At one point in the distant past the barrow was sealed, but the stone that plugged the entrance has long since succumbed to the passage of time and weather; it lies in pieces, covered with moss. Crouching down, you enter a passageway that is choked with the dust of ages, and which opens into a wide circular space that is almost high enough for you to stand up in. The air is stale, but breathable. Everything in the barrow suggests you are the first people in here since it was constructed, long ago.
The ancient skeletons of perhaps 20 or so dwarves lie in carefully-placed niches within the barrow, their arms folded across their chest. Alongside each of the bodies are the rusted and pitted remains of axes, warhammers, and the occasional pickaxe.
At the epicentre of the barrow is a raised sepulchre, its stone lid still intact and sealed. On the sepulchre are more runes - these ones have been shielded from the elements and are thus legible.
Thane of Clan Golka
Torag's Faithful to the Last
Raquel quietly studies the tomb, looking around in reverent awe. She does not disturb the dwarves' remains, but once back outside, she pours out some alcohol onto the snowy ground in salute. "For the departed."
She resolves to tell Kazgar about the find in a letter.
Entering the barrow, Nariel is grateful to be out of the cold even if it meant entering a burial place. Rubbing her hands together and heating them with her own breath, she makes her way to back of the barrow and reads aloud from the sepulcher runes, first in dwarven and then again in common "Herein lies Takyn, son of Josht." Deciding to write down the names for posterity, Nariel grabs a sheet of paper and scrawls the runes down. "You never know if or when this kind of information comes in useful."
Heading outside again, Nariel looks back the northeast some what neutrally "So, back to the outpost or continue south. As much as this weather is chilling me to the bone, we have provisions enough to continue, no?"
"Not sure anything in here counts as a relic except in the broadest sense of the word," Tristan says. He nods to the dwarven remains as they depart again. "Sorry to barge in, friends. Sleep well."
Tristan very much wanted to return to the trade post, but they were already near the western border of the chartered area. It only made sense to explore the areas on their return path as well. It's what they were here for, after all.
The seasons may change, but the weather has not; you are treated to icy blasts of wind, which whip up the fallen snow, flinging it into your faces and down the back of your neck. Still, you - and your luckless mounts - persevere, even though the supplies dwindle and the number of days since you had a hot meal increases further.
The plains to the South of where you found the barrow are remarkable only for being unremarkable; and after four more days of journeying West, you turn your mounts to explore the lands to the East, heading back towards the trading post and civilisation. This takes you back through the stark forest, with the bare branches outlined against the sky. After several more days of exploration, you are drawn by the sound of rushing water, and you locate the source of the Thorn River, where it emerges above ground, fed by some subterranean spring.
The water itself is icy cold, but it runs free and clear; and along the sides of the river-bank you can see the first green shoots of grass starting to push through where the water is carrying the snow away...
Raquel grins when they find the headwaters of the river. "A wondrous site! It's a bit too cold for a swim still, though. We'll have to come back in a few months and go for a relaxing dip. Clothing optional, perhaps?" The cleric chuckles--it's difficult to tell if she's joking or not.
The signs of coming spring warm Raquel's heart. Soon, their task will be a much more pleasant one!
The Orlovsky can't help but raise an eyebrow upon hearing the suggestion they ought to go swimming here. It isn't so much the swimming part, but the stated detail it should be done naked. However, temporary bemusement aside, it's clear and plain to see that he's in awe of the sight. "Now I'm truly sad that I didn't bring my sketch book. No, not to draw that!" he says with a grin.
"Darned winter. But no matter how many times it sighs its frosty breath down my neck, sights like these makes suffering them a worthwhile undertaking," he exalts.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"If you're interested, Aivar, I'd be happy to pose for you anytime," Raquel says mischievously. She stretches her arms over her head, pouting her lips as she strikes a comically sultry pose "Ooh, draw me like one of your Galtan girls!" she moans.
Dismounting, Nariel makes her way over to where the first signs of spring are sprouting. Crouching down, Nariel runs her hand over the grass and smiles. Speaking quietly to herself, she quietly speaks in elven "Tyela, tehtar en' sprien."
