Before anyone can say a word, find out who 'Caigreal' or this ettin-witch's mistress, 'Jadrenka', might be, the little goblin has blown her into pieces of flesh, sparking with electricity. He does note her lack of comprehension for his Giantish and dimly realizes she was speaking the language of the First World to herself.
With little else to do and no information to glean, the companions continue along a and down a winding corridor, deeper into Artrosa.
Stone stairs lead into a narrow, rectangular chamber filled with the overwhelming stink of urine. The walls and floor are haphazardly covered with countless lines of jagged runes. Two short flights of stairs climb to small platforms at either end of the chamber.
Standing in the middle of the room are two slightly larger than human monstrosities. The companions at first take them for apes, but their skin has a pale blue, icy quality and they have a pair of massive, bison-like horns protruding from their foreheads, and hooves to match. Kuragin recognizes them from some obscure legend as Andrazku demons, hunters spawned from the dark matter of the Abyss itself.
They seem to be currently undergoing some kind of struggle for dominance but both turn to face the newcomers to their 'domain'. The room has no visible exits that these things could be guarding, but a large wooden chest bound in steel seems both the reason for their placement here, and the likely source of their bickering.
The demon responds by rushing up to slap the hapless goblin across the hallway and into the opposing wall.
The poor, heroic, blue goblin cannot help but wonder at the unfairness of the universe that this is the fight he should choose to parley, and not the last one. He also sees no comprehension of his Sylvan or Aklo on the faces of these demons, suggesting perhaps that they - unlike the witch-ettin - are not from around here.
"Noo!" Ishbaad shouts, to late to stop the overzealous goblin from loosing the bomb.
"Sandstone! Ice Melt's Quietly in Sunlight. I know you are a good goblin now, and I know you are smarter than that. Not everything in here is our enemy, as shown by the tree. Even if they are our enemy, if there is a chance we can get information from them, we need to try." Ishbaad projects calm, despite his oread curse, as he gives his constructive criticism to his bomb flinging companion.
Ishbaad cringes as Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's body is flung mercilessly across the room.
Oh boy... That's just bad timing...
With a roar to defend his friends, Ishbaad charges the demon that swatted the goblin away so easily. Red enameled armor flashes over the demons, reflecting the cruel, cold light of the cave just before sanctus custos crashes in on the demon's shoulder. Charged with the holy justice of Iomedae, sanctus custos proves to be the bane of this ape like demon's existence on this plane. The arm is severed off clean at the shoulder while Ishbaad's shoulder plows into the abyssal creatures chest. The Andrazku plows a deep furrow in the broken floor of the cavern before finally coming to a stop.
"Looks like these guys don't want to talk Icy!" Ishbaad offers by way of apology for confusing the poor goblin.
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"But... but... me was trying to be a good goblin. Me was talking..." blubbers Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, as he makes no attempt to stand up. "Me was trying to talk our way through..."
His face shows total defeat, and confusion. First one way, then the other. This whole adventure has made no sense. He sits there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do as Ishbaad lays into the demon.
Looking on at the strange, two-headed being, the child tilts her head to one side in confusion and tries to comprehend what the two things might be talking about. Before she can open her mouth to ask and inquire, Aoife cringers as a blinding flash engulfs the creatures.
Noooo! she thinks, turning to regard the goblin. The ways of Irrisen have rubbed off too much on us all. Killing before giving the others a chance to speak for themselves... As the thoughts occur, she cannot bring herself to speak to Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and instead only looks upon the goblin with wide, sad eyes.
The child turns to see her brother struck so hard he was sent flying, jouncing off the hard surface. "Icy!" she shouts, following her guardian's actions and diving forward at the second ape-like creature. For the moment, the child forgets that the goblin does not like to be called by the shorter, though only loving meant, nickname, and is filled only with concern for her brother's wellbeing.
Reaching out with the enormous gauntlet-covered hands, Aoife grasps the creature's limbs and scurries quickly around its body. When at last her climbing halts, now clinging to the thing's back, she reaches under one of its arms, and braces her grip by locking her hands and encircling its neck. Letting the anger at seeing her younger brother struck, the child lets the blinding rage take hold and squeezes with all her might.
As the demon stubbles and swipes at her body, she holds tight, intending to keep the beast occupied until one of her companions can bring it down.
Releasing Heafoc with a cry to the air, Jorvik draws Heartseeker from his back and nocks an arrow before pulling the bowstring to his cheek.
A second before he loosens, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's bombs arc through the air decimating the Ettin.
"What is done is done, Ishbaad. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight was merely doing what he does through no fault of his own."
Jorvik gives the goblin a reaffirming pat on the back before searching the remains of the pseudo-giant.
"Sweet Desna!"
Drawing Frostreaver, Jorvik steps in front of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight as his other companions dispatch the demon.
"Demons! What are you doing here, in Baba Yaga's prison!? Answer!" Kuragin's hex of tongues translates his speech for the demons to understand. The only problem is that the time for talks might have already gone. To avoid the goblin's fate, Kuragin stays behind his companions, and observes the demons' reaction.
If the hex of tongues is of no help, there is always the other - the one which send the target to slumber.
"Prison? Not know what this place is!" replies the demon as Sanctus Custus slices into it.
"Follow centaur prince, Vsevolod, and he tell us guard treasure - so we guard!" yells the other, striding forward to avenge his fallen comrade only to have an arrow shot into his mouth by Jorvik.
It takes but the one flaming 'snowball' from Kuragin to finish the job.
