Orik feasts on the repast, saving a significant amount of his food for Sasha. ”Yrja, thank you for your help. It’s good to be with companions when I’ve spent so long with just Sasha. And thanks again to all of you.” He beams happily as he busies himself with a mundane routine, which you get the sense he is very comfortable keeping. His gear appears meticulously organized and managed, if somewhat worn in appearance. If anyone wants to work late on anything, he will remove their fatigue.
Orik pulls Chiquq aside the next morning when they have a moment as they pack up the gear for transport, ”Look, I saw some of the pain that you were feeling when I found Sasha. Obviously you were happy, but there was sadness there. Would you like to talk about it?” He says, a bit awkwardly. ”I haven’t counseled many folks as a priest but... I am a good listener.”
Ogon turns out to be a decent cook - able to fry and roast things to perfection. He certainly has no qualms about his own cooking, eating heartily before redonning his armour and preparing to leave. His skin is still pale, an odd orange-grey rather than the darker reddish brown of the day before, but he doesn't say anything.
Chiquq look startled when Orik first approaches, and then chagrined, pausing in the act of re-tying a broken piece of twig on a snowshoe.
"....I... did not realize I was so obvious," she says awkwardly, with a little lift of her shoulders. "It is kind of you to ask."
Standing, Chiquq shoulders her pack and cinches the straps for a long day's journey. "Like you and your Sasha-- there was a mammoth named Ila. She is dead now," Chiquq says with a blunt simplicity, a little spread of her empty hands.
"Only a beast. But you and I, we know better, yes? Take good care of your Sasha, Orik."
Chiquq smiles half-heartedly at Orik; it feels like the first time she has smiled since Ila fell to the claws of the beast.
"Tell me of your people. Your faith. You seem a kind man, Orik. I have not known many who have the... the blood that you do. And the ones I have known have not been kind. We can talk as we walk."
Yrja looks at Orik in confusion, not understand why he is singling her out for thanks. "But I didn't... and the others, too, I, um..." She trails off, then adds awkwardly. "Thanks."
In the morning, as Chiquq and Orik discuss their four-legged companions and Ogon makes breakfast for everyone, the witch retreats some distance away to take care of her own familiar.
You know that Yana has left a dog team and sled for you, but with extra personnel and loot, even with Sasha carrying, some of you will have to make the six mile journey on foot. It will take three to four hours to get you back in time for real proper halfling breakfast.
"We'll need to release the dogs once we get to Waldsby," says Nadya. "They will whine and howl if they get further from their masters, and will no doubt run back to the Tower."
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”Ila must have been magnificent. And she did not merely exist nor was she merely a beast - she was your friend. She is worth remembering. All life has value, from the smallest to the largest creature.” Hesitantly, he adds, ”if you’d like, I can commune with Erastil on the matter. He understands the bond between folks and their companions better than most - and he has been known to help all kinds of folks in need.”
Orik cocks his head when he’s asked about his past. Hesitantly he explains as they travel, speaking quietly to Chiquq but not so quietly that the others can’t overhear if they want to.
”Whuff, there’s some stories there... I suppose that the easiest would be to start as far back as I am aware. In Belkzen, a bit to the east of here, there is a tribe of orcs called the Haskodar. I’ve been told that they are more comfortable in caves and such. Anyway, there was a shaman of the tribe who had a relationship with a half-orc woman from Trunau, which is a free town of many folks that have held out against many attacks from the more violent and aggressive orcs in the area. He had to leave to attend to his duties, but he would return periodically to help teach the daughter he now had what he knew about leadership and magic. That daughter eventually left Trunau with a rakish Varisian bard from Ustalav who was a member of the Pathfinder society. They had a number of adventures, and eventually two kids” He points at himself ”settling and opening an inn. That’s where I was born and raised, and I learned everything about both survival and Erastil from her. Can’t say why she was drawn to his teachings, but my guess is that he was simple, decent, and generous, which is what she always aspired to be.”
