The group continues along the path straddling the Hoarwood. Nadya sets up camp for the night, inviting the other survivalists in the group to aid her. Before long, a modest campfire and ring of warm, sheltering tents is set up. The night is surprisingly still, and morning sees everyone well rested after such a hard day's march.
The second day sees little change to proceedings, and everyone has begun to relax about the ravens they saw on the previous day when it is time to set up camp yet again. Nadya once more takes the primary responsibility upon herself.
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As the shadows lengthen across the snowy ground, the temperature begins to drop quickly. Nadya and Jorvik look at one another, and see that it is time to camp for the night.
Removing tents and other camp supplies, Jorvik takes off his furs. As he and Nadya set up the tents, they move with deliberate slowness. "Why are you setting it up so slow?" they ask.
"Here in the north, sweating is death. A cold undergarment will cling to you and suck out the heat. Your body temperature will drop, and you will die a painless death never knowing you are suffering from hypothermia. So when you have to exert yourself, either don't sweat or change your clothes."
Quickly the camp is bustling.
Aofie and the children disappear into the woods to gather fire wood and dried needles to get a fire going, and a game of hide and seek for sure.
Ishbaad realizes they are gone a bit too long and follows after them, worried expression on his stony face.
Coramus finds a rock to rest upon, rubbing his feet and wondering when they can use magical transportation.
Kuragin stands around, impatiently. The thought of helping out never crossing his mind.
Ice melts quietly in the sunlight sits down and upends his pack. He begins to sort everything into two piles: things that are shiny, things that aren't shiny. Things that make fire, things that don't make fire. Things he likes, things he doesn't like.
Once camp is set and Nadya is making the fire, Jorvik spies Coramus eating snow (not yellow). "Coarmus, stop this instant. You cannot eat snow. It will lower your body temperature. Here is a pail. Go fill it with as much snow as you can. We will melt it down and refill our water skins." These southerners.
Snacking on food from the town, and sipping rapidly cooling boiled snow, the companions share stories of their recent exploits.
"Honestly, Ice, I thought you had a chance with that, sprite was it? In the kitchen. Too bad we killed her."
Before long the weariness of the journey, and the cold of the night are too much for even Jorvik and Nayda. Before the companions turn in, watches need to be drawn.
"So, We have three watches. Which pair want first, second, or third?"
"I will volunteer for second watch. I do not need uninterrupted sleep." Ishbaad offers as they sit around the fire, ready to turn in.
The advice about not working to hard is in direct conflict with Ishbaad's tendencies, but he submits to Jorvik's wisdom. He is a northman after all, and this is not the first time he has dealt with these situations.
Throughout the walk and over the fire, Ishbaad and the others discuss their combats. The former seargent brings up the mistakes and the wild successes for each of them, not to shame or chastise, but to discuss with everyone so they may understand each other better, and learn from them. There is no doubt that their effectiveness is vast, and their assault on the tower a massive success, more than perhaps he even allowed himself to think possible.
When the watches are set, Ishbaad goes to his tent to sleep for the first part of the night until he is woken up.
Never an outdoorsman, Kuragin helps best the camp building by staying out of the way. Watching Jorvik's and Nadya's slow pace and listening to the half-elf's explanation makes him realize the danger the environment presents to the others. "They say keeping your feet dry and head warm is the key. But I can't say I know much about it" The witch takes a look at his own clothing and brushes off some snow from his linen shirt. "There are spells to ward off the cold, but I'm afraid I couldn't offer the protection to everyone. So we might as well build a fire, even if it makes it hard to hide our presence"
Snow prickles skin when Kuragin scoops it to a cooking pot with his bare hands. But the feeling is quite pleasant. The temperature is quite mild for Irrisen, so the snow isn't quite as powdery as it could be in the deepest winter. But there's more water in it, so more to drink with less work. Lazily the witch carries the pot over to the fire, where everybody else are sitting and warming up. "I'd like the first watch or the last. I need my sleep for my spells." he makes his watch reservation, and hangs the pot over the flames.
Nadya nods wisely at Jorvik's words, slowly helping him to set up tents and furs.
"I'll take one of the watches, too," Nadya notes, "First watch, I think, so I can make sure the boys sleep! What about you three?" Nadya looks to Aoife, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and Coramus.
