some great power and the ability to strike out at the those who had taken her father away. Maybe this blade could give the child the strength to help slay the Queen's monstrous pet, Logrivich. With these treasures, she cannot help but fantasize, perhaps she could avenge Thora...
Thora... the memory of the doomed girls collides with Aoife's lust for the treasure.
Her mind is cast back to the fragile broken body of Thora, and the recollection causes Aoife to stumble back away from the pile of riches. It is then she feels a twinge of disgust with herself for even thinking of grabbing one of these trinkets before trying to save whomever was trapped on the floor below. Her desire for riches made her sick, if she let a child die so that she could steal some trinket that might even be cursed anyway, like everything else in this frozen land, Aoife would never forgive herself. The thought of the ailment struck upon Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight comes to mind.
A moment later the child has crawled back through hatch, moving down the ladder enough to firmly close the portal above her, then silently moves to the door from which the singing was emanating.
I failed to save you, Thora, she thinks as she reaches the threshold, reaching out an arm to swing the door open quickly. Teasures do not matter... It is life that matter...
I will save him in memory of you, Thora... the child opens the portal.
Aoife screws up the courage to open the door and rescue whoever - or whatever - was the source of the signing. It doesn't occur to her until her shoulder hits the still closed door that it might be locked. The noise probably did not get noticed below, but any occupants within the room would clearly have noticed.
"Hello?" calls out a gentle, female voice of similar timbre to the singer, "Nan? Do I need to sing again? Why haven't you opened... oh, is someone else there? Please, I've been captured and held here! Oh please, please can you help me? Let me out!"
The distant flames are extinguished and a quiet pall falls over the city. The snow flitting through the air thickens and makes it impossible to see what is going on. With whatever rebellion Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlights friends began quashed, though, it cannot be long before Logrivich returns.
"So the beast has taken flight. Now's our chance to go in and look for the child," Kuragin whispers, catching on to the situation. If they have to go in, the absolutely best time is now, when the dragon is not home. Of course, he is quite unaware of Ishbaad's mad plan to actually fight the dragon.
Despite his own suggestion, the Jadwiga doesn't look like he would be taking the first step into the tower.
Jorvik turns to Kuragin. A more surprised look one has never seen on his face. "What? You would go in the tower to rescue the child? Oh, I would give half of the dragon's hoard to hear what Pavel and Nicoli would say about that!"
"Though I agree with you my friend, I defer to Ishbaad on this one. Should he feel the need to rush in, I will be there, half a step behind him. But if we truly would endanger her, and she can move as silently as he says, it might be best to stay here."
Accustomed to staying stationary for long periods of time since his youth in the Iron Guard, and hunting with the Mammoth Lords, Jorvik cannot help but to fidget slightly. He glances at Ishbaad in his stoic stance, unwavering, unmoving.
Of course, he is made of stone. Stone rarely moves.
Jorvik flexes his muscles and tries to allow his mind to wander to less stressful topics in the hope he can pass the time.
Aoife grinds her teeth in frustration as she grasps the locked handle. Next the child leans in close to the door, crouching down at the same time, trying to project her voice through the tiny seam beneath the portal.
"Please, sing as loud as you can and stand back... this is going to be very loud," her voice whispers just loud enough to be heard above the whir and clunks of the the gears. "We're getting out of here, you and I..."
Her breath rises and quickens pace as Aoife collects her strength, focusing on the singular task of using her shoulder to charge through the stout wooden door. She knows, allowing the fear of failure to grip her, that this sound will be heard on the level below.
After exhales the doubt, but giving the building rage a moment to fortify her, then lunges forward and throws her small shoulder against the panel.
Aoife puts all of her considerable effort into smashing down the door. The effect is... explosive. The hardwood splinters and cracks as the door is blasted inwards. A frightened, dark-haired... woman... is sitting near a remarkably comfortable bed. She is as beautiful as any Aoife has ever seen, and her large, light green eyes stare in disbelief as the small girl charges into the room after the broken door.
Aoife looks around, and at first glance the room is quite spacious, well appointed, comfortable... heated even, by a brazier in the center of the room. Were it not for the frightened woman and a door locked from the outside, Aoife would have guessed that the room's sole occupant was an honored guest and not a prisoner as she asserted.
"Th... th... thank you so much!" she says, finally recovering her composure, "Oh, a child! Still, thank you! I thought... that I would be l-l-locked in here f-f-forever! Is... is Granny Nan dead? How did you escape your cage? What has happened to the other children?
