"A travois is as simple as two sticks, some rope and a blanket. It will be worth the two to three minutes it takes to fix them when we can slide him across the ground...as you say, he is a big man.", Warden responds to Droviz.
Ragnar's axe lay on the ground where it had fallen when the big man had been disarmed...
It doesn't take long to get a few saplings together to to form a travois for Finngarth, but it does take a while to get enough wood together to be able to support Ragnar's massive weight. With both bodies lasted to their respective travois, the group sets out, back towards the lone cabin.
The trek back is difficult at best. The winter storm rages on in full effect, and if not for Sylgja, the group would have been lost numerous times. Even with a hooded cloak and thick clothes, she doesn't appear to be bothered at all by the cold, snow, or wind. Within several hours, the cabin comes into view.
Inside the cabin, Nadya and her children have a fire roaring and venison roasting. Sylgja smiles as she walks in and finds everyone comfortable. Looking back at the others, she invites "please, come in. Get warm. It'll be a little cozy, but there should be enough room, even with the big one."
Havelock finds a place to sit and slumps down with an audible grunt.
"THAT...was an ordeal.
What a fantastic situation to be in, an enemy that fears fire against someone who use it with abandon.
Only...he cannot do so now, because he would burn more than his target.
Wonderful..."
"I don't feel right," Droviz complains as he sits down. "Everything's dull. Fuzzy."
Warden stands guard outside the cabin. Being coniferous in nature, the cold was less of an issue to it and Fang, especially if they huddled close together.
In the early hours of morning, Warden finds Droziv, and Ragnar, if awake, to use the power of nature to undo the damage done by nature.
"Ragnar, do you remember what happened?", Warden will calmly ask, preparing to provide aid to the big man, filling him in on what happened if the answer is a no.
Once Ragnar seems full of life again, Warden heads to the Dark Elf:"Droviz, things don't feel right because you have been poisoned. Let me help you."
Ragnar woke up bewildered. He didn't sleep much anymore, and had not dreamed in literal ages. He remembered what it was like to wake up with nightmares when he was a child so very, very long ago.
It felt just like this. Like he had experienced something he was not mentally equipped to handle. Something that seemed real, but that he hoped was not.
He looked down at his wounds, remembering the horrors of attacking his friends, and worse, how it felt to want to. All the fragments fit together one after another, gaps filling, each worse than the last. He looked around at everyone and squinted, trying to see something. After a moment he shook his head as though trying to shake something off. He scowled in frustration.
He reached out and gently touched Warden and Fang. Then he stood up and slowly made his way around the group, resting his massive hand on one shoulder after another, seeming a bit more relieved every time.
When he was finished he hung his head. "I remember. I am sorry."
"Bah, I have never in my life desired a glass of schnapps more than I do at this particular point in time."
Havelock shakes his head a little.
"And to think, when I arrived in that little hamlet we started our quest from, I at first were too proud to employ my alchemical knowledge to withstand the cold.
Ah, these days I can scarcely even remember what that kind of pride felt like."
When Ragnar apologizes, Warden cocks it's head:"Why are you sorry? Did you enjoy what you did? I was under the impression you had no choice...or do you hold yourself responsible for another's actions?".
It genuinely does not seem to understand...but neither does Warden seem to really expect an explanation, or even an answer...instead, it turns to Havelock, inquiring:"You have great skill with alchemy...could you...concoct something to withstand fire, rather than cold?"
"Not others. Only mine." Ragnar said. "That..." he gestured to where the fungus had wrapped around his arm. "...made me want to. Made me want kill you all. Was not sure if I had."
|
Krystae follows stoically through the blizzard, allowing the stronger members of the group to pull the travois while she keeps an eye out for anything...
Once back at the cabin she gratefully enjoys some of the warm food. When Ragnar apologizes and places his hand upon her shoulder, she looks up with a smile. "You of all people have taught me that we should not feel guilt for something outside of our control. I am just glad that you are safe now."
"And I you." Ragnar replied. "The woman. Did her mate live?"
"Think so," Droviz says, with some semblance of his good cheer restored. "As for apologizing - I figure we're square. We beat you up pretty good, so if you're alright, we should be, too."
Havelock makes a dismissive gesture, not fully listening at the moment.
"Of course, such a thing is learned at a journeyman level.
concocting a mixture to protect against any form of energy is a small thing indeed."
"Fascinating. Teach me, so that I no longer will need to fear your fire, then!", Warden responds with excitement.
To Ragnars question, it points towards a corner, where Sylgia's husband is sleeping:"A bit battered, and also poisoned by the Fungus, but I can't help more people today. If we stay another night, I might be able to help his recovery-"
Sylgja spends most of her time sitting with her unconscious Finngarth but she does take time to extend any and all comforts that she can provide in the cozy cottage. She prepares food for everyone several times per day, although where she gets the supplies from is anyone's guess. Nadya and her children are all grateful to see everyone again. Nadya admits to being uncomfortable in the cabin alone, but that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. By all accounts, it seems to just be a small cabin in the woods.
The next day, once Finngarth has regained consciousness, Sylgja is overjoyed and tears of happiness stream down her face. "I...I can't thank you enough. Here, let me see your weapons. There is one thing I can do to help repay your kindness."
Finngarth, though slow to rise and move, conveys his thanks as well. "I thought I would never see my wife again, and then I thought I would be a slave to that fungus until I died. I owe you my life. If there is anything I can do to repay the debt, please tell me."
Sylgja enchants your primary weapon (1 per person) with a +1 enhancement bonus.
"We shall need a place where I can set up a laboratory. Once that is done, I shall give you some instructions."
Havelock focuses his unblinking eyes on Sylgja. Handing over a weapon was a thing that just made his paranoia scream.
