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Isilme stops in her tracks as she hears Variska go after Ehren. Her mind, still in its trance-state swims with ideas relating to the situation they found themselves in. Curse, curse, curse... she thinks, wondering why she felt like she was forgetting something. In her minds eye, symbols swam before her, arranging themselves slowly into a pattern. One she recalled... Familiar... What is it? she thinks again before she is overcome by a flash of insight. Digging quickly into her pack, she pulls out a scroll case and pulls out several scrolls half way, looking at them briefly before deciding upon one. Yes, that is the one!
Not bothering to worry about the noise of her casting due to the dire situation, Isilme begins chanting the final phrases to finish the casting of the scroll she had produced. As she finishes, the scroll flashes and turns to dust, unleashing a bolt of energy which strikes Variska on the forehead dead on.
Variska's eyes slowly come into focus, as her mind's fog clears. "...Oh gods. Oh gods. I'm so sorry." She covers her face in her hands as she starts to sob with shame. "I don't know what came over me."
1. Ayavah (1 NL, -3 STR, -2 CON, -3 CHA)
2. Valaria (Blur [90])
3. Variska (Grazed, fatigued)
4. Isilme (EE, -1 STR, -3 CHA, -4 CON, Arcane Pool [35], Blur [95]) <---- You're up!
5. Ehren (greater longstrider, EE, -3 STR, 1 CON, -2 CHA)
6. Xanderghul (EE, longstrider, mirror image [1], -1 STR, -3 CHA)
7. Ary (EE, longstrider, fatigued, blur [92])
8. Hinagiku (EE, Blur [96])
Combat ends!
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"Nice work," Val says as Isilme's magic frees the former prisoner's mind. She walks over to the woman and puts a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. You weren't in control of your own actions. It's not your fault. No one even got hurt. Please, try to take a deep breath and calm yourself."
Variska nods meekly, rubbing her face with her hands. She centers herself with a few deep breaths. "Ugh. This place. We gotta get out of this place. Where is it that you guys want to go? Maybe we should get moving?"
Seeing that the spell had worked, Isilme breathes a deep sigh of relief. "Surely my Lady Starsong is watching over us... and you," she says with a slight smile towards Variska.
"Let us not dawdle now, I feel that we must move quickly and leave this place before nightfall if at all possible. There is no guarantee that the wendigo will not attempt to punish us for depriving it of the pleasure of seeing Variska turn," she says.
"Agreed. Let's not stick around to see if it comes to cause us trouble. Now, I believe we were heading toward the menhir, yes?"
"Yes, unless anyone objects," Isilme says, packing away her scroll case and resuming her movement towards the Menhir.
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Ehren was already well aware of the fact that he was the only other human present. Even so, he was not prepared for the animalistic desperation that Variska attacked him with. Fortunately, his friends had his back – the madwoman never even comes close to having a taste of him. He could only look upon his assailant with remorse, knowing that things could only end in tragedy for her. Her curse was all but unbreakable. He never had the chance to say so aloud, but perhaps Isilme took it as a challenge regardless. In the blink of an eye, with a spell Ehren was only vaguely familiar with, the bard had broken the curse.
The druid stands there numbly for a moment, watching as Variska, evidently cured of her madness, breaks down. It is not until Valaria moves to comfort her that he dares to blink, for fear of missing some other incredible development. Ehren could not help but to smile at their good fortune… but it is not a smile that lasts very long. For one, there was the nagging regret that he was ready to give up on Variska so easily. But more importantly, Isilme’s recitation had caused something to stir within him, giving him the familiar sensation of knowing something he shouldn’t.
“Isilme is right… We should make haste. I fear we’ve treaded on the territory of an ancient foe. One we have no chance of defeating.”
"I... don't really think we have time for stealth. And, I don't believe taking out the boss is going to be a thing we can do. I don't want to leave the others trapped as they are, but..." she frowns for a moment.
