Kobad simply moves forward, seems the trees prevent a solid target.
Quickly taking stock of the situation Nadya wastes no time in letting an arrow fly at the wounded wolf.
The arrow buries itself deep in the worgs chest. It stumbles but manages to keep it's feet, if only barely.
Tough receives the order he has been waiting for all this time.. "ATTACK!"
He steps forward, and lunges into the wolf with all his might and weight.
Meanwhile, Natasza tries to flank to the left, like the wolves do, and confuse them coming from all sides. She whirls the stone quickly in her piece of cloth, and releases at the right time.
Tough pushes forward and gores the wolf right before Natasza's stone hits with a loud crack. The worg is significantly injured but still on it's feet. Spinning it turns on the young mammoth.
Biting deeply it pulls and tears at Tough. Only his natural resilience keeps him on his feet.
Cyrus maintains his position, taking a swing at the warg standing in front of him, hoping he gets as lucky with this swing as he did the first.
Unfortunately, the damage he's taken from the creatures tearing at him and dragging him to the ground makes it difficult for him and his swing falls short.
Heavily wounded and with more and more foes appearing two of the worgs gives a last threatening snarl and retreat into the far woodline.
Natasha moves up next to the injured ranger and reaches out a gloved hand.
The energies that flow over you chill you to the bone but leave your wounds significantly improved.
Seeing two of the creatures retreat, Droguk concentrates on the one remaining.
Sending it's head flying, Droguk ponders going after the others but decides against it. Looking to the elk, "The beast may still live, Landwarden, I will help you in any way I can."
Kobad arrives a little late to be of use. many of the critters have fled, and the remaining one was in enough trouble, the need for magic use is not really warranted.
no point wasting a spell.
Kobad simply lets the others handle the remaining enemy.
of course lacking healing ability, and lacking knowledge of the elf or its significance, Kobad lets the more knowledgeable handle things for now.
instead he simply looks out for other enemies.
As soon as the last warg is dead, Cyrus is kneeling, inspecting the elk that lay unconscious at his feet. "Does anyone have any healing magics? We've got to get him back on his feet; I'm not leaving him for one of those beasts to come back for once we've moved on." he says, clearly concerned for the well-being of the animal.
Droguk reaches into his pack and pulls out a vial. "I have this you could use," he says, offering the potion.
Cyrus takes it gratefully, thanking his friend for the use of it, then turns the elk's head to the side, pouring the potion into its mouth and turning its head so that it trickles down its throat.
The potions curative magics seem as effective on the elk as they are on others. Some of the more major wounds visibly improve though many still remain. After a moment the elks eyes blink open and the huge creature bolts to it's feet in a panic. Spinning and snorting with it's massive rack lowered as it tries to face everyone at once.
"Hey, big guy! Settle down now, settle down. Don't everybody crowd around him, stay on one side, so he can see us all at the same time..." Cyrus says in a calm, low voice, his hands out and palms down, again trying to get the animal to drop its guard.
"The wargs are gone. We got some of them. See?" he adds, pointing toward the ones they managed to kill before the others bolted.
Taking Cyrus's queue Nadya does what she can to assist. Sheathing her weapons she coos to the beast in a similar calming voice while slowly backing the rest of the party up.
As the moments pass Cyrus's efforts begin to have an effect. The wild look in the elks eyes begins to calm as does it's breathing. With another snort it takes a few lenitive steps forward, a noticeable limp in it's steps. Slowly Cyrus reaches out and places his hand on the beasts muzzle which breakes the last of the tension.
"There you go...not so bad, am I? Er...are we?" he asks, smiling as the elk allows him to place his hand on his muzzle.
Natasza keeps Tough back so the creature does not spook from her..
"Is.. Is she okay?" she whispers from a distance, unable to come closer as nothing will hold Tough back then.
Cyrus gives the elk a quick look over, always being sure the animal can see him as much as possible, as he examines the wounds it sustained. "I think he'll be fine. Might be weakened for a while because of the attack, but he seems like he'll pull through. You've got some gumption to you, huh big guy? I...we...appreciate your help there." Cyrus says with a smile, patting the elk's muzzle as he comes back to the fore.
