Feeling at odds with the others, and still confused and upset at their reactions to her, Aoife can feel some of her connect has been lost with her friends. Perhaps this is just a temporary feeling that will take little more than a few days to get over, but the concern still nags at her, a deep seated fear that things have changed irreversibly with their once loving relationship. It is becuase of this disconnection that the child retreats into her mind, locking herself away for stretches at a time each night with her father's journal.
Her father was gone, she knew this to be true, but his words and feelings were still very much alive and waiting for Aoife in every tattered page of his journal. She could visit with him and protect herself from the others at the same time, filling the void caused by the absence of a loving connect with her companions with a person that she still loved very much, and whom she could still commune with, in a way, across the veil of death and gulf of eternity.
Her father's words might hurt, but they were true and honest, and they would never betray her.
|
Once again the two youngest and smallest of the companions set back out in to the city. Recalling long forgotten paths, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight leads them through the streets, allies, and sometimes sewers of Whitethrone. Eventually, he comes to a small square, where carts and shanties have been hastily arranged, with goblins selling all sorts of wares. He stops briefly at a stand, where he buys some street-meat for himself and Aoife. He doesn't ask what it is/was, but happily chomps down on it. If Aoife refuses to take hers, he just shrugs and eats hers, too.
"Gimblethorn, byddwch yn cofio i mi? Rhew toddi Yn dawel yng ngoleuni haul? Ydych chi wedi gweld fy mam yn ddiweddar? Ydy hi dal yn ein cartref?"
The merchant does recall his mother, and has a s~!%-eating grin when he says, "Ie, yr wyf jyst yn gweld hi neithiwr. Dyw hi ddim yn yn eich cartref anymore. Back Daeth Alley Boyz mewn ychydig ar ôl y Longshanks yn mynd â chi, ac yn cicio allan Starseer. Mae hi'n aros gyda Gimblethorn nawr. Mae hi'n un fenyw cain, rwy'n dweud wrthych!"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's jaw first drops, and then closes, as he obviously grinds his teeth. He quickly realizes that Aoife has understood none of this. "Grindteeth kick me mum out of her home. Me not so sad any more that he go die to Logrivitch, 'cause he bad goblin. Me mum now with best street meat dealer in all Whitethrone. Me go to his house now, so me can see her with you."
Then, remember his manners, unusually taught to him by his mother, Starseer (probably not her first name, but the one she definitely earned), he says, "Very yummy meat today. Not taste like rat or dog? What is it?"
Sergei seems to still be trying to put on weight. An empty tray of sweet meats and several empty cups of hot cocoa litter his table. He smiles weakly as Kuragin notices. "You were gone a while," is the only explanation he offers.
"When things went down in Ledenica... we ran, separately. That much you know," Sergei begins, "But I never made it to Oppara. I was captured in Whitethrone by the Iron Guard and questioned. They think I had something to do with the Heralds of Summer's Return!" Sergei's hands shake as he relates his tale. He tries to take a sip from a long-cold, long-empty cup.
"Then Queen Elvanna took over. The word came down that the Heralds were lower priority," he looks furtively around as though this might change at any moment, "And she stepped the Iron Guard down. They were supposed to hand me over to the winter guard, but they were bitter about being stepped down... and they had no evidence anyway. So... I went free. But, my mother and family will not have me. I've been living like a peasant ever since... until Pavel found me last night."
Sergei seems to be telling the truth. however, the letter left by Pavel leaves a lingering doubt in Kuragin's mind. Did Sergei really have nothing to do with the Heralds? Did the Iron Guard truly hold him with no evidence? What was the betrayal Pavel referred to?
Prvan waves off Jorvik's apology, "Think no more of it. Seems to me you have a lot going on!"
Sergei listens intently to what Jorvik has to say, allowing the man to finish before he responds, "The Old Ways are the best, and it would be good to return to them. I do not know a single man in the Iron Guard who would not agree. Our loyalties have always been to Baba Yaga first - after all, how would it work during a monarch transition? So, yes, we are behind you. Our job - our proper job - is to keep the peace in Whitethrone and it is high time we got back to it.
"But those are some pretty f@#~ing major gaps you'll have to fill me in on!" Prvan looks both intrigued and sceptical as he awaits further details.
"Ermine," smiles Gimblethorn, "Fancy, yes?" The butcher provides his 'son-in-law' a quick reminder on how to get to his house.
Aoife and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight wind their way around the alleyway. The paw-like symbols of the Frostfur goblins have, for the most part, been drawn over by a the split-tooth symbol of the Back Alley Boyz. The pair eventually make their way to Gimblethorn and Starseer's place. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight simply enters (knocking is not something goblins are known for) and his nostrils are assailed by the smell of gently roasting meat... mingled with rotting bones.
"Boy? That you boy? Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight? That you?" comes a voice from the shadows of the main family room. The goblin and the child approach to see an absolutely, disgustingly bloated goblin female reclining on her own back fat. Detritus fills the room, most of it food scraps. Starseer notices the looks she gets and smiles widely, "Marred me a butcher! Best move I ever done made. Thought I'd never see you again, boy. Why you come back? How you come back? And what you bring this girlie here for?"
When Aoife was born, I had promised the Pathfinders two more years. Two more years and I would leave. My days as a Seeker would be over. And now I find these expeditions my only escape.
I love her so much, but every time I hold her close... she... it is not her fault, but she... she reminds me of her mother. As she grows, so too does the resemblance. Her eyes, her laugh, the way she stands, her smell even... everything but her hair. Her hair is mine.
Erastil, help me to forget my wife so that I may love my daughter anew. Help me distance her sweet smile from the memories of the one who betrayed us both.
* * *
"Prvan, of course there are major holes. Do you think it wise for me to come here and lay out the entire plan? Of course not. But I can tell you some, so that you know I am for real.
"We are aware of the major challenges that we are to face. The Fey Forest, Logrivich Tower, hell man I saw that beast take flight and I am not ashamed to say that I almost s~#& my pants. But we are not alone. There will be distractions, and other who will rally to our cause, both human and inhuman. Queen Elvanna has made many enemies, as they all do.
"We will focus on Logrivich. Once that beast is out of the way, we need a full scale assault on Baba Yaga's hut, and the White Guard. We hope that the White Guard will be worthless after we slay the dragon. We have many who will help us, and a cache of supplies to help deal with her. One of our own, foolish, rash, impulsive, selfish," Jorvik ticks off fingers as he speaks, "Yet unbelievably brave, has scouted the tower. We know all there is to know. I just wish I had a magic arrow and Logrivich was missing some scales. But this in no children's story.
