Braegan shifts uncomfortably at Chiquq's words, and idly (and delicately) fiddles with his gloves.
"The north seems to be making a habit of sending its curses south to Heldren," he mutters.
"What appears to be a curse is not always evil," says Theodora kindly, not looking at Braegan directly. "Demgazi, also close to the Wood. And was it hunters? Ah, yes, I can see it was. There's the scent of the Wood on it. Dear Kellid, I do not know if this is the gods or deviltry or something in between." She quietly drains her tea, rocking in her chair.
"Well then. If you have more to ask do be quick; Goody Teppen is expecting you in a few grains of the glass. I regret you can't stay longer. May the fates be kind to you."
Braegan takes a sip of his tea, ignoring her response of curses as he thinks on the strange details. ”One last thing. The Ulfen and Lady Malassene. What do you know of them? Did you see anything of either that might help us?”
"The Ulfen's a fellow named Yuln. Council and the Apothecary are looking after him. He's a bodyguard of the Lady. He won't say much about why their caravan turned around, but the scuttlebutt from Zimar is that she didn't like her promised-to-be very much, turned on her heel, and headed back down the long way, instead of over the plain to Oppara. Caravan passed through about two weeks ago on the way to Oppara, passed Demgazi and Heldren a day or so ago, and Yuln came wandering out in the dead of last night. Ionnia can tell you more."
”You think their trip is related to all this? Or just bad luck on her part?”
"The north seems to be making a habit of sending its curses south to Heldren," he mutters.
Mahb coughs on a cackle, "Are you callin' me a curse, boy? That's a first I'd thank you for." She seems to be on the verge of saying more than clamps her tongue, holding the words for another time.
Dezső muses aloud but mostly to himself, in a voice that is the aural equivalent of puzzle pieces being arranged on a table: "So this Lady Malassene passed through two weeks ago on a journey to be married, but then turned around mid-journey and very recently was nabbed by some creatures of ice as reported by her bodyguard Yuln, who stumbled into town last night. And we are to go see Ionnia to hear more of the story and meet this Yuln, and perhaps see if this abduction is related to the strange icy happenings..." He looks up, a satisfied expression on his face. "Is that about right? This really is very intriguing."
"Bad ice is in the wood; they were by the wood. Hard to say. Yuln said something about bandits, and so did the High Sentinels, so you'd have to ask him if there was more, like this weasel someone saw. And Braegan, dear boy, the line between intertwined fate and 'luck' has been quite blurry for some time now. Yes, tiefling--Ustalav or Mendev, do I detect that?--you have it about right." Theodora looks quite satisfied.
"Now be off with you, shoo, shoo. Mahb, take the ice or leave it; I have a feeling you'll be seeing more of it."
Braegan frowns at the soothsayer, but says nothing as he takes the final sip of his tea. "Thank you," he says as he sets down the mug and stands up, "for the tea and the words."
He gives her his warmest grin (despite her inability to see), "No one brews it like you."
He sets out, holding the door for the group on the way out, and follows the group to their next appointment.
"Yes, Ustalav. I grew up at Lepidstadt University. Thank you for the information and tea."
Dezső gives a quick grim nod at Theodora's last comment and follows Braegan's lead, since this is his town.
Mahb debates and eventually pockets the strange piece of ice again. "Maybe I'll use it to keep my milk from curdlin'." She makes no response to Theodora's utterance, just heads for the door. "Let's go see what Goody Teppen has to say."
Ionnia Teppen is a tall, severely handsome woman of middle age, and her status as de facto mayor of Heldren is clear. She meets you in her study on the second floor of her simple, clean home--the windows overlook her true home, the Town Hall. Two guards stand by her desk; they comprise a good sixth of the miniscule Heldren militia. She nods as you come in.
"Braegan Hightown, Goody Mahb, welcome. You others, welcome to Heldren and thank you for coming. I trust Theodora has told you some of the situation; we have a kidnapping on our hands, a mystery in our Wood, and a wounded Ulfen in our apothecary. Heldren can barely muster a watch, and I had thought we'd have to leave this to our citizenry and hunters, but Theodora assured me that help would materialize."
She gives a half-relieved, half-wondering exhalation. "Heldren is not given to trusting in sorcery," she says more to her desk than to anyone, although perhaps giving Mahb a glance, "But I have come to trust Theodora's counsel. She said you would gather...and here you are. I can offer you only gratitude, and my promise to ask Lady Argentea to reward you handsomely should you return her safely. If you agree, I will take you to see Yuln. You will be doing Heldren and Taldor a great service, one that will not be forgotten."
