Dawn arrives, with Ogon still fuming by the campfire. Dez and Orik, you can tell that your rations have all been fouled. They are...dripping. It's as if a month's worth of mildew and rot were visited on your trail rations and, oddly and disgustingly enough, to your waterskins. Nothing else has been disturbed.
"Something got in during the night." Ogon reports. "Spoiled food. I could not catch them."
He makes a clenching gesture with his fists, leaving no doubt as to what he would have liked to have done.
Nadya arches a brow and begins to look around the camp.
"Footprints...but I can't tell where they lead. Too much snow has fallen," she says. She points them out--sets of little clawed feet that could be anything, and fade off soon after they leave the campsite.
"We should press on. Get away from small creatures." Ogon suggests, even though the rapidly melting patch of snow around him shows that his temper is not as 'cool' as it might be.
Dez kicks at the ruined food in frustration. "The work of some fey no doubt. And I thought they couldn't get more annoying." After helping with the campsite his prepare his extracts and is ready to continue.
Orik yawns and then scrunches up his nose at the smell, ”Glad I slept outdoors, it must have been a bear to wake up to that stench. Is it our food?! Let me pray a bit, maybe Erastil will let me fix this. I wonder how it happened, though. Faeries maybe?” Orik scratches his beard and thinks for a bit.
Orik is able to rapidly repair the magically putrefied food and drink. He cannot for the life of him think of what could have caused this. Nadya simply swears and prepares some breakfast for her boys, shaking her head.
"Ah ha, everything looks good. Now, I bet it's some grumpkin or something. So let's be on guard for them? Not that there's much we can do. Hey grumpkins - if you're hungry we have food. We mean you no harm." He says this loudly, to noone in particular, then shrugs. "Wish I could figure out what type of grumpkin, but I'll leave that to the taxonomical experts among us." He quickly packs up the stuff and casts endure elements on himself before they depart.
"A few of the fae could have done this, difficult to say without more details. Good thing that you were able to undo the effects, Orik." Yrja smiles at the half-orc with admiration. "Ugh, they're such pests." She clenches her small fists, remembering their too-often encounters with the annoying fey over the last few weeks.
Chiquq, as soon as the rotted food is brought up, shakes her head. "An inconvenience-- I also know a prayer similar to the one you used, though," she remarks with a wry smile to Orik. "I suppose you get yours through your god. Mine is simply a prayer of my people. But it is good we are both prepared in this way, so that this tactic of whoever is harrying us is pointless."
She doesn't know the nature of the presumed fey who spoiled their food, but she has an eagle's eye for tracking, especially in the snow. She follows the tracks Nadya points out as long as is feasible... "Give me a moment. I want to see where these go."
Chiquq's eyes are keen, and can see that the tracks continue where Nadya cannot. They are faint, beneath the snow, even, but leave a slight impression in the fresh powder. They lead to the copse of trees not far from their camp.
"The trees over there," Chiquq says with a narrowed gaze. "That little copse. I do not want to be harangued by these pests in more deadly ways; I suggest we see if we can find them now?"
"Certainly." Ogon agrees. "I hate Witchcraft!"
"And remember they can turn invisible." Yrja adds, gazing towards the copse. She kicks lightly at the powdery snow and watches as a small cloud of glittery crystals rises into the cold air. "But perhaps this time there is something we can do to help with that."
Orik grips his sword, ”Aye, agreed. Well done Chiquq, you have sharp eyes, we should pummel these interlopers.”
The search leads you to more tracks in a hollow surrounded by trees, leading to a teeny, tiny cave dug under the roots of several tall, stately pines. You can see some cups, a tiara, and other bits of finery strewn about the entrance, in obvious disrepair (is that...? That isn't mud on that silk scarf, is it.) Several pairs of orange, shining eyes blink at you from inside the dark cave.
You can see a small group of sharp toothed, grinning, bat eared creatures, about two feet tall. They look stinky and horrific, like upright humanoid dog/bat/rat beasties. Generally disgusting. They are fey, so a Kn Nature roll can identify them, potentially.
"Ugh. Okay..." He shouts toward the cave. "Oy, fey folk. We would have words. What's the deal with messing with our food - you could hurt someone." He frowns at the cave. "Come out and we can talk."
Orik's query is met with a series of what is undeniably curses and profanity from the wee orange eyed beasties.
"No! Ugly orc face! You smell like human and Old Deadeye! Go jump in a cowflop! Bear scat, hare scat, wooly faced camel scat, you get eaten by a big fat snow cat!"
Their rhyming is not the most noble or exemplary you've heard.
After their string of invectives, the keener sensed ones among you detect a wee magical pulse and a stir in the air, and then they are gone, the eyes, scent, and giggling disappear. Well, not all of the scent.
"Rude! Stinky rude fey!" Yrja shouts back in Sylvan, in response to the string of invectives.
Chiquq can't understand the words, but she grasps the tone well enough. She snorts.
"If they will not talk to us," she says with the hint of a half-smile, "then we will just have to make up the cost of our ruined food from their possessions, won't we? That crown and that scarf, for instance..."
Chiquq makes to move towards the items to grab them, testing to see if the nasty little spirits will rise to her bait.
Yrja realizes that those little orange eyed jerks were jinkins, a rather annoying type of gremlin. They are known for spoiling food.
They are certainly gone from their little cave, to who knows where.
Chiquq picks up the crown. The scarf has "night soil" on it and will require some washing/prestidigitation/deodorizing before one would want to touch it extensively.
