He then wanders off rolling his nuts in his hand.
Muli makes his way back to his pack and what was to be their camp. He will see about building a new fire, seeing that the other is full of dead people.
Luke will take 20 on a survival check to help set up camp for a total of 26.
I will take the first watch.
The eve passes uneventfully as the pyre of the Hoar-Gasts and your own camp fire seem to provide ample security and warmth throughout the night.
By morning you are ready to make the push towards Little Icerime and Quern’s Hermitage. The morning is crisp but calm, but in the distance forboding clouds cap the Icerime Mountains;
Starday 13th Lamashan (Late Autumn)
Dawn on the frosty tundra of Berghof
Tundra
Mountains
Storm Length
You discern that the weather on the tundra will remain cold, crisp and calm... However the Icerime range looks wracked with the telltale clouds of a impending snowstorm that you reckon will last for at least 3 hours...
Luke looks to the heavens and the peaks in contemplation, and then he addresses the group.
A snow storm is brewing and should hit once we síðaþ into the peaks. It will læstaþ for three hours.
Rising from giving Liten Mun a playful box around the ears "Only three hours?.... barely worth mentioning..."
Skølrykk shrugs, pulling his hood back into place.
Firing off two channels.
Luke ranges ahead and to each flank in rout to the hermitage.
Perception:
The weather draws in as you approach the rough location of Quern’s Hermitage. Reputed to sit in the shadow of Little Icerime, the most Northern peak of note within the Icerime range, Quern’s home is little more than a cave... Yet throughout Iobaria the old sage’s knowledge of the cold realm’s history, flora and fauna is beyond censure.
The snow storm swirls around you all and the cold bites deep. Ahead a high cliff of mountainous rock that forms Little Icerime’s western face rises majestically above you. On a ledge around 50 feet up you can see a winch and platform, and to the left of the winch a fast flowing mountain stream trickles from the icy rocks above.
The winch and platform is raised. Before you hail the hermit, movement ahead of you all – some 20ft attracts your attention; it appears to be a half frozen, shivering humanoid – coated in snow and rime...
The form ahead of you clutches a bow in mitted hands and gives off short gasps of breath, as if in pain or fear...
The figure is a familiar one... Petrik; your peer, braggard and erstwhile messenger from the village...
Your sharp eyes notice the mountain streams crisp water is tainted with red...
Perception:
Spying the approaching figure, a quick hand signal sends Liten Mun to ground behind the rocks. Calling out as he brings skaggig afore him "Hail stræ, come ye from Querns?" skeptical as the last traveler was less than kind.
Muli peering through the snow comes to recognize a figure crouched ahead, and also the red sign of trouble. He calls out, "Petrik! What are you doing? Where is Quern?"
He continues staring, awaiting a response. He pulls a stuffed Arctic Hare off his pack in case Petrik is another Hoar-ghast.
Luke immediately draws his Axe and approaches to within ten feet of Petrik.
Petrik, are you ok?
If the frozen figure is indeed Petrik, he fails to answer, only shaking uncontrollably from the biting cold or fear...
He merely purses his gloved finger to blue tinged lips with a look of terror and panic;
”shhhhh... the sc-sc-sc-scinn-clúd will g-g-g-geáscian...”
He then points slowly upwards towards the cliff edge.
The blood seeps from above and leaves crimson strands through the crystal clear mountain water. You discern that there must be a great deal of blood above to leave even these faint trails...
The cliff top is some 50ft. above. Apart from the howling wind and snow, little else is clear.
You spot some telltale yellow snow near Kustnir’s runner; clearly the lad is petrified by what he has seen and fear hs loosened his water...
Luke moves close to petrik and wraps him in a winter blanket.
Can you help him at all, Kev?
He draws his bow and creeps closer to the cliff to determine a method up the side at O-10.
Perception:
Moving forward with Luke to look over the youngling with Liten Mun still at his heel. "Bieldu youngling, we are here. Where is this scinn?" Ragnar scans ahead...
Perception:
...and taking heed of the words, stows Skäggig across his back and draws Alfr Smärta from the scabbard at his side. Smoothing a hand over the dulled cold forged iron of the sword he murmurs a short prayer against the predations of the evil eye.
The cold bite has clamped his maw on him, let me see what I can do.
Unpacking his bedroll, Kevkul unfurls it, wrapping the boy.
Perception:
Heal:
"Something spilled a lot of blōd up there, something more than just a scinn."
Muli pulls a turtle shell out of his pack. He gives it a good shake, giving off a sloshing sound with some small bits rattling the shell. He pops the cork where the head should be and takes a long draft.
He sputters out a gagging cough. Once recovered, he pulls back his glove to peer appreciatively at the back of his hand that takes on the qualities of a turtle shell. Those around him see this effect on his face.