Intrigued as to what these lower demons could have been guarding, the companions pry open the chest and dispatch of the poison dart trap within. Inside, they find a potion of nondetection, a potion of gaseous form, a rope of climbing, a wand of air walk [ooc](Kuragin reveals it has 7 charges remaining)[/i], a mundane hammer and a score of iron spikes, two blocks and tackle, and four 50- foot ropes.Next to the chest is a giant-sized portable ram. Otherwise, the room is devoid of useful items... unless some witch spell or alchemical reagent calls for demon feces. This disgusting pair were clearly left here for some time with no orders to use a latrine.
The companions continue along, to find a dead end. Unwilling to accept that there was only one chamber in the Maiden aspect of Atrosa, they run their hands along the gnarled stone crevasses and find a loose stone that should not be loose. Sure enough, it pulls away an inch before the wall swings inwards to reveal a natural cave system.
This cavern is warm and humid, and stinks of stagnant water. Wisps of water vapor hover just above the floor, somewhat concealing a swampy morass of fungus. In some areas of the cave, large lumpy piles of fungus rise from the slop like fetid islands, and long, rubbery fungal strands hang from the ceiling and walls.
In the center of the cavern is a playful looking bearded and horned creature with furry goat legs and a set of pan pipes. He is seated within the boughs of a large, morose-looking tree. All instantly recognize it as a satyr. A bull carcass lies between this chamber and another chamber on the far side, it seems to be sliced open in some kind of sacrificial manner - Jorvik notes that it is not the proper way to butcher a member of the ox family.
With first a look of surprise, followed by a sly smile, the fey piper begins to play a haunting melody on its pipes. It seems benign and nice enough until all notice that Aoife has become seduced by the soft, lilting tune. Aoife's mind is drawn inexorably to the base of the tree, and she knows - just knows - that the cure to all her sadness lies buried amongst its roots.
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Stepping forward, Aoife can feel the soft, spongy texture of the floor beneath her feet. Each steps brings her closer, bit by bit, toward the base of the tree. One at a time she grabs each cuff of the gauntlets, and gives them a pull to ensure they are seated as tight as possible, as she knows she will soon need to dig hastily through the roots.
It is there, I know it is, she thinks, looking on and tilting her head curiously to the side. She cannot help the crooked smile which has begun to spread, reaching wide across her face. It will all be over soon. I will finally be at peace. Just a moments worth of digging, and I will be whole again.
It's just like digging in mom's garden... from my second childhood. At the base of the trees near sunderglen creek, with Toad watching, Aoife's mind races at the pleasant thoughts filling her mind as she continues to step forward.
I can't wait to see them again...
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Aoife digs through the dried then sodden leaves, tearing at the ground. Appearing in the soil is a large tome. The True Journal of Tighearnán Limerick, the front cover reads. A strong hand lands on Aoife's shoulder and she spins around. It is her father.
"It was all lies," he says reassuringly and wraps Aoife up in a hug. The child returns the hug with all her strength. "Never let me go, Aoife Limerick," says Tighearnán, liquid happiness pouring from his eyes.
Aoife rushes up to the filthy tree and begins to rummage through the near-sewage at its base. She finds a rock and holds it aloft... but then a long, writhing branch from the tree snakes down like a python and grabs her, lifting her into the air.
Rather than resist, Aoife seems to be - tenderly - hugging the branch back, even as it constricts and begins to squeeze the life from her! All the while, the dark and alluring melody of the satyr continues.
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Ishbaad sees, not entirely clearly, but sees nontheless what is going on here. Deep inside his mind he laments the fact that yet another person is cloaking the poor child in lies. He wonders if she would almost prefer to die in the vision than be shown the ugliness behind the curtain of truth once again.
No. It will not be so...
Ishbaad opens his mouth as he begins to charge across the room, Sanctus Custos drawn and crusted with demon blood. The scream he looses, however, is not heard by any in the room, save the satyr. The sound echoes and vibrates in the musician's ears, creating a discordant sound that splits his eardrums. Blood drips from the fey's earholes as the oread finishes his charge, slashing hard at the constricting tree branches.
The blade finds purchase in the branch, but the tool is not proper for cutting down trees. The sharp edge cuts deep into the branch until its momentum is slowed, which inevitably jerks the branch hard with the force of the swing.
"Kill that damn fey!" he yells as he pulls hard. The tree, however, will not release the blade.
Once again, his mind screams warnings that his actions will somehow damage his already tattered relationship with Aoife. Somehow whatever he does next will be construed as destroying her newest release from the harsh realities of human existence. He ignores the warnings and tries to wrap his hands around the branches that strangle the poor girl and pulls with all of his considerable strength.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight hears the call for killing from Ishbaad. He is still confused by what has happened earlier in this realm, so doesn't act immediately. However, he then has an idea!
Rather than killing the fey directly, he decides to remove the real threat from the satyr's hands... his pipes. He quickly throws a bomb at the pipes themselves in an attempt to destroy them. His fiery projecting flies out of his hand, and with his normal pinpoint accuracy strikes the pipes, causing the pipes to explode in a burst of splinters and flames, and scorching the satyr as well, but not lethally so. The remnants of the pipes, however, continued to burn.
"Leave my sister alone!!!" he yells in Sylvan, using the more familial reference his friend has been using lately. "We no wanna fight, but we will kill you if we have to!"
The satyr looks at his broken pipes in utter dismay. A very, very worried look falls over his face. At the same time, Aoife shakes her head free of the haze that had overcome her and reality is there once more. The tree is choking the life from her.
"You don't want to kill me?" cries the former fey piper in the language of the First World, "Then save me!"
