Xanderghul gets up bright and early, alone in the cave. What nostalgia that was, but he just puts his bedroll and blanket away in his backpack, does a quick waking-up regimen of stretches and jumping jacks, eats a cracker from his food packs, and gets right back to work at the scribing stations. By the time everyone else is up and ready to go, he has already packed up and left Brae-Hagen's cave behind, going to find his peers to begin planning for the day and the days that were to come.
"Külə, do you truly believe that I am unaware that some of the cultists are likely to return to battle if given the opportunity? Those who remain will be marked, allowing us to spot them should they show up again at some point. However, with the weather as is, and without cold weather gear and weapons, the cultists will be unable to leave the safety of the town. It is unlikely many of them will brave the trek out towards the worldwound. They will be informed that should any of them be captured again, they will be executed on the spot."
"Many of those here are children and elderly. They never posed a threat to begin with, and they were only to be used for sacrifices for a ritual, so I find killing them after they have surrendered atrocious. Similarly, leaving them to starve is an unusually cruel punishment, and one that only serves to reinforce the view that they are no different than we are."
"Furthermore, many in the group feel strongly about the possibility of redemption. Done this way, it offers a possibility for those who have chosen the wrong path to turn from it. It may be unlikely, but until now they have not been given an opportunity. Not everyone deserves such a chance, but we will not murder children and the elderly just because it is less risky to do so. Giving you a chance was a risk, and one well worth it in my opinion. Perhaps some of them will one day contribute to the crusades or Mendev."
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With the snowstorm having passed, Ehren spends the next morning meditating outside, basking in what little warmth the sun provided. The cold was bearable, at least in the sense that it would not kill him outright. He would cast his warding spell on himself again soon enough, but remaining in touch with nature often required letting it have its way. Besides, it gave him something to think about. Just a few days ago, he might not have believed that an entire army could march through the cruel, cold might of Ein Tiriâ unscathed, and claim such a decisive victory. True, they had technically cheated with magic, but it was still a tale for the ages. Perhaps the skalds would hear of it someday... if Isilme or Valaria did not get to it first. It was an amusing thought, but Ehren knew that they had a long way to go before any tales of victory could be shared.
Once he is finished meditating, the druid joins his friends in the temple to plan their next move.
"We should definitely scout out the area first, both the base camp and the castle itself if possible. Jorsal's army will be the most formidable once we have faced yet - we will need every advantage that we can find."
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Val spends the night with Ayavah and is up with the dawn. She carefully extracts herself from her lover's arms and digs out her journal. Once she's put her thoughts to paper, she gently wakes Ayavah and goes to find their friends and a warm breakfast before they get on with their day.
I ended up being the one to slip inside to take a look around the actual town. Xan made me invisible with one of his super magic spell things and I just walked straight in through the guards and past the demons without getting spotted. I have to give him credit Xan definitely knows how to weave some crazy spells. I managed to ferret out a couple of useful things, but for the most part it was a surprisingly easy infiltration. No one caught me. No one saw through my invisibility. I just got in, got out, and brought back the information for us to start making plans. I was kind of expecting to get horribly murdered or something. I’m really, really not used to one of our plans going off without a hitch.
The actual intel… it was standard but kind of sobering. So many of the cultists were old or young. I watched kids beg their guardians to be allowed to fight for Deskari because they wanted to be a warrior. And I watched a kid get beat for not obeying when he was told. That was the closest I got to breaking cover and beating the sh*t out of someone the entire time. I also heard some interesting stories about a beast called Snil-Snil, which cannot possibly be a good thing.
Ehren managed to blaze a trail for the army to move through the snow to get to the town and we set up another deception. I swear, one of these days we’re going to pretend to be cultists and no one is going to buy it. But that wasn’t today! No, today Isilme managed to dress herself up as the commander we killed and had Ehren play her magma ooze to sell it. Again, it went off pretty much perfectly. They let us just walk in with our army disguised as the forces that attacked Silvershore and we got our entire army inside the defenses before they really did anything. It just kind of… worked. I was starting to get worried. Things never go that well for us. At all.
Of course, we didn’t get the keep that luck, so I suppose it balances out overall. We let the army attack and sweep through the cultists while we went straight for the mine to kill off the commander before he came out to slaughter our troops with his powers. That’s when we met Snil-Snil. Turns out, the cultists had a qlippoth around as their guard. If I ever have to watch a ball of intestines eating itself again, it will be too soon. And one that had acid blood too. Because of course it f*cking did. Killing Snil-Snil wasn’t the hardest thing we’ve ever done, but it left us a little beat up and tired. Especially when there was an invisible spell caster trying to make us miserable the entire time. Xan called dibs on killing her, so I just focused on stabbing the disgusting slime ball to death.
With the leader’s pet dead, I went to get healers so we could patch ourselves up before getting into a fight with their commander. Unfortunately, by the time I got back with Sosiel, he was already in the process of kicking everyone’s asses. Yeah, I should have seen that coming, I admit, but I barely had enough blood in my body at that point to think straight, so I blame that for running off when we still had an enemy around. I jumped into the fight and nearly got killed by Brae-Hagen near the end but we managed to put the guy down in the end.
Now Xan and Ehren are getting all into their weird magic stuff and Xan’s working some kind of black magic to steal knowledge from dead people while Ehren’s got some plans for the bloodstones that can be mined here. But more interestingly, we found out that our old friend Jorsel was going to be leading one half of an attack on Icerift with Hagen leading the other half. So the abandoned castle is apparently occupied by something that they thought was going to be enough trouble to justify setting up a pincer attack. Suspicious. Very suspicious. There’s something else going on here and we might need to do something about it. But every second we’re distracted by this, our window to attack Drezen is getting smaller and smaller. And I’m starting to worry that we’re going to run out of time.
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The following morning, several things are weighing on Ary's mind as she awakes - the first getting back into her armor, the second prayer, and the third helping a friend through a troubled time. The latter two could very likely be accomplished at the same time.
