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"Now THAT is what i call a great fight!" says Haakon as he puts away his shield and helps Bolger to his feet.
"Wait... did he say Irrisen..." Haakon spits on the ground like the word left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Ulfric, I smell the influence of those damned Witches!" he spits again at the mention of the terrible rulers of Irrisen.
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It has been a long and arduous journey to Irrisen, land of the witches and the bitter cold.
Your boat comes slowly within view of the land and the bitter chill comes off your ears. As you move on you recall the warning of Runa before you left, that thanks to the actions of the Shadow Lodge, your station as pathfinders will be a liability for this mission. Also at issue is your large, unwieldy chest which in this area you will not want to let out of your sight. As the boat pulls in you are left wondering how to handle the chest and where to go from here....
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A pretty young Taldan man with dark brown hair is waiting outside the inn that the team has been using as a base of operations. He's leaning against a wall, over-dressed in what appears to be heavy winter gear. A side-drum rests on his right hip, a dueling blade of the Aldori style on his left.
"Someone with a lingering cold sent me up to give you folks a hand. He's normally the sort to wake you in the middle of the night for something important, but he really wasn't talking much when I saw him last. I hope they get him some help for that."
"I've gotten us a room to chat in, I've done business here before, and we'll talk more inside, if that's acceptable, given recent events?"
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"This news can wait until we've had a few rounds i think. If you have a room then we can certainly join you. We have a victory to celebrate, and over an enemy of the Pathfinders no less. What's your name newcomer? Drinks are on me!" he yells as he gets caught up in the celebrations.
Haakon will take the time to tell Rae how great he was during the last fight while downplaying everyone else a little. He's really bad at exaggerating his own heroics, but that never stops him trying. If he wasn't so obviously bad at it people would likely get offended.
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"Rae Alain Paight, Hero of Magnimar, Icebreaker of the Jadwiga. And celebrating victory is all fine and good, but..."
The Taldan squints for a moment, listening to the tale critically with the ear of a performer. Proud Ulfen. Looks like we have a couple of them. This could be an issue, it might be better to get them at ease with a drink or two...
"I... see. So, how many people jumped out the window on the second floor? I'll buy another drink for those who did that, because, man, that's just insane. I wouldn't do it, that's for sure."
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Ulfric winds down from the fight and its aftermath before joining his future Jarl and new allies for a drink. Eyeing the newcomer suspiciously the Skald shrugs as Haakon offers to buy another round.
"Ha, you do business here, My Jarl and I were raised her pretty boy. I am Marquis Ulfric Lupercal, known as Whitemane. Noble lord of Taldor, Aspis-Bane and official Skald for future Jarl Haakon Jarnison, master of the Jungle and fortress fallen, and friend of the Sewer dragons."
Standing upon the table and raising his glass high and draining half of it, Ulfric bellows to those frequenting the bar.
"For Trollheim and all our Brothers and Sisters! May your axes ever be sharp and your Ale never be watered down!"
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"Haakon, Ulfric, you'll not be cutting me out of the buying of rounds. That's against Ulfen tradition, and you KNOW it. Trust a bard t' know the right of things on this one."
Rae will insist on covering at least one round, and then when Ulfric moves to the declarations phase the young man slides his side-drum to his lap and starts thumping it, slowly building a tempo and kicking to a much more lively beat....
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Teric rolls his eyes at the Ulfens. "Good to have you with us, Rae. Quite a title you have for yourself. How did you earn that title of 'Icebreaker'? Perhaps you can tell us a pretty story." He smiles at the man, seemingly eager to hear Rae's story of heroics. The Varsian taps his fingers together, ready to see if Rae can spin a tale as fanciful as he would.
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"...so there I was on behalf of the Society, investigating an ancient ruin in Irrisen when we get jumped by this huge ol' winter wolf. Now, you can tell just by looking at me that I'm not really the kind for face-to-face fighting if it can be helped, right?
So our guide grabs me, without explanation, and whips me through the wall of ice that she was helping melt for the party. Left me bruised and beat up like no one's business, but the wall collapsed after being abused like that.