At that, the satyr tries to jump down from the tree. Another tendril snakes forth, however, and grips the satyr just as tightly as it gripped Aoife. A beaked mouth appears in the center of the tree and it slowly pulls the horned creature towards it - obviously about to make a meal from the thing.
"Jorvik, grab the child!" Kuragin shouts, but soon starts to wonder how that would end up. He's seen the incredible strength those gauntlets give her.
While the goblin deals with the pipers instrument, Kuragin goes for the fey itself. He chooses a non-lethal approach, mostly being interested if the fey knows anything interesting. It is hard to question a dead opponent, after all.
With a wave of his hand, the witch calls the Hex of Slumber upon the satyr.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight deals with the evil looking tree in the matter any goblin would... with fire.
He lobs an explosive bomb at it, trying to avoid everyone, including the Satyr. The bomb explodes in flames, setting the tree on fire. "Bad tree. Maybe you not smart enough to understand me, but maybe you are. If you are, you wanna let satyr go, or me let you burn to the ground. Maybe me still let you burn to the ground, but that depends on if you let go of the satyr fast enough.
"Horny goat man, what is your name?"
The satyr alights the doomed and flaming tree, landing nimbly upon the sopping wet ground. It looks forlornly at its broken pipes and then fixes Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight with a baleful glare.
"I guess I should thank you for that," he indicates the downed, formerly animate tree with his head, "But since you were the one who stopped my charm on it, causing it to turn on me in the first place, I think we'll just call it even.
"My name is Poryphanes," he says proudly, "And even without hearing your strange dialect of the True Tongue, I can tell that you are not from around here. What brings you to Artrosa?" The fey sets to preening himself by a still pool of semi-reflective water while he awaits an answer. He is clearly a fan of the way he looks, and the companions can now see webbing beneath his arms... and what they first took for a cloak at a distance is now obviously his folded wings. They are leathery and bat-like and he seems to have them tucked away behind his back. Other than the wings, though, he is every bit a satyr.
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight laughs at the fey's estimation that they were even, as he didn't see it that way. But, he'd learned in his training as a snake-oil salesman, not to contradict a sucker... customer you had ready to buy.
"We looking to save the Witch-Queen, Baba Yaga. She missing, and we need to find her keys, so we can find them. Do you know about any keys in here?"
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Tighearnán's arms wrap around the child, encircling her within a protective barrier that no evil or hurt could pass. In her mind, there was a dull roar that thundered in the distance, but subdued and dulled, rolling in the background like a steady moan from the ether. The sound shifted and rose in pitch until it was her father's own voice, struggling and exclaiming with mock effort that he was squeezing her as tightly as his arms would allow. Then Tighearnán took Aoife and shook her lovingly, nearly spinning her full-circle within his arms, though to the child it almost felt as a jarring vibration that propagated through his grasp and into her.
A moment later it was as if her eyes opened suddenly after a long sleep. She could see the chamber surrounding her, and the collosal, twisted tree and her companions battling to save the creature tangled fast in its writhing roots and branches.
It took a moment of standing dumbfounded before Aoife realized she must still be sleeping. Her father would be waiting for her when she awoke next. Her mother too would be there, just down the hall from her bedroom. She would just need to pass through this strange dream first.
And what a strange dream it was. Traveling through space to different dimensions. Phasing between different planes of existence. Fighting witches, and witch queens. Slaying trolls and angering dragons. Leading rebellions and losing the one thing she loved the most. But was as meaningful in this dream was being brought into a group of uncanny friends that were beyond trustworthy, loving, and reliable... they were family.
The tree burst into a halo of fire, and Aoife stared at the odd, winged and webbed creature standing before it. The goblin was speaking to the thing in a language she did not understand, and their words were fluid and lyrical.
It was then that Aoife finally realized the truth and gracious gift the hut had given her. This place and this life, with the companions that had become family, was not real. Baba Yaga's hut had shown her a glimpse of her true life and allowed her gaze to pierce through the invisible and perfectly hidden walls of sleep that mimicked a real world, where she watched and again saw her life in the small house sat upon the hill in the middle of the forest. Her real life was with her mother and father, and she was asleep in that place at this very moment. Here, in some distant and ancient prison that both existed and didn't exist at the same time, was only the dream of a child, and she knew she would wake from it eventually. Why the dream had lasted this long, she could not tell. Maybe there was something which kept her from waking. But whatever the reason, she would figure it out in time. What was important to her was realizing at last what was truly real.
With a smirk spreading across her face, Aoife realized she was right after all. There was a link between where her parents were and this place. It was not the forest, like she originally thought, it was the hut. Somehow, she would find a way to use the hut to either wake from this dream or escape the confines of this reality and find her parents waiting for her in that house on the small hill.
Must we all be haunted by our past? When is the suffering much? Why can't she be healed?
While pondering these questions, Jorvik pulls his handaxe from its holster. The approaches the limb that holds tightly, tenderly in its well-worn grip.
Uttering a cry of rage, Jorvik begins to chant an old Iron Guard Marching song.
Those that don't speak skald can still feel the rhythmic rise and fall of the bloodspeakers chanting and feel inspired by his words.
THe others can see the vivid images Jovik depicts, the blood, the cold, the screams, the stench, the war.
Striking as hard as he can, the half-elf almost severs the limb on his first blow.
"Aoife, come back to us. We need you." he whispers as splinters of wood spray everywhere.
"Keys?" Poryphanes strokes his bearded chin, finally tearing his gaze away from the reflective pool, "I don't know much about keys. I guess you'd have to speak with Jadrenka about that. She's the keeper of this place, after all. Otherwise, you could try Caigreal, but she's as like to kill you for approaching her as not." The satyr rattles off those names as though they ought to mean something to everyone present.
