More guardians. This one shall fall like all the ...
The woody sprite emerges from nowhere to ravage through Jorvik's armor. Teaching through the magical mithril, Jorvik howls in pains before twisting to avoid the spray of sharpened stakes flying towards him.
I hate these creatures!
"Heafoc!!" Jorvik cries before biting his lip and emitting a whistle after Kuragin unleashes his sonic blast.
Heafoc climbs in the air, circling before dipping a wing and rocketing towards the twigjack.
Jorvik, in perfect concert, hefts Frostreaver before swinging in an arc to shatter the fey as his falcon tears into it.
Striking at the same time as her master, the falcon tries to bite down on the fey.
The twigjack cries out as chunks of wood are smashed and torn from its body as both Jorvik and Heafoc land their blows. It still stands, however and its little pin-prick eyes glower at Jorvik, promising death.
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The words of the fey ring in his hears, but the accusations about the sacred instrument ring hollow. The magic still seeps into Ishbaad’s mind however, and he is not strong enough to fight it off. The oread buckles over in the saddle, reality and memories blending together like a man caught between sleep and consciousness, when dreams feel more vibrant than reality itself.
Ishbaad finds himself standing in a familiar room. A white towel is in his hands, having just finished its work of wiping the blood from his knuckles.
”Before I brought you in here, I told you that I would take however long I needed to get you to tell the truth. Days, if necessary.” Ishbaad says to the man tied to the chair as he tosses the towel across the room into the corner. He deliberately, slowly walks over to a well worn, already packed backpack, picks it up and slings it over his shoulder, then turns back to the man on the chair. ”The situation has just changed. You now have five minutes.”
Hefting the pack to rest on his shoulders comfortably, Ishbaad reaches up and pulls a military issue longspear from its place on the wall, and a small assortment of other weapons, strapping each but the longspear into its place.
The man, who was blubbering and whining only moments before, changes his demeanor in an instant. The pathetic face is gone, replaced with a wry grin, and a sadistic laugh. ”Hah, haha! You are as dense as the stone you are cut from, Ishbaad. You simply don’t get it do you? What is the truth? It’s all a matter of perspective. Of course I killed Jewel, but you already knew that. When will you accept that I don’t owe you anything. In fact, YOU owe ME! Hahaha! How else were you ever going to get what you wanted? Or should I say, WHO you wanted…”
The man’s words are cut off instantly as Ishbaad plunges his spear straight through his throat, the deadly tip jutting through the back with such force that it embeds deep into the wood framing of the tiny house. Wide eyes, filled with shock stare back at Ishbaad. Eyes wreathed in purplish bruises and trickles of blood from the beatings sustained. Oily, long hair clings to the doomed man’s forehead. A slight wheeze is all that can be heard as the man’s last breath leaks from his lungs. "Five minutes is up..." Ishbaad says through clenched teeth, his eyes red with rage.
Sobbing into Onyx's neck, tears and snot blend as the emotion flows from the Oread, unabated by his normally stoic facade. It was my fault… It was all my fault… I know the horror of my transgression… I despair…
The twigjack once again opens its mouth wide to spray the group.
Onyx once again takes the full force of the blast , but the others manage to avoid the worst of it . Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight avoids the spray entirely, having moved to a more advantageous spot.
Zephimere runs along the branches, her flaming hair mingling with the fire on her clothing and jumps down near Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight.
With a flourish, she reels off a melody with her pipes and then quickly starts a counter melody. The resulting sound is an off-putting and incredibly loud series of dissonant chords that strike the companions nearby with physical force.
The fire on her body continues to burn.
A rage burns in Ishbaads eyes as he snaps out of the magically induced grief. A rage he hasn't felt since...
Underneath him, the dissonance of the song breaks the spirit of the animal beneath him. Onyx collapses, unconcious from the repeated blows. Unready for the movement, Ishbaad twists his body to keep from landing on his side.
[dice=Ride check to "soft fall" DC 15]1d20+5[/dice]
"You shall suffer my wrath! I am Dawn Piper Bane!" He yells, blocking out the painful memories with his anger. It is no longer a spear in his hands, but instead a giant blade. Still, he looks to repeat what he did so many nights ago.
Shaking the snow off of his face, Ishbaad stands up from where he fell, greatsword gripped tightly in both hands.
