"Suggest we huddle up close, just as we did yesterday," Droviz says. "If those little whatsits followed us, we don't want to give them isolated targets."
"I'll go scavenge for a bit, then come back here," Droviz offers. "Who's with me? Ragnar?"
Stoking his beak for a moment, Havelock considered the portcullis.
"Not an easy task I fear, as the original one was made out of ice, there may not be a mechanism to control it with.
Secondly, I do not believe we have the craftspeople necessary to undertake such a task.
Nor the metal necessary to create a completely new one..."
"Could the entrance not simply be barricaded? With wagons, and stuff from inside the tower? Creating a narrow gap that can be guarded with spears seems efficient enough. Even with a functional portcullis, they could not withstand a siege, so settling for a sub-optimal yet easily achieved solution seems a reasonable course of action"
"We should also make an attempt to find some plausible way to block the "entry" that Ragnar, ahem, created on our first visit."
Ragnar shook his head. "Need as much food as we can find. We split up. You go that way. I go there."
The hunters return with rabbits, squirrels, and even an elk. Many thanks are issued as they walk through the courtyard and faces light up as full bellies are starting to become the norm. Guards stand watch up on the parapets as wagons and carts are parked to block the main tunnel where the portcullis once hung.
In the morning, goodbyes are said and the townsfolk are all present for the departure. Nadya is insistent about bringing her remaining children with her arguing "I will not leave them again."
The next four days are a miserable, cold journey. Biting wind and constant snow fall make for slow going and several times the entourage is stopped, forced to make shelter until the worst of it passes. That evening, the snow lessens and camp is established.
Roughly an hour later, Nadya raises the alarm. "ORM? ORM! WHERE ARE YOU?" She calls out frantically.
"Please, PLEASE! You...you must help me find my son. He...He was just here a few minutes ago, but now he's gone."
Droviz does his best to find some trace of Orm, but he finds he has to slow down to make any sense of the signs still left with the constant snowfall.
"Nobody go off alone!" he barks. "Stick together, no matter what! Something is trying to pick us off one by one; don't give it another opportunity!"
Frozen Knot Perception result:
Frozen Knot Survival result:
"That is strange. He was here. And none of the young ones would stray far from the camp. I think I last saw him there...lets see if there's any tracks we can follow.", Warden calmly states, heading over towards where the boy was last seen.
"If that is indeed the plan, I shall remain in camp, to try and keep an eye out for whatever else they might try to target while the rest of you find the boy."
There is a certain force behind Havelock's statement of "find the boy", like he refuses to accept any other outcome at this point.
Ragnar scanned, looking for the boy's spirit in case he was already dead and trying to come home.
"My people once told stories. Children led away by wisps. Winter fae are most dangerous of all."
He stayed well behind the others, away from the boy's tracks so that the ghostly children following him would not ruin the trail.
Warden is the first to notice the tracks. Not only Orn's, but several paw prints of some kind of canines. The pace of the group picks up and it's only a minute or two later than the growls and howls are heard.
The tracks lead on ahead through the forest and eventually around a tree. Cornered in a natural boundary, several white wolves have trapped the boy. Two of them fight over his body while two more circle around looking for their own openings. The tug of war has littered the ground with blood. All hope is lost until the boy whimpers, signaling signs of life still. He is a fighter, much like his mother.
A blood-curdling screams escapes from Nadya, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" In an instant, she is overcome with rage.
Warden, realizing the boy to be still alive, throws the shortspear it usually uses as a walking stick at the closest wolf, before approaching the feeding ground and drawing a new shortspear.
The throw, however, is not particularily well-aimed and misses by quite a bit. But while it failed to do damage, it was a clear enough sign for Fang on what needed to be done.
Fang rushes forward, aiming for the wolf closest to Warden, expecting to sink it's wooden teeth into the warm flesh of the creature. But just as Warden's throw was off the mark, so was Fangs pounce at the end of his charge. Landing just a tiny bit too short, Fangs teeth only brush against the fur of the wolf, failing to inflict damage on the creature, but most definitely drawing attention.
Without hesitation, Droviz draws his chakram and sends it screaming ahead of him into battle -- aimed at one of the wolves biting at the poor boy. Once his ranged weapon is discharged, the Drow grimly draws his cold iron longsword....
Angry, desperate and fearful, Havelock doesn't care at the moment, he merely wants to save the boy, and the best way might be to give the wolves another target.
As such, he moves forward, getting into the very faces of the wolves, brandishing his hand and a half sword and making a high-pitched avian cry of anger at them.
Droviz doesn't notice any other immediate threats in the area. His chakram sprays wolf's blood across the white snow seconds before Krystae's arrow finds perch in the hide of another.
The white coats of the wolves and their apparent resistance to the cold mark these as boreal wolves. Their bite carries the chill of death while fire burns them twice still.
