Jorvik begins his forward motion into battle only to see his companions slaughter the wolves before his eyes. He sees Ishbaad draw his healing wand and cast his curative magics on Orm.
Drawing his hunting knife, Jorvik begins to field dress the wolves. He turns to the small boy, "Survived your first wolf attack. Soon enough you will posses the power to slay these foul beasts on your own. For now though, know that you are safe. What happened for you to lose your mother?"
Wold meat will taste terrible, but we can stew it if we can find a root vegetable or two. These furs will come in hands on our travels though.
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Ugh.. Wolf meat is going to taste terrible, isn't it?
With the others there to help bring the group back to camp, Ishbaad stays to help Jorvik dress the kills.
"Tell me, Jorvik. What does it mean to be a Northman? I knew Aoife would see more than she should for her age by going on this trip. I also knew that if I did not go with her, she would simply go alone, and she was far safer with me at her side. The more we delve into these lands, the more she will be exposed to what I see as a way of life in this harsh place. There is no room for clemency against the jinkin, and there will be many more times like that in our future. Why do I feel she is judging me?"
"Bah... I shouldn't have said anything friend. I do not mean to burden you with these things. Let's just pretend I didn't say anything at all. Here, I'll hold the legs while you pull that skin down. That looks warm. A fine trophy I'd say."
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How can I hide things from those I trust, those that have to trust me? Do I have to hide them at all?
Once the wolves are skinned and the stringy meat is stripped, Jorvik finds a time when he can speak with the Oread alone.
"Ishbaad, being in the north is not too much different than living in the south, I would assume. People do good, people do evil, people feel pain and happiness.
"Yet we are ruled by the Winter Witches. They are a cruel and harsh mistress. Death is ever present, and can come calling for the smallest of transgressions. We raid the Land of the Linnorm Kings, they raid us, we live on the end of world, and the climate is as deadly as the witches.
"Aofie is an innocent child. Or I should say was an innocent child. Ishbaad, you cannot tell me that we are not in a war right now. She is going to see things she does not understand. Cannot understand. How can we teach her that we are good, yet must kill those that need killing? Her innocence will not allow it. Yet she must be exposed to it for us to accomplish our mission.
Ishbaad, I care for her. More than I should. I respect you, and I know that you are doing what you think is right. It is not my place to judge, or to give consul. But my friend, you are going to have to choose. End her innocence, or allow a line of enemies to follow us to Whitethrone.
"Perhaps leave the dirty work to me. She understands that I am different, that you and I can be different. She can accept that about me."
Orm snuggles in to his mother's bosom, and Mjoli begins patting him on the head, too.
"I... I... I'm okay," he says to Aoife when he has calmed down at last and his wounds have been magically healed, "I was following mommy to help with hunting, but the snow got in my eyes!" Orm begins to sob again at the memory of it, "And then I couldn't see mommy. I ran and ran and ran but couldn't find her! Then... then, I cried and I yelled but no-one heard me." Something heard him.
"Am I in t-t-trouble?" stammers the poor boy.
"There there," says Nadya, "Not yet. But when we're warm again, we will have a talk about listening better. I said 'stay in camp', Orm."
Nadya notices Jorvik skinning the wolf, "Master Jorvik, you don't want to do what you are thinking. The fur will be fine, but do not eat that meat. This is a boreal wolf, a creature of magic and not nature. You will find ought but a stomach ache if you try to gain sustenance from that meat. We have enough to live on and you wonderful friends have returned my darling boy to me. Let us leave this unnatural meat for the winter to claim."
"Perhaps leave the dirty work to me. She understands that I am different, that you and I can be different. She can accept that about me."
I am sorry Jewel. I was different while you were here. You made me different, and it was good. Then you were gone because I wasn't strong enough. I'll never allow that to happen again. I will not allow what happened to you to happen to Aoife. I will hide it from her, protect her from seeing it, to protect her innocence. I can still keep her safe, both from those who would harm her, and from the necessary truth to accomplish that task. I will do what it takes. Iomedae be with me.
Seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes drag on as the two walk back to the camp, dragging their kills in silence following Jorvik's words. It is nearly an half hour later, after long and silent contemplation by Ishbaad before he finally speaks
"Perhaps you and I aren't all that different after all." Is all he offers. For now.
The camp comes into view through the swirling snows and the boys cry out in welcome of the two warriors returning.
"I'm glad you're ok," Aoife says, moving a little quicker through the snow to catch up to Nadya and her child. "The wolves, or boreals, or whatever they were called, we're sure scary, huh?" Aoife again speaks to the youth as he clings close to his mother. "Pretty soon, you'll be out hunting them by yourself. By then, you'll move through these drifts in the north," she says while kicking a small bank of snow. "and not leave any tracks in the snow either." Aoife tries to laugh and make Orm feel better, but feels that she is falling well short of her mark.
"Orm, the boy who stood up against two boreal wolves and survived..." she looks toward Orm once more, but finds that he is not looking back. A few strides later, Aoife pushes up toward the front of their marching column, rechecking the scarf wrapping her neck and head, and pulling her coat close about her chest.
"Friend Jorvik! Such a handsome pelt as that would make an excellent cloak, similar to the one I constructed for Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. Perhaps, should we find the necessary materials, you would like something similar?"
The wizard winks at the boy, Orm, knowing he is likely in for a night of alternating tongue-lashing and fierce hugging from his mother. In the end it would strengthen the bond between them both, and a happy ending would have arisen from this near tragedy.
"There is much I have forgotten of this harsh land in these past decades. I shall have to study some works when we get back to civilization and reacquaint myself with the region. Knowing how best to fight the legions of this land will help us greatly, I am thinking." The wizard shrugs and moves off, his crooked nose bright red in the freezing temperatures.
Kuragin watches the reunion from a distance, in awkward silence. The fading sunlight hides his disapproving gaze. But his stance, standing alone among the trees, tells enough.
"We should return. Soon it will be too cold for you."
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"Yes, Kuragin speaks the truth. We should keep our wits about us. There may be more of the pack near and if they are hungry enough, probably not, but I'd rather be prepared than not."
Jorvik begins the difficult trek back to camp, the newly fallen snow making walk difficult even with the buoyancy of the snowshoes.
He walks for a moment beside Aofie, "You know that Ishbaad serves the most righteous of gods. That she would never allow him to do evil, and still grant him her blessings. He is meant to be here to judge the unrighteous, to show them their errors, to allow them to repent. Do not blame Ishbaad for the failings of others. You are smart, and right to question, but have more faith in your foster-father. That trust will not be misplaced. Would you like to hold Heafoc for a moment?"
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The child considers Jorvik's words, looking to him intently but not moving a muscle. She does not nod along to his words, because she does not know if she agrees with him wholeheartedly. It is true, she does think Ishbaad is one of the best, most righteous people she could ever hope to know, but it was also true that there was something else about him, something she felt submerged and hidden beneath the surface of his emotions.
"I know Uncle Ishy is a good person. He has done so much for me and has always been there for me when I needed him. I know he could never be so nice to me, and help me so much, and be bad," Aoife says, then pauses to look over her shoulder at the others to be sure the rest of the marching column was far enough behind herself and Jorvik to hear her words. "But I feel like... I don't know... It's hard to describe..." she struggles a bit for the proper words.
"I feel like there is much more to him. I feel like there is so much more that I don't know," she says and knows she is not putting her words together just right for Jorvik to understand. "I feel like maybe in the past, or maybe when he is not trying to be on his best behavior around me, there is something dark and perilous that haunts him. It is like he is trying to be on his best behavior because I am near."
Aoife can feel the words coming easier now, "I know he would never do anything to hurt me. I know he would also do anything and everything to keep me safe. I'm not afraid of him at all," she tries to explain. "But I feel like others in the world, those that are truly bad, should be afraid of him. I feel like there is much in his past and much he has done, and that he is the best of himself when he is around me. But when he is not around me... well... I don't rightly know..."