"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Bella, Bella Belvorica. I'm from Ch... Cheliax. Have you heard of it? I don't belong here. I'm hear looking for someone... and I was singing to pay my way and... Logrivich heard me at the Frosthall Theater... and he wanted me: wanted my voice."
Aoife looks on in disbelief, staring at the woman with wide eyes. Confusion racks the child's own face as she tries to process the strange woman before her that she did not expect. The woman was locked in this place, that much was for sure, but to Aoife she did not look captive.
"You... are... a prisoner here?" Aoife voice seems as small and fragile as she, herself, feels in this moment. "I'm rescuing you..."
There is no force behind the child's words that can be distinguished through the confusion.
"They will be coming, the monsters," she manages to stammer, her words at last gaining momentum. "If you want to be free of this place, you have to come with me now."
"Logrivich will be returning soon and the trolls below are probably on their way up right now..." Aoife turns as she says the words, half expecting a lumbering, hulking monster to fill the doorway and cut off her escape.
Bella nods and, without so much as grabbing a coat - for none exist - runs away with Aoife.
As Aoife descends the stairs with Bella, they pass once more by the second floor kitchen. Just as they turn to descend to the ground floor, the door behind them opens. Aoife remains still as a statue, but Bella cannot help but let out a gasp. Bella and Aoife turn to see a pair of evil eyes staring back at them from barely twenty feet away.
"Granny Nan..." Bella begins, petrified.
Kuragin would later inform the group that the witches of Irrisen are not the cartoonish freaks from Southron illustrations. Most are beautiful and die that way. Some, however, extend their lives artificially - or consider Baba Yaga a near enough ancestor that they live longer 'naturally'. Those witches... those witches, do not age gracefully. They gradually become more and more hag-like, hunching over with age that refuses to kill them. Those witches stop going to court and stop caring about human interactions - about their very humanity. Those witches patch their clothes so they don't fall apart and are inevitably shunned by their more beautiful kin. It is those witches the Southrons fear... and those witches who give total and utter credence to their wildest stereotypes.
Witches such as Granny Nan are feared as well as revered by their kin, and so are often given positions of token power. Positions such as the stewardship of the Winter Guard. Having lost all humanity, such witches often perform unspeakable acts in the name of their assigned duties.
"You're not one of my children," Granny Nan asserts, "But you'll die all the same. Give me back Logrivich's little birdie and lessen your punishment."
Aoife and Bella stand on the landing, petrified. Not sure what to do. Bella is considering getting back in her cell, and Aoife is considering attacking. Granny Nan sneers at them both and then says something that will help them make their minds up. She steps forwards, gnarled, inhuman hands raised and says, "Boo!"
Aoife stumbles back and hits the railing as the bent and twisted form of the ancient witch lunges forward raising her arms. The child reaches out and fumbles for Bella's hand but cannot bring herself to turn her gaze from the hunched monstrosity haunting the darkened hall. Creatures such as this should not exist was the only coherent thought the child could muster before her enormous gauntlet-clad hand at last clamped down on the wrist of Bella.
She could not rouse a word in response to the crone and focused what remaining wits she had to confront the horror growing within her, in order to break her gaze with the elder witch and turn down the stairs. With a leap Aoife cleared the first four steps and unintentionally squeezed the woman's delicate wrist, vise-like with immeasurable force. The child was pulling Bella in tow and at a dangerous pace, at any moment the two might tumble, end over end, ending tangled in a living heap at the bottom of the twisting stair. Yet Aoife could not help her speed, fear drove her as if its whips clearly spoke the message, if you slow... you die. She knew creature's such as Granny Nan were not to faced directly or dealt with, but only fled from as precipitously as possible. Even turning her back to descend the stairs caused a deep stab of anxiety that this crone, seemingly a monster in the guise of an old woman, could still somehow grab and drag Aoife back to the witch's kettle to be cooked and eaten.
It is pure luck rather than any design or act of stealth that keeps Aoife and Bella from encountering any of the trolls. Granny Nan calls after them, but her voice is drowned out by the cacophony of gears from above. They rush across the hardwoods and out the open doors into the courtyard. Aoife steals a glance backwards to see the hunched witch just reach the landing behind her. Granny points a bent finger toward the fleeing girl and woman, about to shout out a curse - or some other spell - but Bella summons the presence of mind to slam the door shut behind them. They rush past the animate statues and straight out the gate to the waiting friends.
