Skelg looks around at Wei Tchak's words, seeing the rest of you behind Natalya.
"The Pathfinders?" He says, remembering the conversation from earlier, as he tries to sit up. He's not quite up to the task.
"That looks like Glacier Lake." He adds, a moment later in surprise.
He glances back at you then laughs.
"The Cold is indeed gone... though could still use a hot drink and a warm fire. Would seem Adril picked the right team for the task!"
He once more surveys the chaotic scene around him, including the broken ship covered in broken ice, floating in an icy lake in an an icier country, far from where he fell asleep only hours before.
"Must be some story." He adds before leaning back again exhausted.
During all this, Natalya has stepped back, and remained quiet, standing stoically, her hands clasped in front of her, as if nothing unusual were going on. Doing her best to appear like she is indifferent to it all. Only a trained eye would note her anxiety.
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"You...could say that," Nella chuckles, happy to see both Masym and Skelg faring much better. "The short version is that we tracked down Bengeirr to the warehouse him and his men were hiding the lantern as well as all of the stuff they'd stolen from you, gave them a good thrashing, and got the lantern back."
She pauses for a moment to gaze around, having never in her wildest dreams imaged that she'd find herself so far north of her homeland. "We figured out how to work it from papers we found in Bengeirr's ship. That led us to this ship, from the tapestry in your storage room. Then from...wherever the ship was stranded, to here - Glacier Lake," she finishes.
"But you know...I still feel like we're missing a few clues here," she continues. "Natalya - Skelg saved you and your ship from burning and so you gave him all of the Hadyr's other possessions...and Bengeirr took offense to that and came all the way to Varisia to get revenge - is that pretty much right?"
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Malusha shivers almost uncontrollably in the cold climate. He hears Natalya describe the situation and tries to figure it out. But his chattering teeth seem to be a huge distraction. Finally he breaks down and casts Endure Elements on himself.
"There. I feel so much better." he says while rubbing the chill out of his arms.
Natalya glances over, doing her best to appear aloof now that Skelg is awake. "Bengeirr? I know nothing ov that one's actions. I vas..." She glances around at the ship and the broken ice. "... indisposed."
"Though sounds like him."
You tell Skelg the story of what transpired to get him here, in the middle of Glaciar Lake with Natalya. He and the Irrisen woman listen with interest.
"I suppose Tyros will be a little put out." He says, with a laugh. "I'll try to patch things over. For a little fellow, the man can hold a grudge. I should probably give him a raise."
Natalya looks dismayed. "So you vill leaf then?" She blurts out, "Thought perhaps you might stay a vhile."
She blushes slightly at the outburst, and Skelg looks back surprised.
"Well, it will be a while before I've recovered fully." He concedes after a moments hesitation. "I suppose a little of Irrisen's cold air might be good for me."
"When I'm breathing it in, not out." He adds with a rueful smile. "Good thing its summer. Gets right nippy in these parts come winter time."
"But they can not stay." He indicates the rest of you. "Whitethrone is no place for Pathfinders. Especially ones that stick out like they will, looking like that."
Natalya does her best to conceal her pleasure at this, and quickly finds a distraction to hide her faint smile.
"Then ve must get them home too! Come, quickly." She says to others. "I do not know vhen the city will come investigate. Best to see you on your way."
You wonder if she might just wish to have some alone time with Skelg.
She gathers up the lantern, and leads the way back to the mast on the rear side of the ship. "I vould haf you take the Beacon with you." She offers, pitching her voice a bit lower then necessary. "A revard for your efforts." You suspect perhaps it might be more to give Skelg fewer excuses to leave quickly as she hands the lantern over with a mischievous grin.
You are able to light it, and adjust the shutters appropriately, aiming it towards the mast.
But nothing happens.
You try again, and again, fiddling with the shutters to make sure they're correct, and even trying different sections of the mast, but still no portal forms as a vague feeling of unease works its way in.
Eventually, while you try to sort out what is wrong, the lamp light sputters... then dies... its fuel finally spent.
"Oh no." Natalya exclaims.
When Skelg hears the news, his tired face gets grim.
