Elen is not terribly surprised when Krystae follows up with suspicion and threats. As I expected, she inwardly sighs, and then replies:
"I know nothing of the tragedy you have suffered, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me -- unless you attack me, of course. The witches of Irrisen are my mortal enemies as well, as Estrid hated them with the icy cold of the deepest winter. Look, will this help you believe me?"
Elen pulls down the front of her dress, exposing more of her cleavage than most would find proper, though not baring her breasts. In between her bosoms, just over her heart, is a tattoo of a Desnan butterfly, and the look of the tattoo suggests that it has been many years -- perhaps decades -- since it was made. "My faith in Lady Starsong has been strong and abiding for years, and I never will abandon her or betray another of her worshippers. Years ago, when I stood at the crown of the world at night, and watched the wheel of the stars rotate around the north star, directly above me, I swore a vow to her to always keep her in my heart, and so I had this inked upon my skin as soon as I could." She releases her dress, and the collar returns to a more modest position.
Helios blushes noticeably at Elen's display, coughing into his fist and turning away abruptly to something of great interest on the unconscious giant. "Ahem, well, that's good enough for me...ahem, so you were saying, Professor? This man is a ghost?" Obviously the half-elf's brain has been addled...
The big man mumbles something unintelligible in a language that sounds like Skald, but none of the words make any sense. He struggles a bit, but is too weak and too addled to make his body do what his mind seems to want it to.
Something tugs at the hem of Kristae's tunic, but nothing is there when she looks.
The sounds of worried children whispering and crying can be very faintly heard. The voices sound muffled, or perhaps very far away.
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Krystae nods to Brynjar, holding up an index finger to indicate she needed a moment.
"Ghosts? There are ghosts following him? But how do you know this? You don't appear to know him, do you know OF him? Is he some kind of local legend?
Judging from his piecemeal equipment, one might assume some of the parts are from very old pieces originally, do you believe him to be a tomb robber haunted by the spirits of the dead he robbed?"
Krystae blinked. The tengu must have missed the invisible footprints... "I know nothing of this man, no more than any of you." She hesitates a moment. "I... I just made an assumption based off the strange footprints following this... man." She suddenly feels something tug upon her clothes; however, she looks down and sees nothing. At this same time she hears disembodied whispers of children. She glances around and then suddenly strides to peer out the windows of the merchant building. She frowns and turns back to stare at Ragnar. "Whatever the case, our "friend" here has something that follows him."
"I know nothing of the tragedy you have suffered, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me -- unless you attack me, of course. The witches of Irrisen are my mortal enemies as well, as Estrid hated them with the icy cold of the deepest winter. Look, will this help you believe me?"
Elen pulls down the front of her dress, exposing more of her cleavage than most would find proper, though not baring her breasts. In between her bosoms, just over her heart, is a tattoo of a Desnan butterfly, and the look of the tattoo suggests that it has been many years -- perhaps decades -- since it was made. "My faith in Lady Starsong has been strong and abiding for years, and I never will abandon her or betray another of her worshippers. Years ago, when I stood at the crown of the world at night, and watched the wheel of the stars rotate around the north star, directly above me, I swore a vow to her to always keep her in my heart, and so I had this inked upon my skin as soon as I could." She releases her dress, and the collar returns to a more modest position.
Krystae examines the tattoo closely... "As I said before, I believe you speak the truth, Witch. That does not mean I will trust you. A follower of The North Star is safe around me. Do not betray my kindness."
She turns to follow Brynjar outside into the biting cold, though it hardly seemed to bother the inquisitor as she follows behind the large mercenary. Once clear of the others, she turns toward him. "What do you know, Brynjar."
"What? No! Listen, before this thing gets any more confused, let me state it again."
"This man, Indicating Ragnar, Is not a ghost but a living being, Krystae claims that he is followed by ghosts, and while I have personally seen no evidence of it I believe her.
What I was saying is that the man must have a reason for being followed yes?
If you look at his equipment you will see it has a very piecemeal look to it, POSSIBLY hinting at grave robbing, this POSSIBLY hinting at him being followed by the spirits of the departed that he has robbed.