"Who needs to cut the instrument when you can destroy the musician!" Ishbaad barks, setting his feet underneath him to advance.
I'm coming Onyx... But if I don't kill her first, I won't be able to save you...
The dawn piper looks over at Ishbaad, worry clearly etched upon her face. She apparently is now doubting her decision to join the twigjack on the ground.
Remembering his failures at the farm, Jorvik eyes the twigkack intently so he is prepared when it once again spews forth is woody spray. This time leaping up, he avoids most of the spray before landing lightly on the ground, Frostreaver at the ready. In one smooth motion he swings.
om a hit.
Jorvik smashes the twigjack again with a mighty blow from Frostreaver, shattering it in a spray of wood that lies on the ground like a small pile of twigs.
Heafoc flies over to harry the dawn piper, but she is already shaken up by Ishbaad and the bird's distraction doesn't distract her from her fear of the oread.
"Cursed fey..."
Cursed creature of the First World, resisting my magic. Fine... Let us see how you'll fare against my hexes
To anyone watching him, it would look like Kuragin is not doing anything, just standing still. Standing still and staring at the dawn piper. But the fey feels the full force of the witch's Evil eye - doubt of the battle's outcome creeping into her mind.
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Shaking his head at how this was all going, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight slowly grabs pulls out an alchemists' fire. "Really, me no wanna hurt you, but you leave me no choice. Me think you very pretty, but you very nasty. So me think you just gotta burn. Me sorry."
He lobs the alchemists fire at the fey, still shaking his head.
Zephimere, the dawn piper is beset by angry witch magic and bombs made of fire.
The twigjack known as Silverthorn quickly reassesses the situation and runs full-pelt into the brambles and disappears from sight.
"Coward!" yells Zephimere in a shaky voice, before drawing her pipes and blasting them.
There is no finesse this time, only fearful, discordant noise.
While the goblin manages to escape with only a little blood trickling down his ears , Ishbaad feels the full force of the blow , his ears ring as blood pours from them and he feels the unwholesome melody in his very bones. Suddenly, he realizes what this means and turns to see Onyx in the throes of a death spasm as the piper's blast liquifies the poor beast's organs.
Uncaring of the damage she has wrought, Zephimere rushes around the big tree in an effort to avoid the oread's wrath.
He was my redemption... My last connection to jewel... I don't understand...
The words, rage, and venom that builds in his heart are more than Ishbaad can handle at the moment, and so they stay in his chest. The din of the battle, the shouts, the escaping twigjack, everything but the dawn piper meld into the background, until there is nothing but he and her, in a black void.
He pumps his feet, unaware of how fast he is moving, for there is no reference of rushing past the tree. His legs move, though instead of propelling himself forward, it feels as though each step draws her closer to him.
He does not care about the shock on her face that he could reach her when every natural and magical law that governs existence says he shouldn't be able to. He does not care about the fear in her eyes as she sees her doom approaching.
No words need be spoken, for death is in the Oread's wake. With one more step he reels his target in close, then brings sanctus custos down in a mighty chop, fully expecting to split the fey in two.
for
Seeing the magnificent beast fall lifeless to the ground, Jorvik's heart breaks. Though Ishbaad had not had time to form the relationship with Onyx that he had with Heafoc, Jorvik knew loss, he knew pain, he knew the heartbreak to see an animal that you loved die.
Revenge
Dropping Frostreaver to the ground, Jorvik pulls Heartseeker from his back and lines up at shot with one smooth pull.
Inhaling deeply to steady his nerves, and check his emotions, he feels the waxed sinew cold against his cheek. Seeing the flame haired piper dead ahead, he exhales and loosens the string while hyper-extending his other arm in an attempt to remain motionless.
He watches the fletched arrow zip through the frigid northern air.
Heafoc lashes out with beak and claw, hoping to rend the pipers face into shredded meat.
Jorvik's arrow streaks past Ishbaad's ear and strikes Zephimere in the chest. She snaps the arrow off and shrieks. Her voice mingles with Heafoc's as the falcon dives down to tear at her fiery hair. She is mostly unharmed by the bird's talons, her assailants require cold iron to fully penetrate her skin. Ishbaad obliges.