"Dammit." she says, shaking her head. "It's worse than that. Every person here has been here for the Wendigo's howling. Anyone we leave alive could become a monster themselves..." she trails off, wishing she hadn't put all of that together somehow. "We can't just let that happen." she says, looking towards the skywalk leading to the caged prisoners.
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"Only those who have been visited with the Wendigo's nightmares will have been exposed. It is certainly possible, however, that every one of them have been already," she says coldly. Part of her realized that if Variska survived this, it could be the catalyst that causes her to achieve greatness... or to fall into shadows. To every Raelis this was, while not 'good' per se, the start of something exciting. Still seeing it now, seeing her have attempted to devour Ehren was different. She was no longer a detached narrator, she was part of the story, and that changed things significantly.
For now she needed to focus, as did they all. The risks they faced here were likely the greatest they ever had, and failure likely meant a fate worse than death. "We should still attempt to move quietly, but I agree that we must move quickly. Allow me to scout further ahead and I will do so with the required alacrity."
Taking a moment, she prays to the Song of Spheres to guide her footsteps and speed her on her travels. When she finishes, she takes off quickly, her newfound speed having seemingly no effect on the care taken in each step to avoid alerting their foes.
Round 41!
Isilme scouts out ahead of the party, while the rest of the group slowly lags behind. The heroes set off along the grisly skywalks, the structures swaying slightly underneath their combined weight, but they show no signs of collapsing - surprising, given their strange construction - wood laced with bone, woven together with entrails that spans the gaps of the stonework. Hides of various creatures - some obviously humanoid - patch up the gaps in some places.
They pass by the large front gates,connected to the barbicans by a large stone stairway. The structure isn't fitted with a portcullus. Instead, the huge, gaping stone archway opens directly into the inner bailey. The arch is decorated with ravaged corpses hung from the parapets.
Small towers flank the arch. Hideous faces of decomposing bison have been carved into the facades of both towers, creating unnerving, leering totem poles.
Enchanted with her bardic magic, Isilme moves quickly ahead of the party, crossing the skybridges onto the siege walls. She moves around the siege tower, crouching below the crenellations for cover to peer at the bailey below. The eastern side of the castle appears completely devoid of wikkawaks - their disinterest in this region of the castle is evidenced by the enormous snowdrifts that have accumulated here along the walls and around the tower bases.
The eastern side of the bailey contains two constructions - the skeleton of a large, half-finished keep that appears to have been left in utter disarray. To the east of that is a small, squat, single story stone building with a steep roof. Isilme cannot see the doors to it from here. The rest of the bailey is littered with small, mostly defunct wooden constructions.
Peering down from the siege tower she is at, Isilme notes that the base of the tower is completely consumed by a deep drift of snow. The top of it appears to be soft powder, but it conceals the door to the bailey, nonetheless. Looking eastward, she notes a smaller cylindrical siege tower whose door should be accessible.
To slow to react in time to stop Variska from reaching her blade, Hinagiku had done her best to wade through the snow and reach the woman before she could attack the druid again. Yet, Valaria and Isilme, as quick as lighting, had both stopped her and broken her curse.
Now, the monk gently lays a comforting hand on the sobbing woman, handing her back the sword she’d dropped.
”Don’t be sorry, don’t feel guilty, it was a curse, and it is lifted now.” she whispers to Variska.
Just before they start following Isilme, Hinagiku approaches Ary. ”Ary, there is no way to know about the other prisoners, they might still be sane… we will only know once we reach them… until then, no need to worry about” she says, trying to alleviate the woman’s worries. She then glances over to the escapee following them .before speaking to the commander ”Would you have aration for her? I am thinking that with the curse broken, she might finally be able to ingest something. ”
"Yeah, of course." Ary says, digging into her normal bag after stowing her sword, thankful for something she could do . "Take your time. It's yours. You can stay here, or come with us... though I think the latter is a better idea.
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Xanderghul loads another bolt into his crossbow, following after the group. He was just as surprised that Isilme happened to have a scroll that accomplished the right task as he was that her usage of it actually worked.
