Ratibor looks at his boots, a shadow passing over his expression. "They were, but they perished by other means. I failed them, in the end."
"You mentioned this configuration of the Hut. How many configurations are there? Are you only in this one? Is there anything special about this one other than the trials? Who were you at war with? How long ago was it?" Ozella shows no mercy when asking questions.
It is obvious that Ratibor would rather not detail events leading to his imprisonment by Baba Yaga, but he reluctantly gives a brief account of his past deeds. He is likely lying about some details but those familiar with the geography and history of Iobaria can piece together the story and place it in history. Ratibor was the warlord of a powerful barbarian clan whose armies numbered in the tens of thousands. His conquests took place between the lands from Okor's Basin in the northwest to the Fangard Forest in the east, from the Ardshrod River south to the Syrzemyan Highlands. Then the Choking Plague began to kill thousands in his army. In his negotiations with Baba Yaga, he promised to help her fight against the demon lord Kostchtchie. At this point, he appears to gloss over details, claiming only that Baba Yaga went back on her word and brought about his downfall and imprisonment.
The odd thing about his story is that the events he describes happened over 200 years ago. Yet, Ratibor talks about them as if they were in the recent past.
Hadda smiles at Dom's praise. She opens her mouth to explain that the knowledge of Taldane was only temporary, but it doesn't seem as important as continuing the conversation. The librarian follows suit with her gnome friend, popping a coffee bean from her spell pouch and grinding its bitterness as she prepares for further knowledge.
A pestilence. Well, Iobaria had been known for many plagues. So at least that made sense. But which army, and which battles? Hadda has most of the some questions as Ozella, and listens patiently at the reluctant warrior recounts his woes.
So this was that Ratibor, the one who had conquered most of Iobaria. Well there was an interesting development. Hadda makes a note to correct the record for the others based on what she learned as a girl, but also wonders about how much that Ratibor was saying was lies and omission and how much was a different understanding that the official tales of the skalds and history books.
Hadda also thinks carefully about what she has read about Kostchtchie.
"Out of curiosity," Hadda offers after the end of the talee, "What year do you believe it is? By Absalom Reckoning, if you know it, or another calendar if you don't."
The date Ratibor gives turns out to be about two centuries in the past.
The names of Kostchtchie and Baba Yaga figure prominently in Iobaria's ancient history. Kostchtchie was at one time a barbarian warlord, similar to Ratibor (but much earlier in history). His dreams of conquest, however, ran up against the witch queen and it is said she gave him immortality, but also kept a portion of his soul. Kostchtchie disappeared from legends and instead became an object of worship among some evil tribes of giants and centaurs in the wild parts of the old kingdom.
These worshippers believe Kostchtchie used his immortality to enter the Abyss and usurp one of the demon lords. Baba Yaga is considered by some of the inhabitants to be a kind of protector of the region against Kostchtchie's return. Toward that end, she erected three immense stone statues along a prominent ravine as sentinels It is said she can see through the eyes of the statues and will return if the area is again threatened by Kostchtchie or his servants. These statues, together, are referred to as Artrosa.
They are female figures: one young, one middle aged and pregnant, and the third an old crone. The statues are believed to have secret chambers built into them full of Baba Yaga's magic and perhaps treasures. The statues are not unguarded however, as the witch queen has maintained a system of followers to protect them, led by a warden, usually a powerful hag or witch.
Given the clues from the ravens, all who bear the mantle of Baba Yaga's servants sense that she left clues to where she was going in these statues. Getting to them seems to be the next step in their adventure.
"Perhaps history is repeating itself," Hadda offers. "If Kostchtchie aims to return to these lands or increase his dominion on the Material Plane, then we likely have giants and centaurs to contend with. And beyond that, with Baba Yaga indisposed, she would be unable to return upon the advancement of the renewed threat. Artrosa won't be undefended, but there very well could be a new conflict brewing there."
Hadda looks curiously at Ratibor. "Like you, they could well be compelled into service. It would be preferable to ally with them and only enter conflict with the servants of Kostchtchie, but we may not always have a choice."