Sanctus Custos carves down in an impossibly fast arc. Zephimere barely has time to register her doom before the blade enters her shoulder. It cleaves through her collarbone and passes through all of her ribs, slides along her spine before finally coming to rest wedged in her hip bone. Blood erupts from her cloven body and covers everything in the clearing.
The scene is so gruesome that the heroes barely register that all of the floating leaves and snow return to the ground. The wind that lifted them up has disappeared.
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The adrenaline of battle over, Jorvik once again feels the weight of everything. The air. The cold. His feet. All are too heavy, or he is too weak. The loss. The blood. The killing. Never could he have imagined that day with the Black Rider that this would be his fate. Liberator? Ha. Butcher is closer to the mark.
Heafoc spirals overhead as Jovrik walks solemnly to his friend, and places a hand on his shoulder. "Onyx is not Jewel. Jewel is not Onyx."
Jorvik stares at the beast, so noble, so strong, laying lifeless in the snow. Life's blood crystallizing in the frigid northern air.
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart not alone,
She is at rest.
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
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Seeing yet another fey fall to the friends, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight turns back to the group. He sees Ishbaad and the others looking at the fallen elk, tears in their eyes. He wonders for a moment, and then decides not to say anything. He isn't sure how the longshanks would handle this death, so decides that he isn't going to express himself in typical goblin fashion.
Instead, he takes some time to make sure there is nothing of value on the bodies. If the Dawn Piper still has her pipes, he will pocket them for sure.
Ishbaad’s chest heaves as his vision blurs. Sight, sound and smells all blend in a dizzying kaleidoscope of stimulation that nearly brings him to his knees. Slowly, even for the normally slow mountain man, he trudges through the snow back to his fallen partner.
His memories flash into his vision, so seamlessly blended with the present that he cannot tell what is real and what is only in his mind. A flash of light and he can see Jewel, stroking the powerful neck of the megaloceros in the wheat fields of his past. Another flash, and he is back in the woods where it is dark, and Onyx lay motionless, as still as death itself. He drops to the ground, to sit next to the giant, magnificent animal. Their time together had been so brief, but the connection they made, and the lessons Ishbaad had learned were so strong. So fresh in his mind.
Another flash – Jewel is laughing her innocent laugh, seemingly not a care in the world. The giant elk in the field dips its head to nuzzle the gentle woman, and both turn back to look at Ishbaad. Flash again, back to the darkness. Except this time instead of Onyx bleeding out on the ground, it is Ishbaad himself.
I betrayed her. It was all my fault. She didn’t ask for any of this. You were supposed to be a symbol to me. A symbol of her forgiveness, to set me free from my grief and guilt. What does it mean now that you are gone?
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With a face as plain and stoic as the mountains, but with a mind and heart raging with emotions like a wild hurricane, Ishbaad reaches a stony hand out to the magnificent animals’ muzzle. You didn’t ask for any of this either, did you? When I found you, you were eating peacefully in a patch of summer, carved from this frozen and unforgiving land. Then I stole you for myself, brought you here. All of that, just to die? Would you have been better had I left you behind?
His hand doesn’t stroke the animal’s face, it merely rests there, seeking some vestige of the connection they had that can no longer be.
What does that make me?
”I don’t get it…” he says, looking up as Jorvik finishes his ballad. ”No… Not the song.” He corrects himself quickly, ”It’s just…” he pauses for several, very long moments, then clears his throat and stands up abruptly.
”We should keep moving. Time is short, and there are two more fonts left to turn off.”
He looks down at the blood smeared on his blade, his hands, and his armor. Fitting. Someday perhaps i will accept that I will never escape it. There will always be blood on me. On my hands. No matter how I hide how I feel... surely everyone else can see it too?
"I am sorry for the loss of your beast-friend." Kuragin says, more out of politeness than of real feeling. Animal is an animal - it served a purpose, and now is is dead. There is certain irony in the situation. Mere minutes ago the companions fought a dragon, and survived - only to start suffering casualties by a few pesky fey. Still, their losses are few so far, unless that girl has met her end somewhere in this forest.
"But you are right, we must continue. At least one dawn piper remains, by the water font. It would seem they can sense the loss of the other fonts. So I doubt we can surprise them. I used all my magical means for stealth in Logrivich's tower. Any plans on how to battle them?" Kuragin dusts off some snow from his garments, and waits for someone else to lead the way to the water font.