Aoife has no time to wonder why Ishbaad, Kuragin and Jorvik were here with Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. She has no time to introduce them to Bella. All she has time to do is scream, "Run!"
the child shouts to her friends but does not stop nor even slow, nor release her grip on the strange woman she continues to drag along.
"Granny Nan will be coming!" she is now continuing away from others with great speed, Bella clearly barely able to keep pace with the oddly fast child. "Logrivich will be coming!"
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"Eefie! You safe! Me was so scared, me got friends to help." suddenly, the realization of where the goblins went sinks in... And where Logrivitch went. A tear comes to his eye... "Me think me send Grindtooth and his gang to their deaths... Me just wanted distraction to save you, Aoife. What me do? What me do? Me horrible bad goblin!"
The tears are streaming down his face as the realization has sunk in. He runs with the team to safety, sobbing the entire way. "Logrivitch, me swear me will kill you! With fire.. And pain. You no kill no one again with cold. "
Ishbaad cracks a smile as he sees Aoife exit the tower. However his joy in making the right decision is short lived as the girl screams to run with a young woman in tow behind her.
He looks up to the sky, suddenly wondering if the giant wyrm is already bearing down on them. When he doesn't see anything, he takes up the rear behind his unnaturally fast niece.
"Run! Logrivich is coming!" He shouts to random passerbys, inciting the jumpy populace to scurry and scatter, hiding their hurried movements within the ever increasing running mob.
Staying close to Jorvik and Kuragin, he stays calm within the chaos, using it as cover to move about when he might normally be bothered.
Finally, after what felt like hours of running, then walking in random patterns around the city, he finally enters the doors of the hidden shrine, making his way to the safety of its underground walls.
After catching his breath, he begins to chuckle, which turns into a full out belly laugh.
"Well done Aoife! Ha! I knew you had it in you, though this young lady is a surprise. So tell us, what did you learn." Ishbaad pours on the praise he knows is key to setting in this incredible success.
"Kurigan, well, all of you. We must make sure we have taken proper precautions against scrying. I am sure that in order to have a secret temple last for this long, you must already have something in place, but I would hate for us to bring someone new into this place and ruin all of your careful secrecy."
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After the mad scramble back to Solveig's, Jorvik looks to his companions. "There is line between recklessness and bravery. To sneak all the way up to the top of Lorvich's tower, to risk fighting THAT now, before we have had time to prepare. Everything could have been lost. All of the people that cared about us, and risked their lives for us, it all would have been for naught as that dragon tore us apart today. Be careful Aoife, you are a hero now because you made it, but tempt fate too often, or too brazenly, and it will get you in the end.
"And who is this that you have rescued from the tower? You must know now the White Guard will now be searching for her and will make our task all the more difficult.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, that was some fast thinking. I fear that your friends are no more. They paid a terrible price for Aoife's brazenness. I shall compose a ballad, one that is not written on paper, but one you can teach to your friends so that they may remember the fire those brave goblins created in the face of the wintry death."
For a moment, all is quiet in the Shrine of the Everbloom. After the initial adrenaline surge had worn off and heated words were exchanged, the companions found themselves cold and quite out of energy.
"Thank you," it is Bella who breaks the silence, "Thank you all so much for saving me. I don't know what I would have done if it weren't for you. I know you couldn't get to them also, but there are still children in that tower. Granny Nan got me to sing for them to calm them down sometimes... and I think, I think... I think sometimes... she cooks them." Bella seems at once disbelieving and aghast at the evil that once held her captive.
"I can't believe how stupid I was," she continues, more to herself than the companions, "To come here to Irrisen after I was told what the place was like... all in search of someone who may not even love me anymore. Just because of a letter... that may not even have come from Whitethrone!" The enormity of everything that has happened finally gets to the woman and she breaks down crying. After a time wails become sobs and the place becomes quiet once more.
The sound of the secret door from the baths opening breaks the silence this time. Knowing they may not have entirely evaded pursuit, Bella's rescuers force their weary muscles into action and draw weapons, making ready to defend the shrine and their new ward if necessary. To their relief, Solveig appears.
