"I have plenty more ice creatures. Come, feel Frostreavers warm embrace."
Calling upon Desna's blessing, his hammer which was going just wide of the ice creature, instead comes crashing down on it's head.
Hearing Ishbaad's call, the young girl howls in anger and shifts her feet on the slippery ice. A moment later, she is standing opposite her guardian and swings with all her might to cleave the creature in two.
In a veritable tornado of spears, swords, crossbow quarrels, hammer heads and chanted words, ice flies everywhere. Big and small chunks of frozen water strike the companions in the face amidst a frosty spray. Huffing and panting, the companions survey the scene - ready to strike anything that moves. Ishbaad drives his spear into the surface of the frozen creek for good measure.
In the end, it is only the cold emanations from the shattered ice provide any danger to the victorious adventurers.
With a quick wave of the wand, Ishbaad manages to bring Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight back to consciousness. The poor goblin's face has stuck to the icy surface beneath him, and it takes a while to pry it off without leaving his skin behind. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight sits up with a sneeze. Icicles of snot fly forwards to strike Ishbaad's tattered furs.
Moving onwards, the group finds something in the snow just ahead.
The legs and feet of a frozen corpse jut from a pile of snow next to the trees here.
The corpse belongs to a farmer, from his garb. Based on his description he is most likely Old Man Dansby, the man whose farm was being raided. He was most likely tracking whatever was stealing from him when the ice elementals accosted him. Having no use for his equipment, they left it with his corpse.
Everyone is left wondering how much more could possibly waylay them on the remaining stretch to the High Sentinel Lodge. It looks like it's less than an hour away, but the cold is biting at even those wearing winter furs. Even Jorvik finds himself crossing his arms for warmth. Only Kuragin seems completely comfortable in the wintry weather.
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"Me no like those ice elementals. They hurt Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and no burn too good."
He checks himself out, realizes that although he is tired, he probably can keep adventuring. "Me still have trick up sleeve. Me can drink special drink that make me get strong and nasty... and another drink that make me as big as longshanks! Me can fight real good... make them pay. Plus, me have a LOT of liquid fire left. So, me can still make them burn!"
"Indeed, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. We still have plenty of resources, so let's go."
Jorvik states at Ice, checking if the blue goblin really is as good as he says he his.
"Come, let us find shelter quickly. It should not be too much further to the lodge. Once we get this sorted out, we may return to give the farmer Dansby a proper resting place."
Grabbing the axe from the pile and strapping it on next to his sword, Jorvik begins the slog towards the lodge, hammer on his shoulder in anticipation for more evil.
Determined and heroic as they are, the companions push on. The path to the High Sentinel lodge becomes ever more distinct as it is worn in by more and more footsteps - some of which diverge from or converge upon the main path.
As the group is about to go over a snowy bluff, everyone can hear the sounds of loud arguing from in the otherwise eerily quiet and still wood. The voices seem to be coming from just ahead.
"Goren, what in the name of Kostchtchie's gigantic frosty pubes do you think you're playing at?" comes a particularly gruff voice.
"Who the f*ck is Kostchtchie? And why are you so interested in her pubes, Limm?" asks a higher pitched, but still masculine voice.
"That's a he, Goren," at least two sets of guffaws can be heard in response to that, "And he's the god of the cold - well, the demon lord of it or something. Haven't you heard the others praying to him? Oh, that's right, you're too dense to learn Skald."
"I don't wanna learn Skald! Brandt here don't know no Skald neither!"
"Yeah! Don't wanna learn no stinkin' Skaldi no way now how," comes a third voice.
"Irori's hand, you two can barely speak Taldan!"
The aggressive conversation continues. The companions guess they're playing some kind of card game, but are more interested in bickering than gambling.
Gripping his hammer all the tighter, Jorvik crouches, ready to spring forth and unleash Frostreaver on these poor gambling fools, but holds, waiting for the party to signal that they are ready.