He was eager to get going with their task, though, and hurry to get out. The menhir drama was very tempting, but he also knew that every minute they spent in the castle was another minute closer to the wikkawak army returning and wrecking their shit. At least they could hide in the menhir castle area if the wikkawaks returned, it was unlikely that they would be pursued in there. Worst-case scenario, they could signal for their own army to come and save them, and both Xanderghul and Ehren could leave the castle to support them.
Well, actually... worst-case scenario, the menhir castle was the wendigo's hiding space, and the group ran right into him by surprise while exploring, and they were all ripped limb-from-limb by an evil spirit representative of cannibalism. Xanderghul comforts himself with the knowledge that he, a member of a very unique species, would starve from hunger long before becoming a wendigo himself.
With Isilme moving ahead, Val sticks with the group and moves out toward their destination at the front, ready for more guards or something else to jump out at them.
Isilme continues on around the building and crouches down at the southeast corner, scanning the area below for any signs of movement. Once she is certain that there is no obvious threat, she whispers through her spell to them. "I see the building, head around to the left and we will continue down the walls until we reach a tower with stairs down"
With that she waits until she sees the group begin to round the corner, keeping a close watch on the area in the meantime.
Variska gladly accepts Ary's trail ration - she doesn't scarf it down, this time, taking her time as if worried she would vomit again. "Th-thank you," she says, once she is finished. "I'll stick with you guys. I don't want to be alone here."
Round 42!
You catch a few snippets of her past - she was born in a far-away land, to the east, past Brevoy. Her parents were decent, hard-working folk - until a sickness came and took most of her family and village. She set off alone, after that, and through plenty of trial and error, she succeeded in a ever changing world. After gaining some friends and mentors she struck out as a mercenary and guard-for-hire.
Overall your impression of her is that she is a good, if a little self-centered, person. Though she was captured with another, she is unconcerned with saving his life, only her own.
The heroes circle around the corner, catching up with Isilme.
With the group mostly caught up, and no obvious signs of movement, Isilme begins heading down around the wall ahead of the group, keeping low to the ground and watching intently for any signs of habitation within this section of the castle.
Round 46!
Isilme doesn't see anything in the bailey, nor does she hear anything amiss. She makes it to the next watchtower - the door to which is cracked ajar. Peeking within into the dimly lit room, she doesn't see anyone around. Sunlight streams in from cracks in the broken ceiling, and a spiral staircase leads down to the bailey. On the other side of the room is another door, leading back out to the siege wall.
Not seeing anyone yet, Isilme beckons everyone forwards a bit. The group begins to slowly navigate the snow-covered perimeter of the castle.
"Everyone move up, we will head down the stairs here," she calls to the others through message. While she waits for the others to reach the tower, she cracks the door open ever so slowly, peering into the room, listening and looking for any signs of movement.
Round 53!
Isilme waits for the others to catch up to the tower. She cracks the door open to the watchtower, and listens hard for any signs of life. Satisfied that they are alone, she slowly and silently walks down the stairs. Once at the ground floor, she creaks the door open and peers out through the crack. She sees the eastern wall of the keep and several broken down wooden shacks in the bailey. To the south, she sees the small building which Ehren had indicated the wardstone was in, though she cannot see the door.
So close to their destination, Isilme frets. The trip here had been easy, and perhaps the wikkawaks avoided this area out of superstition,
but it could be something far worse, and she had no real way to detect things that could not be sensed by sight, sound or smell. "Ehren, Hinagiku, do either of you get any sensation of wrongness now? Is it stronger? From here we should be extra cautious, and it would be good if both if you let us know if you sensed anything amiss."
The ley thrums powerfully here, surging up and throughout the mountain to the very top of its peak here at Icerift. You feel a strange sensation - like a tugging at your navel - urging you towards the little squat stone building below you. Its difficult at this point to think of much else, easily overwhelming whatever feelings of anxiety or fear you may have in regards to the wendigo or the demonic and goblinoid armies just down the mountain.
