"Yes! That would help," says the ever more indistinct girl, "Tell mummy not to give that mean Witchip... not to give Lady Nazhena... any of the tribute. That food needs to go to the villagers. The baroness shouldn't have killed me. That wasn't the deal. Mummy will be mad, just like you are mad - probably even madder. Like times a thou-sand!"
Ishbaad breaths a giant, slow breath out, exhaling the tension and anxiety of battle. He pauses for a moment, allowing Aoife to converse with the spirit of the formerly tormented girl.
"Child, where is your village? Who is the baroness? What is your mother's name? I apologize for the questions, I know you would like to go rest. Iomedae smiles on you, and you no longer have to be afraid of anything. Because of your courage, we can make sure no one ever will have to fear Witchipoo nasty-pants again." His smile is very similar to the genuine one he shares with Aoife, his adoptive niece. He reaches to pat the girl on the shoulder, but stops mid-way, realizing it won't do any good.
"Be at peace dear."
Ishbaad stands back up from a crouch to his full height. He straps his gear back on, and watches the apparition disappear.
Ishbaad searches the doll, and the hut for any clues to the witchcraft.
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"Me thinks me will call this witch 'Silly Witchipoo'. In any case, someone who would do this to you is no lady. Me is goblin, and even me know that! Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is sorry that me burned you, but me needed to protect Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's friends. Me hope you understand, and me will make sure to burn silly Witchipoo for what she did to you. "
"Where is your mother, little child? Is she in Waldsby? We will make sure she is well." Kuragin refrains for making any promises to the baroness. Actually, he finds the whole idea abhorrent. He doesn't have much love for the baroness, or any of Elvanna's blood. But spending a few weeks in the southern lands does not wash away the lifetime of fear towards the nobles. The Jadwiga refugee just hopes his companions aren't too keen on their righteous revenge.
Now that the battle is over, Kuragin returns to studying the magic from within the hut. Was it just the doll I saw, or is there something else?
"The baroness is Lady Nazhena, stone man," replies Thora as though explaining to a younger child, "Mother's name is... um... 'Mummy' of course, silly! She might be in Waalz-Bee, but maybe she's getting the tribute. She lives in Waalz-Bee, though. Auntie Kashka can probably tell you where she is... or my little buddy Hatch! Ooh, can you warn Hatch to stop calling the baroness 'Witchipoo'? If she hears him say it, she might hurt him with magic, too! Don't you call her that, neither. She's SO MEAN!!!"
Thora's image fades until she is almost gone, "Thank you friends!" she says, waving her hand vigorously, "Say 'hi' to Mummy for me!" With that, she is gone.
Behind her, the doll continues to stare ominously with its gem and mirror at the group.
Kuragin remembers something from the back of his mind, triggered by looking at the doll's eyes. The gem eye will be worth quite a bit , but the mirror... he realizes that these guardian doll's are not just powerful creatures themselves, their mirror eyes can act as the eyes for the winter witches themselves!
A very faint glow of divination magic is currently emanating from the doll's mirrored eye, but no other magical auras are found in the hut or surrounding area. The hut itself contains only a small doll's chair and is in every way a mundane, newly constructed hut... albeit with very strangely shaped chicken legs. In fact, they appear to be the natural shape of the tree trunks chosen for the hut's stilts, and not carved to look that way.
With the knowledge that the mirror is the sightglass for the witch, Ishbaad calmly walks over, bringing his stony face close to the mirrored eye.
"You shouldn't have done that. Those who rule through fear and tyranny will burn in the righteous flames of Iomedae. Your days are numbered, devil."
And with that, he brings his heavy mace to bear, smashing the doll, making sure to shatter the mirror with it. Pocketing the jewel, he stands up, ready to keep moving towards the portal.
"Aoife, it seems fate is calling us to more than just finding your father. We will not rest in our search, but it seems we have some other business to take care of while we search for more answers. I am glad you feel so drawn to defending Thora's honor, and bringing her tormentor to justice. I am not surprised though. You have more strength in your heart and soul than most people see in a lifetime. Take courage in that."
The trail continues through a narrow pass, descending south and east into an icy valley. An unusual pattern of lines is scratched into the fresh snow covering the trail at the edge of the clearing.
The unusual pattern is actually an inscription, written in poorly practiced Taldan:
"Turn back before the winter devours you"
Unwilling to listen to such silly warnings, and unable to see the true danger, the companions continue along only to suffer a massive blast of icy cold as a glyph of warding explodes at the far end of the path when they cross it.