The voices pique the youth's attention and she steps forward quickly toward their source, which remains just over the small rise out of sight. She scrambles up the incline in a crab-like position using both her hands and feet, always careful to creep forward with her belly nearly against the snow creating a motion that seems a mix of waddling and slithering. The enormous size of the her father's gauntlets cause the imprints of her hands upon the snow to dwarf the size of those left by her feet.
At the top, Aoife lifts her head slightly while her green eyes peer ahead, wide with anticipation.
Aoife creeps slowly over the ledge. With the snow both filling the air and muffling her footfalls below, combined with the child's small frame, none of the men below seem to notice her.
Three men sit in a shallow valley beneath the bluff, all wearing heavy furs and all well armed with both bows and shortswords. They seem to have found an excellent boulder for playing cards on. They very occasionally glance towards the road, but they seem to be looking more behind (towards the High Sentinel Lodge) than ahead (for trespassers). The are more engrossed in arguing than the card game, and the dark-haired man seems to be the smarter of the three. He carries a viciously barbed whip in addition to his shortsword and bow. Aoife listens a while and manages to to which of the men the names belong .
After a moment spent observing, the youth slides back out of sight and returns to the others. Gathering her friends about her, she begins speaking a whisper, "Just over that hill, there are three men sitting around..."
She tries to relay everything she has just seen, then waits patiently for the others to decide what to do next, all the while, Aoife looks very pleased with herself.
"Hmmmm...it seems likely they have information about the Lodge. Maybe we should go talk to them." The wizard strokes his beard thoughtfully.
"I have no problem talking to these men. Do you all want to move into more advantageous positions in case trouble arises? I fear if things go south, then reinforcements might spill from the house."
"Yes, yes, you are quite the diplomat, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. Let us go parley with those fine gentlemen." The wizard walks with Jorvik and the goblin.
Ishbaad moves his long spear to his off hand and pulls a regular spear from the strap on his back, ready to throw, just in case things go south.
So a goblin walks up to a table of bloodthirsty mercenaries... What could go wrong indeed...
The corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly at the thought of the inevitable conflict that is about to come down upon the unsuspecting gamblers.
As his companions move forward, Ishbaad crests the hill, taking up the rear.
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"Good day, fellows! Me is Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and these are my friends coming up behind me! We wanna talk, maybe share a fire... maybe share some good stag meat we kill today. You look like good men. Me good goblin! How are you doing today? Would you like to buy a medicinal cure from boss Coramus? He fine alchemist and medicine man, we have a fix for all that ails you!"
"Indeed, good sirs! We have a fix for every need! Boils? No problem. Bowel troubles? I promise you regularity good sir! Issues with the ladies? Something to make you more confident so you can ensure your night of bliss!" The wizard steps behind the goblin, full of smiles.
"Well met. I am Jorvik, the Bloodspeaker. Cheery fellow is he not, my little blue friend. And my aged friend is quite the salesman. Who doesn't need to empty his bowls on these cold, lonely nights. Don't see to many ladies around these parts.
What game is this you play? After looking at my companions wares, mayhaps I can join in a round or two. I am always looking for a good game of chance."
The three men jump up, about to draw their swords and attack when they hear the little blue goblin prattling on. As Coramus and Ishbaad follow, Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight talking all the way, they slowly draw blades from scabbards but otherwise take no hostile action.
"What do you want?" the dark-haired man called Limm asks aggressively, "And what are you doing so far out here selling snake oil?" The man has strange tattoos over his face that look to be tribal markings of some sort. He moves with the easy grace of a well-trained warrior, and his snow shoes afford him more freedom to move than the companions currently enjoy.
The two blonde men, Goren and Brandt (Varisians by their accent) look quite similar. Their beards are braided in almost identical fashion, and both sport large, sloping brows. Their eyes are too closely set and the trio of "salesmen" would be surprised if these two weren't at least cousins.
"Yer! Ain't no-one t'sell stuff ter since..." begins Goren.
"Shuddit, doofus!" interrupts Brandt, obviously worried about Goren revealing too much about something or other. Brandt waddles over on his snowshoes to cuff Goren around the back of the head.
