Mierul continues to regale the companions with stories and songs for as long as Nadya allows. Eventually, though, the somber woman can stand no more and calls lights out. The wind howls outside throughout the night, but the shelter is secure and everyone finds they get a fairly good night's sleep. At Nadya's insistence, veryone takes it in turns to set up watch in pairs. Mierul and Nadya take the final watch, at Nadya's insistence.
I'm so he morning, the party wakes to find Mierul already packed and ready to go. "It was fun staying with you, but the blizzard has passed and we do not share a destination. Fare well, and may the winter wolves find your neighbor's gate." With that traditional goodbye, the strange bars hops nimbly through the snow drifts and away into the distance.
It is then that the companions note that Nadya was missing, seconds before she returns to camp.
"The way is clear," says Nadya, "But the path has about two feet of snow covering it. The march home will be hard going for you folk if you walk without skis or snow shoes. Luckily, here should be enough room for you on the sleds."
The party sets off for Waldsby, but barely an hour in to the journey, part of the sky darkens. Nadya calls an immediate halt and squints at a black, cloudy formation in he distance. "Crows!" she hisses, "Creatures of the witches. Best that they don't see us! Everyone, under the tarps!"
Coramus nodded enthusiastically to Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, as enraptured with the stories as the goblin. Well, maybe slightly less.
In the morning, as they are traveling, the wizard heeds Nadya's warning about the crows, slipping underneath a tarp and trying to remain still.
The youth hears Nadya's call and looks up to see a dark, patchy swarm of crows set against the sky. As quickly as she can, Aoife dives beneath the tarp, pulling her legs and arm underneath in a blur of motion. Her small frame is easily swallowed by the billowing folds and from beneath the frayed edges the child's eyes peer out.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight spends the evening totally enthralled by Mierul's stories and songs, asking for her to repeat ones he enjoyed. He will take his watch, preferably with Coramus. more than once the elder wizard has to quiet the goblin down, who spends most of his watch humming and singing the tunes that Mierul sang.
"Bye, bye, Mierul! Me hope our paths cross again, so you can regale us with you wonderful songs and stories!" he calls out. He then thinks a moment, and adds, "And may you not step in the poop of the wolves! Hee hee!"
When Nadya's call goes out, he is torn between watching the crows, and hiding. Knowing what he knows of Irrisen, he decides to hide, though he's heard that crow tastes pretty good.
Travelling in a sled proves to be a nice change in their journey, now Kuragin can sit and relax, gaze the sky deep in his thoughts. Thus, he sees the birds approaching. Rooks, are they? No, looks like crows. Wise birds, would make good familiars.
What!? Hide? Oh yes, makes sense... Eyes of the Witches, and we are unwanted visitors here
Kuragin watches what his companions are doing. Of course Aoife and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight can hide their small frame easily, so they are not much of an example for the bigger witch. Instead, he mimics Coramus, and dives under the tarp and tries to resist the temptation to peek at the birds.
Ishbaad grumbles, sounding like rocks rolling down a steep mountainside. He does his best to duck under the tarps, though it didn't do any good the night previous.
Hiding like an unbearded youth. Will I never not feel the sting of shame?
Stealth with tarp; take 10 for 15
Everyone cowers under tarps, but Ishbaad and Jorvik (in particular) are unused to lying flat and still. The crows (actually ravens, as Kuragin realizes and Nadya later corrects herself) descend upon the two most conspicuous members of the group.
From above them, Jorvik and Ishbaad hear the flapping of hundreds of wings and then suddenly, beaks and talons pierce their tarps and tear the covers to shreds in a matter of moments.
Should have just stood here like a statue, perhaps they might have landed on me as they passed by...
Laying on the ground, Ishbaad looks up through the shredded remains of his tarp to see the swirl of black beak, feather and talon. He resists the urge to simply reach out and grab one of the birds and snap its neck, knowing it will do no real damage against the teeming masses.
"You cannot report to your witch mistress if you are all dead..." he growls, then reaches for one of the alchemist's fire in his bandolier.
From his back he chucks it up in the air, confident one of the speeding birds will hit it in mid-flight and break it open to spill its fiery contents on the rest of the flock that covers him.
