With Kuragin out of the way, the twigjack giggles in glee. He leans down over Ishbaad's body and places his sharp claws over the oread's neck .
"Drop your weapons and tie yourselves up, or he dies!" calls out the evil little thing, laughing maniacally, "Do anything else, and I sink my claws into his jugular! Tee hee!"
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Where Ishbaad has had visions of his late wife before, this time his trip to the ether of his mind is dark and empty.
A chair appears out of the darkness, in a small room. A man is tied to it, bloodied and bruised, his breath coming in shallow rasps.
"It was just gold. Just business... She wasn't supposed to get in the way..." The man coughs out.
A dark, ebon skinned humanoid face leans into the frame, coming nose to nose with the beaten man. Ishbaad's ebon skinned face. Spatters of blood can be seen now all over the walls, on his face, on his knuckles.
Ishbaad opens his mouth to say something in response when a knock is heard at the front door to the house. He pauses, takes the towel from his shoulder and wipes his face and arms, then his hands as he walks away.
Brave he might not be, but he does feels loyalty for his comrades. Ishbaad's plight, and the fact Kuragin did leave him alone there makes the witch to act with speed that surprises even himself. The fey isn't even able to finish his threat, when Kuragin already opens his mouth for voiceless scream to stun the creature.
Heafoc upon seeking that her beak was ineffective against the twigjack hears Jorvik's new double shrill whistle. She rises up then spreading her wings she beats at the twigjack's face, hoping to distract it.
If successful it gains the Shaken Condition.
Jorvik praying he isn't to late fires another cold-iron arrow right at it.
he drops his bow [free] and moves towards the Twigjack while drawing his hammer.
The goddess hears his supplication and grants him a moment in time, a moment stolen.
He swings his hammer, hoping to end the meddlesome Twigjack.
From the house a woman cries out, "Look out!" The spiky fey creature is distracted for a moment, but that is all Kuragin needs. He screeches a scream that is so piercing it would put small girl's wailing to shame. The twigjack holds its ear holes and momentarily forgets all about his helpless prey.
Jorvik's arrow breaks off sticks and bark from the twigjack, but it is to distracted by the ringing in its ears do do much about it. There is still no sign of the quickling.
[dice=Ishbaad stabilize, DC 10]1d20+2-6
Aoife stops dead in her tracks at hearing the menacing words of the creature threatening to end Ishbaad's life. She knew that just hoping for things to be ok was not enough. Good people die all the time, she had learned this on their travels into and through the winter portal, and was forced to grow up a little by the mere fact of knowing this universal truth. She also knew this fact was especially true in these lands.
Stark panic grips the child as the thought of watching her guardian die before her eyes, and she tries to move forward in some awkward, stumbling attempt to save the man while at the same time not realizing how paralyzingly her fear was. She had thought almost no time passed since the creature threatened her guardian's safety, but before Aoife's eyes the creature was struck suddenly and stunned by Kuragin's devastating magic, and then skewered by Jorvik's deft arrow.
Pressing the advantage and utilizing the creature's dull, dim witted countenance, she springs forward. To her own surprise, she moves at Uncle Ishy rather than to strike the evil creature down. A moment later she bends over and reaches out, pulling with all her strength to slide the unconscious man away from danger. As her arms strain as she looks over her shoulder at the twig-like creature, waiting for the time when it will lash out with a killing blow.
"Stop!" comes a shrill cry from somewhere vaguely in the direction the quickling went, "Don't kill Tindlecrick. Let him go and we'll both leave here and never return. If you do anything else to him, I swear I'll run in and slash the stone-man's throat before you can stop me. You know I'm fast enough."
Aoife remains standing over the fallen form of Ishbaad, her legs are dug into the snow and her legs poised to spring forward while both hands strain in an outstretched, protective posture. She knows she still invisible, but does not even want to even speak aloud or give away her position if the unseen creature continues to threaten her guardian's life, especially if there is a chance it cannot place where she is. If you come toward him, she thinks, her eyes darting to and fro for a glimpse of the incredibly fast creature. I'll ring your neck...
The child stays rooted in place, ready to grasp and crush anything that attempts to move at Ishbaad as she waits for the others to respond to the ultimatum.
"Creature, we shall treat with you in this matter. You have brazenly attacked us for no reason, and we see a man felled apparently also by your hand. Should we allow you to depart what allowances do you make to not continue this killing spree of yours? What can we do to satiate your thirst for wanton murder?"