Moving in beside the others, Nariel looks at the spring serenely. "It is lovely; reminds me of home." Glancing at over at Raquel somewhat puzzled, Nariel adds "Why would one swim in their clothes? Must be a human thing." Shrugging, Nariel grabs Hrive's reigns and leads the horse to the water for a drink.
"Lord Winter begins to lose his grip at last," Tristan says happily. "About time."
Though with the end of winter comes trouble in the shape of the Stag Lord and his murderous flunkies, apparently. Aie.
Tristan walks over to the spring and kneeling besides it, plunges his left hand into the crystal clear waters. He holds it there for only a moment before withdrawing it with a cry halfway between gasp and laugh. He drops a bit of the icey water into his mouth before burying his half-frozen hand into the layers of his clothing, nestling it near the core of his body to warm it again.
"Sweet as any water you've ever tasted, and cold as death itself," he says, still laughing at the shock. "What a combination."
The suggestion - even in jest - causes the paladin to gulp. Dry lips part and, as if the act could somehow grand him resolve, Aivar wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "Eh, well, I mostly draw flora and fauna, I don't think I'd do you any justice. My skills are those of a novice, at best."
His tall form then sinks down to the ground, where he sits down upon a rock. "T'is anything but where I'm from. Mountains and hills, hardy people and - at times - foreboding mist banks that sink down into the valleys that leave you chilled to the bone."
Tristan's word bring a smile to his face as a vision pops up into his head, of how one day, when civilization and order are brought to this place, someone like Raquel could be running a brewery around this spot.
Leaving the headwaters of the river behind, you head East, coincidentally following the path of the Thorn River before it turns aside and runs away to the Southeast and beyond. The chill air is still bitingly cold, and the wind when it blows can cut like a knife, but there is no further snowfall.
After another four days of exploration, you start to run into problems. Maybe it's just that you've been away for too long, maybe it's just bad luck; but Tristan finds one lunchtime that 3 days' worth of dried fruit have gone missing from his rations. Then Raquel finds that her flask is missing from her belt - retracing your steps (an easy matter in the snow), you find it lying to the side of your trail, completely empty.
As Raquel picks up the flask, noting that its stopper is still in, there's an almighty *crash* as Arianna's saddle gives way and she topples sideways off her horse and into the snow! The strap on the saddle is still intact, but the buckle must have somehow come loose.
Aivar has just finished refitting the saddle to the horse, and helped Arianna back into the saddle when he discovers - too late - that the laces on his boots have twined together! He too pitches face-first into the cold snow.
Startled as Aivar falls over, Nariel takes a step back. Before anyone can say anything, Nariel gestures towards her friends to keep quiet. In an almost whisper tone, Nariel goes "Hang on, does anyone hear that? It sounds like laughter?"
Stepping forward slowly, Nariel says in cautious but non-confrontational tone in the common tongue "Hello? Is anyone there?" Nariel steps forward again, this time a few steps away from the others as she repeats her inquiry in different languages*. Looking back at the others, Nariel whispers again "By Nethys, I swear I heard laughter."
"What the ... ?!" mumbles a man with a mouth full of snow. His teeth are screaming icy murder.
The world is greeted by a grimace as he stands up while padding clingy snow off his clothes with both hands. Whatever sound or noise Nariel might be hearing, Aivar's ears fail to register it. Must be those legendary Elvish senses at work. "I'm sure you did because whoever tied my laces together got me good."
"And they stole my flask!" Raquel says, waving it around angrily. "If anything is a cardinal offense against a Caydenite, it's taking their booze!"
Despite her own ungraceful fall a minute ago, Arianna can't help but laugh a little when Aivar stands up covered in snow. She double-checks her saddle. "Well, we haven't been attacked, so if there's something there it can't be too malicious. Reminds me of my older brother dropping snowballs down the back of my shirt, lemme tell ya, it was funny but it wasn't fun in the moment."
A small, piping, voice calls out from mid-air in reply to Nariel.
"No! There's nobody here but us trees!"
This time there's definitely laughter.
