get it together, focus. Footwork. Plant, drive.
Ishbaad resets himself and drives forward again, angling the spear towards the bulky section of the giant bug.
for
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Ishbaad finds a chink in the chitin, and drives the spear home. The mantis wails and takes one final swing at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. It's final throe only serves to drive the spear-tip further into its soft flesh and it falls to the ground, bleeding slowly into the churned-up snow.
All is deathly still for a moment, until a woman's voice breaks the silence, "Thank you! Thank you!" says the woman who was keeping the dogs under control, "We were dead for sure if you hadn't come - at the very least, our supplies were done for. You have no idea how important this particular cargo truly is. Thank you again."
The woman catches her breath for a while, and pull's down the thick woolen scarf that was keeping her face warm. Beneath the furry hood of her cloak, the companions see a long tangle of red hair. While relatively young - Jorvik estimates mid twenties - and quite attractive, her face seems worn and aged beyond her years. It also seems eerily familiar, though none can quite put their finger on why.
"So," she says after a few long breaths of unfiltered cold air, "My name is Nadya Petska. These are my traveling companions, Borsk, Mikha, Grigor and poor Nicolai is the unconscious one over there. Do you have a means to help him? I have a healing pack so I can see what I can do, but I saw magical fire coming from one of you. If you have healing magics as well, that would be better than anything I could do for the man."
"Well met Nadya. I am Jorvik the Bloodspeaker. This is my hammer, Frostreaver, and my Falcon, Heafoc ." Whistling sharply, Heafoc screams towards Jorvik's outstretched arm barely skimming over all the group's heads. "We will tend to your wounded with all haste. What is it that you are transporting and why is it so important, if I may ask?"
My she is attractive. And a leader too.
"It is good to meet you Nadya. And it is good that we met you when we did. Let me take a look at Nicolai." Ishbaad says, striding over to the unconscious man.
As he kneels to inspect the wounds, he asks over his shoulder, "What is the cargo you are carrying, and where are you taking it?" in his most innocent sounding, curiosity filling voice.
one cannot be too presumptuous. What if these are the servants of the witch baroness, taking the "tribute" away from the town?
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"Me is Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. Me good goblin, and me will heal your wounded."
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight uses the wand of CLW on Nicolai.
"Me was told we not find any friends here, but Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight knows now that this was not true. Me happy to see you, and happy we could save you! Me wonder, though... is that giant mantis gonna be good to eat?"
"I have never seen such a creature before," says Nadya, addressing the last question first, "But I for one will not be eating insectoid vermin.
"As for what we're carrying and why it's important," she answers Jorvik and Ishbaad's question next, "They are trade supplies from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, bound first for Waldsby and beyond that, I'm afraid I am not yet prepared to tell you - even though you saved our shipment. Its purpose is related to something very dear to me, and I will give my life to ensure it gets to its destination."
Nadya is amazed at the little goblin alchemist healing her friend, "Please take no insult at this, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, but you are a snow goblin, yes? You are the last sort of person that I expected to be helping out, let alone healing the peasants of this country!"
Nadya eyes Kuragin warily, not looking directly at him. She has seen those who do not require furs to keep themselves warm before, and she has little love for them.
"Some of you are clearly not Irriseni," she continues, "And this... thing... is also not of these lands. Please, tell me, what brought you here and can we expect more monsters like this to invade our wilds?"
"A portal, connecting our land to this location here. The winter spills out into our lands unchecked. We are here to investigate."
dammit... already said to much. Iomedae, I hope I can trust these people...
"Likely this creature came through the portal as well. Doubtful it would have survived long in the cold climes, so it was unfortunate that you happened to come across it. Iomedae smiles on you today though, as it was equally as fortunate that we came along also." Ishbaad smiles warmly, belying the weather surrounding them.
"While I am even more intrigued at the purpose of the shipment, I will leave you to your secrets. We mean no harm. Perhaps after a time, we can earn your trust enough that you might share them. For now though, since we both have the same destination," Ishbaad nods in the direction of the town, "we should travel together the remaining distance, in case the spider that eats those bugs has come through as well." He finishes with a wink.