Relaxing his grip ever so slightly, and dropping his hammer to a less threatening position, Jorvik slowly walks in front of Aoife.
"Come creature. Let us talk. You have my word that I will not attack you or your Tindlecrik unless attacked."
"You have my word also! This wasn't a killing spree. This was a favor for a friend," the quickling says, clearly making an effort at speaking slowly. He steps out from the other side of the tree he ran behind, body still blurred.
"This man was a gift for a friend. He had wronged my friend, and needed to die. This was not wanton murder." While the companions are unsure what wrongs a farmer could do to an evil fey, they do believe that the quickling did indeed have a vendetta against the man on the behalf of a friend of his - and that it was not a killing spree.
"Creature, I would hear more of this tale of vengeance. I am a child of the North. A chronicler of sorts. These stories pique my interest. And as travelers it is good to know customs we are unfamiliar with. Before you begin though, by your leave of course, I wish to heal my friend."
"Your friend here seemed to be very keen to cut the throat of my friend. And you weren't shy of stabbing him either. To me it sure looks like you enjoy a murderous spree."
Kuragin notices the footprints appearing in the snow, ending next to Ishbaad. It is not too hard to guess who has arrived to protect her uncle. But the quickling is still dangerous, so the witch tries to keep a spell ready should the creature pop in and attack.
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"Me know right from wrong, fey-ling, and killing when not in self-defense is wrong. What did this man do to you?" he asks as moves towards Ishbaad, taking out a wand. "What could he have done that was worth killing him? Who was this person that demanded you kill him? Why are you acting so evil?" Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight moves forward until he can use the wand on Ishbaad
"You're not as stupidasyoulook!" cries the quickling in response to Kuragin, before answering Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, "Weare eviland lovetokill! Butwe'retoofast foryou!" With that, the quickling speeds off to the south.
As everyone looks up, the twigjack leaps backwards into the branches of the tree behind him and is gone from sight. The quickling at least, though, has left a trail.
With the fey gone, the woman rushes out from the house. "Stay inside!" she yells back at her children, before going to her dead husband's side. Sobs wrack her body and she lets out a long low moan, tears streaming down her face to freeze before they pass her jawline.
"Thank the gods you came. I think they're holed up in the barn," she indicates a distant structure up a hill, "Why? Why would they do this?"
Ishbaad groans and coughs a few times, rolling over in the snow as the healing magics flow through him, binding the worst of his wounds.
”Whaa..” he grabs his head, hoping to stop the hammers inside it from banging. ”Did you kill them? The little fey bastards that jumped me?” he looks around, still trying to get his bearings.
”I am sorry for your loss, madam. Who did you say were holed up in the barn? The fey? Where are their bodies, are they dead now?” Ishbaad’s questions seem callous and harsh, moving quickly on from his sympathy, not giving the woman time to process what was happening to her. The last one, repeated from earlier, is directed towards his companions.
When it becomes clear that the little ambushers were still alive, Ishbaad begins to look around for tracks to follow. He snags the wand from the snow goblin, and taps himself a few times to finish binding his wounds.
"They fled, " says Kuragin, stating the obvious and not bothering to extrapolate. At this very moment his greatest interest is in healing himself, and so uses the magic of the curing wand.
"I do not know why they killed this man here, but I doubt the fey need any particular reason for their ill deeds."
Seeing the evil fey depart in such haste, having been duped again by magical creatures, Jorvik hangs his head in shame. He joins Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight in healing his oread friend.
"Stay your vengeance my friend. I have made a grievous tactical error in my fear to save you and they have fled. We will be unlikely to find them. Heafoc does not know how to track our enemies like other companions. I may have to remedy that.
"Sorry, Ishbaad, for I have failed you. Rather than allow the heat of vengeance overtake you, let us see what good we may provide this family that has lost so much.
"Woman, tell us what has happened here. The fey said they were instructed to sly your husband, but that could have been more lies."
Jorvik has a look of utter torment on his face. He has once again shown he is unfit for a leadership role in this small, rag-tag band of adventures.
"Thank you for rescuing us! They were seconds away from finding their way into the house when you arrived. My name is Maret Truskin," she looks back inside the house, worried for her children, and then to her dead husband, "Oh, Borvald, I'm so sorry. I think this is my fault. I never meant for it to happen..."