Without moving, Nariel's eyes dart towards where the voice seems to be resonating from. Gradually, a mischievous smile grows on Nariel as she looks about. Taking several slow, but graceful steps forward, Nariel speaks in the sylvan tongue in response, her tone playful and impish "Right, just the trees, of course." Pausing, Nariel stops dead in her tracks and pouts teasingly "Hold a minute though, aren't Treants the only trees that speak? Heavens, does that mean we're surrounded by Treants?"
Glancing back at the others, Nariel smiles broadly with an expression of reassurance to her comrades, as if to say we're not in any danger.
There's some hasty whispering - and a bit more laughter - before the voice calls out (this time in the Common tongue): "Yes, you're surrounded by treants! Give us your sweeties and we'll let you pass!" There's some more urgent whispering. "An' more of that drink that was in the flask!"
There's some more laughter, and two small figures - no larger than housecats - appear out of thin air some distance from you. The first has the body of a beautiful young woman with the legs and lower body of a grasshopper, while the second is a tiny dragon with shimmering, iridescent wings.
The young woman gives a peal of laughter. "Sorry. We're sorry. We're not treants! We was just having fun with you." She flies effortlessly down, landing on Aivar's shoulder. One tiny hand brushes some more of the snow off him. "It was Perl that tripped you, only cos I said how strong and handsome you are."
The dragon-creature splutters slightly, but this doesn't prevent him from landing on Arianna's hair, which he brushes through absently with a claw. "An' I only did that cos you knocked this one out of her horse after I said I liked her hair! I didn't say I liked it more than yours, Tyg!"
The grasshopper-girl folds her arms. "So? An who stole the drink an drank it all hisself? An stole that candy-fruit?"
"Hah! You're the one that wanted me to see if they had any sweeties - an you ate most of it, greedy-guts!"
"Well, fine! Imma gonna talk to these nice people instead!"
"Well, fine! Imma gonna do the same thing!"
"No, I thought of it first!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
The girl appears to be a grig (a small generally benign fey; they excel at music, and can create lively ditties simply by sawing their legs against their bodies. Grig music often stirs people to dance, even when the grigs don’t enhance their music with supernatural compulsions. In addition to loving music, grigs enjoy the visual arts, especially paintings and sketches, and they often decorate their homes with bright colors and delightful images).
The other one is a fairy dragon (exotic and generally friendly creatures, although not much is known about them. They have a breath weapon, but it is mostly harmless).
Raquel's consternation turns to delight as the faerie creatures reveal themselves. She had picked up their language even though she had never encountered them directly before. "Ah, hello, little ones!" she calls out in Sylvan. "If it's more ale you want, all you have to do is ask. Cayden Cailean provides for his faithful!"
Focusing on her empty flask, the cleric prays to her god for another round. It glows faintly before filling up with ale. She offers it to the little dragon. "Drink, and be merry!"
Arianna may not know what these creatures are but she's no less enthused. "Oh, oh hello! Haha! Do you two live out here?"
Tristan blinks a couple of times as the diminutive figures emerge and nonchalantly flit about and/or land upon the group.
"Not even a couple of months out here and I've gone completely hooting mad. Disappointing. I thought I'd last longer."
"When we return, you'll have to tell me of Andoran," she calls to the retreating sergeant.
When the fey reveal themselves, Sasha's eyes grow wide. She does her best to contain her excitement and moves her horse close to Arriana, transfixed by the adorably tiny dragon.
The halfling turns on the spot, and gives you a smile: "Ah, that's a much happier topic of conversation! Always happy to jabber about the homeland - but you'll want to leave a proper amount of time for it..." With a bow, he does a light-footed about face and leaves.
The little dragon's eyes grow wide as Raquel proffers her flask in his direction. "Ooo ooo ooo! ... but ... maybe you should offer some to Tyg first. She's right, I didn't do the sharing very good. Sorry Tyg!"
The grasshopper-girl unfolds her arms from across her (bare) chest. "Well... I'm sorry that I ate most of the sweeties. It was good of you to get them for me."
"Friends?"
