Kalt's head turns quickly in surprise when Bugsby introduces himself, and a smile crosses his face at the gnome's excitable manner. "My apologies, Bugsby. I took you for another of your kind, who was doing some repair work for me. I am usually more observant than that - I must have been distracted by your little explosion. I am Kalt - and yes, I guess you could say this is...exciting."
Avora returns a short while later, now wearing a thick winter coat and adventurer's pack, and toting a spear. A satchel is slung across her torso and thick gloves dangle from her sleeves, tethered to avoid loss.
Kalt has also dressed more warmly, in a woolen cloak, though he is not so heavily bundled against the cold as his Ulfen compatriots.
"I'm ready, Sven. Though the three of us, you, Avora and I, look right fools kitted out for an Icemark winter here in the southlands. No offense intended, Avora - you certainly look much better than Sven in your winter garb."
He scans the faces of all his new-found companions, seeing a mixture of doubt and interest - and unalloyed excitement, in at least one case. "I know it seems odd to say it, here in the mild weather, but if we do run across some of this strange winter, I can try to help you all cope with it. So if it starts getting cold, give me a moment and I'll make sure you're bundled up properly, especially some of you who may not be accustomed to true winters."
Kalt lifts his chin and, strangely enough, sniffs at the wind a moment, his face thoughtful. "Everyone ready? We should be off."
"No offense taken, my friend. I just feel that it is better to be prepared than not. It is easy to shed extra clothing than to seek to add that which one does not have."
As the group sets out to the south, the air is crisp and clear. The comfortable weather rapidly dies out as the miles pass, and the air grows noticeably cooler the closer you come to the forests edge. About 2-3 miles from town, Lachna indicates you've arrived where she found the guardsman, and Kalt takes over tracking. You pass a few intersections, and Kalt has to pause and search the surrounding area for clues as to the correct path. Eventually, about a 3 miles later, the road turns and heads into the forest and it is clear something foul is afoot. The trees are coated in ice and snow, yet the land before the forest is lush in summer greens.
Stepping into the forest, the weather proves far worse than expected, and it becomes no surprise the man left here with frostbite. Even those dressed for the cold still begin to feel its numbing embrace. The road ahead is littered with debris and the corpses of slain humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, it's windows frozen over, and a muffled sound like that of a trapped animal emanate from inside. 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 beyond it's frozen gatekeeper.
Ankih will shake hands with his new comrades, and nod to those out of reach. " I am also interested in travelling to the north , if that is where this leads us to. If not a lady in danger is always a noble quest, and one that my Patron supports. I can fight some and heal some, so will not be a burden. Also I speak Common, Gnoll, Skald and the tongue of the celestial beings. I am Ankih Tohep, itinerate traveller from Katapesh. And I find that this gnome has made me laugh and smile, something I have not had reason to do in a while. It seems being a part of this group will be good for me."
He bows his head after saying this, in slight embarrassment.
" Just allow me some time to gather my things." and leaves to gather his mule and equipment.
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Arriving as the group prepares to leave, Ankih is dressed in winter gear, leading a mule with a pack saddle on it. Hanging on the outside of his coat is a small wooden holy symbol, in the shape of a winged woman holding a sunburst aloft. around his waist is belted a scimitar, a dagger and a dark metal light mace similar to the sword given to the Sven. On his back a pack and a quiver of 3 javelins.
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" Glad I wore the winter gear. Wish I would have brought a blanket for Scarab tho, he's shivering."
Says Ankih from the back of the group. As they approach the site of the ambushed carriages.
Upon spying the bodies he says a prayer." May Sarenrae guide you to your new life. Rest in peace."
" It sounds as if someone may be trapped in the carriage, we should help them." He looks expectantly at the two fighter type friends.
" Mayhap Sven and Kalt will take a look?"
Avora approaches the fallen carriage cautiously, spear at the ready. She does not open the door, preferring to let someone with better armor do that task.
As Sven and Avora approach the carriage, they notice the doors have a broken spear wedged through the handles, and a layer of ice has formed, sealing it in place. From within, there is no response to Sven's call.
Kalt approaches the carriage with Sven and Avora. Hearing no response to Sven's call to whoever, or whatever, is trapped inside, Kalt draws his blade and warns, "Be careful, Sven. That doesn't sound much like a person to me, more like a creature of some kind. It could be locked in there with good cause. Avora, unless you want to be in the thick of things in a moment, you might want to take a step back."
He then moves to stand by Sven's side as the burly man opens the carriage doors. His voice getting even quieter as the moment grows tense, Kalt says, "Found ourselves another misadventure pretty quick, eh, Bjornson? At least we've got a few folk at our back. Uh, here it comes!"