A cold wind blows through the valley, bringing a spray of sleet and broken ice. The sky ahead roils with thick, gray clouds and the sun is only a dim glow somewhere in the mist.
As the group wanders determinedly through the blinding spray, but is set upon by a wounded giant weasel. This one is identical to the one they faced earlier, but the limited vision makes it much harder to hit.
Killing this weasel as efficiently as they did the first, the group moves ever onward through the frozen valley. The cold is almost becoming unbearable, even for those with winter cloaks. As ever, Kuragin is the only one who seems unaffected - though Jorvik does a good enough job of hiding his shivering.
The path eventually winds its way back east, and starts to rise again. After another hour of hard marching, Kuragin and Jorvik recognize a stand of trees around an old statue to some unnamed hero that they had seen before. They inform the others that they are probably only a few minutes from the winter portal. Both note that the snow here is much, much deeper than it was when they first traveled here from Irrisen.
"That statue looks familiar, we are close to the portal. Now, but Irrisen will be different than your southern lands. Say your farewells to the warm weathers of Taldor, and be careful once we're on the other side," Kuragin warns the others. Not sure if the queen has left the portal unguarded, the witch takes his new magical wand and casts the Mage Armor spell to protect himself.
The glyph is a stinging reminder that despite their best efforts to remain vigilant, there are some things that may be out of their control as they venture further into the ice and snow. The ever deepening snow and cold mirrors the ever deepening area of unknowns that the group walks into. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is a shining reminder of the groups capability and perseverance as he uses the wand to heal the groups icy wounds.
Further down the trail, Ishbaad again coaches Aoife through the assault on the second giant ermine, once again admiring its size and beauty. The child is getting better, more fluid, it is plain for everyone to see. The ermine did not stand a chance.
Ishbaad nods when Kurigan mentions they are getting close.
Going through the portal? I guess I figured that was an eventuality. I must have missed something... Though logically that must be the only way to get to Thora's village...
"We are ready for any guardians that may be there." He says as he looks to Aoife and his other companions.
They are no doubt, not ready for us...
Still embarrassed form his flight from the child/doll, Jorvik is determined to show his companions how a son of the North comports himself. Stepping in front of Aoife, blocking her from landing a solid blow on the giant weasel, Jorvik swings wildly with his hammer. He quickly recovers and manages to land some damage before they bring the giant weasel down.
As they advance down the path, he tries to conceal that even he is beginning to suffer from the relentless cold. Although he is used to such climates, a body can only take so much. He draws his clothes in tighter and presses on.
Suffering the indignation of triggering the glyph, he already frozen body can take no more and he visibly begins to succumb to the environment around him.
Shoulder to shoulder with Kuragin, he nods at the Jadwiga assessment of the situation.
"It begins my friend. Let us show everyone what sons of the north can do."
Gripping his hammer in front of him, the words of a ballad on his lips, Jorvik stride forward, ready for battle.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is subdued in his fighting, his resources having been sorely tasked by the previous fights. He checks his bombs, and finds them woefully lacking, and wonders if he should take his mutagen before they go through the portal.
He walks up to Coramus, tugs at the wizard's robes, and says, "Boss, me very short on bombs now. Only one left. Me have some good liquid fire, and my mutagen so me can get strong, but not so many bombs. What you want to do?"
Ishbaad hears the goblin voice his concerns, and offers some thoughts of his own.
"we are all relatively low on many things, but if what Kurigan has said about that doll and it's divination magic is true, then the sooner we press forward the better. You were a mighty sight to behold when you stood as tall as a man, and fought better than most. I do believe we can conquer whatever it whoever makes the poor decision to confront us. I say we push forward."
Ishbaad subconsciously pulls the yeti cloak tighter, finding that despite the evil man who wore it before, he is becoming quite attached to it.
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"I do not require rest. I am willing to continue."
Ishbaad pauses for a moment when the goblin calls him Ishy, deciding internally whether or not it bothers him. One of the guards he served several years back tried it once, and was quickly corrected.
In that split second of internal thought, where only a moment had barely passed in real time, Ishbaad knew that Icy was merely mimicking Aoife, in both word and endearment. He quickly decides it is ok.
"Aoife? Large size?" He looked to the girl with a grin, thinking that the wild child would most definitely enjoy it, especially if it made her more like Icy. "I can't think of anything that could stop us with the two of you rolling through like giants." he says with a chuckle, patting the goblin on the head as he begins to walk forward.
"One of these days icy, I might just convince you to let me try a portion that makes me a giant."
like I know I was born to be...