"Friends!"
Taking flight from their respective perches, they do a little dance around each other in mid-air, before seemingly remembering that they're not alone. The grasshopper-girl coughs. "So, hello. I'm Tyg-tytter-tut. But my friends call me Tyg." She flies down and deftly swipes the flask from Raquel, drinking its contents with gusto. "You can call me Tyg."
"An' I'm Perlivash!" Not to be outdone, the little dragon swoops past, snagging the flask from Tyg, before flying a loop the loop in front of Sasha. "My friends call me Perl."
"Yes, an we's sorry for the little jokes. We dursen't know if you was the bad bigginses or not, so we thought to check first."
"But if you're not the bad bigginses, are you here to kick them out?
"You won't find them here now, though, they goes away when it's cold. We dursen't know where they goes."
"But they always comes back to same place. Yes, they always comes back."
"We dursen't like them, but we dursen't act against them. They serves-"
Quick as a flash, the little dragon swoops down and puts a paw across Tyg's mouth. "Tyg-tytter-Tut! You knows better than that!"
"Mmmf!" Tyg fights her way free. "I wasn't going to say a name, Perl! Honestly, you should have more faith in your friends. I'm not stupid Perl, I knows better than to talk about the Quee-"
She claps a hand across her own mouth this time, eyes wide in horror.
Perl's mouth hangs open, for once speechless.
Still somewhat stunned at conversing with the figures, Tristan nevertheless decides to take a chance.
"The Queen? Is this the same one the Stag Lord serves? Well, no matter - it is obvious you do not wish to speak of it, and we don't wish to make you uncomfortable. Because, of course, we are not the bad biggin... er, we're not the bad ones. I imagine we'd all like to think of ourselves as the good ones, but that's really for you to decide for yourselves, isn't it? My name is Tristan Aislin and I am pleased to meet you, mysterious though you are to me."
Raquel refills the flask and hands it to the girl, hoping the ale will loosen her tongue.
Delighted by the appearance of the creatures, Nariel claps lightly and lightly giggles at their antics. "Oh, no need to apologize! Your jests were quite welcome, a refreshing break from the ordinary." Judging by Nariel's tone, it's clear that she meant what she said, and was truly delighted by the appearance of the these pixie-like critters.
As the two banter among themselves, Nariel listens intently and grows apologetic in tone as they suddenly go silent speaking of the queen "Oh no little ones, no, do not be afraid to speak to my companions and I. As Tristin said, we are indeed trustworthy." Walking towards Perl, Nariel inquires gently "Perl, Tyg... is there somebody the bad bigginses serve? Anything you feel you can tell us, I'm sure my friends and I would be most grateful to you." Glancing over at Tyg, Nariel smiles and adds "I'd like to think that now that we are friends, you can help us be ready for any danger the bad bigginses might pose to us."
"The Queen? "
Both Tyg and Perl give a cry of absolute horror and flee as fast as they can!
The next week is even colder than it has been previously - an almost supernatural chill that seems to penetrate every layer of protective clothing. Only those warded by magical aid are able to keep it out. It makes for slow going, since the fallen snow freezes over into ice. Nevertheless, you keep plodding Eastward. It's not as if you have a choice, after all.
Three or four days after your encounter with Tyg and Perl, you leave the Thorn River, as it curves around to the South, flowing into the Kameland Hills. The forest here is still deeply shrouded in snow, which crunches icily beneath the hooves of your horses.
Rounding a bend in the dense woodland, you find yourselves in a clearing where a number of small, ugly, blue-skinned critters are digging through the frozen snow, pulling out and eating tubers that look very much like the description Svetlana gave you of what moon radishes look like.
As soon as they see you, they leap to their feet, drawing daggers!
Raquel is disappointed when the fey creatures suddenly flee. "It's probably because we haven't bathed in a few weeks."
Cayden's magic keeps her safe from the biting cold, but it hurts to see her companions suffering.
When she sees the little creatures chomping on the radishes, she draws her rapier and starts moving towards them. "Hey! Hands off the radishes, blue meanies! I'm going to make them into wine!"