He pauses for a moment before continuing, ”I try not to think about where other half-orcs come often from, but I am not so naive that I don’t know it is often violence and subjugation. But my mother found that adventuring is largely free of prejudice, and aside from the unlucky, is somewhat of a meritocracy, so she was able to make a name for herself without people judging her... much.”
He shrugs, ”as for me, I am nobody special! My sister and I grew up with relative wealth, we both did well in school, and both went to a famous university... which is like a super school for adults. My sister is much smarter than me, and most people for that matter! She managed to get through without ruffling feathers. I got into fights with bullies, and chose to exile myself rather than make life hard for my family. Since then I’ve been wandering around, helping people as I can. Erastil has provided much to me without judgement, so I feel I owe the big guy, and he helps me help other folks, especially poor folks living in tough areas like this. The only thing that ticks me off, is bullies, like I said. Otherwise, I try to act how I’d like other people to be, and kindness is the best way to manage that.”
He scratches his chin, and whispers to Chiquq conspiratorially,
”What’s your story? How did you get involved with these folks?”
Chiquq plods through the snow, listening to Orik's story, nodding here and there but seemingly content to let the half-orc tell his tale without interruptions.
She does dart a glance at him at his whispered aside, and slowly offers a half-smile in return to his wink.
When he asks of her, she shrugs, and tramps a dozen paces before answering, watching the white landscape around them for threats.
"I am a guide. I take southerners north to hunt the great beasts. Then I take them back home again. They give me money. It was a good life."
Everyone's breath steams in the air; Chiquq is momentarily diverted from her own laconic story by realizing that all of Ogon-the-hobgoblin seems to be similarly steaming. Humh. Or perhaps it's a trick of the light.
"Far south of here little spirit creatures attacked a town. I was there. And Yrja, Dezso... and others no longer present, including a kinsman of mine. We investigated. We..." Chiquq waves a hand as if to sum up the entirety of the strange experience that has led them here-- the portals, the fairies, the rider-- "...we came through a magic door. We went to a town. The witch-soldiers ambushed us there, and took my kinsman, and the others. They are who you helped us free, back in the tower."
Chiquq takes another dozen steps before saying anything further. "Yrja and Dezso have taught me not to judge by ancestry. I thought them both spirits, and strange and a little fearful, when we met." Chiquq pitches her voice a little louder as she adds on: "They have proven themselves both true, and brave, and kind."
If Yrja happens to meet her gaze, Chiquq offers a brief smile at the other woman.
"And so if you have orc blood, or if... Ogon here... has even wilder... I will judge not by this, but by what you do, what you say. This much, I have learned now."
To Orik's offer to commune with Erastil, Chiquq only shakes her head.
Dezső walks close enough to hear Orik's tale, not concealing his interest in learning more about his fellow countryman, but trying not to intrude. But he cannot resist speaking up when Orik mentions a "famous university." "Have I told you I grew up within the confines of Lepidstadt University? Is that where you attended? It is the most famous university in Ustalav. If so, I am only a little surprised I did not run across you or hear about you. There were few half-orc students, but I spent most of my time in the Antiquities Department, among the fencing students, and hiding in corners of the libraries."
”No, you haven’t! You seem pretty smart, so I don’t doubt that. Yes, I was there a number of years ago, but only for about two years before ‘my troubles’. You may have met my sister though; last time we spoke she was finishing some post graduate work trying to ‘bring empiricism to natural philosophy’ or something, by trying to incorporate the experimental processes more commonly found in alchemical research to an understanding of the natural world.” Orik throws up air quotes as he recalls her studies. ” Most of that was beyond me - I was more interested in regular old boring philosophy and whathave you. Haha, it’s all so confusing!” Orik looks awkwardly at Dez, ”Anya Rostov? Her advisor was Theodoros Kleinmann.”
