Ishbaad nearly buckles from the blow. His head swims from the blood loss, but he growls away the pain.
I will not be laid low. You will not defeat me... Ishbaad closes his eyes, focusing on his divine appointment, ignoring the nagging questions in his mind about his motivations.
The blood still pours from his newest wound, but the fire glows anew in the power hungry, wolven inquisitor's eyes. He licks his flaming lips, and lunges forward again, nearly passing out from the pain of the effort.
for
Heafoc flutters about Bathor's head, clearly annoying him while Aoife resumes her strangle-hold on the winter wolf.
Ishbaad has his own struggle, however, and tears once more at Agilur's throat. The big winter wolf grits his teeth as the pain flows through his body. Ishbaad rips downwards, this time causing Agilur to tumble to the ground.
The winter wolf who once was the oread known as Ishbaad does not know how long he blacked out for, but when he wakes, it is with the ice-blue eyes of Agilur staring into his own. Moisture becomes ice in the wake of the two winter wolves' breaths and each can smell their own blood on the other's maw as they lie on the ground opposed to each other.
"Yield," growls Agilur, the vibrations from the bass tones in his voice tingling the fur on Ishbaad's sensitive nose, "Or die."
Of course... The stupid oread brings this fight upon us, then demands to fight the alpha alone, and now is about to lose
"Bring the lackey-wolf down, quick! We are about to get the alpha on our flank!" It definitely looks like Ishbaad is not going to last long against Agilur. So they best get rid of Bathor as fast as possible. This in mind, Kuragin starts spellcasting, and soon unleashes his almost-trademark soundless scream on Bathor.
So it comes to this...
Ishbaad breaths heavily, blood flecks mixed with the moisture in his breath. The ice and snow on the road beneath him begins to turn black with the pooling blood as his chest heaves with each labored breath.
You mean to humble me, my goddess. I can see this now. Ishbaad wheezes and coughs, trying hard to keep his crystalline blue eyes focused on the wolf across from him, who appears in a similar state.
Was it honor that drove me to salvage the honorable fight? Or selfishness? He gave me the upper hand, and I gave it away...
The feelings of guilt for his transgressions swell up in his heart again, threatening to overwhelm his infatuation with the both the chaotic anger he feels as a winter wolf, and the infatuation with the forbidden woman, Greta.
For a moment, he sees blackness beneath his feet. An abyss unfathomably deep. He looks back over his granite skinned shoulder to see Jewel, standing at the edge of a cliff, reaching for him. She seems so impossibly far away.
He looks back the other way, this time a long wolf's muzzle shows in the bottom of his vision. On another cliff is Greta, smiling deviously with lust in her eyes.
His heart is torn. Painful memories are one way, and empty promises of escape are the other.
Yield. ... or die.
The demand echoes in his head, the vision of Aligur's canine face dancing around him, taunting him, stomping on his pride with a sneer and a mocking laugh. With each sneer and growl, Ishbaad moves closer to Greta, his pride unwilling to bow.
Can I even go back now? Have I already gone too far? What forgiveness is there for me when my heart aches for what I know is wrong?
Ishbaad blinks again, trying to maintain his stern gaze as he looks hard at Agilur. The dripping blood from dozens of gashes put a red haze over his vision.
I... I am not a winter wolf. I will never be one, no matter how much I will it to be so. I am Ishbaad. Husband of Jewel the Graceful. Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae. Friend of Tighernean. Guardian of Aoife. Friend of Jorvik, Kuragin, and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight.
The image of Greta begins to fade slowly. The abyss below his feet rushes up to meet him and panic envelops his heart.
OK! Ok my goddess. I submit to you. I am humbled before you. Show me the way back to the path you have laid out before me.
Suddenly his vision is bathed in a bright, warm and welcoming light. While he can no longer see the face of his precious Jewel, he can feel her presence and comfort. To his relief, he feels no judgement, only warmth.
"Yield..." Ishbaad finally breaths, relaxing the tension in his body, casting his eyes to the ground that continues to soak up his lifeblood.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, excited to see that he has two wolves burning from his bombs is poised to get a third. However, he sees that the one next to him has escaped the grasp of Aoife, so he takes a step back and chucks another bomb, excluding any friends.