Sven hacks at the ice, sending shards of ice and wood flying before giving it a firm kick. The wood, having grown brittle from the ice and snow, easily gives way and the door shatters. Peering inside, you see what appears to be two ladies in waiting and their attendants. The four of them tumble out of the carriage, falling at the feet of Sven, Kalt and Avora. Sven goes to try and help one of the ladies up, but pauses as he notices their grey flesh and blood covered clothes. As they rise, the gaping wounds on each of their necks make it painfully obvious that these are no longer part of the living.
Kalt mutters "I hate being right about stuff like this," then calmly swings his sword in a flat arc at the zombie in front of him. The former noblewoman's finery is rendered much less fashionable, as Kalt's blade cuts deeply into her animated corpse.
"Gods!" Avora shouts, horrified. She takes a 5-foot step to her right, then turns her attention on the undead nearest her. Her aim is deadly and would have impaled the creature through the head, but at the last second, the undead abomination turns and Avora's spear only grazes it's temple.
Kalts slice nearly splits the body from shoulder to hip, but the necromantic magics the animated the lady remain. Avora's spear strikes true, but seem to do little more than puncture a hole in a dead lung.
Bugsby, shivering mightily in the unexpected cold, stumbles back a step at the appearance of should-be-dead people. Recovering he steps about 10' closer and hurried begins pulling at the air, his insane looking efforts suddenly clear as small bits of green flecks appear to be gathering between his tiny hands, quickly growing bigger and bigger into a ball of green-flecked light. Once he's got a fist-sized mass of light gathered, he suddenly spits into the center of the mass and throws his arms wide, the oily ball shooting forward to land on the ground at Sven's feet. It spreads out of its own accords to cover the ground in a thick oily substance, "Watch your step!" Bugsby shouts happily, the magic he's wielding helping him forget the icicles dangling from his nose and ears.
Lachna, seeing the Zombies, pulls out her warhammer and rushes forward, her legs churning through the snow.
A sheet of grease appears at the feet of most of the Zombies, causing them all to wobble and fall. Undeterred by this inconvenience, they lunge forward. Kalt and Sven easily dodging the blows, however Avora is not so nimble in the snow, and the Zombie slams its meaty fist into her thigh. While no blood comes rushing out over the snow, the strike nearly lays her low.
With a mighty swing, Sven severs the head of the zombie who dared assault Avora. The body collapsing into a pile of flesh and clothing.
Bugsby takes another few steps closer, and leans down to swipe at the ground like he's grabbing at the dirt, but comes up clutching... nothing! However, he begins whispering to his clenched fist and a greenish oozing light bubbles out of his hand like a quickly growing plant. He then throws it at the nearest zombie with an excited shout, "HavesomestickyMrUglyDead!"
A creature that is glued to the floor (or unable to fly) can break free by making a DC 17 Strength check or by dealing 15 points of damage to the goo with a slashing weapon. A creature trying to scrape goo off itself, or another creature assisting, does not need to make an attack roll; hitting the goo is automatic, after which the creature that hit makes a damage roll to see how much of the goo was scraped off. Once free, the creature can move (including flying) at half speed. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must make a concentration check with a DC of 15 + the spell's level or be unable to cast the spell. The goo becomes brittle and fragile after 2d4 rounds, cracking apart and losing its effectiveness. An application of universal solvent to a stuck creature dissolves the alchemical goo immediately. Crafting this item is a DC 25 Craft (alchemy) check.
Avora shrieks in pain and takes a 5-foot step backward in an effort to get out from the combat. It is obvious that the leg pains her greatly and is badly bruised, if not broken. If her opponent pursues, she will fight for her life, lashing out at any enemy that comes near.
" Vile creatures of Undeath! Get yea back from whence you came!"
Yells Ankih as he approaches, standing near Avora with his holy symbol held high.
" Give me a moment Avora and I will heal your leg."
As Kalt raises his sword to strike, he hears Ankih call upon his god to banish the zombies, and sees the wounded one before him fall to the ground. He expertly shifts his aim to the undead horror to his right, slashing the creature through the hip-bone and severing a leg as it falls to the ground and is still.
The holy nimbus blasts into the surviving Zombie, clearly weaking the vile magics that have animated it.
Lachna rumbles forward, cutting off the last approach to Avora and raising her warhammer high, ready to strike if the monster approaches.
The last zombie claws it's way along the ground toward Avora, coming against the wall created by Lachna and Sven. Lachna's strike hits hard on its back, but the dead flesh doesn't seem affected.
Avora grits her teeth and gasps in pain, holding her leg. Silver tears roll freely down her cheeks as she gingerly tests putting weight on it, only to cry out again.
Kalt takes a quick step around the crawling zombie, aiming to slice the creature in half from behind. "Leave her alone, beast!" he says fiercely.