"After, If she is dead, and we can get to the hut, we can open it and free Baba Yaga. This I know and swear to you. Ask me not how, for this you will have to trust me. I have given you enough information for the witches to string me up by my balls and make me eat them. I am placing my life, and those I ... love and care for in your hands. I am no hot-tempered, ill-adjusted youth anymore, Prvan . My childhood, likes yours, is long dead. I am a man, a snowcaster elf, and I " Jorvik slams his hand on the table, venting all the frustration that he felt on the uncaring wooden object.
"As I said, if I can count you among our allies, I will share more information, more details. I hold many lives in my hands. My own I freely give in this quest, but they will not die in vain for my loose lips.
"Now, what can you tell me about the White Guard, the Fey Forest, or that beast Logrivich?"
"The Winter Guard you mean," Prvan smiles a sarcastically lopsided smile, "You really have been out of Whitethrone a while, haven't you? And when you talk like this, I believe you that you will do this. You insane man. You may be half-jadwiga, but you are the most full blooded northman I have ever met! You seem to have more thirst for slaying this dragon than a Linnorm King! Ha!"
Prvan thinks very carefully, 'The Winter Guard have some Jadwiga in their ranks. Mostly, though, they're from the older, weaker families. They're there to keep the peace and make sure the monstrous soldiers don't get any ideas. Mostly, the front liners are trolls, but they have winter sprites for spies as well. Oddly, no winter wolves have joined the ranks. Logrivich arrived from the far reaches of the North, perhaps called by Queen Elvanna specifically to run the Winter Guard. He is brutally efficient and a canny commander. She indulges him in many of his requests to keep him satisfied, and it has worked thus far. I know little of dragons or dragonkin, though, so I cannot help you much there.
"As for the Fey Forest, I know even less. It sprang up overnight and I'm pretty sure it is thick with winter fey. It's small, though, and the Winter Guard waste their time clearing what they can of it every day... hours before it regrows. Obviously, you know Baba Yaga's hut is shackled in the center of it all. Pretty sure the forest is some kind of defense mechanism. The presence of the forest certainly has got Queen Elvanna's icy knickers in a twist... but she'll never agree to relocate the Hut. Stubborn, that one... or perhaps she can't."
Prvan opens his hands palm up, indicating he's got little more to say.
|
|
Somewhat shocked by the transformation of her once spry mother, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight quickly gets over it. He rushes over to Starseer, embracing her. "This girlie is Aiofe... she my bestest friend in whole world! We go out and adventure together! I make BOOMS!, but not like when he goblin baby, and she hits things with her big sword. Together, we make things we hate dead. With our other friends."
"When the Longshanks take me, we go far to south. I tell them about other Longshanks that was using Frostfurs as spies and couriers. I make friends with one, who help me learn how to make bombs. Boss Coramus very smart for Longshanks, and we go all around Avistan and sell our potions and curatives. Many times, people throw stuff at Boss and me, but we smart, and we run fast. But, then me meet Aoife, and we and other friends go adventure and become big heroes!"
He looks around the room, seeing and smelling the mess she is living in. "Why you no clean up no more, Mum? You always say, 'be neat' and 'be smart'. Me learn well, and now me make drinks to make me big, drinks to make me strong, and drinks to heal me. Plus bombs! Me LOVE bombs!"
He thinks another moment before continuing, but not actually long enough to let her answer. "And where did Frostfur goblins go? What happened after Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight leave?"
"You done got yourself a boss who taught you to make bombs?" Starseer asks, holding Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight at arms length, "Oh, honey, you makin' your momma so proud! Come here and gimme another hug!"
When the embrace is over, she looks about the house, a little ashamed. "Well, I must say, look at the state of the place. Since me and Gimblethorn got together, and with us havin' some more children... well, it musta got outta hand. You are such a good boy wantin' to help me clean it up. Your brothers can help you! Boys! Come here and help your big brother clean up! Starlight Glinting Off Ice Shards, Snow Falling Heavily in Summer... this is your big brother, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight." Two snarling, feral goblin toddlers crawl out from somewhere amongst the mess. They sniff at their big brother uncertainly.
"He makes bombs," Starseer says. At once, they light up and start throwing anything they can find at each other.
"BOOM!" they yell repeatedly as each projectile lands.
"Not as wild as you, honey, but still pretty wild," she notes about the boys, "AS for what happened... well, them longshanks musta taken all our good fighter. Others left... and well, we didn't have enough to hold off the Back Alley Boyz. They always wanted our land, and well... they got it. Big fight, but they got it. Some Frostfurs left, but they've done outnumbered by them Back Alley Boyz ever since you left. Ain't nothin' we can do about it."
"Prvan, I thank you for what help you can provide. So are you with us? This is the time. The only time unless you want to fade into obscurity as Queen Elvanna and Princess Cassisoche push the noble Iron Guard in insignificance.
"Also, as a personal favor to me, I need to know the whereabouts of Nazhena Vasilliovna. I have a score to settle with her. Can you do this old friend? Do I count you with the silent majority ready to rewrite history? To be the stuff of legend, to be remembered as the ones to bring back Baba Yaga."
Jorvik turns to Ishbaad, wondering if the intelligent oread had more to add that he had forgotten.
"I am with you, Jorvik," Prvan states firmly, offering his forearm for a warrior's handshake, "We are with you." Prvan offers the same handshake to Ishbaad.
"Just let us know the time... or set up some kind of signal. I will make sure we are ready to strike... would you have us strike anywhere, or do you have somewhere in particular in mind? The guards around the Fey Forest in the Market Square perhaps?
"As for Nazhena Vasilliovna... I have heard of her. She is the one in charge of the hunt for the Riders - the Black Rider seems to have eluded her grasp. She is also looking for six foreigners who assaulted her Pale Tower. She is obsessed with it... and well she might be: if she does not deliver, Queen Elvanna will likely kill her or at least exile her. As for where she is, I do not know. She is hunting, and thus will likely have no fixed abode. We Iron Guardsmen are no longer privy to the movements of Whitethrone's elite - the Jadwiga Elvanna least of all."
The child steps closer to the enormously large goblin. "Everything your son says is true, Mrs. Sunlight," she says, smiling to toward Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. "Er... umm... Mrs. Starseer... I mean."
