Elen kindly touches Ragnar on the shoulder (having to reach up to do so). In elven, she murmurs, "Is your head bothering you, Ragnar? Some willow bark tea should help with that, I'll see if we can make some once we have a chance."
Ragnar nods. "Thank you, Worldkeeper. What are all the golden round things?" he asked, confused by the group's fascination.
"Gold coins. Gold is valuable metal, which -- let me see, I would guess your tribe used barter to exchange items of value? Coins are gold bits of known weight and purity, serving as a proxy for value, so that trade may be conducted more easily between larger groups."
Elen answers Droviz, "Well, simplest would be to appraise the jewelry and such, and then divide everything evenly. I wouldn't mind a few pretties to show off..."
"That not jewelry." Ragnar said, still not quite understanding. "How do people know how many... those... a thing is worth?"
"It's complicated, but there's kind of a generally agreed-on standard. A gold coin may be called a crown, or an Oban, or a malda, or many other things depending on where it's from, but in most cases they all contain the same amount of gold, and in most places you can buy, say, a jar of honey, or a simple outfit of clothing, or a hammer, or a couple nights at an Inn, for that coin. And when you give the innkeeper the coin, he can then use it to buy an outfit, or honey, or a hammer, or anything else, without you knowing that's what he wants it for."
"That, and there's numbers on them. See?" Droviz plucks a coin from the loot and tosses it to Ragnar. "Crests too, and nibbling round the edges make them harder to forge."
"Seems like bad idea." Ragnar said skeptically, squinting at the little coin in his big hand. Then he shrugged. "The future is strange place."
"It's a great idea! Coins are easier to carry and loot than cows and wheat," Droviz says.
"No can eat gold." Ragnar said, like he was explaining something that shouldn't need explaining.
Havelock manages to break free of his infatuation with the gold, then he begins to chuckle softly.
"You can't blame Ragnar for being sceptical, more likely than not his people engaged in bartering, trading what they needed for other things of value."
"However, the concept is the same, even in a bartering system, something that is hard to get or rare is worth more, and gold is a precious metal that is hard to find, thus it becomes more valuable.
But it is not as useful as steel or even bronze, so people use it as a means to simplify trade.
with coins, you can trade without the fuss of driving an entire herd of cattle to market.
A handful of coins can trade hands for a big deal to take place."
"Also, you can carry coin and trade it for food wherever you go, so long as you stay near people," Droviz says. "Unlike food, coin doesn't spoil or rot."
Ragnar looks a little sad for a moment. "I miss eating."
"Well, once we have dealt with this situation, we will make a delicious meal! Or buy one."
Once they have appraised their winnings, Elen will say, "Alright. Let's deal with that portal, we have to close it or reverse it or something."
"Well, I am no expert, but I am a little worried...
You see, in most stories, a portal needs to be closed from the point of origin, and that may just be on the OTHER side..."
As you approach the portal, you see a bank of quill-like icicles spear outward in a ring, seemingly grown from a heavy sheet of ice covering the ground. A second ring of giant icicle-shaped monoliths stands inside the outer ring, surrounding a swirling cylindrical vortex easily ten feet in diameter. Icy winds and driving snow blast from the vortex, creating the wintry weather in the clearing.
A surge of wind suddenly blasts from the swirling vortex in the ring of icicles, gusting outward in a stinging spray of snow and ice. Suddenly, a gaunt horseman with curling ram’s horns and wearing coal-black armor lurches through the portal astride a black warhorse, surrounded by tendrils of cold, dark mist. The rider slumps in the saddle, a shard of blue ice jutting from his back. As rider and mount come to a halt in the snow, the horse suddenly dissipates into black smoke, and the horseman falls to the ground with a groan.
"Well that was...theatrical...
So, any ideas of what we do next?"
"Might not need to tie him up at all, from the looks of things," Droviz says, pointing out the icicle. "But I'll leave that decision to you lovely ladies. Who's got an idea as to what we do about this portal? Do I grab my hammer and just start smashing, or do we shut it down some other way?"
"I highly doubt it would be that easy. If it was, it could easily break just by being overloaded."
Havelock then turns and looks at Elen, fully expecting her to know what the answer might be.
Ragnar just watched, amazed and a bit worried about the armored figure who had walked through a frozen tear in the world.
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Krystae looks at Droviz. "I'd rather not take the chance. So far everything we have encountered has attack us. I say we bind him until we know his allegiance. Ragnar..." She makes another motion with the rope until she realized he may not understand her. "Elen, can you ask Ragnar to tie him up with the rope?"
Elen smiles a bit as she notices Krystae using her name instead of "Witch". "Of course. We'll have to have some language lessons at some point, if we continue to travel together, of course."
Ragnar nods once and obeys the Worldkeeper without question.