"Ishbaad, come. Tis time. The work is not done." speaking gently, Jorvik helps lead the grieving oread south to the final siphon.
"Kuragin, I plan on hitting them with Frostreaver until they are dead. Anyone have a better plan?"[/b]
Jorvik moves off knowing the challenges they are about to face, confident that he will kill them or die, knowing that is his path.
Ishbaad takes a deep, cleansing breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. It is unknowingly the only outward sign he gives to the storm of feelings raging inside him.
What could I have done differently?
He plants the tip of his greatsword into the ground beside him, then uses it as leverage to stand back up. The dawn piper blood that still has not dried on the blade leaves a small red stain in the snow beneath, while a few leaves and other detritus cling to the darkening mess that coats his armor.
"Yes, you are right. One more font. Not two. Let us finish this. Aoife is still in there somewhere."
As the group approaches the place they last saw the other two fey, Ishbaad offers a thought. "If those two are smart, they will have fled. We may have already lost our chance to kill them and cut off the source of energy to the vortex. If they are really smart, they will have cut it off voluntarily, and in process have saved their own lives."
...
"Of course, they may now rightly fear and respect our prowess, and so could be taking great pains to hide themselves, either to ambush us or wait us out."
Ishbaad walks over to Kuragin, who is holding the magical storage bag retrieved from the dragon's tower. He sticks his hand in, and with a thought, a potion appears. He hands it to the witch. "Invisibility, courtesy of granny nan."
Thinking in the back of his mind what the last dawn piper's biggest mistake was, he reaches his hand in again and summons the potion of spider climb that was recovered from the horde as well, and downs it in one gulp.
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The little goblin decides it is time to move on. He makes his way over to the southwest pushing his way through the trees, the pipes of the last dawn piper in his hand. "Me thing you no wanna fight, piper!" he sort of sings in Aklo, in his screechy goblin voice.
"Me make you great deal, but you gotta take it now. Me no kill you, and me longshank friends no kill you." he continues, still in Aklo. "You take pipes and turn of siphon. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight no burn you up in hot flames, or Jorvik cut you in half, of Uncle Ishbaad cut you in half, or Kuragin make you do something else.
"Understand? One chance... or we kill you. Me no care, but me tired of fighting when there no reason. Or no bad evils. Me not like killing pretty fey."
"Did you see Dawn Piper? Did you see the folly of your companions? We are no mere riff-raff traipsing through the forest. This is our destiny, and you have put yourself in our way. End your magic, release the energy of your water and allow the vortex to die, and you may live." Ishbaad bellows as he strides boldly into the clearing that contained the strange water pool.
"It is a paradox for you, no doubt. Allow that to die, which you likely associate with your own death, in order to live. Die to live. However the alternative is to choose the certainty of death at our hands. The choice rests on your shoulders."
Ishbaad grips his blade, ready for another fight. In the back of his mind he hears the sound of Onyx bleating and stamping his hooves, as if the memory of his mount is demanding attention.
He pushes it aside for now, hopeful that he can ignore its demands for attention while other things are more pressing.
Jorvik walks up behind Ishbaad. Thrusting his arm out, Heafoc takes to the skies in a majestic leap. Wings outstretched she turns lazily in the small clearing.
"Know we are serious. Know we have attempted to parley before. Know we have downed your kin and though it brings us no pleasure, we shall do the same again should you not relent and return to your natural place. For the North is ours. And I am here to reclaim it."
Hefting Heartseeker, Jorvik readies a cold-iron tipped arrow.
"My first thought was to kill you," Auraenos the dawn piper notes, "But I am inclined to believe your abilities more and more now. I am left with something of a problem, though. You see, I cannot perform the ritual to create a reality siphon and return to the First World on my own. I need at least one other of my kin, but my companions are now dead, so creating a new one is impossible. I can, however, maintain the existing siphon by keeping my elemental font active. This blocks your access to the hut."
Auraenos's face seems at war with itself as he struggles to compose a solution. A rustling in the bushes gives away the twigjack's position, as he comes out of hiding. "So, are we going to avenge Zephimere or not?" he asks impatiently.
"You say you are sick of the killing," Auraenos ignores the stick-like creature, "So... what do you suggest?"
Throughout it all Wortleby, his enlarged spriggan companion, stands impassively in the font.