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"Me good goblin! Me work for bad bosses long long ago, but good bosses take me out of Irrisen, and teach me to be a good goblin. Then I met Boss Coramus, and he help me learn all sorts of good things, like making fire bombs, brewing liquid fire, making medicines, and such. We no come back here for a long time... we no like the evil witches, but we help many people in soft southlands before they run us out of town calling me bad bad goblin even though me be good goblin and if they didn't want me to take it they should not have thrown it away..."
"Nadya, I am a son of the north, and have spent time in both the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, and Irrisen; yet what my companion said is true. We were in the southern lands, and came through a portal to here. In your travels, have you heard of these portals, or any other strange southern creatures invading the north?" Jorvik walks next to her as they make their way to Waldsby, stealing glances all the way. He has yet to talk with her companions, hoping his companions do so and leave him to talk with her alone.
Using his uncanny ability to talk to people:
5 Ranks: Whenever you attempt a Bluff, Diplomacy, Handle Animal, or Intimidate check, you can attempt a DC 20 Perform check to gain a +2 circumstance bonus on the check.
The youth stands close to Ishbaad, interposing her guardian between herself and Nadya. Aoife listens careful to what the clearly powerful and capable woman says, and nods along to the stranger's words without a second thought. Each time the woman speaks, the child watches as the red tangles of hair flutter in the cold air. Behind Nadya, the youth's eyes next fall upon the dogsleds and their ponderous bundles.
Without saying a word, Aoife trudges slowly through the snow toward the dogsleds. Her eyes look quizzically upon the sledges and approaches slowly. "You can't tell us what the supplies are...?" she says, or perhaps asks, all the while the words hold no emotion and her tone comes across cold as the surrounding air.
"Oh, my dear," Nadya seems shocked when she looks at Aoife, "I thought you a halfling. My word, you can't be much older than my daughter, Thora. This is not the place for one as young as you. Still, let us find shelter... I believe the distant clouds are an oncoming storm, and I'm don't think we'll be able to make it to Waldsby before the storm hits. I think we have maybe half an hour to shelter ourselves."
The woman looks around at those gathered, "We can talk more about what these supplies are for once we are safe from the storm. Oh, and mister Jorvik, this is the first time I have been near here in weeks, but I can assure you that the kinds of thing you are talking about is far out of the ordinary for these parts."
Ishbaad freezes in his tracks, though not from the cold as the woman mentions the poor tortured girl.
better be delicate about this...
Ishbaad goes about helping to set up a camp, helping where he can, and learning what to do in this new, fridgid environment.
"so are you from Waldsby?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "Is your daughter at home with her father?" trying to make small talk, hoping to lead gently in to news he was not happy to give.
at least I can be relatively confident she will not side with the witches...
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"You look at me with wary eyes, Nadya. I cannot blame you, reputation of my kin is well deserved. But I have left my people and my lands, and only these unfortunate event made me return to Irrisen." Kuragin tries to explain, knowing what the woman thinks of him. Not that he cares, really. The years among the Jadwiga has made rather uncaring about the opinions of the other northern people.
Thora... So that is why she looked familiar!
"These supplies... Are they the tribute to Baroness Nazhena?"
With the help of her newfound allies, Nadya and her band are easily able to find a natural rock wall that helps extend the shelter offered by their tents and tarps. A nice, cozy shelter is erected, including a chimney to allow a very small fire to be set in the middle of the encampment. Despite its size, the tiny blaze does a very good job of enhancing everyone's natural body heat within the confines of the animal-skin shelter.
"Yes, I am from Waldsby," says Nadya, smiling as though explaining something obvious to a child - the sort of half smile that only a mother can pull off - and continues, "I've lived there all my life. Alas, however, my husband passed away some two years ago. I am fortunate to have my twin boys, Orm and Mjoli, and of course my daughter Thora with... with me. Kashka, my neighbor, looks after the boys while I'm away trading with the Kellids, and... and... Thora is... working at the... at the Pale Tower until I can pay off... my debt."
Nadya's eyes go wide as Kuragin asks his question, "But-but-but, how could you know? Yes, these goods are going to the Baroness. That is, in truth, what these goods are for: my last tribute. The shipment that will free my daughter. Enough to feed everyone at the Tower for over a year," Nadya looks close to tears and eyes Kuragin off one last time before adding, "Though I doubt if it will last those wasteful gluttons more than a month. You must tell me, how did you know where these supplies were bound?"