"So the rumors are true," he muses, picking up on the other piece of information presented to him by Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, "Baba Yaga has been captured by her daughter. I thought them a flight of fancy, but your presence in Artrosa confirms it. The Queen of Witches has been deposed. Interesting..." Poryphanes seems to become lost in thought as he begins pacing around the wet ground of this cavern.
"Proyphanes," Jorvik begins approaching the apparently flying satyr, "Much and many names have been thrown at us since our arrival here in Artrosa. Knowledge is power. We have heard of Vsevolod, centaur prince, now you tell is of Jadrenka the keeper of this place and Caigreal who would kill us. These are strange names. Who and what are they and where are we to find them?" Jorvik's military mind begins curing as he prepares for an apparent invasion. "Do they get along, are there factions here in Artosa, as in the real world? Bah, I thought this would be more straightforward but when has it ever been easy for us?"
"Correct me if I am wrong, but isn't the purpose of Artrosa to imprison Kostchtchie? Who guards a Giant god by throwing in a bunch of random powerful beings?"
Baffled, Jorvik moves Ishbaad to the side. "So your armor, what is it you were thinking? Honestly, my decorative abilities are not my strongest art but I will do my best to represent your fighting spirit and your love of lupines. Here are some ideas."
Ishbaad nods along, equally as ignorant of Artrosa and hopeful that the satyr might shed some light on that.
Not having anything to add to Jorvik's question, he listens carefully, hoping to help make sense of what and why they are here, beyond retrieving the keys they seek. What will not be the last time, Ishbaad laments the loss of information from the foes they have already slain.
"Who ar..." Ishbaad stops when Jorvik asks the straight-to-the-point question of who, what, and where these beings would be.
Eventually, as the group mills about deciding what to do next, Ishbaad confers with Jorvik.
"Coloring, yes. That is what I had in mind. Can it be done in a blood red? I can see that enamel is only for ceremonial weapons and armor, and these will be far from ceremonial." he finishes, indicating the intricate and exquisite platework of his star-metal armor.
"Perhaps your skill in engraving might highlight the name for this magnificent armor, though I am still unsure of what name it should bear."
"Ah, loud madman," Poryphanes seems to be addressing Jorvik, "The answer to both of your sets questions is the same each time: they are witches, and it is they who will find you! Pray that Jadrenka finds you before Caigreal does. Jadrenka is the rightful guardian of this place and will be sympathetic to Baba Yaga's cause, but Caigreal is Jadrenka's mother and the leader of a Hag Coven, and has resented her ever since Jadrenka took over. She obeys, of course, but rebels in any way she feels she can get away with. If Baba Yaga is captured, who knows what that means?" The satyr actually shivers at this and unconsciously gives himself a protective hug.
"Of course, neither witch is what you would call 'good', or anything approaching it," Poryphanes looks over his shoulder as though expecting one or the other to actually be there observing him, "The allies of Baba Yaga are ever a self serving an diabolical lot."
"Atrosa was created to imprison Kostchtchie, yes, but it is so much more," the satyr scratches his chin in thought once more, "It is a home to many and a bastion of Baba Yaga's. After all, Kostchtchie roams the halls of the Atrosa that never exists, what else to do with the remaining three versions? Artrosa is a symbol for the cycle of life and has become entrenched in the landscape of the First World in the short time it has been here. Who knows what would become of it were it to lack guardians loyal to the Queen of Witches?"
Poryphanes moves around and stretches his wings. "I guess now it is home to one less denizen. I doubt Baba Yaga will take well to the death of the tree I was supposed to bring sacrifices to. She'll be able to find me should she wish to try, no doubt, by why make it easy for her?" With that, Poryphanes takes to the air and flies past the companions and - presumably - out of Artrosa forever.
With little other choice in direction, save to follow Poryphanes, the five move deeper into Artrosa and enter the chamber beyond.
A series of head-high partitions fashioned from intricately brocaded cloth panels stretched over wooden frames take up the center of this cavern, forming a large enclosed area in the center of the chamber.
From within one of the partitions, a figure emerges. She is a beautiful, barefoot young human woman with long, dark hair wearing a simple homespun dress. "Thank you, thank you... have you come to save me?" she says all at once, a look of relief on her face at the sight of the entering heroes, "I've been imprisoned here for so long, and the guardian of this place won't let me leave. You can help me, can't you?"
She seems to be addressing Jorvik more so than the others, and her eyes plead with him for aid.
Ishbaad grumbles at the news that they must, more or less, wait to be found by one of the witches.
"Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. You heard the Satyr, we must be more careful about how we deal with the denizens of this place. If only there was a way we could wear the mantle of the black rider more visibly, so that others may know who we are. It may help avoid more unnecessary conflicts."
"I worry already about what we might find dealing with this Caigreal." He mumbles to the others, or perhaps, to no one in particular.
When the maiden approaches them, Ishbaad stops advancing, his mind spinning with the possibilities of what and who she might be.
So far, nothing is truly as it seems. Always an undercurrent of deception.
"We may be able to, and yet we may not. We are servants of Baba Yaga, and hold the mantle of the Black Rider. Who are you, and why have you been imprisoned here? Speak plainly, I will brook no lies."
Channeling the power of his goddess, Ishbaad's divine talent for discerning lies gives him a tingle in the back of his neck that runs down to his heart. Should the maiden try to conceal the truth, he will know.
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"Me be careful. Me always try to be careful. But me was good and helped out Proyphanes, no? And save Eefie? That good, right?"