She realizes that everyone is still there and staring at her, and she sobers up somewhat. "I guess I can tell you... about sixteen years ago, a wandering minstrel - a satyr - seduced me. I was so young, and his music was so beautiful... and his wine was so strong. He left me with child. Garen. We had to live here, far from the other villagers. He could feel the pain of being ostracised though, and... and he ran away. Years ago.
"I think these creatures think they are his friends, and have somehow convinced him that it was my fault he wasn't accepted in town," she sobs anew, "Garen's a good child - tormented, but good at heart. He would not want them to do this. Can you save him? Please, can you?"
Kuragin sighs deep, knowing already what his companions are about to answer.
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"It no seem like he have good heart if he have these nasty evil fey kill your husband. That not what a longshanks with good heart does. Me think you might be misguided when it come to your child. Me think we can to talk to him, but me wonder what he will do when we come. Me do think that his 'friends' will be waiting for us, and will attack us. But, me think we should try. Maret Truskin, can you tell us what sort of fey abilities he inherited, just in case?"
"So when you say they might be holed up in the barn, you mean your son and his little fey friends?" Ishbaad says, stone faced and not specifically answering the request for help.
Help or no, I will not be denied my vengence.
Ishbaad waits for his answer first, then steps back to whisper to Kuragin, "I know your feelings. Know that my motivation to do this has nothing to do with helping this woman."
"Don't mention that loud enough for Aoife to hear, please."
"Abilities? I-I-I... I'm not sure what you mean..." the woman clearly looks confused but also worried for her son.
Kuragin knows that the product of human and satyr is usually a satyr, but if this woman is kind of heart and went willingly it most likely a faun. The two fey are quite similar, having horns and goat legs. Fauns also favor the panpipes as their instrument of choice.
"Yes, all of them are in the barn. There were the two you fought, but I think another of the quick ones also there," she looks up pleadingly, "The other one must have been keeping my son captured. I know he wouldn't want this!"
Jorvik walks over to his bow and picks it up. Slinging it over his back, the swings Frostreaver into a readied position.
"This lust for vengeance, careful not to let it could your judgement. These creatures were able to fell you in an instant. What makes you feel that with an added creature they will be less formidable.
"Kuragin, do we have any defensive magics to help spot the one that moves so quickly? Let us not rush headlong to fall in to the same trap, the same errors.We should also stick together, defensively, and try to get the jump on them."
Uncomfortable with the situation, Jorvik turns towards Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. "Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, use your bombs early and often. I care not for this woman's barn when it comes to our lives. Perhaps we can flush them into our hands. At the least you can enjoy a good funeral pyre for that poor man."
As they head off, Jorvvik studies the tacks hoping to gain some insight.
Jorvik rummages through the groups pack. "Hmm, we have this tangle foot bag. Maybe we can slow that creature down after all."
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Beside the sturdy legs of Ishbaad, two small feet-shaped depressions remain nearly toe to toe with the stone man. As he moves and steps about, oddly, the depressions in the snow seemingly plod along in silence, though can never actually be witnessed to move or visibly disturb the blanket of white, and so the shallow prints are simply beside him at all times as if the marks had always been there. It might feel to him, and to those about that notice, as though the haunting of some lingering spirit was always at his side though never speaking and never to be seen.
Harsh and unkind words are passed in a whisper from the oread's mouth to the cold northerner possessing witch's blood, but even the hushed tones still pass adjacent to the perceived lingering and protective presence that seems to be haunting Ishbaad.
Ishbaad grumbles at Jorvik's pointed remarks about how the two diminuative creatures cut him down so easily. He is right, and so Ishbaad offers a grunt in reply, a resigned acknowledgement.
He walks over to Onyx as quickly as his plodding legs will carry him.
"Stay here boy. Watch over them. If the little bastards sneak back here, take them and run for all your worth."
Not sure if that will work yet... but he does seem to be responding much better to me.
"Come here please child," Ishbaad says, looking around for Aoife, but obviously not seeing her. "Touch my hand." Ishbaad closes his eyes, whispering a prayer to his goddess, and divine energies flow through him onto the invisible wild child. He then casts the same spell on himself.
Ishbaad grips his spear in both hands as they stand at the door to the barn. "Iomedae, wreath my weapon in your righteous flames. Grant me strength through my faith." and with that, the mighty Oread kicks the door in.