Ishbaad raises his hands, patting the air down in the direction of Kurigan.
"perhaps we should start with more proper introductions, and a better explanation of why we are here, then what I am about to tell you will make... Well maybe it won't." ishbaad stops himself realizing he is about to crush this woman's soul. Nothing will make sense after this. Not for a very long time.
"We have come from a land called Taldor. The witch queen elvanna is opening portals all across Golarion, spilling the endless winter of Irrisen all across this world, and therefore much of its contents as well. One particular thing that cross the portal was a witch hut, with a doll."
Ishbaad takes a step closer, hoping his calming presence may help in the next few moments.
"That evil symbol of witchcraft was created through the death of your daughter, Thora. We spoke with her spirit when we destroyed it, and set her free."
Ishbaad is quite sure she did not even hear those last words as the weight of the news crashes down on the poor woman.
I must still tell her that Thora told us to tell her not to deliver the tribute... If she even believes me...
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"She was a noble and brave soul. Nothing you could have done would have prevented this. Nothing she could have done could have prevented this. Tonight you must grieve, for sadness will encompass you, your heart, and your mind. You must let your emotions run through you like a white stag through the pine forest.
Tomorrow, once you have purged some of your sadness, we will stoke the fires of retribution in your soul. We will use the flame of your hatred and vengeance to melt the north, and bring Baroness Nazhena to justice. I will see to that personally."
Jorvik wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to let loose the flood of tears that he expcts will come.
As she weeps on his shoulder, his companions can see silent tears streaming down his face too.
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Ishbaad watches Jorvik console the woman, grateful he is there. Flashes of the pain of separation and loss cascade across his mind like lightning strikes in a mid-summer thunderstorm. A person never forgets the hole that is left behind when they lose someone dear.
I still miss you Jewel... If only you could be here with me now.
Ishbaad, however, was a man carved from the stone itself. The mountains did not weep. At least not that anyone else could see. Tighearnán voiced his confusion more than once that in the whole ordeal of losing Jewel, Ishbaad never shed a tear, never showed any of the turmoil of emotion raging inside his heart.
Ishbaad looks on the half-elf, crying alongside the sobbing woman, and is glad that he is there. No tears stream from Ishbaad's eyes. Nothing to betray the heartache he feels, and empathizes with. Just, nothing.
On the outside.
"No! It can't be true!" Nadya screams, tears pouring down her face, "She f*cking promised! That b*tch promised! My Thora! Noooooooo!"
Nadya kicks the nearest thing she can see, which happens to be the fireplace. Logs and embers fly forwards, setting fire to some of the furs. The man introduced as Mikha rushes to the area and pats it out using a pile of hastily gathered snow. Seeing her friends scramble to clean up her mess causes Nadya to sober up somewhat.
"Nazhena will pay," she says coolly and calmly, wiping tears from her face. She stares at Kuragin for a reaction, "And these supplies are going to those who need it instead. Borsk, will you look after my boys if I don't make it?"
The thick-set man in the corner of the tent, the only one who didn't move when Nadya kicked the fire, simply nods.
"Please," Nadya turns to the companions from Taldor, tears welling up once more, "Please tell me everything. I want to know all that happened to my daughter, and anything she told you while... while spending time as one of those.... things."
Ishbaad sits down next to the woman, calm faced and gentle, despite his gargantuan size.
"She was brave. More brave than many I have seen. Iomedae smiled that day at the courage Thora showed. She resisted Nazhena as much as she was able. She shared information with us about who she was, who you were, where she was from, and what the baroness did to her."
"You were the image she held in her head for courage, you must know that as well. When we were finally able to destroy the guardian doll, her spirit was released, and she felt no more pain. She truly has a marvelous smile, I can see she gets it from you. She wanted us to tell you that she is ok now, and she will wait patiently for you. She is in no hurry though, knowing that you must cross death's door to be re-united. She knows it is not yet your time to take that journey."
He pauses for a moment to smile at her.
"She also asked us to tell you not to give the tribute to Nazhena, that the Baroness broke the deal by killing her. She was quite confident you would be mad. Madder than we were..."
Aoife pipes in suddenly, doing her best Thora impression, "Like times a thou-sand!"