Turning now, Aoife speaks to the gathering brothers. "Your brother has fought, and killed, trolls, skeletons, men, zombies, plant thingys, even witc--" Aoife quickly cuts her words off. "What I mean is... he... ahh... Well, he's fought and killed so many different kinds of monsters, I can't even remember them all. He is a great warrior. And makes big ! And he burns everything."
Now the child turns back to Starseer. "I'm sure Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight would be happy to speak to those Back Alley Boyz for you. Maybe introduce them to his booms if they won't listen to reason."
"I could go with him..."
Ishbaad nods at Jorvik as he finishes up, and returns the hearty warrior's handshake to Prvan.
"A signal? How long would you need to mobilize once Logrivich is dead? It will take us a few days to finish our preparations, but tossing his headless body out of the tower might work." Ishbaad grins.
Overconfidence has always been a redeeming trait in a warrior.
"Or we could just blow it up when the wyrm is dead. This is your city though, and I won't deface it before you take it back except by your leave. As for where?" Ishbaad looks to Jorvik for confirmation as he gives his suggestion. "The shackled hut is our destination, and so getting through the forest will be our intent. Striking the Winter Guard that rings the trees would be ideal. I do not know how much time we will have to get to the hut, but I can't imagine we will want to lounge around the city for long after we kill the dragon."
Ishbaad looks back to Jorvik again, clearing his throat. "Unless we are going to finish settling that score first."
Ishbaad doesn't try to hide the innuendo, confident that the savvy soldier will put two and two together.
"Did you? Have anything to do with the Heralds, I mean?"
Kuragin's eyes are focused on the cup of cocoa on his hands, which he nervously twiddles with his fingers. It feels awful, to question his old friend like this. But Pavel's letter has sown a seed of distrust in Kuragin's heart, and he cannot get rid of the dark feelings. Perhaps it is all some game of Pavel's? Can he really trust that man either? He barely knows his at all, whereas Sergei is a very old friend.
And more painful it feels if he has betrayed me...
"I suppose luck was on your side, when Winter Guard took over. Of course, in general things haven't been much better with Winter Guard in charge, but at least you got free. Did the Iron Guard ... question you? I am sorry. But your face... It has seen looked better."
Jorvik had some contacts within the Iron Guard. Would they know something?
"We can fully mobilize within the hour if we know the hour," Prvan replies confidently, "But if you're going to face the fey in that unnatural forest, I'd recommend healing up and resting before going in. This battle won't be over soon and if you have somewhere secure to hide... like here... you can rest the night, and come out on the morrow with the Iron Guard as we march on the Winter Guard. Go with the contingent headed to the forest, we'll wedge out a gap for you and you just rush straight into the forest while we cover your backs."
Prvan smiles. He had clearly just come up with the plan and was quite proud of it. "As for Baroness Vasilliovna, she is powerful - perhaps powerful enough to challenge Logrivich himself. She will also be surrounded by her minions. It may be best if you wait until after you return with Baba Yaga before you face her."
"Did you? Have anything to do with the Heralds, I mean?"
"No," Sergei replies simply and without hesitation. Kuragin searches his face and body for signs that the man is lying but finds none.
"I suppose you had to ask," says Sergei breaking the silence, seeming hurt, "... and you asked a lot more gently than they did. Yes, the Iron Guard tortured me for information. Would that I had some to give that I might have ended my torment."
"And, I hope this isn't too rude of me to ask a favor of you," the child continues, looking pleadingly at the Starseer, though with an obvious look of mischief revealed behind her gaze. "Could you help me collect a bunch of red paint? I mean buckets and buckets full. As close to blood-red as we can find. But, no matter what, it has to be our secret. We cannot tell anyone about this. If we could find some way to make it here even, away from the prying eyes of longshanks, that would be best, so no one knows of it. Maybe Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight could help by using his powerful skill at alchemy."
"We can not even tell Ishbaad, Jorvik, or Kuragin about this," she says seriously to her brother.
Now Aoife smiles awkwardly at Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's mother. "I promise, if you help me get this paint, I will use it to misbehave..." she adds as her grin widens deviously.
"That is a good plan," Ishbaad says as his mind whirrs and clicks, thinking through the suggestion by Prvan. "We will no doubt be reeling from our fight with Logrivich. "
Assuming we survive, he keeps to himself.
"It would seem to be imperative that we rest and recover before pushing through the forest. I will mention that you will have some support, once Logrivich is dead. The Winter Wolves are eager to show their old loyalties as well. Logrivich is the lynchpin to all of this, and when we slay him, you will see all of Baba Yaga's allies come out of the gingerbread." Ishbaad smirks, proud of his alteration of that common saying to be more fitting for the city they are in.
"It seems that now is the time to get back to our preparations. It was an honor to meet you, Prvan. I hope fate treats you kindly." Ishbaad reaches out for another handshake before getting ready to depart, waiting to make sure Jorvik has said his piece.
"Prvan, I thank you for what help you can provide. As Ishbaad said we will rest here. Then went can move to the Fey Forest in strength and numbers. I will try and send you a sign when we move on Logrivich. And should our plans change, I will inform you straight away. Do you think it wise that we come to see you here, or is there a better way?"
Returning the handshake, Jorvik stares at Prvan. His youth's memories have come crashing down on him, remembering the years he spent carefree and happy in the soldiering life with him.
"My old friend, I cannot believe that it has come to this. To think that once we were stupid kids, playing pranks and playing at soldiering. And now this, dragon slaying, taking on the Winter Guard, freeing Baba Yaga. None of us really has a childhood in the north like my new southern friends, but it is like a dream to remember what we all went through. May Desna help us. All of us."
Jorvik nods to Ishbaad as they exit the room and head out of the Iron Barracks.
"So what did you think of Prvan? Did he seem trustworthy? if not, everything will fail. Shall we visit anywhere else before returning to the temple? If we were wealthy enough we could head over to the Water Palace. You wouldn't believe what you'd find there. It is a natural hot springs, and now you have to remember here in Irrisen, opulence is everything. They summon air elementals to dance around the wisps of steam drifting around. I saw it once. And I will never forget it. The grace, the beauty. It is overwhelming.
"And then to look upon Ringeirr, and the other slaves here, the dwarfs, and gnomes, and ever Ice Melt ... bah! he is not here, Ice's goblins.
"How such beauty exists next to such horrors. I wonder Ishbaad. I wonder."
"Child, I can get you all the paint you need, honey," Starseer replies, and her bloated jowls split evilly to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth, "Favor for favor. You'll owe me one, and we gobbos don't know much for patience. Expect me to collect soon."
