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Tchort thinks as the party discusses dealing with the cold. "I should be able to take care of my self; I can brew an extract that will protect me from the cold. It won't work for anyone else, at least not yet; I haven't figured out yet how to infuse my power into the extract such that I can share it with others. Do we need to stop by the general store for a cold weather outfit for anyone? Or the temple for a potion to protect from the cold?"
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as you travel along to the site Yuln informed you about, it takes a few hours but you do arrive with no trouble or issues
Near the forest, the temperature grows noticeably colder.
The road ahead is littered with debris and the corpses of slain
humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its
team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned
carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. To the
south, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a
statue of ice. A snowy trail leads deeper into the forest.
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Ulric approaches the battle, or was it a massacre?, site warily. Each step into the forest was colder, and more familiar. As much as exploring new places was a passion, he missed the colder climes of home.
"I suppose looking for survivors will be a waste of time, but we should anyway" he says as he approaches the two wagons and the ... statue? Keeping a keen eye out for ambushers.
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Nox approaches the carriages cautiously, bow in hand. A white rabbit pops its head out of the satchel at her side, sniffing the air curiously.
"Even though unlikely, it is proper to look for those in need." A cool wind blows across the area. Her clothes move, but not necessarily in the direction the wind is blowing.
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Yuukyou rubs his hands together, the thicker coat he now wears not a perfect defense against the cold, but better than nothing. He shakes his head as he looks at the devastation. He begins to walk towards the weird statute, looking it up and down his mind ready to invoke powers against it if necessary.
Odd place for a statue...
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Ylosani has changed into the fur trimmed and lined garments he normally reserves for winters. They seem particularly appropriate, now as winter has obviously come early to this land.
He looks sadly on the devastation they find. He draws his bow and knocks an arrow. It is not uncommon for villains to return to the scenes of their crimes and whoever did this may be waiting for more victims to come to investigate.
While the others move in to check bodies and wreckage, he lags behind, his gaze on the tree line on either side of the road. Though he hardly knows these people, they already seem competent and capable of finding any clues that may be hidden in the massacre. Better for him to watch for trouble.
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Tchort pulls a rolled up piece of leather, and unrolls it on the table in front of him. He looks over the pouches, envelopes, and vials contained therein, and selects two vials and an envelope of powder. It only takes him a minute to mix the ingredients together, eyeballing some and carefully measuring the others. Satisfied with the resulting color of the extract he's prepared, he returns the supplies to the leather wrap and rolls it up again, tying it securely. He drinks the extract. "There, I won't have to worry about the cold again until this time tomorrow."
A creature protected by endure elements suffers no harm from being in a hot or cold environment. It can exist comfortably in conditions between –50 and 140 degrees Fahrenheit without having to make Fortitude saves. The creature's equipment is likewise protected.
Endure elements doesn't provide any protection from fire or cold damage, nor does it protect against other environmental hazards such as smoke, lack of air, and so forth.
Tchort slows approaches the statue of ice with Yuukyou. He gently tugs on his white gloves as he approaches the statue, making sure that they're snugged up tightly around his fingers. "This is certainly... unusual. Be wary."
Ensuring his boots are strapped tight, Grindahl dons his armoured coat, pulling up the fur collar at the harsh wind as they press on, his wooden shield, bearing the heraldry of his clan strapped to his arm. Like Ulric, the Ulfen warrior found himself at greater ease here in the wilds, especially far away from prying eyes. As they travel, he answers minor questions about his own life but asks few, preferring to listen and learn. When they find themselves surrounded by obvious death and destruction, the Ulfen frowns and draws the borrowed Cold Iron sword.
"I can smell Fey. Now my companions, I have a secret I wish to share and I hope I will not shock you with this."
He finishes speaking and then breathes out, as if preparing for pain. He then starts to growl and grunt softly as his body changes, becoming more wolf-like, yet still humanoid. His hair changes, its colour draining to become as white as frost and his eyes change to become more canine-esque. Rough fur covers his skin and his muscles bulge.
"This is who I truly am."
