"They are sprites..just tiny sprites. They have sworn themselves to those accursed White Witches in Irrisen, they who stole Ulfen lands during the Winter War. No taller than the length of a man's forearm, but don't be fooled. My people tell stories that say they have taken a sliver of ice into their hearts and that their touch bears the harsh fangs of winter cold. I thought they were only stories to frighten children, but now...I see they are true."
Salvianella's eye twitches at the mercenary's tale and she appears pale. Her mind runs the length of the intricate warding markings her mother bound to her skin as a babe. To protect against witches...
"And we're to go fight these, yes?" she says with a hint of apprehension in her voice.
"Bah, sprites are little fairies." Wildir reassures Salvianella as he hold his hand out with index finger and thumb maybe 4 inches apart. "Little glow bugs. Ve smash dem flat!" He claps his hands to emphasize his point.
Yuln chuckles at Wildir's response to Salvianella's apprehension. "You are right to fear them, girl. I assure you, they are far more fierce than glow bugs. Fast, they are...and ordinary steel does not harm them as it should."
Ykaterina nods silently her mind busy working on a plan.
Drew listens to the stories of these evil creatures,; a chill running down his back.
He tries to think of something to ask this wounded warrior, but can only picture little balls of light with mouths full of razor-sharp teeth.
Wildir shrugs, "Vell, talking isn't getting rid of dem fairies. If steel don't hurt den I say just hit dem harder and burn dem also. Now I haf some shopping to do."
"She-elf! Bring my weapon!" the Ulfen mercenary calls out, shifting in the bed with another wince.
Immediately, the alchemist's voice, tinged with exasperation, calls from another room,"I have a name, you frostbitten oaf! Tess-a-rae-a!"
Sure enough though, in short order, Tessaraea comes back into the room, carrying a scabbard that is loaded down with a blade. After she hands it off to Yuln, who seems to expend effort simply holding the blade, he motions for Trelck to come to the edge of the bed.
"Here...is cold iron blade. The fey hate cold iron. It bites them hard. I am of no use in battle right now...I will lend it to you on one condition...make these fairies wish they had never invaded this realm." he offers, extending the blade to Trelck.
The pale blonde girl purses her lips at the sight of the Cold Iron weapon.."Aye that would work..but we might have more weapons to hand than you think..we might be able to confuse ansd trick these fae if they are truely from the Land of Eternal Ice.It's worth a try at least."
She speaks to Wildir in Skald.."What would those fae's reaction be to a Jadwiga do you think?"
Drew looks on at the weapon handed to the dwarf. He asks, "Will normal weapons even harm these fae?"
He places his hand on the hilt of his eastern sword wondering if even it excellent craftsmanship will be enough to harm these ice-born creatures.
Wildir looks speculatively at the tall blonde replying in his native tongue, "I have heard tales that the witches command the winter fey. Is this true?"
"Well then," Salvianella says, gulping and looking slightly unnerved. "I shall return to my room and... change clothes I suppose."
The Ulfen warrior gives a nod in response to Trelck, then looks to Wildir and draws in a deep breath, answering him in their native tongue. "Command is not the right word. Not in any magical sense. The winter-touched fey are wholly evil, and fanatically devoted to the White Witches." he answers, then turns his attention to Ykatarina.
"Jadwiga? You? Hmph. Whatever you may be, girl, but you are no White Witch. You haven't the same feel about you...trust me." he says to her, also in Skald, before turning his attention back to the group at large.
"Steel will hurt the fey, halfling, but it does not cut as deep as it should. They are warded against the bite of it. Cold iron, though, cuts the fey as easily as steel does a man."
He releases a breath now, momentarily shutting his eyes, his head beginning to nod forward before he catches himself. "I fear I am not nearly enough recovered from my wounds, and so much conversation tires me. If you intend to do something about Lady Argentea, we were ambushed on the south road out of Heldren, where the road is closest to the forest's edge. The carriage should still be there."
Wildir waves as he heads for the door, "Ya vell, as de towngirl said, I vill change my clothes."
"Make sure to pack for...cold..." Yuln says. He is clearly on the verge of nodding off in front of you all; you may be able to get one or two more questions answered, but certainly no more than that.
Ykaterina smiles at the wounded man.."Oh I may not have the scent of one..or the manner..but my Mother's blood runs strong in my veins.I do not fear the cold." she tells him in Skald.
"I was merely thinking that it might make the fay hesitate enough to let us strike first"
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Looking at Ykatarina Trelck grins, Aye I have the blood of ice scourers and tundra divers. I rarely feel the bite of cold, not that I don't like to be warm.
Seeing that the group is going off to gather supplies Trelck takes a moment to visit Feldspar in the inn stable, toss him some food and berate the pony about being fat and lazy and not right to head out into the cold like this. He'll join up with whomever once he is done.
"I would be in your debt madam. I thank you!"
The young woman gives you a smile as she takes out all of her seamstressing supplies. "Of course! It's my pleasure to help you out, especially since you'll be going out into the forest for us all later."
Drew blushes as the woman pays him the compliment.
"I just hope we can figure out what is going on. It sure looks like we have a strong group going. Wish I knew more about them, but then again, they are probably thinking the same about me!["
Ykaterina will happily go along to the store and help pick a servicable outfit for the cultured city Lady.