"Leave Eefie alone!!!" he screams, as the bomb flies out of his hand.
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Frostreaver poised above the winter wolf, blood coursing through his veins, he seen Ishbaad down in the snow, bleed profusely.
Time slows down. Every snowflake is falling incredibly slowly, every mouse scamper is like a drum ringing in his ears.
He turns. He hears.
"Yield ...
NO! DO NOT DO IT. SHOW NO MERCY. TAKE NO MERCY. KILL OR BE KILLED!!!! he screams in his mind.
But no. This is Ishbaad. And a fight over a mate.
I am not ready to loose him. Or any of them yet.
Jorvik drops the head of Frostreaver to the hard packed snow where it impacts with a 'thump' and creates a small divot.
He turns to his companions, "Friends, we fought well today, but alas it is not our day. I for one shall not take nor give up life for this lover's quarrel. Wolves. You have proven your worth and are victors this day. Leave us to tend to our wounded as you should."
Jorvik strides over to Ishbaad, and lays his hands upon him.
He mutters a prayer to Desna, and Ishbaad can feel the flow of curatives magics course through him.
Bathor's ears bleed from the pain Kuragin causes him.
"You weren't as weak as I thought, but still..." Agilur begins, about to gloat when Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's bomb goes off and sets Bathor aflame. His hackles raise instantly. "He yielded! The fight was over, and you try to kill my pack mate!" Agilur screams, "You and your pack have no honor!"
With that, Agilur twists around and snaps viciously at Ishbaad.
Bathor lets out one final breath of retribution as Aoife closes his throat and the flames engulf his body.
The cold closes in on the companions, freezing even the Jadwiga's blood with its suddenness and ferocity. The flames are enough to drop Bathor, who burns quietly on the ground.
In the distance, Halgren rounds a bend and (presumably) later dives into a snow drift to put out the flames.
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Ishbaad lays on the ground close to death and as vulnerable as a man, Oread, or Winter Wolf can be. His head lays on the icy ground, the shame of defeat and humility like an unbearable weight holding it down.
The sound of a bomb echoes in his drooping ears.
"He yielded! The fight was over, and you try to kill my pack mate!" Agilur screams, "You and your pack have no honor!"
He hears Agilur scream the accusation for the second time in less than a minute, and instantly realizes he is doomed.
It is only by the grace of Iomedae, for there can be no other explanation as to how and why he was spared, that Agilur lunges and misses his throat. Surely so close as he was to death, this should have been the end.
Iomedae demands justice. In a flicker of his eyes, Ishbaad looks up at the exposed, bleeding throat of Agilur, so close and so vulnerable from overextending his fateful missed attack.
This is not justice. I have been defeated.
Ishbaad forgoes the easy attack, the expected attack that would have ended his adversary's life. It was an attack he knows Agilur would have taken had their positions been switched. But he was not a Winter Wolf. He was Ishbaad the Chosen, and he did have honor. Even at the risk of his own life.
With a deep breath Ishbaad blows an impossibly cold cone of ice that washes over Bathor, dousing the flames from the goblin's bomb.
Ishbaad roars in frustration that Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's persistence nearly got him killed.
"Do not speak to me of honor, Agilur-the-coward-who-cannot-confront-his-foe-without-first-running-to-his- pack. You choose to ignore my submission and strike at me anyways because you are afraid of me! You use the goblin as an excuse to strike me down out of fear, not from some broken code of honor! I have saved the life of your friend, but now yours hangs in the balance. Strike me down Agilur the coward, and my pack will cut you down before you take another breath. Die with your selfish vengence! Or swallow your pride and walk away with your victory, your life, and the life of your pack mate. Your choice."
Ishbaad cranes his neck forward from his prone position on the ground, daring Agilur to strike, hoping in the same breath that no one actually moves.