At Isilme's comment you clear your mind and inhale, feeling the chi of the world around you. You are filled with a sense of desperation, intermingled with fleeting thoughts of regret.
Ehren shudders as he follows the rest of the group, not from the cold, but from the sheer anticipation of approaching the menhir. At first, he is at least aware of the fact that his behavior is being influenced by the ley. He wonders whether he would have been able to resist the urge to reach the menhir during his scouting mission, had he attempted to land anywhere near it. But as they draw closer to the squat little building, even these thoughts are overwhelmed. Ehren licks his lips, thankful that he has enough self control to avoid just barreling to the building.
"I can feel the ley drawing me toward it," he replies after a brief delay, keeping some semblance of rational thought. "Its influence is growing stronger the closer we get. But nothing is amiss. Not that I can tell, at least."
Noticing Ehren's discomfort as he gets closer to the building and lays a reassuring hand on his back, a gentle smile appearing on the corner of her lips. Only then does the monk close her eyes and let the feeling from the world penetrate her mind. After a moment, she slowly opens then back.
"Earlier, I heard the land crying out... I thought it was my mother speaking to me, telling me how sad she was of what had transpired here... but now I am feeling regret and despair. I don't know what it could mean... either the spirit that the World took it is feeling regret at hurting her protector... or maybe it was the menhir all along whom had been betrayed. Either way, I feel like we are needed, that we might not be in as much danger as I thought. Still be careful miss Isilme."
"Then let's keep moving. If there's something here that's calling for help, we should investigate and hope for the best."
"Very well, everyone keep a look out in case anything approaches from behind us." Opening the door quietly, Isilme heads out, encouraging the others to file out after her as quietly as they can. Getting too far ahead of the group at this point worried her, as there was precious little distance between them and the menhir building, and line of sight was obscured by the building itself.
She hangs a right and heads around the tower towards the sharper corner of the building, easing up to the corner quietly and peering around it.
Round 56!
Isilme peers around the corner of the stone building and sees no one on that side of the courtyard, either. The snow is pristine, except for her footprints behind her. The wooden door to the building is partially visible, though it is buried in a thick layer of snow.
"Xanderghul, can you check the door?" she says as she gestures everyone to come around. "The rest of us can clear snow out of the way while he does that."
Isilme walks over to the door and takes a quick look around before trying to figure out how best to move snow out of the way. "Any ideas for clearing the snow quickly?"
Round 62!
Xanderghul walks around the corner of the building and intones the words for detect magic, then scrutinizes the door carefully. As he works, the rest of the heroes circle around the building to catch up with Isilme. After a few moments he exhales.
"To belabour a point, the menhir is obviously in there. Its aura is blinding. But I'm not picking anything else up, not on the door or otherwise."
He pulls out his traveler's any-tool. "I can transform this into a shovel, if we're going to do this the long way."
Ehren fidgets slightly, uncharacteristically incensed by the fact that such a mundane obstacle was barring their way to the menhir. Noting Xanderghul's comment about its magical aura, he opens his own spirit sense and peers the stone through the door.
"Well, if you're volunteering..." he responds to the wizard absentmindedly. Paying little heed to the fact that they were in an enemy stronghold, he suggests, "We could use fire again. That would be substantially faster. I suppose the steam could be a problem, however.
"Or I could summon some badgers to do the work for us."
"I believe we are all agreed that time is of the essence now, so whatever you think will take the least effort on your part while saving us time would be good, Ehren. I do not believe visible signals will be as large a risk here as wasting time will."
Your spirit sense does not detect anything unusual beyond the door.
Evidently requiring nothing else in the way of encouragement, Ehren approaches the door, his body shrinking down into a waddling ball of flame in mid-stride. Already accustomed to using this form's heat to clear a path for the army, he plunges himself into the pile of snow, paying no heed to the familiar hiss of steam forming around him.
Ehren' molten hot body melts the surrounding snow in a matter of seconds, releasing clouds of white steam that release up and away into the clear skies. The snow clears, reveal a pair of wooden doors. The right is engraved with the likeness of the Inheritor, sword drawn, while the left is engraved with the image of Torag, Father of Creation, so that the two gods stand side by side, gazing down at any who would enter.
