"Let us stop at your smith's?" Chiquq asks as they exit. "I am an archer. The blade will serve me alright, but arrows are better."
Braegan nods, "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to be known as my smith. I've got a few coins to help you fill that quiver, if you need them."
He looks at the sword and morningstar, "Otherwise, we may need to make do with what we have. He may have a cold iron dagger lying around, though, if we think another fey-bane weapon is needed."
"Like Chiquq, I would like to buy some cold iron ammunition... specifically, bolts for my crossbow." Dezső opens his armored coat to show a light crossbow hanging at his side, and looks admiringly at Chiquq's bow. "I am also trained in archery; one day I would like to own a long bow such as yours, which is clearly a superior weapon, although it is not something I could wear under my coat."
At Isker's, his daughter Xanthippe, the local beauty, is hammering away at something on the anvil. She is as strong as she is lovely, and Braegan recalls a day when she knocked out an overly ambitious suitor--knocked him clean out of the tavern, even. As you all come in, she looks up with a grin. "Braegan! Mahb? Goodness, Goody Mahb, you should let me comb that hair. Just made some steel currycombs--might do the trick. Dad's out back." She douses her piece in water with tongs and then sets it in an oil tray.
After hearing your shopping requests, she nods and frowns. "For fey, I guess. We'd heard the Council was setting something up after that bodyguard came into town half-dead. However..." she crosses her arms, her face quite exquisite despite the grime on it. "Dad only has a bit of stock. We've got these sling bullets." She brings down a bag from a high shelf. "Ten, cold iron, forged in Zimar. Magical as well. I could hammer them down into something else, but it would take two days. You have to set the forge at half the heat and use special tools, and even then you might lose the magic part. No, you'd definitely lose that bit." She nods at the bullets and at the bunch of you, seeing if you're interested.
Braegan didn’t have to affect a smile for Xanthippe. The girl may be able to break most of the guys in town in half, but she was nice. Oh yah … and pretty. He'd smile at her all day.
”Evening, Xan,” he watches her douse the metal. Well, more watches her than the water or metal. And he laughs at her comments to Mahb. The girl had steel, that’s for sure.
He moves to the side, leaning back against a wooden work table and crossing his arms as she finishes her work, giving him a moment to watch the flames dance from across the room as he listens to her lay out the options. ”I don’t think we have two days to wait. You and your dad couldn’t finish it quicker?” His crooked smile is playful, ”I thought you were supposed to be good at this stuff.”
He shrugs, "How much if we take them as-is?"
Imendri has been in a daze for a bit, possibly the source of his surname. He follows well enough to the smith, and appears to become more aware over the walk.
Whispering to Chiquq, in : "Cousin, I was dreaming again. Yes, if you want to use the sword, go ahead - but I'll use it if he truly didn't fear lending the sword to us. If you *do* use the sword, then I could use the silver pieces to buy myself my own..." Imendri makes a face at his own spacey nature.
"Nay, Braeling," says Xanthippe with a return smile. She and Andice have let Braegan come along on some of their adventures about town--tame ones, that is. Far too old for Braegan, but she's never been rude to him. "Cold iron just doesn't work that way. You have to work it...slowly. You young bucks will learn that eventually." She concludes her brief lesson on arcane metallurgy with a laugh.
"Cost? Ha! You'd never afford them. DA!" She hollers for Isker.
Isker appears, every inch of him a handsome Taldan veteran turned blacksmith. He gives Mahb and Braegan a friendly grin and the rest of the group a curious nod, pausing to look at Deszö. "Tiefling. I served with one on the border for many years. Loyal fellow. So." He turns to Xanthippe and they appear to engage in something like telepathic communication for a moment.
"What Xanthippe says is true. These bullets are the most expensive thing in my shop, ounce for ounce. A thousand gold coins, perhaps."
He pauses. "Ionnia has told me about what's going on. Take the bullets. I'd go join you, but I have family, and the town needs me. But you need these bullets." He pours out the bullets carefully, counts them, looks at them with a practiced eye, and then puts them back into their bag. He holds them out, his eye on the tiefling and the Kellids as the presumable warriors in the bunch.