So after she gets dressed back inside of her breastplate and straps on all of her accouterments, she goes off to find Aron, and once she does, she invites him to join her in the temple. It was a rare opportunity for her to pray to her goddess in a temple so... devoid of faith for so long, but more importantly, it was an opportunity to reach out to a close ally who had lost so much, recently.
Though it may have been a bit shady to draw him to the temple where he had been performing engineering work without suggesting directly what it was for, Ary doesn't try to cover her tracks at all, instead speaking openly with him. "Sosiel mentioned that you had... been withdrawn since your sister's passing on the battlefield." she says, unceremoniously. "If you need to talk, I know that there are dozens of people both more qualified and probably closer to you than I am, but I am here if you need me. I won't pretend to know what you're going through, even if I have some idea, having been the topic of conversation between Annabelle and myself while we spread beauty around the village we visited throughout the night, of what you have gone through prior to this. But... you have to realize that none of this is your fault. And I'm likely being presumptuous there. But... I feel it's safe to say that knowing your sister, I know a bit of your character. Even before, you likely blamed yourself for every bad thing that befell her, right?" she pauses, but not long enough for him to respond. "But this isn't a permanent loss, just as her transformation isn't permanent, lest either of you wish it to be." Ary sighs, as she comes to a point where she's at a loss for words.
"I lost my sister as well. I... don't believe she's dead, but I lost her on the same day that I lost both of my parents and my home. I survived, stealing, wandering around aimlessly in a city that didn't want me, with people that didn't want me, until I found my faith. Faith kept me from being lost... and has lead me to a place where I can hopefully make a very large difference in a large number of lives. I don't know where I'd be without my faith... and while I understand that you likely believe very different things from me, I wanted to invite you to pray with me this morning - because it's important to remember where you are, and what you have... and not to focus on what you've lost. It's easy to become lost in those feelings... and important - I think - to keep your head above the water for the people that you care about. So..?" she asks, motioning to the temple doors.
* * *
Ary kneels within the chapel, shield held beneath sword, eyes closed, as she thinks about her allies, her decisions that she's made, and the fallen that had made their sacrifices so that others could live in a better world. She puts faces to names as she asks Iomedae to accept them, or help them to be guided to their deities resting places... but before her prayer is over, she turns to the question that had left a knot in her stomach. She could not resort to evil herself... would not. But was what Xanderghul was doing so wrong? Was she right to stand up for him and his views, the very same views that could be used to save lives later? And if she was wrong, where was it that Ary should draw the line? Should she ask him not to use magic he learned through the evil means? What of the rest of his magic? Was the good that he could do, the weapons he could wield, inherently tainted by his choices? Or could his willingness to choose... to be pragmatic... be viewed as a boon? There were far too many questions...
Ser Ilivan agrees with how the conversation is going so far. "Sending in our best warriors to scout and treat is a good idea. The more information we have, the better position we'll be in to decide our next move. Also, Ehren, as a shapeshifter, could rendezvous with the army at a moment's notice."
Markus nods. "I'll get to work with Annabelle immediately. If things go well, I should be finished by tomorrow morning. In the meantime Father Cassiel will be in charge of delegating the clerical duties."
"Before we leave, I think it would be worthwhile to scry on Jorsal," Ehren says to the group. "It is possible that he has already taken countermeasures against divinations, but if not, then we might have a chance to see what he is up to. We have all met the man, so there is at least a tenuous link for us to work with."
Looking to Ary, he goes on. "I would just need the mirror that we acquired at Nerosyan. If time is a concern, you could always depart without me - catching up would not be much of an issue."
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Hinagiku gently touches Chaleb on the forearm during his outburst, and goes on to explain that, truthfully, she did not mind the words. They were just words. But, and she breaches it gently, such words were of anger, and could disappear if one controls the emotion.
Understanding her welcome is passed, Hinagiku simply leaves the wizard to his own devices.
Hinagiku spends the night in meditation as usual. While following a slow martial choreography, she goes over the day in her mind, identifying any unwanted thoughts and emotions and letting them out as she breathes. With pain, she remembers the fight with Snil-Snil and Brae-Hagen. Fear for the loss of her companions, she breathes out, and draws breath while remembering that none is truly in control and must go with the flow. Out she breaths the memories of the hezrous. Accepting what happened to be past and that it holds no sway over her, she breaths in. And then, with difficulty she breaths out sadness for Xanderghul’s act, for the desperation and lack of hope she feels in the man. In she breaths acceptance. Acceptance that the universe might not be just, that the present is and can only be changed by time. Acceptance that there might be no cure to the curse, but that keeping one’s eyes and mind open might help her notice a way to help the man.
The rest of the night she spends reading some of the books she has and practicing her throws with the wushu dart and shuriken.
Hinagiku stays silent for most of the meeting. As always, taking strategy required her to hold to many unknown things into memories, and involved ways of thinking that she was not used to. However, there was one thing she got from the meeting: they would start by scouting, a plan that she would almost always agree with.
”Understood.” she simply says at the end of the meeting.
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After walking about for a while with Külə debating the treatment of the remaining cultists, Isilme spends the rest of the evening helping out where she can with healing and boosting the morale of the troops by setting up one of the longhouses in which to perform for those who needed to unwind. She borrows from Valaria’s repertoire, telling the Tale of the Battle for the Grey Keep first, and follows up with her own story of the Tragedy of Ghalcor, making use of silent image to enhance the tale as she had originally.
When she finishes, she heads back outside, intending to pray this evening and then set down her thoughts to paper. She had been lax as of late in her devotions, and, as such, her dreams had been quiet. She thinks back to the dreams of Elysium she’d had shortly after her meeting with Desna, as well as that fateful dream itself. Somehow there was a way to return to her own form and return Li’an to her own body. She was determined to do so, and was certain that if she and Aravashnial could find time that they might be able to make some headway in the matter.