"Hey, back off there, blondie!" says Limm as Jorvik approaches, "We're playing a game called 'Kiss the Dragon', but we're going to continue playing it as a game for three. You and your friends had better explain why you're out here and where you were planning on selling your stuff, or we'll cut you down!"
As the others crest the bluff and approach, the bearded brothers draw their bows and Limm grips tighter to his blade, but they still wait to hear a viable explanation.
Kuragin stands paralyzed. What are these fool southlanders doing? He bandits are obviously picking for a fight, and his allies are trying to have a chat. Negotiation not really being his forte, the Jadwiga stays silent watching the events play out. Unless some miracle occurs, blood will be shed, and the Witch prepares for a battle.
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"Boss and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, we always go wandering around, selling our wares. Townsfolk don't really understand us types, always thinking that me gonna eat their babies and steal there chickens, or something like that. Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight never eat a baby! Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight thinks you know what that is like. Those milk-fed townies are just scared of anything that comes from more than a mile from where they were born, right?"
"Say, maybe we can work some trades, Goren? We got good stuff and Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight bets that you got good stuff, too!"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight gives a big, friendly goblin grin, careful not to show too much tooth against these apparently hostile men. He realizes they will probably end up fighting, but Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight always prefers talking... and eating... and eating... and talking... but occasionally setting bad guys on fire is fun, too!
"My apologies gentlemen. I had assumed that you are just a bunch of hired guards, not Paladins of Iomedae. If you care not for wares, or to gamble, well that is for you to decide.
My small blue friend answered your impolite question, now how about you all answering one of ours? Why are you out here and not in the house? Awfully cold to be gambling out here."
"Heh. Yeah, I can totally see why you'd get run out of town," the more eloquent man replies, "But we're not in a position to be buying your goods exactly. See, we're just lookouts for Cin... for the, er, High Sentinels. We don't carry much coin, just enough to gamble with." He indicated the paltry pile of copper and silver that accompanies the cards on the boulder.
"But we could take ye back t'the lodge!" blurts Goren.
"Abandon our post dipshît? Cindren'd skin us alive!" retorts Brandt. Limm winces at the mention of their leader's name.
"Not if'n we be bringin' 'im good trades, numb nuts!" yells Goren, getting red with anger.
"Bah! You just wanna get outta th'cold ya slacker!"
"Shut it!" Limm says at last, "I'll take them. Anyone is getting out of the cold it's me. Come on, you six. I'll take you to the... other Sentinels. Sure they'd be interested in some bargains." He smiles a big grin that is in no way reassuring to the companions. He seems to notice Aoife for the first time and mutters under his breath, "Old coot taking his daughter into the freezing cold for trade, that's harsh. Real harsh. Even I would have left her warm with those yokels at Heldren."
"Yes, of course, Limm. Lead on, good sir. We'll show you our wares on the way." The old wizard smiles happily, nodding to Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. Why go about shoving swords up people's asses when you could make friends instead?
Ishbaad smiles at the resourcefulness of Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight.
well one of these bums is in for a surprise when we get to the lodge...
He silently follows the group of merchants as they plod along. His regular spear has been placed back in its wrapping, however, he keeps his long spear in hand, using it like a walking stick in the snow.
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" And this Cindren, is he the leader of the... uh High Sentinels?" Kuragin asks, puzzled. He thinks he had heard someone mention these Sentinels, but he has really little idea what the southern organizations stand for. The likelihood of walking into a trap does worry him slightly, even if his companions have proved themselves capable warriors.
"It is sure nice to get indoors, yes? Away from these cold winds," he asks his companions, mostly just to break his silent brooding. "I hope these Sentinels have a warm welcome for us."
Limm walks the unlikely merchants along with him towards the High Sentinel Lodge. He doesn't talk much, except occasionally to inquire as to what it is you're selling exactly. He seems pleased at the thought of having some alchemist's fire for some reason, and feels that Rohkar Cindren will be also. "You'll see," is the only response anyone gets in reply to why he is pleased.
"Almost there," he says at length, "Quiet now. I've got to remember where that crossbow trap we left is... can't be too careful. What with all the," he chuckles under his breath, "Bandits in these parts." His smile of mirth continues as the trail climbs up a hill and the group begins their ascent.