"Gotta come up with a good name for you if you're gonna be sticking around, huh? Don't you worry, fella. I'll come up with a good one. Lemme think about it for a bit though, ok?" he adds, a hand still resting on the animal's side as he looks over to Natasha. "I don't suppose you still have any healing spells left, do you? Was so worried about him that I wasn't even thinkin' about myself...and I'm still pretty banged up."
Natasza takes a couple of berries out of her pocket, and enchants them slightly.
"Here, feed him these. They will aid him in regaining his strength, and close his wounds."
The elk gratefully devours the berries giving the small druid a lick on the face in appreciation. Natasha, in her usual manner, provides healing for those injured and the party soon moves on. After a few hours you reach the other side of the pocket and with regret you move back into Irrisens deadly chill. The sudden change makes the cold bite all the more.
After another two days of travel Nadya points out Glacier Lake on the horizon. The massive central lake of Irrisen glimmers even in the slight sunlight. A bit more traveling brings you to where a small river cuts across the path, heading south toward the cliffs that overlook Glacier Lake. A stone bridge corsses the river, seemingly constructed with horse, wagon and caravan traffic in mind. The bridge is well maintained and the snow has been cleared from the span. Four foot high stone railings run along both sides of the bridge, topped at either end by iron spikes upon which clean and meticulously polished skulls have been carefully impaled and turned as if to observe the traffic. A white painted signpost greets those who approach from the East.
Noticing the bridge, "It looks like we've arrived." He then looks over at Natasha. "How do we approach, Witch Queen? Weapons drawn, striking down all who stand in our way?" he asks impassively.
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For the next two days, Cyrus spends most of his time with his new companion, certain never to leave the animal's side. Even after being healed completely, it seems like some of the damage from the attack by the wargs is beyond the ability of the party to heal, as he still walks with a noticeable limp, slower than he might otherwise be. It was likely something that was just going to have to heal on its own, since they wouldn't be able to afford any kind of stronger magic of regeneration.
He takes great care in choosing a name for their new companion, wanting to be certain that their new friend will be called something that is worthy of a beast so magnificent. Even without a name, though, he begins training him, using small berries and other bits of flora that he finds along the trailsides as training aides. Of course, it is no easy task, but Cyrus takes to the megafauna very quickly and the affection seems to be returned in kind. It almost seems as if the gods themselves arranged the meeting of the two.
Some of the tricks are not necessarily terribly difficult; after all, with he, Nadya, and Natasza present, it could be seen to in such a way as to be sure it stuck relatively quickly. Of course, teaching him to "Stay" was not quite the same thing as teaching him to be ridden, and after the first and second unsuccessful attempts at mounting the beast, it was clear that more training was going to be needed. But...hopefully soon. He seems to grow quickly fond of not just Cyrus, but the others as well, displaying a particular affection for Nadya that has Cyrus inwardly concerned that, if his new friend can so quickly discern his particular attachments, they are more-or-less slapping the others in the face. Not that he was ever much for subtlety in the first place...
On the morning of the second day, Cyrus awakes with a name in his mind, his very own Eureka! moment, and he dubs the elk "Duneyrr," a name that, when loosely translated into its tongue of origin, means "Thundering in the Ear."
When they finally come in sight of the lake, Cyrus gives a low whistle, and he remarks offhandedly that he can't recall ever seeing an inland body of water as big as that.
At first, Cyrus is glad to see the well-built structure allowing them to cross...until he sees the skulls impaled on the spikes, turned as if to stare at them. Duneyrr stamps his hoof in the ground, snorting quietly, and Cyrus pats him on the side. "Yeah, yeah...I know, bud. Kinda creeps me out, too. This a pretty common thing to see in these parts, Nadya?"
"Hate stone bridges, they never feel right.." Natasza says while seeing it for the first time in her life.
During the trip she was talking a lot, mostly to Cyrus to "help" him train his elk better and faster, but she was beginning to suspect "Okay" meant he still wanted to do it his own way, and make his own mistakes. After two days, she let him try it on his own, and just giggled in her coat when the mighty beast threw him to the ground, again, and again.
Droguks statement draw a curt laugh from Natasha. "Do you not understand where we are going? Perhaps backwater Waldsby or Elsprin have sullied your thoughts. This is not a collection of hovels we travel to but Whitethrone, capital of Irrisen." she says shaking her head at the very notion of charging the city.