Kuragin just nods on Ishbaad's declaration of his motive. "Just remember the north is not about justice or even revenge. It's only about survival," he whispers back, but is not going to persuade him to let it go.
"I do have magic that will enable me to see the fey, even if they are invisible to the mortal eye. But they are fast enough to sprint from one hiding place to another, so they might still be able to hide. Best be careful"
Annoyed of being drawn into another needless danger, Kuragin does his best to avoid the woman and her children. He patiently waits for the others to finish their interactions with the peasant.
Before leaving, he uses his wand to conjure magic armor to surround his body, and utters the magic words needed to cast to spell that lets him see the invisible.
Once on the way to the barn, he voices out his concerns about the missing son. "Fauns generally do not possess much physical threat, but they have magics that could really foil our assault. In any circumstance, do not let it play it's pipes. Do what you have to, but do not let it play the pipes."
Quite literally following in her guardian's footsteps, the silent specter of an invisible child prods along leaving no tracks of her own. As the man calls softly for her, a moment later he feels the subtle grasp of small fingers pressed loving against his palm and curling into a tender grasp. As the magical spell falls upon the both, the unseen child feels the weight of protection embracing her. Outside the barn, moments before they enter, she refocuses her mind for perfecting the deadly strikes she will need once the doors are parted before them. Then the invisible phantom moves to takes a place near the portal, leaving only a few small depressions in the snow, and readies to rush in and face whatever danger may present itself.
The companions brave the wintry path up to the barn. The quickling's footprints clearly lead all the way to the barn, and they are joined half-way by some heavier footprints. The barn is a simple enough building, a single storey with no frills or decorations on the outside. The double doors are closed, and not even Kuragin's magically enhanced vision can spot any creatures lurking nearby (though he does see the translucent form of Aoife).
"Here in the north we do fight to survive, but a tale of vengeance served is needed now, to stir the blood, to thrust your spear, to swing your sword, to smash with fear.
Once there was,
a wolf so cruel,
in his maw
was death for all,
but Then comes Sigfather's mighty son,
Vithar, to fight with the foaming wolf;
In the giant's son does he thrust his sword
Full to the heart: his father is avenged."
Begin raging song: Can choose to accept it or not, +2 to str and con, +1 on will saves, -1 to AC
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight goes through his extracts and infusions. He hands Aoife infusions of Enlarge Person, to make her bigger and hit harder and an infusion of Longarm to make her reach even further. To Jorvik and Ishbaad he give potions of Enlarge person. Finally, he gives Ishbaad an infusion of expeditious retreat, because he is so slow in his clunky armor.
Himself, he gulps down extracts of see invisible and cat's grace.
"Me ready. You all drink up."
Ishbaad visualizes kicking the door in with his magical boar spear wreathed in flames.
Soon enough...
He drinks the infusion that the resourceful goblin handed to him and moves into place by the door.
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Remembering far too well the beating he took from the twigjack, Kuragin now takes care he walks behind his more physically capable allies. He even wields the icicle wand to make sure he has some means to fight the annoyingly quick fey cretures.
"After you... "
As the companions stand still and ready themselves for entering the small barn, the breeze picks up. All but Kuragin feel a distinct edge to the chill. This drop in the temperature is all that distinguishes the night from the day until the long dusk at midnight. There is still no sign of the fey who harried the companions earlier, nor their faun and quickling allies.
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The little goblin waits, trembling in anticipation. Never one to be known for patience, he starts to look like he is going to run up and open the doors himself, of course putting himself into additional danger. He starts tossing the bomb flask in his hand up and down, waiting for the opportunity to throw it.
"Boss?" he asks of Kuragin, "Now???"
Two small foot prints stand, steadfast and resolute in their posture, a few feet south of the barn door. The invisible child reaches back and touches the wrapped hilt of her greatsword, checking to be sure it is ready should a fight ensue. Lowering her unseen hand, she leaves the sword sheathed, still strapped to her back, and clenches her enormous hands into fists. Turning, she looks to the others and watches, wondering if they are expecting her to open the door, and after a moment more of waiting she steps a bit closer and reaches out to swing the door wide. She leans very far toward the handle, attempting to remain out of the aperture once the door is opened.
"Ready?" the child's disembodied voice is carried on a chill wind to the others.