Mind you, this is just off the top of my head and may be completely false."
"Since this seems to be a day for strange occurrences, you don't think the nobleman was in any way connected to the noblewoman that was taken? It seems unlikely, but with everything else going on I thought it prudent to ask."
Dark blue eyes looked to the alchemist, Brynjar thought the whole idea far fetched, but before he could completely dismiss he recalled that he never really knew where this noblewoman was from She could be from Korvosa...but still the chances of her being related to the same nobleman who hired the mercenary I bought the sword from are low Shifting his glance from Havelock to the wounded mercenary, the scarred warrior tried his best to remember if he have seen this man's face before or not.
She turns to follow Brynjar outside into the biting cold, though it hardly seemed to bother the inquisitor as she follows behind the large mercenary. Once clear of the others, she turns toward him. "What do you know, Brynjar."
She thinks I know something she does not? Ever the law-keeper... Brynjar fixed Krystae with a look that poorly hid the intrigue he felt within, he also made sure to keep his arms by his side, so she can relax her guard and focus on listening...but the half-chelixian had a feeling that the woman in the black cloak was inseparable from the vigilance she wore as armor.
"I know very little, but what little I know could be something your missing, just as I missed a single name that made a lot of things clearer for me" Began Brynjar, his voice was drenched with seriousness, and his face while unsmiling didn't carry its usual scowl "But information isn't the only thing I am offering you" Continued the red haired man, his eyes not leaving the blond woman before him, even when he felt they were being watched probably the villagers she talked to while we were inside He had seen her address them from the window he was looking through.
"But first tell me...is it hard picking which whispers you listen to?" Said Brynjar, his manner of speech surprisingly cryptic even to him, it reminded him of the Shaonti Elders he so resented, and immediately he decided to make things clearer to his listener "You've got your rage on one hand and your duty on another, I shouldn't even bother asking, making a decision must be like tearing your self apart" He continued, in all honesty he was glad she decided to follow him, somehow he doubted she wanted people to listen to this particular conversation.
"I remember hearing a voice just before I unsheathed my sword" Brynjar walked closer to Krystae and stopped about three steps away from her "It was yours and you sounded angry, so I wouldn't be wrong if I said that your spear would have probably went for Elen if I didn't draw my weapon first" The gleam of intrigue in Brynjar's eyes didn't disappear, but his gaze hardened to match sternness that enveloped his voice.
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"But information isn't the only thing I am offering you"
Krystae raised an eyebrow at that comment, but refrained from a retort. She assumed it was simply a strange choice of words. She continued to listen, but did not like the way Brynjar was watching her... waiting to see her reaction. She felt very much like the fireflies she used to catch during the summers and put in jars so she could watch them glow. His words were strangely cryptic for one she had originally believed to be a bloodthirsty simpleton.
"I remember hearing a voice just before I unsheathed my sword" Brynjar walked closer to Krystae and stopped about three steps away from her "It was yours and you sounded angry, so I wouldn't be wrong if I said that your spear would have probably went for Elen if I didn't draw my weapon first" The gleam of intrigue in Brynjar's eyes didn't disappear, but his gaze hardened to match sternness that enveloped his voice.
'Ah, so we have come full circle to the point.' A duel of words and wits it would be then. She did not realize the half-smirk that touched her lips as she turned her own stern gaze upon Brynjar; she was good at this. She was trained for this sort of thing. "Perhaps. And yet your very own actions changed the course of those possible events. Who is to say, dear Brynjar, what the outcome could have been if that sword of yours had stayed within its leathery home?"
Krystae suddenly laughs. "I can see having you as a companion is going to be great fun, Brynjar. I do hope you can hold your drink as well as you can fence with words."
Her next words are much more serious. "I am a disadvantage. You know my reasons for distrusting witches... I would ask yours."
Seeing her eyebrow raised, Brynjar thought she was either astounded by his words or simply found them strange, he had expected more of a reaction, something that would let him learn more of her, again he was reminded of someone from his past, who employed similar verbal tactics to learn more of the people he worked with Jovell... The Shoanti, Jovell and maybe even his cousin, he had learned useful things from all of them, despite how much he hated them. His face showed a slight frown before it returned to its blank mask.
