After many moments, Kalt lowers his hood, causing the wolf's ears to perk up. Kalt can see from the gray around the muzzle, this is a aged wolf, well past his hunting prime. Its coat is patchworked with scars, clearly the loser of a fight for dominance of the pack. The wolf looks at the rangers face, sensing his desires, and moves over to a tree, marking it as his. then, it slowly pads on. The rest of the night passes uneventfully, with the wind slowly picking up, heralding the coming storm.
Kalt gives the grizzled, old wolf a respectful nod, relieved that it is satisfied with a brief display of territoriality. Deciding to get some rest while he can, he covers himself with his cloak, heaping snow on top to serve as insulation and camouflage. He sleeps lightly, as he does in the wild, waking from time to time to gauge the progress of the storm’s arrival.
Come morning, Kalt forages for food for a time, while moving slowly northeast. His hunger sated, he turns his attention to moving quietly through the landscape, the ground behind him not showing a single trace of his passage. He keeps his eyes and ears alert, particularly as he approaches the area where he expects to find the caravan. I’ll see if I can get close enough to take a look at things, then decide if it’s best to approach during the snowfall today or under cover of darkness tonight. I’m no sneak-thief, but it’d be fine to get this mission done without too much blood on the snow, mine or theirs.
Kalt easily finds the trail left by the three dogsleds as they raced across the frozen land. Based on the lay out of the paw prints, it's clear they are pushing the dogs in an attempt to outrun the coming storm, or at least find a good shelter to protect from the weather. Picking up the pace, the ranger begins to gain on his quarry as the snow begins to pick up. Though visibility soon turns poor, Kalt makes out a darkened patch nestled against a distant hill, that in his mind, would make an ideal windbreak from the storm.
Kalt feels the weather coming on, and curses himself for not planning on the caravan having dogs. Never guessed it'd be dog sleds, but I should have at least planned on there being dogs travelling with them. Wonder if I could have made friends with that old wolf I met? I'd hate to do so and then use him to lure the dogs away, they'd kill him for sure. I guess it's on me to sort this out. Hmm, I think I've an idea...
In spite of the limited visibility, Kalt sets out to search for blackfoil, a leaf that'll make a man or beast powerfully sick for a day or so if they eat it by accident. He's seen it in similar terrain at home and in Irrisen..Maybe it grows near here too. If I can get the dogs to eat some, they'll be whining and heaving their guts out. Even their packmates will likely be focused on the sick dogs - and hopefully the caravan folk will too.
He also keeps alert for rabbits, ermine, anything furry and meaty that he might stuff with blackfoil, to get it into the dogs. If I can catch a brace of coneys, I'll be in fine shape.
Once he’s worked at these two tasks for a while, he stuffs the fresh kills with the blackfoil leaf. He then moves off towards the caravan’s suspected campsite, approaching from upwind, aiming to take a look at the situation before he lays out the rest of his improvised plan.
Kalt easily finds the herbs he is looking for, however, small game proves far more difficult, and after a few hours he has found a single rabbit. Taking far more time than he'd like, Kalt continues his search and does eventually find enough small animals to potentially persuade the dogs not to eat him.
Sneaking up to the campsite at dusk, he sees 3 men sitting around a campfire with the usual protections from the wintery weather set up. Around them, about a dozen dogs are either playing, resting, or just digging through the snow as dogs are wont to do. They do not appear to have noticed the stealthy ranger.
Kalt studies the men a moment, surveying the scene and deciding on a course of action. As the men sit by the fire, their eyes focused on its light, Kalt continues his quiet approach. He waits for a moment when the wind from the storm has picked up, then uses the noise to cover what he does next. He carefully lobs the blackfoil-stuffed rabbit into the soft snow near a couple of the digging dogs. If this isn't noticed by the men, he tosses a stuffed squirrel at the next closest group of dogs, then steps quietly away. If the men didn't hear that, the dogs aren't likely to wonder where the food came from, they'll just eat it. Then we'll see how the men react. If nothing else, I can take some of the dogs out of the picture and put a few arrows into the men. If I'm lucky, they'll take sick quick and I can do this tonight. If not, I may have to wait until morning.
When Kalt stands to lob the meals over towards the dogs, the dogs ears perk up and they begin to sniff the air. When the tasty morsels land in front of them, they continue sniffing the air, and then meat before beginning to chow down after a few tense moments. Once a few of the dogs begin to eat, the remaining ones that were not asleep dive in and a few fights break out as they bicker over how much the other has eaten.
About a half an hour later, nearly all the dogs are curled up mewling in agony as their stomachs revolt against them. The caravaners begin to grow concerned, boiling snow and offering the dogs a bit of fresh water to drink.
Kalt waits patiently, unmoving in the snow, as the blackfoil takes effect and the dogs get sicker and sicker. Hate to do that to the poor beasts, but it's better than killing them. Speaking of which...
Wishing there were another way, Kalt raises his massive bow and nocks an arrow. He stands very still, waiting for the right moment. In a brief lull in the storm, with the wind almost still for a moment and just a faint screen of snowflakes between him and the target, Kalt draws back the arrow, exhales, and releases. He watches the flight briefly, to know whether he has struck true, then vanishes into the storm, circling around the campsite to try another shot from a new direction.