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight probably is aware of the trouble Aoife is getting into, but he also knows not to contradict his mother in front of company.
"...you will see all of Baba Yaga's allies come out of the gingerbread..."
Prvan cannot manage to suppress a guffaw at this. "Nice," he mutters.
"Once Logrivich is taken care off, set off some fireworks atop his tower - I'm sure you can procure some," Prvan winks, "And we'll make sure we let you straight in. Use the entrance closest to the tower. The Winter Guard will be too busy scratching their arses without their commander to look for you that quickly. Trolls are strong, but terrible independent thinkers. Just be sure to kill that old White WItch in the tower who keeps them in line."
Prvan gives the heroes a goodbye and the doors of the Iron Barracks slam shut behind them with a certain... finality.
Beauty next to horror. So many impossible contridictions living in such close proximity.
Ishbaad nods along in silent agreement with his friend as they walk. Eventually he pipes up, "I should like to see those springs someday my friend. Yes, I would like that very much."
"Yes, to your earlier question. I did find him trustworthy. He may stand for different ideals than I do, but he is a soldier. I could see it in his eyes."
"And... Yes, to the question you didn't ask. I will go see Greta, now that she has spoken with her kin, to determine what her role in this might be. Speaking with Prvan has opened my eyes some. Perhaps they would be an ideal escort through the trees once the Iron Guard breaks through the Winter Guard's line. I will go see her, and see if it can be done."
Ishbaad tries to remain stoic, passive, but he can't help flashing a grin to Jorvik. They both know combat strategies is not all that will be discussed.
|
|
"That great idea, Aoife. Me help you!" the snow goblins says to his friend. "But you no worry about no favor."
He turns to his mother, and says, "Momma, you no need no favor from Aoife. She Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's friend, and me great goblin hero! She great Longshanks hero, even though she not very tall... you trust me on that. Me gonna make everyone know Frostfur goblins is number one... because Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight gonna be number one goblin in world!
"Me already take care of stupid Back Alley Boyz. Me get them all killed by dragon, and take out Ratcrunch gang with them. Me very smart, so smart even my momma not know how much. Coramus teach me lots, and I learned more from other friends."
He looks around the room in disgust, though there is a little affection in his eyes over the young ones. "So, momma, this is how it goes. You get you fat ass up off couch and clean up in here. If you wanna hire servant, you go ahead. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight will pay for dat. But servant girl gotta come to Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight to get paid... 'cause me no think me can trust you.
"You make yourself Starseer again, and start looking for your portents. But maybe you also look for Milanni. Maybe She and me will lead Frostfur goblins to be most powerful clan in all Golarian. But you gotta act like the momma of a hero! Not just Big fat baby momma. You better than this! You know Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight not just ordinary gobbo. That why you gimme such good name.
"Mebbe me earn a new name, too. But we see when dat happens. Until then, you momma of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, gobbo hero. Me be so good that even Longshanks call me hero!"
He has himself all worked up into a fervor, when the ring on his hand catches his eye. A tear trickles down, as he realizes again how vulnerable he is. "Please, momma. Be what you were again. You was a wise woman, and all Frostfur respect you, even when you name me like no other gobbo. Me love you, and want you to be happy!"
He turns to the kids, and orders, "You listen to our momma. She gonna make you smart and strong. You pick up after yourselfs, and find treasures that you make into wonderful things. If you be smart and good, me teach you to make booms that no one will believe! If not, me think you just die on street like Back Ally Boyz and Ratcrunch gang. Me no think you want that."
After his momma agrees with him, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight asks Aoife to help him and his momma pick up the place. While they are doing that, he asks, "Momma, do you know where the Frostfur goblins are? Can you send word that Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is back, and they are strong again?"
With his friend in tow, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight goes around the market asking about the Ratcrunch gang, and the Back Alley Boyz. He lets it be known that he would like to talk to them, that he is forming a new, more powerful gang, one that will take over the goblin districts. He tells the goblins he sees that he has big plans and will be making a big score. If they want in, they have to meet him at , at midnight!
"You done took care of them Back Alley Boyz? And them Rat Crunchers? All by your own self?" Starseer's eyes narrow as she tries to catch her son in a lie and then widen as she realizes he's telling the truth, "Welcome home boy! It's so good to have you back here. No longshanks gonna take you away this time. You want the place clean? You got it. You want the Frostfurs, easy as pie. We all live here now, and we know who we are. Dependin' on how many you took out, we gonna outnumber them Back Alley Boyz now."
Momma is so proud, she even overlooks the 'fat ass' comment, but she scowls when her son says he can't trust her. Well, I guess he can't, she shrugs. Starseer hoists her considerable bulk up and gets to her feet, looking quite unsteady for a while. She then, slowly, begins to pick up the food scraps. With Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlights new brothers re-messing up the place, though, her progress is nigh nonexistent. They completely ignore Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlights requests to clean - like good little goblins.
Just then, as if by providence, Starseer's old pet rat... looking battered, worn and incredibly chewed appears. She looks at its eyes and smiles. With quick chant and a wave of her hand, a small area in the corner of the room begins to shine and sparkle. She keeps her hand pointed and begins to move it all about. Patches of cleanliness appear all over... and she continues until the room is completely clean, with help from the two heroes in rearranging the larger objects.
"That's better," she says, "Fluffy's back. He musta seen you outside and followed you. All is right again, child, all is right."
Aoife notices that Starseer cleans the bones with her spell, but they strangely remain scattered on the floor. He guesses she must have some purpose in mind for them.
"I'll get word to the Frostfurs," she says, "Most don't remember you too well, and you weren't no fire-hurler when you done left us... but they remember me... and I'll make them remember you!" Excitement and a little magical energy crackle behind the incredibly obese goblin's eyes.
"What you plannin', boy?"
Some goblins look suspiciously wary, others jump at the opportunity to follow a new leader after the deaths of their old ones. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight suspects the level of willingness to follow is inversely proportional to their expected likelihood of replacing said old leaders. Still, all agree to meet at the ice sculpture park, in front of the ice statue of General Howling Fiercely at the Wind, snow goblin hero.
"Back so soon?" Greta asks, leaning comfortably against the threshold - not yet inviting Ishbaad in, "I've made good progress getting the wolves on our side. I hadn't heard that Logrivich was dead, however." The wolf in woman's clothing smiles wickedly at Ishbaad, suspecting she knew exactly why Ishbaad was here. Well, she is partially correct, isn't she?