The child runs through the deep snow, chasing Orm and Mjoli, while each collects firewood. When each returns from this foray into the nearby woods it is clearly suspicious how little wood each of the children is carrying and how much each of their garments are caked and packed with snow. Without making eye contact with the adults, each child unburdens themselves of the load of lumber, obviously wondering if their noisy play could be overheard here at camp, while the serious work of setting up a safe site for the night was being done.
Hearing the discussion now at hand, Aoife peps us to the others. "I can watch with you, Uncle Ishy," she says, looking up to her guardian with a smile. "I think it could be fun."
Aoife knew she didn't need to prepare any awesomely powerful magics like the others could do, and she hoped, taking this watch was one way she could help pull her own weight. She knew this task was a small help to the others, but she also knew so far as pulling her weight was concerned, that she didn't weigh very much.
The watch begins with the sun still meandering down towards the horizon. A beautiful purple and yellow glow permeates the sky. As the sun finally sets and darkness begins to creep in, Nadya exchanges watches with Ishbaad and Aoife, cautioning the child to stay rugged up and to head back into the tent frequently to rub the chill from her bones.
The two strike up a conversation, but after a few minutes Ishbaad cocks head to the side. The alert oread hears a strange sound... it sounds like tearing and is coming from Ice Melts Quietly and Coramus's tent. Ishbaad creeps around with Aoife and the two notice a long slit in the tent and a faint chanting coming from within.
Aofie stalks through the drifts of snow, paces behind Ishbaad. Continually her tiny head, wrapped countless times in a thick scarf, peeks from behind the towering form of her guardian. Her footfalls are all all but silent as her agile body seems to barely compact the snow. Behind her the chill wind sets her heavy, winter clothing billowing in the gale.
"Should I put my dad's gloves on?" she mouths the words to her uncle, but does not dare say them aloud. After a moment, Aoife loosens the cinch without waiting for a reply and slides the massive gauntlets onto each hands. The gloves, which should be far too large for her, close with powerful intent as Aoife forms fists.
Once closer to the cut strip of tent, her eyes are not yet able to make out what is happening inside, yet Aoife motions to her uncle with one hand, then at the tent, and finally makes an exaggerated opening motion. Next, the child holds both her hands aloft, the massive gauntlets appears to form the shape of a choking motion, and then acts as though she will jump inside the opening once it is formed.
Her large brilliant eyes look up to her uncle, unblinking but watering in the cold, as she waits for him to acknowledge that he understands.
Ishbaad nods in confirmation to Aoife, a stern look on his face as he contemplates what the noise could be.
No way Ice tore his own tent. This is not one of us.
Ishbaad easily understands Aoife's pantomime, and is glad for it, since he was ready to fling the tent open anyways. With a curt nod to let her know he is moving, he reaches for the tent and pulls the torn hole wide for the small child to enter. He focuses his eyes to catch a glimpse of whatever might be inside.
As soon as Aoife makes her lunge, and the surprise advantage has been utilized he bellows, "Intruders in our midst! Draw arms!" Hoping to wake up his companions.
Dreaming peacefully of large busted northern women, singing of his valor and good looks, drinking mead until he pisses himself, Jorvik is suddenly and rudely interrupted by the Oread's shouting. Rolling over and grabbing Forstreaver, he is out of the tent in a bound.
"Coming!" is all he can spit out as he heads for their tent.
The wizard looks at the small handful of snow he had grasped, giving it a forlorn look before dropping it to the ground. He gives the large pail a dark look, his skinny wizard arms already straining with the weight. As the watched are called out, Coramus remains passive, content with either first or third.
Coramus snoozes blissfully away, unaware of the danger within the folds of cloth he and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight lay cocooned within.
Ishbaad draws back the rent in the shelter to reveal six tiny creatures all holding hands in a circle around the sleeping forms of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and Coramus. They are chanting softly, clearly some kind of ritual casting. The have extremely large, pointed ears that cover most of the sides of their faces and their evil grins are full of tiny, needlelike teeth. Their bestial heads are disproportionately large on their otherwise humanoid bodies. Their skin is a pale whitish blue, and is pulled taut over their bony frames.
Aoife barrels into the first one she sees, gripping it tight. It wails, unable to get free.
Instantly, all five of its comrades disappear.
The little creature puts up a valiant effort, but it cannot seem to manage to do what it was trying to do with Aoife restricting its movements in such a way.
"Aaaaaah!!!!" it wails, but try as it might, it cannot struggle free.