"Well, it is good to know my shrine is well defended!" she laughs, a little nervously, "Milani's brave protectors will need some items. The Heralds I spoke with were very excited to hear the very few details that I did share with them of your plans here. Most of them were even willing to help in a material way. We have quite the dragon's horde for you here! I've labeled them all, to help." Solveig opens the sack. Only Aoife notices how truly unworthy of the monicker 'dragon's horde' the bountiful supply of helpful items is.
Suddenly, from behind the companions, Bella gasps.
"Solveig?!"
"Bella?!"
The two women stand there, neither moving a muscle as they stare at each other for a very long time. Suddenly, they both rush forwards as one and embrace, each threatening to crush the other in their arms. They loosen the hold enough that they can once more look at each other in the eyes, and then kiss ardently. Solveig cradles the back of Bella's head, running her hands through those dark locks as she passionately explores the southerner's mouth. Bella takes the more submissive role, holding Solveig's shoulders and leaning back, supported by the Ulfen woman's strong arms.
It is an uncomfortably long time before the two separate and Solveig turns to the assembled five. "How in...? What... what happened this morning?"
<LOOT>
"Ahem..." Kuragin mumbles, and finds a speck of snow in his shoes suddenly very interesting.
"Are these southern customs..? Such public shows of affection are quite appreciated here. Even with more ah.. common couplings." He whispers to the others, while thinking whether or not to withdraw from the room entirely.
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Aoife stands still and watches the woman embrace, unable to get over the surprise that they already know each other. She had expected to be introducing Bella to the others, especially Solvveig, but now that seems wholly unnecissary.
"Well, Mrs. Solveig," the child begins to explain in answer to her question. "Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and I went to Logrivich's tower. We were going to look around and try to scout ahead. When we got there we found the front door was not only unclocked but open too. So..."
The child continues with her story, speaking of getting separated from her goblin friend, and trapped inside the structure when a troll left his quarters to sharpen a cleaver. Then she describes the smell of the kitchen on the second floor and the voice amidst the crates and boxes, that she believed had to be a doll. Next she describes hearing Bella's voice on third floor, and what Logrivich's liar looked like after he flew away from some unknown reason, later revealed to be the tragic death of Ice Melts Quietly in Sublights friends. Lastly, Aoife ends her tale with the rescue of Bella and fleeing for her life from Granny Nan.
After telling her tale, she turns to Jorvik, a blazing anger in her eyes. "You are right, as always, big brother," the child says, though there is underlying tone of betrayal lacing her words. "It probably was stupid of me to climb so high up the tower. And I feel so terrible that Icy's friends have been lost becuase of me... becuase they were helping me, in a way... And that is something I will have to live with, it is not something you will. But I appreciate you making sure I know they died for me and becuase of me..."
She takes a moment, catching her breath and letting the anger calm enough, allowing her to continue.
"I did not ask for the goblins to give their lives for me," she says, colder than intended. "And I would not have entered Logrivich's lair had he not left in the first place, nor would I have tried to save Bella unless I knew he was gone from that place."
Now Aoife pulls from her pack the tattered Winter Guard uniforms she took from the tower and throws them at Jorvik'a feet in a messy pile. Then Aoife turns and walks across the room, pausing for a moment beside Bella.
"Apparently, I am to be sorry for helping you leave that place," she says to Bella, her words still angry and seething for the reactions of the others. She was so sure she has done some good this day, and thought her companions would be proud of her, but now she felt betrayed and even more like a stranger in these cruel lands where nothing made sense and all love and compassion was seemingly treated with disdain. "If it is cruel or evil of me, because I am not sorry, then let me be a villain."
"I do not regret helping..."
At that, Aoife turns and begins to quit the room, taking her leave of the others.
Accepting being berated by Aoife, Jorvik lets out a sigh and watches the girl storm out.
"The glory of youth, to do and not think. The curse of old age, to think and not do." He shakes his head.
I am not a father, nor consular, nor guide. Why do I keep judging my friends?
Seeing the women reunited, Jorvik blushes and pulls his friends to the side to allow them some privacy.
"Ishbaad, care to join me, again, in speaking to Prvan? It seems that we have a lot more information to share with him, and I have many ideas I wish to discuss on the way.
'Best leave Aoife to cool off."
"So the goblin horde gave me an idea, it might behoove us to face the dragon on our terms, rather this his. "If we can draw it out again, to a place where we choose, it will give us an advantage. I do not think that we can kill all in that tower and have the strength left to face the dragon.
"It will be imputations and confident. Both traits we should exploit."