"I never made her acquaintance, but I wish I had! Perhaps some day. I may not have made it clear, but I was not actually enrolled at the University. Rather, Professor Montagnie Crowl of the Department of Antiquities took me under his wing after I was abandoned at the Department's doorstep. I only started to dabble in alchemy towards the end of my time in Lepidstadt, but through visits to the reclusive Count Alpon Caromarc outside of town, not through studies at the University. I'm sure I would have gotten to know your sister and Professor Kleinmann had I remained in Lepidstadt, but I was run out of town after I tried to investigate Professor Crowl's murder. Perhaps you heard about that. I uncovered some information suggesting it was politically motivated and barely escaped town with my life."
Yrja listens very interestedly to all these revelations. She had been traveling with Chiquq and Dez for a while now, or so it seemed, but some things are new to her. As Chiquq mentions her specifically, her cheeks turn a deeper shade of purple as the tiefling blushes, and Yrja briefly turns to throw her arms around the other woman in a hug.
As Orik and Dez discuss alchemy, she pipes up. "Alchemy - this is like mixing things together, yes? I do a bit of that, but mostly with plants and herbs and berries and such. Mahb taught me, she is the aunt of one of those that were taken and that we rescued in the tower. And my mentor, of course." She thinks for a moment. "I'm sorry that your professor got murdered."
A brief sadness passes over Dez's usually stoic face: "Thank you, Yrja. Professor Crowl meant so much to me. Although he did not train me the way Mahb trained you, he taught me I had value and it was his respect for my intellect -- as well as my success in sparring the fencing students -- that gave me the confidence that has allowed me to survive outside the protection of the University grounds. In the little time we have spent together I have seen the same sort of confidence emerging in you."
"And, yes, in its usual form alchemy is not so different from the herbalism you practice. The starting materials are different, more chemical compounds extracted from rocks than plant matter, but the principle of combining materials in particular proportions to achieve certain predictable results is the same. The alchemy I started to learn from Count Caromac and that I have most recently finally been able to use with some effectiveness is a different matter. My ability to create extracts that protect me from the cold, or to stretch my arms to unnatural lengths, is not merely the product of adding different materials according to set formulas. The alchemist brings magic to the process that allows the materials to transform, to metamorphose, to become a product that is far greater than the sum of its parts."
"My tribe had many alchemists." Ogon offers, his voice gruff. "We use them for building, fire, that sort of thing - along with our flamewielders. Only way to fight the witchs and their pet dogs!" The anger in his voice is palpable.
"Ursine - who was to be my mate - she was a good alchemist. She could make many things. But I don't know where she is any longer..."
He sounds almost... sad?
Dezső listens with interest and surprise to Ogon's revelations. "I'm sorry about Ursine. How is it that you ended up a captive in that tower? I think you said your tribe was attacked? By the witches? Where was that?" Dez can't contain his curiosity.
”Oh gosh, someone murdered Monty? That must have been a dark day for Lepidstadt. He was brilliant, as far as I knew. Ustalav can be a den of vipers - I think Anya has survived so long because the only people she crosses are alchemists and philosophers. The most violent thing they do is write letters to academic journals... usually. No, no I hadn’t heard that. Though I’ve been ranging around for a while and was out of contact. My magic isn’t strong enough to send messages over long distances yet. I’m so sorry that you lost your family. I understand completely, which is why I exiled myself. The few messages I have gotten have indicated that was for the best - it’s a big world and there’s lots to do beyond sulking in a pumpkin patch!” Orik smiles broadly at Dez.
”Aye, Yrja, though you’d know more ‘bout it than I would. Sounds like Mahb was a good teacher, though I’d bet Dezsö could start teaching her a few tricks at this point. Those trained in magical alchemy can create wonders, as Dezsö says.”
He turns to Ogon, when the hobgoblin adds his peace, ”We do not know how long you were trapped in the ice, do we? I’m up for visiting where your tribe is to take a look around, maybe they’ve moved on but it could be worth a shot. We just have to get all of our stuff sold and organized so we can travel light and then we should be able to head most places. The only trouble could come from the fact that we can’t easily leave Irrisen, if your people were outside of the country. I’m still not sure how I got past the spirits. Must’ve been dumb luck! Or Erastil. I’m sorry for what the witches stole from you. It isn’t fair - but we have already started to collect the payments that they owe us.” He gives Ogon a look of fierce admiration.