By this time, everyone in the camp is awake. There is no sign of the creature's comrades, but Aoife, Ishbaad and soon the others can easily contain the tiny, weak little menace.
"Well done Aoife!" Ishbaad says, drawing his cold iron longsword, he places it at the throat of the diminutive creature.
"You have a few moments to consider your situation. The others will arrive, and then you will tell us what you are doing here and why. If you leave anything out, I will run you through. If you are forthcoming and helpful, I may decide to not run you through. Either way, your miserable life has changed, and not likely for the better."
The freakish little creature's eyes widen as Ishbaad threatens him, until his eyeballs look like they may drop out of his head.
"I-I-I live here!" the creature replies, clearly frightened, "Y-y-you are the ones passing through. We al-al-always demand trib-b-bute from t-t-travelers like you! W-w-we curse you, and th-th-then you p-p-pay to have us l-l-leave you al-l-lone. No off-f-f-f-fffffense intended."
When the companions do not relent or offer him any gold to leave him alone he puffs himself up. "It is our right!" he lies. Ishbaad notices and puts his blade right up against its throat. Smoke rises where the cold-forged metal meets its First World-touched skin. "It iiiiisssss!" The creature protests. Clearly, it has been lying about this for so long, even the threat of death doesn't convince it to change its story.
"It is my right to cut your throat as much as it is your right to curse us and demand payment for passage." Ishbaad presses the longsword again for a moment, then releases the pressure just a touch.
It will be like this all the time in this wicked country, won't it? What can I do to appeal to this little scum?
Ishbaad stares at the gremlin for a few uncomfortable seconds, letting his words sink in. He weighs the option of simply cutting off the wicked thing's head. Then he has another idea.
"Tell me, is it your custom and right to steal from the party of Jadwiga? What would the royalty say if they knew you demanded payment for passage from the true-bloods?"
"I know of you little creatures. Normally you associate with something or someone bigger and stronger, all the easier to pull off your little con. Perhaps there is still yet a deal to be made here." Ishbaad releases the pressure a little bit again, hoping the gremlin relaxes some.
The interrogation is interrupted when sleepy-eyed Kuragin pokes his head into the tent. "What's -yyaawwnn- all this racket!?" The witch is wearing only his nightgown (of obvious Keleshite style), but like always isn't really bothered by the cold air.
"What's the jinkin doing here? Oh crap, are there others than this one? They can really spell trouble. I just hope they didn't have time to put a curse on anyone."
"We would never demand tribute from the Jadwiga!" the jinkin seems genuine, "We have an ancient deal with Baba Yaga. No molesting her children. The farmers and travelers we demand payment from are not true-bloods!" The Jinkin laughs at the oread's apparent ignorance.
With the appearance of the half-dressed Kuragin, the jinkin's face turns to one of horror. "J-j-j-jadwiga!" he realizes, "Oh, madam.. I-I-I mean sir... I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so soooooooorry! We didn't know... we did not know. Please, please, please don't send us to Her realm to pay for our sins! Mercy! Mercy!!!! We didn't mean to break the pact, honest!"
"We won't hurt you. We're not like that. Even though you did try to hurt my brother," says Aoife still regarding the creature and observing it with a questioning look. "You broke your pact once... So how do we know you won't try to hurt any of us again, those of us that aren't from here?"
The child turns her head quickly to the side, looking from her guardian to Kuragin, clearly panicked, "I mean, we're all from the north! From straight west of here!" It is clear the child is trying to cover her previous words, hoping, most likely in vain, to mislead the creature.
After another moment, she steps in closer to the frightened beast. "What would your curse have done, if we didn't stop you?" she says while reaching out and bracing her self against its small, fragile shoulder.
"We probably can't let you go until we are ready to leave from this place, in order to keep your friends from coming back," she whispers quietly to it.
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"Curse? Me already CURSED!!!!"
What little confidence that the snow goblin had recovered is lost once more, as he is thrown back into his depression. Ignoring the commotion around him, he crawls into his sleeping roll, completely cocooning himself. Whimpering can be heard coming from the pile of rags. "Me good goblin. Me try hard. Why me?"
Coramus pays attention to the little creature's words, now standing in his tent, very much awake. After his initial surprise at waking to yells and finding Aoife wrestling with the little sprite-thing, the wizard calmed down, peering out into the night to check for a glimpse of its companions.
Seeing none, he comes back inside, focused on the captured one. At Aoife's question about the curse, Coramus wears an expression of curiosity, wondering what fate he and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight had escaped.