She did not realize the half-smirk that touched her lips as she turned her own stern gaze upon Brynjar; she was good at this. She was trained for this sort of thing. "Perhaps. And yet your very own actions changed the course of those possible events. Who is to say, dear Brynjar, what the outcome could have been if that sword of yours had stayed within its leathery home?"
The half-smirk that drew itself upon Krystae's face, was not the portrait he expected to see, and that assisted in him not preparing himself for her own stone hard look. The words that followed that gaze completely protected her from his own It seems law-keepers here are trained in both blade and word But nevertheless he knew what he heard, and he knew the rage that he saw burning in her eyes in the apothecary.
suddenly laughs. "I can see having you as a companion is going to be great fun, Brynjar. I do hope you can hold your drink as well as you can fence with words."
It was now Brynjar's turn to raise an eyebrow, the red haired warrior had dealt and conversed with many a guard or law-keeper, and she was very different from most, but nevertheless it had been a while since he had fenced words with anyone, so he was more or less amused by the whole affair. This amusement did not show on his face and he would for now place it aside, as there was a more serious matter to attend to.
Her next words are much more serious. "I am a disadvantage. You know my reasons for distrusting witches... I would ask yours."
The seriousness he felt a need to return to seemed to be contagious, as Krystae's next words were completely humorless "My reasons are not as direct or as noble as yours...I plan to end their lives because they motivated, guided and worked with my now dead cousin" Brynjar felt his rage well up inside of him but he quickly enchained it and forced it down before it would gain momentum and become akin to a raging flooded river. While his lips didn't betray any emotion, his eyes readily showed the rage he felt for a brief moment "and my cousin tried hard to end my life, but at the end I ended hers" Even now he could remember his hands clasping around her neck and squeezing, choking until he heard a sickening crunch, he didn't remember taking pleasure in killing her, he simply felt angry and betrayed...which was not different from how he felt on most of his days now.
"Furthermore, ghosts are as I understand it incorporeal, that is to say, they have no physical presence, and as such they would be virtually incapable of affecting the world around them unless being anchored to it by some tangible item meaningful to their former existence."
Havelock once more indicates Ragnar as he continues to loudly lecture Helios.
"As such, something on this person would serve as a link...unless...
Unless the MAN himself is the link.
Intriguing, oh the possibilities..."
Shaking himself from his contemplations, the Tengu instead focuses on the proprietor of the shop.
"Excuse me, before we get too far of track, could we see this survivor of the attack, he should ask him questions before we forget what we came here for in the first place."
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Krystae nods her understanding of Brynjar's hatred towards witches. She offers him a small smile and places a hand on his shoulder. "Well then Brynjar Kilaanti, I believe you have made yourself a friend. Whether you want one or not." She adds with a wink. "I know you are slow to trust, I appreciate that. Perhaps after we have investigated this occurance in the Border Woods, you and I can have a talk over some ale. I, too, am seeking out the White Witches. A stalwart campanion such as yourself would be welcome for the journey to the north."
She turns back towards the apothecary. "For now, however, let us return to speak with this Ulfen mercenary and see what he has to offer us all."
She offers him a small smile and places a hand on his shoulder. "Well then Brynjar Kilaanti, I believe you have made yourself a friend. Whether you want one or not." She adds with a wink. "I know you are slow to trust, I appreciate that. Perhaps after we have investigated this occurance in the Border Woods, you and I can have a talk over some ale. I, too, am seeking out the White Witches. A stalwart campanion such as yourself would be welcome for the journey to the north."
The smile on Krystae's face and her hand on his shoulder took the red haired warrior completely by surprise, such a reaction was not something he expected or planned for, neither was her offering the deal that he was about to propose. Brynjar stood still for a moment to recollect his thoughts, and watched as his breath appeared before him, he had forgotten the cold because he was too busy watching for the reactions of the blond woman before him, but now it came back with a full force and once more he regretted not buying anything for this cold weather.