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The remains of the Taldan captain tasked with escorting Lady Argentea from Zimar back to Oppara stand here as a gruesome statue, his slain body mostly encased in ice. Something made an example of him for others to find. Unfortunately, the captain’s body is no longer intact, as something carved away pieces of him that now lie in blocks of slowly melting
ice at his feet.
he frozen captain still wears his breastplate,
emblazoned with Taldan heraldry, and one of the chunks
of ice contains the captain’s arm, still grasping his
masterwork longsword.
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Nox's clothes seem to recoil in horror from the dead Taldan, though her face remains fairly passive. "As much as I hate to dishonor the dead, he will not be needing his sword anymore." She mumbles a short prayer as she kneels over the sword. The frozen arm seems to crumble as she lifts the sword off the ground.
"I do not wish to tarry here, but the dead should be properly disposed of. Perhaps we could build a bonfire from the remains of the carriages."
Taken aback from the passive reactions, Grindahl chides himself These are adventurers, hardy folk who expect to fight Fey and Dragons. he thinks as they inspect the guard captain. Unbuckling the man's breastplate, something to return to the man's family, Grindahl nods at Nox's suggestion.
"Aye, a pyre would be good, though perhaps on the way back? I do not see the noble lady present, and smoke may reveal to the Fey that they are being followed..."
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Ulric smiles as the skinwalker reveals his true self, "and a fearsome warrior becomes moreso, well enough kinsman." Desna must truly smile on me, I had only heard of the skinwalkers, now I get to fight alongside one, truly the makings of a great tale.
Looking over the "statue", Ulric frowns at the desecration of the captain's body and agrees, "Aye, a proper pyre when we return, they all deserve better than this." looking over the blade Nox holds, he ventures, "That blade is certainly of better craftsmanship than mine, I can put it to good use, at least until this mystery is settled. Then perhaps the good Captain's family will want it back."
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Tchort raises an eye when Grindahl reveals his transformation. "Very interesting. I've read of this; what a profound secret to have. Secrets are so very, very fun."
When Ulric claims the sword, Tchort nods. "I tend not to use manufactured weapons," he mentions, fingering his gloves. "They've just not been my style; I make no claim on that sword."
He walks a couple of circles around the frozen captain, looking at the ice encasing the man.
"I agree that we should wait to do any burning. The Lady Argentea is still at large, so time is essential. Grindahl is correct that a fire may alert... whomever we pursue. Best to be cautious, yet quick, from now on."
"Though, some time to search these carriages could be valuable; her captors left a good sword and breastplate behind; there may be other useful items in the carriages." He approaches what appears to be the lead carriage and checks the door for traps before opening it to see what's inside.
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Not everyone is quite so sanguine about Grindahl's transformation. It is fortunate that he warns the party about what is going to come. This would not be the first time a group of people have gone out to fight the forces of evil only to find that evil has infiltrated their ranks. The Bow of the Southern Winds whispers tale after tale of such betrayals that it has witnessed into his mind.
He looks like he could be some sort of strange fey or one of their servants.
The fact that he reveals himself and does not immediately attack reassures Ylosani of his good intentions but still, for a second or two, Grindahl has a drawn bow aimed at him.
Much as he respects the dead, he knows that they have no use for material goods and these slain men would likely want their possessions to be put to good use in finishing the task they could not so he watches the removal of the captain's weapon without comment.
"Perhaps there are tracks?" he suggests as he moves toward the overturn carriage to examine its contents.
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"My thanks, I will put this fine blade to good use" Ulric says as he transfers his well worn longsword to his pack and wields the new one, taking an expirimental swing or two.
Lighter and thinner than my broadsword, but masterfully balanced. Looks to have an excellent edge, good steel, hard steel, made by an expert.
Seeing the party congregating around the wagons, he also approaches, sword and shield ready and keeping an eye to the wood edge. "Be wary, they left the captain as a warning, they may also have left traps."
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Tchort unfortunately with so many things that could have frozen him, its hard to tell which actually did it with out catching them in the act. though as you look around, and inspect the carriages, the one that isn't on its side and almost destroyed looks like there is an axe head wedged in between the door and frame of the cart.