"It's like there are two of him. Two parts of the same person. There is the Uncle Ishy I know... the Uncle Ishy that would do anything to keep me safe," Aoife looks again over her shoulder to be sure the others still cannot hear. "And the other is Ishbaad the Chosen... And some in the world definitely should fear him, and would be wise to fear him. I think he is... chosen... because he does not need to walk the path of Iomedae, as she would. I think she would forgive him if he were to stray from the path, in order to fulfill her designs. I don't think others of her followers have this leeway, but I think Uncle Ishy does. I think she expects it of him."
"And I think he has stepped clear of her path before."
When it had happened she could not recall, but Aoife at last realized there was tears beginning to well in her eyes. She shakes her head, and wipes her eyes with the enormous leather gauntlets, then changes the subject when next she speaks.
"I would love to hold Heafoc," she says, trying to smile. "You'll just need to tell me what to do, so I don't do something wrong or hurt her."
The next day's travel is relatively pleasant. The fresh snow does make walking difficult, but Nadya has packed skis and poles for everyone and this speeds things up greatly. Just after the group sets off again after lunch, they look to their south and west. A small plume of smoke can be seen just within the tree line of the Hoarwood. At first, the companions figure there must be a fire... but the smoke stays small and controlled. It must be a chimney.
"Maybe they have food... and we could trade with them for supplies. We need to speed this journey up!" Nadya notes.
The group moves in to the edge of the forest cautiously. A rough wooden cabin stands just inside the edge of the wood. There is no sign of activity around the cabin, other than the smoke that rises from the chimney.
"This is a fortunate turn of events." Ishbaad says, stopping to catch his breath. He leans slightly forward to stretch his back, and put some of his weight on the poles, allowing blood to flow back into his legs.
"We should approach in plain view, and announce our presence from a distance. I realize normally that might be dangerous, but if we hope to trade, I would not like to foster distrust and suspicion at the first impression."
Ishbaad looks to the others to gauge their reaction to his suggestion.
As the companions approach the cabin, a strikingly attractive red haired woman approaches the group, huffing and puffing. She waves to attract their attention as she slogs through the snow.
"Please! You have to help me," she begins, "My name is Sylgja and my husband is gone. I think... I think he was taken by a moss troll who lairs near here in a cave. The troll has been getting more adventurous of late, and now my husband is gone! Can you please find him for me? If you can, I will give you warm, comfortable lodging for the night. I will also reward you with a magical trap - my husband calls it his 'lucky bear trap'. Please, you must help!"
"Well met Syigja. I am Jorvik the Bloodspeakers and these are my companions. Where is the lair? Can we travel there in this storm? How long has he been gone? I apologize for all the questions, but rest assured, we will surely find him for you."
Jorvik looks closely at the woman, weather admiring a northern beauty or looking for telltale signs of lying the party is left to guess.
Coramus nods at the wisdom of Ishbaad's suggestion, puffing along behind the others. The journey seemed to be taking a toll on the old man, who rarely spoke, conserving his breath for the energy of traveling along in the blasted snow.
As the group pulls up close to the woman, the wizard hunches over, hands on his knees, catching his breath as Jorvik questions Sylgja. His icy blue eyes do wander about the surrounding area, though, making sure an ambush doesn't spring on them as they are occupied with the comely stranger.
"The lair is west of here, not very far - about a mile," the woman answers Jorvik, seeming to brighten when the man appears to be agreeing to help her, "The storm has passed, so I think it will be fine to travel there now. He went missing yesterday morning. I just know it was that moss troll!"
Coramus spies a wood pile nearby. Typically such piles are stocked for a full winter. This pile appears to be short a bushel or two of wood. The chopping block nearby has seen fresh use. Maybe the husband was out collecting more wood.
Aoife had quickly grown accustomed to not trusting or believing she could count on anyone in the entire north, except for her friends gathered around her now. Even still, the woman to whom they now spoke did not look menacing or alarming, or even dangerous at that moment, and the child knew Nadya and her children had been through much since leaving Waldsby.