Hadda checks the bundle of blank journals that she has in her bag. This would be an excellent opportunity to add a book to the libraries of the world: a tale of immortal beings and their servants waging war across the plains of Iobaria and deep within the tunnels of the earth. And alongside it, an ecological survey of a part of Iobaria rarely visited and little known. This could prove fruitful.
"Let's rest before we leave, and cook that boar." Hadda pauses and then addresses Ratibor once more. "Is your vigil in this room constant, or could you join us further in the hut for a feast? We have a beast just waiting for a good slow roast."
Ratibor prefers to leave his post just to get food from one of the crates which he eats while keeping watch. He looks very interested in having the roasted boar, but prefers if it is brought to him so he doesn't have to leave his post for long.
While it's far from her area of expertise, Hadda offers scattered tidbits to whomever might have better knowledge of these things.
She also promises to bring Ratibor a plate when they're done.
Dom has been listening to the historical discussions beween Hadda and Ratibor, and his attitude about Ratibor's secret starts to change. He thinks he understands in part why Ratibor might want to gloss over the details.
"I don't think you failed your army. How could you have, when you bound yourself to Baba Yaga's service to save them from the Choking Plague? Whatever happened to them after that was out of your hands. As someone who was taught a guardian's spirit, I'd probably blame myself too if I were in your shoes. But standing from here, it's pretty clear whatever happened to them is not your fault. Even if they fell in battle, it was better to die a warrior's death than to have one's life drained away from disease."
Dom hopes that some time and maybe a plate of boar meat will get the warlord to open up about the past.
Crasius holds off on pulling out his rations but looks distrustful at those preparing the boar.
"If you're set on doing this... well, remember that with regular boar meat, you can find tracks in the muscle tissue to indicate worms. Cysts develop around the eggs. You need to remove that tissue or else people can get parasites."
"I have heard that Infernal boar mead can definitely be incredible in flavor, but there is risk of disease. If cooked with enough skill it's fine. Purification magic would make it safe as well, but likely change the taste." Ingrit says as she studies the meat, looking at the striations in the muscle and the fat distribution.
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Hadda goes back over to the cauldron room where the boar is currently lying, tuskless and with some initial preparation work done by Hadda. "Although we lack Baba Yaga's library, I see six creative people with sufficient ingenuity. A hunter. An herbalist. A knight. A pyromancer. A minstrel. And a librarian. Surely between all of our experience and knowledge we can muster a feast."
She smiles at Crasius and needles him a bit. "What would Kahina do?"
And so the librarian sets to work building a fire for the cauldron, directing the others to form a proper spit, or to rustle for provisions in the crates to find herbs for optimal flavor. She defers to Ozella and Crasius for the dueling superior knowledge of flame. She asks for assistance from Rurik and Ingrit in identifying cysts and preparing the boar for cooking. She tasks Domitian with more of the preparation of other ingredients to go in the pot, anything that that they can find in the crates. "Preferably root vegetables, if you can. Carrots, potatoes, and the like."
With Rurik, she considers the possibilities of a trained herbalist. "A bottle of wine, perhaps, to further flavor the vegetables and pour over the boar? And then, oh, what herbs do you think accentuate boar normally versus what do we envision enhancing this delicacy?" By this point, she has become tipsy with her own wine, and her demeanor relaxes. Her vocabulary remains almost irritatingly elevated, but she frequently laughs to herself after stumbling over polysyllabic words.
Soon she is directing the kitchen, checking on everyone's progress, and getting the cooking going. The smells are intoxicating, and she begins writing down notes from everyone else's comments. With such a bevy of experts here, whether this turned out well or poorly, it would be irresponsible to not document the process. Either it would be a recipe to send off and challenge other intrepid adventurers, or it would be a cautious lesson of what not to do.
