After nearly being rundown by a speeding carriage- was that the jittery alchemist inside?- Wildir reaches the town square and after a bit of snuffling around, detects the strong odor of dwarves and beer. He enters the inn grumbling and squinting at the assemblage.
Yurli scowls and adjusts his spectacles. He takes a drag from his pipe and continues to pour over his spellbook, attempting to study the spells contained therein and commit them to memory as his glasses keep fogging up from the cold.
"Bludy blasted coold, he grumbles to no one in particular. "In mah day, weather had enoof sense to keep wahm in the Soomer."
Drew is a little uncertain about all these dwarves that are joining the search party. He is a little intimidated, but still approaches the group.
"Umm..hello. I am Drew."
Wildir hawks up some phlegm to spit in an ornate spittoon and then scowls as he sits. He waves for a drink before turning back to Trelck. "Vell, ven are ve leafing?"
Yurli looks up over his glasses at the halfling in front of him and takes another puff of his pipe. "Yurli son of Yurli. You lot thaht band wot folks soying's gon' soive tha toown?"
"Ummm....yes??" Drew answers, a little unsure of exactly what the dwarf is saying, and still intimidated with all the dwarves about.
"Reet. Ahl be comin wi' theur, then," the dwarf replies, seemingly oblivious to Drew's confusion. "Getten um spells meight be useful for clearin up dis bloody cold."
Wildir pulls the matted hair from his bloodshot eyes to peer more closely at the dwarven stranger. "Goot. It is dangerous out dere. You look less jumpy den de udder vizard. Velcome." He extends dirty paw to Yurli.
"Yurli, son o' Yurli," Yurli responds with a puff of his pipe, though he does not take Wildir's hand. He closes his book with reverence and puts it nearly into his pack. With that he stands and claims his staff. It is a perfectly strait octagonal rod made of what appears to be a polished black stone covered in dwarven runes. The head-piece of the staff is a smallish, ornate hammer head in the shape of an anvil. "Well, when will we be leavin'?"
Wildir just shrugs as the dwarf declines a hand shake. "Dats vat I vas saying."
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Trelck gives Drew a re-assuring pat on the shoulder, We are prone to some intimidating streaks of loudness and the accent is more than horrible from some of the clans, as a traveler I know how it sounds. But you could do worse than to have more of my lot around. If they get too drunk just get behind me and I'll keep you dry and free of broken mug pieces. Trelck offers a cheerful snort as he drinks.
Yurli snorts. "Eur dwarf whoa can't od' 'is liquor need not be art 'n abaht."
Drew smiles, not sure if Trelck is making a joke, or actually warning him. Still he knows Dwarves are a hardy folk, and looks forward to working with this new "tribe". He wanders over to Wildir and looks over his new armor. "A fitting place for a beast that almost did us in! Are we ready to try this again? I hope there are no more of those little dragon-lizard things out there..."
Wildir is decidedly neutral in his response , "Vell, somtimes you eat de virm, sometime de virm eat you."
The group moves on, finding the trek back to the site where they were ambushed by the tatzlwyrm as uneventful as the journey returning to Heldren. It is clear that local creatures have scavenged pieces of that tatzlwyrm's corpse that were remaining as you pass, though the cold has kept it from decaying.
Still further you move, deeper and deeper into the woods, the trail turning a more northward direction. It doesn't take long for you to reach a section of the woods that seems eerily quiet. As you move closer, you notice feathered bundles and strange fetishes hanging from the lowest branches of the trees around you, swaying and shifting in the wind.
Wildir stops abruptly, sniffing at the wind, "Vitch verk, I vouldn't touch nothing. Let's just hope dey left some fresh tracks." Giving the dangling fetishes plenty of room, the shaggy northerner searches for tracks in the snow.
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Trelck frowns as the druid mentions "witch work". Noting the fetishes the dwarf pulls his shield and puts his hand hesitantly on his axe handle. Pausing for a second the warrior thinks better of it and instead draws out the cold iron longsword given to him by the waylaid Ulfen. Not be caught off guard again, I say.
Sondergang had shown an interest in all the points that they had passed.he had paused briefly at the Ambush site to say a prayer for the souls of the dead and the Wyrm's corpse had elicited no more than a grunt.