A chill wind blows, causing Ishbaad to shiver involuntarily. A playful look crosses Greta's eyes as she continues to not invite her oread lover inside.
"I am so sorry, Sergei..." Kuragin shakes his head, torn inside. Why is he doubting his old friend? Do the words of the Jadwiga prince have so much weight.
"I made it." the witch continues, suddenly. "I made it through the portal, to Taldor. Oh, all the wonders I saw! I could spend hours just talking about it."
"I wish you could have seen it, too."
"We both wish that!" Sergei exclaims, longing clearly evident in his eyes, "Tell me all about it."
When Kuragin is done describing the details - and the fashions - of the southern lands, Sergei sighs at the opportunities denied to him. "What on Golarion brings you back here, Kuragin? Why are you back in Whitethrone when the last time we corresponded, they wanted you imprisoned or dead? Did you come back... for me?"
Ishbaad catches himself before he begins to pout about Greta not simply letting him in.
"When we spoke the first time, there was much that was assumed. I'm merely here to let you know that we have the support of the Iron Guard, once Logrivich is dead. They will be breaking through the line around the forest to allow us past."
Ishbaad finally begins to relax a bit, playing along with the coy game she is running.
"I need to know what you and the wolves intend to do. The forest is filled with fey defending the hut. I can't be sure they will recognize us as allies, and so a pack of winter wolfs leading the charge through the woods would be... Well would almost assuredly garauntee us to reach the hut in one piece."
Ishbaad finally relaxes enough to step closer to the woman, breaking into her personal space, but not quite making contact, before leaning against the door frame himself.
"I am curious, what did your kin say when you brought it up?"
"You got the Iron Guard on your side?" Greta looks genuinely impressed. So much so that she steps back to allow Ishbaad in and out of the cold.
"What we wolves intend to do?" she looks over at Ishbaad, only slightly peeved, "You were the one who said you had a plan. If your plan is to have us tear the throats out of some fresh-from-the-First-World fey, then that will suit us just fine. After that, if the Iron Guard is on our side, keep the f#%@ing Jadwiga Elvanna either holed up in the Palace or out of Whitethrone - or both - until you get back with the Mother of All Witches." She says the last as though it were matter-of-fact and not at all the monumental task it actually was.
"My kin have a pact with the Winter Witches - with all of them - that supersedes anything we may or may not have promised Queen Elvanna," Greta explains, "Whatever their individual feelings are, we are honor-bound to fulfil our oaths to Baba Yaga first... and they will follow. They will not commit suicide, but if Logrivich is dead you will have proven both that your quest is just, and that you have the strength needed to prevail.
"I assume," she says easily, "You will have needed to provide similar assurances to the Iron Guard as well. So it will be with any allies you have. The populace fears Elvanna as much as any powerful White Witch - but they fear Logrivich more. Not that I think he is more powerful... but he does not need to rule. He can act more freely, and more capriciously. I never thought I'd imagine that were possible... more capricious than the Queen of Irrisen."
Greta leads Ishbaad to the soft item of furniture at the far side of the room. "Now, weary diplomat," she begins, "What was that you said about a 'quickie'?"
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Oh, me have BIG plans! Kids! Stop that! Don't make me melt your flesh into goo!" He snatches the clod of... dirt... out of the air, and nails the older of the toddlers square in the face. "Respect your momma, or I will give you to Logrivitch for lunch!" Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight hopes this will be enough to calm the two down.
"Me cannot talk about it yet, but me will need all of the Frostfurs that we can get to make it happen. We gonna be great, soon, and we no need to listen to the lies of the Longshanks, or of anyone else. Me gonna be a hero!"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight looks at he disappointing number of goblins that showed up. He had hoped more had survived, because he needed them. But, first, he could tell he had to make an example of one of them. Having Aoife by his side helped his courage, because he knew that if they all rushed him, he would have a problem surviving.
"You no more a Ratcruncher or a Back Alley Boyz. You now mine. Howling Fiercely at the Wind was a great goblin hero. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight IS a great goblin hero. You know that, or you not be here. That why I come here." He notices a look of fury in a couple of the more ambitious of the goblins. He nods his head towards Aoife, and then at the two that he is concerned about.
The little girl squeezes her hands into fists inside of her huge gauntlets. She knew that what her friend was about to do would be almost as risky as what she did in the tower, but he seemed confident that he could pull it off. So, she stood there, quietly, ready to defend him in an instance.
The snow goblin looks confident in his chances, but wishes he had been able to learn the targeted bomb admixture, but he just didn't have enough time. But, a little collateral damage would be ok, but only if they didn't attract the attention of Logrivitch. "You here now, so you must be very brave or very stupid. Brave if you wanna follow your great new leader, General Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. Stupid, if you think you can become leader over him!" He looks again to the two that are now clenching their fists, and grinding their teeth. He notices that one has a tattoo of the Back Alley Boyz on the left side of his face. That one would be his target.
"So, who here is very stupid? Who challenge the leadership of General Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight? Who think they are stronger that the one that make Grindteeth prove he no smarter than a horse?"
With that, the one he had been glancing at roars in anger, draws his dogslicer, and charges. Without a thought, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight flings the bomb that he had been holding in his hand, at just the last second, allowing both himself and Aiofe to be engulfed in flames, as well as his target. The former Back Alley Boy was able to take advantage of the opening that Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight left him, nearly opening up the little goblin hero's throat as he stood his ground and chucked the bomb. BOOM! The area was lit up in flame, and when the flames recede, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight still has the other goblin's dogslicer stuck in his shoulder, blood slowly dripping out of the wound. Of the other goblin, not much was left... his bomb left not much more than a still smouldering corpse, but no flames appeared to have touched either the "general" or his bodyguard. IT was clear that the little goblin had a plan when he kept the others at least 10' away from him, now.
"Howie Doughhead was an IDIOT! Just 'cause his brother died when the Back Street Boyz attacked the Ratcrunchers, didn't mean he couldn't work with me, but now he dead. He no help out Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight make goblins POWERFUL." He pauses for a moment, just for effect.
"Who with me?! Who want to see greatness?!"
The child looks at the gathered goblin masses and then turns to see the sickening remains of the small, smoldering corpse. She pats her arms, one after the others, with the colossal leather gauntlets, and keeps a menacing look etch on her face. If her countenance is in fact scary, stern, or menacing, she is unsure, but it may very well be that the look she give is quite the opposite, falling more along the lines of comical.