Ishbaad raises a stony eyebrow at the passionate embrace.
Who am I to judge?
The irony of his thought is completely lost on the judgemental inquisitor. He subconciously reaches his hand out to cover Aoife's eyes as he watches, hoping for a few pointers for when he next goes to see Greta.
He watches the exchange between Jorvik and Aoife and his shoulders sag. "Aoife. You did do well. You came out alive, and rescued someone in the process. Don't let praise or critisism affect you while your adrenaline still flows."
The girl is already gone before he even got her name out, so he doubts she even heard him. Ishbaad sighs, then turns to Jorvik and nods.
"Yes, I will accompany you." he says simply, and follows the northman back out when they know it is safe to do so.
"I do not disagree with your assessment. I was thinking the same thing actually, though my thoughts turned when I saw the way it decimated those goblins. It was free to fly anywhere it wanted, raining death from above. If we can corner it in it's tower, we may be cramped, but because of it's size, it will be cramped as well."
Ishbaad looks ahead as they walk. "With one of Ice Melt's Quietly in Sunlight's elixirs, I can awaken the stone giant inside of me, and perhaps seal off the Dragon's escape. We could turn it's lair into it's tomb."
Ishbaad looks at his friend and raises a single eyebrow, waiting for Jorviks initial reaction to his thoughts.
"No need to decide a plan yet. I think there would be pros and cons to both tactics. Let's see what your friends in the Iron Guard have to say, and we can talk about it some more with the others. Though to be honest, I suspect that if the two of us suggest the same course of action, the others will quickly agree. One thing we agree on for sure is that it will be vain and impossibly confident, as it has likely never face anything or anyone to match its prowess and power."
Iomedae be with us, that we might be able to do just that.
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"Me never say those goblin were my friends!' says Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. "That no mean me not sad that they die. But, me glad Aoife come out alive. That most important thing. Goblins know we no love long, that we live fast and free. Sometime dragon kill us all, sometimes we kill dragon. Me think Grindtooth could have been good loo-ten-ant for me, but that no matter. His booms not nearly good enough.
"Maybe we learn something from them, that our lives might be short, but if we to die, we should die for cause we believe in.
"Me also think that if wanna kill trolls in tower, we need to have distraction. Maybe distraction where allies can go away and hide, or distraction where not allies at risk. But maybe we can kill trolls first, then kill Logrivitch later."
Solveig sits quietly and listens in rapt wonder to Aoife's story. Throughout, she holds both of Bella's hands in her lap, the two occasionally exchanging glances.
"That is quite the story! You are far braver than I gave you credit for Aoife," Solveig seems almost apologetic, "And you battered down the door with your bare hands... in one go? You are far stronger than I gave you credit for."
Solveig turns to her lover, "Bella, how did you find me here?"
Bella cries immediately, and through her tears relates the story of how she received Solveig's letter and found from the courier that it came from Irrisen. She is an opera signer, and decided to leave Cheliax and travel the North on a kind of tour. Whitethrone was her first destination after departing the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. When she sang for the crowds at the Frosthall theater some months ago, before the appearance of Baba Yaga's Dancing hut, Logrivich heard her song and wanted this 'songbird' for himself. None dared say otherwise, despite Irrisen's policy of treating traveling troubadours and merchants alike with aloof respect. She has been there ever since, her only audience a dragon, a witch and the occasional crowd of frightened children.
Once more the slider opens and a pair of eyes peer out at Ishbaad and Jorvik. This time, though, the door swings wide. "It's about time you came back!" Prvan 'the Stalker' cries as he steps back to allow the two men inside.
He leads the pair through the cold halls of the Iron Barracks. Unlike Logrivich's Clocktower, however, this place is heated... to just barely above freezing. Despite its name, the place is made mostly from stone. Iron accents are everywhere - a door here, a beam there - but stone is most assuredly dominant: cold, unforgiving stone, like the men in here. Sour glances is all the pair receive as Prvan leads them to what must have been a cell for dignitaries. The door is solid steel to allow the occupant privacy, but has a barred hatch on the outside. Inside, though, the room is reasonably well appointed and includes a comfortable bed and a sitting table.
Prvan enters with Ishbaad and Jorvik and closes the iron doors behind them, smiling as he holds the keys aloft to show that they can get out any time. "Pretty sound-proof in here," notes Prvan with a smile, "So... where were we? I seem to recall something about freeing Baba Yaga, and me being the key to it all... but that must have been the wind doing strange things to my ears. I cannot have heard you right."