Rurik says slowly, "Well... if you cook with wine, it imparts some flavor, but it also helps by soaking into the food and boiling away during the cooking process. This helps to tenderize the meat and keep it moist as it cooks. For herbs, I'd recommend a garnish of parsley, and seasoning with coriander and caraway, if available. Those might not be in the supplies, we can always fall back on garlic, onions, or shallots."
"Collecting ingredients--sounds like something I can actually do!" Dom searches around for anything useful amidst the supplies available. "Here's something! Onions, maybe?" He cuts one open and begins to cry. "Definitely onions!" Apparently swordsmanship does not translate to culinary knife skills, but Dom gets the job done eventually after fighting back tears.
As the feast is about to begin, Dom makes sure everyone has a glass of wine, then raises a toast, looking each of Crasius, Ozella, and Hadda in the eye. "To victory! The first of many to come!"
He downs a couple of large gulps, then continues. "So, now that we've forged a new adventuring group, what shall we name ourselves?"
Crasius:
Dom:
Hadda:
Ingrit:
Ozella:
Rurik:
Although the supplies on hand are not ideal for fine dining, consisting of a lot of root vegetables and dried meat, a well aged bottle of wine, lots of garlic, and slow roasting produces a fine meal.
Ratibor enjoys the meal, having subsisted for most of his time as guardian of the hut on jerky and boiled potatoes.
Zorka helps with the cooking. She overhears the group discussing the situation with Ratibor and tells the group that the secret to releasing Ratibor from his guardian chore was in a cookbook Baba Yaga took with her when she left the hut.
Hadda grins at Rurik. "You seemed like the right person to ask. We'll trust Dom to find the right things and make do with whatever he discovers." She jots a few more notes down and then goes to uncork a bottle from Baba Yaga's stash. She thanks Zorka for the tip about Baba Yaga's cookbook and makes a note to look for it as they travel.
---
Hadda raises a glass with Dom, lounging near the fireplace, before taking a long drink. His next question surprises her, and she chuckles. "A name, mmm? There is power in names. Knowing an outsider's true name enables one to summon and bind them to your current plane of existence. And there are enough tales of people providing their name to a fey trickster only to lose it in the exchange."
She fixes a pointed stare at Zorka for a moment, then chuckles and takes another drink. "Does a group name itself, or do the bards who tell their tale after their glorious victory--or spectacular demise--provide the eternal sobriquet? Lucky for us, there are two bards in our number, the better to carry our story to the world. And so what, then? Hailing from many locales makes a single denonym over-restrictive. The only shared background we all have is this quest. And I take it various conversational clues that we have a multitude of attitudes regarding our service to the Queen of Witches." The librarian pauses at this point and arches an eyebrow, as though encouraging the others to elaborate on this point should they so choose, before continuing. "Thus we are an amalgam, a composite, an intermingling. An unfused chimera. Those are all terrible names, of course."
She finishes her glass and stumbles up to pour herself another. "Have you all called yourselves anything previously? Earned yourselves a name like the Heralds of Summer's Return back in Whitethrone? Or is this a new tradition to embark on?"
Putting every bit of her survival skills to work, with the combined knowledge of her companions yields the best meal she can remember in a very long time, along with an opportunity to truly relax, bizarre given the circumstances.
Enjoying the meal, wine and company, she listens to her companions discuss names, considering what they'd been through so far and what likely lay ahead, here in Iobarria.
"Perhaps, The Bearer's of Winter's Mantle?" she suggests taking another sip of her wine. [b]"We carry the mantle of The Riders after all, and it was this unnatural winter that started it all."
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The boar is the size of a large horse while the heart is only about four feet across, so there is much left over meat yet to be cooked. Ratibor asks if they might smoke some of the meat so he can enjoy it after they leave.
"Oh, I may have tried this once before, but I'm not sure if we ever decided on a name. It turns out we already worked with a group called the Heralds of Summer in our journeys, so I don't want to copy that. But I like the thought. Something to do with spring, summer, or warmth is surely the right approach."
Hadda has no stellar ideas about smoking meat, but agrees that it's a good idea and works with the others on the project while the naming conversation continues.