As the echoes of the bomb recede in the distance, repeating and loosing oomph in slow but steady gradations, the child looks up to the sky for the soaring form of Logrivich to appear as a blotch against the pale clouds of the horizon.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight is a great goblin warrior," she calls those gathered. "Rise with him and be great yourself!"
"There is much mischief to be had! There is much to be burned! There is much fire to spread!" her voice rising as her tempo quickens.
"There is much fun to be had!"
The crowd looks on, stunned into silence by the sudden and violent death of Howie Doughhead. None of the assembled can recall if that was his name or not, so shocked are they by the blast. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight speech gets them thinking, Aoife's speech gets them howling and screaming.
"New General!" one yells.
"Burning!" another agrees with Aoife.
"Fire!" joins in a very excitable goblin, still admiring the lingering effects of the bomb.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight!" dozens chant, again and again.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Later that night, after stirring into existence a possibly doomed goblin rebellion, the child returned to their hideout. In a corner with none in sight, or nearby to bother her, Aoife once more pulled free Tighearnán's journal. Her eyes looked over the cover while one hand rested warmly on the bound pages. The child's hand even quivered, seeming to hold the book in such a gentle, tender grasp that it was as if she were holding another's hand.
Mother hurt him so, she thinks, pausing to rub her eyes roughly with a forearm. He never talked about her and avoided my every mention of her name... but now I understand why. She deserved to be forgotten.
I'm sorry I would not let you forget her, father. I am truly sorry I reminded you of her.
Aoife cannot help but think of how terrible her mother had been, to willingly leave her own one year old daughter to die in the snow. She also could not keep away the thought that her father had to be reminded of this terrible woman every time he looked upon his own daughter. Aoife realized, with a revelation that surprised even her, that she was glad to not remember her own mother's face. It was true she had once found a picture of her mother in the attic, tucked away and hidden, but at least Aoife could not remember looking upon the flesh of a woman so vile. She tried in vain to draw comfort form this thought.
There was hint of blasphemy hiding behind her own brutal thoughts about her mother, as if deep down Aoife didn't believe her own outlandish justifications for hating Nadezhda, and was in all actuality simply trying to reinforce her resolve and defenses against the fact she did, in fact, still miss her mother and was only trying to hide behind an easily built wall of anger.
The next morning, following General Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's revolutionary stirring of goblins' hearts and minds, Aoife walks from the secluded nook where she has been sleeping, tucked away in the shrine, and greets the others as if the anger and frustration of the day before (following her escapades in Logrivich's tower) have completely left her.
"Good morning," she says, half waving an arm to whichever of her friends are gathered. Her hair is tangled mess, standing at odd angles and matted down in others spots. Her face also looks very tired as if she barely slept at all. Strangely, there is a relieved quality to her voice as if a burden has been lifted, allowing the child to find a bit of peace normally abscent from her in this frozen land of the north.
"Is there anything to eat," she asks quite cheerily, stretching her arms out and scrunching half her face while yawning. "I'm starving."
As her hands reach out and stretch away the deadweight of clinging tiredness, it can be easily be seen that her hands are stains a blood red hue. It is clearly paint coating her hands, almost up to her elbows, and flecks of scarlet dot and dabble her clothes in many place, as well. It is then that remains of red can also be seen dotting under her chin, along her cheeks, and even splotched in places amidst her hair.
The child has clearly been madly painting away at something that has somehow cathartically relieved the her usual troubled and quiet nature.
"Good. Everything is in place now. All that is left is to slay Logrivich." Ishbaad says with a little too much excitement in his voice.
"Your city is about to see the most excitement it has seen since... well I'm not all that familiar with your history, but I am guessing this will be the most eventful changing of the queens in centuries. Look for fireworks at the top of the clocktower. When you see those, you will know that the dragon is dead. We will shelter with the Iron Guard to lick our wounds after that until the next day, when we plan to assault the forest. I will find a way to find you after that, before we leave."
"Now as for the quickie, it really all depends on how quickly I find that one spot we discovered last night..."
Shortly after the heroes trickle in after returning from their errands, Ringeirr and Solveig also return from theirs.
"Well, that didn't go as well as I would have liked," says a sour-faced Ringeirr.
"It could have gone much worse, and remember the supplies," Solveig tries to maintain her optimism.
"So, the short of it," Ringeirr addresses the adventurers, "Is that the Heralds of Summer's Return will not be lending any kind of substantial aid to your cause. They have already provided you with as much equipment as they are likely to, and they are not willing to commit bodies to the cause - or even ask the other cells to join in."
"Part of it is worry," Solveig explains, "But they also do not seem to care so much about what happens in the Southern lands regarding those portals, and they cannot be convinced to see much difference between Elvanna and a new Queen. Many think that, with Baba Yaga trapped, there is more hope that things might get better.
"In any case, there is enough doubt that they have elected to use whatever happens on your way to the Hut and in the wake of said events to better the lives of those in Whitethrone and beyond. The civil unrest will be a good opportunity for them to change the lives of the downtrodden for the better."
Ringeirr snorts in derision, "It has ever been the way of the Heralds. Inaction. Caution. Timidity. Now, now when there is a hope to actually do something - something that matters - they would rather hide. I do not know who Baba Yaga will bring to the throne, but Elvanna is already the worst queen in Irrisen's history, and she cannot be allowed to bring her evil to the rest of the world. I wish my fellows could see that.
"I am sorry," he says to everyone assembled, "I am sorry on behalf of my whole organization. I had hoped to bring you more. I can only hope what we have already given has been enough to tip the scales of fate in your favor... and offer my own blade to your quest. I will do whatever you need me to do - even enter the Hut with you and rescue Baba Yaga, if that is what you need."
"I thought you were in Oppara. So, no. I didn't come back for you. Had I known you were still here and in trouble..." Kuragin shrugs, his voice fading away into his own thoughts. Would he have returned for Sergei? Taking so many risks to get to the portal in the first place. And once he got where he always wanted, turn back and leave all that. Take even greater risks. Isn't this precisely what he is doing right now? For people he didn't even know. To overthrow the Queen herself, wearing the mantle of the black rider!
Kuragin fights to avoid a mad, frustrated laughter from escaping. He pretends a cough and moves a hand to cover his mouth, and tries to get rid of these thoughts.