But tears...could you fake tears like that?
Sighing a little at his own potential naivety, he eventually, if somewhat grudgingly, hands over his prized Bastard sword.
Ragnar hesitated for only a moment before handing her his axe. He was unwilling to part with his father's spear.
"Wouldn't say no, missus!" Droviz says with a big smile as he hands over his cold iron longsword. "Bless me, but ye've got a skill there! Usually, it'd be as folks need days to enchant weapons like this."
At first it doesn't seem like it's possible. After weeks of cold and snow, what lies ahead is almost unbelievable.
The skies are clear up ahead, and the air grows warmer. Sunlight shines down on fresh grass that has sprouted where the snow suddenly ends in a clear line. As far as the eye can see, fir tress have shed any sign of white, and birch trees show sign of fresh new leaves. The sounds of rivulets of water and melting snow can be heard everywhere.
About 3-miles wide, this zone of winter reprieve is well over 40 degrees and vegetation is growing as if it was the start of Spring. Currently, a single giant elk grazes in this little pocket of summer. It stands well over 6 feet tall at the shoulder and is greedily grazing.
"This looks nice," Droviz says. "Trap?"
"Oh please, WE are experiencing this.
With our previous experiences so far taken into account, what chances do we truly have of this NOT being a trap?"
Ragnar trudged implacably at the back of the group, his capricious undead companion with him again.
"We are too fearful." he rumbled. "We thought the woman who needed help was a trap also."
"Hm. My weapon is Fang. It is of my pod, we are of the same seed. These are just...accessories.", Warden indicates its companion, then the shortspears it carries.
_______________________________
"This looks nice indeed. Trap or not, it is a most welcome change of scenery. So let us enjoy it, no matter if it's magic or simply natural. Maybe there's hot springs nearby?"
Warden looks around for any indication of geothermic activity in the area...something that could be a natural cause for the area...something that would, to Warden, be preferably over someone magically controlling the weather - which was quite a demanding Feat, as far as it understood.
Fang inches forward, using it's keen sense of smell trying to pick up scents, then takes a few more steps and lies down in the warm grass about 20 feet inside the zone as the others discuss how to proceed.
"Hm. My weapon is Fang. It is of my pod, we are of the same seed. These are just...accessories.", Warden indicates its companion, then the shortspears it carries.
Havelock begins to slowly inch forward, the tension of the situation making him reckless.
The warmth of the clearing is enough to bring a smile to your face. As Havelock enters the grove, the giant elk looks up from feeding. It glances in your direction but holds it's ground. It stares you down for a brief moment before it returns to it's meal.
A minute or so later howls ring out from the opposite side of the clearing. The elk visibly startles. It's head darts around in a panic and it stands prepared to flee in an instant.
"Wolves?"
Turning to the others, Havelock's eyes narrows slightly.
"Looks like this place might not be so nice for much longer."
"Well, wolf don't taste as good as elk, but meat is meat," Droviz says as he unslings sword and shield.
"If they attack us, with that kind of prey around, then they probably won't be ordinary wolves, but servants of the white queen. Don't let your guard down thinking we are dealing with animals.", Warden explains, as Fang returns to a more alert state, staring into the distance.
Seconds drag on into minutes as the stand off continues. Eventually, the stag bolts in a neutral direction, away from the adventures and the distant howls. Left alone in the warm glade, the sounds of winter fade away as birds chirp just out of sight.
Ragnar waled out into the clearing with a smile on his face. It had been a long time since he had felt the warmth of the sun. "Trap or no, this good."
Warden detects no magic in the clearing. With its ties to nature, Warden knows that it's not a natural phenomenon. With no magic to stem the inclement weather, the hot spot is not likely to last more than a few days at most. Sooner or later, the snow will overtake it.
"With no magics involved, this seems a most obscure occurance, I think. Regardless, it is bliss to feel the warmth. We are in a hurry, of course, but if nature gifts us such an opportunity to remember what we are fighting for, then my vote is for accepting it and resting here, then pushing on tomorrow with renewed vigor and determination.", Warden makes it's point.
"Hmmm, in a land of eternal winter...would a place like this stick out in the perception of those attuned to winter?"
"Could be a blind spot as well. But I may be biased.", Warden replied, but it did genuinely believe either could be true.
Nadya takes in the whole scene and smiles, eventually speaking up.
"We should take advantage of this unique opportunity. Who knows if we'll ever get another chance to warm up like this." Nadya goes about setting up a camp site for her two boys and is quiet and reserved through most of the labor. Other than the occasional chirping birds, time passes quietly. The boys spread out looking for berries or mushrooms, anything edible to help sustain the dwindling rations but find nothing. Apparently the warm spot is a recent phenomenon and the vegetation hasn't had long enough to sprout seeds.
Time in the grove passes uneventfully other than the boys laughing and smiling as they have a moment to play. Nadya, stoic through it all, manages to eek out a brief but slight grin as she watches the two enjoy the reprieve. Still, it's obvious that she still mourns the loss of her daughter.
Its early the next day when several ruined structures appear in the distance. This place was once a small town or village prior to the Winter War. Most of the buildings are little more than piles of snow-covered stones, with crumbled sections of their walls rising from the ruins. The only structure that might offer temporary shelter appears to be an old temple inside a walled circular churchyard with an arch at the entrance. The front door of the temple has rotted away, but a smooth stone circle engraved with the outline of a butterfly mounted above the doorway.
The butterfly above the church doorway identifies the structure as a temple of Desna.
Even from a distance, you can hear the sounds of children playing ahead. The laughter sounds like the giggling of the spirits that always seem to follow you.
"Ah, I believe this to be a temple to Desna, a goddess I have had the opportunity to give thanks to on many occasions.
...
As a traveller you understand."