"If we are trying to prevent eternal winter from spreading, or indeed return the seasons to their natural cycle, then a warmer or more verdant name may be appropriate." She laughs to herself, remembering a druid that she, Crasius, and Ozella had traveled with for a time.
She pauses, thinking. "How do you all feel about alliteration, or rhyming? Verdant vindicators or vernal colonels. No, no, not those. Too on the nose."
With a brief gaze towards Zorka, Hadda chooses her words carefully and continues. "Well, other than the mantle, why are each of us here?" Hadda reasons out that even after a short time, circumstances were sufficient for her to let her guard down a bit and be more forthcoming. "I was not completely forthcoming with the Animate Dream of Yelizaveta. Yes, the winter is troublesome, but I am here to further our collective knowledge. We have already witnessed a fraction of Baba Yaga's library. I want to meet the person who accumulated all of that."
"I'm here completely unexpectedly. Was enjoying my time in Taldor when it suddenly started snowing--in the summer! Figured my sword could take care of that. Did not figure that I'd end up walking through a portal to Irrisen, and taking a hut to Iobaria. Not that it's been completely terrible. Father is an Ulfen Guard, born in the north. Guess I've been learning a bit about my roots--it's been invigorating!"
"What if we call ourselves the Helboars? An inside joke between the lot of us." Dom continues to much down on surprisingly delicious infernal pork, washed down with cheap wine. "Or the Hellslayers if we'd rather be the victors than the victims!"
Dom seems more than happy to smoke the rest of the massive pig to make sure Ratibor has a little bit of diversity to his diet. He shares the strange information about Baba Yaga's cookbook "If we ever find this cookbook of Baba Yaga's, we'll return and grant you your freedom."
"I think Hellboars works well enough. A party name would be grand for the telling of our tales one day. But I am not sure I wish to know everything that is in Baba Yaga's cookbook, even if this boar turned out pretty good." Crassius says with a dramatic grimace as he imagines what might be in the ancient witches cookbook.
"is that the cookbook titled 'How to Serve Man'?" asks Rurik wryly.
Ozella mostly listens as she eats. Despite having apparently been raised in an establishment that served food, she didn't seem all that willing to jump in on the cooking. Instead, she helped get the dishes and drinks ready as a way to help.
"I like Hellboar. Granted, that boar could have had ancestral ties to Abaddon or the Abyss, but Hellboar sounds better than the other options." Ozella says quietly,
"I'm here for my uncle, Fongledoytch. He's an adventurer, well known throughout the Gnome community. Traveled the world, fighting evil, righting wrongs, being a proper Caydenite. The last time he came home, he had started Bleaching, said he had a run in with Baba Yaga a long time ago, and she cursed him. That's why I'm trying to find her, so she can break it and he can go on with his worry free life. That or become strong enough to break the curse myself."
Hadda's eyes widen and she looks from Domitian to Rurik to Ingrit, then back to Rurik. "Hell boar. Like Hellebore. That is actually quite appropriate, don't you think, Rurik?"
If asked to specify, she launches into an overly-detailed diatribe about the Hellebores flower, drawing connections from etymology to herbology and getting more excited as she goes. With a series of (probably unnecessary) caveats, she discusses how one purported origin of the word is that deers--not unlike Wapiti--eat them, how it's often called the Winter rose (though it's not a rose, and blooms all year long), and how it could be favored by Milani. There's also a minor noble family in Taldor, she recalls, taking their name from the flower. "This is one of my favorite examples of wordplay that I have encountered!" she exclaims.
Hadda chuckles ruefully at Rurik's suggestion, but knows that Baba Yaga could well have such a book. Not the kind of knowledge that Hadda was particularly interested in, though she imagines that some--giants in particular--would probably be curious.
"Hellebore... hmm. I see what you did there," says Rurik, thinking and rubbing his chin. "Of course if we had, like, flags and tabards, the picture would be that flower. Which is nice, it's a pretty kind of flower, I like the white-and-lavender. Could be confusing since I already have the rose theme going on." He chuckles.