While I was a bit sore then, looking back I'm definitely not now -- that guide saved my life doing that, because the wolf let this huge ol' cloud of frost out... that'd've put paid to my adventuring for sure.
I tried t' defer it, y'know, it being kind of embarrassing and all, but our guide would have none of it. She said that being willing to trust her with my life and my health without warning like that broke the ice she had in her own heart about outsiders."
Rae takes a long slow sip of his drink as he stares off in a brief fond reminiscent fashion.
"Who knows, maybe we'll run into her, heard we're headin' that way, right?"
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You get off the ferry and have to make the rest of the trip to Whitethorne on foot.
A biting wind blows from the north and snow blows in blinding drifts amid numbing fog. The bone-white walls of Whitethrone, capital of Irrisen and home of Baba Yaga’s white witch daughters, rises into the frigid northern night. Somewhere within is the Shadow Lodge headquarters hinted at in Trollheim where the poor historian Rognvald Skagni is being held. Reaching this point was a difficult challenge, but gaining entry into the city itself presents the greatest obstacle yet.
How to do this without getting your giant chest of papers looked at?
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Ulfric stands looking at the white city of their most hated foe, fighting the urge to spit and the bile rising in his throat. He turns to the others and speaks through gritted teeth. His hands unconsciously clench until his knuckles turn white and he shakes his head in disgust.
"I ain't gonna like this, but whatever we do about the chest, the best way for My Jarl and I to get into this place is to act like your bodyguards, my kind aren't well liked in these parts, though all of us here are second class citizens at best. Smugglers are a good idea, anyone good at code?"
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You have heard that the main way to smuggle goods into the city is via going through the Howlings district where the smugglers have a special relationship with the White Wolves who live there. However, without a specific connection with a specific merchant who operates in that way you won't be able to avail yourselves of that path without risking becoming Wolf Food.
You're going to have to get past in a different way - perhaps sneaking past guards, perhaps a bribe or ruse of some kind?
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Teric is somewhat familiar with the trade in this area and knows a few people who would be in the business of smuggling goods into the area.
He comes across one such merchant and then merchant taps his thick round belly and thinks. I would be willing to do such a thing, but those goods do come at a price, just why should I given it to you? what's in it for me?
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The Varisian whispers a charm and then smiles at the fat man. "Malek, I would be indebted to you if you handle this favor for me. Take my crew and me on for just a couple of days, until we get into the city. See those two Ulfen? They'll help you load and unload your goods wherever in the city you need them delivered. And the pretty one there will sing you a tune to keep all your guards entertained for the night. I'll keep the little one and her pet out of trouble. And everything is no cost to you. Just hire us on and keep our trunk with your things. No questions."
Teric pauses and then shrugs. "In fact, because I like you, I'll even make you a deal. You have my crew's help for no charge and once we get into the city, I'll pay you for your trouble. Say 4 gold a head, plus another 2 for the chest. 22 gold, plus you get our services for the two days."
"What'dya say? World class deal, Malek."
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The fatman eyes up the two Ulfen and notices the rippling muscles on Haakon. Yes, yes I think that's quite agreeable..especially for a fellow member of the family. he pockets the bribe and walks you through the Howlings district and it is as terrifying as advertised with the White Wolves milling about everywhere it takes a lot of discipline to make it through without blowing the deal but the White Wolves are able to take your goods and spirit them inside the city.
Your guide is used to dealing with the very strict laws in this town and takes you to get registered with the city's Iron Guard before taking you to the markets to work for him. His vouching for you makes this process painless and efficient.
After about 6 hours of hard labor unloading the goods from the Caravan into their shop here in town your group makes it into the city relatively unmolested.
After this time, though tired, it is dusk and you still have a job to do. You are able to follow the map from Runa to the brewery that supposedly holds the secret Shadow Lodge in Irrisen.