Even though her promises allow for no monetary award save some potential gift from the Lady, Ionnia has a sincere nobility about her, for a council head of a tiny forest village. She awaits your reply
The hag stifles a snort. In normal times, Goody Teppen was good for - at best - a somewhat chilly reception. So, it gave the old woman a warm glow to see the mayor pressed into being nearly deferential. It also made Mahb seriously consider how much influence Theodora wielded.
Mahb lets Teppen stew in silence for a moment, busying herself with straightening Pye's chest feathers before responding. "I don't fancy fell creatures roaming my woods. I'm willing to nip this problem in the bud."
Braegan sits through the mayor’s welcome and briefing, quickly becoming transfixed by the flames dancing in her small hearth along one wall. His gray eyes seem to drink in the flame’s light, warming to a reflective, orange-yellow of their own. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually listening, though he nods every few minutes.
When Goody Teppen’s words come back to this group’s role, Braegan seems to come back from wherever he’s been. His solemnity vanishes, replaced by his usual warm smile. ”You know me. However I can help Heldren,” or get some attention in the attempt, regardless of any inherent recklessness, ”I’ll be there.”
He laughs at Mahb’s declaration, ”There’s only room for one monster in those woods, right?” He stands up, but pauses to watch the kellids and their new red-skinned friend for everyone’s answer.
As he waits, he mutters to Mahb, ”I’ll need to go check in on ma and pa before we head out. And get some more clothes. I’m guessing it’s even colder in the wood.”
He laughs at Mahb’s declaration, "There’s only room for one monster in those woods, right?" He stands up, but pauses to watch the kellids and their new red-skinned friend for everyone’s answer.
Mahb gives him a grin that would be frightening if it weren't familiar. "Just so, boy. No pale-furred stoat is gonna usurp me."
"You may certainly count on my assistance, Madam. This is a mystery that calls for a thorough investigation, and it is most fortunate that circumstances have brought us together."
He turns to Braegan:"I can lend you that sum, if in the process you could also procure me some warmer clothing that will not interfere with my coat." He shakes his coat and you hear the rattle of metal, making it clear it has an armor lining. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small (and pretty empty) coin pouch. "Here is the gold piece you asked to borrow, and another for furs for me as well. I suspect you will have better luck with the local sellers, particularly because we are venturing into the woods on their behalf."
"Glad to," the younger man says, taking the coin purse. "Anything else?" he asks of the group. Once the team has made all their requests, Braegan salutes Ionia and the two militiamen before slipping out and hitting a few stores ... then his own house.
Chiquq is mostly quiet for the introduction to the elder of the little town, her face still drawn in thought. When Teppen gives what is, essentially, a job offer, the Kellid woman nods, slowly.
"Your woods are not known to me.... but I am a tracker and hunter," she says. "And if there is a wrong thing here to destroy, then.... I also will assist."
As she's not wearing her own thick furs right now-- look, this weather is still much too warm for her tastes-- Chiquq almost offers them over to the singer, but.... perhaps it will be colder in the woods. Nearer this strange ice.
While Braegan visits his home, Chiquq checks the straps and gear on Ila, and waters the poor, sweating mammoth some more.
Having nothing else to do in town, Mahb heads for the barely-more-than-an-animal-trail that passes into the shadow of the neighboring woods... the trail to her 'house' set less than league from Heldren.
Braegan spends nearly an hour touching base with his family, reclaiming his own furs (as well as a potion he's been saving for the right moment), and picking up what he hopes is the style of furs he hopes Deszö wants.
He seems ready .... no, actually eager ... to go traipsing off after ice monsters in a likely-frozen forest.
Some time later amid cursing, the hag assists a laboring donkey push/pull a mud-crusted and battered old hay-rick from the boggy remnants of the low woods onto the relatively hard-packed roads of the town. Mahb swipes the worst of the mud from the hem of her dress and the legs of her long-suffering donkey. She pats the beast affectionately under the watchful eye of the raven, perching like ill-news on the top of the wagon.
A large mound of hay dribbles off the back of the rick. Pinning most of the mound in place are a pile of winter clothes, odd flotsam, a blackened cauldron, and a selection of beakers, flasks, and jars.