The man yelps in pain as the arrow glances off his leg, leaving a line of blood. The others look at him, confusion on their faces. Words are exchanged and one of them moves to the dogs.
Kalt succeeds in circling around the camp, and attempts another shot at the wounded man. He stands, takes aim, and lets fly. He feels in the arrow’s release that his aim is true, but a sudden gust sends the arrow far off target, the sound of rushing wind hiding its flight from the men.
He then slips back into the whirling snow, wondering how long he can keep this up if the dogs come for him.
The men try and rile the dogs, both the sick and the sleeping. The sick dogs whimper as the men try and force them into action. They do not seem to have noticed the second shot and continue to shout in Hallit.
Kalt moves further around the circle, then creeps slightly closer this time, in hopes of overcoming the wind and hitting his target. He lets fly an arrow at the wounded man, then vanishes back into the storm.
The man spins as the arrow again catches him, this time in the back of the shoulder. Twisting to look allow the arrows flight, he sees nothing, and kicks one of the dogs in both frustration and in an attempt to rouse the beast. One of the other men sends a dog off toward the area they think Kalt to be located in, but the dog resists the command, not fancying slogging through a blizzard with no promise of reward.
Having found a distance that seems workable, Kalt continues to target the wounded man from the same range. His shot once again hits home, and deeply this time, but he stumbles somewhat in moving back into hiding, cursing under his breath and hoping the same icy weather that gave him birth will cover his movements.
The first man falls as the arrow catches him squarely in the chest. Perhaps the snow paused for a moment, or aligned just right, but the lead dog’s head immediately points to Kalt, and with a howl, begins to bound towards him. The two men watch the dog take off and start off after the ranger as well, hot on the heels of their canine companion. The other dogs who are not sickened bolt upright, and look to pick up the chase.
Cursing his luck, Kalt hustles away from the approaching dog, dropping his bow and drawing his blade as he moves. When the dog reaches him, he takes a brutal swing at it with the ice-etched greatsword.
The dog quickly outpaces the men, who are having a dificult time traversing the snow without snowshoes. As the dog closes, he recognizes the blade in the rangers hand and tries to hamstring this strange human. The blade comes down and slices cleanly through the spine and vital organs, the dog barely getting out a yelp of pain before quieting in death.
Kalt keeps ahead of the dogs for a few moments, allowing a gap to open between the men and their beasts. When he feels there's enough distance to take on the dogs, he slows and waits for them to come at him, blade at the ready.
Kalt leads the dogs on a merry chase before turning on the beasts. As before, the masterworked blade cleanly severs flesh and bone, slaying the lead dog before it can do more than slobber on the ranger. However, he is unused to the added weight of the new blade, and fails to get it back around in time to defend against the second dog, who grabs onto his leg and yanks. Teeth tear apart the muscle of his calf and sends him sprawling to the ground.
In the distance, the men seem to have stopped chasing near where Kalt had loosed his killing shot, and are yelling into the howling wind.
Kalt curses the dog as it tears into his leg, knowing that if he's injured badly in this fight, he'll be much less able to take on the dog's masters when the time comes. He then swings his great blade at the last of the dogs, but his wound makes his strike awkward and he fails to connect.
The dog fails to hear his masters call and continues to try and revenge his fallen packmates. Circling around, wary of the gleaming death stick, it bounds in, but quickly hops back before darting around the side, going for Kalt's wounded leg.
The beasty again gets his teeth into Kalt, continuing to ravage the ranger's wounded leg. Kalt uses some of the momentum and stays upright, despite the shaking and twisting of his canine adversary.
Kalt swings at the beast again, and again his wounded leg affects his aim.
The nimble dog again delays the inevitable as he darts away from Kalt's mighty blow. The pup tries the same tactic that has worked so well for him, but the sly ranger is ready, and slides his wounded leg away at the last minute, leaving the beast chopping nothing but air.
In the distance, the two men have found the first slain dog, and are discussing in Hallit what that could mean for them.
Kalt steadies himself on his wounded leg, the dog pausing at the same time to study his foe a moment. Then, in a lightning-fast swing, Kalt cuts the dog deeply before it can react.
The dog whimpers as it wavers on the edge on consciousness before collapsing in an ever growing pool of its own blood.
Kalt lets out a breath and looks quickly around, glad that the men are not still pursuing him. Would have preferred not to kill their dogs, but maybe the sick ones can be saved, even give me a ride home. Can't have the men telling tales, though, if Katz wants who did this to be a secret. As he thinks a moment on his next steps, he sheathes his sword and pulls a potion from his belt pouch. He drinks it down, savoring its healing energies even as he grits his teeth when his leg stings fiercely and knits back together.
Kalt tucks the empty bottle into his pack, and pulls out a back-up weapon, glad he's got the small sling and pouch of bullets. He ties the pouch to his belt, loads a bullet into the sling, and sets off to finish what he's started. He moves back toward the campsite, moving as slowly and quietly as a falling snowflake. When the men come into view, he slows even further, gives his sling a quick spin, and fires a bullet at one of them. He then retreats back into the blowing snow, disappearing from view.