Chiquq frowns as she listens to the explanation of no, no iron arrows. But at the end she nods to the blacksmith and his daughter.
"It is... good of you to give. For good cause. Thank you, we will use them."
Chiquq rolls around one of the dense, small metal pellets in her palm, testing the weight of it, and then she thoughtfully digs in her pack for some of the straps she uses to tie cargo onto Ila. One of those might work...
”You have to work it...slowly. You young bucks will learn that eventually.” She concludes her brief lesson on arcane metallurgy with a laugh.
”A lesson I’ll look forward to learning,” he quips. Then immediately wishes he’d kept his yap shut as Isker enters.
Regardless, Braegan nods his thanks at their generous offer. ”Hopefully it will keep our skins intact, sir.”
He watches Chiquq create an impromptu sling. ”Resourceful. But I though you kellids carried everything you could ever need everywhere you go.”
Dezső watches the interaction between Braegan and Xanthippe with an expression of confused curiosity, their banter and gentle flirting beyond his understanding. He smiles broadly at Isker's words and turns to Chiquq, "You see, there is more to my kind than the fiends in our bloodlines."
Dezső raises his eyebrows at Isker's reference to thousands of gold but nods solemnly and with appreciation when Isker contributes the bullets to the cause.
After Chiquq collects the bullets, Dezső turns to her, "I am also a good shot, perhaps I should carry a few of the bullets as well -- the more of us that can harm these evil fey, the better." If Chiquq agrees, Dezső will proceed to fashion a sling as well -- if necessary asking Isker for an appropriate strap.
"Goodness, Goody Mahb, you should let me comb that hair. Just made some steel currycombs--might do the trick. Dad's out back."
Mahb snorts then retorts. "Girl, my hair has a mind all it's own and it snaps combs as easily as my face breaks mirrors." Despite her general surliness, the hag's response is almost friendly. While some in the village sarcastically dispense the 'Goody' honorific on Mahb, Xanthippe always meant it kindly... and Mahb appreciated the courtesy. Also, the girl had useful skills and wasn't one of the preening and useless flibberty-gibbet village girls whose only skill was getting in and out of their petticoats in record time. It earned Xanthippe the old woman's respect.
"Now, if you ever turn some cold iron into fine wire, I'll be happy to let you weave that into my hair - might even wash it for ya first." Behind the comment, Mahb mulls the possibilities. How effectively could she strangle the life out of fey with wire-laced hair? Better still, find a way to convert cold-iron hex nails into fine wire for the next Winter Witch she ran across... It bore serious consideration.
Isker appears, every inch of him a handsome Taldan veteran turned blacksmith. He gives Mahb and Braegan a friendly grin and the rest of the group a curious nod
Mahb returns the nod and raises a shaggy eyebrow at the smith's generosity. Though it isn't her debt specifically, she takes it. "On your books for that one, Isker. If you or your girl are ever in need..."
Isker nods to Mahb. "We'll let you know. You're our first line of defense, or rather offense in this case. If there's a line of defense needed..." Isker nods towards his Taldan armor in the corner. It is gleaming and ready for use, and indeed he and Xanthippe and a few others spar on a regular basis.
Xanthippe gives Desző a strap of rope with a cup (in other words, a sling), giving him a smile. "That's a good hunting sling. It's brought down a wolf. Makes a good dent in a sheet of metal, too." She walks over to Chiquq and offers a few modifications to the Kellid's makeshift sling. "Yes, that'll do. Now, you have some fey to kill." Her eyes gleam a bit, as much the warrior as her father.
Dezső thanks Xanthippe:"I will put it to good use."
Chiquq side-eyes the tiefling-- and the discussion of tieflings-- but she counts out half of the slingstones wordlessly and passes them over to Dezso.
She thanks Xanthippe for her suggestions on how to improve the sling, tucks it at her belt, and says, "I am ready."