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The snow-covered path winds its way up towards the winter portal. Here, the temperature is as cold as the wilds of Irrisen . Despite this - perhaps because of it - the snow is not falling this close to the portal. The well-trodden ground here is somewhat icy, but not terribly hard to walk upon within the camp .
As the group approaches stealthily from the south-east, it is impossible not to notice the enormous wintry vortex that is the winter portal.
A bank of quill-like icicles spear outward in a ring, seemingly grown from a heavy sheet of ice covering the ground. A second ring of giant icicle-shaped monoliths stands inside the outer ring, surrounding a swirling cylindrical vortex easily ten feet in diameter. Icy winds and driving snow blast upwards from the vortex, clearly the source of the wintry weather in the border wood.
Jorvik and Kuragin both note that the portal is far more dramatically transformed than when they last saw it. The icicle spears were not there, and neither were the monoliths. New, too, are the buildings.
Four low igloos stand here in the snow. A well-packed trail of large footprints passes between them, heading both north and west.
Ishbaad whispers, "Icy, I think now is the time for your mutagen, and have your potion of Ishbaad-size ready..." he says the second part looking at Aoife also, knowing she is verily champing at the bit to drink it.
For his part, Ishbaad winks at his companions, then pulls the hood of his cloak of the yeti over his head, changing his visage to that of a stony, growling beast. Gem-like nodules that are normally sporadically growing from spots on his body turn to knots of toughened skin, patches of tough white hair sprouting from his normally shiny, granite skin.
As the group finishes their individual preperations, Ishbaad takes his recovered oil of magic weapon from his pack and coats his magnificent, cold iron longspear with it.
Whispering again, "It is time..."
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"Me is Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight... not Icy. Me know you rocky-people not understand names, but me will teach you, Uncle Ishy"
Taking his lead from Ishbaad, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight drinks his mutagen, and starts looking more feral than he normally does. Shiny new morningstar in one hand, extract of true strike in the other, he looks ready to make whatever badness he sees truly dead.
"Me ready!"
"Yes, best be ready. It didn't look quite like this the last time" Kuragin grumbles. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but surely not such dramatic change. Not good.
"I have a spell that makes one grow stronger and bigger is size. Would anyone want me to cast it on him." the witch offers. And after a small silence remembers to address everyone in the party: "Or her."
"Yes... I would like to grow bigger." Ishbaad offers quickly, the excitement of the prospect nearly showing in his words and demeanor. but not quite.
Ishbaad waits for the spell to be cast before applying the magical oil to sanctus custos, his longspear.
The youth hold the delicate potion in her oversized, gauntlet-clad hand and eyes it for a moment before smiling warmly at Ice Melts Quickly in Sunlight. In her other hand, the titan-grip of the leather gauntlet clutches her greatsword. As the wind bellows and races outward from the portal, the jagged shards of ice become obscured from Aoife's vision for moments at a time. Deep within herself, she can feel a shiver flit into existence, seemingly an escaped echo of fear and wonder from some deeply rooted place in her soul, sent propagating up the length of her spine, finally radiating outward and ending in her fingertips.
As she looks at her gauntlet-clad hands, sensing the tingling remains of the shiver, Aoife can see the glove is many time larger than her grasp should be and the child wonders where her fingers actually end and the gauntlet begins. At this moment, the thought of becoming larger does not sound appealing to the child, knowing her quickness and exceedingly small size are possibly what has kept her alive up to this point, and so she holds the potion aloft, as if to offer it back to Ice Melts Quickly in Sunlight.
A look of cold determination settles upon the child's face as she turns to regard the winter portal once more, her grip straining and tightening on the sword in hand.
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Coramus snaps out of his reverie. If there was one thing he didn't like about being old, it was that occasionally he drifted off for minutes at a time. The other thing was that it seemed he could never get all of his piss out when urinating. It seemed he was going every hour. He tried all the tricks: Arching his back, placing hands on hips, pushing until his spleen hurt. He could have set a clock by it, still.
The wizard notes the wintry vortex with trepidation. Such magic was surely powerful, more powerful than his and likely any of theirs. Still, he steeled himself, finding the reserves of courage that had kept him alive these past decades as he approached with the others. He laid a hand on Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's shoulder.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, if I don't make it through this, make sure to bury me somewhere warm. Where would you like to be buried? Oh, yes, I should probably have a more optimistic attitude. Get ready to smash things, mighty goblin warrior!" He smacks the goblin's arm hard, grinning.