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Elen recognizes that the portal can only be closed from the other side.
She also recognizes the rider as the Black Rider, one of Baba Yaga’s Three Riders who herald her return to Irrisen every 100 years. The riders of Baba Yaga are very powerful unique fey; it would have taken a very powerful attack to bring one down.
As Ragnar approaches with the rope in hand, the rider raises a hand in protest. "There is no need... I am dying... and there is nothing any of you can do to stop that now..." He coughs and spits a bit of blood into the snow.
"Come, quickly... there is much that you must know... and I do... not have... much time... Once, I was called Illarion Matveius. Now I am known as Black Midnight. I am Baba Yaga’s Black Rider, harbinger of the Witch Queen’s return."
"Queen Elvanna... seeks to bring ruin to this world. This portal is but one of many, appearing throughout your world. Elvanna... has betrayed us... and plans to spread Irrisen’s permanent winter over the whole of Golarion. She must... be stopped..."
"That don't sound good at all!" Droviz complains. "I want to save up for a little island of my own, one with fruit on the trees! Winter forever would ruin the whole thing - anyone could just walk up to it if the seas froze, and there wouldn't be any fruit! When's your queen coming back to smack around that Elvanna, then?"
"Yes, if you are dying and have information, speak quickly and then I can offer you the mercy of a quick death.
How do we close these portals?
What is Elvanna's plan? How do we stop it? Are there allies we can seek out?"
Elen nods at the tengu, saying, "This looks like the projected side of the portal to me. Elves have a certain, ah, expertise with portals, even though I haven't studied them in detail, I've picked up a few things. We would need to go through and destroy or deactivate whatever form of gate or projector is creating it."
"No matter how much I'm inclined to trust them, telling them about the Elf Gates would be unwise," Elen thinks.
Elen peers at the man's face, and at the insignia on his armor. "Black rider... how is this possible? The Witch Queen... is the enemy of even the Eternal Hag? Daughter turning against mother? But you have no reason to lie, now at the end of your life."
Elen pulls out her wand and touches it to the man, even as she looks over the strange blue ice protruding from his back. "I hope that eases your pain, though it is strange for me to be kind to a creature of the Baba Yaga."
When Droviz mentions his incongruous idea of the island with fruit, Elen laughs despite herself.
Ragnar's eyes flick about the fallen rider's body, gauging wounds. "Witch Queen..." His brow furrows as he tries to remember something from long ago.
Elen quickly summarizes the Rider's words in Elven for Ragnar.
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Krystae watches the rider with unveiled suspicion as he weaves his tale of frozen lands and family disputes. She allows Elen to talk with the Rider, but listens closely to their conversation to ensure no double talk is occurring. The elven witch knew more about the situation than did Krystae and even though she did not quite trust her yet... the elf was the expert in this situation.
Looking to Droviz, the rider replies, "Something has happened to Baba Yaga. Every hundred years, she returns to Irrisen to place a new daughter on the throne. But Queen Elvanna has other plans, it seems. Baba Yaga has not appeared as planned, and Elvanna intends to slay everyone loyal to her mother. She hunted down those of us who would herald Baba Yaga’s return and slew my associates. I am the last of the Three Riders and a threat to Elvanna’s plans... and I do not know if Baba Yaga will be able... to return... after all..."
"Elvanna's plans... are to replace Baba Yaga... and claim all of Golarion as her kingdom. Irrisen is a land of endless winter, created by Baba Yaga’s magic. Elvanna seeks to cover the entire world in ice and snow, using portals like this one.”
"As far as closing the portal... you can find its source in the Pale Tower, on the other side, but this portal is but one of many. Through them, Elvanna will spread a new ice age across your world, consuming it for all eternity. Closing this portal might save your kingdom, but Golarion would still be doomed.”
"You must find Baba Yaga. Only Baba Yaga can defeat Elvanna. Only the Queen of Witches can undo what her daughter has done. You must use her Dancing Hut to follow her. The hut is a powerful artifact that can cross great distances, even travel between worlds. If you can control the hut, it can take you to Baba Yaga.”
Elen's memories of Irrisen history confirm the Rider is telling the truth (that a new queen is placed on the throne every 100 years).
"And... how are we supposed to control this 'Hut'? Where would we even find it?" Droviz asks, mystified. "And not to be callous, but is there any kind of pay in this, other than 'not freeze to a miserable death'?"
After summarizing the Rider's other statements in Elven, Elen says, "This sounds like a literal case of the lesser of two evils. I swore to oppose the witch queens with all my heart, but if this fimbulvinter* is to be stopped, it would appear we must support one to defeat the other.
"Is there any token by which we may prove your story to others? Somehow we must gather a force of great heroes to recover this dancing hut and defeat Elvanna. How long... how long before all the world is like Irrisen: forever winter and never Cystalhue?"