The woman approaches, and while the goblin should be cautious and suspicious, this isn't part of his nature.
"We help! We great heroes!" he blurts out at the same time as Ishbaad. After a glare from him, he backs off a bit, and says, "But maybe only after you answer questions from Boss Ishbaad."
At the mention of Baba Yaga, Caigreal shoots a look of hatred the way of the companions and steps back from Jorvik. Fear seems to take over, though, and she shrinks away some more. "Oh, how wrong I have been. Servants of Baba Yaga? Fie to you then, you are more like to help Jadrenka than to be of any use to me."
"You will help?" she gasps when Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight blurts out his offer, "Perhaps, then, if I answer your questions you will indeed take pity on me... after all, what else do I have to lose?
"My true name has been lost to the centuries. For now, though, I am the maiden," she begins deliberately, measuring the companions' reaction as she speaks, "While Jadrenka keeps me here in Artrosa, and it has been my abode for longer than any other, I do not wish to be under Jadrenka's guardianship. I would rather die than suffer under her rule.
"As for why things are the way they are, I do not know fully. Baba Yaga bade Jadrenka do what she did, against my will. This version of Artrosa needed a maiden, and so I am. I pleaded with the Queen of Witches, but to no avail. I thought I had a chance to be free of Jadrenka by throwing my lot in with a Coven of Hags. However, Jadrenka slew one of them - Silyzil - and now they are at an impasse, neither having sufficient power to have an advantage over the other. I had hoped that you might tip the balance in my favor - but you bear the Mantle of the Black Rider. Even I know what that means: you are Baba Yaga's, as Jadrenka is.
"Unless, your goblin speaks for all of you and you will help me - I just ask that you slay me rather than let me live yet another century under that evil witch Jadrenka." She bears her throat and looks down at Ishbaad's powerful sword.
Ishbaad senses that she is genuinely angry when she speaks, and there are no falsehoods in what she has said.
"I judge that you do not speak any lies." Ishbaad says with a finality that seems a bit out of place, though serves the purpose of informing his companions that important detail.
"However, your plight seems to have some holes, or perhaps loopholes is the better term. You do not wish to remain in the forced servitude of Jadrenka, but what say you about Baba Yaga herself? Perhaps allow me to speak more plainly. What would you do if you were free of Jadrenka?"
"Baba Yaga? The one who bade Jadrenka do what she did to me? I have nothing but spite for that creature," the maiden looks nigh upon tears, "But if I were freed... I would do my best to return home, though I have been here for so long... I do not know... perhaps my home no longer even exists - but I would do my best to find it." She balls her fists and manages a look of defiance. "Now, are you going to help me fight this Jadrenka, or are you going to kill me?"
My are you beautiful. I have not seen one such as you since ...
Snapping out of the trance the witch momentarily cast upon him, Jorvik studies her. Remembering the words of the satyr, this is Caigreal, Jadrenka's mother. Yet she is playing the part of maiden?
"Greetings. I am Jorvik. A Bloodspeaker. Your story will merge into ours and be a part of the grand ballad that we are currently living. You say, Caigreal, that you are the maiden. Yet you are the mother, the mother of Jadrenka. Why are you not the mother and she not the maiden? And where will we find the crone?" The last more a question to himself than to her.
"We have reason to believe that you are the leader of a Hag Coven. Where is your coven? I tend to not make friends in this wold as I am wont to ask many questions. Something that seems to anger many. Yet I will not spill blood wantonly. Before we decide, what do you have to offer us if we did decide to help you against your own daughter?"
The maiden seems somewhat taken aback, before sneering at Jorvik and shooting him a look filled with such malice that his bones might freeze were they not wrought in the cold of the north.
"My choice of form reflects this portion of Artrosa," the newly revealed Cagreal explains, "As I said, for now, I am the maiden. If you seek the crone, look for the waxing moon.
"My coven was composed of three. I have already told you that Jadrenka slew one of our number and now we are at a stalemate. Ever since Baba Yaga gave her guardianship of Artrosa, she has been more powerful than I. My companion is elsewhere in Artrosa, but not the version that currently exists - so it is impossible to tell you where she really is... and that is well, for Jadrenka has ears everywhere.
"So, you are still willing to help if the price is right? This is good. I can provide many things. Tell me what you want, and - if it is within my power - it is yours. I care not for things desired by mortals, only to be finally the one to rule here in Artrosa. If you can help us defeat Jadrenka, it will prove to Baba Yaga that she was a poor choice of guardian and then I will be chosen." Caigreal licks her lips and waits for the companions to name their price.
Jorvik looks to Ishbaad. "What say you? Is this creature trustworthy and most importantly can she aid in our quest?"
Ishbaad bristles as Jorvik requests her trustworthyness.
"No, and Yes." he says, with an air of finality.
"No, she is not trustworthy. As you so clearly pointed out, she managed to easily mis-represent who she is, all while not uttering a single untruth. She is an evil, calculating, power-hungry, recalcitrant servant of Baba Yaga. All of those things, I would assume, she takes as only the highest compliment." Ishbaad delivers his assessment in an even tone, not looking away from the beautiful maiden.
"And Yes, she could help us, though I hesitate to help the one who has not won the favor of Baba Yaga over her daughter. Perhaps on that, I shall reserve my judgement until I meet the younger servant of the Queen of Witches."
"In fact, I would not even go so far as to believe that killing her would end her. It is likely some additional ploy to unleash even greater power that she might possess. I don't know what is harder to grasp an understanding of, fey, or the descendants of Baba Yaga." Ishbaad finishes, allowing a smirk as he turns to regard Kuragin.
