"In think we'll have to unload the wagons," Laralai said in frustration. She glanced around, looking for any planking or wood in the area, including the wagon, that could be used to give the wheels more purchase.
While there weren't any big, well-cut planks lying around, there were plenty of branches you could use. Unfortunately, the cart simply wasn't designed to have anything else harnessed - the horses made it a bit full - but unloading it was a much simpler and more straightforward manner - and it looked measurably lighter once you'd managed to get everything off.
Laralai hunted down what wood she could, using them under the wheels to help give them grip. As an added bonus she grapped a long, sturdy branch and set it beneath the wagon - to use as a lever that would hopefully push the cart up and out. With another glance at the sky she started pushing again.
I usually wait until there's three posts to check the thread. XD When in doubt, ALWAYS post.
With a lot of grunting (and some bored looks from both Inga and Fastvi), the cart eventually started to squelch forward, aided by the beasts lashed to the front. Finally, the stuck wagon pulled forward enough to get it out of the muck and onto dry ground.
The old man looked at you gratefully with his one good eye. "Thank you for your aid. You are the sort of folk who make the Northlands proud. Have a pleasant journey, wherever you are going. Keep tight to your mind’s-worth, and may your fates soar through the ages." he said. "Worry not about these boxes - we'll have them loaded up again soon enough."
Hakon is in a surly mood by this point, though he does his best to hide it. Staring down at his muddied boots, red in the face and with precious time lost, he nods graciously and forces a smile.
"Our pleasure to help. Maybe avoid the muddier spots in the future, yes? Now. Let's be on our way."
Somewhat gruffly he swings up onto his horse, and taking Fastvi's reins in his off hand, he touches his heels to his steed's flanks and begins riding down the trail anew.
Giving the cart a slightly dirty look after the exertion it had required, Laralai nodded. "We do what all should do when someone needs help, and that is all. But thank you for the kind words." She re-mounted her horse again with a slight grown. "We might want to take it to a trot or canter," she mentioned to the others. "I do not want to get caught if poor weather comes, and we've taken more time than I'd like."
Fastvi grinned at Laralai's words, and needed no further encouragement to urge her steed into a quick trot.
"About time, too." Inga muttered as you all moved forward.
It is a warm spring day, and the meadow chosen is nestled in a narrow arm of the forest not far from the settled lands to the east. Insects buzz about, and the idyllic expanse of flowers is fragrant with fresh growth and new blossoms. The girls quickly dismount and spread across the meadow as you finally arrive. Inga is the most fastidious, carefully starting to pick flowers while avoiding anything that could get her clothes dirty. Fastvi is... less restrained, and looks like she'll need a talking-to if you don't want to deliver a muddy, scratched-up daughter to your jarl. Endlessly rambunctious, that one...
Diplomacy or Intimidate to keep her a bit more on-task.
Meanwhile, off to the side of the meadow, the grass rustled... and a friendly but mangy-looking dog hopped out, earning a squeal of delight from Runa as she dashed over to it and promptly picked it up. "Bogi!" she said, immediately naming it before turning back to you. "Can we keep him? Please?" she asked, eyes sparkling slightly as the dog started licking her face.
Knowledge (Nature) to learn a bit more about the creature and its status.
Hakon breathes a sigh of relief as they finally reach the field, and while staying mounted and keeping a weather-eye on the sky, he grins as the girls set about having fun. Too soon they'll be women with families of their own, responsibilities and sorrows, tragedies and all the rest that goes with being an adult in the north. Let them enjoy their hour of innocence in the sun.
Diplomacy:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
"Fastiv," he calls out. "Let's not emulate the pigs in their habits, shall we? While it's fine for our porcine friends to wallow and grunt in the dirt, a fine and upstanding - if spirited - young lady like yourself should strive to maintain a little decorum, no?"
Did that come out too harsh? Taking a deep breath, he digs for more patience. The combination of Fastvi's nature and that cart have made him a little more irascible than usual.
Fastvi looked back at Hakon. "Comparing me to pigs? Really?" she asked... though she did seem to be actively listening, and moderated her behavior a little bit to help ensure she wouldn't be getting too dirty by the time they were finished with gathering the flowers.
"Right." EIndrid shakes his head. "We can take the dog with us if you like, but it may belong to someone, or carry misfortune. When we return, you can ask your father's permission to keep it."
