"Well, naturally. We've been looking for you. Why would we look for someone we didn't know? Seems a good way to not find what you're looking for."
Tsin takes the cut gag from the floor, and steps to Marcian, where she ties it on.
"My name is Tsin. Malavarius is our trusty mage. Quinn carries the word of Cayden wherever he stumbles." Tsin assesses both Hektir and Quinn for their conditions. "Hektir here is protector, looking after Nadya and her brood. I believe you know Nadya? She is the reason, I think, that we have come looking for you." Tsin marks Pems, a light nod. "Pems humors us all, and he's become quite the fearsome ally. That, and... his rabbit. Both Flash and Zeno, too. You haven't met Zeno yet, but I promise you won't forget him once you do."
Tsin flicks a stare at Pems regarding the locker.
"Ringeirr, we have business in Whitethrone. Your recent incarceration indicates your allegiance to the people, not the queen, and we would very much appreciate avoiding detections. It may not look like it, as aggressively as we took this makeshift prison of yours, but time is of the essence."
Pems moves over to the locker and begins examining it. Pulling forth his tools, he studies the lock, then begins to unlock it.
"Bah, don't listen to her, lad. There's time for tea and dinner."
"Nadya?" he says. "My nephew's widow? You know her? Is she with you? It sounds as there is much for us to talk about. Let us go to my hut to talk."
Pems, you do in fact find a trap, a vicious poison needle, but you're able to disarm it. Eventually getting the locker open, you discover a wand, a small pouch holding four uncut rubies worth 50 gp each, 179 gp in assorted coinage, and a curious silver mirror engraved with the image of two lovers embracing that’s worth 100 gp.
Another satchel contains gear that Ringeirr claims is his.
Hektir nods when Tsin introduces him, his foot upon the corpse of the ogre.
"Well met, Ringyears," Hektir says with a manly spit. "Like Tsin says, we need in to Whitethrone. We have some witches to slay."
Hektir wants Ringeirr to have his gear back.
"Well done, mastersmith." Tsin nods her approval at Pems' craft. She turns back to Ringeirr.
"We've announced ourselves locally by roughing up some ruffians down by the pier. Can you navigate us to your hut without causing a ruckus? We'll have to trust that you can, of course." Tsin moves to the door through which they entered.
"Are you sure you want to leave Marcian alive?" Tsin asks this of Ringeirr as much as she does of Pems.
"I do not think it matters. Without his pay, I think the Fishcamp Guards will turn on him," Ringeirr says. "But I do not know if he will try to get revenge. He is a dangerous man. Speaking of which, be careful what you say about witches here. The mirrors have ears, and anyone may be listening."
He greets Nadya with a bone-crushing hug and then leads you back to another hut, where he begins starting a fire and preparing some sort of gruel to eat.
"Tell me, now, how do you come here?"
After you share your story , he ladles dinner into wooden bowls, and then leans in and draws you close.
"I have told few of this, but sometime after I came to terms with the loss of my wife and son, I was contacted by an underground resistance group called the Heralds of Summer’s Return..."
He explains they're resistance fighters in Whitethrone who are members of a clandestine cult of Milani who maintain a secret shrine to the goddess in the city. After meeting them, Ringeirr found a new purpose in
helping the oppressed people of Whitethrone. Now an agent of the Heralds, he smuggles the desperate out of the city and brings in much needed supplies to the resistance.
"But it is not easy now. Queen Elvanna has seized power from her mother, Baba Yaga, and intends to remain on the throne on Irrisen. She
has removed the Iron Guard from power and instituted a new military force in its place, the Winter Guard, loyal to her alone. She has declared martial law in Whitethrone, and it is very dangerous to go through the city’s primary gates. Traffic still passes, but it has a slowed to a crawl, and nothing is not searched by the Winter Guard.
"Worse, entering the city isn’t the only problem. Citizens are routinely checked even within the city. You will need papers to move throughout Whitethrone, not just through its gates. But ...
"But ... perhaps ... you might be able to pass for stilyagi. They are a privileged group of Jadwiga, young nobles known for their outlandish behavior and styles of dress."
Like-minded stilyagi form gangs that adopt the cultural and stylistic trappings of other lands and peoples -- even pretending to be adventurers from other nations, he explains. They are also notorious for the recruitment of foreigners (even those of other races) to Whitethrone to act as companions, teachers, and advisors -- at least until they grow tired of them.
"Perhaps you could pretend to be stilyagi and their foreign guests? We will have to get you papers, but I know someone who could do that maybe. But we will have to get to him and even that might not be easy."
