With a single arrow, Random ends the dinosaur threat in the cave.
A faint heat comes from beyond a cave-in at the back of the cave. The cavern’s tall walls are covered with cave paintings under a thin layer of faintly glowing algae, which depict the Snowmask Clan.
The paintings depict a castle at the base of a mountain. Outside the castle, a large creature with wings and a long neck lies on the ground before a figure lifting a huge red axe over its head to strike. Other humanoid figures cluster around the scene. The mural is then interrupted by a repeated design: two mammoths with a smaller one in tow marching east. This motif is repeated over and over in an orderly line from the top wall of the cave to the bottom. There are 30 copies of this design.
The creature on the ground in the first painting was originally painted white, but that time has eroded whatever the painter used to show this color. The character brandishing the axe was also painted white, but around the face, suggesting a large white beard.
The next scene shows the wielder of the red axe lying on a raised mound within the castle, his weapon clutched to his chest. Other figures leave the castle carrying large bags on their shoulders.
The drawings continue on the other side of the cave, showing an avalanche cascading down to cover the tower. The last drawing shows more of the humanoid figures standing over the edge overlooking the castle’s previous location, while four drawings of the moon in various states arc above the scene. In this last picture, all of the humanoid figures have a smear of white color around their lower faces.
The axe-wielding figure in the first scene is different from the other humanoids depicted, as he is shown with a white beard, a feature uncommon among the Kellid peoples. The painting of the three mammoths symbolizes migration, and each painting of three mammoths stands for the passage of a single year. The moon in its various stages symbolizes eternity or a period of time that cannot be depicted with the migration symbol, usually meaning hundreds of years.
Upon studying the cave, the party also finds the bodies of several deceased kellids, still wearing their equipment:
- 3 bandages
bandages of rapid recovery
- 2 masterwork throwing axes
- a masterwork bolas
- 3 potions
barkskin, 2x endure elements
- 6 pairs of snowshoes,
- a wand carved from a smilodon’s tooth,
fully charged wand of longstrider
- a bag of unworked gemstones worth 40 gp.
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"The potions and wand are magic, but I don't know what they do. The bandages are called bandages of rapid recovery. I don't know that any of us need them yet, but they could be useful later."
"What do we make of the story? Some guy decided he didn't like creatures with long, snaky appendages, so he killed a long-necked dragon. And then all the mastodons decided they didn't want him to kill them because of their long, snaky trunks, so they all ran off to the east. Then the guy died, and they buried him in a castle, and buried the castle with a mountain. Has anyone told the mammoths it's safe to go back west? The guy's gone?"
By the morning, the storm has gone and the party is free to set off again. The path slopes downward as they approach a series of high, rocky cliffs on the edge of the Tusk Mountains. Near midday, Skagni’s map directs them through a narrow ravine of ice and rock.
The shriek of a snowy owl dances off the high, rough walls of ice and rock inside this gorge, and the long shadows inside make it feel like evening rather than midday. Although the canyon provides a direct path through the rocky terrain of this area, the other side is almost invisible from the entrance. In the snow drenched plains leading to the gorge mouth, primeval aurochs and bison paw at the new snow to unearth scrub grass.
About 200 feet away, some humanoids can be seen herding Aurochs
Some humanoid tracks lead into the gorge, but go only a few feet before turning around.
Roary also spots the remains, partly eaten, of a sabre-toothed tiger.
The creature, normally the top predator in this area, appears to have suffered massive bludgeoning damage. It appears to have been trampled to death.
The canyon is about 30 feet wide, and moving is, the sides of the gorge are about 50 feet high.
The packed snow hides most of the rumbling sound, but slowly a suspicious noise is getting clearer.
Stampede!
A large herd of Aurochs is headed this way, and is sure to trample whoever is in the way. All but Kynn manage to see the threat in time.
---Surprise round---
Roary
Random
Torrian
---Full round
Roary
Random
Torrian
Kynn
---Herd arrival round--
Roary
Random
---
Herd
---
Torrian
Kynn
---
Roary manages to climb out of danger, and lowers a rope for Torrian, who now manages to gain some altitude as well, after initially faltering.
Random manages to attach a grappling hook to the top of the canyon, and quickly pulls himself out of the way.
It looks like Kynn is on his own...
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Seeing the writing on the wall, as it were.
Can't run, can't climb. This ought to be good!
Kynn whips a scroll out of his pouch and casts, a desperate plan blossoming full blown into his mind.
Hope this works!
Suddenly, a stationary ball of fire springs to life twenty feet from Kynn, between him and the stampede; and Kynn charges in behind it, sliding the last few feet to curl up as small as possible, and likely a bit to close and the fur on his cloak is singed.