"Bogi'll be a good boy, I'm sure!" Runa said, petting the dog again as it nuzzled against her, clearly enjoying the attention. She looked up again a moment later, expression growing serious. "Then at least until my father makes a decision, will you promise to protect my friend Bogi as you would me?" she asked.
Fastvi was still working at picking flowers, but tended to get a bit distracted, and her basket was filling slower than the others. Inga, meanwhile, had dutifully filled her entire basked - and sidled over to Eindrid, linking an arm around his.
"Come, walk with me - it's too nice of a day to do nothing but stand around." she said, batting her eyes a bit.
Hakon frowns down at Runa as she makes her request, and shakes his head.
"A man's oath is not lightly given, little one. Your pet is wild, and may run at a moment's notice. Would you have me abandon you and your sisters so that I could chase it down its burrow, wherever that may be? I'm sorry." He smiles, but this is the north. Oaths can be matters of life and death.
Inga scowled, then stalked off to the side, clearly somewhat upset at having been ignored. Runa, too, looked a little less than totally pleased - or perhaps it was something else entirely, because her eyes went unfocused and the next words that game out of her mouth were powerful, bold, and completely unlike the voice of a little girl. "A storm is coming to sweep all away. Father will die from bloodied ice. The raven calls for us all." Then her demeanor shifted back to that of a little girl in a bright spring meadow as she skipped off after a butterfly, apparently oblivious to what she'd just said.
Hakon does a double take for the first time in his life, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword as combat instincts take over. Holding tight to the reins of his steed, he looks in astonishment as Runa runs away, and then shoots both of his companions a worried look.
"Tell me you both just heard that. Tell me I'm not going mad."
Shivers run down his back, and he realizes that all the hairs on the nape of his neck and his arms are prickling. "Damn. The jarl will die from bloodied ice? What is that supposed to mean?" Almost he calls after Runa, but then he checks himself. Whatever had come over her is clearly gone. Even he can tell as much.
Worried, he rises in his stirrups to survey the meadow.
"Well, it's not good," Eindred agrees. He's seen enough terror to be less shaken by something like this than Hakon, but he's also not sure if it's just the work of a sinister trickster elf or a little girl playing a prank. "Hope this doesn't mean there's witches about. Do... we want to head back early?"
Laralai glanced at the sky. "I don't think rushing back will go any good. If that was some kind of propecy, I assume it was in order. The storm will be the first part, but whether that is a literal storm or something more arcane...I cannot say." Thinking back on the warning of the weather they'd heard earlier, she added, "Still, leaving soon cannot do any harm, either."
"I was about done anywaaaaaaay..." Inga said, staggering forward and abruptly falling against Hakon.
Will DC 15 (Eindrid):1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10 Will DC 15 (Hakon):1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Will DC 15 (Laralai):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 Welp. That makes this easy, I guess.
Hakon was the next to collapse as something settled over him, followed by Laralai, who let out an enormous yawn. Fastvi fell out of her tree a moment later, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, and Runa started walking towards the edge of the woods, her eyes going vacant again. Hakon was the last to fall, unable to reach the girl before everything went dark.
When you wake up, your heads are splitting in pain that no amount of mead or ale could have produced, and blood trickles from ears, noses, and even eyes. Your mouths are like dry roadbeds paved with molded sail cloth. The sun is slanting down in a mid-afternoon glare — you have been unconscious for several hours. Bees buzz among the flowers in the meadow. Of the girls — and your horses for that matter — there is no sign. The only other living creature you see is the mangy stray dog claimed by Little Runa. It licks at your faces as if happy for you to wake up.
Hakon curls his hands into a fist, digging his fingers into the grass and dirt, and then groans and rolls over onto his back. He presses his other hand against his brow, and then tries to sit up before falling back with a hiss. The pain in his head is ungodly.
After a moment, he blinks his eyes and stares up at the sky, takes a deep breath, and then holds it as he turns onto his side and pushes himself up into a seated position.
"Inga?" His voice is little more than a croak. He puts his hand to his nose, and then looks at the blood that dapples his fingertips. With greater urgency, "Fastvi?"
They're gone. A cold knife of fear cuts into his core, and he growls and forces himself up to his feet, the world swaying, but his pain be damned. "Runa!" This last is a yell.