The child follows the others as their path wonders deeper into Artrosa. She walks about, almost absentmindedly and uncaring, seeming to only half listen to the conversations with Poryphanes. She looks about in awe, taking in the sights around the group with wide-eyed interest and the structures and passages of Artrosa. It seems almost as if Aoife is for the first time processing the wonder and strangeness of this place. It is as if this is the first time the child is standing with the weight of her father's death lifted from her shoulders.
As Cagreal discusses with the group, pleading her case, the child's attention is slowly drawn back to their talks. "You are the leader of the Coven of Hags, here in Artrosa?" she asks initially. "Or you wish for my friends to install you as such?"
"You mentioned that Jadrenka killed one of their number... this, Silyzil... and now the coven is at an impasse until one has sufficient power to lead," Aoife continues, looking to the beautiful maiden. The child cannot help but be taken by the woman's beauty which shines even through the simple garb.
"We have been warned that though you follow Baba Yaga, you will rebel in any way you can get away with," she adds, her tone not at all accusing, but rather interested in searching for a way to support the woman's cause. "What would you do if we tipped the balance in your favor?"
"You negotiate with me like I am some common street vendor," the maiden form of Caigreal looks ready to tear the companions apart, "I am the Matron of the Coven, and the bargain is simple: help me defeat Jadrenka and I will grant you... wait, the bargain is not that simple is it? You have yet to make your wishes known. Perhaps you expect me to pluck them from thin air, or tear the information from your minds? I can do that you know, but then I do not think you will be in much of a state to help anyone.
"And you," Caigreal turns upon Jorvik, "You wouldn't be able to tell a lie if it were made manifest and confessed itself to you. Black is the brightest color. Trees are not alive. I am eight feet tall." None of the obviously false statements register on Ishbaad's spell. Either she truly believes them, or she is unaffected by this particular one of Iomedae's divinations.
"But do not be concerned," she continues, "I do not need to lie and have told you nothing but the truth in our dealings. I will tell you some more. What I intend to do after Jadrenka is dead is none of your concern unless you wish to live here," Caigreal asserts, "But I wish to be guardian of this place, and Baba Yaga will no doubt see that I was a more worthy one than Jadrenka all along. That is all you need to concern yourselves with.
"If you think, though, that I will let you treat with Jadrenka and play us both off the other, you have another thing coming! Now, tell me what it is that you want and I will tell you if we have a deal or not."
"No deal." Ishbaad steps forward and speaks with all the authority he can muster, taking control of the situation from his companions.
Not for the only time he hopes it is for the best.
"We bear the mantle of the black rider, for whatever that might mean here. Baba Yaga has judged you unworthy of dominion over Artrosa, and I see nothing that should change my mind. For if you are not powerful enough to take leadership on your own, and must rely on us to tip the scales, then it is plain enough to me to see why Baba Yaga chose your daughter. I do not doubt we can find the keys we seek without you."
Ishbaad draws his mighty blade, prepared for whatever fallout comes from his inflammatory statement.
"Trustworthy she is not, and I do not see how allying ourselves with her would help us on our quest. To seek Baba Yaga, is not better to ask the one she appointed to guard her prison - Jadrenka?"
Something about Caigreal's Damsel in distress ploy sends shivers down Kuragin's spine. Oldest trick in the book, indeed. But if what they say about hags is true, the real form of Caigreal might not be quite as pretty.
"Let us seek Jadrenka, and leave this creature to it's schemes"
Kuragin steps backwards to leave, but keeping all the time his eyes on Caigreal.
"Fine!" screams Caigreal. Having become more and more agitated with the exchange, she is fit to boil over. Suddenly, she tears at the flesh on her face and sheds the guise of a maiden like a locust shedding its shell. Emerging from the discarded skin is a hulking beast with long, gangly arms, a sharp nose and ancient, dried flesh clinging taught to disproportioned bones. Eight feet tall, her black eyes shine brightly in the dim light of the cavern and her bared claws clench into fists.
"A curse upon you, those who champion the cause of the Black Rider! May your quest be for naught, may your spells fizzle into thin air and your blows ever fail to find their mark," as she spits out these words, each of the five heroes can feel a powerful energy roiling within them, eating at their souls and sapping them of their very essence. Their arms feel weak, and formulae and spells alike become fuzzy in their minds.
Caigreal rears up to her full height and drags painful claws across Isbhaad's face. They tear through his hardened flesh as though it were mere parchment. A dark energy saps the life from his veins, leaving him weak and cold.
The child springs forward at the ancient creature with its long, slender limbs. The sight of it was terrifying, and for a moment Aoife could not help shutting her eyes in fear and panic. As the beast's claws slashed at her guardian, there is a sense of fear for Ishbaad's life, punctuated by the very real concern that her owns strength was withering with each passing second. Aoife felt weaker now, as if the very words spoken had drawn out the magic from her father's gloves, but that did not stop the child from lunging forward, gauntlets outstretched for the thing's throat. Whether or not Aoife could hold her grip upon the windpipe of this elder creature, and manage to squeeze the life from its body, was not her concern right now, the only thing that mattered was clearing a space for Ishbaad.
If she could, Aoife would wrestle the beast to the ground and squeeze with her vice-like grip until it stopped moved.
This was what Aoife had been training for. Fighting a single threat, using her hands to immobilize her foe, and the surprising strength of her grip to tighten, ever fast and powerful. All it would take was maintaining her hold for a few precious seconds, until her foes were weak enough, then with a bit of a tug... pop... it would stop moving forever.