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"Yeah, me think we no need to fight. Do you need another Dawn Piper, or just someone blowing on the pipes that you pipers use? We have one set of pipes, so maybe Boss Jorvik, who is magnificent musician, can help?
"Or, if that no work, maybe Boss Kuragin can do something. He very magical, and me can probably help, 'cause me know a LOT of things!"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight thinks a moment, "No, you no want to avenge Zephimere... would not be a good idea. You wanna go home, you let us help."
Ishbaad leans over to his three companions, not taking his eyes off of their potential enemies just yet.
"Do we have any idea where this hut is taking us? What if it takes us to the first world? They could just ride along. I'm not afraid of them, but I'd rather not take any unnecessary risks after... *ahem*" Ishbaad trails off, then clears his throat, not intending to continue the line of thought.
He waits a moment for confirmation that there is still much they have yet to learn about their eventual destination, then turns back to face the fey.
"We intend to use the hut to travel. We are not entirely sure where our destination is just yet, only that the Queen of Witches is who we seek. She is someone you are no doubt familiar with. Provided we can keep this truce, I would offer for you to travel with us. Perhaps we will end up in the first world, and you will have what you wish. Perhaps we will end up somewhere else entirely, and you will be no worse off than you are now. There is nothing that will stop us from doing what needs to be done to unshackle that hut, save our deaths." Ishbaad, not wanting to antagonize them unnecessarily, leaves out the part about how obviously difficult that will be for the fey trio.
"The twigjack speaks of revenge, but it was he who ran away and left Zephimere to die. You are wise to ignore his words." After his remark, Kuragin falls silent for a moment. He strokes his beard while his mind seeks solutions for Auraenos' problems.
"There is truth is truth in the goblins' words. This is not the first time I have participated in a ritual for magical means of travel, and I am quite confident I am able to help you. And if your magic comes music, Jorvik can provide that. Then, you can return, and we can proceed to the hut."
It's a fair offer. For the other option is that you share the fate of your kin.
"My companions speak wisely and truly. For I can produce music. Your choice first worlder. Know our patience is not eternal like the cold and snow of the North."
Jorvik remains transfixed on the piper.
Auraenos runs a hand through his hair. He is clearly nervous and more than a little agitated - after all, his plans are crashing down around him. "Maybe we can do the ritual... maybe we can," he muses, "But your companion's offer amuses me all the more. The tales of Baba Yaga's Dancing Hut are legion. All say that none can control the Hut but Baba Yaga - none may even enter without her permission. What makes you think that you are able to fulfill your promise? Please be explicit - I am trying to determine if you have some powers I am unaware of, if you are lying to me or if you are simply fools to believe you can harness the power of the Queen of Witches."
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"I sense no lies in what you say... but you still need a key to control her Hut," Auraenos, apparently, is quite well informed, "Show it to me and we have a deal."
"I will be blunt, I still do not fully comprehend the powers we hold, or just how we will control the hut. But I do know that before the original black rider fell, he bestowed upon us a portion of his power, and the key to get into the hut. In return, we have accepted his mantle, and mission, to bring Baba Yaga back to this world." Ishbaad neglects, purposefully, to mention that they have two keys.
"Whether or not we could have dispatched your companions on merit of our own strengths is beside the point, truly. Endowed with the power of the Black Rider, you can see we were able to defeat them with relative ease. As I have said before, it is our destiny to enter this hut, and you will not stop us."
"To that end, I do not promise you that by simply bending to our will that you will get exactly what you are looking for. I only promise that your chance of getting that by working with us is far greater than the inevitability of death should you continue to chose to stand in our way." Ishbaad crosses his arms, Greatsword tip stuck in the snow at his feet.
"I sense no lies in what you say... but you still need a key to control her Hut," Auraenos, apparently, is quite well informed, "Show it to me and we have a deal."
Ishbaad reveals a simple, mundane looking plague doctor's mask, and wordlessly waits for Auraenos' approval.
"Interesting..." Auraenos takes the mask and turns it over a few times. He smells the stale herbs that are still in the tip of the beak and crinkles his nose at the pungent aroma. He then whistles a long, deep note. Nothing visible happens to the mask or to Auraenos but once he has finished he nods with a satisfied look on his face.