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Ishbaad stands up with the liquid fire flask in his hand, and coils his arms back, ready to throw.
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Ice Melts Quielty in Sunlight pulls the tarp off of himself, and stands up, getting ready to lob bombs at the crows that are swarming. He'll step back (5') away from the crows, hoping that he'll get the chance to throw without being attacked.
"Stupid Longshanks! Getting seen! Only Eefie and I hid good, but Ishy and Jorvik? Hah! Me think Jorvik wanted to be seen!"
There's no mistaking when the birds attack, the sound of the swarm shrieking and shredding the tarp is evident. Quietly Kuragin takes his flask of Alchemists' Fire ready in hand, and removes the tarp, hoping the crows are busy with the others.
The child can hear the chaotic whirring and squawks reach a crescendo as the birds descend upon her poorly hidden companion, and Aoife winces at the sound the tarp being cut to ribbons by hundreds of dagger-like beaks. After a moment spent gathering her composure, she pulls the tarp off of herself, hoping a cluster of birds is not hovering in the space over her head, and then steps back while drawing her mighty sword.
Coramus sighs and rises, nodding without surprise when he sees it is the tarp Ishbaad and Jorvik were under that is being shredded. The men were excellent in battle, but left something to be desired in the stealth category. No matter...water under the bridge. Coramus' brow furrowed. What did that mean? He knew the metaphor, of course, but not its ultimate origin. He ponders for a few moments...then the cacophany of the birds brings him back to the present. Oh yeah...imminent bird murder.
Never one to avoid a fight, Jorvik rolls to his feet and moves a safe distance away. The look in his eyes leaves no question that he is not fleeing this fight, rather moving towards a more advantageous position.
Heafoc takes to the sky with a shrill cry, picking off any strays that break away from the unkindness.
Kuragin and Ishbaad combined quickly relate the following salient points regarding raven swarms:
- As a tiny animal swarm, they still take half damage from slashing and piercing weapons and full damage from bludgeoning weapons.
- They can fly at a speed of 40ft.
- Those hit by the swarm can be blinded (reflex save to avoid) as their eyes are gouged by the talons and pecked by beaks.
- A raven swarm disperses when reduced to half HP or less.
The companions reposition themselves appropriately around the battlefield while Ishbaad manages to burn himself along with a few of the birds.
Nadya stands up and pulls out her longbow while pedaling backwards, trying to defend her companions still hidden beneath the tarps, "Stay down!" she yells at them.
The swarm flies back over to Jorvik, pecking and scratching at him rather than one of his companions.
Frenzied by the fire thrown at them, the swarm pecks furiously at Ishbaad. Nadya luckily moved free of the space just next to him before they began their assault on something other than a ground cover.
Luckily, neither man is blinded by the birds' relentless onslaught.
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Clear of the swarms, but seeing his new friends in danger, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight pulls a bomb out of his pouch. He sees Jorvik cringing as he launches the bomb.
"You no worry, Jorvik! Me learn to not splash friends!" He throws his bomb, spinning it oddly as he does.
Afraid for his friends, he will immediately throw another bomb!
"OOoooo! Crows burn good! Breakfast is served!"
Ishbaad swats at the crows as they peck at him. Knowing he can vary a few out of the sky, he pulls out his heavy mace, singing in a wide arc to try to pelt as many of the birds as possible.
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Seeing that Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight would likely make quick work of Jorvik's swarm, the wizard turns his attention to the ravens surrounding Ishbaad, sending a small acid missile at the creatures.
Quickly, Kuragin jumps up. He measures the weight of the flask on his hand, trying to figure out the force needed to hit the ravens. Once satisfied with his mental calculations, the witch leans back and throws the Alchemists Fire.
The youth still hesitates, looking at the sword in her hand. After a few false starts, where her tiny frame starts to move, almost bounding forward, then but waits. Clearly apprehensive to move within pecking distance, Aoife manages to push aside her fears and replace it with rage. Suddenly she drops the swords to the snow and draws her mace as a few quick steps bring the child close to the churning mass of crows.
"Arrgh" Reeling from another attack, Jorvik grips his hammer and brings it down with all his force.