"Being slow to trust is a kind way of putting it, but for now I trust your rage towards these witches and your hatred of them" Said the scarred man, he hadn't expected to make a friend while he was on this grim journey.
She turns back towards the apothecary. "For now, however, let us return to speak with this Ulfen mercenary and see what he has to offer us all."
Brynjar nodded once and proceeded to follow after the law-keeper, he wanted another look at that wounded mercenary, he wanted to know if he had seen him before or not, he also desired to be there when Yuln began recounting the events he went through. If Yuln proved to be in league with the supposed mercenaries that attacked this noblewoman, then anything he said was of no use to them, until they dragged the real truth out of him.
Helios wonders if he's flushing as much as he thinks he is as he nods agreement with Havelock's observations. "Well, time will tell, Professor."
As the Tengu redirects his attentions to the owner of the establishment, the half-elf makes an effort to avoid eye contact with Elen so his face won't redden further.
Havelock notices Helios as he waits for the apothecary to answer, at first he intends to scold him a little for behaving like a shy schoolboy, but then he decides to hold back his comment and instead just snorts.
This is going to be a long trip...and I just bet we'll be one more when we leave.
Well, it won't be so bad, Helios seems like a good listener, and Elen seems like a bright lass.
I’m not sure about Krystae and Brynjar yet, but I trust their competence if nothing else.
Which leaves us with you big man...
Elen notices Helios's discomfiture, and feels a little surprised. Humans -- and half-breeds -- have become much more prudish in recent decades. Or maybe he's just more shy than he lets on?
She decides to let Krystae's distrustful words pass without comment, as she is uncertain what to say in response, and concerned about making things worse than their present, tolerable, state.
Elen will ask the apothecary for a warm blanket to cover Ragnar, and make sure he is close enough to the hearth to be warmed by the fire.
Having done so, her next move will be to follow Havelock and Helios to see the survivor of the attack.
Elen whispers to Helios as they move to their next destination, "I hope I have not offended you. I would not start our acquaintanceship on a down note."
Brynjar doesn't recognize the mercenary.
As your attention shifts to the wounded mercenary, the apothecary introduces the man as Yuln Oerstag. Wrapped in bandages, the Ulfen mercenary’s nose, fingers, and toes have taken on a black hue from serious frostbite, and he is still heavily wounded. Despite the best efforts of Elder Safander, Heldren’s village priest, it will take some time before Yuln is hale and hearty enough to travel again, much less wield a weapon. Despite his obvious pain, however, he waves you closer.
“Would that I could go with you,” he says. “My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away.”
"I hope I have not offended you. I would not start our acquaintanceship on a down note."
"Oh not at all, dear lady." He pauses long enough to turn and gently take the elf lady's hand - assuming she'll let him - and plant a gentle kiss upon it. "No offense taken. Interestingly enough, even a sharp-tongued storyteller such as myself can be put off his guard." Helios holds her hand as gently as he'd taken it and smiles. There is a touch of what Elen may think of as sadness in his eyes, barely perceptible but there. "I've given a good portion of my years over to leveraging people out of the...caste they've been set within. I will tell you that I've not the history of our other companions, but I do not share their...trepidations in regards to your nature. As for Helios Sunstreaker, you've begun your acquaintance with him on good terms."
He pats her hand and smiles once again before releasing it. Then the apothecary comes to retrieve them for an introduction to the Ulfen warrior.
"Would that I could go with you. My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away."
"What can you tell us of these foes, good Yuln? Were they human? Orc perhaps? Some monstrous biped?" Helios asks pointedly, remembering that in Ulfen culture, directness is best. "To what direction did they depart?"
“We thought they were just bandits at first— mostly human outlaws who hide like wolves in the forest. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey of the north. They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of the winter-touched all the time, but I never expected to meet them this far south.”
“They took Lady Argentea into the forest, back through the ice and snow. Beyond that, I don’t know. I followed as far as I could, but the winter-touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped, and rode to seek help here.”
"Cold fey of the north... Could you describe what they looked like? Also, how were the outlaws dressed and armed?
Did you see any signature mark? Did you identify a leader?"
The Tengu taps his beak as he thinks.