"Iff'n we are going up there, I have one more brew to drink."
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"OK, Step back, Muli needs room for this one."
Muli shakes off his gloves to leave them dangling from his sleeves and he pulls a silver snuff box out, gives it a shake and partially slides open the lid. Putting the box to his nose, he takes a deep snort and bends over coughing and sneezing.
His arms extend from his sleeves and the hair seems to grow even thicker. His hands stretch longer and his cracked and yellow finger nails grown even longer into white fresh claws. He even gets taller as his ankles seem to stretch and his legs develop a backward bent. His mustache grows to full blown whiskers and his teeth elongate into sharp fangs.
Standing amongst the group is now a human-sized pine marten wearing Muli's clothes and pack. It fur brindled in a tortoise pattern. In Muli's voice but with a squeek-quality to it. "Oh that hurts! But should be good for getting up them clúd."
Acting as if nothing unnatural has just occurred, he lopes over to Petrik, and gets in his face "Oy Petrik. Grab your senses and tell us what's up there. Where is Quern?"
Skølrykk watches, his mouth agape. He lowers his spear slightly but a look of relief passes over his face as he hears the Muli-beast speak.
Skølrykk is not the only one taken aback by Muli’s transformation; cold, fearful Petrik’s eyes go wide and he only snaps from his torpor when the man sized Mulistelid stands before him;
”Q-Q-Quern..? Quern..! Th-h-h-he sage is cwala! I don't know wh-wh-wh-what it was. It... w-w-wears a wintergewæde of b-b-b-b-bleófágan like the tundra , it uses the beorg...”
He glances fearfully towards the lip of the cliff;
It... the st-stánas, they...they came alive, slite him... I ran... the ege came upon me and I ran... and hid like a mus...”
The runner collapses in a fit of sobs.
Hidden amongst the mountainside, your keen eyes see a creature, mansized but rough hewn, its hide like mottled moss, stone and snow. Its cruel eyes glint, but it seems unaware of your detection as it sits hunched on the edge of Quern's clifftop observing your arrival...
Taking Muli's transformation in his stride... though still making a warding gesture... Ragnar listens to the boys tale, before turning to the others to ken their intended plan.
Luke puts a finger to his lips, turns his back to the ledge, and points to a moss and stone creature using his body to block the gesture.
He whispers to the others...
We are watched...prepare for battle...
Luke switches to his Log Bow as nonchalantly as possible.
Perception:
Skølrykk Dråthenborn can't see anything past Muli's whiskers...
Rock Trow!? Kevkul points to the observing figure on the mountainside. Readying his crossbow to be close at hand, Kevkul readies to confer blessings just in case combat comes closing in.
He takes a good look at the transformed Muli, trying not to accidentally put a bolt in his back once chaos erupts.
Though the snow and wind impair your view, those of you aware of the creature watch it as it silently observes you...
As he hunkers to gain warmth Petrik’s relieved voice whispers from beneath the blanket;
”Not a rokk trow I think... but gelíc... smaller... nastier... but not an iss trow, this...this... egesa is something else, something onwendan...”
At Kevkul’s comment, and Petrik’s answer some with a ken of the trow may discern more;
This creature could well be a Rokk Trow, but exhibits traits more associated with the smaller Iss Trow... Crossbreeds while rare, are not unheard of in legend and tale, but tend to be cruel maneaters...
Clearly confident that the snow storm will impede any ranged threat, the creature sits impassively, before nonchalantly reaching back to retrieve something pale, edged with crimson;
Your keen eyes catch a brief glimpse a pale, severed human hand before sharp yellowed teeth bite down hard upon it...
It seems in no hurry...
You reckon the 30ft. cliff face is scaleable, but the snow and ice could make such a traverse rather treacherous... and at the top more unnatural hazards would await... It would be a DC20 climb check every 10 feet
Luke looks back to the others and yells over the wind.
Climbing the clif will be very difficult! Ranged attacks nigh on impossible! Skølrykk, can ye draw it down?
Luke changes to his Greataxe.
Perception:
Knowledge Nature:
Perception:
I cannot say! Skølrykk calls back, trying to find the beast through the snow.
I would rather not climb up and leave myself open to its attacks! Is there another way up? He asks, moving to investigate.
He goes around the to the Northeast to see if there is anther way to get up without doing it right in front of the creature's nose.
Perception:
Knowledge (Nature):
Perception:
Noting the attempts and failures of his compatriots to find a means to bring the fight to the trow, Ragnar unlimbers the shield from his back - strapping it to his arm and moving forwards.
Pointing in the direction of where the trow is lurking with his sword he bellows at it in Jotunn "Mocskos állat. miért nem jössz próbálja néhány igazi hús-, vagy félsz"
No apparent route presents itself, but a decent climbing route does present itself in F20. It is higher than the cliff lip at around 40ft. but would give you higher ground on the trow...