It is a gentle walk roughly five miles down the road from Heldren to where the road heads into the Border Wood. In the next mile, however, you see a dusting of snow on the ground, hardly seasonal. At the forest's edge, the temperature drops. You walk a short distance into the Wood, and the temperature remains cold, the dusting of snow increasing to enough to cover the road, but not impede movement...yet.
The road ahead is littered with debris and the corpses of slain humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. To the south, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a statue of ice. A snowy trail leads deeper into the forest. You have clearly come to the place where Lady Argentea's caravan was attacked--and it was clearly a massacre.
Mahb pats the donkey to ease it's disquiet then picks her way cautiously among the battle. She utters a sharp command to her companion, "Look about." Pye launches itself into air while the hag heads towards the strange hummocks of snow south of the trail.
Pye flies in a slow clockwise circuit around the battlefield.
Chiquq is actually more at ease as they head into the snow-dusted forest. Well... sort of. The cold feels like home to her, and it eases Ila's misery. But her mind knows well enough that there should be no such snow here in the southlands, at this time of year, so the unnaturalness of it keeps he from being too comfortable.
A dark shadow flits over her normally cheerful face at the sight of the violence ahead. Chiquq sucks on her teeth a moment, unhappily, and leads Ila forward, closer to the butchery.
"You should let us go first, grandmother," she says mildly to Mahb. Chiquq looks around, hunting for tracks in the snow that might have been made by feet other than the poor victims of the cold carnage.
Chiquq's head swivels in the direction of the carriage, and she frowns.
"Hsssst, something is still moving inside this," she says sharply. "And something else wanted it to stay in here-- look, see the spear haft through the door handles to keep it shut?"
Chiquq moves next to the carriage. "Hai! Who are you, in there?" she asks, with a thump of her palm against the carriage wall.
If it's some poor person trapped inside by the creatures who caused this carnage, then she'll free them.... but perhaps the guards were lucky and managed to trap one of the enemy instead. She supposes they'll find out.
"I see a trail, further, but let us deal with one thing at a time."
The raven stoops, dives at the central glittering hummock of ice, then pulls up. He croaks "Beak breaker!"
For her apparent age, Mahb turns with surprising agility at the bumping coming from the carriage. Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
"You should let us go first, grandmother," she says mildly to Mahb.
The old woman bobs her head, "That would be wise... But I'm only wise when the wind blows North-Northwest." She licks a finger and tests the breeze. "Westerly." She moves into the shadow of a snow-coated tree, in a good position to see into the carriage when the door opens. True to the westerly wind, while she's off the front-line but she isn't entirely safe from what may rush forth.
Braegan pulls his heavy furs tighter as they walk onto the scene of frozen carnage, though he’s dealt with the temperature drop admirably (likely due to this Ulfen heritage). He shakes his head at the exchange between Chiquq and Mahb. Locals had long since given up trying to give Mahb advice … he wondered how long it would take this new group.
He’s about to approach the strange ice sculpture when Chiquq’s warning brings him up short. He pauses, then walks up to stand a few feet behind her, where he discretely removes his gloves. Only his fingertips extend out from under his long sleeves, but the sharp-eyed among you note that it looks like they’re badly damaged. Maybe severely burned?
”Good ears, Chiquq. Let’s see what we see.” As he waits, he brings forth a small portion of his gift-and-curse, the color of his eyes warming to a low-burning orange as he tries to divine any magical energies in and around the carriage.
Dezső proceeds wordlessly as the group moves into the woods, his eyes constantly casting about, curiously taking in all the sights and sounds around them. He shows no visible reaction to the change in temperature. He responds with great curiosity, albeit not emotion, when the group reaches the scene of the attack. He initially proceeds with Braegan towards the statute, but hurries over towards the carriage at Chiquq's alert.
He assumes a position about 15 feet away from the carriage door, a loaded crossbow at the ready.
Braegan detects no magical auras...although there is a slight haze in his detection, probably due to whatever magic created the snow.
Pyewacket sees that the ice statue is probably a person, chunked or sliced into bits, the torso and legs remaining upright. There may be shiny things.