"I can see you won't be able to travel again for some time, but I would appreciate if you can be as precise as you can when indicating where we should search. The longer we wait the less likely we are to be able o pick up the tracks."
Elen blushes intensely when Helios kisses her hand, the flush extending out to the tips of her ears.
When Yuln speaks of cold fey of the north, Elen reflects on what her mentor told her of them, and what she encountered herself. She also considers what she may have heard about bandit attacks in the area.
The fire's warmth seeped into the blanket and into the big man's skin. The frost in his hair and beard melted and his breath stopped fogging, but his color remained pale as death.
A cup lifted itself from a nearby table and precariously floated to the big man's lips. His eyes fluttered open as he drank. They were a blue so pale that they bordered on white.
He coughed and sputtered and croaked out words.
"Tack själv."
"Thank you."
As the conversation between his companions and the bedridden mercenary went on, Brynjar focused on the words and tone of Yuln, trying to ascertain whether they were being told the truth by injured Ulfen man, and whether he he was holding anything back or not So why haven't they sent any demands or asked for a ransom? Brynjar crossed his arms, clearly displeased by the many uncertainties of this whole situation, but he elected to remain silent and watchful...for now.
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Krystae listens closely to the words of Yuln and the cold fey that had attacked the caravan... 'Somehow I knew the evil of the north had something to do with this unnatural weather.' She kept her thoughts to herself for the time being, instead she absently touched the crow feather hanging around her neck. She searches her memory for any information she may have in reference to the cold fey Yuln speaks about.
"You did well returning for help. There is no valor to be had dying a needless death when the lives of others hangs in the balance." She tells her Ulfen brethren. "Yuln, did you see of the witches of Irrisen amongst these bandits?"
As Elen and the others are about to head to Yuln, they suddenly see the cup of water float through the air to the man.
When the man speaks, Elen exclaims, "Oh, that sounds like Skald, but it's a funny dialect!" (Elen has no training in linguistics.)
For the benefit of Brynjar, Elen says, "I'm just telling him my name and asking his."
The big man blinks, and focuses his eyes on the woman speaking to him, but he seems confused.
"Jag kan bara förstå en del av dina ord. Jag är Ragnar, son Kul. Var är jag?"
"I kan only förstå some av your word. I am Ragnar, son Kul. Where är I?"
Ahh, the giant-kin awakens... The half-elf grins with the possibilities of learning the stranger's origins. He stands alongside Elen and listens in on their conversation.
""Er du vågen? Kan du forstår mig? Du var næsten frosne! Jeg Elen, hvad er dit navn?" The elf woman speaks to the big man in Skald, Helios picking that out fairly quickly.
The big man on the table, garbed in a piecemeal of armors and clothing, reminds Helios of druids out of children's tales. Or at lease the ones his father had brought with him from his travels in the north. "Jag kan bara förstå en del av dina ord. Jag är Ragnar, son Kul. Var är jag?" The big man replies to Elen's question.
Helios' head tilts ever so slightly as though his slightly pointed ear is grabbing the stranger's words from the air. It is Skald...but buried beneath layers of...
...attempting to pick out the formation of phrases the stranger is using...
...time. It's like Skald but buried beneath layers of time. The storyteller shakes his head, not sure if 'time' is the right word. But his father's stories kept standing on the other side of the door to his memory.
Hmmm...förstå...it is greatly similar to forstår...'to understand'...the rest of his phrase...I ka...no, I can only to under...no, 'I can only understand some...I am Ragnar, son of Kul...' Helios, arms crossed, eyes staring into the ceiling as he concentrates continues to work on plaguing out the growing enigma on the table.
As he does, he allows his subconscious to survey the big man... ...
Helios considers the man's name for a moment. Searching the castle of his to see if he can tease out any sort of tidbit from the trove of stories he'd committed to memory.
"It's skald, but it sounds...ancient, likely a dialect that differentiated from the norm in times past, was isolated to an area where it gradually became compressed further into...let us call it "proto-Skald" for now."
The birdman tilts his head to one side as he observes the large man slowly.