Between the smashing and the fire, both swarms of crows are thoroughly beaten into submission. Countless bloodied, burned or dissolved bird corpses litter the ground in the wake of the companions' merciless onslaught. Black and red completely carpet this patch of snow, standing out like a massive, gory target on the ground.
Just under a dozen remaining scorched and wounded crows escape the wanton destruction and begin to fly off back the way they came.
"Oh my! You folk are formidable indeed," says an amazed Nadya. Her astonishment turns to worry soon after, though, "The survivors are flying towards the Pale Tower! Lady Nazhena will know you're here soon. We'd best get you to Waldsby quickly, and hope we can get you hidden before she sends her soldiers to town."
Ishbaad quickly pulls out his bow, though confident he will not be able to hit all of the crows, especially as they increase the distance. He fires arrow after arrow until he can no longer see the the black specks, wondering if he brought just a few more down.
"It does not matter if they know we are here." He say resolutely. "I already spoke to the witch through the mirrored eye of her doll before I smashed it."
Ishbaad takes a deep breath, still staring in the direction of the pale tower.
"Knowledge of the sun's rising does not allow one to stop it from happening. Let them rage in their tower, knowing their doom is at hand."
Ishbaad brushes a few stray feathers off his pauldrons and wipes crow blood from his heavy mace before strapping it back into place.
"We have more pressing business than hiding from the witch and her minions. Those crows saw you with us, and now the rest of your family is in danger. We must look to them first before we march on the tower. Either way, we must move with all haste. Something tells me our meeting with the bard was no chance meeting either."
With the threat of ravens over, and the calmness of battle lust subsiding, Jorvik turns towards Nadya. "Our guest last night, the one who shared our tents. Can you tell me about her, and how you came to know her? Every ally we recruit aids in our success, while every foe we leave alive is one that might do us in one day."
"It does not matter if they know we are here." He say resolutely. "I already spoke to the witch through the mirrored eye of her doll before I smashed it."
"You did?!?!" asks Nadya, incredulous, "Are you ignorant or insane? What did she say back to you?"
Once Ishbaad has answered and talks about the crows, Nadya shakes her head, "The crows are not much more intelligent than animals. They won't be able to recognize me directly. I look like any other red head. But, they will be able to provide enough of a description to identify you lot as strangers. I think my family... what remains of it..." Nadya allows a tear to fall down her face, "Is still safe. For now."
"Our guest last night, the one who shared our tents. Can you tell me about her, and how you came to know her? Every ally we recruit aids in our success, while every foe we leave alive is one that might do us in one day."
"Mierul," says Nadya thoughtfully, "I've seen her playing at the Pale Tower too many times for my own comfort. She's played in Waldsby, too, but nowhere near as often. I do not trust her. Forlarren are evil half-spawn in general, and her niceties always seem a little forced. I would not be surprised if she is performing some task or other for Lady Nazhena. It cannot be a coincidence that she is out here at the same time as you arrive. Perhaps she is looking for something... or someone. Whatever the case, she didn't seem to be looking for you, which we can be thankful for."
Nadya turns her nose up at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's offer of flash-roasted raven, but Borsk quietly takes a cooked bird and begins to eat it. It is impossible to tell whether the man is enjoying it or not.
After the youth straps her morningstar down to her bag with an overly complex tangle of straps and buckles, she move back through the snow and kicks a patch of white off the greatsword. Once the blade is also secured, Aoife spends a few diligent moments verifying and verifying both her pack and heavy, winter clothes are in traveling shape.
"Mrs. Nadya," the youth begins her question, looking out from between the wrappings of her scarf. "If Mierul was here for a reason, but it wasn't to find us... Who or what would she be looking for?"
"You did?!?!" asks Nadya, incredulous, "Are you ignorant or insane? What did she say back to you?"
Without missing a beat, leading one to believe he missed the significance of the rhetorical question, Ishbaad answers, "Ignorant, actually, though I may still be when it comes to the significance of foretelling the witch of her doom. She did not have a chance to reply, as we had already destroyed the magic that held Thora captive, and I smashed the mirror directly afterwards. Let's be honest, its not like I was going to be hiding in plain sight anyways. If you believe it to be that detrimental to our goal, perhaps I would be less recognizable like this..." Ishbaad pulls the hood of the yeti cloak up, changing his visage to that of a dark skinned, gnarly yeti with a fierce scowl.