"Maybe Nadya, Orm, and Mjoli should stay here while we look for Sulgja's husband," Aoife says, still wondering if that suggestion is a good idea. "After all this travel, maybe it would be better to stay here and away from the danger of this moss troll?"
"If my companions don't object, we would gladly look for your husband. In the meantime, do you think that Nadya and her children can stay here with you? I don't want the little ones exposed to more danger than necessary."
As the words leave his mouth, Jorvik knows that he is already grouping Aoife with the companions and not the 'little ones'. So be it. It is her path. Jorvik glances at Kuragin, predicting the look of disapproval on his face.
"Come old friend, we must help everyone, Jadwiga, or not. We have taken upon the mantle of the Black Rider. That means something. Change will happen, slow or fast. But change will happen."
"Coramus, you can make me one of those cloaks? Out of the boreal wolf? How splendid! I should wear it with pride. And to always know your protective magics are helping me out is a boon! Thank you my friend. Thank you ever so much. I shall have Heafoc grab you an extra black squirrel for dinner. Just don't tell the others, least they get jealous."
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Kuragin stands aside in silence, until Jorvik turns to address him. And just as the half-elf guessed, the look on the witch's face is extremely cold.
"I took the mantle to put an end to Queen Elvanna's plans. That is all to it. I am fine saving a grand populace from eternal winter, but I didn't sign up to be a rescue party for everyone we come across. I am sure you'd stop to rescue a kitten from a tree, even if Elvanna's armies creep ever closer to southlands!" The last part comes out in a bit too strict tone, and Kuragin raises his hand in apology. He sighs and shakes his head, before continuing.
"What good can we do to the man? Most likely the troll got him for food. If it was looking something to satisfy its lust, it would have taken her I imagine. So at best we find some half-eaten corpse, frozen in the back of a dirty cave." A more socially adept person would have been discreet enough to not let Sylgja hear all that, but Kuragin didn't even consider it.
Ishbaad tries his best to shake the nagging feeling of deception from his mind.
Everything and everyone in this place is hiding something. I cannot let it consume me. But if we blindly trust this woman and rush headlong into... something... What danger do we leave Nadya and her boys in behind us?
"Pardon me, and please excuse my caution, madame." This is all the explanation he offers before casting detect evil to get a sense of the woman's moral bent.
If she is an evil priestess, or powerful servant of evil, we will know. If she is evil and to weak to register with this spell, then I will at least have the confidence that Nadya can take care of herself and her boys if she does harbor some ill-intent.
Kuragin's words cause Sylgja to narrow her gaze. "What can I gain if he is dead? Revenge," the calm anger in her words and the grim set of her mouth indicate that she has already thought of this (likely) possibility.
"What are you casting?!" the woman asks, alarmed as Ishbaad begins a spell. She rushes behind the woodpile that Coramus spotted to avoid any ill magics. Ishbaad reads nothing untoward in her aura.
Sylgja eventually comes forward again when she realizes Ishbaad isn't seeking to harm her.
Nadya elects to stay behind at Sylgja's cabin with her twins, an arrangement that Sylgja graciously agrees to, nodding at the wisdom of leaving the boys in the safety of her cabin while she leads her brave troll slayers onwards. A light dusting of snow falls as the companions make their way out to the cave of the troll. The woods grow thicker the further they go. By the time they reach the spot Sylgja says the cave is, they are well and truly inside the Hoarwood. Winteryews and other massive fir trees tower above smaller bushes and underbrush.
As the companions peek through the trees, the mouth of the cave can be seen. It is overgrown with hanging moss and roots. Two figures can be seen wandering about further within, both hunched over. Further details are impossible to discern at this point... and soon after they are spotted, the figures disappear deeper into the cave.
Drawing his bow, Jorvik moves forward cautiously. Heafoc takes to the sky slowly circling the cave entrance.
Looking at Kuraign, Jorvik tries to send his friend an unspoken message, or any of their companions.