As the little ones flee, Tristan sits his horse in confusion. Then he shrugs. "Don't mention the 'Queen', then. Got it."
With the help of his warmer clothing, it seems that Tristan has acclimated to the cold, able to travel on with the group without the feeling of slowly being drained of the will to live.
Coming upon the blue creatures, Raquel seems to take umbrage to the fact they are trying to eat. "Hold, Raquel! You can't blame them for wanting a meal!" Remembering his failure with the previous people, or creatures, or whatever they were, Tristan hopes to do better this time, he dismounts, hands up clearly not holding a weapon.
"Greetings! We mean you no harm!"
Arianna doesn't feel the cold, and her horse continues to be stubborn and tough and if he feels the cold he does not show it.
As they come upon the mites, Arianna dismounts and shouts, "Tristan these are wicked fey! I don't think they'll talk much!" And she advances to support Raquel.
As the little ones flee, Tristan sits his horse in confusion. Then he shrugs. "Don't mention the 'Queen', then. Got it."
The world around you suddenly fractures, like a mirror struck by a stone...
You are find yourself alone in the wilderness. The trees - the land itself - subjects you to hostile scrutiny; you become terribly aware that you are alone. And hated. Hated personally, with an intensity that goes beyond any human understanding of the word.
This land does not belong to the world of men. It belongs to another - and She will be here soon to claim it for herself. Your only hope for survival is to bow to her - RIGHT NOW.
You start to sink to one knee, but gradually your conscious mind resists, asserting itself; and you escape the waking dream - this time.
You find yourself back where you were, surrounded once again by your companions. No time seems to have passed, but the chill running through your bones tells you that this was more than some waking dream...
Disappointed to see the friendly creatures flee, Nariel shrugs "Well, maybe we'll see them again sometime."
Continuing on proves very difficult for Nariel, the winter beginning to chill her more slight elven form to the core. Before long, Ayluin starts to screetch alerting the others to his masters state. Nariel looks to others desperately "I... I don't know if I can go on..." before finishing her sentence, Nariel slumps over in saddle.
The encounter with the fey had given Aivar food for thought, but the ongoing frigid assault made thinking hard. Very hard. The man's teeth clatter audibly and almost continually he's rubbing his horse's flank and neck with one hand, knowing the creature is suffering for his cause. So, it takes him more than a second to realize the dagger-wielding blue bastards are an actual threat. Asmodeus's burning ba.. !
Aivar dismounts and strides forward, the butt end of his glaive pointing forward. It takes only the snap of the wrist to launch the wicked blade forward, to have it sing its deadly song.
After wresting his mind back from the mirror-world. Tristan stands, stunned and bone-cold, for a moment. He looks around at his companions who seem not to have shared his experience.
Not a dream. Definitely not just a dream.
There was something powerful in this land. And it didn't like them.
After hearing more details, the cleric frowns. "I guess we know why the faeries were so scared. Better not talk about You-Know-Who until we can find out more information."
Sasha cries out as Perl flies away, her hand so close to the fey's scaly head. All she wanted in the world at that moment was to pet the tiny dragon, but her dream was denied. She shoots Tristan a hurt look.
"Why'd you do that?" she pouts, looking for a moment like a girl much younger. Her expression hardens when she notices his troubled look. After he explains his vision, she frowns. "That's... odd. Have you seen things like that before? Does saying Queen make it happen to anybody?" She looks around, anticipating a vision of her own.
---
Sasha hops off of her horse and draws her bow from its scabbard. "Yuck," she exclaims, looking at the hideous blue fey. "Bring back the cute ones, please."
Tristan's words have no effect on the tiny blue creatures, who charge forward screaming unintelligible war cries. Their intent is definitely hostile.
One of the creatures attacks Raquel, whose protective magic doesn't seem to have any effect. Its small dagger bounces finds a gap in her armour, drawing blood.
Two more charge at Aivar, seeing the armoured man as a clear threat; one of them misses but the other one's ferocity belies its size and the knife sinks into his thigh.
The final one charges screaming at Tristan, but its slash misses the bard by quite some distance.