"My friends won't come back!" the jinkin seems truthful - and worried - about that statement, "The curse would just have made you unlucky - we can tinker with your fates. They can't curse you now anyway. Needs to be six of us. Didn't anyone teach you that six is the mystical numerical requirement? Oh, please don't kill me or send me to Baba Yaga! Even with six of us again, we can't curse you for another day, anyway... and then you'll be long gone. Just let me go! Please!"
The jinkin looks crossways at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. He tries not to say anything, but his fey curiosity gets the best of him, "Why is he acting like that? We were trying to curse the old wizard, not him. Why would we want to curse a snow goblin?"
"Wait a minute... You say that your plan was to curse us, then make us pay you to get rid of the curse? Are you saying you know how to remove curses? Answer quick, and I may be able to convince the Jadwiga not to report your failures..."
"Remove the curse?" the jinkin looks genuinely confused. Then he realizes that Ishbaad is serious. He lets out a little chuckle, and it is all the little thing can do to stop himself from all-out laughing in the oread's face, "We don't remove curses... *tee hee*... we get you to pay us so we don't curse someone else... or ruin any more of your food." He quickly shuts its mouth like he has just said something he didn't mean to.
"Any more of our food..." Aoife says, leaning in close once more. Her massive gauntlet-clad hand give the creature a painful squeeze on the shoulder, though the motion looks effortless for the child.
"Go on," she adds. "Tell us what you've done."
"They've putrefied our supplies!" cries Nadya after rushing out to check the party's rations, "It's all ruined!"
"I'm sooooo sorry!" The jinkin curls up and puts his hands over his face, knowing what to expect next.
"Five is good, six is bad." Ishbaad recites one of the common phrases from the city of Corentyn. When the others look at him, he responds, "I served with a man who's family hailed from Corentyn. They had a few other sayings that might be a bit crazy, but not all of them were. Interesting that it seems to apply here, though I would say that even one of these foul creatures is not good."
Ishbaad sighs and hangs his head, tired from the walking and the constant barrage of cruelty and evil in this cold, desolate place.
How could people live here? Do the witch huts have that much power that they would stay? Humans can be so odd. I find myself dreading our trip to whitethrone...
"Enough of this. I shall give you the punishment that seems fitting in these lands." Ishbaad says, nodding to Aoife to give her time to turn her head, should she not wish to see. He then promptly runs the little gremlin through with his cold iron sword.
"We have not had enough rest, and now we are short on food, with 3 days left on this journey. Sleep, all of you. Aoife and I will finish our watch and in the morning we will decide what to do. Jorvik is a skilled woodsman, and Nadya has survived in this land for years. We will not starve. But for now, we sleep."
Ishbaad tosses the body of the jinkin far away from the campsite where it ploofs into a snowdrift and is quickly covered by the endless drifting snow. He nods somberly to Aoife, and they begin to take turns walking around the camp again as the others drift back off to sleep.
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Watching the scene play out from the opening of the tent, Jorvik nods at Ishbaad's actions.
He grows more Northern by the day.
"Cormaus, and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, you should bunk in the empty tent as yours is now open to the elements.
"Ishbaad speaks the truth, I know these woods as well as I know any part of this forsaken land. Heafoc will also help us hunt for small game, and I can set snares. This will delay our journey a two days if we come across some good hunting ground, but we shall survive. It is water that we cannot go without. Tighten your belts for we will not eat as well as we did."
Hunt This trick allows an animal to use its natural stalking or foraging instincts to find food and return it to the animal's handler. An animal with this trick may attempt Survival checks (or Wisdom checks if the animal has no ranks in Survival) to provide food for others or lead them to water and shelter (as the “get along in the wild” use of the Survival skill). An animal with this trick may use the aid another action to assist Survival checks made by its handler for these purposes.
The youth looks up to Jorvik with a beaming gaze, watching with eager eyes as he holds out an arm and provides a perch for the bird. She is again amazed as Heafoc soon leaps forward and takes flight, quickly becoming a circling, black blot in the sky, rotating over the woods about them. Aoife cannot help but pester the northerner with questions about the creature regarding how he and his winged-companion can work so seamlessly together to hunt for the group. She asks how he taught himself to survive so assuredly in this deadly climate where everything seemed bent on placing uncounted dangers in their path.