Secret Messages: You can use Bluff to pass hidden messages along to another character without others understanding your true meaning by using innuendo to cloak your actual message. The DC of this check is 15 for simple messages and 20 for complex messages. If you are successful, the target automatically understands you, assuming you are communicating in a language that it understands. If your check fails by 5 or more, you deliver the wrong message. Other creatures that receive the message can decipher it by succeeding at an opposed Sense Motive check against your Bluff result.
Ishbaad nods at Jorvik creeps forward. He shifts the grip on his longspear and crouches as he moves forward also. He is grateful for the snowshoes on his feet that help him to move so much easier.
This is a trap, no doubt. But who is behind it? He thinks as he receives Jorvik's message clearly.
Ishbaad mulls over the words to invoke the blessings of fire on his weapon. If they are fighting a troll, then this will come in handy.
Seeing the others begin to creep closer to the cave entrance, Aoife realizes she is falling behind their pace because her weight continues to cause her to break the surface of the snow to a depth nearly up to her waist. Unhooking the snowshoes from their perch, clinging to outside of her pack via a series of maze-like, interlaced straps, the child drops into the drifts with an ungraceful plop. While feverishly working to affix the wide, flat snowshoes, she briefly looks up to observe a shimmering cloud of shifting white motes, as the snow filtering through the dense boughs of the winteryews catches and scatters the dim, diffused light of the north.
We are a long way from where we started this journey, she cannot help but think as a cripplingly chilled wind pierces straight through her heavy, fur-lined coat.
She checks her coat and scarf, then adjusts how her pack's weight is sitting on her shoulders, then stalks toward the cave mouth. Soon she has caught up to the rest, able to stay atop the blanket of white, her motions deliberate and furtive.
"Yes, Jorvik, my friend, that is indeed within my power. And discretion is but one of many talents I have learned over the years. Squirrel is a favorite of mine, to be sure. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight and I subsisted on them for many months while we made our way through the forests of the Stolen Lands many years ago."
The wizard approaches the cave mouth with caution, blue eyes flitting about, looking for any of the region's numerous ambush predators. Coramus stays several feet behind the front members of the group, moving quietly so as not to give them away.
The companions approach the cave. It is dark and musty iside. The narrow opening lets in very little light . The shuffling figures within can no longer be seen, but the sound of their movement is evident as it echoes ominously from the walls.
A cave, a troll, and a setup that smells so much like a trap. Wonderful! These do-gooders will be the end of me...
Kuragin understands Jorvik's hidden message, looks at damsel in distress, and nods back at Jorvik. This shall be done...
The grumbling witch takes the back row, but not before fortifying himself with magic. One dap from his wand conjures an armor of magic around him. A spell makes his eyes see the invisible world, and another spell hides the witch from mortal eyes.
"I'll be here. Even if you don't see me, I'm here. And if you get eaten by a troll, remember that I opposed this whole venture!"
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[smaller]"Me get ready, too. Kuragin, you teach me later how to make me not seen?"
He starts gulping down things. First his mutagen goes down, and he gets a little (more) feral looking. Then he drinks see invisible, and cat's grace. He then hands Aoife an infusion of enlarge person, telling her to drink it.
"Me ready. Boss Jorvik, me be strong, like Uncle Ishy and Eefie. You see. Me do you proud."
He holds a bomb in each of his hands, ready to go, but it is easy to see that his hands are shaking a little.
Please place yourselves inside it in the right order and let me know about any further buffs you'd like to activate before entering. Unless you demand otherwise, Sylgja will bring up the rear. I'll get this started on Monday!
In the gloom of the cave, the companions notice that the 'moss trolls' cannot possibly be moss trolls at all. They are indeed covered in moss and hunched over, but their limbs are in correct human proportion. The two figures appear to be tending to a very moldy and mossy pool at the far end of the cave.
Aoife has no idea what the creature could be, but all five of her companions say at once, "Mindslaver Mold!"
The dominated and infested men turn slowly at the arrival of the characters, the dim light adding a hideous cast to their mold-covered faces. As one, they snarl animalistic snarls and turn from their ministrations to menace the new arrivals.