Aivar 10 hit points, 4 Non-lethal damage
Arianna 10 hit points
Nariel 6 hit points, 7 Non-lethal, unconscious
Raquel 8 hit points
Sasha 9 hit points, 4 Non-lethal
Tristan 8 hit points, 4 Non-lethal
Raquel looks over her shoulder in concern as Nariel slumps in her saddle. The momentary distraction gives her opponent an opening, and she hisses in pain as its dagger nicks her. "Ouch! I'll teach you to give me a little prick!"
She thrusts her rapier at her foe, but fails to compensate for its short stature and pierces only the air above its head.
Retribution bellows its answer to the Mite's charge. Immediately after, Aivar finds himself surrounded by the creatures and fumbles back, foot sinking deeper into the snow than expected. throwing his next attack off wide.
Arianna doesn't let herself get distracted, right now the focus is on making sure that Raquel doesn't get mobbed. She steps forward and gives one of the mites a swift kick in the mouth.
"Blasted blue idiots! I'm trying to be nice!" Tristan says as he sidesteps the charge. He pulls his rapier from its sheath and returns the favor, trying to take the creature in the shoulder and avoid any immediately lethal wounds.
Sasha takes a breath and knocks an arrow to her bowstring. Slowly releasing it, she fires an arrow at one of the mites threatening to surround Raquel. She had to be careful with her shots in the melee, better to miss everything than miss and hit her friends.
Aivar's pre-emptive attack severs the small blue creature almost in two; black blood drips from the blade of his glaive, steaming as it hits the frozen snow.
His follow up attack misses entirely, as does Raquel's. Tristan and Arianna have more success, although Tristan finds that the creatures are more resilient than they look and his rapier almost bounces off. Arianna's kick does just enough damage to take her opponent out of the fight.
Sasha aims carefully and her attack hits, although she also finds that her arrow almost bounces off her target, inflicting minimal damage.
The mites, seemingly exhausted by their earlier wild charge, miss with their attacks.
Red 1 damage
Yellow 1 damage
Aivar 10 hit points, 4 Non-lethal damage
Arianna 10 hit points
Nariel 6 hit points, 7 Non-lethal, unconscious
Raquel 8 hit points
Sasha 9 hit points, 4 Non-lethal
Tristan 8 hit points, 4 Non-lethal
Raquel stabs the mite right in the eye!
"That's... odd. Have you seen things like that before? Does saying Queen make it happen to anybody?" She looks around, anticipating a vision of her own.
Nothing happens, at least at first, and then nothing continues to happen.
Or... does it? After all, you've heard the old stories about the fey, and how they excel above all else in illusions, in showing things not as they are but as they wish to be seen. What if...what if something has happened, but you just can't see it?
Or - worse - what if it's not illusions you have to be worried about? Aren't the fey also renowned for mind control? What if something truly significant has happened, but you just don't remember it? How would you tell if you have changed if you can't remember it? And as for your companions - do you really think that after only a few months together you'd actually be able to tell if one of them was enchanted? How well do you know them, really?
And how well do they know you? Would they still want you on this expedition if they truly knew who you are and what your history is? And what use are you, anyway? Do these priests and warriors and scholars actually need a spoilt child in their midst? Isn't that what your Father would call you, right now - an ungrateful, spoilt little girl? You can hear his voice now: Who do you think you are fooling, kiska? Go to your room now, before you make me any angrier!
"Push the advantage! Victory is within our grasp!" Sometimes, all you need is that little push in the back when things are starting to go well. Aivar, however, needed more than just that.
Tristan begins to circle around his foe, opening it's back to his companions. He attacks again, hoping to cut hard enough to sink deeper into the creature's strangely resilient flesh.
Arianna moves to support Tristan and elbows the mite in the back of the head, right at the base of the skull, angling to end it with one swift strike.
Sasha curses when she sees her hit barely register on the mite. She knew something of fey and their vulnerability to cold iron, but she didn't have any. She'd just have try and hit the next one harder.
Sasha knocks another arrow and aims for the eye of the same mite.