Agilur slowly gets to his feet and puts the icicle-sharp teeth in his massive jaws a hair's breadth from Ishbaad's neck. The winter wolf alpha looks over at Bathor, burning on the ground and his snout curls in a sneer. "Heal him, or this one dies." The statement is simple, but full of emotion.
Silence falls as both winter wolves wait to see what will happen.
"You are no longer in the position of power here Agilur." Ishbaad chuffs, short bursts of hot breath puffing out of his mouth and nose.
"Kill me and you die. That is the deal, no matter how you arrive to that conclusion. Your pack mate is not dead yet. Lick your wounds and walk away and you both live. There is nothing left for us to do here. You make the choice that decides your honor, your fate."
Now this part may just get me killed anyways...
"There are better things we could be doing than killing each other. Old Loyalties that must be seen to for when the inevitable returns." Ishbaad speaks in low tones for the last part, giving the proclamation its proper reverence.
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The child stands up from the now still body of the giant wolf and spends a moment looking upon it, a surge of disgust with herself at having helped bring this creature down. Behind her, she can hear the gruffly savage voice of her guardian, now twisted and altered as it projects through the throat of a wolf, speaking with other beast. As the two exchange words, Aoife stands and looking upon the pathetic, blood stained fleece of the mighty beast, charred, burned, and with tufts of hair roughly pulled free.
She blinks and tears come to her eyes, as the image of the dying creature flashes back to that of Deputy, her father's massive wiry-haired hound. As she thinks about the damage she has just inflicted and thinks about having done that to her own precious puppy, she drops to her knees in tears. She wonders about this beast before her, and wonders if it were special to anyone else. This wolf could have been another's child or another's father, and she had almost helped take its life, just as her own father's had been taken from her.
Clumsily she removed her pack and rummages for a moment, struggling to grasp anything with her gigantic gauntlets, then pauses, putting one finger in her mouth, bitting down on the material and then spitting the glove into the snow. A moment later the other glove lay beside it, one-face down with the awkward, lifeless fingers spread wide and the other palm-up with its enormous red jewel glinting in subdued light.
Her small hands finally end their search and she pulls free a wrapped glass bulb, securely stopped with a sturdy cork. With a struggle she wrestles the cork free, her once unnatural strength having now fled from her as its source, the gauntlet's lay in the snow feet away, was removed. Aoife begins to first dump a bit of the liquid on the wolf's muzzle, then works to pry open its cavernous jaw to help it drink the rest.
One hand moves to pet the matted fleece, as the child realizes she is still crying.
"You are a wolf..." she says to the beast, hoping it will open its eyes and hear her words. "You are proud and strong... You are majestic..."
"And I will not fight you any more..."
Powdery snow puffs upwards when Kuragin falls unconscious to the ground. The snowflakes hover around him for a moment, and then start their slow descent over the motionless witch. Kuragin's northern skin is not warm enough to melt the snow, so the flakes keep their solid form, and settle all over him. Now covered completely with a finest layer of snow, the Jadwiga looks like he'd been lying there for a long, long time.
But he still breathes.
"You are no longer in the position of power here Agilur..."
"It's gone beyond power here," Agilur says with jaws still at the ready, "This is about Bathor's life... and whether your companions value yours more than his death. Your companions that remain conscious that is." Ishbaad is struck by how far this Winter Wolf is going to save the life of his pack mate. He also gets the impression that Agilur does not agree with Ishbaad's assessment that he would die upon Ishbaad's death. Whether if that is because he doubts the strength of Ishbaad's pack or because he doubts that they would risk themselves further, the oread in wolf's clothing cannot tell.
Aoife pours a healing draught down Bathor's throat and he coughs and splutters back to life, immediately rolling around to get the flames off his scorched coat.
Bathor quickly gets back to his feet as he sees Agilur backing away from Ishbaad's prone form, and trots over to the pack alpha.
"Much better," Bathor bows to Aoife, "You have chosen well in this one. She has honor, loyalty and respect. Strange to find a human pup that is so strong. Train her well, and when she blooms she will rival even Winter Wolf bïtches for strength and ferocity."