Kalt lets fly with his stone, only to hear the thump of something hitting wood. As he peers closer, he notices that while he mended his wounds and planned his strike with his sling, the men had flipped the sleds onto their side and are crouched behind them, barely visible. At the noise of the stone striking the underside of a sled, an arrow is lobbed off, aimed some 20 feet to Kalts left.
Kalt stays where he is, hidden by the swirling snow, and studies the improvised protective structure the men have set up. Once he's gotten a look at it, he quietly pushes a pile of snow in front of himself, ducking down behind it so that only his eyes peer above it, considering his options. I'd like to let these two live, but I've got to make them believe they'll die if they don't give me what I want.
Kalt drops his head down behind the pile of snow, so the men will have only his voice on the wind to try to find him. He then calls out, "You don't have to die today! I just want anything of value you carry, and a sled and dog team to travel with! Your dogs are sick or dead, and your companion will not be travelling further. Toss your weapons where I can see them and move out from behind your sleds, and we'll all be better off for it. Or I can hunt you down in this storm, and you can die without ever seeing me coming."
Once he's spoken, Kalt stays very low to the ground and crawls through the snow to a different location to await the answer, keeping his distance from the men.
There is a discussion amongst the men for a few minutes before one shouts out in broken Skald as weapons are dropped, "We Leave... You take... We return?"
Kalt slips off his backpack and removes a couple of bricks of blackfire clay. He throws them high in the air, to land near the sleds where the two men are hiding. "Take off your clothes, everything," he shouts in return. "The clay will keep you warm while I collect what I need. Leave everything, take the clay, and walk twenty steps away. I'll come take, then you can return. Understand?"
The men grumble and gesticulate at each other before beginning to peel off their many layers of clothing. They then head away, shivering and beginning to pale. They work the clay and cling to each other and the clay.
Kalt draws his sword and holds it before him, approaching the piles of clothing and other belongings. He methodically rifles through the belongings of the men, the living and the dead, looking for the diamond dust and anything else of particular value. He keeps his blade at hand, and watches the men carefully to be sure they're standing where they're supposed to be.
Once he has found what he's after, and has tucked things away in pouch and pack, he turns to the men. "Your dogs should recover some time tomorrow, and you can go on your way. Do not try to follow me."
He then leaves the camp, heading north until he's well out of sight, then circling back around to begin the trek southwest back to Katz's hold. He's careful to leave no trace of his passage.
Kalt begins examining the camp and finds much of the cargo to be basic food stuffs and common supplies for a village. The mens cloths seem common cold weather gear, though one of the cloaks seem exceptionally made. There are a few backpacks, one of which has an unusual number of pockets. There seem to be components for spells in a sack, a few bits of alchemical reagents, but no where does Kalt find a sack of diamond dust.
As he begins to grow frustrated, he notices some unusual marks around the base of a tent. Tearing down the tent he finds a string that leads down into the frozen ground and a bit of disturbed earth. Digging up the area, Kalt finally finds his target, much to the chagrin of the men shivering yards away. They talk feverishly, but nothing aggressive comes of it.
After travelling miles away, Kalt eventually settles down for the evening, not wanting to risk travelling during the peak of a northern night. Blessedly, the night seems to pass uneventfully, and a in the morning he sets out to return with his prize.
Barely beginning his travels, he spots a woman trudging through the snow. She does not seem well prepared for the trek, as there is no sign of a tent or bedroll. As he watches her from a distance, an odd occurrence happens. She begins to glow with a white aura that fades after a moment. Then she turns toward the ranger, and her eyes go wide.
Kalt collects those items that seem of some value, the fine cloak, the backpack with extra pockets, the magical and alchemical components – anything that might help offset his debt to Katz’s people for returning him to life. He clenches a fist in quiet triumph as he finds the string that leads him to the diamond dust, pockets his find quickly, and moves on.
He raises a hand in silent farewell to the two men, then moves off into the storm, his snowshoes propelling him more quickly than the men could hope to move, and his tracks soon vanishing in the snow.
After a quiet night’s rest, Kalt sets out, his heart lightened by having accomplished his mission. Soon after starting the day’s hike, however, he spots movement in the snow, and sees it is a woman, travelling alone and ill-prepared for survival in these lands. What was that? he asks himself. She…glowed for a moment there. Better approach with some care. As he has this thought, she turns and looks at him. Kalt is not used to being spotted easily in the wild, and his caution redoubles as he moves closer.
Stopping about thirty feet from her, he calls out to in Skald, ”Good morning. Are you all right? This is a harsh place to travel so lightly.”
What's this?
The woman stops as well, eyeing the man across the short distance. She tilts her head slightly, her expression one of slight puzzlement. After a few awkward moments of silence she nods slowly and answers him in his own language. "I am... alright. Fire..." she trails off. The flames, dancing on the pyre... red and yellow and more than a hint of pure white.
The woman grimaces and shakes her head, looking down at the snow as if suddenly lost in thought.