Ishbaad chuckles and picks back up. "This may come as little comfort to you, but we six swore at that moment to avenge Thora. That is why we came through the portal. Kuragin and Jorvik here knew that Nazhena is a descendant of Elvanna, the witch queen who would see all the world covered in snow. We are here to stop her." Ishbaad stands back up.
"Or die trying."
Coramus nods with Ishbaad's speech. "Yes, we are here to save the realm from the depravations of Elvanna and her brood. I am glad to hear that this tribute will not make it to the b~+*$. Do you know where we can find this Nazhena? A tower, you say? Perhaps it might be prudent to talk on the way? Who knows if she knows if we are coming?"
Nadya cannot help but smile despite the tears when Aoife gives her impression, "That's my Thora. But if she knew how to count past a thousand, she would certainly have used that number and it still would not have been sufficient. I cannot begin to express my surprise and gratitude that you have sworn to avenge a girl that you never new... but you brave heroes are welcome to accompany me on this."
She looks strangely at Coramus, "Of course I know where Lady Nazhena is, and where the Pale Tower is. I was delivering this shipment directly there. We'll have to wait out the storm before we can be on any kind of way, though... and I don't see how she could possibly know you're coming, unless you've been telling it to any mirrors!"
With that, the storm hits. The tents are pounded by obscene winds, and more than once those huddled inside need to re-stake the flaps ground after they are blown free. Nadya offers aid where she can, but when the tent is in order, she broods in the corner of the tent and hones her weapons with a grim set to her face.
As the child sits inside the tent, feeling the walls bow and sway, rolling violently against the wind, she watches Nadya off by herself. Aoife rises and takes a few uneasy steps toward the woman, clearly nervous to say any more on the subject of Nadya's child and risk upsetting the nice woman further.
"Umm, Miss Nadya," Aoife says, her voice shaky and fragile. "I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for what happened to Thora... and... that... she seemed really nice."
"And Thora knew how much you loved her..."
Not wanting to continually bug the grieving woman, the youth steps away once more and sits, spending a few moments rustling through her bag. After her enormous, unwieldily gauntlets have found the creased and tattered harrow card, she pushes the snow-soaked pack away and looks upon the treasured token. As the queen mother is held upon before her the vivid reflection of a crowned ant with a scarlet-toned carapace shows in her eyes.
Ishbaad sis in his corner of the tent, cross legged and silent as well. His eyes are closed in meditation, and he does not flinch when the weather batters the tents and protective structures.
...fear not, for I am with you. I am with you wherever you go...
The holy inquisitor rifles through the passages from his diety in his mind, and to an observer it would appear he has turned back into the statue he resembles.
Aoife stands up to talk to the grieving woman, and Ishbaad cracks an eye open.
We will speak of theft another time... When it is more appropriate.
The mood remains dark in the tent as the storm rages on, both outside and inside each of their hearts.
Shattering the silence, Ishbaad begins to speak, his eyes remaining closed.
"Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed. I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Behold, all they that were incensed against thee shall be ashamed and confounded: they shall be as nothing; and they that strive with thee shall perish. Thou shalt seek them, and shalt not find them, even them that contended with thee: they that war against thee shall be as nothing, and as a thing of nought. For I will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee."
Ishbaad takes a deep breath to let the weight of the words sink in.
"the descendants of Elvanna will fall before us like dry grass to a raging inferno. They do know we are coming, but do not let that dismay you. Knowledge of the coming storm cannot slow its cleansing destruction."
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The storm hits hard for over an hour before abating somewhat. However, the blizzard continues throughout the day and it becomes clear to all that they must stay the night in their hastily constructed camp. Nadya, aided by the able Ishbaad and Jorvik, has done an excellent job of setting up, though and it doesn't take too much extra effort to make things comfortable for sleep.
"We have good food for an expedition," says the skinny blonde man, Grigor, as he finishes cooking the evening meal, "Acorn stew followed by bread and Varisian sausage." Any who know anything about cooking know that Varisian sausage is just offal in in a pig-gut tube. The fare is plain, but well cooked.
A scuffling noise is heard from outside, and a melodic female voice drifts through the thin folds of the tent, "Hello? Is anyone in there? I can see the fire..."