"For me there is not much to tell" she says in answer to the Halfling.." My Father gave his life in Taldor's service when I was just a child..as so many of the Eridors have and my mother whose heart he won and melted in far off Irresen taught me what she could of the ways of her people.She was full blooded Jadwiga but I lost her five years ago..I seem to have inherited more from her than from my father so if my kin from the North are involved in this, well..I have to stop them.Father would have expected it"
Drew looks on in wonder at this heroic figure.
"If I may ask, what is a Jadwiga? I have no heroic family to speak of. Actually I have no family. I was the servant of a minor noble from Cheliax. My master organized a caravan to cross the Crown of the World and into the Tian kingdoms. Once there he got into an altercation with a merchant clan who had him killed. I..umm..lived there for a few years until I could arrange to be part of a caravan returning to Avistan. From there I worked my way down to here."
He stands silently, a far off look in his eyes, before he seems to remember where he is. Blushing he excuses himself and continues to examine some of the merchandise.
Vivialla looks to Ykatarina as she enters the store with Salvianella, adding her own voice to Drew's, though hers is slightly muffled from the few sewing pins that are in her mouth. "I have the same question, if you don't mind the curiosity. This far south we don't hear a lot about the frozen countries at the world's peak...I doubt anyone here knows what a 'jadwiga' is."
Wildir, now clad in heavy buckskin tunic and pants, listens as he leans against the counter slurping from a wine skin. Frowning, he loudly gives his opinion, "De Yadviga are de descendants ov de foreign Vite Vitches dat haf invaded the Nordlands. Dey are not ov dis vorld."
"My thanks, er... Madame, but I already have proper clothes. I'll just need to change into my... other shoes. You didn't really think I'd come this far out from home in this dreadful weather without warm clothing, did you?" She laughs politely then turns to Vivialla.
"Just some extra furs if you please. I do think it is getting colder outside. Oh, and do you have anything in white. It really needs to go with my current outfit."
"He speaks the truth" Ykaterina admits nodding towards Wildir."My Mother was born to a family of White Witches in Irresen..but she forsook that cruel life when she eloped with my father.All I know is that somewhere in the far reaches of my family tree the name of Baba Yaga herself is inscribed.The greatest of all witches..and yes she is truely not of this world."
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HAving dutifully berated his pony (in the lovingest manner possible] Trelck comes upon the group as they make their preparations.
Well Magrim knows that though our ancestors can affect us, they do not define us. So some indominable she-b*@*$ from some off world tundra be your line's sire, we all got trouble if you look far enough in the past. Action, aye that is where we shall live today. Let's task these fey and we'll take the first step to making our own stories!
Ykaterina will ask Mother Theodora for a place by her fireside for the night..she needs to bring nothing with her for now.
Wildir shambles off to find hedgerow to curl under somewhere.
The next morning, the group meets on the south road out of Heldren, ready to make the six-mile hike to the ambush site indicated by Yuln before he succumbed to exhaustion once more. It takes the group about three hours to cover the distance; as you walk, the air begins to grow noticeably cooler; those of you who purchased cold weather outfits from the town are suddenly exceedingly glad for them.
When you near the forest's edge, shadows grow on the road ahead. As you travel nearer, the shadows resolve into a road littered with debris and the corpses of the slain, human and horse alike. A single carriage stands in the middle of the roadway, its team of horses either deliberately freed or accidentally cut loose in whatever melee had engulfed the caravan. Another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken near to the tree line. To the south, more bodies have fallen around what looks like a statue of ice. Each of the corpses shows signs of cold exposure, mostly in the form of frostbitten extremities. A light dusting of snow covers the ground, an obvious trail leading from the ambush site to the edge of the Border Wood a short distance away.
Drew will check the bodies of the dead, as well as check them for valuables.
Wildir rubs himself over with a small patch of bear hide inuring himself to the chill. He follows behind the halfling, spear at the ready. "Carevul now little manling. Keep your eyes open."
Perception:
Hearing Wildir's caution, Drew keeps an eye on his surroundings as he searches the bodies.
Ykaterina's face indicates nothing as she surveys the Massacre site.
"We should arrange for the burial of these poor souls" she mutters mainly to herself then moves towards the Ice Statue.
Salvianella moans and complains about her great discomfort throughout the enitre trek, only silencing upon surveying the carnage of the scene before her. She bundles herself deeper into her furs and moves towards the carriage, her face a mask of shock and horror.
Most of the bodies, man and horse, lie pierced with small needles and shards of ice. The wrecked carriage has strewn a few boxes and chests around on the ground that have loosed some spare clothing which still seems to be in good shape; the kind of expensive clothing that courtiers wear.
The carriage that still stands shows signs of many arrow wounds from the battle that took place and, strangely, a spear has been wedged between the doors of the carriage to hold them shut. Muffled sounds of movement can be heard within, though the curtains themselves seem to be sealed shut somehow, preventing any of you from seeing what may be making the noises.
The ice statue, on the other hand, seems to be less a statue and more the frozen remains of of a man whose armor bears Taldan heraldry. Unfortunately, pieces of the captain have been carved off of his main body and now lie in very slowly melting chunks around his feet. One of the chunks, however, does seem to contain the majority of the man's arm, as well as the finely-crafted longsword he wielded at the time of his demise.