Aoife does indeed hear a pop in response to her tugging. The little girl with supernatural strenght manages to snap Caigreal's spine. The witch lets out a blood curdling scream, but instead of dying, she lurches forwards. The bony protrusions of her vertebrae suddenly elongate and become sharp, piercing her skin before stabbing Aoife at multiple points along her body. The child is thrown from the back of the massive hag, and lies there in shock, bleeding into the ground.
"You, so-called witch," Caigreal addresses Kuragin, "I will save for later!" Her gaze bores into the much younger witch's skull and suddenly, without warning, Kuragin falls fast asleep.
"Aoife. Noo.." Ishbaad's words are a pathetic, weak mumble as he watches the child flung across the room. He hefts his sword and charges towards the wretched beast.
"Fie to you and your curses! I judge you lacking, and sentence you to death! I am dragon bane, and I will be usurper bane as well!"
Even Ishbaad's voice and strength of presence seem to be sapped as he swings his blade in a mighty overhead chop. Just as it appears he might repeat the limb cleaving performance from earlier, his blade comes down wide of its target.
Impossible, I couldn't have missed!
Dumbfounded, the Oread wades in, ducking the blows a split second to late, and always a step behind with his own retaliation. Quickly the wounds become nearly more than he can handle.
Must, try... different...
Exasperated, Ishbaad tries to even the witching odds. Falling backwards, he flings his sword at Kuragin, where the pommel cracks against his forehead.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"EEFIE!!!! NOT AGAIN!!" Seeing his comrades, he jumps into action, not thinking of anything but freeing his friends. He is about to try something new to wake Kuragin up, but sees that Ishbaad is a step ahead of him.
Finally, he comes out of the funk he has been in since they entered this place, where he felt like he always did the wrong thing, even with the satyr. Now, he knows what to do!
"You think you so tough, nasty Caigreal? Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight know how to deal with creature of Winter! You burn the b~*++ out!" He starts throwing bombs, first an explosive bomb to set her on fire, and then regular fire bombs. His hands are flying faster than they even have as he throws a trio of bombs before his companions can even suggest he stop.
Fire engulfs the hag, burning her. "Zarongel cleanse the land! No more nasty dogs or horses or witches!!! Except you, Kuragin, of course! Me think Zarongel like you. Or was that Milani, me no care right now! Burn longshank witch, and me can crunch your bones when you dead!"
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"So be it, witch."
Before he has a chance to act, Caigreal begins her grotesque transformation. Momentarily stunned by her awe, Jorvik begins to tell the tale he heard as a young boy, of a an old warrior, advanced in age. With one last heroic quest, he takes to the woods to die with his warrior's spirit.
He traveled for many days, cold, tired and hungry, he came upon a snow bear. A bear as old and wounded as he was. The two fought back and forth for a day. The warrior slicing off white fur, staining the snow red. The bear gave back as much as he received, raking and biting the man time after time.
At the end of the day, both retreated to nurse their wounds. At the break of dawn the next day, both returned to the small clearing in the forest. Their great battle began with a roar of rage from man and bear. Both attacked so viciously, so determined, that they had time for no other thoughts than to emerge the victor.
The man's sword was notched and dull, his shield in splinters, his axe battered. The Bear was covered in splotchy blood, cracked claws and broken teeth lined its mouth.
Again the man and bear retreated as the sun slid down the horizon. And again they emerged the next morning. This pattern repeated for days and weeks, until they both met one morning and were too weak to fight.
Collapsed in the snow, they lay with their life-blood pooling around them. They looked to the heavens. Suddenly the mid-morning sun, round and orange, was blackened. A bright corona of light filled the sky in a flash as both bear and man died.
In the winter night, their forms can still be seen twisting and turning in eternal battle.
For what better way to die than to constantly battle your greatest opponent.
Feeling his friends bloodlust rise around him, Jorvik strides in with Frostreaver held his. Heafoc swoops in and distracts Caigreal just for a blink of an eye and he buries Frostreaver into the hag's chest. Feeling good that he could hear the crunch of bone under his hammer's head, Jorvik smiles.
Caigreal's bones do indeed snap and yield to the hammer. She seems to sneer as the weapon penetrates her chest, and then a look of shock appears on her face. Frostreaver has found her blackend heart. The organ cannot survive the impact and explodes upon contact with the witch-hated cold iron metal.
Suddenly, the leader of Artrosa's hag coven goes limp, and her flesh falls to the ground in a lumpy mass as her bones disintegrate and turn to dust. Slowly, her flesh dissolves in the air and her black blood seeps forth to consume all that once was Caigreal. As the last of her skin becomes black liquid, all present can feel the weight of the curse lifted. It seems Caigreal's magic cannot persist beyond her own demise.
From within the putrid pool of liquefied witch (and within the compartmented building), the companions retrieve the following items:
- Phylactery of negative channeling;
- An iron key;
- Potion of protection from arrows;
- A rare and beautiful black sapphire (worth 3,000gp);
- A bejeweled shrunken skull of an unknown, likely humanoid, species (worth 1,200gp if the jewels are removed and the skull discarded, or 2,000gp if sold in Irrisen);
- A collection of small childrens' scalps; and
- A jar of live earwigs.
Left with but the one exit from this chamber, the five victors heal up and leave the stench of dead hag behind. The passageway they follow branches at times, but they stick to the main path. More and more, the cavern seems to be more natural than artificially made. A dim light pervades the place, seeming to come from the walls themselves. Eventually, the passage widens to become a cavern.