After climbing at least a hundred feet into the hills, the snowy trail finally levels off. In a clearing among the trees, a large wooden lodge overlooks a ravine spanned by a long rope bridge. Smoke rises from the lodge’s two snow-covered chimneys, and large woodpile is stacked against the outer wall. A small outbuilding stands east of the lodge, and a stone well nearly blanketed by snow is barely recognizable to the north. Several tracks lead southwest toward a detached stable.
After pausing and inspecting the ground for a while, Limm advises avoiding a certain patch of snow and the group ascends the path towards the lodge without incident.
The youth eyes the clump of ominous snow, directed to stay clear of it by Limm. She tilts her head sideways for a moment, looking at the white patch, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding vista, a mix of wonder and confusion filling her mind as to why this singular, indistinct patch should be special to them.
The curiosity etched into her face transitions when Limm laughs about the possiblity of bandits and the comment doesn't sit right with Aoife. An odd, unsettling feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. In fact, she realizes, she is fearful of the Limm, and glances back over shoulder to her guardian and Kuragin. Between the wrappings of the scarf, her intense green eyes stare back at both men, ablaze and widened in retrained panic. But the girl does not say anything or voice a single concern, and instead turns slowly to face forward as a small wispy cloud drifts up and over her shoulder, the only remains of an inaudible, fearful sigh.
They let you come with them because you are supposed to be strong... don't act scared like a child now...
Ishbaad takes in the explanation about the snow patch, the sarcastic quip about bandits, and the general sensation of walking into a trap with nary a thought. He knew they were walking into a lion's den of sorts, this would most certainly be where they would find those responsible for kidnapping the noble woman, and this would be where they would shed blood in righteous and swift retribution for the crimes committed.
Turning his head side to side, scanning the hills, trees, and now buildings as they approach, his standard procedure for taking stock of his surroundings and all possible exit points, ambush points, etc, he catches a glance of Aoife, wide eyed, carefully and dutifully walking in her place in line.
Somethings not right...
Sometimes you can tell when an ambush is imminent not because of what you hear, but because of what you don't hear. Aoife's demeanor was no different. No wide-eyed wonder at the snowy world around them. No curiosity at the shapes of her footprints compared to the goblin's. Nothing. Just a blank face, emotionless.
She is afraid... She might hide it better than me...
The giant man extends the length of his stride, quickly catching up to the girl and walking beside her. Leaning over as they walk, he points up to the top of the trees. "Look, up there. A snow owl. Invisible hunters of the winter woods. They are so quiet, that their prey never even sees or hears them coming before they are snatched up."
He turns his face to meet her brilliant green eyes, still stooped over and locks stares for just a moment before whispering, "Stay close, and you will know what it is like to be a snow owl. They won't even know what hit them..." with a wink and a smile he stands back up at his full height, and ruffles the thick fur hat on the top of her head, knocking it slightly askew.
With a quick whispered prayer under his breath he imparts the courage of Iomedae, his patron, onto the innocent little girl.
One day she will realize it isn't really me or even Iomedae that gives her courage...
"Yes, yes, you never can be too careful, what with the unsavory sorts about these days. Tell me, friend, would you care to sample some of our wares right now?" The wizard gives Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight a small nod, waiting on Limm's response.
With the lodge ahead in the distance, but still far away enough that Ishbaad is confident no one has seen the group yet, Ishbaad takes the cue from Coramus. A flurry of activity and a brutal knock to the head and neck area by Jorvik and Limm is sprawling in the snow.
Ishbaad crouches his gigantic frame down to bring his face closer to the now cowed bandit. "I know you are asking questions to yourself right now, or cursing the others for letting us sucker you."
He wipes Limm's own blood from the tip of his spear on the man's furs, taking his time before beginning to speak again.
"You see, what we have here is a situation where bandits, that's you and all your friends, have taken things that don't belong to you, including a woman. Now a merry band of highly capable warriors, that's me and all my friends, have come along to right those wrongs you have committed." Ishbaad takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, watching it cloud up in the cold, then continues.