Dezső returns Orik's smile, the half-orc's good cheer piercing the tiefling's sad recollections: "I'm sure your sister knows all about the murder of Professor Crowl..."
"... I had intended to return to Lepidstadt sometime soon, but I've now found greater purpose with all of you. Indeed, I somehow feel I was always meant to take this journey North."
The sled/slog back to Nadya's house is blessedly uneventful. Nadya scowls when she reaches her door, though, and Kashka, the old woman who looks after her sons, appears.
"What is this nonsense?" Nadya barks, although it's not at Kashka. There's a note stamped on the door with a red waxen seal. She rips it off the door, reads it, then throws it in the snow and stomps on it. "Katrina and Emil, acting as Citizen's Watch. Well, I was already leaving, matyeryebyets. Orm! Moli! Get your things. Kashkuya, you have to go to your niece's place. I am sorry."
She storms inside. "Well, come in and take off your boots!" she shouts, not even turning around. You can hear her deeper in the house, yelling at/for Hatch.
Dezső picks up the note and reads it to the group.
The seal is some trumped up Citizen's Watch thing, Nadya would have reacted differently if it was more official. The note is pretty illegible due to the snow and stomping, but it's some nonsense about "Crimes against our Holy State of Irrisen". There's no indication that Katrina and Emil actually sent word to anyone, since all the authorities were back in the Tower.
Orik puts his hand on Dezső's shoulder, "What do you say that once we figure out what's going on here, we head back to Ustalav. See if we can't get a little justice?" He grins at Dezső.
Orik follows the party's lead, as he isn't sure what else he can do.
"Nadya, while you get packed up, I'm going to see if I can get some provisions and other minor things. Who is missing snowshoes? Also, if we pick up a large sled, we can make good time with Sasha - off of the beaten path. The roads may be watched... I would also like to see if anyone in town needs help, if I can provide it."
"I can talk to them if you want?" Ogon offers, although he doesn't make it sound like a polite chat over a cup of tea...
” we should certainly gather any supplies we need, but I would discourage either of you from wandering around town unnecessarily. Last time we were here that did not go so well .”
”That's too bad - can we nab just a few supplies then? You can come with me. We have a hard trek ahead of us.”
The note evokes an uneasy feeling in Yrja, conjuring images of angry peasant mobs with torches and pitchforks. At Dezső's warning she nods fervently.
"Yes, we should stay away from the people in this town. We can maybe stop at a farm on the way, perhaps Nadya knows a place, or we can just..." She shrugs, but the tension and discomfort is evident in her stance.
Even Ogon realises Yrja is uncomfortable.
"I will protect you, good-witch-Yrja." He says firmly. "No people will hurt you."
Memories of Ursine spring back to mind, as fresh as the day they parted, which still feels like hours ago to Ogon.
"Yes, I will be happy to accompany you to buy supplies. I bought some before, so I hope the storekeeper will be welcoming. And, again yes, I would be proud to return to Ustalav with you when this is all over, to see that justice was done and to talk alchemy with your sister."
Accompanied by his more seasoned companions, Orik will head to Verana's sundries and pick up some stuff.
Orik says, "We should get a scroll that Yrja can use to speed our travel - there is a spell called Nature's Paths. Does anyone know who would sell scrolls in this town? We could pay them a visit."
Dezső will also pick up supplies for crafting some alchemical items, which I imagine would be available.
Chiquq moves with the others, and advises against anyone going off alone-- quick to relate the ambush that had faced them last time. For her part she almost hopes to run into the treacherous innkeepers, and keeps a hand near her bow.
She asks around for curative scrolls, and flasks of acid, and cold iron arrows.