Cursing, moving drunkenly, he moves to where his horse is grazing and then grits his teeth as he hauls himself up into the saddle. He rises as high as he can in the stirrups, searching the forest and meadow for any sign of the girls.
Perception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Cupping his hands around his mouth again, he bellows, "INGA!"
"The Witch." Laralai growled the words. "That must have been a spell of sleep. It must have been the Witch." Her long hair flowed around her briefly - against the wind. Her fists clenched. To fail so dismally...my mother will never meet my gaze again...
"Calm yourself," Bertok's voice whispered, "Think. You have a mind, so use it. What did they take?"
"They took the girls and the horses. All the horses." Laralai muttered as she started to move. Six horses...that will leave a trail. Three of them weighed down with unconscious girls, strange handlers? That will not make it simple either. She began looking around for there tracks.
Eindrid just sort of shakes his head and tries to get his bearings, checking if his head is still bleeding, if he's been hit anywhere, and whether the party is still in the same meadow.
You're definitely in the same meadow, that's for sure. While there's no response from the girls, a look around does reveal several depressions in the grass where their bodies had fallen, now empty. There's no sign of blood or violence by them - there are, however, a number of tracks heading off into the woods. These tracks are of two large barefoot men, one smaller barefoot humanoid — likely a woman — and smaller shoeprints like those of a little girl. These prints lead off to the northwest, deeper into the forest and toward the Moors beyond.
There are also footprints of horses scattered around, but they don't seem to have gone with whoever else was here. It's quite possible the horses are still somewhere close, and with a bit of luck (and some help (i.e. Handle Animal) from your canine companion, if you can communicate your desires? Either that or simply looking around on your own), you might be able to retrieve them.
Off to the side of the field, you also find the remains of a large stone slab the size of a shield. It has cracked in several places, and the writing on it is faded and almost entirely illegible, as if recently scoured away.
Setting Note:
Horses are a major measure of value in the Northlands. Steeds are not especially easy to replace, and failing to bring them back to the Jarl would result in significant loss for your reputations, probably enough to see you cast out of his house and forever branded incompetents. There's a practical reason to search them out, too - if you plan to pursue the kidnappers, horses would allow you to move significantly faster.
At this point, you must decide what you're going to do. It is possible to head back for help, but doing so would take an hour just to get back to the town, and another two or so to gather a force and ride back. It would also be an admission of failure on your part, and a sign that the Jarl was wrong to have entrusted you with the safety of his daughters.
The lack of violence suggests that the girls are still alive, and moreover, it's likely they're no more than a few hours ahead of you. Should you decide to pursue, you can make a Knowledge (Geography) or (Local) check for more information.
Hakon looks worriedly at Laralai as he hurries over to the Runa's canine companion.
"What Witch? What are you talking about? Do you know of some wyrd woman who lives hereabouts?"
Crouching before the dog, he holds out his hand for it to sniff, and then smiles at it, speaking in a low, easy tone, doing the best to mask his tension. "Good boy, brave warrior. Can you find our horses? Here, look - sniff over here." So saying, he draws forth a slice of dried goat's meat and lures the dog over to his horse's tracks, and then makes a motion for the dog to following the tracks as best he can.
Handle Animal:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8Maybe a bonus for the bribe?
Even as he makes a fool of himself gesturing at the dog, he casts a weather eye at the sky, then in the direction the footsteps led, and tries to surmise what might lie ahead - and where they might have taken the girls.
"Sibbe the Unkempt is known to walk these places," Laralai supplied. "Hallbjorn warned me earlier that she may have fallen in league with Styr the Ugly. This smells like the kind of mischief a thief and a witch might do, working together."
Laralai began to look around for any signs of the horses.
"These tracks will not be hard to follow," Eindrid observes. "We should do what we can to find the horses—if they're on foot, we'll only need the last hour or two of daylight to run the kidnappers down."
And he glowers at the dog, trying to get its attention where Hakon could not. Handle Animal:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
The dog happily ate the meat - and did absolutely nothing useful, though it did wag its tail happily and lick Hakon's hand a few times, clearly happy to have gotten the treat (and not likely to forget it anytime soon).