Agilur's changes into human form. His pelt shrinks from his body to become a clook, giving the impression that a curtain was being drawn back to reveal human form. Agilur is strong and muscular, almost a hand taller than Ishbaad himself. His features are strong set and unmistakably Northern. He would be considered very handsome in any society that values beauty. His cold blue eyes lock with Ishbaad's.
"By the laws of our people, you will stay away from Greta now," he demands, "She may not be mine but she will never again be yours.
"So," he adds casually, "What was this about 'old loyalties'?"
"Well that fight was a real b$~!+."
Jorvik moves to Ice and casts his last spell of the day.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, you fought well today for the bosses" though he uses the word Ice uses, Jorvik does not like it. "Come there is still much to do."
"Bathor & Agilur, you have our respect. I believe this one will have no troubles keeping his things to himself from now on. You mention 'old loyalties'. Though we are from the north," Jorvik motions to Kuragin whom he hopes someone is healing, "We have been gone long only to return to see things are different. The north does to change. It should be frozen in time, working as it always has.
"We are here to overthrow the queen and restore Baba Yaga and it would be super cool to have a pack of kickass wolf/humans running with us.
"Now things do not work that way, and it is disconcerting. We are interested in how one can change the north, and how people feel about this change.
"As I said we have been gone long, and this is all quite new to us. You who have been here, can you help us to understand?"
Wearily, Kuragin opens his eyes, but doesn't bother getting up. He rests against the cold ground, and the only action he can make himself do is blow off some snow from his face. Spending a moment to think and recall what just happened, the witch get onto his knees, and slowly stands up.
"I hope we are done here." he mutters, looking not-too-affectionally at Ishbaad.
By winter wolf law... And probably for my own good. Ishbaad weathers the stare from Kuragin, silently accepting the admonishment.
He gets up slowly, once the hostilities have backed off, and allows himself to shift back into human form. Despite his familiarity with the humanoid shape, the distinct feel of being human is odd. He nods to Agilur with grim, begrudging respect.
For once, let Jorvik do as he said he would do. He is better to speak on this. I will likely just get us killed. As I nearly already have.
"These things are best not spoken about in the open. I should have kept my muzzle shut just now anyways." Ishbaad takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes properly low.
"But the Jadwiga speaks the truth. Things are not as they should be. I know I am not the only wolf to think it, though I may be the only one stupid enough to say it out loud."
Ishbaad takes a step back, hoping to let Jorvik take it from there. He walks over to Aoife first, then to each of his 'pack', making sure each of them has a healing potion or three, enough to get them back to prime health.
Aoife stands and watches as the wolves gather, their pack still menacing and deadly in her eyes. Oddly, even after they had seemingly fought for survival, she also sees the small pack as fiercely proud creatures, that fought with greater honor and dignity than even her own pack. Turning to Ishbaad as he steps closer, she motions toward the wand of precious healing magics, and ask for help without voicing any words aloud to her guardian.
As she stands her cloths flutter and tussle in the freezing gusts, but the child continues to stare toward the grand, yet imposing, white wolves. Instead of putting her father's gauntlets back on her hands she tucks them away in her pack and once more draws up the Queen Mother harrow card to clutch it tightly in her grasp.
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"Boss, thank you. Me sorry if me get you all in danger, but me was very scared of big bad wolf.... I no thinked he would have stopped. I listen good next time and be more careful. Maybe use me weapons instead... Me make drink to make Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight stronger instead of quicker then. What you think?" the goblin is visibly shaken by the beating that he had received.
When it comes time to heal Aoife up with the wand, Ishbaad manages to get one charge off but the second simply won't work. He tries the other wand, but that is also tapped out. He tucks the two useless sticks back in his belt and looks around for other options.
"Change the North, Jadwiga?" Agilur all but scoffs, "For over a thousand years, there has been Winter in Irrisen. For over a thousand years, the winter wolves have been the foot soldiers of Baba Yaga's armies - for it was she who gave us the power to change our forms. For over a thousand years, Baba Yaga makes a new daughter of hers queen. Anyone - or any queen - who thinks this can change is fooling herself.