"Not to pile on the bad news," He offers. "But I think I see some dark blots in the distance, moving this way." He points towards Whitethrone, where a keen eye can just make out people coming this way, though still a ways off.
After some back and forth, between he and Natalya and the Pathfinders, it is finally decided that you will head to an old hunting lodge along the northern side of the lake that Skelg used to use when he was younger.
Natalya uses the last of her magical energies to protect Nella and Phoebee from the cold until you can recover and protect yourselves. She says she will send out supplies in the morning, warm clothes and food, while they figure out a better solution or a way to get you safely into town or out of Irresen.
And with that, you are off to an unknown future!
The trip from the ship to land, across the broken ice field is slow and harrowing, but eventually you make it to the northern shore of the lake. Per Skelg's instruction, you travel west about an hour, and find the unused hunters cabin just before dusk.
The night is cold, especially for those without magical protection, but you make it to dawn.
Later that afternoon, a man approaches, and identifies himself as a servent of the Yagevna family. He brings warm clothing for everyone and some food for a few days. He will also stop and make a list of other items you might be in need of.
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"I just hope that we'll be able to find a way back home soon," Nella sighs as the group finally reaches the old hunting lodge and works to settle in for the night. "Although...this will make for a great story someday if we do," she chuckles. "It's funny, I almost wound up going to Osirion once. I never expected I'd finally get to travel but end up going in the complete opposite direction."
"With it as cold as it is and no firewood, we'd probably better pile up together while we sleep tonight," she suggests. "Between all of us and what blankets and such we've got, I think we'll be able to manage until Natalya's man can bring us some supplies tomorrow."
It is a couple of days before the servent returns with the items you requested, which he drops off without comment, apparently eager to be away again.
About an hour after he leaves however, another man approaches your cabin. None of you recognize him, but he will identify himself as a Pathfinder by the name of Sverrir.
"It is not safe for you here any longer." He says. "News of the Yagevna woman's return has become the talk of Whitethrone... as well the strange circumstances that lead to it. Her peoples' purchases have raised more then a few eyebrows, and soon others will be following this trail. If the Howlers take interest, you might never get home."
"So time to move. I've been told to get you to Yensa. Fast." He scowls, clearly unhappy with this last. "I owed Skelg, or I wouldn't be doing this." he adds.
"Would seem someone found something for you to do other then freeze out here. Made it sound important anyway."
"Not you though!" He exclaims, pointing at Wei Tchak. He whistles loudly, and a few minutes later a second ulfen man trudges out of the snow. "This is Bjarni, yer going with him."
Bjarni does not seem happy, but nods. "Ve go south." He says in heavily accented common.
"Now." He adds, a moment later, when the tengu doesn't immediately start moving.
And minutes later, both Bjarni and Wei Tchak are gone.
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Malusha sense the urgency in Sverrir's voice and begins gathering his belongings. It seems that this adventure in the colder parts of the world are not over. "Well Nella, I can tell you that this climate is absolutely not what I'm used to." He smiles at the pretty lady while stuffing some of his items into his bag. "I don't know how people can live where it is so cold and the sun always hides behind the clouds."
When the second man comes Malusha is saddened by the news that Tchak will be leaving. As the Tengu leaves he offers a traditional Osiriani blessing. He lifts his hand, palm forward, towards Tchak and says "Papajoh shi besh zhou lafgee boh geth." Then he adds, "That means, 'May you always find shade and water.'"
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Masym grasps the tengu's hand in friendship. "Fare well my friend. We shall meet again." He then gathers up his belongings while nodding to the Garund man. "After experiencing the coldest touch of midnight, I find living up here far more bearable than I had previously thought!" He adds, shivering involuntarily as the memory of the curse floods his mind. He knew with a certainty he would live with that nightmare for the rest of his life.
Once the other two are gone, Sverrir gets down to the business at hand.
"We'll be a day west to the Frozen Road, then two hard days and a night straight through the heart of the Bleakmarch. Will be no stopping there, so we ride hard and fast, and hope nothing feels like giving chase, 'til we hit the Iceflow."
"Gather everything you can. Leave none of it behind. We have to leave now to get across the river before dark."