"You will have a choice between two things here in just a moment. You are going to choose to answer some questions for us truthfully, and to the best of your knowledge. Or you are going to choose not to, by either lying, hiding information, or not saying anything at all. There are consequences for both of those choices. The consequences for choosing to answer truthfully will mean you keep all of your precious blood inside your skin. The other choice will lead to more of this," Ishbaad takes one more swipe to finish cleaning his spear off on the man's furs, "getting all over your nice coat." The smile he flashes this time is markedly different from his trademark disarming smile. This time, it promises pain.
When he is sure he has the man thoroughly shaken, he opens the floor to his companions for some questions, starting with one of his own.
"A while back we found poor farmer Dansby, dead and frozen in the snow. Tell me exactly what happened to him, and his farm."
"Not to worry though, friend. If Ishbaad here gets a bit overzealous, my goblin friend has a bit of fire on hand to cauterize your wounds. So no worries on bleeding to death. Although I've heard being burned is quite painful. I would imagine so, from the various screams I've heard over the years." Coramus doesn't add that those screams were usually from patrons of his and Ice Melt Quietly in Sunlight who didn't take their warnings on how to handle Alchemist's Fire seriously enough.
"Well, Limm, you seem to be the smart one of the bunch. Much like saying you are the prettiest ugly girl in the village though.
My friend here, really likes his spear. I mean really, really likes his spear. And I cannot think of anything he'd rather do than use his spear to end you and get to somewhere warmer, so I suggest you make this quick.
How long before some other group comes to relieve you?"
Seeing everyone on the group suddenly turn on him, Limm's eyes go wide. Sprawled on the snow the man displays anger, yes, but mostly shame at not realizing what was really going on. Rather than being rewarded for bringing much needed supplies to his boss, he instead brought enemies - and capable ones at that.
"No need for that," he says resignedly, "If you let me live, let me go and promise to tell them you killed me, I'll give you all the information I can. Afterwards, you'll never see me again. I was sick of those two mule-brained idiots anyway and Rohkar will kill me for not stopping you lot. My life is easily worth betraying them for." No one doubts his sincerity at that.
"How many are at the Lodge, Limm? Do they keep a watch? What kind of entrances are there?" The old man smiles, giving the bandit his best grandfatherly voice as he asks. Coramus doesn't for a minute doubt the man's words. He couldn't possibly return back, not after this. Such a man would likely just find a new group to fall in with, but that was trouble for another time.
"Should be about a dozen men, and of course we keep watch!" Limm replies after counting out the defenses on his fingers, "We were supposed to be today's watch for the approach - some good that did - and we've got men inside that take the occasional look outside to make sure everything's well. I've already shown you how to avoid the alarmed trap. A few of those strange little winter creature's are there, too. Their leader, a freakish little ice devil (or whatever she is) called Izoze, tends to stay outside, guarding the approach from the west. They don't like the warmth of the indoors much.
"Unless you want to go through a window or risk coming down a chimney with a fire lit beneath you, the only entrance is the main doors on the east."
Limm starts to shiver as the lack of movement allows the cold to sink in a little. He stands up from the snow an shakes some of it off him, but makes no move to leave yet. He is sure the companions will have more questions for him.
"This is a good choice, Limm. There may be hope for your redemption yet. Tell me what happened to the farmer who's stead is just beyond the border of the snow, and why. We know he is dead. Tell me what you have heard of why your group is here. "
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"Umm... Mister?" the youth speaks up, seeming unsure of herself. "Sometime when my friends and I play, we make up codes that only the us kids know about. And to everyone else it doesn't sound like a code," she explains gently kicking a small clump of snow with the toe of her boot. "Do you... umm... and your friends play any games like that? Like a way of knocking on the front door so it means something more than just a knock... Or a words you say to your friends that mean something different than their meaning?"
While she waits for Limm to respond, she takes a step away from the man without realizing her action. Aoife knows she is still afraid of Limm, but is trying her best not to show it. "Maybe he could lead us to the semtinels lodge and act like he is on their side... but really be on our side?" the youth says, struggling to articulate this idea of a plan to her friends.