A large, dilapidated building sits crammed between equally dilapidated warehouses and flophouses. Its doors are chained shut, its windows are filled with broken glass and boarded from the inside, and its facade is faded, crumbling, and encrusted with icicles. Faded, hard-to-read letters are painted 10 feet tall across the top of the ruined structure—they read: Auntie Marny’s Bitter Brew.
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"You can never be too careful here in the land of witches. We should be cautious and watch out for trouble." Haakon has been resisting the urge to spit while in Irrisen, but while no-one else is around he makes a point this time of spitting like a bad taste has been building up in his mouth.
Haakon is very wary in Irrisen and looks out for trouble while looking for other ways to enter the building.
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After several hours of back-breaking labour unloading crates and boxes for the Varisian smuggler, Ulfric longs for a drink. Deciding to leave this part out of his Jarl's tale the White Haored Ulfen ensures his White Wolf cloak is not on showninsode the city and looks at the brewery. Looking through his pack he notes no oil to be used as lubricant for the tusting mechanisms and turns to his friends.
"So, anyone have oil? Or shall we force it my Jarl?"
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Rae blinks for a second and gulps, looking off towards a larger structure towards the center of town.
"I need to go handle something important with one of the local families. I'll try to be a bit of a distraction and keep them tied up but I have to go do this.
Please accept my apologies."
The bard will zip off at an exceptional rate of speed, looking for all the world as if Baba herself was after him.
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"Oh, ok. Take care!" Bolger answers to Rae. "It was a pleasure to work with you."
Bolger rummages through the things in his backpack and after a few seconds he holds a piece of chalk in his hands. "I completely forgot I kept this. Well, not the right thing for now." he says and continues to look for something in the bag. Finally he picks out two vials. "Two bottles of oil I have, is this enough?" he says and starts to pour the content of one of them over the rusted mechnisms.
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Bolger is able to oil the wheels of this door mechanism and gets it to ride up relatively quietly.
The group is led into the back room of a brewery where a half dozen abandoned brewing tanks and a rafter system for pouring things into them lays undisturbed. To the north there is a wide door leading into what appears to be the front of the building and to the west a door lays slightly ajar, leading into what appears to be a storage room of some sort from your current vantage point
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As Bolger disables the trap successfully and begins to head downstairs, they get the feel that their intel was correct and that the secret lodge is there.
This brick-walled room is fifty feet long and twenty-five feet wide and the ceiling stands twenty feet tall. Abandoned metal braces, likely once used to hold up shelves of items, are studded along the north and south brick walls. A fresh, newlooking wooden door is closed on the south wall. The entire room smells of unwashed flesh and possesses a faint, sicklysweet odor. The room is unbelievably hot, a sharp contrast to the cold brewery above. Makeshift shelves stand on east and west ends of the room, some of them sparsely filled with books. A large, round wooden table sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs. Along the entire length of the north wall are stacked cages, jars, buckets, bottles and various bits of masonry, all teaming with a wide variety of insects.
In the middle of this room you see a trio of people, two normal looking men in black leathers, and a twisted scarred looking man covered in insects. They seem startled to see all of you and draw weapons.
Lucrezia
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Green
Red
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Bolger
Haakon
Teric
Ulfric
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Blue
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Seeing the raptor rush headlong into battle, Ulfric hustles through the room towards the presumed shadow lodge agents and enemies of his homeland. With a curse and a spit Ulfric draws his battle axe and begins a new tale of Ulfen bravery, as usual from memory.
This tale offers a new twist, allies who are small in stature and another, a wandered aid the Ulfen Jarl in defeating a sinister plot on their homeland.
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Ceasing the magic of his tale and subduing his rage, Ulfric pats Haakon on the shoulder heartily as he looks at the surrendering agents. A mad twinkle on his eye as he looks at those partly responsible for the attack on his home.
"Well done My Jarl! One blow is all it takes for cowards!" he places his bare axe blade on the unconscious man's neck and looks at the men, his eyes smouldering and a warning growl creeping into hos voice.
"Now lads, what do you know? What is going on here? Are ye Shadow Lodge?"