His eyes...does not reflect the dull-wittedness they often assume all ogres and ogre-kin posses.
But there is something there, something...strange.
As what he thought just then slowly sinks in, the Tengu gives voice to a loud caw of amusement.
Yes, in the company of humans and elfin people, I certainly do not possess the right to speak about someone being strange.
..."Or he is simply unsued to speaking, which would also explain why he sounds a bit strange."
Helios rests his chin in his hand, contemplating. "I think you're on to something professor. Even his name, Ragnar, is something out of the tales of old. A name not used very frequently even in the lands of the north."
The half-elf smiles as he watches Ragnar search about the apothecary's shop in unabashed wonder...or maybe awestruck. But his primary focus is on the elf woman. His soft brown eyes never leave his study of Ragnar as he continues his thoughts out loud. "Then there is his father's name, Kul. A popular enough name for he is a man out legend, a valiant warrior in Ulfen history, making for a common name when parents seek for their son to rise to a prodigious greatness."
"Om jag får till att vara avbrott artigt, kallas jag av solen ... fela, Hileeoss." The elf pauses for a moment, pressing his hand to his chest and inclining his head in a traditional Ulfen gesture of greeting. He then attempts to continue. "Jag och dessa ha funnit dig i fryst pulver vatten under vita prickar i himlen innan nu." He points outside on this one, indicating the window casements and the night time beyond. He clears his throat, scratching at his hair and continues. "Vi frågor måste därför ... nej, hur du kom till ankomsten av ... ingen ankomst på plats som denna?"
Elen notices the way Ragnar is looking at her and suddenly becomes bashful again.
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Krystae spots the floating cup as it makes a path towards the strange, large man. She watches intently as he takes a drink and speaks... what appears to be Skald, though it sounds strange to the inquisitor. She listens quietly as the others speak with this.... Ragnar he said was his name.
'An enigma, this one... where has he come from? Or perhaps...when? No, preposterous. He is simply a strange... man?' She sighs. The web of intrigue about Heldren continues to entangle and snare about her; Krystae needed to unravel the strands soon, before she became entangled it them.
She listens to Havelock's thoughts on the matter, which could easily explain the strangeness of his dialect. There were countless tribes in the northern lands, some terribly isolated from the rest of the world in the mountains.
"Then there is his father's name, Kul. A popular enough name for he is a man out legend, a valiant warrior in Ulfen history, making for a common name when parents seek for their son to rise to a prodigious greatness."
Ulfen to be sure, there is no doubt. That would explain his size, perhaps some frost giant blood? She catches Brynjar's eyes with a look. She inclines her chin slightly towards his sword, then looks meaningfully down at Ragnar. Hopefully the mercenary understood her intent; if the strange man attacks, Brynjar is to take him down.
Krystae's eyes glance to Elen's tattoo as she directs her gaze back to Ragnar. 'Fated, indeed. Perhaps the Witch is right...'She comes to kneel next to Ragnar. "Ragnar, son Kul. Jag är Krystae Stormcrow. Var kommer du ifrån? Hur kom du att vara här?"
Having been captivated by the web of his own thoughts, left Brynjar unaware of what happened around him, he only broke free once heard the voice of the large man they had hauled into the apothecary. Brynjar's mistrustful glance came over Ragnar, but did nothing besides that, even after the others tried communicating with the giant he remained vigil, the only good thing he found about this stranger among them was that he was no ogre or other monstrous creature...just a man of great size, and men of all sizes fell if struck in the right places.
She catches Brynjar's eyes with a look. She inclines her chin slightly towards his sword, then looks meaningfully down at Ragnar. Hopefully the mercenary understood her intent; if the strange man attacks, Brynjar is to take him down.
The subtle gestures of the law-keeper sent a clear message to him, a message he would wholeheartedly follow. Despite the fact that he only met her today, he had to at least admit to himself that he liked the way her mind works and how she took her job very seriously, he always found himself having respect for anyone who handled their responsibilities with a no nonsense attitude.
Brynjar returned to watching the recovering giant after giving Krystae a subtle nod, his dark blue eyes still radiating the same mistrustful gleam they had since he started eying the recently awakened stranger.