Aravashnial… her friend had been far from her thoughts lately, though she was hardly to blame with the non-stop rush the campaign had been so far. Between rescuing Ledsa, being assaulted by Mangvhune and just the stress of preparing for battle after battle, she had had little time to think about matters beyond immediate survival. Now in the quiet of the evening, alone for the moment, she thinks back to the night they’d shared drinks in Kenabres and catches herself smiling. No doubt she missed his company and wished she were still able to teleport so she could spend some time with him. Teleport would certainly ensure that Aravashnial would not have to deal with the teasing he would get from Valaria and Anevia, she thinks to herself with a chuckle. Unfortunately, however, she would find no such comfort this evening.
When she prepares to pray, a thought occurs to her. She heads over to find Külə. She gives him a pat on the side and then asks, ”Would you care to accompany me in my nightly devotion to Desna?” She gives him a smile and continues ”You might find it a peaceful way to clear your mind, and I would appreciate the company.” She spends a good hour afterwards dancing beneath the stars, retracing her steps in the pristine snow afterwards and pondering their meaning for the days ahead. Finding a place to sit, Isilme introduces Külə to the various constellations and stars, naming them and explaining how reciting them (something far more reasonable for a Unicorn than dancing) ties her to Desna. She spends time talking about her travels about the world as well, and the different stars and constellations that are visible in the southern hemisphere.
Finally she heads to where she had quartered, bringing Külə with her and offering to blindfold him so he can sleep without worrying about possibly gazing at someone if he wakes up startled. She lets him curl up and then sets down herself, spending some time writing in the journal before drifting off to sleep alongside Külə's scarred form.
15 Lamashan 4713
The next morning Isilme rises early, getting her things together to prepare for the day ahead. She joins Ehren and the others as they discuss the plans to scout for the day. ”I believe scrying ahead of our scouting mission would be a good idea Ehren,” she says, ”and we should be able to spare the time before we leave. Icerift is only a few hours from here, so hopefully we should be able to scout and return today even with the time it takes to scry on Ser Jorsal.”
Külə sighs. "I was once an idealist like yourself, in my youth. The years have served to reinforce only one thing: men are capable of extreme cruelty, and the only way to fix it is to eradicate it utterly and swiftly. You truly think these children can change, after you've slain their parents before their very eyes? Their elders, as frail as they are now, certainly committed unspeakable atrocities in their youths. Demonspawn live so very long, after all."
"I do not wish for cruelty, I wish for justice," he says, but doesn't push the matter any further than that.
Later, Külə refrains from joining Isilme in her dancing - his joints were stiff and rigid from pain so he was ill-suited to the task. Instead he lays in the snow and watches her, trusting the azata to not make the mistake of gazing into his eyes unawares.
He listens to her recounting the stars with interest, and when the pair finally fall asleep, Isilme finds his body far more relaxed than it was the previous night.
Ary finds Aron in his tent, awake, sharpening his blades with a whetstone. Her sudden appearance startles him and he is visibly nervous on the way to the temple, though he relaxes once it becomes clear the reason for their meeting.
He waits for her to finish speaking before voicing his mind. "But... it really is my fault. Everything that's happened to Annabelle, I mean. We wouldn't even be here... if it weren't for me. Her dying, what happened to her in the Grey Garrison, everything. It's all my fault. I'm so.... weak." His eyes shimmer with tears. He turns his head away and rubs them with the back of his hand. His fingers are trembling.
"I hope that someday you find your sister," he says quietly. "Sosiel says the same kinds of stuff too. He and Annabelle are kind of the same... he came here because his older brother decided to enlist in the Crusades. Was stationed at Portolmaeus... he... went missing on an expedition. But Sosiel thinks he's still alive, somewhere."
"When Sosiel found me I was a broken man. And he healed me, body and soul. He told me to find strength in faith... but I really think I just found strength in him. I've never found much strength in prayer. But I guess I owe it to him... and you.... to try."
Aron doesn't speak much after that. He kneels alongside Ary at the altar, lost in his own thoughts.
------------
Present time
Anevia rummages through Ary's things - she was getting pretty used to it by now, having helped her Commander don and remove her armor as she needs, as well as manage the ever increasing amount of stuff she carries. After a moment she procures the silver mirror and hands it to Ehren. It is carefully wrapped in soft cloth.
"Sounds like we're sticking with you, kid. Here ya go."
-------
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"Thank you," Ehren says with a small smile, handling the mirror with a great deal of care. He gently tugs away its cloth wrapping, exposing its polished, silvered surface. Despite its utility, he still felt a little awkward about having requested the thing. The expensive fixture felt out of place in the druid's hands; it'd be more at home in say, some noble's manor. Hm. No... probably too cheap for Horgus's tastes.
With the spell's primary focus in hand, Ehren solicits the book belonging to Jorsal - the only physical link they had to him - before searching for a quiet place to perform his divination. He sits on the ground, much like he does when meditating, and carefully sets the mirror down before him, face-up. He then sets the book down beside the mirror, along with a sprig of holly and mistletoe. Ehren performs one last check to make sure that the mirror was capturing enough light, before letting out a sigh and emptying his mind.
Murmuring quietly, Ehren stares blankly into the mirror's surface. His reflection stares right back at him, but the druid tries to look beyond himself, willing the Green to show him their adversary, wherever he might be.
After an hour of meditation, Ehren finds that the mirror simply shows his own reflection.
Isilme frowns when it becomes clear that Ehren's attempt to scry on Ser Jorsal had failed. "If you decide to attempt it, Xanderghul, let me know. I can enhance your scrying with arcane concordance, which should improve the odds. Otherwise we should consider heading out immediately."
Ehren blinks for the first time in an hour, his eyes dry and red. The frown on his face says it all, but he says it aloud anyway.
"Damn," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. Without looking, he concurs with Isilme's statement. "You did know the man personally - your chances should be much greater than mine. I won't be able to try again until tomorrow, in any case."