On further examination, the tracks lead directly through the narrow band of woods and into a section of the Moors that skirts the Trollfist Hills. The kidnappers are unlikely to head north toward the civilized lands under Jarl Olaf’s sway with his kidnapped daughters in tow, so that leaves only the Moors or possibly the Barrow Lands. Most importantly, in the Barrow Lands beyond the Moors about 20 miles away is a legendary hill known as the Tor. The seiðkona called Sibbe the Unkempt, a wretched old crone known for her witchcraft and delving into the ancient magic of the Andøvan, is known to live in the vicinity of the Tor. Skirting the Trollfist Hills would provide a route for someone mounted to ride to the Tor.
Speaking of being mounted, half an hour of work from Laralai did manage to gather the horses together, at least, so there was that.
In case it wasn't clear from the text, there are three routes to reach the Tor from where you are.
The fastest route is over the Moors and through the Barrow Lands. The longest - but possibly safest - route is around the Trollfist Hills. A middle route balancing speed and danger would be following the paths through the forest, skirting both the Barrow Lands and the Hills.
If you'd like more information to help you make a decision, you can make Knowledge checks on the following subjects (one roll per subject). -The Tor (Local or History) -The Barrow Lands (Local or Geography) -The Trollfist Hills (Local or Geography) -The Forest (Local or Nature) -Andøvan Magic (Arcana) -Sibbe the Unkempt (Local)
10: The tors scattered throughout the Northlands are large hills or outcroppings of stone used long ago as ancient Andøvan fortifications or ritual sites. The Tor near Silvermeade Hall bears upon its summit a stone circle jutting up like broken teeth above the surrounding plain.
12: Legend says the stones of the Tor were used in powerful ritual magic performed by the Andøvan at the four corners of the year.
18: Andøvan stone circles are known to often contain spells written on stone tablets.
The Barrow Lands:
10: The burial mounds of the ancient Andøvan dot much of the central portions of the Hord Peninsula where the tableland is drier than the surrounding moors.
12: It is said that the Barrow Lands are haunted by the ghosts of the ancient warriors laid to rest here.
15: Tales of those who have journeyed into the Barrow Lands usually mention that the living never come back, remaining among the dead for all eternity.
The Trollfist Hills:
10: These hills are rugged, barren, and have long been the haunts of trolls, outlaws, and giants. A path leads through them that loops to the south toward the Barrow Lands near the Tor.
15: Though the hills have recently been cleaned out of outlaws, trolls, and other threats, there is always the possibility that new dangers might have moved in to the old vacated lairs and caves.
The Forest:
10: These woods are fairly open and are composed of old growth forest that has only been logged around the edges. The trails through the forest are tricky and twisting, but are known to lead to the southwest around the Barrow Lands.
17: Though far removed from it now, the forest here is a distant extension of the Forest of Woe at the south end of the Hord Peninsula. Though not nearly as primordial and untamed as that legendary woodland, the forests around Silvermeade are said to be the home to several bands of wild fey, though none that are known to be overtly malicious.
Andøvan Magic:
12: The Andøvan possessed powerful magic, but unlike the kind known in the Northlands today. Instead, it used complex rituals, celestial alignments, and words of power magic to create truly momentous effects.
15: The four corners of the year, often used in Andøvan rituals, referred to the solstices and equinoxes. The Cusp of Freyja (spring equinox) is tomorrow.
Sibbe the Unkempt:
12: Sibbe the Unkempt is a seiðkona, a witch-woman, and has long been a feature in stories and tales of the area, often acting strangely, coming and going as she pleases, and is used as a local “bogeyman” to frighten children. She would have to be more than 80 years old for all the tales attributed to her.
17: Rumors more than once have placed Sibbe upon the Tor performing some unnamable ritual or other. It would appear that she has had an interest in the magic of the site for decades.
"The question becomes," Laralai mused outloud, "Is do we take the path through the Barrowlands and hope we can ride or fight past any danger, or do we pass through the woods and skirt the Barrows and the Trollfist Hills?" Laralai didn't even consider bothering with the safest route. It wasn't worth mentioning.
Hakon rubs at his chin. "We've a good notion that if it is Sibbe, then she'll be heading toward the Tor. The quickest route there is straight through the Barrowlands. The most dangerous as well." He scratches the back of his head, fully aware that he's thinking aloud and in a redundant manner.
"Curse it. We've found our horses. I say we ride through the Barrowlands. It's perilous, but we can't risk the girls staying any longer in Sibbe's hands. That's my vote."
"I am not sure...we cannot help them if we fail that path..." Laralai considered. Dying would not save the girls, and it would not be an honourable death if that was true. But failing to reach them in time would be worse...