Dom is definitely confused as the discussion of Hellboars goes in the direction of flowers, but he shrugs. It seems like everyone was enthusiastic about the name for their own reasons. "It's settled then. May our enemies tremble before the wrath of the Hellboars!" Dom raises another toast, which seems like another excuse to down his wine.
Hadda raises her glass in toast, beginning to think of such flags and tabards. They would doubtful have time to sew or paint anything, but maybe a commission.
After eating and drinking her fill, the librarian falls asleep with a quill in her hand, snoring lightly as the scrawl of remaining ink drifts lazily down the page.
When the others begin discussing thier reasons for being there, Ingrit, perhaps because of the wine, or finally having a moment where they weren't constantly trying to survive, is unusually forthcoming.
"I was born in Irrisen. My mother was killed by one of the queen's death squads when I was 7, and I survived with my father in the wilds, hunting and acting as a wilderness guide until I was 18." she says somberly, taking a moment to have another sip of wine. "When he was killed by raiding bandits, and I got away, barely surviving, I decided I'd had enough of Irrisen and worked my way south. That's how I made it to Heldren where all of this started. Never thought it would all lead me here...though getting to bring some kind of justice to those vile frigid witches has been worth it."
Staring into the fire for a moment she drains her glass. "So I suppose my goals are vengeance, and putting an end to the winter that endangers the lives of people who just want to live their lives, and never asked for any of this."
She nods at the name Hellboars/Hellebores personally being fond of one of the few flowers common in the wilds of Irrisen in the dead of winter. Refilling her glass, she raises it to the Dom's toast, "To the Hellboars!"
Nothing disturbs the sleep of the Hellboars except Fisk scratching his claws on some firewood near the hearth where he had been sleeping.
Nothing indicates how much time has passed, but the heroes awake, more or less rested, and prepare spells, gear, and pack some of the more palatable food.
When all are ready, they proceed to the door to the exterior of the hut. There are two windows on either side of the door and two more windows affording a view to the left and right. The hut is situated in a forested area, amid a small clearing. The nearest trees are about 40 feet away from the front porch. It is daylight outside. Ratibor says it is an hour or so after dawn. He has seen no one outside the hut since daybreak.
Ratibor informs the group that as long as they stay on the front porch of the hut, they can re-enter, but if they leave the porch, he is magically bound to attack them if they try to come back through the door. He does not seem happy about this.
Standing on the porch, Ingrit looks out at the surrounding area, taking note of the placement of the sun in the sky, the weather and the likely cardinal directions to get a feel for where in Iobaria they might be.
Ozella thinks hard about Ratibor's conundrum, but comes up empty. "I don't really want to fight you, either. You're a fine guardian and you've been dealt abad hand. We'll try to think of a way to circumvent us having to fight next we meet. Until then, do your best."
Following Ingrit's lead, she also tries to figure out where the hut has transported them.
Hadda also moves out onto the Porch, not ready to leave just yet until she and her allies have a heading of where to go. Iobaria is a very large country, and so exactly where they are could be tricky. She has gathered her books and scrolls, excited for what these lands hold!
Dom shakes Ratibor's hand as he prepares to leave. "I too hope that we find a way to release you from your bondage. Guard the hut well."
He naturally looks around for any danger.
Crasius casts a spell and then nods to the man knowing there was a good chance they would not have such a pleasant meeting in the near future. He then heads out to see where the hut was currently at.
AC 15
Giant: (range 120 ft.)
Crasius:
Domitian:
Hadda:
Ingrit:
Ozella:
Rurik:
Enemy:
Those venturing out onto the porch looking for clues as to their whereabouts find few landmarks to help them. They are in a clearing of a forest of tall conifers that block the view of the horizon. No high mountain peaks can be seen, so the hut could be virtually anywhere near the Crown of the World, although nothing refutes the hypothesis that they are in Ioboria.