He leads you across the snow for about a quarter mile, where you meet up with a third man watching over two sleds, each with a team of dogs attached. They quickly load you and the gear (three on one sled, two plus gear on the other) and head out without comment beyond simple instructions.
What follows is three days of cold icy discomfort.
The first day, is not too bad, the experience still somewhat novel and the pace quick, but bearable. You head away from the lake and, just before nightfall, cross a partially frozen river to camp on the far side. But after that, your guide's nervousness is obvious, both of them on high alert. A condition that does not change for the two days that follow.
Before dawn on the second day, the sleds are off, moving fast due west across vast barren country painted in nothing but white. That day is pretty much a blur as it starts to snow early on and continues the rest of the day, making it impossible to see more than a a dozen yards in any direction nor tell where land stops and sky begins. Conversation is almost impossible due to the icy wind that tries to jump down your throat the moment your mouth opens. And of course, true to their word, breaks are nearly nonexistent.
At the end of that second day, you come to a halt, but Sverrir tells you not to get off the sleds. He goes to tend to the dogs for about ten minutes. Then its back on the sled and you're off again, traveling through the night and for the rest of the next day.
Just past noon on that third day, you notice both drivers relax somewhat, and the dogs' pace slackens slightly for the next few hours, before stopping finally, in what seems like the middle of nowhere.
Sverrir points to the west. "'Bout a mile that way, you'll find Ragna's camp. You'll have to walk it from here, we can't take the dogs there. Just follow this ridge, you can't miss 'em."
You're not sure exactly what patch of white he's referring to as 'this ridge'... though the snow to your right seems to have a slightly different shade then the snow to the left of it.
Without further words, Sverrir and the other man, who never did give you a name, turn the dogs, and head out to the southeast.
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Masym quickly slips into his role as guide here making sure everyone is bundled against the cold, especially the two ladies who seem to be unused to the cold. "Don't waste your magic here. Your clothes will be enough."
His knowledge of the cold seems preternatural, as though he has dealt with a debilitating cold recently.
Once everyone is ready to proceed he scans the snow closely for any track which lead to the ridge. Looks like the way to the right is the way, but best to be sure...
Long nights in Lastwall, and more recent experience, have well taught Masym how easily a chill can creep in if you're not careful. He does a great job of straightening everyone's gear to keep it from creeping in on them as well.
With all the recent snow (which seems a common theme here) he is unable to find any tracks of any sort, other then their own, to help guide him. So he takes his best guess at what might be a ridge, over just a higher bit of snow pack, and leads to group in that direction.
Luckily, you are spotted long before you have a chance to get lost, as a tall rugged-looking ulfen woman in furs materializes almost right in front of you. She has the worn, wind-swept look of someone who spends the majority of her time outdoors.
"You made it!" She says, sounding surprised, "And so quickly."
"I would have lost that bet. Thought it had to be some kind of joke, but here you are, in the flesh." She eyes you all speculatively, giving a slight nod of approval as she notes your gear seems properly squared.
She turns and starts walking along with you as she talks, her strides adjusting to walking through the snow with practiced ease.
"Some kind of bad luck, getting dumped all the way out here in this icy hell."
"Though fortunate for us." She adds.
"My name's Ragna Lightfoot." She offers, by way of introduction. "I guess I'm in charge here... as much as any of us, anyway."
"Glad Sverrir was able to get to you in time. Irrisen is not safe for Pathfinders. Worse nowadays of course, since those Shadow Lodge bastards got their foothold in Whitethrone. Is why most of us are posted in this god-forsaken country... trying to learn what we can about what they're up to."
"Dunno how much you know." She starts. "... Probably not much given how you got here... But they've been utilizing some of the locals in their operations... and we managed to uh... 'capture' some of those a week and a bit back."
"Now the brain trust back in Absalom wants us to haul them in for... questioning... Interogation? Debriefing?" She laughs. "Hell if I know anymore."
She throws her hands up in exasperation. "There all damn goblins! They don't seem to differentiate between us and those traitors that hired them in the first place. So who knows, maybe they're working for us now?"