Ragnar glanced around the room, taking in each person's appearance as they spoke. His eyes occasionally flicked away clearly distracted and having trouble focusing. He held the cup out and something unseen took it and gracelessly carried it back to the table where it had originally been.
"Jag hälsar er, Helios och Kristae. Vi är från länderna av Kul Khan. Mitt folk var förbannade av Haeva Yaga. Endast barnen och jag flydde. Jag vet var jag är, eller hur jag hamnade här. Jag gick helt enkelt-"
He stopped abruptly, his words cut short when his eyes found the bird-man among them.
"I greet you, Helios and Kristae Stormcrow. We are from länderna av Kul Khan. My folk were förbannade by the Haeva Yaga. Only the children and I flydde. We do know where we are, or how we came to here. We walked-"
He pushed his blanket aside and rolled himself to the floor to kneel before the Tengu, his head bowed in reverence.
"Ärade Watcher, ber jag om ursäkt. Jag såg inte dig."
"Honored Watcher, I much sorry. I did not see you."
The Tengu tilts his head to one side as he observes the curious giant suddenly kneeling to HIM of all people.
"Is...is it me he is addressing here? Watcher he says, watcher of what?"
Shaking his head, he then clears his throat and addresses Ragnar.
"Nog nu, son av Kul, res dig genast och förklara dig, jag tror du tar fel på mig och någon annan."
Ragnar promptly stands, and smacks his head into the ceiling hard enough to shake the walls. He grunts and his face screws up in pain as he stoops and rubs his head.
"Förlåt mig. I. .. tror jag förstår. Jag visste inte."
"Forgive me. I... think I understand. I did not know."
Ragnar's behavior seems a lot like a child who just realized he'd accidentally done something very bad, and is waiting to see if he will be punished or not.
Before the rise of the True Gods, the Ulfen had a sort of shamanistic ancestor worship tradition. Their Old Gods still exist in their myths as legendary heroes. Chief among the old gods was Rotan, who's servants, the Vigdir, took the forms of crows and wolves, and sometimes hybrid animal-man forms for the greatest among them. The Ulfen link to Lycanthropy is sometimes attributed to something in these legends.
The Crow-Vigdir are called Rotan's Eyes or Watchers. Crows are powerful omens in Ulfen culture, especially among clans who are more reverent to the old ways.
Watchers often took the forms of men, but those with the second sight could pierce their disguise and see them for what they really are. It is considered a great insult to reveal a Vigdir who is performing it's duties.
In Taldane, Elen says to Havelock, "Oh! I think he thinks you're a crow-spirit, a watcher, like some of the old clans still believe in. So you'd be a servant of the ancestral hero-gods in that case. Up to you if you want to tell him differently." She giggles musically.
"Wha...but...no, I...that's...oh come now!"
Havelock throws his hands in the air in frustration.
After a considerable humming and hawing, he suddenly seizes on something Ragnar said before, something, ANYTHING to shift the focus away from him.
"He said only he and the children escaped, what children`? Where are they?"
"I think the children must be the ghosts... the footprints looked like little feet, children's feet... Oh! he said Hava Yaga -- that sounds like Baba Yaga."
Ragnar makes the Sign of the Tree, and ancient symbol of warding, when Elen speaks.
"Hava" is an old Skald word meaning Daughter. To the Ulfen of today it is less of a description of family and more of an honorific, much the way priests are called 'father." To the old clans, it meant both and was a way of describing a Firstborn or favored child.
When he saw Ragnar arise from his bed, Brynjar's hand moved in a very familiar motion, to a destination it knew all too well, but halted its advance when he saw the sight of the tall man bumping his head into the roof, and then he began rubbing at it.
He's a strange one Brynjar returned his hand by his side and continued eying Ragnar, hoping to discern the intent of this man he simply could not understand.
Elen does not recognize the linguistic significance, and looks at Helios wondering if he has any idea.
"Cold fey of the north... Could you describe what they looked like? Also, how were the outlaws dressed and armed?
Did you see any signature mark? Did you identify a leader?"The Tengu taps his beak as he thinks.