Flickering light fills this cavern, emanating from the eye sockets of nine skulls hanging from chains staked into the walls with iron spikes. Huge stone menhirs form a ring about the perimeter of the chamber, catching the candlelight and tearing it into swaths of wavering shadow. The freshly gutted corpses of two frost giants hang from two of the menhirs, facing each other from the east and west. Bound to the massive stones with rusted chains, the giants are soaked in their own blood, which flows into the center of the room to disappear into a huge pile of wilted wildflower blossoms.
As the group moves forwards, a beautiful and terrible form emerges from the dying wildflowers. It is that of a woman of unsurpassed beauty, lithe and naked as the day she was born. Her ebon skin and long, flowing black hair - coupled with her sharp teeth and pointed ears - grant her an otherworldly air, but she is clearly a creature of pure evil. Despite this, though, the male members of the party yearn for her. Their hearts ache for her touch. Even the fact that she appears to have been soaking her clawed hands in the blood of the frost giants does little to diminish the powerful and unnatural attraction the four males have to her.
"My name is Kyrisjana," she says in a deep, alluring tone, "You are lucky that my last two sacrifices were so large as to provide me with enough blood. Now I have other needs that must be fulfilled. Come, frolic in the flowers with me and then f@*~ me. I must have you - all of you - inside me. F+#& me and satisfy me in ways that will make Poryphanes come crawling back to my bed."
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Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight rummages through the items and rooms. He sets things aside, rating them by value. The phylactery he sets aside, mumbling "Me knew a goblin hero that would have loved this." as he crunches through the carapace of one of the earwigs. "She was not a nice lady," he says, as he finds the scalps. He pockets the key, and looks at the potion after realizing what it was, 'This is almost useless! Who wouldn't use magic arrows or bows?' The head he shoves in one of his pouches.
He walks over to Aoife, uses the wands to heal her up, and offers her some tasty wriggly snacks. He tries to comfort her, and make her feel better.
Without even thinking, the little goblin walks forward, dropping his gear and clothes behind him. "You very pretty, but maybe you wanna clean your hands first. Me not so much like giant blood all over me when we play games of giggle-pokes!"
He thinks a minute, as he sets his morningstar on the ground. "Who is Poryphanes? The satyr we freed, right? He run away, 'cause Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight burn up his pretty flute, so that we can save my sister-friend from evil tree that was holding Poryphanes."
"Poryphanes ran away?!" screams Kyrisjana, her face contorting in rage and all thoughts of luring in the male heroes temporarily fled, "Explain yourselves! Where is he and what part did you have to play in this?" A deep fire wells up from behind her eyes and fresh blood drips onto the ground as she clenches her fists so tightly that her own talons dig into her flesh.
Flashes of the recent, vivid memories of his infidelity with Nadhezhda flood Ishbaad's mind as the alluring call of Kyrisjana threatens to overwhelm his mind and body with desire.
She seems to be dealing with it, or has pushed it out of her mind. What would happen should she see something like this again, and so soon? No... I must resist...
Words catch in Ishbaad's throat as he tries to respond, but cannot seem to spit them out. His heart beat quickens, so strong he feels it in his neck as his breath gets shallower. Were his skin not shiny black and granite like, evidence of his increased blood pressure would appear on his cheeks and ears.
The curve of the feminine body overtakes his mind once again, suddenly making him wonder why he would ever try to resist something, someone, so tantalizing. Curves that remind him of a certain blueish skinned female back in Whitethrone...
Would that be betrayal? Is there anything like exclusivity after the manner in which we left? I don't know if I will ever even be back, or if she even expect me to come back... She wouldn't wait, would she? he thinks these things, not unlike a devil on his shoulder trying to convince him to take advantage of such a tempting offer.
Round and round the temptation, and the logical arguments for and against the orgy circle his mind, freezing his physical body in indecision.
Eventually, Ishbaad decides to hold his ground, and not join. His throat is dry, and mouth feels as though it is full of cotton. More than once he wonders if he is making the right decision. How could his desire run so strong, for a woman who so clearly begs for that satisfaction, and yet he still say no? Only through fear of re-kindling some awful memories in Aoife's mind, and some irrational sense of loyalty to Greta, does he refrain.
"We have met with Poryphanes, and he claims to be held prisoner here by Caigreal, whom has recently been destroyed by Jorvik, the Bloodspeaker here. With her no longer here, he may have already escaped. Was your relationship with Poryphanes one of mutual desire? We could always fetch him for you, to help satisfy your desires in place of me."
"Caigreal? No, 'tis Baba Yaga herself that punishes Poryphanes for showing his love to me and for the children we produced," Kyrisjana keeps her fists painfully clenched, "But it is impressive that you slew that wretched and ugly hag! And you think Poryphanes might leave? Then quickly, f~@~ me now and let the pleasurable moans I emit echo through Artrosa's halls and cause him to come flying back in a fit of jealous rage!" The sexually voracious creature pulls her long hair back from her luscious, perfect breasts and reclines with her lithe, long legs spread slightly apart, providing an irresistible invitation for any red blooded male. It doesn't even occur to her that these four could possibly withstand her supernaturally strong allure. Indeed, she may be right.
"Children? Intriguing..." Ishbaad looks back in the direction he knows the satyr has flown through, then back to the wide open temptation in front of him.
I could go get him, or I could ring that delicious looking bell that will surely summon him... The latter would be way more fun, and have the same result, right? He has no pipes left to enthrall any of us, how dangerous could he be?
Ishbaad looks quickly to Jorvik and Kuragin to see how they might react, and notably to the little goblin who seems only too eager...
Oh $%*# it. I'm probably never going to see Greta again anyways. Even if I did, how could she possibly find out?
"Aoife, whatever is about to happen, you are too young for this. Why don't you wait around the corner here and plug your ears..."