Pemsworth hears the man's words, and stares down at the swordsman that brought Tsin and Quinn low. Without a word he takes his icicle dagger and plunges it into the man's eye, killing him as swiftly as he can. He does not speak as he cleans the blood from it, nor does he talk as they make it to Ringeiir's hut.
Malavarius deflates as the man on the floor has his life snuffed out by Pemsworth. He turns to Zeno with sad eyes, "Do you think they'll ever tire of spilling all this blood?"
Zeno stares at wizard for a few long moments before responding,
The two sigh in unison then before following the others out and to Ringeirr's home.
He stops at the door after a moment and snatches the mirror up and quickly searches it out for magics before the group bears it to Ringeirr's residence.
---
Malavarius gets destracted a short way through dinner as he examines the wand.
Tsin watches Pems do what needs must be done. You are steeling yourself for what is to come, halfling, and that is not a bad thing. It is necessary, if we are to see this through.
She talks with herself for a small while, heading towards Ringeirr's hut, then turns her attention to Pems. "It's been very trying, trying to understand Skald. We're lucky that you understand it. If you wouldn't mind helping me practice, I think I should pick up on it before long, and not lose as much in translations." Tsin continues to practice the harsher tones, hoping she can pass for a non-foreigner.
...
Tsin listens intently to Ringeirr, quickly consuming the gruel while he talks. "Papers first, yes? Where start? Who this man that can help us?" Her Skald and her common mix, but her meaning should be clear enough to avoid discouragement.
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Hektir grabs and dons the Ring of Protection once it is explained to him.
* * *
When Pems takes care of Marcian, Hektir responds with a spit. "That's good work there, Pems. Just make sure you do that to every witch you see. Ain't none of them worth a damn."
* * *
Hektir nods and listens to Ringeirr's explanations and descriptions while happily slurping his fish soup. He tries to summarize things, both for others and to clarify his own understanding.
"So yeah, we want to help Baby Yaggi. And we definitely want to get that b#$%! Elfhanna. So, if we need to pretend we're JaddiWiggy, we will. We'll do a fine job of being StillHaggis. Where can we get papers? What do we need to do? We can be ready in the morning or afternoon."
As usual, Quinn thoughts were drifting down memory lane and he was glad for Hektir's timely summary. Still admiring the new rapier he lifted from Marcian after the man nearly killed him, Quinn seconded Hektir's assertion, "We can be ready shortly, just a little rest, that's all I need, maybe a bit of ale."
Hektir tries to continue to ignore his raging wounds from the recent battle.
"Maybe we should provision up and rest before doing whatever we're going to do. RingyEars, is there a place here to buy and sell equipment? Maybe buy a magic item or two?"
The mirror is not magical, Mal. The wand is a wand of spider climb (17 charges).
"His name is Mortin," Ringeirr says. "He lives on borders of Howlings, where winter wolves live. Thanks to ancient pact with Baba Yaga, winter wolves can look like humans there. I may be able to get you into city there. 'Howlings Gate' is not gate at all but hole in city wall that lets wolves come and go. Wolves are responsible for security of district, but they will look other way with right gift."
"But if I help you, will you help me? I want to bring food to people going hungry in city when we enter. After you get papers and we deliver food, I bring you to meet my contact."
Ringeirr has a few other concerns.
First, he says, you can’t just walk around the city decked out in medium or heavy armor or shields, or openly display weapons larger than a dagger without documents authorizing them to do so. He belabors the point, explaining that's why papers identifying you as stilyagi or part of a stilyagi retinue are preferable, as they’ll grant more privileges with fewer questions.
Ringeirr intends to push a handcart full of snow-packed fish through the district as part of their cover. He suggests you can wrap your heavier gear in oiled cloth and bury it under the fish if you don't have another way.
Pemsworth nods that he can live with those requirements.
"'Howlings Gate' is not gate at all but hole in city wall that lets wolves come and go. Wolves are responsible for security of district, but they will look other way with right gift."
Hektir leans in at the mention of wolves and their place here. Hektir, being a proud outdoorsman, has always felt a kinship with normal-wolves, not jerky-winter-wolves.
"Tell me more about the wolves...what they look like, RingyEars. And what other animals are common in town. It might be that I disguise myself...differently. Any boars? Wolverines? Normal wolves? Birds of Prey?"
Hektir continues.
"And what's this about not open carrying arms in town? Isn't that a fundamental right? We should be able to carry dangerous and likely lethal weapons when we are shopping about town. Why do these people hate freedom?"