As the group heads through the falling snow, they see a strange winter sprite - which they all recognize as the same species as the atomie they encountered earlier - flitting towards an igloo, his head down and muttering to himself. He has a tiny sickle at his side and his hair is done in two long braids. As the party closes in on him, he looks up - too late - and says simply, "ось лайно."
"Oh sh*t."
[dice=Atomie initiative]1d20+6/dice]
Ishbaad grins as the evil little sprite's jaw drops when he sees the group. What the others see is a yeti face slipping into a wicked smile. He moves forward to step past Aoife and advance on the creature.
"Cut him in half, Aoife." He says, never taking his eyes off of the atomie.
Jorvik moves closer to the sprite, hoping to smash it in the very near future.
Pressing on their surprise attack, Kuragin hexes the atomie into sleep. "Sleep now, and be quiet"
Retcon:
Seeing the sprite, Jorvik bellows a cry of challenge, and sprints across the snow, crunching as he goes.
Current AC: 17
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"Me no care. When me gone, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight body just meat. If you hungry, you eat. If not, maybe throw in ground. Me no care."
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Sticking with the plan, the now mutagenically-enhanced goblin chucks his final bomb at the winter sprite.
As he is throwing he sees the Skald charging forward, and winces.
"Hee hee hee he hee hee!"
All around her, the youth watches her allies spring into action, Jorvik's powerful and precise strike and Ice Melts Quickly in Sunlight's deadly explosive bomb. Their attacks, combined with the rallying call of her guardian, bestow upon Aoife the courage to also press the offensive and join in their charge.
Pushing through the snow, her winter clothing whirls and flutters in the chilled wind gusting and emanating from the nearby winter portal, as Aoife swings at the creature.
Aoife rushes in and slashes violently across the atomie's chest. It howls in agony as the cold iron bites deeply.
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight hurls his bomb, which ignites the cold creature's flesh viciously, but also burns his friend Aoife . Ishbaad advances menacingly, but the ponderous oread cannot quite manage to make his way in range through the snow.
Kuragin attempts to make this thing fall asleep, but it possesses an unnaturally high resistance to mind magic and barely notices. Jorvik takes a more direct way of getting it to fall unconscious, and smashes it with his hammer.
"More cold iron?!" wails the atomie as it is battered yet again, "How much of that cursed stuff do you southrons have anyway?"
Ishbaad takes one final step forward and lunges with his spear at the diminutive creature.
for
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Ishbaad's spear strikes true, and opens a deadly gash in the atomie's neck. Its wings stop fluttering as it passes out from blood loss. Seconds later, the sprite plummets the last few feet to the hard-packed snow beneath it.
With the sounds of battle and the atomie's screaming, the wrong kind of attention is sure to be attracted.
Coramus moves in on the surprised sprite, continuing forward to get a clear shot. "Back to where you belong, sprite! Well, actually, we hope to just kill you. That probably won't send you back to whatever icy hell you spawned from."
Since the fey looks to be very resistant against Kuragin's powers, the witch decides to draw his crossbow and load it with cold iron bolt. Cold iron... They don't sure like the touch of it.
As the strange creature flutters and falls to the patch of white, the youth does not wait or look to the others before charging off toward the small structure just to the south, huddled in the ever rising banks of snow. The cold-iron blade is clenched tightly in her grasp as she slides to a stop through the rolling piles of snow intentionally pushed away from the structure's entrance , and readies to strike out at the first creature which may spring from within its doorway.
"Hommelstaub, what's all the f%&!ing commotion, I'm trying to..." comes a gruff voice from around the corner of the southern hut. An enormous, hulking humanoid crushes the packed snow beneath its clawed feet on its way back from the forest. It has pale blue skin and seems to have strange, mossy hair all over its body. Its long protruding nose and severe, toothy underbite identifies it as a troll of some kind.
"Hommelstaub, what's all the f$$&ing commotion, I'm trying to..."
Just as it spies the heroes and the broken body of the atomie on the ground, Aoife smashes into it with her greatsword. A bloody gash is left in his arm, but the wound immediately begins to knit back together - albeit slowly. Still, it will be well under a minute before nothing remains of the wound.
Aoife looks up with fright at the terrifying creature looming above her, adorned in jagged icicle shards and sprawling wintery growths that appeared to resemble mushrooms frozen solid by a chilling snap-freeze. Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, the youth pulls back once again on her greatsword, the faint etching showing briefly to her eyes before the blade blinks from existence while traveling at a great speed around the child's body.
In honor of Nadezhda, the words streak across her vision in a blur but perfectly resolved in her mind.