"Very well," he says, handing the mask back to Ishbaad, "Passage on Baba Yaga's hut for me, Wortleby and Silverthorn. We travel back to the First World at the first moment you are able to take us there. In return, I shut down the elemental font and remove the reality siphon. Do we have an accord?"
Standing next to Ishbaad, turning the lock of frost giant hair in his fingers, Jorvik studies the piper for signs of deception. Seeing none, he nods.
"Agreed. For me at least. I am a simple man, living in two worlds, child of this frozen hell-hole.
"To clarify, we shall return you and your brood to your home, and you will agree to follow our lead, obey our commands, and guarantee safe passage from us to your world once we can master the hut, and your guarantee we shall depart your world safely.
"You shall also shut down the font, and remove the siphon."
Jorvik slides Heartseeker in its holster, returns his arrow to its quiver, and spits in his hand. He steps forwards and extends his hand to shake.
"The others might be more difficult to convince."
Heafoc lazily wings overhead.
Kuragin frowns as he sees Ishbaad presenting the Black Rider's keys for inspections.
Fey are not to be trusted, ever.
"Before we agree on anything, do tell why were you seeking to free the hut. You and your kin all expressed interest in the hovel, and I would like to know why."
The witch makes his demands from a distance, keeping away from the reach of the enlarged spriggan. While he is happy to avoid violence, taking the fey into hut with them might prove unwise.
"Agreed," is all he says to Jorvik's question. His voice carries with it a mixture of resignation and defeat.
"Why are we interested? Ha!" the dawn piper laughs long and hard before finally recovering, "We saw a chance to recover the legendary Hut of Baba Yaga and bend it to our own purposes! The Hut is intrinsically linked to the First World in a way that is like no other world that it travels to. We believe its origins are in the First World and that is its true home - which is why we were brought here to defend it, and possibly return it to where it belongs. No-one has ever managed to chain it down before in the long millennia of its history. To take such a thing for ourselves? That opportunity is not to be missed!
"However," he is quick to add, "I am smart enough to know when such an opportunity has ended. If you can indeed control the hut, then perhaps our job as the Hut's guardians is to allow you entry. I do wish to return home, though, so you must take me before I will dispel the reality siphon."
Auraenos looks to Kuragin, waiting and longing for that final agreement.
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"Fire-hair. Me a little confused. We talking about us bringing you home with the hut, if we can, but you no let us get the hut until we get you home. Me think you more confused than Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight." says the little blue goblin. "Me think your job is to let get in, 'cause we gonna free the big momma witch. But, me think the reality siphon is gonna stop us from sending you home.
"Me think we bring you all back home... and your poor friends that only wanted to fight. That be ok with me, but you need to let us use the hut to do that."
"Let us get on with this then. I've no doubt that the Winter Wolves and the Iron Guard have re-taken the city from Elvanna's croonies, or at least are well on their way. The sooner we get this hut out of here the better."
Ishbaad puts the mask key away, then moves towards the reality siphon, looking back over his shoulder expectantly.
Almost there Aoife. Stay in one piece, wherever you are...
"Yes, I'm sorry... in my excitement I misspoke. I want you to agree to take me home," Auraenos gives a deep bow of apology, "Since you have, then... well, let us get this over with."
The dawn piper takes out his pipes and blows a scale in a strange minor key. The tempo and volume increases each time he plays it and the notes seem to linger and overlap somehow. Gradually, the water ceases streaming upwards and finally just hangs there in mid-air. A sharp, atonal high note comes out from the pipes and the water suddenly crashes to the pool from whence it came, splashing those nearby.
Kuragin notes that the shimmering effect is gone, and several trees that were not there before stand there now like they always had been.
"Reality is restored," Auraenos notes with a grim look on his face, "Now let us go to the hut."
Able to control his emotions for the time being, Ishbaad's face remains impassive as he strides towards the nearby unexplored portion of the forest.
I'll not leave anything to come up behind us.
"One moment, I'd just like to see for myself..."
"Ishbaad ... wait!" the half-elf runs to catch up with the oread. "I would expect this behavior from Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, but you are supposed to the importance of this task. The hut, and only the hut should be your focus.
"But if you persist in this folly, you shall never walk alone." Jorvik joins him in quest to uncover the last unexplored forest.
Heafoc continues to circle lazily in the air above them, ever watchful, ever ready to dive should her master need her.