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Things have been quite hectic since last I wrote. The army has moved on since the Chapel of the Argent Shield, and Ledsa has come with us. That night before we left, Ebonus and his assistant came to attempt to kill Ledsa. Thankfully I had decided to spend the night with her just in case something happened. By rendering her invisibile, I was able to trick the priest and his stooge that I had released her because I knew they were coming. Though the moment was tense at first, I was able to talk the two of them down, making the point that they should turn themselves in to the Sword-Knight. It worked, and clearly the Sword-Knight was not pleased the following morning. Ebonus wound up pilloried for disobeying her commands, though I gathered she was not terribly happy in having to do so. Likely due to the tensions between the Burners and the other crusaders at the chapel.
We continued on and fought at Ahari Bridge, baiting a group of demons and cultists into leaving themselves open to a devastating cavalry charge from behind. We had a fairly successful melee, and managed to bring down a Vrock along with the cultist forces. From speaking to the few crusaders we saved at the bridge after the battle (members of the original force tasked with holding the bridge for us until we arrived), as well as interrogating cultist prisoners, it became clear that the cultist forces had marched on Silvershore. That knowledge led us to split up, leaving the army to march at its pace with Ary at its head while Ehren flew ahead to warn the town. The group (Xanderghul, Hinagiku, Anevia, Valeria and I) followed behind as quickly as we could,
Arriving at Silvershore, the Kellids had already prepared for the coming battle. We had little time, however, and Ehren’s scouting quickly made it clear that we were outnumbered, with not one but three separate forces approaching. Thankfully Ehren was able to slow two of the groups down, allowing us to stagger them and ambush them one after another, making use of illusions and deception to defeat them. Given that we were able to best nearly two hundred cultists with only the stalwart people of Silvershore and the six of us, I have no doubt tales will be told of the fight for Silvershore for some time to come. At the day’s end, the enemy forces had been crushed, and we had captured around a dozen cultists who remained, along with the cultist commander’s mount, Külə (a name I gifted him), a unicorn who had suffered greatly and been broken by the commander.
I have taken to keeping him at my side, hoping that perhaps I can change his view of things. I suspect, however, if he is going to come around, it will not be anytime soon. I have also made use of the fact that he is a unicorn to help protect Ledsa at night, since she has been visited at least once by someone (perhaps the father of Yulin). In addition, the demon I tricked in the second battle of Silvershore, Mangvhune, attempted to infiltrate the camp in order to assassinate me the night we stayed in Silvershore. I thankfully awoke and spotted him loitering about outside, but we were unable to stop him from escaping via teleportation. I will need to use the blood I managed to get from fighting him to help Ehren scry on him. Perhaps we will be able to set up a trap for him and keep him from escaping next time.
Our interrogation of the prisoners yielded further useful information, informing us that further forces had headed up to the mines north of Silvershore, as well as to Vilareth’s Ford and Icerift. Those heading to the old salt mines, led by the half-Balor Brae-Hagen, were tasked with retrieving materials for summoning Abyssal Rift Drakes to the cultists aid, and as such we decided to strike there first. We were also able to send a warning to the men at Vilareth’s Ford, allowing them to abandon their hold there to avoid confronting the cultist armies.
The weather had other plans, however, and a severe blizzard set upon us before we could march out. We were almost trapped when it occurred to us that between all our healers using endure elements and Ehren clearing the path as a fire elemental, we might actually be able to turn the storm to our advantage. What followed was a triumph that managed to outstrip that of our victory at Silvershore. Closing on the outskirts of the town, we put deception to use again, convincing the guards at the gate that the approaching army was Commander Hormond’s. With Külə playing himself and Xanderghul’s hat making the disguise believable, I convinced them to allow us in. Were it not for the blinding snow of the storm, the ruse surely never would have worked. We were able to defeat the few guards they had outdoors and funnel nearly the entire army into the town before they realized what had happened. With our army already in their midst, their primary guardians, the Schir fell quickly, and those defenders that rushed out to aid them were subdued as much by the brutal cold as by our soldiers. The entire cavalry forces of the cultists attempted to ride out to meet us, only to fall prey to hypothermia as well. It is likely over a hundred of the cultists died fighting or froze to death attempting to hold us off while our forces enjoyed their magical protection from the elements.
Ayavah and I aided in coordinating the assault and cleanup of the enemy forces while the rest of the group headed off to intercept Brae-Hagen, the enemy commander, son of Terenthal the Balor. They fought a Qlippoth there at the entrance to the mines in which Brae-Hagen had holed up, and defeated the terrible thing. I have only heard stories of them myself, and what Valaria and the others said made it clear that I would prefer they remain stories. Dealing with a snarling mass of self-devouring intestines is not high on my list of things to see in this world. Unfortunately for them, the Qlippoth was swiftly followed by both Brae-Hagen and his Lieutenant, an elven bard who wound up spending most of the fight drowning within Ehren’s Aqueous Orb. Brae-Hagen, on the other hand, was not so easily cowed. Hovering over our party as I arrived, his whip lashed out repeatedly at Ary, his intent clearly to fell the leader of the army they were facing. He almost succeeded in fact. My poor attempt at a diversion aside, the day was saved by the arrival of Valaria and Sosiel. Valaria managed to attract the half-balor’s attention with some well-placed strikes while Sosiel worked on reviving Ary. Somehow Valaria managed to avoid what should have been a nearly fatal blow from Brae-Hagen, and with Brae-Hagen distracted by her disappearance, the others were able to finally finish him off.
In retrospect, while the main battle went well, the fight against Brae-Hagen, his Lieutenant and the Qlippoth was precarious to say the least. With Markus having decided to devote himself to caring for the crusaders, and Ehren’s ability to convert his magic to healing lost somehow during the reincarnation I worry that we are running on borrowed time. Here at least we were able to call upon Sosiel’s help. Should we get into a similar situation on the way to, or in Icerift, we might find ourselves overwhelmed. I will have to think on this further, perhaps Desna will grant me a dream illuminating a solution.
Xanderghul shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think that I have it in me to cast the spell right now. Perhaps tomorrow, if we need it."