"And with what I have seen so far of your land, I feel that a yeti might not be so out of place." he growls in yeti form.
Coramus shrugs, decades of running having hardened his stomach. He joins Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight on munching on the cooked ravens, the meat being gamey but surprisingly good, once you picked the feathers out.
At the discussion about the resident of the Pale Tower, Coramus huffs. "Likely she will send out a stronger force to poke at us...someone who can actually relay tactics. These witches are clever, but subtle. She will try to get a full measure of us before acting directly, I would imagine."
He nods to Nadya, "Yes, let us get to Waldsby, we must strategize and discuss."
"Mrs. Nadya," the youth begins her question, looking out from between the wrappings of her scarf. "If Mierul was here for a reason, but it wasn't to find us... Who or what would she be looking for?"
"I am not sure, my child," says Nadya, unconsciously changing the pitch of her voice to 'mother', "But just before I left, some soldiers of the baroness were asking after a rider in black armor. Whatever for, I cannot say. They seemed most agitated, as though the task before them were at once both quite impossible and death to those who failed. Much cruelty followed their questioning. Perhaps she also searches for this man."
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight hears about the man in black armor, and almost immediate blurts out what they know about him. However, the time spent with Coramus has helped him to learn not to blurt out everything he thinks, when he thinks it.
"Oh! Me know... um... nothing about big man on horse with ice in back. Nope. Me no nothing! Me wonder why witch would want him?
"Eefie! You want some yummy crow? Me not know why Longshanks always talk bad about eating crow, it taste good! Not at all nasty... and the bones is crunchy, too! Boss, why you waste the feathers?"
The youth watches as her friend tries desperately to cover up the fact they had encountered Black Midnight, the last of the three riders. There is brief instant where Aoife is unsure of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's motives, and questions if, perhaps, he meant to make it obvious that they had crossed paths with the last of Baba Yaga's black armor wearing knights.
As these thoughts occur to her, she then realizes that it is probably painfully obvious to discern based on her own facial expressions that the companions had in fact met Black Midnight, and so she turns away embarrassed to be the one to have given away the secret.
In an attempt to change the subject, and unsure if they should alert Nadya of their connection to Black Midnight, and that she, herself, had buried him with the survivor harrow card.
"Sure, Icy," she says in an unsure tone. "I'll try some meat..."
Lost in the prospect of eating crow, while her mind drifts back to a particular children's book her nanny would read and a strange riddle that was presented about crows, or ravens, and never answered."Why is a raven like a writing desk?" she asks the odd riddle aloud but to no one in particular as she takes the first bite.
"Eating crow is..." Ishbaad catches himself before explaining it to the goblin, then has a second thought. If Ice melts quietly in sunlight was smart enough to whip up the concoctions and formulas he seemed to have great control over, he should be able to handle this with ease.
"...It is a metaphor, for having to accept responsibility for something you claimed, said, or did, that was wrong. Like when I told Aoife that all goblins were dangerous. It is not pleasant to admit when you are wrong, just as it is not pleasant to eat... Ah. I see where you were going with this. Yes. Longshanks generally don't like the taste of crow. Figuratively, or literally."
Ishbaad smiles, knowing the goblin was smart enough to catch what just happened, including the compliment.
"If you are going to eat, let us eat while we walk. We have business to attend to."
Ishbaad has already nearly forgotten he still has the hood up, and therefore has been speaking in yeti form. An Oread, a goblin, a child, an old man, a witch, and a wild man, traveling the wilds together. It was already strange enough, who is to say that switching an Oread for a yeti was all that much stranger?
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight for some reason ignores Aoife's shortening of his name, something he hasn't been too fond of from the adults. He ponders her question, and then says, "Huh. Me not know, Eefie. Me no think that raven feathers are good for writing quills. Me know if you work at it, you can get words from both? Me think that not right. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"
The little blue goblin starts muttering to himself, in goblin, trying to puzzle out an answer.
Ishbaad smiles as Aoife asks her riddle. He hadn't heard this one in all of the books and stories the girl read with her nanny.