Round 63!
"Let's head inside. Maybe it will be a little warmer..." Val checks the door, then tries to open it to peek inside.
"After you, Xanderghul." Isilme says, gesturing towards the door. She knew his ability to spot magical traps would come in useful here, just in case someone had sealed or rigged the door. After all, the last two ornate doors they had encountered had been a puzzle and a mimic respectively.
While he goes over the door, she also gives it a once over, looking for anything odd.
Xanderghul scrutinizes the door along with Isilme and Valaria. The three fail to find anything amiss and so Valaria very carefully opens the doors. The doors pull outward to reaveal a small, dark, shabby room - nothing like the wardstone chambers in Kenabres or Fort Portolmaeus. In the center, illuminated by the light coming off from Ehren's fiery little body, is a tall, rectangular slab of stone. It is lumpy and slightly misshapen - evidently the crusaders did not have time for the necessary rituals to convert it into a proper wardstone.
Ehren exhales when the stone comes into view, unable to help but to feel a sense of awe. Standing before him was a menhir that was not only active, but that was wholly unmodified from its original form. From its original purpose. Never before had he ever seen one of its kind... unless he counted Hinagiku, of course. But she was in a category of her own.
Not content to approach the stone in anything less than his true form, his fire elemental body goes up in smoke, extinguishing the light in the chamber. Regardless, Ehren wordlessly approaches the menhir and lays a single hand against its surface. The druid closes his eyes, ready to receive the stone's wisdom. And, if possible, to impart what he had taken from the Kenabres wardstone, as his father had suggested.
After letting the others in Hinagiku follows in the steps. Inside, she has to take to take a series of deep breaths, her heart starting to beat faster, curiosity tugging at her. Her tail and ears twitch every so often while she does her best not to let emotions disturb her pool of inner peace any further.
To steady herself, she takes a long look over the others assembled here, trying to read where she stands, what her role should be. Then, turning around, she opens the door leading outside ajar, just enough to keep vigil.
Ary bows her head slightly to each door, leaving her head bowed a moment longer to the Inheritor than her allied god, before moving in with the others. She didn't really know what to expect - her own knowledge a mishmash of religion and nature and the otherworldly didn't quite come anywhere near Ehren's - or even Hinagiku's - understanding of the current situation. Even still, she stayed close to Ehren as he moved forward, prepared to defend him if something were to go horrifically wrong.
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Round 66!
Ehren wordlessly lays his hand, palm and fingers outstretched, on the menhir's surface. The stone is large and imposing - its sheer presence awe-inspiring. To the observers gathered around here, nothing particularly interesting happens.
When you reach out to touch the menhir, the ley beneath your feet surges upwards into the cool stone - a feeling similar to when you invoke the ley to enhance your magic, except greater by several orders of magnitude. It's a feeling similar to when you touched the stone at Fort Portolmaeus so many months ago, but you're stronger now, more experienced. You brace yourself for the flood of information that invades your mind - a catalog of information from generations of druids who have lived here in the Rimethirst mountains, and the knowledge that they have stored here in the menhir stone for the druids who would come after them. Much of it is mundane - information about the migratory habits of the local wildlife, catalogs of local plant life and their medicinal properties, census data of many generations of the Roaring Sabretooth clan (as well as other local nomadic clans).
You concentrate, sifting through the flood of information to the core - a literal homing beacon begging for you to access it.
Finally - a voice speaks to you in Druidic - "Draoi, d'fhreagair tú ar deireadh ár n-glaoch. An adharc. Faigh an adharc. Scriosadh é. Ais cothromaíocht."
"Druid, you have at last answered our call. The horn. Find the horn. Destroy it. Restore balance."
Your mind is filled with images of a small horn, carved from a mammoth tusk. The images of the horn vanish, replaced with those of a monster. A horrible creature, human-shaped with a bison's head filled with jagged teeth. Its humanoid legs end in blackened, burnt stumps. It is chained. Chained to the horn.