Hinagiku had watched in sober silence while Ehren tried to spy on Jorsal through the mirror. Having read about the spell in her book Introduction to magic, she took note of some of the major somatic components used as well as the tone the druid adapted, her pointy ears flickering every so often with interest. Then, when nothing seems to occur she looks at the other ones who were present.
"Then, Jorsal knows someone is looking for him. But not who is, am I right?"
"Ary, should I help with preparing for us to leave to scout Icerift? Any supplies we should need?"
The subject of a mind-affecting spell is always aware that someone attempted to influence their mind, but not of the spell cast nor the caster.
Before the heroes leave, Sosiel pulls Isilme aside. "You asked that I prepare sending, yes? Who do you want me to contact, and what do you want me to say?"
While Isilme and Sosiel speak, Irabeth and Anevia say their goodbyes.
"Come back to me in one piece, little fox," Irabeth murmurs as she pulls her wife in for a last embrace before the heroes embark.
"You don't have to worry about me, beautiful," Anevia winks. After a lingering kiss, Anevia trudges through the snow after Ary and the others.
The heroes embark from Mantarin, Ehren's form melting the snow ahead of them to make it easier to pass and cutting down their travel time considerably. This is a rather conspicuous form of travel, without the cover of snowfall, the steam let off from the rapidly melting snow is visible from a distance.
Despite the fact that the young kellid has never travelled so far north with his own clan, between the inherited memories he gained from the menhir and his own considerable knowledge of the lay of northern Mendev, Ehren serves as a capable guide through the frozen tundra. Using the looming Rimethirst mountains as a guide, the group travels for two hours through the cold snow, moving slowly due to Ehren and Anevia's slowed pace.
"S-sorry, Captain-Commander," mutters Anevia, teeth chattering. "Just haven't felt the same since Silvershore... just so.... drained..."
"Relay this message to Silvershore: 'Prepare to travel tomorrow. Possibly heading to Icerift and need siege. Leave Vilareth non-combatants along with supplies for them. Isilme asks how is Ledsa doing.' Let me know when you have a reply. Thank you for doing this Sosiel."
With that out of the way, Isilme goes to Külə to speak with him briefly. "We will be infiltrating a castle, and we might be in situations where it would be physically impossible for you to follow. Try to take it easy today, as we will likely be fighting near Icerift tomorrow." Turning to go, she adds one last thing with a smile. "If we are not back tonight, you should consider going outside and seeing if you can remember the names of the stars I taught you last night."
Isilme sets out with the others towards Icerift, somewhat disappointed at having to deal with the cold again after a day of benefiting from endure elements. The furs they had received were helpful, but even with the weather cleared the cold was biting. he snow blanketing the ground damped the sounds other than the hiss of steam emenating from Ehren's form and the steady thudding of their footsteps. Despite the cold and the desolation out here, there was a quiet beauty to the snow-covered tundra stretching ahead of them and the Rimethirst mountains standing watch off in the distance. Trekking across the tundra like this brought back memories of many journeys she'd made in the winter, though back then she strode barefoot through the snow, much as Ehren often did now.
Isilme does her best to keep watch as they go, and when she spots several black figures moving towards them in the distance, she warns the others. "Someone is coming, we should be prepared in case they are cultists or demons. In the latter case, any demons that can teleport are first priority, as we must prevent them from warning the rest of their forces of our approach."
"More time walking through the snow. I can't wait until we go back south again." Val pulls her furs tight around herself and stays close to Ehren, both to try to benefit a little from the heat of his elemental form and to be near the head of the group if they run into trouble on their way. The lack of the howling blizzard makes the trip far more... peaceful than their trip to the mines. The pillar of steam is an almost surreal sight compared to the windswept snow fields, and Val absently commits the sight to memory.
"I see them," she mutters at Isilme's warning. "And they certainly see us." One of her knives drops into her hand and she takes a careful stance, not too aggressive, but ready to fight if the new arrivals are hostile.
Ary was incapable of hiding her disappointment; she'd expected... something more flashy than sitting in front of a mirror for an hour.
She wasn't entirely disappointed, however. She felt... better. Relieved even, in regards to her personal choices the day before. She still had her lady's blessing. Or at least it felt that way.
"I'm not sure what to do. Likely, they'll be heading for the village from Jorsal's army. It only makes sense to send troops to deliver a message and request information from Brae-Hagen. I doubt we could set an ambush... or trick them into thinking we're cultists, again."
Should have prepared feather step... Ehren laments as he trudges through the snow. He had started the trek in his fire elemental form, but when it became apparent that the steam it created was all but announcing their presence, he took Isilme's advice and shed it. The druid smiles at Valaria apologetically. ...and more castings of endure elements.
"A demon that could teleport would be a more pragmatic courier," Ehren responds. "Either way, I would suggest approaching them directly. It seems likely that they have already noticed us."
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Hinagiku had been silently traveling right behind Ehren for protection. Every so often, she had to wipe her brow from the droplets of steam which froze on her fur and seem to transform her into a white kitsune all dressed in white. Though she knew getting her outer garments wet and frozen would be fatal to most people in this cold, she trusted the divine protection granted to her by Irori to keep her safe. In turn, she could keep her druid companion safe if they were ambushed.
As she heard Isilme's warning, her pace changed to that she used in battle, and she calmly reached within her bag for her wand.
"No need to trick, just wait for them. They have seen the plume of steam, they might already made their mind as to what to expect. "
Kept from the cold by his magic, Xanderghul marches in the center of the little column that they have going. When Ehren transforms back into human form, however, he speeds up and takes up the head. He's not the strongest, but he'll gladly form his traveler's any-tool into a shovel and take the vanguard. He cranes his neck to look at the creatures ambling towards them. "Somehow, I don't think those are enemies." he says. "Either that or they don't think we're enemies." He scratches his short hair with glittering ruby fingernails. "They'd be coming stealthily or fast if they were expecting a fight, right?"
He shrugs. "Is there anything we want to do before we get to them? I can create an image of a bunch more of us or something. Or we can just trudge forward till we meet them."