Ragnar moved forward as fast as he could, yanking a hand axe from his belt and hurling it as he neared the group of wolves.
The body of the young boy falls into the blood red snow as the wolves turn their attention towards the recent arrivals. Whether it was the giant crow-like man or the strange shrub-like wolf was hard to tell, but the results were immediate and absolute. The wolves were not ready for the confrontation and their bites could find no new flesh to rip.
Warden moves around the tree, into a position letting it flank the outermost wolf, stabbing at it to distract it.
Fang does not let the opening go to waste, and enters a frenzy as he attempts to bite the surrounded wolf, it's powerful jaws snapping shut on the creatures neck.
Droviz draws his cold iron longsword, unslings his shield and charges forward. As the masked warrior runs, his sword develops an odd lustre.
Ragnar drove his spear home with a bellow!
The wolves were in the way! If they did not want to move, they would have to be moved, in pieces if necessary!
Frustrated, the angry Tengu strikes out at the wolf right in front of him.
The wolves drop one by one, from tooth, arrow, and spear. The boy's color quickly fades as his blood continues to stain the snow. His shallow breaths can be easily seen in the cold air, but with every passing second, his chest rises less and less.
Nadya dashes through the snow over to her fallen son, dropping to her knees next to him. She grabs the boy and pulls him close, tears streaming down her face as she whispers prayers to any god that will listen.
"Please, can you help him?" she begs.
Ragnar dropped into the snow to his knees, quickly laying a hand on the boy's chest.
"It seems with Ragnars help, this one of your young ones will survive."
Checking one of it's pouches, Warden holds out some goodberrys: "If you are still in pain, eat some, they will help you heal."
Warden then proceeds to pick up one of the wolves and places it on Fang, then takes another itself. Clearly, the tasty meat should not go to waste, and the furs had their uses, as well.
The Tengu begins to look around, scratching the back of his head in confusion.
"I...I am sorry, but this scenario does not make sense to me.
Was he lured out here somehow?"
Ragnar picked put he boy and handed him to Drovitz. "Drovitz carry. Boy is light."
He looped his rope around the necks of the wolves and hefted them like a string of fish on a line. "Good meat." he said, by way of explanation.
Then started moving back to camp as fast as he could though the snow dragging the wolves behind him.
"Yeh, arright," Droviz agrees, taking the boy's weight without noticeable effort. "Let's hustle back to camp, folks. Feeling a bit exposed out here."
As the boy's wounds close, Nadya becomes hysterical with joy. She can't restrain herself and before she knows it she is hugging Ragnar. The embrace is brief and she soon switches to her hugging Orn before Ragnar whisks him away and passes him to Droviz. Before she fully realizes what is happening, the entourage is hustling back towards camp, Nadya chasing after Droviz and Orn.
The group bursts through the tree line and erupts into the middle of the camp to find it exactly how they left it. Finally feeling some what secure, Nadya takes the time to question Orn.
The boy bashfully admits to wandering off on his own. "I'm sorry momma, I just wanted to find some fire wood. I was cold, and I knew you would be busy and I wanted to help out. You always say we gotta help each other and I wanted to help. I'm sorry" he says shyly.
Nadya can't do anything but hold Orn close as she calls his brother over. She grabs both boys in an enormous bear hug and quietly holds them tight. The boys start coughing "momma, we can't breathe." Nadya loosens her grip but doesn't break it.
"Will you skin them and bleed them out?", Warden asks of Ragnar, when it and Fang dump the wolves they carried with Ragnars own: "Some of their blood would would add a welcome flavoring to our usual diet, if you'd care to save a bowl for us."
Droviz approaches the family huddle, and lightly taps Orn on the shoulder.
"Yer heart was in the right place, kid," he says, "but let Uncle Droviz give you a word of advice: when in hostile territory, never go off alone. Or at least let folks know you're going off alone, but that only applies to the scout. You hear me, now. Don't want to give yer Mum any more scares an' sorrows, arright?"
The previously depressed Tengu finds his eyes softening a little at the mothers obvious joy.
For the first time in what felt like forever, something had gone right.
Poor woman, she has paid enough, but at least THIS time we were in time.
A little embarrassed to see such displays of affection, he then moves over to Ragnar.
"Hmmmm, skinning, it could mean a cloak no? A cloak of winterwolf fur sounds like quite a luxury."
"I can. Four wolves. Two cloaks. One for each. Will take time." Ragnar said with a small, rare smile.
He hoisted the wolves one by one over a barren tree branch, put buckets beneath and drained their blood. "Warden, you take all you want. You want fresh, or made to pudding?" he asked to their newest companion.
The canine shrubbery sniffs, calmly laying down next to one of the buckets, watching the blood drip down.
"Fresh is preferable.", Warden answers briefly, suggesting a moment later: "I could help with the skinning."
Ragnar nodded and handed Warden a skinning knife made of obsidian and bone. It looked like it had been made at the dawn of time.