Kuragin sits in silence, believing it's best to avoid conversation with Nadya's lot. Instead, the witch stares at his stew bowl going over the recent events in his mind. He catches a piece of sausage with his spoon, and is just putting it into his mouth when he hears the holler from outside.
"Are you expecting anyone?" he whispers quietly to Nadya. The Jadwiga freezes in place, the spoon comically in mid-air, and awaits what shall happen.
"Company?" asks Nadya incredulously, "No. I was expecting to be home by now." She puts down the stew that she wasn't eating anyway, and pulls out her well-made, well-worn and highly functional longbow.
"That voice does sound strangely familiar, though."
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."
She looks strangely at Coramus, "Of course I know where Lady Nazhena is, and where the Pale Tower is. I was delivering this shipment directly there. We'll have to wait out the storm before we can be on any kind of way, though... and I don't see how she could possibly know you're coming, unless you've been telling it to any mirrors!"
I've seen Kuragin walk about in the winter weather, completely unaffected. Only one of his kind could have walked about in this blizzard and survived...
Ishbaad takes his furs and blankets and quickly lays down covering his body head to toe. He takes the fancy new magical spear and lays it next to his side, his fingers gripping the haft tightly.
The child rises up, seeing the others begin to stir and collect their own weapons. The melodic, soothing voice calling to them from outside the tent sets Aoife's teeth on edge. She was more disturbed and frightened now, than if the voice had been outwardly dangerous or aggressive. It was as if the unnatural calmness of the woman's voice, casually speaking through the deadly snows, even now blanketing their tent, drew out of the child an animalistic instinct of overwhelming fear that the source of this voice was not to be trifled with, or spoken to, but only fled from or destroyed.
"... an evil thing wanders through the snow in search of food..." she doesn't mean to whisper the words aloud, but does so intermixed with long, haggard breaths. The child is clearly taken by wild fear of the unnatural and the unknown, and uneasily reaches out with a gloved hand to draw up her greatsword.
Coramus looks up, instantly suspicious of the voice. "Who would be stumbling about in this weather? Perhaps a wayward soul whose luck has run out, perhaps an enemy seeking to draw us out. Be wary, friends, but let us see who this traveler might be."
The wizard gathers up his things quickly and makes ready to go outside, hoping the others follow suit.
The wary travellers all ready arms, and open the tent to see who might be asking after them. In the snow, they see a strange part woman, part beast. She has pale blue skin, and is clad as though she had Kuragin's blood running through her veins. Her cloak is more of an affectation than a piece of clothing that provides any warmth. While possessed of a slim figure and a face that is attractive in an otherworldly kind of way, her legs have three knees in bestial fashion and end in cloven hooves. Woven into her hair are two curved horns, complementing her long, goat-like ears.
"Oh, please, no need for the drawn weapons!" says the female creature at the sight of the PCs and the traders, "I am simply in need of a little shelter for the night and saw the glow of your fire. There's a blizzard out here, you know. Ah, Nadya! Good to see you again. Will you let me in? Strange company you seem to be keeping these days." She eyes the heroes suspiciously.
"Mierul?!" Nadya seems completely taken aback, "Um... well... er... yes, please... um... do come in. These are my... erm... relatives from another village, and their friend the snow goblin. This here is Kuragin, a Stilyagi Jadwiga and he is... erm... trying his fashions out on my cousins."
Amazingly, the odd creature called Mierul seems to accept the ludicrous statement and simply steps inside.
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Ishbaad breaths in slowly, hoping the woman doesn't notice the strange pile of furs. He cannot see out anyways, and suddenly begins to feel foolish at the thought of getting caught.
"... your days are numbered, devil."
His actions when they destroyed the guardian doll seem so foolish now as his own words echo in his head. If this thing is allied with the baroness, then she will know him as soon as she sees him, and there will be no bluffing their way out.
For now though, he decides to wait, his hands gripping the spear tightly, ready to spring should his new friends suddenly be in danger.
He chides himself silently as well, remembering that he should have used his new gift from Iomedae, to see if the visitor had an aura of evil about her, before she was inside the tent and he was trying to hide.
Perhaps I can pretend to be sleeping, and she won't ask questions... or recognize me... Ohhh... This reminds me of how Aoife used to play hide and seek...