Now however the gruff sandy haired Dwarf hefts his Warhammer and grips the holy symbol of Torag tightly.
"Well said Lad, Ah'll give ye t' back oop tha needs"
Yurli huffs as he wipes the frost from his glasses. Then he pulls back out his pipe and lights it with a mumble and a click if his fingers. "Shoddy fettle. Can't learn propa magic. Uz owd dad allus sez if theur can't doa summa' t' reet way dooant doa it a' orl," Yurli says with a puff.
"Look creepy to me. Maybe just someone trying to scare people off?"
Drew looks over one of the figures, but does not touch them.
Knowledge religion to determine if the fetishes have religious significance
Upon closer examination, you see that what you initially thought to be just feathered fetishes are actually the frozen corpses of a number of crows, their bodies pierced by tiny arrows similar to those you found on the carriage guards at the edge of the Border Wood.
As you gaze at your surroundings, trying to determine the purpose of these strange bird corpses, a sudden rain of arrows falls around you! One hits the ground at Trelck's feet, the tiny sprite-sized arrow barely visible in the snow. Another strikes at Wildir's feet before a third follows it, the small projectile pricking the large man in his calf. While it does hardly any real damage, a sudden feeling of cold floods through the shaman's body, down to his very bones!
Wildir is scanning the snow when he suddenly straightens as a tiny arrow strikes his leg. With a panicked look in his eyes, he looks around for the attackers and then points above, "Fey!"
Wildir quickly loads his sling with a cold iron bullet and lets fly.
damage
Drew takes aim with his bow and lets fly.
Attack-Ranged:
Damage:
Yurli waves his hand in the air, forming complex geometric shapes that coalesce into dwarven runes in a flash of bright light. Then, grabbing up his staff, he smashes the glowing brand in the air with the hammer-shaped head of the staff causing a molten bolt to fly out towards one of the little monsters.
: .
Sondergang lifts his hammer high and calls upon Torag to help the party.
Casting bless duration 1 minute, +1 to all saves and attack rolls. He then drops the weapon and unslings his crossbow
The sprites dart off in different directions, one of them giving a high-pitched cry of pain as the magical darts fired by Yurli catch him in the back. The three head off in different directions, one disappearing behind a large tree. Moments later, the light reappears, joined by another from behind the same tree. The other two take another shot at the group!
The sprites seem to have completely changed targets this time, now targeting Yurli and Drew with their miniscule bows.
The attack against Drew misses, but the missile aimed at Yurli strikes him in the left shoulder, sending a wave of bitter cold through his body!
Wildir reloads his sling for another try at the little pests.
damage
:
Yurli snorts as the tiny "arrow" pierces his robes and draws blood. His brow furrows in anger as he waves his hand in the gestures to form the runes of his spell. "Shaman, od' still eur moa," he yells to Wildir. Yurli shuffles through the snow to the shaman's side and lays the glowing rune onto Wildir's sling. "'A' owt ta doa," he says, patting Wildir on the arm. "Naw ea' dis theur frigid lahl buggers!"
Sondergang loads his crossbow and takes careful aim.only to have the weapon go off prematurely and the bolt bury itself in a tree..
Round 2
Again Drew aims for one of the flitting creatures and releases his arrow.
Attack-Ranged:
Damage:
Drew's arrow flies true, piercing one of the sprites in his shoulder! The shot knocks the tiny fae off-balance, sending it spiraling downward a few feet...and just within range of Trelck.
Wildir's sling bullet finds a mark in one of the fae, the same one knocked about some by Yurli's magic missile. The projectile's release is timed perfectly enough to thump the sprite in the side of his skull as he flits about, killing him instantly, the lifeless body falling limp to the ground.
On the other side of the battle, Trelck's newly-borrowed longsword proves true to the words of the Northman who lent it to you, the blade cleaving the unfortunate fae in half, the two miniscule pieces falling to the ground with a small trail of blood following close behind.
Clearly outmatched, the remaining sprite gives a brief, high-pitched shout promising vengeance upon you and yours before disappearing into the trees as quickly as her wings will carry her.
Wildir waves Yurli off as he begins chanting, "Keep your unnatural magics to yourself. De sprites haf run off now."