Malavarius looks up from the wand he's been studying, surprise painted plainly in his wide eyes and bushy eyebrows, "No arms?! What am I supposed to put in my sleeves then? How is an old man to carry his staff without blasted arms?" He shakes his head and mutters, "Irrisen!" under his breath like an invective.
"Do we still have that sword that looks like a belt until it's needed? I'd prefer to not be defenseless, entering an area that is obviously hostile territory to our designs." Tsin bites her lower lip in consideration. She bunches up her Cloak of the Yeti.
"Ringeirr, does this conceal my lamellar armor well enough?"
"Animals are fine. Many of the witches and jadwiga have their companions with them," he replies. "But scimitar is too big. It will attract attention. But cloak -- it is very fine! -- should be good. Your armor is not so big."
"In Howlings, winter wolves can take human form. They will look like you or me, but with white hair. As wolf, they look like big white winter wolf. Other animals are smaller, like friends with witches. Like bunny or bird."
"Maybe we should provision up and rest before doing whatever we're going to do. RingyEars, is there a place here to buy and sell equipment? Maybe buy a magic item or two?"
* * *
"In Howlings, winter wolves can take human form. They will look like you or me, but with white hair. As wolf, they look like big white winter wolf. Other animals are smaller, like friends with witches. Like bunny or bird."
Hektir nods, and almost spits in Ringeirr's home by force of habit. He catches himself and swallows his spit instead.
"That's good. I'll be plenty disguised tomorrow. We can go in the afteroon tomorrow? I could use some sleep. My wounds are pretty deep. "
"There is little here in Fishcamps. You find much more in Whitethrone. Once you have papers, you can move around, go to Merchants Quarter. Is not far from Howlings.
"Yes, you can stay here. We go tomorrow. Nadya, you should stay here. There is no reason for you to go in, and it is dangerous. You should go home to your children."
Content to stay the evening, Quinn heals the party's wounds with Cayden's blessings.
"Yes, you can stay here. We go tomorrow. Nadya, you should stay here. There is no reason for you to go in, and it is dangerous. You should go home to your children."
Hektir looks at Nadya, a look on his face of loss.
"Yeah, Nadya. Your should go take care of your children. You've more than shown your bravery. I'll get your revenge, I promise it. No more parents will lose their children to these witches. I promise it," Hektir says defiantly and angrily.
"I'll come find you when we finish. Your children need you."
"One more question, RingyEars. What kind of birds pass about town? What are the ones common to the witches? I don't mean squabs like Zeno, either...I'm talking about manly birds."
Tsin adjusts the Bladed Belt around her ample hips. She practices with it several times over, growing her trust in its magic to be there at every summoning. She secures it, and pats it lightly.
"Yes, Nadya. We are grateful for your guidance. Ringeirr can take it from here." She extends her hand, expecting to grasp Nadya's with a kind squeeze.
"Ringeirr, we'll trust your leading us through. If you have any common expressions used by the Stilyagi, I would learn them." Tsin spends her evening practicing Skald with those speaking it much more fluently than she.
"Most common are ravens, but owls and hawks too are there. And gulls sometimes." Ringeirr replies.
Nadya clasps Tsins' hand warmly.
"Thank you. You brought me word of my Thora and saved my son. You are all welcome at my home whenever you want, should you survive this."
Hektir eats his fill, thanks Quinn for the healing, and turns in for the night.
In the morning, he will spend his usual time praying and meditating, mostly focusing on what it means to be a man in nature, rather than a man vs. nature.
When the party is ready to move out, Hektir will explain that he will take the form a mighty hawk during the entry.
When Pems finally begins talking, he tutors Tsin in Skald, trying to get her up to fluent as quickly as he can. If he's offered the rimepelt, he takes it with some reverence. "This will change me into a wolf?"
"Or a human, young Pemsworth, a human with white hair and blue eyes." Malavarius strokes his white beard and his own blue eyes twinkle brightly as he explains the properties of the pelt to the halfling.
Cantrips Prepared (4): detect magic, open/close, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (3+2+1): endure elements [X], hold portal [ ], hydraulic push [ ], protection from evil* [ ], snapdragon fireworks [ ] [ ]
Level 2 Prepared (2+2+1): glitterdust [ ], protection from arrows* [ ], resist energy [ ], spontaneous immolation [ ] [ ]
Level 3 Prepared (1+1+1): dispel magic* [ ] [ ], fireball [ ]
When the party is ready to go, Hektir spits and sends his eternal sense inward, becoming the animal he envisions in his mind, willing his body to follow.