The herd of aurochs rumbles on, and while some of the panicked creatures try to avoid the ball of fire - causing something of a carnage among the beasts as well - eventually the herd just tramples over it, an Kynn as well
When the herd is past, the trampled, bleeding body of Kynn lies motionless on the floor...
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Random slides down the rope and bounces over to Kynn's body. "I did feel like we were forgetting something. That was a good idea with the ball of fire, though."
He crouches down and starts putting some of the bits of Kynn that shouldn't be on the outside back on the inside, and tying them in place with strips of fabric torn from what's left of Kynn's shirt. "Ugh. Hey, someone grab the wand out of my pack in case this doesn't work... nevermind. That stopped it."
He gets the wand out himself and taps it on Kynn a few times, until he regains consciousness and tells Random that he has a wand of his own.
With the aid of Random, Kynn quickly recovers. It's amazing to see how magical healing removes bruises and restores broken bones.
With the threat of the stampede now gone, the adventurers continue through the gorge. Just where the path rounds between two steep embankments, a dozen Kellid warriors with painted faces stand vigilant in the center of the route. Although they are armed with axes and round, Ulfen-styled shields, their weapons are not drawn. At the head, a tall and powerfully-built figure with piercing eyes steps forward. As he approaches, his hands are held palm up until he is close enough for words. “I am Hiryla,” he says in broken Common, his words flowing with a strange cadence that suggests that he is speaking words that were given to him by another to say. “You come with me... We must talk.”
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Random answers Kynn's confused ramblings, "Well, your eyes are still screwed up, but I'm not wasting another charge trying to fix them. I wonder if those creatures knocked you far-sighted? Maybe next time you'll be able to make out a herd of large animals before they're right on top of you?"
When the party meets Hiryla, Random leans over to Roary and whispers, "Is that his name? It sounds feminine..."
Bring you to camp. We must talk. We move to camp.
The clansmen make no attempt to attack, but gesture due east, just south of the trail indicated on Skagni's map.
In camp, elders speak to you. Why you here. Then we see if help.
Then you must leave. Hiryla says. At least it's more reassuring than showing a knife.
After about an hour's travel, the party spots plumes of smoke over a low rise. Over the hill, the party sees the Kellid camp at the base on the other side. Unlike the fur and hide tents common among the nomadic northerners, this village is composed of small, round houses and low, long buildings built of stone with thatched roofs. The rectangular, round-topped buildings number almost 20 in all, gathered around a central, circular building that is larger and grander than the rest.
Hiryla leads the party to the larger building. Inside this grand hall, dozens of Kellid men, women, and children scurry to and fro, passing food and drink around an enormous central hearth. Long, low benches ring the fire, and a handful of elderly Kellids, decked out in ornate white furs sit on the other side of the flames from the building’s entrance. A young woman with one leg, walking with the aid of a crutch,greets Hiryla in Hallit, and then turns to the door and speaks in perfect Common. “Welcome to the North,” she says with a broad grin and a handshake. “My name is Teyma.”
A group of travellers from Irissen has entered our lands recently. We tried to talk to them, but they gave us only fights. We skirmished with them many times. Then a second company came - you. We are glad you have agreed to talk, unlike the other strangers. Hiryla and the elders want to know why two groups of foreigners travel our lands in such a short time.
“The elders want to hear your story. Tell us of your clan, and what brings you here. If the tale is good enough,” she adds with a smile, “we will tell you ours.”
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With noone speaking up Roary will take a stab at it.. Standing up. "I am Huscarl Roary Flambearer, Ulfen and friend to the Kellid. We came to your lands in an attempt to stop this other group from obtaining a powerful weapon. They are evil and will use it for evil purposes. We mean no disrepect to your lands or your tribe and only seek to stop a bunch of lunatics from obtaining the weapon."
well i cant get any better than that lol.
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Kynn stands as well.
We came across this trail, this task, by accident and felt compelled to see it though. We are not here in search of riches or glory, only to do as we feel we must. If there is any way that you might guide, assist, or educate us; we would be humbly in your debt.
Seating himself as quietly as he stood, Kynn reaches his hands out to the warmth of the fire.
The story of the pathfinders is well received, and the atmosphere seems to turn a little friendlier, and more understanding. For Kellid tribesmen, at least.
One of the elders, her face painted white like those of Hiryla and the other warriors, stands from the bench. With no other cue the room falls silent as she speaks. Her words have a strength and resonance belied by her withered frame:
“This is the story that the elders told me when I was a child. Once, a great warrior came to our lands from the South, though his blood and his beard were of the West, in the land where the first dragons hunt and kill. With gold and magic this warrior built a stone keep at the base of a mighty mountain. During this time he came to us, in peace, and invited us to his hearth with gifts of furs. Humbly he asked the elders of our clan if he could hunt with them and share in our ways. Quickly he proved himself a friend to all, sharing in our customs and sharing his with us.