Braegan smiles and stands as his aunt trundles back in town. He walks up, grimacing as he lifts his pack and tosses it into the wagon.
"Is that okay?" he asks a second too late. "I'm happy to take a spin at the reins if you want." He taps the never-before-used morningstar hanging at his hip. "We're gonna have ourselves an adventure." He grins, "Who in Heldren can say that?"
Imendri stands off toward the back of the group as they listen to goodwife Teppen tell them the last that they need to hear before nodding in agreement with Mahb, Braegan, Desző, and his cousin.
"Dis is fine. We can haff a talk wif Yuln now, yes?" ...and then everyone seems to split for an hour or so. Imendri waits outside of the building in which they met Ionnia Teppen until the rest are grouped and ready to speak with Yuln.
As he does so, he keeps his eyes open for butterflies and moths, if any are to be found. From the outside, it simply looks like a large, simple man is smiling at the sky, eyes and head darting this way and that.
Chiquq's lips twitch a little at Braegan's enthusiasm.
"Adventure sounds good when one is warm and home," she answers with a grin. "Sometimes not so much, later."
She eyes Mahb's hayrick and donkey, then grunts. Ila is the superior animal, of course: she pets the miserable mammoth, trying to soothe her poor beast, as they walk.
Ionnia and a guard lead you to the Willowbark Apothecary, passing through the Town Square. A few garlands of summer blooms are draped on the Lady, remnants of Midsummer. You come to a small neat house on the west of town, with a lovely well-tended garden, and are greeted by Tessaraea Willowbark, the resident apothecary. Despite her human Taldan surname, she is an elf. She is somewhat quiet and somber. Her shop reveals a cornucopia of alchemical substances and at least one clearly magical potion near her counter. You can also tell she has quite a bit of alchemist's fire.
She leads you into her back room, where Yuln is resting. He is a doughty older Ulfen, with braided blonde hair and beaded beard. He is wrapped in bandages, and his nose, fingers, and toes are blackened with serious frostbite. As you enter, Elder Safander, the village priest, stands and bows to you, taking a back seat. Safander is a half-elf bearing the religious symbols of Erasti, Old Deadeye. Yuln waves you closer.
Ionnia speaks. "Yuln Oerstag, this is the posse that Theodore had said will come. Will you speak with them about the attack?"
Yuln nods and coughs. It is clear his wounds are serious and he is in great pain, but his voice remains clear.
"Would that I could go with you," he says in a northern Ulfen accent. "My ancestorys would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced in your Wood, that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though...I think I slew at least one of them...before they dragged Lady Argentea away." He looks embarrassed at his failure to protect his Lady.
Braegan, with even a bit more swagger than he usually has, walks into the room, loving when the town’s mayor introduces him as part of the posse. He watches the Ulfen through Ionnia’s introduction, nodding a greeting instead of interrupting. He nods sympathetically along with the story.
”Maybe your ancestors would ridicule.” He shrugs, giving the man an ernest look, ”Then again, maybe if you’d stayed and died, you’d just be another corpse and there would be no one to send us to help find Lady Argentea.”
Braegan pauses, pulling idly once again at the fingers of his gloves. ”These creatures. What were they? Or what did they look like? Did they speak?”
Yuln grunts at Braegan and gives him a squint. "Ulfen-blóð, I see. Aye, true that is." He shifts painfully and gives a distant look, clearly getting ready to tell a tale.
"The creatures. We thought it was just bandits at first...those outlaws who hide like wolves in the forest. But then came flurries of snow and--the cold fey of the North. They appeared among us in an instant. The battle turned quickly." He looks grim, then continues.
"My people--your people," he says, giving Braegan a meaningful look, "We speak of the vetr-taka--winter-touched all the time, but I never expected to meet them this far South."
Despite the phrase, Braegan doesn't know it, and even Mahb can't recall such a thing off the tip of her tongue.
Yuln ponders the second part of Braegan's question. "The winter-touched are fey creatures. Tiny sprites they are, no taller than the length of a man's forearm. But don't be fooled by their small statues. They have sworn themselves to the White Witches of Irrisen." He almost spits the word that names Ulfen lands stolen long ago. "Skalds and seers do say that they have taken a sliver of ice into their hearts, and their touch bears the harsh bite of winter."
Chiquq has stood silently in a corner, but her eyes dart upwards at the mention of Irrisen.