"But yes, not in the open. If you want to talk, let us meet at the Last Howl, an hour before midnight."
Seeing his foes who fought so valiantly still reeling from fire, bite, scream, choke and hammer, Jorvik taps Bathor and Agilur once each.
"We will be there. Rest and heal up comrades.
"Come, we have only a few hours until sundown and I would like to finish at least that task today." Groaning, Jorvik makes ready their departure. He moves towards the upturned fish cart and helps to right it and pick up the fallen fish.
The wolves are surprised to see a Jadwiga giving up healing magics to help them. Surprised, and appreciative.
"Thank you," Agilur says, brow furrowed in confusion, "Your fairness and mercy will not be forgotten."
"Last Howl it is then. Hopefully we are not detained any further in the city." Ishbaad says this last part not intending any accusation. Dominance has already been established, so he is simply stating things for what they are.
How would we explain my absence, or at least me in winter wolf form? This cloak will not last much longer I fear.
Nodding again to the two victorious challengers, Ishbaad turns away to once again follow their guide's lead into the city.
Agilur nods and allows Ishbaad and his companions to go along their way. Ringeirr seems unhappy with the situation.
"I'm not sure about staying in the Howlings," he says when he is certain there are no prying ears about, "And how are you gonna meet with Agilur tonight? Your cloak's got another half hour in it at most. He won't even recognize you in your usual form... but he might scent you. When he realizes the deception, I don't know if his reaction will be friendly. The Last Howl will be packed with winter wolves."
Ringeirr is so unhappy with the situation, he turns to the others for help, "And what do the rest of you think about meeting up with the winter wolves at one of their dens? Surely at least some of you have better sense than that!"
He cautiously turns to investigate. A small snow goblin is motioning for him to come over. "Hey! You! Yes, you!" he whispers. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight notes another four snow goblins cowering behind the lead one, "Ya've got some strong allies. We were gonna jump ya, but that fight... whew! You runnin' some kinda scam? Think you can let old Grindtooth in on it?" Grindtooth seems quite eager to salvage his 'operation' despite his cowardice pragmatism.
As they depart from the winter wolves, Jorvik turns to address Ringeirr's very valid concerns.
"Yes, to engage wit h these wolves in their den is dangerous, and as you say, not the wisest of choices. Yet we are here to do the unthinkable, to overcome the impossible, risk is part of the expectation.
"Ishbaad does not need to accompany us. There are other options. We shall discuss them once we meet your contact.
"Ringeirr, we are grateful for all you are doing for us. If we decide to not follow your sage advice it is not because we do not value your opinion, but it is because we must make bold choices, bolder than you and your organization have had to make, in order to accomplish our goals.
"I pray Desna we make the right choice."
"It may sound strange," the child begins, almost speaking to herself and not addressing anyone in particular. "But they did seem to fight with honor."
Unlike us, she fails to add in then waits a moment before continuing.
"And, they seem to serve Baba Yaga," she says, now turning to face Ringeirr fully. "They are wolves, proud and fierce. They could probably have killed us where we stood, had they wanted to. I do not believe they would set such a trap for us."
"Wolves don't set traps for hares, they hunt them openily and without mercy."
"Oh, lass," Ringeirr shakes his head, "They are not setting the trap... you are. To follow your analogy, what rabbit willingly walks into a wolves' den and then insults them? I pray for you, and you Jorvik, that whatever you do works well for you. Jorvik is right that you make bold choices, but he is wrong about something else: the Heralds have also been known to make bold choices... most of those Heralds are no longer with us, and neither are their families. The witches do not stop punishing you and yours just because you are dead."
"I admit, that I would feel far more comfortable about meeting them in their den had I another enchanted rimepelt. However, they are very expensive, not likely easy to come by, and," Ishbaad looks off into the distance, "I didn't exactly make the best choices while wearing the last one. We made it into the city nonetheless." He takes a deep breath and continues walking, as if attempting to put a finality to the awkward situation.