"And you unlucky bastards get to escort them all back to Trollheim, and keep 'em from from stabbing you or each other along the way."
"Wasn't looking forward to that, for sure. So suppose thanks are in order."
At that last, you come up over a small rise, and are looking down on a small encampment of about half a dozen people. All hardy, serious-looking ulfen men and women.
"Me and the others, we've been in-country here for a long time now," Ragna explains, as you walk into the camp. "Trying to keep tabs on the Shadow Lodge activity. But Irrisen is a damn tough place to stake out, let me tell you."
"Imagine my shock to get a message from Ambrus Valsin himself, telling me you're here and in need of extracting from the doorstep of Whitethrone itself." She seems a little mystified by that, eyeing you thoughtfully.
"Though I'll be damned if he said how exactly you fell in there." She finally continues with a shrug. "Never set foot in Absalom myself. Most of us are deployed out of Magnimar, with the Heidmarches." She waves absently at the other members of the camp. "Ain't any of us that know Valsin as more then a name."
"Except maybe the new guy." She adds, with an unhappy scowl.
"This isn't an easy posting. Between the cold and the Howlers, lose people faster than we can replace 'em most days. Three of those here are field commissions. They've never set foot in a Lodge of any sort."
She pulls a map out of an inside pocket, and unfurls it on a nearby bundle of goods.
"We're here." She says, pointing to a spot on the map. "Just a few miles outside of Yensa. That's the Iceflow there. We've mapped out a route that should get you into the Linorm Kingdoms." She frowns. "If you can keep out of too much trouble on the way."
"You'll be heading south, about three days along the edge of the Bleakmarch, and crossing into The Verge here, at Harvest's End, where they've a ferry. From there, its a bit less then a day west to the border."
"Valsin indicated that Darkwine's granted you and the gobbos passage through his lands. Not sure how he managed to pull off that minor miracle. Most ulfen would rather gut the little bastards as spit on them. Must have some pull to get the Castellan to agree to that."
She makes a mark on the map on the Linorm side of the border. "Should be a Blackraven way station here, just a mile or so in, where you can rest the night."
"Another group has already been dispatched to take the little green monsters off your hands once you get to Trollheim." She laughs, "Supposedly to question them about this whole Shadow Lodge business, but probably more to keep the locals from rioting at that point. Can't imagine these gobs being useful for anything, especially information."
"The other one of you. The tengu. You're to meet up with him again there, Valsin had some other task for him." She shrugs, clearly having no idea what that was. "Was my choice to send the birdman. Figured it was best. If the gobs got an eye on him, they'd be more like to assume he was dinner then an ally. Hard enough keepin' 'em in check without getting their stomachs involved."
"Anyway, will leave you all the food we have. Should cover the 3 or 4 days to the border. Enough for you and the gobs, though you'll have to keep a close eye on it. If you need any other supplies, let me know before we pack it all up. This site is burned, we won't be coming back here once we're out. Which will be soon."
As Ragna finishes her briefing, there is a sudden loud shriek, from just on the other side of a nearby snowbank. Ragna winces slightly at the sound, though doesn't seem alarmed by it.
"I swear, he gets worse, the more he practices." She mutters. The shrieking continues, and you suddenly realize its not shrieking at all, but someone trying to sing in an unknown high-pitched language. Someone who apparently has no at it whatsoever.
"I guess its time to meet your reward for coming to visit." Ragna adds with a sympathetic laugh.
"The lovely caterwauling, that's Storc. Fancies himself a bard... but can't carry a tune to save his life... or our ears."
You come up over the top of the snowbank, to see a very strange sight indeed. Below, watched over by two slightly put upon-looking men, are a handful of goblins.
"That one there's Mogs." Ragna says, pointing to a rather imperious-looking female goblin, sitting on a rock yelling at another goblin. "She's the only female of the lot and fancies herself in charge."
Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper "Between you and me, I think the others let her play leader so she yells at them less."
"She only speaks goblin," She adds. "As do most of them. Storc can manage in common alright, and though he's never admitted it, we're pretty sure Bloodgash can speak it too." She points to the goblin getting an earful from Mogs as he glares daggers back, to which she seems completely oblivious.