When Droviz asks about pay, Elen raises an eyebrow, but simply says, "If we do defeat Elvanna, I suppose a great amount of her fortunes would be forfeit -- and she is the ageless queen of a terrible and tyrannous realm, which tends to lend itself to accumulating treasure. I've also heard that Baba Yaga is known to reward those who support her, although Irrisen being as it is, such rewards are rarer than punishing those who would betray her."
*Skald: "Great winter"
"Ah, looting rights," Droviz says, nodding sagely. "Nice. Much surer pay than the gratitude of the mighty."
He winks at Elen.
Elen blushes pink. "Flirt later, this is serious right now!"
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"Irrisen. " Ragnar repeated, struggling to follow the rider's words and seemingly listening to more than one conversation. "Daughter of... Yaga..."
Then his face froze in a mask of cold anger and he walked toward the portal.
"Any time is good time for a flirt, a drink, a joke, a meal or a song," Droviz says. "Opportunities to enjoy them are in limited supply, after all."
A bit more serious, Droviz turns to the Rider. "What else can you tell us before you pass? Such as, where is the Hut and how can it be controlled?"
“Elvanna stole the hut and put it on display in Irrisen’s capital, Whitethrone, as a symbol of her power. You must go through the portal to Irrisen and find the Dancing Hut."
"The hut has many keys— objects attuned to the hut—that can take it almost anywhere. I managed to secure two of these keys, but Elvanna stole their power to prevent anyone from using the hut to find her mother. Once they are reactivated, placing the keys in the hut’s cauldron will retrace Baba Yaga’s path."
"My time is running out.... you must... take the keys... and find... Baba Yaga... for I have failed in my task... but you may yet succeed..."
He produces two objects from within his cloak—a lock of white hair from a frost giant’s beard and a plague doctor’s mask. He pulls a small knife from his belt and slits his own throat, bathing the two keys in his life’s blood. As he expires, his magic robes melt away like ice in a fire, leaving behind the body of an old man dressed in a simple black tunic.
As the rider's life force passes, you feel some of his power seeping into your body.
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Krystae blinks upon witnessing the strange scene before them. "We are supposed to step through the portal to seek out some strange, magical witch hut so that we may stop Baba Yaga's daughter from spreading a permanent winter across all of Avistan?" She suddenly laughs. "Is that it?" She rubs her forehead in disbelief for a moment, not yet quiet aware of the magical power which has crept into body...
"This...this is absurd!" The Tengu professor explodes violently.
"We are supposed to enter the very CAPITAL of the nation we are trying to delay? And steal something that is more or less a national treasure as well?!?"
Clenching both hands into fists and pressing them against his temples, the Tengus ire seems unabated for now.
"Oh, and on who's say so are we supposed to do this? Baba Yaga's herald, one of the most wicked beings in history?
What's next? Reawakening the runelords? Freeing the whispering tyrant? Oh, I know, lets break into the endless vault, steal the key to the ravagers prison and free him so he can end the world?"
"Nah, Droviz says in a light tone. "What's next is burying this old boy in the snow and saying words to the gods so he'll stay where he's planted. After that, we basically get on with the job we were already doing."
The dark Elf companionably claps the Tengu on the shoulder. "Think of it this way, friend: yon Witch-Queen already knows we messed up her plans and she's a spiteful one, sounds like. If we don't stop her conquering the world, we'll probably spend tbe rest of our lives running in an endless winter. Better to try and defeat her. Sure, still a chance of death, but we also might win. And we might make a fortune in loot, like Elen said. Loot is good. You could set up your own laboratory with enough loot, or whatever else an Alchemist dreams of having for his retirement."
Ragnar continued to stomp toward the rift.
"It doesn't sound like we have time to gather heroes, he made it sound like a serious, immediate threat." She looks up at sees Ragnar making for the portal. "Ragnar, wait," she calls in Elven, "We must at least give this man a proper, if quick, burial. Even if he was a servant of the Hag."
Ragnar looked over his shoulder, torn for a moment, then stopped right at the edge of the rift. Around him unseen voices whispered and the snow began tracing an intricate pattern spiraling outward from where he stood. He stood silently, staring at the rippling warp in reality, waiting.
Droviz quickly frisks the body and then sets about digging the Black Rider of Baba Yaga a grave in the snow and deposits him in it with as much respect as is feasible under the circumstances. He briefly takes out his silver holy symbol and says a few words: "Savoured Sting, I'm reasonably sure this man was not of your faith, but if you could see fit to usher him through to Pharasma's court if no one else is coming and stop him from getting up and becoming an undead blight, I'd appreciate it."
Tucking the symbol away again, Droviz looks to the others. "Anyone else want to say anything?" he asks, politely.
"Yes, I really wish the bastard would have gone and died somewhere else..."