You understand that the horn is a powerful artifact - it cannot be destroyed using mundane means. You see a vision of yourself channeling the ley to destroy it, once and for all, and banishing the monster deep into the mountains.
The image changes, and you feel jerked out of your body - scrying on another. You're inside a large ice cavern. Half-eaten corpses of numerous humanoids, including wikkawaks, lay piled in the corners of the room. Decorated with furs, skins, and various pieces of fine furniture - the room appears to be a treasure horde filled with prized possessions - gold, gems, and some more grisly tokens.
In the center of the room is an old wikkawak crone. She has a dreamy look on her face as she gently caresses the horn, murmuring softly to herself and smiling.
Another wikkawak comes into her room, armored like the ones you fought on the skywalks outside of the castle. Her smile vanishes. The pair have a quick conversation in a language you don't understand - at the end of it the armored wikkawak leaves, but the wikkawak crone remains where she is, apparently reluctant to leave her treasures unattended.
After a moment of watching her, unnoticed, you snap back to reality. The voice continues to repeat itself in your head - "Faigh an adharc. Scriosadh é. Find the horn. Destroy it."
Walking into the room is akin to sinking into a warm bath after a long, hard day. The chi of the earth infuses the room and the stone - the energy is as palpable to you as the sunlight outside, or the air you breathe. Its all around you, surrounding you, seeking to become one with you, and you with it. You can feel the soreness in your muscles start to subside, the wound you gained from the encounter with the wikkawaks healing over into fresh, clean flesh. Even the wound you keep hidden under your bandages seems to throb less here. It's calming, and fills you with a sense of peace.
When Ehren reaches out to touch the menhir stone, you can feel the chi surge around the room. Your vision goes white, and you feel yourself transported to another place.
You feel your body melt away - you as yourself no longer exists, instead you are omnipresent - the world is you and you are the world.
You witness from afar the massacre that happened here at Icerift so many years ago. You witness Icerift from high above, as if you were part of the wind, the sky. Icerift back then was a busy fortress, filled with soldiers, workers, dwarves.
You hear it first - a low, and doleful howl rising from the distance - but you feel no fear at the noise. The soldiers below, though - they are afraid. The fear creeps into their flesh and nearly bursts their hearts with terror. Some of the soldiers leap from the wall, one officer plummeting to his death on the stones below, another breaking both his legs.
They send out a search party for any survivors. They find one, and the soldiers' healers try to help him. Both of his legs are broken. They set his limbs, and give him medicines to ease the pain. Eventually he passes out. After several days of suffering, he begins convulsing in his sleep. One of the priests tries to calm him... but the soldier awakens in a crazed state, viciously biting his face, tearing out a chunk of his right cheek and falling upon him in a cannibalistic frenzy. The screams drew others to the cleric's aid. Though they tried to pull the crazed soldier from him, by the time they pried him loose, he had nearly devoured half the cleric's body. In a burst of unnatural strength, the frenzied man hoists himself up on his broken legs and runs at full speed... he lifts into the air as his legs burn off, leaving only charred and blackened stumps.
All around, the castle begins to fall into chaos, as their fellow soldiers go mad and are overtaken with cannibalistic madness. Many are eaten. Some, rather than face their mad foes, simply leap off the mountain to the cliffs below. No one survives.
Your heart is filled with sadness and pity at the scene below. It is normal, of course, for predators to eat prey. But this....this is wrong. This is horrible, perverted. This is not how the world should be. You want to help.
You cry out to the mountains, begging for anyone, anyone to come help. You know how to drive the beast away - but you cannot do it alone.
Many hear your call - druids from the local mountain clans, mostly. They try to come and help. But they die. Killed or driven mad by the wendigo.
Finally, someone hears you. They come to the menhir stone. A woman. Her name is Ugmitok. She is a bugbear of the northern tribes, a druid. She heard your call, and mesmerized by it, answered it.