Nadya picks up more kindly, "Whitethrone is a city of tens of thousands Droguk and the seat of the White Witches power. Once we cross the bridge we should reach it's outskirts with another half a days travel or so. I think it would be best to seek out my husbands uncle Ringeirr Malenkov. He's a good man and is familiar with getting in and out of the city. The last I knew he was living in the fish camps outside of the city. I'll take you there if you wish." Noting Cyrus looking at the skulls Nadya replies, "Just an early reminder of the order of things in Irrisen."
Kobad was not exactly happy to be trudging in snow and ice again, he rather enjoyed the warm respite they had. but still, a mission had to be accomplished, and they came all this way, might as well look into defeating some witches while we are here.
he was quiet on the journey, not much to add. he always tried to keep his fire magic hidden from others they may have come across. the presence of his sword would hopefully add to the ruse. of course who in these parts would even use a scimitar?
looking to the skulls, not an uncommon practice, seen the same tactic used by warlords in the Qadirian deserts.
turning to Nadya, That would be a good idea. please do lead the way.
Nodding in agreement with Kobad, "Lead us to your family, Lady of the Tent. We will follow."
"Sheesh. Pretty harsh tactics." he off-handedly replies.
"Another half a day or so, huh? Maybe by then I'll have this 'riding' thing down. Who knew it would be so hard to teach a wild animal to let someone sit on his back for extended periods of time?" Cyrus adds, the tone of his voice indicating the comment is made in jest. "I'm looking forward to meeting him once we get there, then. I hope that we find he is in good health."
The party pushes forward and begins crossing the bridge. As you approach you can now read the sign which advises in three languages that foreign merchants headed to Whitethrone require licenses to do business in the city and that they may be stopped for inspection without cause. Those seeking licenses should apply at the city gates.
Before yo have much chance to consider the message you note three large, pale green skinned humanoids crouched on the other side of the bridge. Looking up at your approach they rise and one takes a step forward, "Papers please" it asks in heavily accented common. You note strands of aquatic plants mixed in with it's tangled hair and the hand it extends is obviously webbed.
"For what reason do we require papers? We are no merchants."
The creature seems confused for a moment, looks back at it's fellows and then turns back to you and says, "All needs papers. No papers you pay bridge tax."
"But the sign that's right there..." Cyrus says, gesturing to the sign before continuing,"clearly states that papers are only required if we are foreign merchants headed to Whitethrone for the purpose of conducting business. We are not conducting business; we are here to visit the relative of a member of our group."
The speaker seems confused again and looks at the sign as if seeing it for the first time.
The towering creature scratches it's head through scraggly hair.
'Right...sign...you go." it says waving you by.
Droguk looks over at Cyrus in his typical stoic manner, "Well done, Landwarden," and claps him on the back before proceeding onward.
Kobad covers himself as they pass the "tax collectors" he tries to keep any sign of his heritage hidden, avoiding being noticed or worse, accused of something.
You pass by the creatures without incident or further interaction beyond a few long stares that seem focused primarily on Tough, Duneyrr and your sled dogs.
Passing the bridge you enter a wood of leafless birch trees. After a few hours of relatively easy travel the walls of the city of Whitethrone come into view in the distance. The city stands on the cliffs overlooking the lake and before you can reach it Nadya changes direction and leads you down towards the water.
It's not long before the cry of circling gulls draws your eyes to a shanty town made up of ramshackle huts in the distance. After a bit more traveling you can make out the doreis and other small fishing boats moored to dilapidated piers or pulled upon the grey pebbled beach. The stink of fish is heavy on the air.
During your walk Nadya fills the time with a bit more information about her late husbands uncle. "Back when Hjalnek was a boy Ringeirr's wife and sone were taken by the White Witches and brought to Whitethrone. He followed and eventually found ways into the city but was never able to rescue or even find them. As time passed he stayed and used the skills and contacts he'd made to start smuggling things into the city. The last I heard he was living somewhere in the Fishcamps just ahead."
Cyrus doesn't seem to mind the stares that his new friend receives; if anything, he seems proud that he stands out as much as he does. A sore thumb, perhaps, but one that was not going to get picked on!
"The more I hear about these Witches, the less I like them...no offense to you, Natasha. Lording your power over people, using it to take children, wives, and husbands from their homes at the slightest offenses...despotic bullies is what they are. Burns me up that we're doing this stuff to find out what happened to the woman who started it all, but if we don't, the whole world might eventually turn into this."