Orik shrugs at their invective, "I don't speak your language, you little monsters. Oh well, let's take all the treasure junk from them. We can make better use of it than they can, though it will all require washing." He detects magic and tries to grab the things that seem valuable, stuffing them into a sack.
"Hmfff... I suppose we'll have to keep a further eye out for them, but yes, in the meantime, we will claim our recompense."
She grimaces at the soiling. "...carefully, and with created water."
She suits action to word, trying to rinse off the worst of the filth before they add it to their packs.
"Oh, you don't want to know what they said, Orik." Yrja pats the half-orc on the arm. "They're a type of gremlin, the kind who likes to spoil food. Annoying little jerks."
She examines the reclaimed treasure trove with interest.
Yrja cannot tell what the aura is on the items. It's necromantic. Moreover, it's the same type of aura on several items.
Ogon grunts and keeps looking around, seemingly certain the minute fey will return.
Buhlman is a Harsh God and I am His Right Hand
Despite Ogon's vocalizations and stomping, the fey do not reappear.
Orik takes a gander at the items and other things in the cave, as well.
"Uh, I would be careful touching these things. Fey are notorious pranksters, I would not put it past them to let us take these items and have them be cursed or something."
Yrja is looking very doubtful at the pile of junk treasure.
"Whatever is magic we should take, at least-- wise not to use it until we know what it does, I agree. Some of these things may be valuable even if not magical..."
"I agree. The belongings of these foul creatures are forfeit and should be confiscated to assist our quest."
My understanding is you need detect magic to use spellcraft to ID magic items, so Dez just stands guard, rapier at the ready, while the others gather and identify items.
”But my inspection also leads me to the same curious conclusion as Yrja. Why are allthese trinkets imbued with the same necromantic magic? I would not want any of us to suffer another curse, as Ogon has. But, If you really want to, I will volunteer to grab them, Erastil has blessed me with resilience to many types of magic. I may be the least likely to be affected.” Orik points to his shamanic tattoos, peeking out from his sleeves.
”That said, we should take this crown and scarf at least - provided we can clean this crud off.”
Orik can tell that the tiara is, indeed, cursed. The other ones, he cannot identify.
"Agh, the crown is cursed. This whole thing is probably cursed. Ugh, this is just like Gremlins. Do you want me to try and handle it? The stuff might be worse something if I can shake off the effects." Orik looks greener than usual.
"No. We do not need more curses!" Ogon grunts. "I cursed. Ring cursed. Crown cursed. I hate witchcraft!"
"How do these cursed items work? Can they be safely handled if you don't put them on, or do they do their harm if you just touch it? I don't think we want to take the risk if they can do harm just by touch."
Dez is able to determine that the curse would only activate if worn or otherwise used in an activation-type activity. The other items in the cave may have once been useful magical items, but constant misuse and repeated curses have ruined them entirely. The tiara and shawl, however, might be useable once freed of curses.
”Let’s take the good studc and junk the rest. I might be able to decurse everyone and everything if I don’t die horribly to a curse or witch’s ice powers.” Orik shrugs, and then says ”Hear that, you stinkbrains! We didn’t fall for your trick!” to nobody in particular, with a smug look on his face.
The day's slog is uneventful as you move onward from the jinkin's woods.
Nadya is quite able as a guide and hunter, and you have a few arctic hares to add to your evening meal. You pass among snowdrifts, hills, spots of forest, and wind whipped tundra.
Coming out of the tundra, you come to an area of harder snow, with a little less powder to it.
You soon hear the peculiar sound of thousands of hooves on snow--a sort of thunder/squeak sound that grows to almost deafening. Within a minute, an enormous caribou herd begins to pass you to the East, a good half mile away.
Nadya frowns. "Look," she says.
Several towering humanoids, perhaps fifteen feet tall, follow the herd. You can hear their booming voices from here. Their bare blue skin glitters with trinkets and bits of fur--no need for all-encompassing jackets and pantaloons for these behemoths.
Those are giants of some kind.
Oh sweet Sarenrae, those are frost giants. Very warlike, as likely to crush humans into bits as to enslave them--or just ignore them. Smaller races are like vermin to them. They like taking slaves, though.
"We'd best stay out of sight. Those are frost giants. We're like vermin to them. Maybe they'd decide to ignore us, or maybe they'd crush us, or maybe they'd enslave us. I don't want to take our chances."
Orik blinks, and puts his hand up to watch them briefly. "Agreed, stay down in the snow." Orik hunkers down with his bow drawn, peering over the edge of the snow and watching, hoping that the giants pass.
"Eep!"
Yrja swiftly burrows into the furs and blankets piled on the sled.
Ogon by contrast stands stock still in the snow.
Dez will gently try to bring Ogon back to a concealed spot. He says quietly to the hobgoblin so others cannot hear: "Ogon, I know you have no fear. But if the giants come they may eat Nadya's children. Please come and hide. You stand out light a torch in the snow."
"If I move I leave track." Ogon responds quietly/ "I stay still - no tracks and no movement, so giant less likely to see."
"They can see you better than any track, you fool," says Nadya. Then she pauses. "If we could get ahead of the reindeer, we could run with them for a while and perhaps not be seen, and leave no track either. Or we just hide. The trouble is--" she pauses.
The trouble is that the reindeer may be naturally headed your way anyhow, due to the lay of the land.
"You'd know best Nadya, I'll follow your lead." Orik says anxiously.