The weather is cold, even though, assuming no time shifts when the hut moved, they still should be in summer. Summers in Iobaria are rarely warm. A thin layer of snow covers the clearing and deeper snow drifts are along the bases of the trees nearby. It is overcast, so it is not clear which way north might be.
As sharp-eyed as Crasius and Dom are, they fail to notice an enemy who has hidden himself behind a rock. He reveals himself by hurling a large rock and then advancing on the hut. A rock the size of a large backpack hits Crasius, leaving him bloodied.
The enemy is about twelve feet tall, with blue-tinted skin and hair. As he advances he draws a greataxe which is a good six feet long.
He advances, bellowing in a strange language (to some), "Атака! Слава ждет!" Tree branches around the clearing begin to move.
Round 1 Initiative Order.
Ingrit & Wapiti
Crasius (Greater magic weapon, Heroism)
Hadda
Ozella (ant haul, mage armor, heightened awareness)
Dom
Rurik
Enemy
Crasius:
Hadda:
Ingrit:
Ozella:
Ingrit an Ozella recognize the enemy. Ingrit can look at 1 spoiler, Ozella at 2. Both can read the general info. If Hadda has any special abilities relating to Lore Checks, let me know. She missed this roll by 3.
Frost giants survive on hunting and raiding alone, as they live in desolate, frigid environments. Frost giant groups are split almost evenly between those that live in makeshift settlements or abandoned castles and those that roam the frozen north as nomads in search of spoils and provisions. Frost giant leaders call themselves jarls and demand absolute obedience from their followers. At any time a jarl may be challenged by combat for leadership of the tribe. These challenges typically result in the death of one of the combatants. A single jarl can often count a dozen or more smaller frost giant tribes as part of his extended tribe. In such a situation, the leaders of the lesser tribes are known simply as chieftains or warlords.
Frost giants love to take captives, and use them for food as well as slaves and commodities. Every group of frost giants typically has 1–2 humanoid slaves shackled to a slave handler—usually the meanest and cruelest non-jarl in the group. They are also quite fond of monstrous pets—white dragons and winter wolves are popular choices, but remorhazes, yetis, and even linnorms can be found dwelling in a frost giant lair.
As a rock comes flying to the porch, Hadda's eyes widen and she curses in Iobarian.
"He's calling for an attack! I doubt he's alone!"
Hadda raises her hands and traces a rune through the air. The same symbol glows in front of each of her companions' heads for a moment as a wisp of flame before blinking out.
"Take courage," she says. "We will not be defeated this day!"
Crasius leaps back shift and tumbling to avoid the giants huge axe before launching an arrow back at the monstrous creature.
Seeing the charging giant, Ingrit explodes into action, sending a flurry of arrows at the charging giant, her first pair of shots clustered for extra effectiveness.
"If you have any spells that make fire, use them! It hurts them!
With a snort, Wapiti lowers his head and charges at the oncoming giant bringing his mighty rack of antlers to bear.
Dom is a bit slower to act, but begins his own advance toward the foolhardy giant in their midst. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall!"
;
He will attempt to parry any attacks that come his way.
Ozella moves into a good position to roast the Ice Giant, staying slightly behind Dom but not putting him directly into the line of fire.
Quite literally, as it turned out. Holding out the hand not carrying her spellbook, Ozella traced a rune in the air which burst forth a gout of flames 30 feet long and passed along the Ice Giant's skin.
"Any weapon will do, just hit it hard!"
DC 16
Fire damage: 25
Hadda sends magical benefits to everyone and follows it up with an inspirational saying.
Crasius tumbles back out of reach of the giant's greataxe but this puts him off balance as he shoots his arrow and the missile sails wide.
Ingrit and Wapiti wait for the inspirational words and magic of Hadda to start their attacks. Ingrit's arrows pierce the giant's thick hide.
Wapiti charges at the giant, but he swings his axe at him and wounds him before the elk's impressive rack of antlers drives into his side.
Ozella scampers out onto the porch and sends an impressive line of flames at the giant, who is too slow to avoid the worst of it.