The two ulfen warriors swords meet in the middle of the final zombie, and it crumples into the snow. The group looks around, ready for any additional enemies, but the only thing they see is snow covered trees.
Bugsby cheers when the last undead is destroyed "Zaaaawoweee!" and dances a little jig, breath frosting the air around him as he turns a few circles. "Thatwasfun!" he says, when he makes his third rotation, "Look! The sky.. it'satwister!" and starts turning faster and faster, stretching his arms out wide and his feet turning tiny little circles with quickly diminishing skill as he becomes too dizzy to maintain his footing. He trips, landing against and under a bush, the snow covering it tumbling down to swallow the gnome completely, except for two small and disembodied feet, kicking frantically.
Lachna relaxes noticeably when the last zombie has fallen.
"Well, th' was a nasty s'prise. Let's hope there's not more o' them about."
As Ankih has already noted that he will take care of Avora's leg, the dwarf leaves him to it and begins to survey the surroundings. A quick survey tells her that a downed carriage is the least of her concerns. She is more intrigued by the people laying around the ice statue.
What could cause that I wonder?
She looks the statue up and down, trying to see if there's a lever or anything, a button, any holes. She puts her face quite near it, but does not actually touch the statue at all at this point.
At Sven's question she looks up for a moment and looks ponderous, as if trying to remember something.
Lachna examines statue, which turns out to be the remains of the Taldan captain tasked with escorting Lady Argentea. While the torso remains intact, protected by his breastplate emblazoned with Taldran heraldry, you find various body parts of his lying at his feet. One large chunk of ice and limb contain his forearm still grasping a very nice looking longsword.
"Winter-touched c'n be anything, or anyone," she called over her shoulder, before returning to her examination of the statue.
Realizing what the statue actually is, she shook her head in dismay and toed the icy sword with her boot.
"Poor lad," she said. "This looks ter be a nice sword, fer you sword-types. Would be more've a pity fer it ter go t'waste."
Having satisfied her curiosity about the statue, she moves toward the crunched wagon at the edge of the area and begins to examine that instead. She looks it up, down, and all around, looking for any signs of what crunched it.
You find an overturned carriage that appears to have been hacked apart in the search for items of value. Inside, you find the remains of two more attendants and the contents of quite a few of the ladies garment bags strewn about.
Kalt grunts in satisfaction as he and Sven finish off the last of the zombies. ”I told you, leave her alone.”
Like his partner, Kalt takes a moment to catch his breath as he surveys the scene, accepting Sven’s clout on the back with a quick nod. He sees that Sven and Ankih are tending to Avora’s injuries, and joins Lachna in studying the scene. He turns his attention to the ground, the low branches of trees, the tracks in the snow. He tries to determine what was here, and when, and how many there may have been, amidst the chaos of footprints from the first fight and the recent one. As he does so, he racks his brain for the source of the strange things that have gone on here. A man frozen in ice, zombies locked in a carriage, another carriage smashed like a spoiled child’s toy, and ransacked for plunder on top of it. What did this? Winter-touched? Followed by common bandits? And what of the undead here?
Approaching Lachna as he studies the ground, he sees her nudging the frozen man’s sword. Well, that would be fitting, a sword found in the ice for a boy found in the ice. I’ll take a look at that. He moves closer and, squatting down, strikes the frozen hand with the pommel of his sword, the fingers scattering across the ice the way an icicle, falling from a tall soldier pine, will scuttle and skip across the surface of the frozen lake it stands by. He picks up the sword and breaks off one last fingertip before giving the blade an experimental swing, testing its heft and balance and admiring its craftsmanship. ”I might hang on to this, if no one objects. Having given up one sword already to Sven, who’s shown he can use it quite handily on a zombie that’s lying on the ground,” he says with a smirk.
Avora accepts Sven's help in getting to her feet. Her leg threatens to buckle beneath her and she shifts her weight to the opposite leg.
"I-I'm alright," she tells Sven, though it is clearly a lie. Trying to put aside the pain, she searches her memory for any knowledge of wintertouched.
Kalt looks over the land and easily picks up on the fact it seems the bandits that ransacked the carriages loaded a large trunk with their spoils and began dragging it further south, deeper into the woods. He can see that drag marks get deeper every 10-15 feet, as if the trunk paused there for a few seconds before traveling on. While he sees many man sized foot prints, he does not see anything that might resemble the footprints of someone the size of your forearm.
"The wintertouched all have cold-based abilities," Avora says, after a moment's thought. "They are largely fey that have allied with the White Witches of Issisen, though men and beasts have also joined their ranks."
She accidentally puts weight upon her bad leg and winces, moaning aloud and leaning heavily upon Sven for support.