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Nox concedes that the bonfire may need to wait. "Very well. The cold should discourage decomposition anyway."
She strides over to the carriage Tchort is examining and knocks. "Is anyone in there?" she asks. She shrugs. "It's only polite to ask before opening."
She steps back to allow someone to remove the axe and open the door.
"Be wary, they left the captain as a warning, they may also have left traps."
"Indeed, it might be prudent to investigate." She takes another step back from the carriage. Her cloak seems to raise itself up a bit as if in a defensive gesture.
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Ulric approaches the wagon that his companions are investigating. Hearing the muffled movements inside, he comments.
"They couldn't have locked a survivor in? Could they? No, they would have frozen by now... right?" raising his shield he turns to Grindahl, "feels like a trap, does it smell like one?"
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Yuukyou sticks his hands into one of the pouch at his belt and withdraws a few... marbles? He nods at his ally holding the door, holding up the marble as if he were aiming a bow.
Speak now. We will break down the door soon. If you are not one of the vile fey who did this, you have nothing to fear from us.
Tensing as the Elf's bow is trained on him, Grindahl releaxes slightly when Ylosani begins to examine the place and seems to trust him for now. He is used to the reaction and chides himself for thinking all is well just because one or two don't jump at his appearance. Stalking towards the Carriage, with borrowed blade and shield drawn he examines the axe head with interest, wondering if the make was Ulfen, Taldan or beyond.
Hearing the muffled thumps he waits patiently. "Aye, we have your back friend."
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Tchort nods as the others gather around the carriage. He grips the axe head that holds the door shut tightly. Steal the lady, freeze the captain, let one guard escape, gag and lock another in the carriage? Fey are fickle and mysterious; it could just be.
With as much strength as he can muster, Tchort pulls the axe head from the door seam and flings the door open, stepping aside as he does.
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Ulric readies his blade and shield just in case as the man with the fine white gloves prepares to open the door.
Hopefully there will be survivors in there that will give us some idea of what happened. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?
Muttering to the Ulfen warrior next to him, "Be ready, it seems strange survirors would not call for help when we arrived. I fear we may not like what comes out of this carriage."
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Feeling the spot between his shoulder blades itch as Ysolani draws his bow behind him, Grindahl shrugs off the minor dread and gripa the leather bound grip of his borrowed sword tightly as he backs up Tchort grabbing at the axe head. Should there be kinsman inside he would be relieved, though it may be hard to explain his fey-cursed appearance. If instead it turned out to be foe he would take out his rage upon the wretches and gladly expunge their treachery.
"I am ready Cousin." he says with steely determination.
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Can't say that was surprising! Ulric thinks to himself as whatever it is.
What is it anyway
No matter, it is hostile
Ulric moves next to Tchort and takes a cut at the thing that assaulted he of the fine white gloves.
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Ylosani fires but in his haste just skirted the zombies shoulders
Nox following the same lead fires, but just hits, and though the arrow hit its mark, the creature seems unaffected in every means
Ulric thought he might have known but just can't decide on any one thing, so as he goes to swing, its almost as if the creature saw it coming and sidestepped out of the way
~Round 1~
Knowledge Religion to ID
Ylosani
Nox
Ulric
Grindahl
Tchort
Yuukyou
Blue
Red
Striding forwards as the creatures burst free from their hiding place, Grindahl spins his borrowed sword before rushing at the first creature to attack his companions. With a low growl, the Ulfen warrior lashes out with the cold Iron blade, fangs in a grimace.
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Seeing the undead creatures, yuukyou clenches the marble in his fist. His eyes glow with rainbow light and his voice takes on a odd reverb. "Your mind is mine!"
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"Whoa!" Tchort yells, loudly, as he's bowled over by the captive man from inside the carriage. While he doesn't understand why the man would be attacking, he recognizes a threat for what it is, and reacts accordingly.
He quickly tugs on each wrist of his gloves alternately, causing sharp claws to tear through the ends of each glove in turn. His face wrinkles into an angry twist, and he strikes out with both claws at his attacker.
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