"Are your wounds themselves frosted? Do these little spirits strike with steel, or merely their hands?" she asks curiously. If Yuln permits, she inspects his injuries beneath their bandages.
Chiquq can see that Yuln's wounds are both cuts and frostbite, and he grunts an affirmation. "The winter-touched have swords and the like, and those swords carry a numbing chill." He nods at his longsword.
"Cold iron. That and fire are the best way to stop them. They fear those two things. Take it, and strike them down" he says.
Chiquq frowns and rubs at her jaw. "I see. Thank you. I will pray to the great huntress that you are soon better, Ulf-man."
She looks over to Braegan. "Is there a smith in your town that would have this.... 'cold' iron? It is not very known to me."
Dezső listens attentively to Yuln's tale and his companions' questioning, and his eyes dart over the ulfen's person (and wounds, when exposed).
"And these fey said nothing? How do you know they took the Lady? Where did this attack occur?"
Dezső tries to remember what he knows about cold iron:
Finally, he tries to speak discreetly to Braegan: "do you think Tessaraea might be willing to contribute some of her alchemist fire to our cause?" The obvious implication is that Braegan is the better one to ask.
Yuln turns to the tiefling. "I saw them take Lady Argentea into the forest. It was already ice and snow where we were, and where they took her, it grew deeper and colder. Beyond that, I know not. I followed on horseback, but the winter-touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow. I barely escaped." He looks embarrassed.
"The attack was six miles from here, into the forest. And...I cannot recall what the fey said. Shouting and mockery. They do understand Taldan, I believe, and certainly Ulfen, but they have their own speech."
This iron, mined deep underground and known for its effectiveness against demons and fey creatures, is forged at a lower temperature to preserve its delicate properties. Weapons made of cold iron cost twice as much to make as their normal counterparts.
Isker's Smithy may have some small cold iron items.
Braegan shrugs at mention of the vetr-taka, but grins at mention of how to combat them. He pulls out a morningstar made of a dark metal. ”Got this from Isker’s Smithy. Cold iron. He can make more, I think.”
At Dezso’s question, Braegan shrugs again, ”I’ll ask.”
He turns back to the Ulfen man, ”We will look, and we will see what we can see.” His language shifts to skald, though spoken like a Taldan. ”You did what you could, and no one would doubt you fought honorably, Yuln. Thank you for the information. It could be the thing that saves Lady Argentina.”
"Mm. I hope so. The Winter Witches, they are behind this. Much worse will follow." Ulfen are usually one of three things: drunken and boisterous, fearing little and ready to battle, and grim and stoic, awaiting doom. He appears to be the third right now.
Tessarea looks at Braegan with the long, sallow face of a Forlorn. "Adventuring is a deadly business," she says, and there seems to be some background behind her statement. She eyes her vials, thinking. "Half price on the alchemist's fires. If you see a troll, hit it hard." Her eyes glitter with hatred as she says that last statement. "And the potion there enables one to resist cold. I am afraid it is too precious to sell at anything less than full price."
Chiquq looks to Braegan and nods. "Then let us ask your smith if he has arrows also, please."
At the question of the sword, she gazes at the blade a moment before looking at Imendri. "Would you wield this blade, brother?"
Braegan purhcases an alchemist’s fire, nodding his thanks to Tessarea as he offers it to the group. Then he continues holding up his morningstar, as well.
”Seriously, though. It sounds like someone else can put this to better use. If things heat up, I”m sure I can find a more useful way to contribute.”
Imendri takes a look at the sword, and then to Yuln. "Yuu haff a good arm and a good blade. Get heal, and dere is other glory to be have. More life, yuu know."
Turning to Chiquq, he says in , "That's his, but I've got the coin to buy one, I think. Let me check...", and rummages through his backpack for a second.
"...ehm, I haff not enuff golt for de cold iron sword, but only by 9 silber. If yuu fink, Braegan, det de smit will maybe giff a discount, den I would like to give de last off my money to get a sword like dis one", pointing at the dark blade possessed Yuln.
(I've got 29.1 gp, , and it costs 30 haha)
"I can spare you one of the gold coins, brother."
Chiquq shakes her head at Imendri. "This warrior offers his blade freely, cousin, for us to use to restore his honor. If you will not use it, then I will."
With weapons distributed and alchemist’s fires purchased, Braegan looks around at his fate-gathered team. Then he grins, switching to Hallit.
”We ready to go see about some ice monsters?”