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Quick as can be, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight jumps into action. While these things might be resistant to cold, he was sure they would not be resistant to his bombs.
[ooc](target catches on fire, DC17 - orange takes 7, DC17 for half)[/dice]
"Die moss trolls!"
'I hope they don't take my mind over. I like my friends, and Jorvik will never believe that I wasn't under my own will.'
"Be careful, friends! They can take over your mind!"
"Mindslaver-Mold-Trolls?!" the child shouts back at her friends, clearly confused and not expecting whatever-these-creatures-are to be standing in front of her. As Icy prepares to throw a bomb, which the child knows will illuminate the tunnel in a flare of light and sound, Aoife involuntarily she takes a weary step back, scooting away from the horrifying sight of their feral, fungus covered faces. "We're still attacking them, right?!" Aoife again shouts the next question.
The youth's body lowers into an animalistic crouch as she prepares to lunge forward at the nearest monstrosity, her gauntlet-clad hands opening and clenching menacingly. It is clear Aofie, not knowing any better, is prepared to wrestle one of the creatures to ground and squeeze the life out of it.
The bomb strikes the molds, and they are too late to react to move out of the way.
Oh, great... Mind-controlling fungus. I hope you're happy now, heroes.
"Be very careful with this mold, unless you wish to their next host."
Kuragin's voice is just a soft whisper, he is happy to keep his presence unknown to the enemy. And to keep his magical veil active, he must refrain from attacking the enemy. Not that most of his powers and spells would work on the mold anyway. So he does what he does best: starts looking for the strands of fate. And there is one for Jorvik, his old friend. A good thread, one where Jorvik smashes the mold off it's victim.
"Bah! I was hoping you and Coramus would put them all to seelp. No matter, I can kill these molds from here."
Drawing the waxed bowstring to his cheekbone, Jorvik focuses on the closest threat . Slowing his breathing, knowing that his arrow must only hit the mold, and not penetrate too deeply, he quickly whispers a prayer to Desna should his arrow not fly true. With a steady exhale, he loosens the sting, and listens to the hum of the arrow as it speeds towards its target.
20 damage if the crit hits a FF AC of 14, otherwise 8 damage.
The mold covering the man quivers as the arrow strikes it. When it does so, it parts slightly to reveal a handsome, bearded man beneath. His eyes are pointed to the back of his head and a combination of drool and mod seeps from the corners of his mouth.
"Finggarth!" cries Sylgja, distressed, "What has that thing done to you?!"
The man is clearly her husband. It is unclear who is being possessed by the second mindslaver mold.
The mold-covered Fingarth charges forwards, pulling a massive battleaxe from his back and swinging it wildly in both hands at Jorvik.
The orange-hued mold charges Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and this one appears to be armed with a warhammer.
Like its more wounded compatriot, the warhammer wielder smashes its opponent squarely in the chest, doing a remarkably similar amount of damage.
Much to the companions' surprise, both molds the orange mold quivers and releases a spore pod that flies out at the half-elf and goblin respectively.
Both Jorvik and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is so stunned at this attack that the pod strikes him full in the face.
Luckily, this brave goblin of the north is made of sterner stuff than to be infected by mere plants.
The mindslaver mold shuffles off Finngarth, who falls to the ground and moans softly.
Stepping back slightly, Jorvik once again lines up the purple mold, determined not to let it get away.
But misses terrible determined to not let the mold touch him.
The child hears the words of the others and sees the frantic struggle ensue around them. At last she realizes that these foes are not in fact trolls of any sort, though she had only ever met one real troll in her short life. Seeing how the others are approaching the engagement with the devious monstrosities, the child looks fleetingly at her gloved-hands before reaching back and drawing her greatsword. As the blade pulls free of the straps and ties previously holding it securely to her back, she springs forward through the tunnel.
She darts forward, weaving between Uncle Ishy legs, and ending with growl beside her younger brother, slashing out at the moss covered thing attached to the poor soul.