Chiquq's thump gets no reply, then a few random thumps. It could be anything.
After a second, Braegan squints at the carriage and the surrounding snows. "I guess it's no surprise that there's magic all over this place," he whispers. Then follows Deszö's gaze, nodding his support at the guessed plan of trying to get a peek in.
There are arrow holes in the carriage, but the windows have heavy curtains on them--royalty requires privacy, you know.
"My guess is that someone is bound inside, but in the full exercise of caution, I think we should try to get a look inside. It will take a bit of work, but I think I can cut a hole in the roof with this unless someone has an axe handy ."
Unless someone objects, Dezső will climb on the roof and carefully break a small hole in the roof of the carriage -- hopefully with someone's axe, but otherwise using a crossbow bolt. To the extent possible, he wants to make a hole without wrecking the structural integrity of the roof.
Chiquq arches her brows at the tiefling's look at her, but she goes to rummage in Ila's saddlebags. She comes up with an iron spike, which she's often used in the past to drive into ice or rock as a tether point for ropes, and the hammer that she uses to drive in the same. Without saying anything, she offers these over to the devil-man.
Mahb looks the carnage skeptically. "I don't think the folks that did this kind of reaving left a prisoner alive. And a friendly captive could do better than thumping. Smells like a trap to me."
Dezső accepts the spike and hammer with a smile and a thanks, seemingly oblivious to Chiquq's frostiness. He climbs on the carriage and proceeds with his plan when the others appear ready. Before he starts his work, he reloads his crossbow and sets it by his side.
"Unless they are bound or gagged," Chiquq says with a shrug to Mahb's words of a friendly captive. "It should be safe enough to try and peer in, as... he... is doing."
She glances back at the frozen-then-chopped up 'statue', and shudders a little. What a terrible fate. She'll investigate over there in short order, but for now she simply draws her spear and stands ready.
The carriage is easy enough to climb up, as there is a bench for a driver. The carriage roof, like the rest of the wagon, is made of stout Taldan wood. The thumps increase slightly in tempo, one or two now resonating on the roof.
The apparently responsive thumping from the inside makes Dezső a little nervous, but he reassures himself that the observable facts suggest a high probability that a bound and gagged captive is within, despite the witch's contrary opinion. Nevertheless, he steals a glance at his crossbow, and also assesses the best direction to jump should a quick departure from the roof become necessary. Otherwise, he proceeds with his plan.
Deszö's swing leaves the iron spike just barely stuck in the wood. It will take some pounding to get through. The thumps increase perceptibly.
Chiquq glances around as it becomes evident that it will take the tiefling some time. The devil man's limbs seem to have little muscle.
"Imendri, your arms might make this quicker," she says, not seeming terribly bothered by the fact that the devil-man can presumably understand her somewhat-slighting speech.
Dezső has no objection to Imendri stepping in. At Chiquq's words, Dezső pauses his work and raises the spike and hammer, as if to offer them to Imendri. But he will otherwise continue his work, and mention to Chiquq, "In Lepidstadt, I saw many brawny fighters fall in combat under the swift strikes of the University's fencers, many no stronger than I. But I don't hesitate in agreeing that Imendri could swing this hammer harder."
If Imendri joins Dezső atop the carriage, Dezső will give Imendri his spot but remain on the roof, kneeling nearby providing cover with his crossbow.
Braegan watches the exchange, then the effort of knocking a hole in the roof. Then he gives Chiquq's longspear a look, "Can't you just move the curtain aside and peek in?"
Mahb shifts from foot to foot impatiently then scratches her ass with a twig snapped off the tree.
Chiquq shrugs, and uses her spear's tip to try and brush open one of the curtains.
The tiefling gets the spike in after a bit of pounding. It won't crack the wood, but he's got a fair hole to peep into if he pulls out the stake...
Chiquq arches her brows at Dezso's words about fighting styles, but she merely observes the devil-man do his thing, for right now.
Dezső pulls out the spike and peeks in the hole! Initially he peeks from some distance back, but he gets close if necessary to get a good look inside. He holds his loaded crossbow.