"We don't really even know what we would need the wolves as allies for. I must admit that knowing where they stand on the current situation with Queen Elvanna could be useful, even if it only helps us to better understand what we are up against. Just the news alone that the city is practically divided on the issue, and that the dancing hut appears to be defending itself, for whatever that means, is intriguing. I want to know more."
I cannot have Greta, even if I wanted. Even though I want it, I cannot. I must not. It nearly got Icy and Kuragin killed just now. No, if we go, whether I am there or not, it must only be to gather information. I have been selfish enough today to last a lifetime.
Ishbaad walks along in relative silence, mulling over the conversation, the pros and cons.
"What if Ringeirr is right." He says suddenly, breaking a recent pause in the conversation. "What if some of the wolves are loyal to the current queen, and we simply walk into their trap. Then suddenly the queen will have her black rider, even if she doesn't realize it. We would be doomed before we even got started in the city."
"I won't say that we shouldn't do it for fear of being betrayed. Maybe I am just asking the question that if that were to happen, how would we handle it? What would the hare do to escape once he has waltzed into the wolves den?" he says, bringing relief to Ringeirr's face and then suddenly squashing it with an even greater worry it seems.
Ishbaad adds randomly after all of that, his thoughts as scattered as a deer's legs on ice, "Ringeirr is right, and Jorvik's assesment is correct. If I cannot attend in my current guise, then I should not go. Though I worry that would be worse than not going at all. If they believe you are my pack, then why would you show up without me?"
"What would the hare do to escape once he has waltzed into the wolves den?"
The child hears the her guardian's words and sits puzzling for a moment, recalling a long forgotten childhood fable, frightening yet oddly comforting, the story of El-ahrairah, the Prince Rabbit had always stuck with her.
"The hare wouldn't walk into a trap, I supposed. Hares have to be resourceful, fast, and cunning, as all the world is their enemy," she responded to Ishbaad. "If you could not go with us... is there a way to turn that to our advantage?"
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight moves over to where Grindtooth is standing. In goblin, he says, "Shhh! Me working big scam. Make gobbos very rich! Me no can tell what, yet, but me need some good gobbo help! Hey, you make big booms too? Me make the biggest! Fire to make Zarongel s+@+ his pants!
"You got little gang with you, me see! Me is Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight... big goblin hero! Me think maybe you need me! What score you workin' on, Grindtooth? Maybe we work a little boom boom together, then maybe I tell you a little about big score! Make all things good for snow goblins!
"Say, you see me mum around? It been a while since Longshanks from the south take me away."
Aoife turns and catches a glimpse of Ice Melts Quietly attempting to slink away and sidle up to the shadowed outline of a figure she does not recognize. Words are spoken from her younger brother, but the strangle, vaguely guttural words are wholly unknown to her. Standing motionless and watching, the cogs and gears within the child's mild try to process and understand even a small bit of what is being said.
"...Me working big scam. Make gobbos very rich!..."
Even the completely unobservant Grindtooth can tell that something is fishy, but hey, goblins lie all the time! Also, the very affable Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight isn't lying about the bestest thing ever...
"You... also... make..." Grindtooth pauses to inhale deeply between each breathy word, "...BOOMS?!!?!" Grindtooth actually seems upset. His 'men', though, look admiringly at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight.
Grindtooth turns to glare at his gang then answers, "Scam? Oh yeah, we were just gonna mug them. Looks like Jadwiga and winter wolf with them, though. So... thought maybe we could get in on your scam. Yeah? Or maybe you just give us..." Grindtooth licks his needle-like teeth, "... more booms and we make fun in Howlings?"
Ringeirr smiles a satisfied smile at Ishbaad, "Some sense at last, lad. Let's worry about all that later. First, we go to see Solveig. Come, she's not too far from here."
Ringeirr furrows his brow... "As soon as you get your snow goblin friend back. Looks like he's headed for trouble."
Ishbaad nods to Ringeirr, hearing the sound of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight speaking in his strange, warbly goblin language to a group of other snow goblins.
He walks over, shifting to wolf form as he goes, and stands over top of the diminuitive goblin. Glaring at the gathered group, he huffs once, two streams of steamy breath pouring out of his nostrils and flaring over Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's shoulders, causing him to look fearsome indeed.