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As the youth follows her northern companion around, dutifully listening to every word and piece of advice he might offer, she occasionally casts sidelong glances over her shoulder in the direction of the others. As she keeps close to Jorvik, perhaps even annoyingly so, she is also quite obviously keeping her distance from the others, or maybe someone in particular.
Even though she tries to remain enthusiastic and interested in Jorvik's fascinating mastery of hunting and scavenging for food, she does at one point manage to ask him a question seemingly out of the blue. "Umm... Mr. Jorvik?" she asks, her voice tentative but also laced with concern. "Is Uncle Ishy cruel?"
As she looks up to the man her eyes are big and welling with tears.
"I don't think he is. He has always been so kind to me," she stammers as if trying to convince herself. "But why did he have to kill that poor creature?"
"I made a promise that we would not hurt it, but then Uncle Ishy killed... Wasn't there another way where we didn't have to kill it? Couldn't we have left it tied it up until we were ready to leave?"
There is concern etched into her face and the heavy weight of burden on her shoulders as she thinks about how hard it is to survive in the north.
The companions move closer to the Hoarwood that they might better forage for food. Heafoc returns with the occasional white-furred rabbit, while Nadya forages for Winteryew seeds. The meals are meagre and bland, but they provide enough sustenance for the nine travelers and their animal companions to live and continue their journey.
The first day of this passes slowly but uneventfully. However, on eve of the fourth day of travel since departing Waldsby, a heavy snow begins to fall. It is not a blizzard, but it hampers vision and makes it difficult to forage for food. The day's travel takes longer than usual and the companions set up camp early while Nadya and some others go their separate ways to forage for food. Nadya returns cold and shivering from the additional snowfall with firewood and a small bag of seeds and she calls out for her boys. Mjoli looks confused, "But Orm went out with you..." he begins. Nadya's face becomes ashen.
she screams at a volume that only a panicked mother can manage, "Oh, sh*t, oh sh*t! We've got less than an hour before the temperatures drop below survivable levels. Help me find Orm, please! We have to find him!"
Nadya is in no condition to be leading the search, looking around in a flustered rush for a quick solution to where her lost boy could possibly be. It is clear that someone else needs to take charge here.
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The next morning, Ishbaad looks around for Aoife, but sees that she is not in the camp. Nadya informs him that she has gone of to hunt with Jorvik, and so he dismisses it out of hand, knowing she is well taken care of.
He begins to move around the camp, doing what he does best, lending his massive strength to the effort to keep the camp moving, now that Jorvik must use his skills to feed the group. It will take longer, they will move slower, but it is necessary now that the jinkin have spoiled their supplies.
He doesn't say much as they go about the busywork of breaking down the camp and beginning their trek. They were supposed to meet Jorvik later in the morning further down the Hoarwood treeline.
Am I cruel? Or am I just naive? Even Iomedae would not have thought twice to slay that creature, or even bother to parley with it. Why should her inquisitor be different? There is good in all people, that I believe. But is there good in all things? That jinkin likely would have been overcome by Iomedae's mere presence. This country... It is different here. Simply declaring Iomedae's truth wherever I walk will not work. I must find a way to stay in her truth, yet balance that with our quest.
The quest... to free Baba Yaga. Does my goddess even approve of such a path? Is it justified, to free the queen of witches because of the tyranny of her daughter? Trading one evil for another...
This path will change me. Here I was worried about Aoife and how it would change her, steal her innocence. It seems I will not be excluded from it. Iomedae, I pray you bless this path, and give me the wisdom to encourage those who travel it with me.
"Jorvik! Heafoc will once again prove he may be the most valuable of our companions. The tracks will not last long, but my goddess will help me track what we have. There isn't a moment to lose."
Ishbaad pulls the yeti hood over his head, grateful for the wintry protection it provides. He ponders for a minute, his amazement that the yeti can survive in such harsh conditions, even thrive. He puts his head down, focusing on what tracks there may be even as Jorvik launches Heafoc into the air.
[dice=Survival, Inquisitor Track ability]1d20+7+2[/dice]
And you had to take the children with you, to the wilderness? As if it's not enough that we have of our own, strange one as she is
Kuragin tries to avoid looking at Nadya, in fear his disapproving look would betray his feelings. He is grateful for having her as their guide, but he cannot understand her need for dragging the children along.
"Have no fear, Nadya. We will find him." He does mean it, but the words sound hollow. It is difficult to sound sincere while hiding one's emotions. Keeping his eyes low, Kuragin grabs his gear and starts marching after Ishbaad and Jorvik.