Ishbaad fights the urge to remain silent in the background, the lot he has accepted for optimum survivability and minimum attention in this strange and frozen city. However in the presence of regimented soldiers, proper barracks, and impressive structures, he finally finds a place that feels a bit like home to him.
Even if the soldiers are unbending servants of an evil, fear-mongering tyrant. That he intended to set free.
Before he realizes he should keep his mouth shut, he is already speaking. "Well met Prvan. I am Ishbaad. Soldier by trade myself, though like you circumstances have taken me away from my regular duties. *ahem* I see you and all your men still dress full battle rattle. Impressive dedication to regiment, considering the circumstances."
"Of course we are still dressed the part," Prvan replies, "We are still an active regiment... we are simply no longer the official City Guard, that is the..." his face contorts in frustration and anger, "... Winter Guard's job now. If war were to break out, or the city as a whole were to be endangered then our presence will still be required."
More quietly, he adds, "Queen Elvanna may be a few snow flakes short of a blizzard, but she is not so stupid as to dismiss us completely. It is only a matter of time before those monsters fold and then we'll need to pick up the pieces. Of course, it might not go down like that... tell me more about this 'return Baba Yaga' quest you hinted at before you rushed off with a crazed snow goblin and a stilyagi, from the look of him."
"Sorry to interject before you can get a word in edgewise, Jorvik, but my next question I think will lead in to answering Prvan's. I'll let you take it from there." Ishbaad straightens his back, taking the opportunity to pounce on the frustration of the Iron Guard soldier.
"If Logrivich were to fall, just how quickly would the Iron Guard be ready to pick up those pieces?" Ishbaad lets his cryptic question hang in the air. It was Tighearnán's idea, but the Iron Guard didn't need to know where they got it from.
Let him marinate on that nugget while we talk of the endgame...
"Wow... that is one hell of an 'if'!" Prvan whistles as he lies down on the bed and has a good, long think about the question, "I guess we would have to mobilize... the next day? If we knew when he were going to fall, that minute, really!"
"I had something going on, before... I was interrupted." Kuragin excuses himself from the Herald's hideout, and starts walking back to the coffee shop. Perhaps the interruption was far the best, giving Kuragin some time to digest what he learned.
"Sergei. Apologies." The Jadwiga declares as he returns to the private room he left not so long ago. "It was not polite of me to abandon just after our reunion. It feels like ages since we last saw. So please, tell me how you ended up in here." Kuragin tries his best to look happy about the reunion. But being as bad an actor he is, there is odd darkness creeping into his tone.
When the goblin finds the child, she is pacing and still visibly angry. Sporadically she shakes her head in annoyance, and even appears to mutter to herself. "What?!" she turns and angrily questions Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. After a moment her face softens, realizing she has treated her friend poorly. "Umm... Yes... thank you, I would love to meet your mother."
"I can't believe they reacted that way.... I thought they'd be happier with me..." she continues to talk to herself.
Looking up again, large eyes well with sadness. "I am sorry for what happened to those goblins. Probably more than you know."
"But yes. Of course, I would love to go with you," she continues, trying to feign cheerfulness. "Let's go find your mother, you must miss her so much. And you deserve to see her and be happy."
"Prvan, sorry for that. An emergency called us away. So where were we, I know it might seem weird, but Ishbaad here is as trustworty a comapnion that one can find. You can trust him implicitly.
"So if you have some more time let me expand upon my tale. I have meet up with an odd assortment of fellows, some of whom you saw me run off with. We have returned to Whitethrone not to revisit old haunts, but to set things right.
"We have a plan, a detailed plan, to free Baba Yaga from her imprison. Let me be frank, we have amassed many loyal supporters in many factions. We can agree that our Queen has stayed past time, and we are in need of a change to the old ways.
"Once we do, we cannot hold the city. That will fall to you, and the Iron Guard. We would rely on you to keep the peace, and restore the throne to Baba Yaga's whishes.
"If I have your assurances that you can do this, then we can fill you in on some minor details.
"As for the 'if', consider it a 'when'. That is how confident I am that we can do this. Beyond securing the city, we could use any aid you would be willing to provide, be it man power or supplies.
"Once we have better details, I would like to run it by your tactical mind.
"What say you old friend? Are you ready to take your city back?"