"Unless they're abominations..." Ary says dourly, but just shakes her head, when Xanderghul mentions the speed they're traveling.
"I really don't know what to do."
"Let's just keep going, then. We have a job to do, we have our weapons. We don't have anything that we can really do to prepare." Xanderghul shrugs. "If something needs doing, we can do it when the time comes."
"Yer gonna leave your scout behind while you go scout? Well... don't blame me if stuff goes horribly wrong. You know I can totally keep up...huff huff..." she breathes hard as she tries to keep pace with Ary as they exit the town gates. "....Oooooooookay. Fine. Don't go dying on me, Bishop. You know. Again."
Sosiel nods. He exhales, his eyes glazing over as he repeats Isilme's words into the spell. After a moment, he echoes back, "Alright, got in contact with Nurah.... 'Ledsa fine, still pregnant. Happy to hear you're alive. Will prepare siege as requested. Careful with Icerift, old stories say it's cursed.'"
The figures approach closer, revealing them to be a small group of kellids trekking across the snow on large, flat snowshoes. They wear thick furs of grey and white, and wield spears and bows. At their head is a bearded man with silver-streaked dark hair and eyes the color of muddy water. Draped around his shoulders is the pelt of some sort of enormous white cat with long, pointed incisors.
The younger man at his side smirks and mutters, almost inaudibly, "Gweld. Dweud wrthych nad oedd yn geiser."
"Dieithriaid. Beth sy'n dod â chi at ein tiroedd sanctaidd?" asks their leader, ignoring the younger man. His grip on his spear is tight, and he keeps a fair distance between himself and your group.
While 'deheuwr' or 'hwntw' ('Southerner') are typically used as a slur, 'ddieithryn (singular)/diethriaid (plural)' is a more polite term for non-Kellids
"Maent yn edrych yn oer," chuckles the younger man next to him. His jaw is thick with fresh beard, and his face partially obscured by a head full of shaggy, dark hair.
This, on the other hand, is a common Kellid insult.
As indicated by the pelt worn by their leader, these appear to be Kellids of the Roaring Sabretooth Clan. ('Clan Rhuo Dantsaber' in Hallit). They are a xenophobic, nomadic northern tribe of Kellids, numbering no more than 75 in total. Their elite warriors are typically barbarians, known for the shocking battle frenzies that they enter when enraged... though they are especially superstitious.
Xanderghul isn't sure whether to be surprised when they get close enough to discover the identity of the figures. He wasn't entirely sure that too many Kellids still lived up here, after all. Still, he responds in their language. "Rydym yn mynd ar drywydd grŵp o'r cythraul-silio. Mae gwyddonydd bradwr Crusader ac ei greadigaethau yn symud i gymryd un o'n hen gestyll, Icerift."
@Anevia: "It's what I do. I'll be back, regardless." She says with a grim smile. "And I'm not leaving my scout behind, I'm letting my scout have a chance to recover."
- - - -
Ary looks visibly relieved at the appearance of the Kellids, rather than some hulking monstrosity or demon or even Tiefling. She follows along, but doesn't trust her Hallit in the same way that she trusts her Celestial. One had been a matter of need, the other of desire, which had left her capabilities much lessened in the former. She simply nods along to Xanderghul's explanation, before adding to the younger man, "Mae hynny oherwydd ei fod yn oer," with a self-deprecating smirk.
"Siaredir fel gwir Deheuwr. Efallai y dylech fynd adref at eich aelwydydd a gwelyau plu, gadewch tir balch hwn i ryfelwyr wir," says the young man, barking with laughter.
A woman with bright hazel eyes glances from Xanderghul to Ehren, noting his attire. "Tawel, Cynfael, onid ydych yn gweld eu bod yn teithio gyda offeiriad o'r Gwyrdd?" she says, smacking him in the shoulder with the shaft of her spear.
Cynfael snorts, looking at Ehren skeptically. After a moment, he mumbles, "Hmph. Mae fy ymddiheuriadau, derwydd." He doesn't sound particularly sincere.
"Rydych yn gwastraffu eich amser. Mae'r rhai addolwyr chythraul gorymdeithio at eu beddau. Dylech droi yn ôl, teithio adref at eich tiroedd gynnes," responds their leader, speaking loudly over his younger clan-mates. They both get the message and shut up.
Xanderghul cocks his head at the strange statement that their leader made. "Oh. Allwch chi esbonio? A yw'r castell llenwi â angenfilod peryglus?" He wonders about whether the Castle was the type of place that they had avoided for generations out of habit, or whether there was actually a group of particular monsters in there.
He crosses his arms and locks the Hallits with a cautious look. "Os ydym yn ceisio i fynd, a ydych yn mynd i roi'r gorau i ni? Ni fyddai'n gwneud i ni dim ond mynd ag ef ar ffydd nad oedd y cythraul-silio yn fygythiad. Os ydynt yn cael eu mor doomed fel y dywedwch, mae angen dim ond ychydig oriau i wirio."
"If we try to go, are you going to stop us? It would not do for us to simply take it on faith that the demon-spawn are not a threat. If they are as doomed as you say, we need only a few hours to check."
It is said that long ago, Icerift Castle fell to demons, and has been abandoned ever since.
In the early spring of the year 4629 AR, Lord Pernigrais, the second blessed commander of the newly founded city of Drezen, received orders to take his battalion, the Griffon's Watch, to establish a new fortress in northern Mendev. The new castle was intended to be one link in a chain of fortresses along Mendev's western border, each one housing and protecting a wardstone.
In addition to his own 200 soldiers, Pernigrais was accompanied by a small crew of dwarven architects and nearly 40 stalwart stonemasons, all left to his charge. Pernigrais and his charges arrived during the spring thaw, and their initial attempts to construct a cliff-side fortification met with disaster when the construction triggered a rockslide. Undeterred, they waited until the weather warmed, then relaunched their efforts. By early fall, they had progressed quickly on the structure, but again tragedy struck. The winter snows fell early, slowing construction and cutting off their supply routes. Though their stores of food were full, enough to last the winter at least, there was no way to finish the construction. They were forced to secure what they had and tie down what they could before the full wrath of winter fell upon them. The winter came long, and hard, and Pernigrais lost almost a third of his troops to sickness and the biting cold.