Coramus accepts the events with a shrugs, smiling through his beard to the...whatever it was that happened to be named Mierul. "Greetings, ma'am. I am Nadya's cousin Coramus. Although I typically am called Uncle Coramus. What with the grey hair and all." The greybeard's eyes turn wistful, tearing up. "I remember plopping her on my knee and bouncing her about while telling her stories of the terrible practices of the Southern Lands. Things like sunbathing and surfing. The way she would squeal, aye...it still brings a smile to my face." The old man steps back, apparently lost in thought. What thought might have been hard to say.
"I became close with her daughter, Thora," the child intends to say more, but Aoife could barely speak the words before needing to turn away as her voice cracks with sadness. In doing so, youth turns her back on the blue-skinned Mierul, just as the creature steps into the tent.
Aoife could feel an righteous anger brewing within her, bubbling up at the thought of the young, innocent girl's fate at the hands of the witch, Nazhena. She fights desperately to suppress an urge to ask the others if they are willing to leave, at that very moment, to find the baroness and make her answer for her crimes.
While her back is still turned, and while still facing away from Mierul, Aoife uses one hand to tuck the queen mother harrow card into a pocket. Her action is not surreptitious or hidden, but rather, the child simply does not want to risk loosing her fate-gifted treasure if she, and her companions, are called to raise weapons against the blue-skinned creature.
"Mierul here is... a bard.. of no small talent," Nadya says carefully, by way of introduction, "She has played quite a few times in Waldsby... and I have been... fortunate enough to see her perform at the Pale Tower itself."
Nadya turns to address Mierul. Painful memories cause tears to well up in her eyes but she fights them back, "Please, won't you play for us? We have enough food to share and the blizzard might start back in earnest at any moment." Nadya clenches her teeth as though afraid to say more.
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"Well thank you, Nadya, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you strange stranges!" Mierul says cheerily, seeming to be blissfully unaware of the underlying tension, "I would be delighted to play for you. How about I play a song called the half-blood daughter? A rousing ballad, and it may help remind you of your own - Thora, was it?" None gathered are sure if the past tense was used intentionally or not.
"Oh, and please tell your companion there that sleep time is over! I don't think it's too much to ask that my audience remain awake," she adds with a sly grin.
Mierul sets up well away from the fire. Everybody she passes feels an unnatural chill come over them. Her voice, though, is filled with warmth and melody. The lyrics, on the other hand...
"Now listen well, all so you hear,
A tale of woe, regret and fear.
Once was a witch, who loved a man.
She loved him once, and then he ran.
"The witch chased him, through hill and dale,
Alas for her, the search did fail.
She cried four nights and just three days -
Swore on her life to make him pay.
"Of their union, a babe was born,
A striking child with face forlorn.
'Come now lover! Tis your daughter,
You don't return, there'll be slaughter.'
"So he returned, out from the wilds,
The man's heart broke, he saw the child.
She was like him, in ev'ry way.
Her face lit up, so bright and gay.
"'Now see your child, you savage beast.
I will eat her, you'll join the feast.
If you do not, I'll slay you now.
Now gut this babe, like a plump sow.'
"The man rose up, 'Why I ought ta...
Leave her alone, she is my daughter!'
He drew his sword in hand to wield,
He swung a blow- witch had a shield.
"He screamed so loud, 'What have I done?'
The witch just laughed, 'Now that was fun'.
She dropped the babe, blood stained the snow.
'I curse you now, let magic flow!'
"She chanted words arcane and swift,
The fell winds blew, began to shift.
'Forever more, you'll find no joy -
You shall sire both girls and boys.
"'Many children, but you'll love none.
You'll kill them all, when they turn one.
No suicide, no way to fly -
Cursed you will be until you die.'
"With that she laughed, revenge complete.
She left the child dead at his feet.
Each kill was like when he fought her,
And pierced the heart of his own daughter."
"There now," Mierul finishes pleasantly with a flourish on her lute, "Was that not the most lovely of songs?"
Your voice is beautiful,"" the child says, turning back to face Mierul. "But, the words were... ugly." The child looks clearly afraid of the creature, and the twisted, overly jovial attitude about a song so tragic and horrifying. Again, an uneasy and sickening feeling creeps across the child, the same as she felt upon first time hearing Mierul's unnaturally pleasant tone, which sends a chill racing across her skin.