"The portals. They spread the winds of winter. All that was warm and green, will soon be covered in ice and snow. That is why I returned. The portals must be closed, somehow. Any ideas how to do that? You were always full of clever ideas, Sergei." It's not a lie. Not exactly. Just absence of some details. But since he cannot be sure to trust Sergei, best to avoid the full truth.
----
"It is understandable," Kuragin remarks with a slightly poisonous tone. "rebellions have brought nothing but bloodshed and the inevitable defeat of the rebels. Perhaps that is why the Heralds have survived as long as they have - they do not act. Hiding and dreaming of better times will give one a longer life to live."
But why I am here? It was madness from the beginning, and they are talking about fighting a dragon!
"But... we are grateful for the supplies." And this time Kuragin speaks earnestly.
Sergei does not seem too upset that Kuragin was not back here for him. He just nods matter-of-factly.
"Portals that bring the Winter of Irrisen to other lands?" Sergei looks more impressed than disturbed, "Well, I can certainly see how that might be an issue for the Southrons. There's always a way to disrupt such magic. It's just a matter of finding the right way to disturb the ritual. Something that powerful is bound to have wards. Have you seen one of the ritual chambers powering the portals?"
"We act," Ringeirr counters, somehow still defending the Heralds after all he said, "We just do not do so openly. At least, not often. You know better than most what happens then, Ja-... Kuragin. However, this time, I feel that working in the background is not the best course. I just wish my fellows agreed. Still, we will ensure that some good comes of this."
Ringeirr treats Solveig to another doubtful look and yields the floor once more to the companions.
"Do not be disappointed, Ringeirr. I admire your mission on purpose. If your organization were to come out of the gingerbread now, to fight for this cause, you would only expose yourself unnecessarily to inquisition by the Iron Guard and by Baba Yaga herself when Elvanna is overthrown. No, your cause and purpose is beyond this. The Heralds are meant to bring summer back to Irrisen, not the Queen of Witches. While this helps your immediate goal of easing the suffering of your people, it only risks your long term goal of freeing them from their bonds by coming out to fight actively."
Ishbaad places a hand on the man's shoulder. "I respect and admire your willingness to fight. But now is not the time, my friend. Thank you for the supplies you have given us. Without them, we might not have much of a chance of success. With them, I believe the battle tilts in our favor."
"The Herald's of Summer's Return have survived for a long time in this place," Aoife says to Ringeirr and Solveig, at last opening her mouth to add another voice to the discussion. "We cannot hope to know more about the perils of surviving in this place then they. We cannot hope to know more about the dangers of acting in open rebellion then they."
"They have survived for so long, and will probably continue to survive," the child says, and although her words are kindly directed to the Herald's, her tone is filled with that of disappointment. "They have made their choice to not act, instead choosing to aid where little they can."
"If you think it would help, I would gladly speak to them... To whomever may listen... about the perils of inaction,"Aoife pauses and rub her face with a hand stained with dark, blood red paint. "Though I don't think they would listen to a child..."
Aoife thinks for a moment about sneaking into the tower, and if it truly were a foolish endeavor. She also looks down at her open palm, observes the marred, red skin, and thinks of the irony of what it represents.
|
|
"Me no wanna sacrifice no one who not wanna be hero. But, that don't mean me no wanna sacrifice pig-face goblins who kill and run out my friends, the Frostfur goblins." He looks a little menacing when he says that.
"Aoife help me rally many goblins, remainder from clans that Logrivitch kill. Me think me will inspire them to create distraction ... me will be specific in that distraction next time ... and then any gobbo that survive, they can become Frostfur. Me may not be great hero, but me great goblin hero... and now me goblin general!" He looks very proud of himself when he says that.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The following day, the companions leave the Shrine of the Everbloom to do some shopping for the dragon slaying expedition. There is a massive crowd gathered outside the enormous Frosthall Theater. Shocked onlookers whisper amongst themselves as they evidently discuss a scandal of some kind.
"Who would have dared?"
"Surely, this must be the work of the Heralds..."
"I think not! Baba Yaga sympathizers no doubt!"
"How did they get it up there?"
"The Queen will be furious!"
"Shouldn't someone clean it off?"
The companions look upwards and see the cause of the crowd's distress. Scrawled in red painted massive letters on the main entrance to the theater is the following phrase:
Ishbaad plods forward, pulling on a wooden cart heavily laden with all manner of gear, armor and weapons, neatly tucked, packed and covered to prevent curious eyes from seeing the veritable treasure trove inside.
He stops for a moment, glad to give his legs and shoulders a break from the heavy work. He dusts off his hands then places them on his hips, arching his back to give it a good stretch while simultaneously looking up at the graffiti painted on the walls of the magnificent hall.
"Interesting..." he muses, trying, and succeeding to hide his approval of the foreboding message. It wouldn't do to have anyone assuming he thought this was funny. At least not yet.
He leans over to Jorvik and Kuragin, but whispers loud enough for all of his companions to hear, "You think the Stilyagi could have done something like this? Clever. A little paranoia in the ruling family could go a long ways, especially once we slay this dragon."
He looks at his friends, his eyes falling to each of them, until they finally fall on his charge.
With a smirk, he makes eye contact with her. He flashes a smile, looking down at her gloves, then her, then her gloves again, then finally her backpack.
Unfortunately, he only manages to make himself look strange, like a snowflake or piece of ice is caught in his eye.
Not sure how she got that journal back. I need to see it. I thought I got rid of the evidence in Tighearnán’s journal. Well, the one he submitted to the Pathfinder Society. Had I known he had a second, personal journal…
Ishbaad stands on a pedestal in the bowels of the Shrine of the Everbloom. The shopping was complete. The materials and precious, valuable packages all gathered and smuggled into this hidden den of light in a city of darkened hearts. The irony of it all was not lost on the Oread Inquisitor. Scurrying around him were a couple of young acolytes, busily strapping the pieces of magnificent full plate armor to his body.
The golden-hued, interlocking plates that covered his arms and shoulders reflected and focused the dancing light from the torches in the room. Ishbaad’s arms were held straight out from the shoulder on both sides as each of his assistants lifted the locking backplate and breastplate, fitting it into their place on his massive, barrel chest.
There is no official record of Nadezhda in the Pathfinder journal. I was able to make sure of that when I intercepted the courier on his way to Absalom. All this time though, the truth has lingered.
Ishbaad is snapped out of his reverie when the assistant shouts his name for apparently the fourth time, asking him to lift his left leg up in order to step into the gleaming greaves.