Hawktir flaps his wings and soars up into the sky, seeking food.
Ooh!! Zeno-squab. I bet that is delicious.
After a few practice swoops and passes, he will land on Tsin's shoulder.
Pems looks down at his suddenly huge body. He wobbles for a moment as he gets used to the effect. Suddenly he grins and spins around to Tsin "So, how do I look?"
Tsin considers Ringeirr's fishcart for a moment. Against her desire for comfort, she plunges both arms into a bucket of fish, extracting some fluids to wipe on her lap, hoping that winter wolf scenting will pass over her easily enough should they try and separate her from her guide.
Tsin watches with naked fascination as Hektir takes another animal form. As the hawk takes its place, Tsin nods to Malavarius and Zeno with a wink.
"How do I look?"
Tsin continues to take in the transformations, feeling a little silly for her fish gut cloaking. "I'd say Hektir and Quinn would need to look out for the competition. You present a far more striking profile than the dairymaid duo."
"Dairymaids? Where!" The easily distracted Quinn only catches a snippet of the conversation, but looks about eagerly, hoping to sight the maidens.
In the morning, Ringeirr arranges for some fisherfolk to help him get
the fish cart to the outskirts of Whitethrone, where you meet him.
The walls of Whitethrone tower 30 feet high, and have the appearance of giant, sharpened femurs fused together, though closer inspection reveals only smooth stonework the color of bleached bone. Massive skulls of the same bone-white stone top the walls, staring with blank gazes outward from the city in all directions. A rough road of frozen mud, churned and trampled from the traffic of countless feet, leads through an opening in the wall, which appears to have been deliberately left unfinished rather than sundered.
A woman warily watches you approach, raising her hand as you near and bidding you to stop. She nods to Pems, in his winter wolf disguise and looks over the rest of the motley crew.
"What is your business in Whitethrone?" she asks in Common in an unfriendly tone of voice.
Hawktir has no special preparations, save being as awesomely hawklike as possible. As a sign of his complete dominion over his new form, he will resist dive bombing Flash.
* * *
When they approach the woman, Hawktir does not do any of the talking and will avoid flexing his mighty bird muscles in attempts to impress the woman.
The woman doesn't seem to notice the bird other than a cursory glance. She seems to have eyes more for Pems and the rest of the group.
Malavarius spends the evening studying one of his scrolls and making scribblings in his own spellbook. As he prepares himself the following morning, he draws forth the newly learned magic and emerges from the house seemingly half his age. Despite this, he still carries his staff with him as he follows the others to the breach in Whitethrone's outer wall.
Cantrips Prepared (4): detect magic, open/close, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (3+2+1): endure elements [X], hold portal [ ], protection from evil* [ ], snapdragon fireworks [ ] [ ], youthful appearance [X]
Level 2 Prepared (2+2+1): glitterdust [ ], protection from arrows* [ ], resist energy [ ], spontaneous immolation [ ] [ ]
Level 3 Prepared (1+1+1): dispel magic* [ ] [ ], fireball [ ]
In Skald, Pems replies. "They're with me. Stilyagi from the countryside. You got a problem with that?" Pems plays up the wolf aspect, growling deep in his chest and staring hard at the woman.
"Not if you have your papers," the woman growls back, her eyes narrowing. "You should know we can't just have their kind coming in here."
"Their kind? I say, a man can travel more than half way across this blasted world and find it's just the same everywhere. Is there something about doors and gates that so attract rude people to stand beside them? Not a friendly 'hello' or 'how do you do' to be heard anymore. These are dark days we're in, don't you know. Dark days."
Pems rolls his eyes. He leans in and says confidentially in a low voice. "They don't have their papers. We're on our way to pick up new copies for them. They're like cubs, lost in the blizzard. No sense. City's got them all wide eyed and stupid. But I owe them a favor. So let me take them and get their papers and everyone's happy, eh?"
Tsin hovers around the fishcart and Ringeirr, choosing to shift buckets, and count the contents of the cart. She listens as casually as she can to exchange between the men and woman. Occasionally, she taps her fingers along the edge of her belt. Only occasionally.
The woman considers Pems' words. She hesitates for a few moments, but then sighs.
"Let me just have a quick look and then I suppose you can go."
She glances over your cart, seeming bored now, and shrugs. Then she motions for Pems to step away from the rest of you: "A word, please?"