"I can see you won't be able to travel again for some time, but I would appreciate if you can be as precise as you can when indicating where we should search. The longer we wait the less likely we are to be able to pick up the tracks."
“Fey creatures who have sworn themselves to the White Witches of Irrisen, those who stole our lands from us during the Winter War. Tiny sprites no taller than the length of a man’s forearm. But don’t be fooled by their small stature. Legends say they have taken a sliver of ice into their hearts, and their touch bears the harsh bite of winter.”
"The bandits themselves were mostly lightly armored with swords and bows, the better to stalk their prey in the forest. I think they must be led by a necromancer, for some of my companions rose to fight their own comrades after they were slain. In the chaos of battle I didn't ever see his face." Yuln also describes the site in detail. He says it is six miles south of Heldren on the road.
"Yuln, did you see of the witches of Irrisen amongst these bandits?"
"No, I didn't. But no doubt they were the ones who sent the winter-touched after us. We know whom they serve." You can almost taste Yuln's hatred seething through his voice.
You get some circumstance bonuses on this roll due to your background, and recall the following:
Chief among the allies of Baba Yaga and the White Witches of Irrisen are the winter-touched, a special breed of fey immune to the harsh weather and low temperatures of the frozen north. Willingly pledging themselves to a wholly evil life, these creatures undergo a complex ritual called the Winter Rite, in which they accept a sliver of ice into their hearts that infuses their bodies with the same supernatural winter perpetuated by the White Witches of Irrisen. The resulting transformation gives the fey’s skin a sickly bluish cast marked with spidery white veins like hoarfrost on glass. These evil fey can channel the power of winter into their attacks, slowing their victims with numbing cold. The winter-touched universally delight in spreading the influence of the White Witches, carrying out the wills of the witches who performed their Winter Rites. The winter-touched display a chilling loyalty that borders on fanaticism—a devotion all but guaranteed given the White Witches’ ability to fatally pierce the hearts of those who fail them with the same slivers of ice the fey so willingly accepted.
From your knowledge local check you know that for many years, an organization of Taldan rangers called the High Sentinels has operated out of a fortified lodge inside the Border Wood, and normally keep the forest quite safe from bandits. If bandits are operating with such impunity, something must have happened to the Sentinels, as they would never tolerate such crimes.
You are sure that Yuln is being truthful. He doesn't seem to be hiding anything. He does seem to you to have some survivor's guilt and is deeply shamed by his running away.
"Hrm...That might make a fascinating case study. I will have to make sure to verify that tale empirically."
That is to say, dissect one of them.
"Six miles...it would not take too long to cover that ground, but do we leave now or do we wait until tomorrow?
I for one would like at least one hour so that I may replace the mutagen I employed earlier."
Havelock folds his hands behind his back and begins to pace back and forth.
"So, our goal then is twofold, rescue the Nobel lady and, if possible, find out what exactly prompted them to grab her in the first place.
It IS possible that she does not know, so we should endeavour to take a prisoner for interrogation...if possible."
"Is there anything else we need to keep in mind here people? I confess, my skills may be more intellectual, when it comes to simple practical applications, I can sometimes overlook what may seem obvious to others."
"You" Said Brynjar as he closed the distance between him and the injured mercenary "I've seen that look before" He slammed his fist into a nearby wall, his eyes radiated what looked like anger and were focused on the injured man.
"You ran and survived, you know what that means? You're smart, you saw a hopeless fight and you knew it was best to live another day, than to die for coin you won't be able to spend" the red haired warrior's frown deepened "So stop acting like this was all somehow your fault" Finished Brynjar before he turned away from Yuln and walked away, leaving the man to consider the harsh words he left him with.
Elen relates what she recalls about the winter-touched fey. "These beings were among the dangers of the White Witches Estrid warned me about most fervently. We should make sure to be prepared for their attacks."
"As I was travelling here, I was told of an organization of Taldan rangers that keeps local bandits in check. We might want to find out if something has happened to the local lodge of the Sentries."
"We can certainly wait for you to brew your potion, Havelock. We may wish to acquire supplies specifically related to fighting these creatures."