After a moment of silent reflection, Cyrus adds,"Maybe we could help Ringeirr find out what happened to his wife and son. I hope such an opportunity may arise, at least. If he can get us into the city, it seems like an appropriate way to say 'thank you.'"
"Then we will search the Fishcamps. What does he look like?" he asks Nadya. Once a description is giving, he heads into the camp and looks around.
Nadya gives a brief and somewhat general description of the man. It's clear as she does so that it's been some years since she last saw him. Heading into the Fishcamp you find a maze of hovels on hard packed earth. Here and there you see villagers going about their daily tasks, stringing nets, gutting fish, etc. You're presence draws long stares and many find reason to be somewhere else as you walk down the lanes.
Looking about you don't see anyone that matches Nadya's description.
Seeing as there is no one around that matches Ringeirr's description, Cyrus takes it upon himself to speak to people that are nearby, whether they seem willing to listen or not, trying to briefly explain that they are searching for a long-lost uncle and giving short hints at his appearance.
You have some trouble getting the locals to talk with out. Many leave when you try and approach them while others refuse to speak with you. The few who will give short answers and deny knowing Ringeirr. Eventually while not too far from the docks you strike up a conversation with an older fisherman. The man has the appearance of one who has spent the majority of his life outside in the elements. His left hand is missing a pair of fingers and his forearms are covered in old scars.
At first he seems ready to send you away but then he seems to consider you again and says, "Ya I know Ringeirr. We all do, he's a good man and done a lot for the `camp." He pauses and spits off to the side before continuing in a low voice, "You won't be finding him about though, and it's best you stop askin' around about him. He's been arrested by the Fishcamp Guards." he says the last name with a derisive sneer.
Cyrus hesitates in his response, glancing back at Nadya for a brief moment. His first instinct is to bring up the tragic passing of Hjalnek, but he doesn't want to bring sad memories up to Nadya, either. Still...without more information, they were not likely to find it simple to proceed, so he decides to mention it, anyway.
"Arrested? Well...that'll put a damper on things...is there somewhere we might go to inquire further? Several of us are travelers from afar and we were interesting in seeing the Irriseni capital. This woman has acted as our guide; she is the widow of his deceased nephew and she was hoping to have the chance to see him while we are here. It's been years since they were last able to speak." he replies, gesturing to Nadya. He does his best to feign ignorance of any kind of local knowledge...which probably isn't that difficult a thing for him to do, considering he's pretty far from being a local. He is notably careful not to mention Nadya's name, though, wanting to avoid getting her in any trouble as much as he can.
"Mighty kind of you to drop in on family" he says clearly not buying your story. "He's probably in that shack Marclan calls his guard house." he points off in a general direction and seems to be about to continue when he notices something over your shoulder. A sad look comes over his face and he says, "Or perhaps you won't have to go that far."
Looking in the direction he was gazing you see four burly, rough looking men throw another to the ground and stand over him threateningly. You can hear their raised voices but can't make out what they're saying from here.
Cyrus seems nonplussed by the man not buying his story, making a mental note that he needs to work on his bluffing skills. Not that he was exactly lying, per say, but...well, he'd heard it said that a half-truth was a whole lie, so maybe he was.
Regardless, Cyrus gives the man a quick 'thank you' before turning his attention to the men he'd been directed to. He begins moving toward them, but not in a way that would make him appear threatening; just close enough that he can make out what they're saying.
Droguk catches sight of the ruckus and immediately moves in that direction, passing the ranger and looking to find out what is going on. He walks right up next to the man that was thrown to the ground and stares expressionless at the four men. "What has this man done?" he simply asks.
Natasza signs Tough to stand back, but be ready to defend her is necessary. She then walks up to the troup around the man, and steps in front of the Scarred One.
"Hey there, longshanks. Whats the matter? The guy said something funny about yer mother not having enough milk to feed you when you were a boy?"
She keeps ready to dodge anything incoming.
The men turn towards you, surprise and confusion evident on their faces.
"Not that it's any business of yours stranger but he ain't paid his tax. Now move along `fore ya get some lumps of your own."
Natasza's comment draws a curious look. One of the men in the back "A few less teeth might straighten out that ones tongue."