Feathers... black... legs.... wings... No... Change gears. A desk is sturdy, has ink, paper, drawers. No... Missing something...
Ishbaad mulls the riddle over in his mind, unable to come up with an answer as the group trudges towards the village.
The old man strokes his beard for a moment, then shrugs, offering. "Perhaps both the raven and writing desk could be black?" It seemed like nonsense, really, something an adult would tell to a child just to confuse them.
"I have heard that riddle before," says Nadya, "But I haven't the slightest idea what the answer is. In any case, let us continue on our way."
Led by the expert and practiced directions of Nadya, and traveling mostly on dogsled, the companions soon arrive in the town of Waldsby.
Unlike most communities in the winter-bound land of Irrisen, the village of Waldsby is not built near one of the nation’s life-giving rivers or lakes. Instead, the peasants of Waldsby eke out their livelihoods from the Hoarwood Forest, under whose eaves the tiny village huddles.
"I'm afraid, friends," says Nadya as the companions arrive in Waldsby, "That my fellow villagers are quite suspicious of strangers - and fearful of the Jadwiga. You will need to keep a low profile until I can convince enough of them of your good intentions. Would you be willing to stay at my house until then?"
"It is kind of you to offer, my lady. I believe that after time spent on the road it would be pleasant to stay at a permanent lodging once again. Not all were born to brave the hardships of a vagrant's life." Jorvik quickly glances at Coramus to make sure he did not offend him before continuing, "Do you plan to share you knowledge of the atrocities with the others? Will there be many sympathetic to our cause?"
"We graciously accept your hospitality. I... I think it is best I change to more local clothing before entering the village. Just to keep low profile," Kuragin thinks he could pass for a non-Jadwiga if he hides beneath a winter clothing. But then he remembers Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and Ishbaad, and suspects 'low profile' is not going to happen, ever.
Coramus nods his assent. "A small rest for these weary old bones would be appreciated. We shall await your return, gracious hostess." The wizard smiles at Jorvik, indicating his lack of irritation with his words.
"Yes, a house will be nice to stay in for a time, even if we must sleep on the floor. At best people will regard me with curiosity, so I agree that a low profile is best. We will await your return to let us know when it is relatively safer to venture out into the village. We should look first to re-stocking our supplies, when the opportunity is available."
The child reaches up with one of her colossal gauntlets and covers a yawn, the size of the glove blotting out sight of her entire face, in addition to her mouth. "Maybe we can hold up inside, get out of this cold, and rest for a few days straight," Aoife says, it becoming clear how much their continued exposure to the frigid temperatures of Irrisen and deadly struggles have exhausted her.
Smoke exits the chimneys of many of Waldsby's houses, but the wisps of white seem muted somehow - as though the people therein are not burning enough wood to keep properly warm. Surrounding Waldsby are the firs and willows that seem eternally locked in winter. Nothing productive comes from those trees. The only trees that provide any form of sustenance are the winteryews (most commonly known by the peasantry as "witch-trees"). These evergreen conifers somehow manage to produce pinecones that have vaguely edible seeds. These are a staple amongst the lower classes, and without them Irrisen would have no workforce. If legend has it right, the winteryews are not native to Golarion at all, but introduced by Baba Yaga herself. Certainly, nowhere else but the Land of Eternal Winter can boast such strange trees.
"So," begins Nadya as the group approaches a small cottage at the far eastern edge of town, "Please come into my home and make yourselves welcome."
The temperature of the home's interior, despite being many degrees below what would be considered comfortable in Taldor, is a warm blessing after the incredible cold of the mountainous climb.
Two red headed boys rush out from the kitchen. They are identical and about five years of age, with grime on their faces and covered in clothing that makes their limbs protrude from their bodies at comical angles, "Mommy!" they both yell in unison before leaping impossibly high into Nadya's waiting arms.
"Friends, I would like for you to meet Orm and Mjoli," she says, pointing at each in turn.
"Mommy!" they scold, once again in unison.
"Oh, that's right, this is Orm and that is Mjoli," she says with a chuckle, "Orm is the handsome one and Mjoli is the fat one."
"Mommy!" they cry, exasperated.
"You'll have to keep an eye on your belongings with those two around, but don't worry, they won't take it for long."