"There are witches who have their means of finding their way to lost children. But I have no such powers, so I have to trust your skills in tracking the boy. Me and Pushkin will help any way we can."
"You see Aoife, there are may different birds of prey. The hawk, it is a keen hunter, but it destroys it's prey. Good enough for it to eat, but insufficient for us to find a scrap of meat left to cook. Vultures live to eat the leftovers. Eagles are fickle birds, they can kill easily, fish, or scavenge. The falcon though, that it the bird of nobility. Graceful, speed, and kills quickly and efficiently.
"To train one such as Heafoc, you use a wounded animal, one easily seen and caught. Tying a rope to Heafoc, once she has made her kill, you pull them off. This teaches them to kill, but not to eat.
"Eventually you work your way to teaching them to bring them back to you. It is difficult, but worth it in the end."
After hearing Aoife voice her questions, Jorvik is caught off guard.
Be smart. She is not your ward. She is a child, and does not understand the harsher rules of survival.
"Aoife, you are smart. You know that Ishbaad is not cruel. Think of how he treats you. How he treats us. You have seen much to much. You know that there are times when we cannot be merciful to our enemies. Does this make us cruel? There are times when if we left an enemy go free, we would only find more enemies, and better prepared. Does this make us cruel? It is an age old question, 'Is good 'good' if good does evil to defeat evil'? It is one that I myself ponder.
But to kill that which cannot be redeemed, which only live to hurt, that is not cruel."
I hope the truths I speak, the words I use carry understanding. Desna, why have you put us in this situation?
"Nadya, control yourself. You know that he will not stay lost. Coramus, Ice, Aofie, will you tend to her or track with us? We will move quickly and cold will be a factor. We already are looking for one lost" he looks to Nadya, instantly regretting his harsh words, ", We do not need to find more.
Kuraign, Ishbaad, with me."
The men leave the tent into the blisterng weather.
"Ishbaad, I fear that Heafoc will have limited use in this weather, but she will do what she will. Come let us fan out, but remain in eyesight, and search for tracks."
Jorvik tightens his furs, and straps on his snowshoes.
Ishbaad and the two Irriseni natives quickly find the tracks - already being filled in by the fresh snowfall. They call over the other companions and together everyone pushes on as the sun slowly descends upon the horizon and as the continued snow makes it harder to see. Nadya is sick with worry, and clings perhaps a little too tightly to Myoli. The boy is too young and naive to be truly concerned, but he does try to comfort his mother with his own hugs and by occasionally patting her hair.
At last, they are rewarded when they hear the whimpering of the small boy ahead. "Orm!" Nadya cries, recognizing the voice of her son immediately.
All eight travelers rush over a small hillock to find Orm with a wounded leg, shivering in the snow as two enormous white wolves close in upon him from the north and south.
The oread breaths a sigh of relief when they find the child. He instantly hopes that no one notices he is disappointed to see the wolves.
At least there is an explanation for this.
"Proper wolf tactics I see, so glad that it isn't common to just the wolves from the southlands. Pack tactics. Go after the young and weak, and bring the real meat in for a feast, right? Well come get your meat, beast. You shall earn it today."
Ishbaad is glad to put the nagging thoughts from earlier in the day behind him. They brought up far to many painful memories of a time when a man, or an Oread, just had to get things done. This time, there were no questions, no doubts to assail him. Just him and the beasts. And his friends.
Ishbaad squares to South Wind, longspear gripped tightly in his hands. He leans forward, his weight packing the snow beneath his snowshoes. The tension in the air hangs thick for a few seconds as the enemies size each other up.
The calm before the storm.
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Hearing the turmoil shakes the snow goblin out of his depression. "Me will help track! Me also have drinks to make us not feel cold... me haven't been making them lately, but me have two right now. We give one to Orm when we find him. Me think me gave some to a couple of you as well. Me well help."
When Jorvik gives him the look he is not swayed. "ME SAID ME WILL GO!"
"Orm! Me save you! Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight will be a hero again, even if it kills me!" he yells, pulling out a bomb. He turns to look at the wolves, a look of pure goblin fury in his face.
As the group comes upon the scene, the wizard tries to put a restraining hand on Ice's shoulder, whispering fiercely, "My friend, be careful. Should you take a wound it will cause that ring to manifest. We've shared too much time together, and I have no wish to lose my closest friend." Standing with the goblin, the wizard reviews the spells he has prepared, getting ready to do battle with the wolves.