No doubt she has already read of Nadezhda’s abandonment of her. The poor child, dealing with the loss of her father and the news that her mother abandoned her. What hate and bitterness is she harboring in her heart now? And what if she finds…
Once again Ishbaad is pulled sharply from his thoughts. His heart is racing, he hadn’t even realized he was getting so worked up. He lifts his right leg, sliding into the matching greave that will protect his feet from blade and claw. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he dismisses the thoughts and worries, focusing on the monumental task in front of him and his friends.
Finally, the leg plates are snapped and strapped into place. ”Tighter. There, by the knee. And re-strap this breastplate on my chest. I can’t have it sagging loose while trying to dodge the teeth of Logrivich,” he instructs, neither harsh nor kind, simply matter of fact. Ishbaad looks down at the moulded breastplate and at the intricate engraving. Defensor Iustitiae it reads. Defender of Justice.
With reverence he takes the gigantic greatsword that was crafted for him by the same man. A northman, a hunter, just like Jorvik. Some beast of the wild had taken his leg many years ago, and so he was shackled without chains to the city, no longer able to roam the wilds. The one-legged man forged his passion into blacksmithing, and was truly a master.
Sanctus Custos his mighty weapon read, carved along the blade, highlighted with runes and other symbols. Holy Guardian. Not quite a paladin. No, he was far to broken for that. Paladins defended the weak, the unable, the faithful victims. Not Ishbaad. He guarded his tenants with brutal offensive force. He was a rock that the tyrants would crash and break against.
Except this rock didn’t wait for the waves to come to him.
With determination, Ishbaad slams the mighty weapon into the sheath strapped to his back. He pulls the winter guard uniform on, cinching his crossed bandoliers tight, a myriad of potions, vials, and scrolls snapped tightly in their places. Affero Iustitia, Justice Bringer, his silvered lucern hammer is strapped crossed against the greatsword sheath on his back as well. Everything perfectly arranged in the order he would need them for this fight. He steps off the raised dais, bedecked like a mythic warrior of old, a walking armory befitting a mighty king.
”I am ready.”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Aoife looks up to the wall strewn with dark red splotches forming the ungraceful arcs of massive letters. The child cannot help but cast a smile in the direction of the message, emblazoned proudly on the theater's entrance, as the scarlet letters seem to beam back at her with mischievous satisfaction.
Turning now, she sees her guardian looking strangely at her which causes Aoife to narrow her eyes in a nonverbal and confused reply...
With a start, her eyes widen and she then takes a moment to stuff her gloves into her pack and bury one hand in the deep pocket of her heavy, winter coat. Her free hand takes a moment to wind the long scarf around her face which covers much of her skin, though her eyes continues to gaze up at the wall with hint of enjoyment.
"I wonder who could have done that," she mumbles awkwardly. "It must have been a giant or something, to reach that high..."
"Well, I guess it is a theater," she adds, trying to hide a sarcastic tone. "Perhaps it's the title of a new play..."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Hey, everyone!" yells a voice from a nearby street corner, "There's another one!"
The crowd rushes after the man, an Ulfen peasant from the look of him, and eventually they come to the enormous ice bridge that crosses over Glacier Lake to the Royal Palace. At the beginning of the 1,000 foot long ice bridge is a large pair of iron gates with an ice-block archway.
Scrawled on the archway, in the same hand as before, is a massive red message.
"See, I told you it was agents of Baba Yaga!"
"But who?"
"The Winter Guard is coming!"
"Let's get out of here!"
"Better not let them think it was us."
As a cluster of trolls on the bridge marches toward the crowd from the direction of the Royal Palace, the onlookers rapidly disperse. Seconds later, in the far distance, the roar of a mighty beast can be heard. It is followed shortly after by the sounds of the rending of stone. It doesn't take the companions long to discover that the noise was coming from Logrivich's tower and the dragon is none too pleased. In his anger, he froze the first people who dared to approach his tower with a single breath. No-one is yet reporting what was written there, but the dragon did indeed find some writing.
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Seeing the graffiti spread across the town, Jorvik smirks. Hmm, who could have done this?
"Well friends, change is in the air. I can feel it. Let us be the instrument of change."
Watching the mighty Logrivich descend upon the crowd, Jorvik, along with his companions feels that discretion is the better part of valor in this case and is more than happy to scamper with the rest of the crowd to safety.
The dripping wax from the burning candle puddles on the wodden desk. The candle, which started a good 12-inches high, was now barely taller than two fingers breathe. The scratch of quill as it dances across the page, the steady rhythm of 'scritch' and 'scratch' creates a soothing tune.
Once again I find myself with this unlikely group of heroes. The stoic oread has broken down his boundaries, found love, and will ride one of the largest elk I have ever seen. The goblin, once untrusted, has become a leader of his kind. My old friend, now a winter witch proper, begins to allow others into his heart. And the child. She has faced the most fearsome foe, the one in her heart. She will always struggle against the unconquerable foe of loss. The 'if only', the 'never again' will fight her always.
Jorvik pauses, and rubs his blood-shot eyes. The faint aura of predawn light is slowly overtaking the blue-black blanket of nighttime darkness. He goes over the mental list of gear once again. He goes over the plan, the possibilities, once again.
Dipping the quill in the inkpot, tapping the sharpened tip on the rim, and writing in bold, clear strokes, the bloodspeaker continues.
Tomorrow we will be in the fight of our lives. We strive to slay the dragon, Logrivich. His breath, death. His claws like daggers. His teeth like scimitars. I fear this is a foe to challenging to beat. Yet my life, what is left, may well be forfeit. I freely give it, I will lay it down for my friends. Should I not return, know that I have no regrets. No remorse. I can think of no more noble cause.
Tired and wired, sleepy and anxious, he knew his time was short.
Father if you are reading this, I forgive you. I know not why you never sought me out, why you never thought to meet. Why you left me to live this life all my years. Do I look like you? Do I talk like you? Would you be proud? I think that you gifted me Heafoc, and for that I say thank you. Perhaps one day, in what lies ahead, our paths might yet cross.
Spreading sand across the parchment, he blows the ink dry and places it in his oiled satchel that contains all his written accounts of their adventures. He lays it down next to the sleeping forms of Solveig and her love.
He exits the shrine, and picks up an oiled rag. Sitting on the steps, he gently rubs his newly enchanted bow until he can almost see his reflection.
Heafoc streaks down from the sky and begins to peck at the pouch hanging from his belt. Laughing carelessly, he tosses the majestic falcon a dead snow shrew. "Not too much, you have a dragon to eat my friend."