“By the time the last stone was laid in his keep, he had hunted with the elders many times, and made many kills. His axe, sheathed in fire, had protected us from the white wolves and the yetis, just as we too had used our food and furs to keep him warm against the deepest colds. When his banner was raised, the elders were guests in his hall, and some of his own house had already merged their blood with our own. For years the king and our elders prospered,and we learned of crafts, weapons, and ways different from those that came before.
Then the white wyrms came. For beneath the keep, in the iced caverns below, the dragons had bred. For years their eggs slept and waited. When they hatched, they plagued the king and his new house, but he fought them back with the strength of his arm and the fire of his axe, and the battle was nearly won. But when a matriarch of the white returned to tend her brood, she was furious at the king and threw herself on the keep in madness. In the season of the longest nights, still the sun set and rose again before the battle was decided. The King struck the wyrm down, even though his armor and his beard were white with the ice of her breath. Our elders made trophies and talismans from what remained of the beast, and helped rebuild the crumbled tower.
“The mammoths crossed the plains ten times, three times over before the great king passed, and still the dragons were kept at bay. When the hour of his dying came, the great and generous Huscarl King gave all within his castle to those that had served and befriended his house, save for his mighty axe. With this, the elders buried him, and as we raise a mound of stones over the dead when the earth is too cold to dig, so did the elders bring the mountain down atop our king. Ever since have we held vigil over his tomb and what lies within. We remember his lessons, his ways that bled into the ways of the elders to become our ways. And we remember his beard, first white with frost, then with age, as it symbolizes what he protected us from and what he stood watch against.”
Kynn convinces the clan of his, and his peers', noble intentions. The attitude of the clansmen is now altogether friendly, and it look like even Hiryla may be tempted to take up arms beside the party.
The elders convene briefly, and then cast their verdict, speaking it out We shall grant you safe passage through our lands. Go where you may, and chase out the foreign invaders for us.
The map of Skagni, the secret weapon and the rumoured location of the keep - it all matches up. Jedrek's Shard, the secret weapon the Shadow Lodge members are after, it lies hidden in the Huscarl's keep...
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Keeping up the smile and good cheer Kynn continues to talk with the elders.
Thank you again for your generosity, your permission to travel your lands. As I said, we entered this task because we felt we must. We had no knowledge of you and your kin, and the importance of the axe to you. We are even more honored now to keep it out of those fiendish hands. This is your land, and your history. Would not one of your warriors wish to accompany us? That one would certainly be welcomed.
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Random gazes into the fire as the group discusses our intentions. Finally, as Kynn and Roary stand, preparing to leave, he stands and leans over to them, "First off, I think we should reassure them that we are not here for their women. I guess a couple of them are alright, but still, I haven't been out in the wilderness that long yet. That said, we should apologize for not bringing any lacy undergarments for them. Say we had to give them to some guy who was writing a book about the north. I'm sure they'll understand. Finally, we should stress that we are not friends of the group that passed through here before us. I'm just thinking, based on the little battlefields we've come across, that this group may not be too fond of them. I don't know that I'd go so far as to say that we're hunting them, because then they might be, like, 'Why you bring war to sacred lands?' or something..."
"Wuzzat? We're done, already? Oh! Well, nevermind, then."
Hiryla join the adventurers in their trek for the Keep of the Hurscarl King.
The bones of two ancient stone watchtowers rise from the ground like sentries set to guard the entrance to Ranulf’s Keep. Snow and ice still cover their base, making them inaccessible, but they mark the edge of the Huscarl’s Keep, just visible in the distance.
Here is it. Keep of Huscarl. Hiryla explains.
As the party approaches, they spot the leader of the shadow lodge expedition, Melkorka, surrounded by four of her agents.
Melkorka, a dark-skinned figure swathed in the orange and blue of a desert sky at sunset, strides defiantly forward. Her outline shivers with the heat emanating from the flaming great axe in her hands. As snow swirls on the wind around her, flakes hiss and shriek as they fall on the blade’s open flame. “Come Pathfinders,” she invites in a honeyed tone, as her companions draw their weapons. “Let Jedrek’s Shard warm you against the cold.”
---
Torrian
Kynn
Roary
---
Melkorka
Agent
Agent
Agent
Agent
Hiryla
---
Random
---
Roary charges the shadow lodge cleric in a rage, unsure whether the streak of blood is because of his mental state, or because of the wide gash he left in his opponent. When he gathers his bearing, he sees it's the latter: the cleric lies on the ground, the snow coloured red in blood.
---
Torrian
Kynn
Roary
---
Melkorka - Dead
Agent
Agent
Agent
Agent
Hiryla
---
Random
---
The shadow lodge agents seem to be in shock after their leader has fallen.
--
Torrian
Kynn
Roary
---
Melkorka - Dead
Agent
Agent
Agent
Agent
Hiryla
---
Random
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