"Just because I trust you now, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, doesn't mean I trust all goblins. You are the exception, not the rule. We have places to be, and not much time to get there. No more goblins." he wispers to his friend.
Ishbaad pauses to think over the situation. He remembers the goblin's reaction to his harsh words when they first entered into the Howlings, even though it was part of the ruse.
Better not upset him again.
"You know what goblins are like. You know you care for Aoife. These goblins don't care about Aoife. They will hurt her, and us if they get a chance. Come with us. Let us help you find whatever it is you are looking for."
The band of goblins looks taken aback as a winter wolf approaches them, and also at how chummy he is being with the 'bigger boom' alchemist. However, Grindtooth finds a small reservoir of courage within himself and stands up to Ishbaad. "Back off, wolfie. Gobbo bizness."
To Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight he softly adds, "Budeš ho zastaviť od nás zabíja, je to tak? Six proti jednému?"
"You'll stop him from killing us, right? Six against one?"
"How about we first go meet this contact of Ringeirr's, before committing to any more madness with the winter wolves."
Kuragin cannot help scratching the dead, cold patch of skin of the frostbite on his cheek.
How odd it feels... Quite unexpected sensation. But I'd like to keep this hour as my first and last experience with cold
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"Chcete pracovať s topí ľad na pokojnom mieste v Sunlight, budete pracovať s nimi. Ak chcete s nimi bojovať, budete mnou bojovať, veľký hrdina šotek. Voľba je na vás. Chcel ste, aby sa naše veci ... možno som len vziať svoje veci."
To show he means business, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight drinks his mutagen. He assumes Grindtooth will know what that is.
Grindtooth looks impressed, but not impressed enough to really back down. He is, however, more eager for potential gains than a potential fight.
"Fine," he says in Skald, "Grindtooth never far from this alley. You want us in on some plan, big score... you know where to find us!" The other goblins nod along eagerly. Clearly they, too, were not so keen on fighting two Jadwiga, a winter wolf and the bigger-boom alchemist.
Ringeirr leads the party back through the streets of the Howlings district and pulls up at the door of a small hovel close to edge of Whitethrone proper. "This is where we leave the food," he says, rapping on the door, "These are good people, and will see to its fair and equitable distribution."
A skinny, dirty-faced Ulfen woman answers the door. After a few short words with Ringeirr, she gratefully hugs the man and helps him to wheel the cart inside off the streets. Without further fuss, he leads the way once more. "Soon, we will leave the Howlings and be on our way to the Shrine of the Everbloom where we will meet Solveig."
The winding streets of the Howlings give way to an intersection of broad thoroughfares that lead to other districts of Whitethrone, where the buildings continue to improve in the quality of their construction and the exquisite detailing of their woodwork. In the distance, the sounds of more active neighborhoods can be heard, but Whitethrone is generally somber and muted. A white signpost, painted with neat black writing, stands at the crossroads.
The signpost is written in Skald and Giant and points the way toward “Two Hills” to the northeast, “Merchants’ Quarter and the Floes” to the southeast, and “Porcelain Street and Frosthall” to the south. Standing just behind the sign post are two strange figures with long flowing cloaks and faces covered completely by mirrors. Jorvik and Kuragin know only too well that this is not a mask - but their actual face.
"Papers please," says the one on the left in a voice completely devoid of emotion.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, care to explain what is going on?"
Handing over his papers, Jorvik has a scowl on his face.
That is three fights in a row that we have been bested. This is not the triumphal entry that I was expecting. I pray Desna my losses are shot lived.
Jorvik's scowl is reflected back at him using his own face as the mirror man slowly and deliberately takes the papers from him. It holds a piece of paper right up to its face very slowly one at a time. It doesn't appear to be reading it so much as trying to make sure the papers fill the field of view of its mirror.
"Stilyagi?" it asks simply.
The other mirror man turns its reflective face toward Kuragin.
"For the ... Yes. You would consider me Stilyagi, though I am Jadwiga. Born and bred. Is this a problem?"