Kuragin senses his familiar freeze in fright a second before Ishbaad cries out about the winter wolves. And soon the witch has the white terrors on his sights as well.
What is with these childer getting into trouble all the time...
Still, the kid is one of them, and must be rescued. He can only hope Ishbaad's bravado will draw the wolves attention away from the child. The boy wouldn't last a second if the wolves decide to go for a kill. So best concentrate all effort into putting the wolves out of combat.
As far as Kuragin remembers, Winter Wolves are still animals, albeit magical kind. And animals do sleep. The witch curses South Wind with Slumber Hex, hoping they have soon one less wolf to worry about.
The companions crash through the snow in their eagerness to save Orm. The wolves turn their heads and growl at the fresh prey that is so willingly sacrificing itself to them.
South Wind eyes Ishbaad with two red-glowing embers for eyes. He leaps forwards, going for the oread's throat.
The wolf was perhaps expecting a boy but instead it found a man, and its snapping jaws close only upon the steel of Ishbaad's armor.
North Wind finds a child, and leaps for Aoife.
It too, is found wanting. Aoife feels the chill of its oddly frigid breath as it snaps at her shoulder.
The companions note that, as the wolves churn up the snow with their feet, the snow mystically fills in the holes their paws dug out. No trail is left behind by these unnatural beasts.
South Wind hears Kuragin's command, demanding that it fall asleep.
It obeys and curls up at Ishbaad's feet with a whimper.
The child sprints headlong toward the creatures circling her friend. With each step closer she can feel the anger brewing at the thought of any vile creature attempting to hurt one of Nadya's children, she also knows the anger she feels is spurred on by fear of what might happen to Orm, but this thought is being drown out by the blinding rage building within her. At the same time, Ishbaad's previous actions and Jorvik's words regarding the dangers of being merciful flash through her mind.
The wolf might have been a beautiful, majestic creature had it not moved to attack one of her friends, her gaze softens moments before North Wind lunges at her. As it misses her and a cold front seems to sweep past her, her giant gauntlet-clad hands snap out for the beast's neck.
Once the creature is firmly in her grasp, she willing lets the rage explode from her in a torrent of fury, as her hands tighten upon the beast with an iron clutch
Aoife quickly has the wolf gagging for breath. Two quick squeezes later and it falls to the ground, unconscious. In a matter of seconds, both wolves are dropped without any blood drawn. Nadya stares, amazed anew, at her new friends' prowess.
Without hesitation, Ishbaad leans forward on his spear, taking care to plant it in the winter creature's throat. His weight is enough to snap the wolf from its magical slumber and just as quickly send it to the eternal version.
Ishbaad looks up at Orm, but sees Nadya rushing to her boy, and so takes a moment to study the magnificent creature a little closer.
Trackless. Ruthless. Were they just looking for a meal, or was there something deeper going on here? Probably just a meal. Why do I find myself drawn to you, winter wolf? Is it because I envy your skills in this wintry land that is so foreign to me? Or because I see more of myself in you than I would care to admit?
When the boy is safely wrapped in Nadya's arms, Ishbaad pulls one of the wands and uses a charge to heal his wounds.
"The physical wounds are healed. Time will tell how the fear he felt will affect him. For now, Iomedae will give him courage, so he may see that he has it within him."
The child slides back from the unmoving mass of white fur, the once majestic and magical creature's life having been squeezed out of it. Scuttling backward in an awkward crab-walk, she moves on all-fours away from the pitiful remnants of her actions. She cannot help but feel a wave of panic was over her as the rage previously gripping her wanes and fades away. With her father's gauntlets on, the fury and anger that so easily flared up always seemed to blind her and blot out her more salient thoughts, and so she always seemed to run solely on rage.
It was true, she would do anything to help keep Nady and her children safe, even her friends from all dangers, but she did not like that her actions seemed more of a reflex than a conscious decisions. Perhaps Ishbaad was right in what he previously had done, and Jorvik's words seemed to ring true to the child, but even so, even in the light of what she had just done, she was not so ready to agree wholeheartedly with them. To the child, and maybe it was because she was willingly naive, it felt like casting her morals aside.
No matter what she thought at this moment, she was beyond happy that Orm was now safe.
"Are you okay?" she asks from her seat in the snow.