During the same winter, authorities in Nerosyan concluded that Icerift was too remote and the weather too unpredictable to be safely supplied and maintained. That spring, Queen Galfrey sent a small patrol to Icerift to help Pernigrais close down the castle and escort the remainder of his troops and building crew back to Kenabres.
Upon their arrival, the queen's soldiers found the gates locked, and no guards came to receive them. They called out, and after receiving no answer, decided to send a few climbers to scale the walls. The climbers were unprepared to face the sight of the horrific slaughter within. Frost-rimed corpses were scattered everywhere, even lying in the bailey and impaled upon towers and ramparts. Entrails streamed from the brutally hacked up carcasses, and jagged, broken bones poked through the savaged flesh. Great arcs of gore were splattered across the courtyards and the keep's buildings, staining the snowdrifts almost black with blood.
No one survived. The castle was abandoned, the troops raced back to Kenabres. Upon hearing their reports, the leaders of the Crusades branded Icerift a taboo area and chalked the massacre up to an invading demonic party. Icerift remains abandoned to this day.
"Mae'r henoed yn dweud bod amser maith yn ôl, daeth ryfelwyr croesgadwr yma i goncro yr oerfel. Ond mae'r oerfel yn eu gorchfygu. Maent yn ymyrryd yn â hynny na ddylid ei ymyrryd yn - ein menhir sanctaidd - ac am eu trachwant dinistrio y gwyrdd yn eu lle maent yn sefyll. Hyd yn oed y ceffylau, hyd yn oed eu cŵn," says the leader, his voice grave and his expression serious.
"Mae ein pobl yn teithio ar hyd mynyddoedd sanctaidd hyn, ond hyd yn oed nad ydym yn hoffi i lechu yma. Mae pobl yn diflannu o'u gwelyau yn y nos, y swynol synau o corn rhyfedd gellir eu clywed drwy'r nos. ysbrydion drwg yn byw yma. Mae ein henoed yn eu galw 'Maen nhw'n Pwy Cerddwch ar y Gwynt'"
"Ni fyddwn yn ceisio rhoi'r gorau i chi, dieithriaid, ond yn cymryd sylw. Os ydych lechu yma, byddwch yn marw," he concludes.
"The elders say that long ago, crusader warriors came here to conquer the cold. But the cold conquered them. They meddled with that which should not be meddled - our holy menhir - and for their greed the Green destroyed them where they stood. Even the horses, even their dogs."
"Our people travel all along these holy mountains, but even we do not like to linger here. People disappear from their tents when they sleep, the haunting sounds of a strange horn can be heard through the night. Evil spirits live here. Our elders call them 'They Who Walk on the Wind'"
"We will not try to stop you, Southlanders, but take heed. If you linger here, you will die."
The woman at his side hesitates for a moment, before adding, "Rydym yn nodi yma yn chwilio am rai o'n hunain ... pedwar o'n ryfelwyr gorau diflannu tra'n cadw gwyliadwriaeth nos. Mae'n debygol eu bod eisoes wedi marw, neu'n ildiodd at y gwallgofrwydd, ond un yn ferch i ein Clan-Liege. Ac felly rydym yn chwilio, ond hyd yn oed ni fyddwn yn lechu drwy'r nos."
"We're out here looking for some of our own... four of our best warriors vanished while keeping watch in the night. It is likely that they are already dead, or succumbed to the madness, but one was the daughter of our Clan-Liege. And so we search, but even we will not linger here through the night."
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Ary briefly wonders if she'd misunderstood the young man when he told her to return to the kitchen and bed. It seemed a rather sexist thing to suggest, given that he had a woman in the group with him... so she let it go, not fully grasping all of Hallit's nuances of yet.
She understood the idea of ghosts and haunted castles, though. They'd... dealt with a lesser form of that, with the temple to Torag all those months ago. Was it months? Or just weeks? It felt like years, sometimes... being dead could really skew your perceptions of time. She wondered if it was the same for the dead of Icerift.
Xanderghul listens to what the Kellids have to say and he hums and haws. Not totally sure what to conclude yet, and knowing that they still have to visit Icerift, Xanderghul simply keeps silent.
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"Mae hyd yn oed y gwyntoedd gogleddol yn gwybod i ofni clan yn rhuo dannedd sabr, felly hyd yn oed y dyddiau oeraf oes unrhyw cyfatebol ar gyfer eich gwerin," she responds to the Kellids respectfully, knowing that words of flattery could find cracks in doors even the coldest drafts could not.
Given that the clan was decidedly Xenophobic, deference and awe were likely to ease their guard as much as could be expected. Certainly having Ehren present as well was a great boon, though she felt it best to allow him to introduce himself. Allowing a 'deheuwr' to speak for a priest of the green might be taken as a sign of the druid's weakness or of being tainted by outsiders.
"Yma mae gan fy cydymaith hawl iddo, rhaid i ni gael gwybod beth sy'n digwydd yng nghastell Icerift. A fyddech yn barod i rannu yr hyn a wyddoch y castell ac y lluoedd cythraul pwy warchae hi?"
"My companion here has the right of it, we must find out what is happening in Icerift castle. Would you be willing to share what you know of the castle and of the demon forces who siege it?"
She listens as they explain that crusaders had come to build the castle, and somehow had been cursed in so doing. Hearing that reminded her of the story she had heard of Icerift shortly after the founding of Drezen.