Kuragin didn't quite share the alarm of the others. Just because someone was moving out in the blizzard would not mean he or she meant harm. After all, bad weather was no excuse of not visiting friends I Irrisen. Still, caution is needed in now that they are unwanted visitors in these lands.
But when the stranger enters the tent, Kuragin stares mesmerized. Many times he opens his mouth to introduce himself, but no sound comes out. And before the witch has managed to succesfully utter a sound, Mierul has already begun her song. And Kurahin listens in silence, staring the singer.
So beautiful...
"Beautiful song. Matched only by the beauty of the singer." the entranced Jadwiga finally manages to say. He really didn't pay attention to the gloomy lyrics, and in Jadwigan scale, they weren't that bad anyway.
"Quite the inspiration song. What exactly were you trying to inspire us to do?"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight identifies the bard as a forlarren - the product of a forced union between nymph and a demon or devil of some kind. They are incredibly rare, but something is odd about this one - it appears as though she is winter touched like the fey they encountered in the Border Wood.
"I am glad you liked my song," Mierul says, "I have many more to sing, and shall share them with you once my meal is finished."
Nadya seems even more on edge after the song, "Not too many, though, we need to turn in early so that we may get back on the road to Waldsby at first light."
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"OH! More songs! You have ones tell even better stories? Like how goblin kingdom rise once more, and take over lands silly squabbling longshanks? Or how Zarongel brought fire to the goblins, so that they can burn all that needs burning? Here, have some acorn stew and pig-gut sausages. Me was told they would be very good! Mmmm.... So what about bad evil person who betray the people and end up in their cookpot. Do you know that story?"
Mierul doesn't try to hide her distaste at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's suggestions, "I like that you appreciate my music," she begins diplomatically, "But my repertoire does not extend to accommodate goblin tastes. How about the queen and the fry cook? When the fry cook failed to appease her appetites, she fried him up and fed him to his family? I think that's close to one of your requests... two, if you count it as burning."
Ishbaad stirs under the blankets, being called out and knowing that the guest knows he is there.
I could cast detect evil, but by the words of that song, I believe I already have my answer.
Kicking the blankets off, he stands with his back to the woman, pulling himself up to his full height. His polearm stands vertical, and he leans on it like a deadly walking stick. The thick furs cover all of his granite skin, and he uses the opportunity to chant a quick prayer to Iomedae in terran.
"Προστατέψτε μου κυρία μου, από το κακό καρδιά και κακές προθέσεις"
The spell of protection from evil completed, Ishbaad turns around slowly.
"I'd sooner sleep in the blizzard than keep company with those who think it a triumph that a man be cursed with killing his children, or any children for that matter. You are a servant of the pale tower then, I assume?"
The deadpan way the question is delivered does not hint whether it is an honest question, or an accusation. Ishbaad's hands are steady, though his nerves are on edge, ready to spring at any moment.
If indeed this is a lacky of the baroness, better to be rid of her now, before she can report us, or inspire the minions of the witch when we battle them.
Coramus nods eagerly at Mierul's suggestion for a song, his tastes nearly as dark as his companion's. "What an excellent story! And how ironic that he should be fed to his own family. Perhaps a bit dramatic and dare I say predictable, but all in all a good campfire tale."
At Ishbaad's words, the wizard's brow furrows in thought. Ishy apparently thought this woman an enemy, or at least no one to fraternize with. And Nadya had seemed nervous ever since the woman showed up. Perhaps Coramus had been acting the fool.
He stands, creating distance between himself and Ishbaad should the woman have any type of area spell or ability while getting prepared for combat, should it arise.
Ishbaad finds he knows no more, less even, than Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight reveals to him in private at a later time.
"Servant of the Pale Tower?" scoffs Mierul at the oread's question, "Nothing of the kind, though I am often invited to play there. As for the song lyrics, I was not the one to write them. 'Tis a popular - if overly modern - tune amongst the Jadwiga. Your masters over there seemed to enjoy it, as did your goblin friend." She seems to be telling the truth about the lyrics (and the Pale Tower).
Mierul seems to ignore Coramus's comments. Kuragin informs the man later that if he is not Jadwiga, he is lower than goblins in the Irriseni social hierarchy.