Drawing on your jotunn lore from the hearth you recall that Iss Trow sometimes work as mercenaries, and often serve as soldiers in monstrous armies. They frequently ally with frost jotunn, and can even be found amongst the tribes of Irrisen.
Iss trow enjoy the taste of human flesh, and those not working with humans frequently set traps near civilized areas to catch their favorite prey. They will also raid isolated settlements for food, often bringing captured humans back to their icy lairs, where the unfortunate victims are caged and fattened up before finally being devoured by the voracious trow.
In combat, iss trow are more cautious than normal trow. They do not normally rush headlong into battle, instead focusing on weaker foes or those bearing fire...
If crossbred with a rokk trow, this beast may also possess increased toughness to offset a possible weakness to daylight...
At Ragnar’s challenge the trow angrily splutters finger morsels down towards your group.
The jotunn howls back;
The brute’s laugh is lost in the storm’s gale, but his mocking stance is clear as he brazenly leers over the cliff lip while brandishing a large hook-like weapon at you with a crimson stained grin...
"Come little Northmen I peel your iron skins and feast upon your soft innards! Come climb to Gorruk! The sage has awoken his appetite!"
"Ragnar? You gewill to grow like Jotunn? Muli can make this. Or any others? Just drink this or Muli will." Muli holds up a Elk hoof and gives it a shake. "You grow big as Eolh, but no worry, not make you Eolh..Hahaha", chuckles the talking weasel. The hoof seems to have a wax plug in the top.
He then drops his pack an fishes out various items and stuffs his pockets
Skølrykk Dråthenborn goes around to try to climb up from another angle and flank the troll. At the bottom of the cliff, he drops his pack and leans his spear against the cliff.
Stealth:
Climb:
Scrabbling around with his hands, he is unable to find purchase and appears to simply be jumping around at the bottom of the cliff.
Climb:
Luke watches Skølrykk carefully, and begins to follow.
He attempts to climb up in the same spot.
Climb:
Climb:
Climb:
Ragnar shakes his head at Muli's offer before mulling the jotunn's words. To Luke and Skolrykk "Nay men, keep below lest ye give the trow easy pickings one by one."
Bellowing back at the trow
Regardless of whether he heeds Ragnar’s advice or not Skølrykk makes little or no headway up the slippery mountainside. Luke on the other hand scales the icy slope surefooted like the mountain goat...
Ragnar’s taunting continues at the fell trow, which clearly begins to anger; slashing its cruel hook across the ice as crimson drool drips from its maw.
With that the trow lumbers towards the winch, grunting as it pulls a stiff level allowing the platform to drop heavily into the snow in at the foot of the cliff.
The trow grins hungrily and waves you all in with his hook...
Skandináv Értem egyetlen asszonyok , gyerekek és -uk kisállat itt! Jön enged Gorruk segít ön követ neki vacsorára! = Northmen? I see only women, children and their pet here! Come let Gorruk help you join him for supper!
Luke, undecided based upon the voice of Ragnar carrying over the wind, begins his descent.
Climb:
Climb:
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Muli quaffs from the hoof and grows greatly in size.
"Muli most nagyobb, mint te és a szaga is jobban. Chicka-chicka-chickka" Muli finishes with some rodent verbalizations and chatter.
Is Jotunn = Hungarian? That was the closest match I could find.
Never mind climbing, I will take the lift. Skølrykk says, bringing his belongings back over to the rest.
Luke continues his climb.
See ya at the top Skølrykk.
Intimidate:
Ragnar tries to hold the attention of the trow, spitting to the side and delivering a hangman's grin "Ön egy beltenyésztett szar volt, amikor megszülte az anyád törölte ki minket a seggét. Nem Jotun fogja szolgálni veled, senki lehetővé tenné, menedéket. A szánalmas az élet véget ér a kardom, és nem lesz senki sem sírni az Ön múlását." before moving slowly and with intent to the lift, blade low to the ground "Most húzza föl és ízét a acélból"
Now pull me up and taste my steel
Initiative:
Kevkul
Luke
Muli
Ragnar
Skølrykk
Gorruk
After a second effort Luke scales the icy wall and finds himself balanced upon the slippery mountainside.
Ragnar staunchly marches to the lowered platform drawing a leering grin from the trow;
Then Gorruk begins to slowly crank the handle, and the platform lurches upwards. Ragnar feels the beast strength as it pulls him upwards...
Luke 22
Muli & Ragnar 16
Gorruk 14
Skølrykk 8
Kevkul 6
Brave Northman! Gorruk's kind have dined on your marrow since time began... huur-huur! Come let me wash the sage down with a gallon of your thin blood!