She turns to the group, mulling the story over in her head. "I had almost forgotten..." she says, "They are right, the second commander of Drezen, Pernigrais, took a group of dwarven architects and stonemasons along with a sizable force to attempt to find Icerift. No one knows exactly what happened, but at some point, while trapped their through an exceedingly harsh winter, they were all slaughtered. The scouts who returned reported gruesome sights within the castle. The command chalked the loss up to demons, a reasonable guess due to the horrific nature of what must have occured there. If Ser Jorsal is having to approach cautiously, however, there may have been something else at work there originally. Perhaps the crusaders did manage to awake something that did not take kindly to their presence?"
"Diolch i chi am rannu hynny gyda ni," she says to the Kellids, bowing politely.
"We might be able to help them find their clan liege. What do you think Ehren? If one of us suggested it, we would be laughed at at best, and they might even be insulted by the idea." she whispers to the group through the magic of her message spell.
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"I remember that story," Val says after a moment. "They were crippled by a winter with no supplies and illness that killed dozens of men before the attack even came. It was a slaughter, with the men torn apart and their bodies displayed like macabre artwork. Heads on spikes, entrails all over the floor, the works. I thought the reports of a demon attack made sense when I read it. There's little reason for anyone else to attack with so much hate and their teleportation could bypass the winter snows. But if the demons are just as afraid..."
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Ehren relaxes considerably when he realizes who they are dealing with, but remains slightly guarded. It was fair to say that most Kellids distrusted arcane and even divine magics, yet Clan Roaring Sabertooth still managed to be exceptional in that regard. Upsetting them, or worse, angering them, would be a fatal error. Fortunately, their group was savvy enough to avoid any faux pas.
The druid is quiet at first, listening to the clansman's story with a troubled expression. While their superstition could be coloring their perception, he knew that to dismiss their warning entirely would be folly. As horrible as the castle's history was, it was not difficult to see the seed of truth. Hearing Isilme's words in his ear, Ehren nods slowly before speaking.
"Ni allwn droi yn ôl yn awr. Ond ni fydd y naill i ni farw yma," he starts, stepping forward. "Byddwn yn eich helpu i chwilio am eich pobl ar goll. Os yw'n fel y dywedwch, yna gallai ein chwiliad yn dda yn mynd â ni at yr un lle."
"We will help you search for your missing people. If it as you say, then our search might well take us to the same place."
Cynfael beams with pride at Isilme. "Yn naturiol, gall ein clan oroesi'r gaeaf mwyaf llym."
"Naturally, our clan can weather the harshest winter."
"Ie wrth gwrs. Os ydych yn dod ar ein cyfeillion, byddem byth yn eich dyled," says their leader to Ehren.
The kellids take their leave, ambling across the snow with their snowshoes. They are headed in the opposite direction, for now. The bearded man offers one final piece of advice - "Derwydd, eraill o'ch math wedi ceisio dawelu tiroedd hyn ... er eich mwyn eich hun, peidiwch â aros dros nos."
"Yes, of course. If you come upon our friends, we would forever be in your debt."
"Druid, others of your kind have tried to appease these lands... for your own sake, don't stay the night."
Wendigos afflict those nearby with horrific nightmares and infect others with wendigo psychosis, a psychological ailment that drives people into cannibalism.
As the group mulls over and talks about what happened up at Icerift, and the missing people, Xanderghul recalls a creature he had studied while at the Grand Lodge. Wendigos had been responsible for the disappearance or death of many Pathfinders in arctic environments, and were powerful and evil creatures. Icy mountains and missing people went with wendigos fairly well, but dozens casually and bloodily slaughtered doesn't quite fit.
Without putting the possibility aside entirely, Xanderghul's mind shifts to over theories, and he sets himself a mental reminder to share his thoughts with his companions when they leave the Kellids behind.
The man's parting words elicit from Ehren a shudder that not even the harshest chill could bring out. There was a very real sense of fear there, beyond simple superstition.
Others of my kind have tried... and failed, he thinks, giving the Kellids a parting nod before they turn to leave; an acknowledgement of their warning. For a moment he is lost in thought, drumming his fingers against the charwood staff. The druid's resolve was not shaken, but beneath the surface, there was the eking sense that his own words had been spoken not with confidence, but with bravado.
"He was wrong about one thing," Ehren says finally, once Clan Roaring Sabertooth has left. "Whatever happened here back then was not the will of the Green." He looks to the others with a frown. "We should tread carefully."
"It wouldn't be the first time one of your people had been fooled by a darker power pretending to represent the will of the Green." Val pointedly looks at the staff in Ehren's hands. "Let's move on and hope that we can deal with it. Before Jorsal can do the same and take the fortress for himself."
During the whole encounter, Hinagiku had worn her cloak over her eyes, and her scarf high: she did not want anyone they met to think she was some sort of oni. And, considering she could not understand Hallit at all, all she had had to do during the conversation was politely nod at them once they came and step aside to let her companions speak in her place.
Hinagiku approaches Ehren, curious to know, in truth, what her appearance would
"Mr. Ehren, I have been wondering, what would your people think of my vulpine form? I ask because I am afraid that remaining in it when we meet some of them might make them think that I am a .. demon. Or, do you think they would be more likely to see me as a forest spirit? Or maybe worst, a kitsune trickster?"
Ehren looks to Mother Heartwood, reminded the promise he made. "You're right. I just hope that we make it in time. This land and its people have enough troubles to deal with as is."
"I am not entirely sure," Ehren admits, picking up on the obvious fact that Hinagiku was currently in her fox form. He had grown so used to her new forms that the difference barely seemed to register with him. "My understanding is that kitsune are almost unheard of in this region. Before we were reincarnated, I never even knew that they existed. Though, for all I know, I suppose that I could have met several of them without ever even knowing it," he muses with a brief smile. Realizing that he is dodging the question, his mouth turns back into a frown. "Sorry. My guess is that many of them would view you as they see Valaria or Markus. Perhaps worse if they realize that you can blend in among them so easily. Ignorance breeds hate, after all."
"I'm sure that we can handle whatever it is." says Xanderghul. "Besides, we won't know one way or the other until we actually get up this mountain and to see for ourselves. We can be careful, though, and look out for invisible natural abominations that rip people limb from limb."