Verana's Sundries has acid flasks and two scrolls of use
[ooc]Apologies for the delay, folks; busy being a rock and roll bard this whole week.
The Shackled Hut, Part One: Journey to Whitethrone
Soon after "second breakfast", a bit after proper dawn, you are buttoned up and on your way. It's not a particularly fast journey, with most of the party walking in snowshoes and a donkey and muskox trundling along. Hatch, the domovoi of Nadya's house, folds his arms fearsomely (if a tiny fey can be fearsome), bows to you, and magically shuts the door to Nadya's place with finality. Orm and Moli are quiet, sitting on the small area of the dogsled not filled with supplies.
Despite the slow progress, Waldsby is soon a dot with drifting chimneysmoke to mark its location. It is mid-morning, or "snack time", if any of you were halflings.
You see wildlife of Irrisen now--arctic fox, other musk oxen, a wooly rhinoceros out in the distance, and squawking song birds, skua, great eagles, and of course, ravens.
Nadya frowns and juts her chin upward. There are a half dozen ravens circling above your caravan.
Orik quickly leads the party to make the required group purchases at Verana's sundries, and as each of the other group members picks up their requested items, he liquidates some of their stuff to get the currency required to help Ogon buy a magic belt.
Orik travels quietly, with Sasha pulling the sled system they created forward, until he notices Nadya, and whispers, "Jairess? Or another spy?"
Chiquq certainly purchases the cold iron arrowheads.
***
"More to the point," the Kellid woman says darkly while watching the wheeling bird shapes, "shall I shoot them?"
So far, the ravens just lazily circle. Perhaps they're enjoying the lack of fey with wee arrows about.
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The night before, Yrja had spent some time studying their newly acquired scroll, squinting angrily at the arcane words and symbols. She was not used to learning magic this way, and she struggles making sense of it. As dinner time comes around, she has yet to make any progress, and she eats her meal in silence punctuated by huffs and grumbles.
As she reluctantly returns to the study of the scroll, she finds it missing. With a mix of puzzlement and relief, she goes to bed, planning to search for it in the morning. Even more curiously, her bat familiar is nowhere to be found, either.
Come dawn, Pufos returns, off-white flecks caught in the fur on its chest. The others can overhear Yrja uttering an incredulous "You ATE it?! Why?!".
However, after an hour or so passes and the party is well on the way on their sleds and snowshoes, the young witch suddenly gasps and points in a direction slightly off their path. "Oh, it all makes sense now! There are many creatures in these lands that make hidden paths, and we can follow those for a speedier passage. And the rivers are frozen, so we can use those for travel as well, rather than being confined to human-made roads."
since the return to Waldsby, Dezső has seemed unusually distracted, lost in thoughts or perhaps searching his memories. He occasionally mutters things to himself like, "Why does this seem familiar?" or "It's just out of reach, right at the edge of consciousness." He does accompany Orik and Chiquq on the shopping expedition, but buys little, just an odd assortment of herbs.
He stays distracted as the group begins its travel, but he becomes alert and interested as Yrja discusses her acquisition of the new spell, and animatedly asks Yrja as many questions as she will tolerate about the process, and her magical connection to her familiar.
Ogon on the other hand seems entirely focused, but extremely grumpy! He continues to sleep only lightly, but even with his new belt his fires don't seem to burn the way they did when he first met the rest of the group.
"Their numbers have doubled," says Nadya quietly, "In the last ten minutes."
She slows down the dog team, drawing to a halt. The dogs whine and pant, eager to continue.
Orik whispers, "Ravens are good here in Irrisen, right? Crows are the bad guys? Also, didn't I get in trouble the last time I smooshed some?"
"All birds are witches spies." Ogon grunts. "We should burn them!"
"Who is it who says that ravens are good, here?" Chiquq says uncertainly. "I do not like the look of them. Why are they gathering, if not to observe us? I am inclined to agree with Ogon."
Chiquq draws an arrow and sets it deliberately on the string, gazing up at the wheeling flock with narrowed gaze.