"I mean, we would tie his hands up behind his back and put his coat on him, so it doesn't look like he is tied up. His sleeve would just be hanging limp, but he wouldn't be much of a danger to us," she voices the plan aloud. "But to anyone else that looks at him, he might not look like he is tied up."
"And then if he tried to do anything bad or hurt us, Uncle Ishy could just cut him in half because he'll be tied up and easy to hit..." she adds the last part not simply thinking out loud and not realizing to anyone else it might be considered a threat.
Limm looks up at Ishbaad, then down at Aoife and then back up to Ishbaad, "I do not know of this farmer. I know that the sprites used to bring in food from somewhere, perhaps that is where. If he is dead, I had nothing to do with it and none I know have bragged of killing him." Limm appears to be sincere in his ignorance.
"Our group has always been here, though not in the Lodge. Cindren and us are more the roaming types. The week we've been here is the longest yet. Two weeks ago, or maybe a bit less, we ran into these winter creatures. They were going to kill us, but Cindren talked them out of it. His plan had something to with that noble woman we kidnapped, but he didn't share his intentions with us. Usually, though, we'd be ransoming her. I reckon that's what he'll be up to this time, too. The ice creatures don't talk about their plans at all, but they showed up same time as this winter thing so I'd say it's a good bet there's a connection. Seems to me they're just setting up a base here for now."
Limm looks back down at Aoife and scratches at his afternoon stubble. "No codes, no secret knocks - we know each other and the place has windows. Acting as your chaperone and taking you up to the lodge myself wasn't part of the deal. I don't fancy what'll happen when Cindren and his crew beat you down and put me to the question. You aren't going back on the deal, now, are you? Because I reckon if I scream loud enough, they'll hear me." Limm seems genuinely concerned about being cut in half by "Uncle Ishy", but figures the adventurers still won't be able to beat Cindren and his men combined with the winter creatures and he'll face torture then death at their hands, too.
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"So, me understand. You all band for so long, you all know each other. You say maybe a dozen in lodge? But maybe some on patrol? What happen if the lodge start on fire? Maybe some run away? How many winter fey are there?"
Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight looks pleased with himself. He thinks he has a plan, one that will cause a lot of fire, and it makes him happy.
"Yes, a dozen in the lodge - and the only patrol I'm aware of was us," Limm eyes Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight suspiciously, "If the lodge catches fire, I'm pretty sure they'll run if they can't put it out - leaving that noble woman to burn." He pauses at the last to allow it to sink in, "But they won't run far. They're vindictive and will only run as far as the heat of the blaze goes. After that, they'll be looking for the arsonist.
"The winter fey vary in numbers. Last I was there, the was just the one inside the lodge, and then Izoze under the bridge. We let them keep to themselves and they do the same for us. The come and go as they please, but when they do go, most seem to go further west rather than towards the edge of the woods - unless they're collecting food."
"Hmmmm...perhaps setting a fire close to the lodge might tip their hand and force them to send out some of their strength to investigate. I would hate to assault a place with a dozen armed men in it in a defensible position."
"These are all good thoughts. Assaulting a defensible position while being outnumbered is a sure plan for failure. Aoife, your idea is a good one, there is just one thing missing. Your plan assumes the fake sentinals aren't already planning on killing anyone who might wander to close. They don't need passwords if they just plan on killing anyone they don't recognize. To that end, I think the bigger question we must answer is, why are they here? If they are setting up a base of operations, what for? The noble woman is part of this somehow, and so rescuing her is still paramount."
Ishbaad's military training kicks in add he things out loud, trying to reason through what is happening on from a bigger picture perspective.
"Limm, tell me again where you expect everyone to be? Where is this bridge you mentioned the troll would be under? How many are stuck doing stable duty? I think the plan here is to divide and conquer. Take off one chunk of the bandits at a time."
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Ishbaad leans over to whisper to the goblin as he waits for Limm to respond, "we might not be able to stay the house on fire, but the stables might be an option, and who wouldn't want to burn down a bridge with a troll underneath it?"
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