"You should keep an eye on him. There's a brain in there, and a scheming one at that. But he keeps to himself mostly and hasn't been any trouble.... yet."
She then points over to one side, where a pair of goblins seem to be throwing rocks at a snowman built on the belly of a portly third goblin who appears to be asleep.
"Those two, now those two are trouble. We call 'em Fritz and Deiter. Collectively." She chortles slightly. "Not their real names of course, but we never could figure out what those were. They're identical twins, so usually can't figure out which ones which anyway. If any of them are going to act up, its the twins. They take competitiveness to a level just short of cold-blooded murder."
"The big one, that's Fesgus." She shakes her head slightly. "He's usually no trouble at all, since he falls asleep at the drop of a hat. Watch the food around him though, the little bastard will eat his weight in food five times over, if you don't keep a leash on him."
"Terril!" She shouts, towards the beleaguered guards below, one of whom starts at his name being called, before making his way over.
"Terril will be going with you." She says, with a strange sense of finality in her voice.
"Don't know what Sheila was thinking sending him out here in the first place." She adds. "Storc seems to like him though, so lets call him your liaison. Once you hand them off in Trollheim, he'll then continue on with the other team from there, to soften the transition."
As the young man approaches, you hear her sigh and shout. "Put on your damn coat!" as if its something she's said many times before and has long grown tired of having to bring it up.
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Terril rolls his eyes at Ragna's oft repeated admonishment.
"You know the cold dosen't bother me! Ugh, fine... I'll put it on when I find it."
Finally realizing he's in the company of strangers, he holds out a hand in greeting.
"Ah, you must be my new travelling companions. What brings you to the ass-end of Golarion?"
Before anyone has a chance to speak, Storc's "singing" becomes even shriller and louder than before, and Terril looks over his shoulder with murder in his eyes.
"Would you quit your jammering for just a minute! I'm trying to talk to these nice people!"
A goblin, off to one side beams back at Terril, showing rows of sharp pointy teeth, before hoping up and rushing over to meet the new people too.
"Me just wrote it! It love song!" He beams proudly, clearly not entirely understanding what the word 'jammering' means.
"These new bosses?" He asks. "You longshanks have too many bosses." He adds, shaking his head. "We Frostfurs got one boss." He points down at Mogs, who is still yelling at Bloodgash, though the later seems to be ignoring her now. "Until she not boss no more."
Although Storc, like all the other goblins, has no armor or weapons you do notice he has a long length of frayed rope looped and hanging off his belt.
Geographically, you know that that the border between Irrisen and the Linnorm Kingdoms that you are planning to cross, is heavily disputed territory between the two warring countries. Getting too close to it before you are actually ready to cross will invite trouble and trying to cross the Iceflow River to the west is nearly impossible without attracting attention (which is probably why they have you going a ways south first and crossing at the Rimeflow instead, before heading over the border) And pretty much any Ulfen you meet outside of Irrisen is not going to look kindly on goblins passing through their lands.
As far as the local area goes, because it is always winter in Irrisen, they have to import a lot of their food. There are no crops or easily obtained foodstuffs except by fishing and some hunting.
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Once the newcomer has introduced himself, Masym clears his throat. "All right, listen up. This will NOT be a fun journey. The goblins will be nothing but trouble on this journey. They hate what we like, and love what we hate. Also to make this trip even more fun, we cannot take any shortcuts here as our path lies between two warring countries. The natives have even less love of goblins than we do!" As he lets the news sink in he adds as an afterthought, "By the way, food will be scarce. I hope you all like the taste of fish."
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Nella is also sad to see Tchak go, giving him a quick hug as they all prepare to part ways. "May Shelyn keep you safe until we meet again!"
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"Nella Tabor, priestess of Shelyn," Nella says as she shakes Terril's hand in turn. "And it's a loooong story as to how we wound up here. I'm looking forward to getting back to parts familiar...even if we have to walk. And live off fish. And escort goblins," she chuckles, clearly trying to help keep spirits up.