Whoops... I missed that we got the horses back. >_<;;
"Alright. You two ride faster than I can, but as long as they're on foot, we should be faster. Cut them off before they reach shelter, and we can fight the witch out in the open."
Taking your steeds and following the tracks you found - Runa's new dog Bogi hopped up on Hakon's saddle to ride the whole way - led to a clearing about a quarter of a mile away, where there were signs that three more horses had been tied up at some point. Following the trail takes you northwest out of the woods and skirts just north of the Trollfist Hills before plunging south rapidly for a fast run to the Tor. It's already starting to get dark out, though the moon is going to be a bright one tonight.
Dim lighting all around unless noted otherwise.
It isn't long before the tracks you're following lead you to the Moors. Muddy, heath-covered, and dotted with small bogs, the Moors run from the coast to the Forest of Woe far to the south, interrupted only by the Stonefist Hills, forested areas, and occasional barrow fields of the ancient Andøvan peoples. Only the barest hints of green have begun to spring up among the broken rocks and muddy hollows. The winds of a recent winter still blow across this flatland and chill through all but the heaviest cloaks, and the occasional bog pool still has a rime of fragile ice around its edges. There is no cover on the moors, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable to any watching eyes.
The horizon is a fair distance away, and the skies are mostly clear - all except for the storm clouds starting to roil the air far ahead of you. It's quite some ways away, and you'll have to decide how hard you want to push your steeds...
At a normal rate, it will take about seven and a half hours to reach the Tor. It's possible to hustle and cut this time in half, though you will take nonlethal damage and become fatigued. We'll decide this by simple majority vote, so tell me how fast you want to travel in your next posts. Laralai, you can cure the fatigue if the group votes to hustle by using the Life Sphere's 'Restore', but remember that curing everyone would take three of your spell points and leave you with much less to confront other challenges with. Also, your 'Magic' section says you have 6, but I think you only have 5 right now... might wanna fix that. ^^
As you keep moving, you eventually come to a place where the earth is a bit drier, the ground higher than that of the surrounding bog lands. Occasional mounds of earth, elongated and low, dot the terrain. You suspect this the edge of the Barrow Lands and dread what foul specters must lurk beneath the thin veneer of earth that covers them. You only hope that your passing has not disturbed any of them. Your hope is short-lived, however, as in the dim moonlight ahead, directly upon the path you follow, stand the remains of what must have once been one of the mounds. Someone has recently dug down into the very center of it, leaving a large crater surrounded by piles of freshly turned earth. More than one glint of bone can be seen in this churned furrow, and as you approach, six skeletons garbed in ancient Andøvan relics claw their way out of the dirt. Note that you all start on horseback.
Maybe it was the rearing of your steeds that distracted you - but the skeletons moved forward faster than any of you could react, splitting into groups to try and bring you down and attacking as soon as they could. In effect, there are skeletons diagonally in front of each of you, to the left and to the right.
As the group gains the Barrowlands, Hakon loosens his handax in its sheath, and rides with one hand constantly ghosting down to its hilt, eyes wary as he scans the passing barrows. The cold and speed are exhilarating, and he takes point, urging his horse ever on, eyes slitted against the wind.
When he espies the barrow he lets out a call, but it's far too late; he draws his handax and spurs his horse forward, seeking to crash into the first skeleton and drive its bones back into the ground from whence they should have never emerged.
...None of you actually read my post, huh? Eindrid, dismounting does not provoke. Hakon, how far forward are you actually going? If you move, that probably WOULD provoke. XD
With a sturdy crack upside the head, Hakon smashed his first foe - although the handaxe's sharp blade was blunted somewhat by the creatures' bones. Laralai's hit, though weaker, wasn't subject to the same problem, and it did full damage as the creatures continued to maneuver around.
This time, at least, their broken weapons weren't looking to be much of a threat - though there was no telling how long that would continue to be the case.
I assume it was the lack of voting for whether we hustle or not? Or because we didn't dismount? I didn't intend to dismount, but it's been forever since I did a fight on a mount - did I miss a rule? Oop, need to make a ride check...
Anyway, I vote to hussle. I won't be able to cure much, after, but we can patch up with Invigorate. It should get us home.
Laralai continued kicking from the saddle, aiming at the creature that was already cracked from her first attack.