You're thrilled. You care not for her appearance - you do not judge anyone based on race or creed. All living things are equal in your eyes. You pour your knowledge into her, knowledge of how to create an artifact to banish the wendigo away.
You've done it before. The archdruid crafted a horn, to drive the monster away into the mountains.
Ugmitok listens, and she begins working. But then something goes wrong. The bugbear betrays you. She doesn't drive the monster away. Instead, she uses your power to achieve her own ends. She binds the wendigo to her horn, and to her will. She uses it to achieve terrible things.
This isn't what you wanted. Why did she betray you? Why?
Your vision returns, and you look to Ehren.
It will be okay. Another has answered the call. There will be balance. It will be okay.
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Hinagiku had stopped in an awkward position, half-bent forward with a hand on the door to open it ajar, and was now staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. Slowly, as seconds pass, her shoulders sink into a relaxed positions and she straightens up while her hand leaves the door’s handle and comes to rest by her side. She had entered barely able to control herself, and now she appeared to have reached illumination. She looked even more calm and peaceful than usual, if that were possible. As she stands there, motionless, the others can see the wound she sustained earlier heal over.
After a few more seconds pass, Hinagiku’s eyes become watery and one or two lone tears trickle down the fur on her cheeks. She bats her eyes a few times and, when her eyes become focused again, she is staring at Ehren. Relief seems to break her serene expression as she continues to stare at the druid. She opens her mouth, and for a moment no sound escapes as she tries to remember how to speak. Finally, in a soft voice unaffected by emotions she says:
”Did I…” she stops, realizing she’s used the wrong pronoun ”Did the World Soul tell you what needs to be done?”
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Ehren quietly withdraws his hand and steps away from the stone. The experience was not overwhelming as it was the first time, but the knowledge he received was still a lot to process at once. Combined with the insight he had gleaned just moments before, the picture was starting to become clearer to him. Before long, he looks over at Hinagiku, realizing that he is being stared at. He stares at her in turn, noticing right away that something is different about her. After an awkward silence, he nods in the affirmative and takes a breath.
"The wendigo that haunts these mountains is known to my people as Kalek, Corruptor of Hearts. A long time ago, Kalek was a scourge on the clans of northern Sarkoris. It massacred the migratory reindeer that they relied on for food during the winter months, for no other reason than to spread famine and instigate conflict. Peace was restored by one of the archdruids, who drove Kalek deep into Rimethirst, never to be seen again...
"At least, that is how it was supposed to be. But that was before the Worldwound opened. Much has changed since then, and Kalek still lives. I do not know how, but the wendigo has been bound to an artifact of great power - a magical horn, carved from a mammoth's tusk. That horn is in the possession of one of the wikkawaks here. I can only assume that she is their leader, and that the horn somehow gives her command over Kalek.
"If we can find the horn and destroy it, we can banish Kalek into the mountains and restore balance to these lands. For good, this time."
Hinagiku nods back to Ehren, but her eyes stay fixed on him, relief and reconnaissance still emanating from her traits.
"Yes, we must destroy this thing. It is too evil, too corruptive, and too painful to leave this here. And Mr. Ehren can destroy it."[b] she pauses, her gaze still on Ehren.[b]"The woman you speak of, she is a druid, the one who answered to the call, the cries for help, yet betrayed m... the land. Do, do you know where she is?"
"So there's some sort of relic being held by one of the wikkawaks. I suppose if there's any way to get a tribe like this to work together, having control of some super wendigo is a good way to do it. And we can even get rid of him without having to fight him. That's always nice." She looks over at Xan. "Do you think the elderly wikkawak you saw near the prisoners could be the one we're looking for?"
The old wikkawak by the pens is male.
Xanderghul shakes his head. "No, that one looked more like some kind of beastmaster than a tribal leader... I'd bet the druid leader is in some position of honor within thee building or out leading their forces against the demons."
"I worry about her using the horn and the wendigo against us... Although this is turning into a much more fascinating situation the deeper we delve into it."