"Storc, right?" she adds, turning her attention to the goblin. "I'm Nella. And it was a very nice song!" Suddenly, her expression turns mischievous. "See that woman there? That's our friend Phoebee - and she really likes making music too. I bet she'd love to hear all about your songs."
As Nella says his name, Storc turns to eye her suspiciously, though he nods. But then she compliments his song, and a big grin breaks across his face.
"Storc is mighty goblin Warchanter!" He says, proudly. "He knows." He says, pointing at Terril for confirmation of the obvious.
When Nella points out Phoebee, and mentions her specialty, you see the little goblin gears in his little goblin head start to turn.
Beside you, Ragna almost groans. "Are you insane?!" She gasps. "Don't encourage him!" She shakes her head, "Well, they're you're problem now!" She calls a command in Skald to the guard down below, then turns and heads back to camp with a resigned sigh. "No one's getting any sleep tonight now, might as well start packing up."
Down below you, you notice that Fritz and Deiter have stopped throwing rocks at the snowman perched on Fesgus, and instead seem to have started throwing them at each other. Of course, finding rocks in all the snow is not so easy, so they quickly revert to tossing chunks of ice instead.
Meanwhile, Storc has walked right up to Phoebee and is eyeing her up and down (mostly up).
"I am Storc. Mighty goblin Warchanter!" He repeats. "Storc will teach you to sing!" He then eyes her suspiciously and adds. "But not as good as Storc."
He then immediately breaks into a 'song'... resting uncomfortably somewhere between howling cat and some kind of chittering insect swarm.
When she doesn't immediately start singing along, he glances back towards Nella and says. "Feebee not very good."
He ponders for a moment, then exclaims. "Maybe if I use whip!" as he starts trying to untie the rope from his belt.
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Spotting Storc unfurling his whip from the corner of his eye, Terril tears himself away from the introductions and rushes over, grabbing the goblin's tiny wrist.
"No whipping! Last time, someone almost lost an eye."
He inspects the whip and removes any chunks of rock and ice from the end before handing it back to Storc with a satisfied smirk.
Storc looks like he is about to bite Terril as the later graps his arm, but instead just looks disappointed that he is not allowed to motivate Phoebee with his whip.
"Storc already know how to sing!" He says, indignantly at Phoebee's response.
He looks at Nella scowls and shakes his head, then moves away from the group down the hill to talk in hushed tones to Mogs. The later of which eyes you all from below suspiciously as she listens. Bloodgash seems to be listening in as well.
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Masym glances first at Nella, then Phoebee, his face a mask. Shrugging slightly he finishes packing up his gear and turns to address the newcomer. "So, you look like you have traveled out in the lands before? We will need to come up with a marching order and also a guard rotation where we can keep an eye on those gobbos, and also watch out for any Ulfen patrols."
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Terril shrugs noncommittally at Masym's question.
"I haven't done much trekking through the wilderness under these conditions before. That's not to say that I'm completely useless though. I'm fairly certain I was chosen for this assignment because I'm rather hardy and have what passes for rapport with the goblins. That, or Ragna just want's to get rid me..."
"As for a marching order, I'd suggest to either put me on point, or have me wrangle the gobbos."
The (un?)friendly rock/ice fight going on down below appears to have devolved into a biting and wrestling match. Which soon results in one twin on top, trying to bash the other's head open with a rock, while the one on the bottom attempts to chew his brother's arm off.
The remaining guard moves to step in at this point, calling up to Terril as he does so.
Terril will be able to easily separate the goblins with the other guard's help. You both have had plenty of practice.
The one with the rock makes one last ditch effort, hurling the rock at his brother while dangling from the guards clutches, but the throw comes nowhere near anyone, disappearing harmlessly into a nearby snowbank. So the both of them then resort to hurling insults as they shout back and forth at each other in goblin.
Eventually Mogs yells something in goblin, sounding annoyed, and they both settle down.
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Masym turns to give the Shelyn priestess a mock look of surprise. "Miss, I think I mentioned that this will be a long trip earlier!" Turning his attention back to Terril he nods in agreement. "I can scout ahead. Looks like you will have your hands full. Dead-Eye, you should help keep an eye on the gobbos. They are the reason we are taking this pleasure jaunt right?"