Warden still gazed up at the sky, looking for whatever it was supposed to see there.
Despite Krystae's frantic efforts, the Witch Guard does not regain consciousness. Nadya slowly approaches, kneeling down to put her arms around Krystae. "I understand the pain you feel, but there is nothing more than can be done here. We must press on before others come."
Meanwhile, hundreds of feet above, a lone bird circles high above.
It's hours and miles later when one of the boys collapses into the snow. Nadya quickly rushes to his side to see him thankfully, only exhausted from the march. She picks him up to carry him onward and begins to look around. She nods off to the distance where a lone plume of white smoke can be see above the treeline. The sun has already dipped below the trees and the light of day won't last much longer.
"There. Hopefully we can find shelter there."
The temperature seems to be dropping even more so than expected for nightfall. Snow, ice and hail are coming by morning.
"There'd better be," Droviz says as he raises his masked face to the sky and sniffs. "Bad weather's a-comin'. Snow, ice and hail by morning .... and that bloody bird is still up there. This may not be natural weather."
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Krystae stares at the dead man, unaware of Nadya's approach until the sudden embrace. She gives a start and turns, barely hearing the woman's kind words. "Yes, we should get moving." She says stiffly and takes a moment to retrieve her daggers, washing it and her hands off in the snow.
The rest of their journey, Krystae is silent and distracted; lost in the torrent of thoughts running through her mind. 'Mother? Sister? Was he implying that my mother is this Witch we are seeking to destroy? Or another witch in her employ? Why did father not tell me any of this? Why did he hide that I have a sister? What does he have to do with all of this?!'
In time, Droviz draws near to Krystae.
"I'm pro'lly not the one to talk to about family woes," he says, conversationally. "My people.... Drow kill their own kin without hesitation, if they see the benefit or just because great-auntie Kelzenza snubbed cousin Zefnakil's prize-winning dumplings at the family reunion once too often."
Droviz looks at the sky, sighs, and shakes his head.
"Damn shame, that. Auntie Kelz' damn near gutted cousin Zef' with her bare hands for trying to knife her, and afterward we couldn't find where he hid the recipe - if he ever did write it down; he weren't a man for letters, just a great cook. I do miss those dumplings. My Mum poisoned auntie Kelz' at the next reunion for losing us that dish. Of course she was too ornery to die, but she lost some teeth.
So anyway, like I said, I'm not the best one to talk to. But I do know that if an enemy sticks in a knife, you need to pull it out and clean the wound so it can't fester. Talk to someone, Stormcrow. I can see it start to fester in yer soul. That's no good."
Hmmph, might not be the best one to talk to indeed!
Not that this insight stops him from talking anyway I noticed...
The silent snark manages to cheer the Tengus flagging spirit somewhat, and he picks up the pace just a little.
"His people seem to have an admirable desire to weed out the weak and let the smart and strong thrive. It's like the species is socially embracing the concept of evolution and trying to further it. Fascinating.", Warden comments towards Havelock and Ragnar, after listening to what Droviz had to say. Looking at Havelock, it continues:"Does your species also have such admirable customs? I do apologize, but all that I should remember is only...barely there, and I fear there are many questions without answers in my mind."
When one of Nadya's boys collapses and she intends to lift him, Fang moves up, nudging her leg with a muzzle of roots, thorns and branches still red with dried blood, then submissively ducks to the ground, presenting it's back, a part of it smooth as a saddle.
"Not admirable. Cruel. People are not animals. Should not act like them." Ragnar rumbled.
"That distinction is one made by people, not by nature. The same principles apply, those who are smarter, stronger and faster outlast those who are not, no matter the species or social foundation.", Warden replied in an almost pouty way, but did seem willing to let it go. It had it's convictions, but Warden was keenly aware that it did not know all about this world it should have known. The awakening had been...hazy- and the lack of understanding had caused the trouble of getting captured in the first place.
"That's why my people might say they do it, but me, I think it's cause society back home rewards the nasty and the b%!##%# crazy. It's no good for us. The folks in charge are off their rocker and everyone else suffers for it."
"Hmmph, Tengu mostly inhabit the lower social strata, making nests in the poor parts of cities.
We have a reputation for being thieves and scavengers, so naturally that is often the only avenues available for us.
But as we do not originally hail from Avista, this is a label we've originally been given by ignorant people."
"Tengu are naturally gifted with languages, and it is rare to find one that does not speak six languages or more.
And we are taught swordplay from the moment we are strong enough to carry a blade."
"Because of the prejudices against us, we tend to have a close knit community, where we see to the policing of our own.
We rarely trusts outsiders to give us a fair trial..."
"Yes. The distinction is made by people. That is how we measure right and wrong. Nature may not care, but we do. We must. Without that, we have no hope." Ragnar said slowly.
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Initially Krystae says nothing, leaving the others to their philosophical discussion, but her mind whirled with more and more negative thoughts, so much like the raging blizzard around them. Finally she could not hold it in any longer. She looks at Droviz. "Talk about what, Droviz?" She says bitterly. "Should I talk about how everything that I thought I knew about my life was a lie? Or perhaps that I was deceiving myself about it? I always knew something odd was going on around me and yet I didn't have the wits to unravel it before it was too late. First my step-mother dies from some unnatural wasting illness, that was clearly a hex put upon her by this Witch that man truly believed was my mother. She must be the same one who took my father all those years ago. Why did she not take me as well? Did she not I existed before now? Also I find out I have a sister that's involved in this horrible plot to bring everlasting winter to the world. What... I... I don't even know where to begin to even understand how to feel about all this! Hells, for I know this is some rouse by our enemies to confuse me and try to sow discord against me!" She angrily kicks the snow. "I was too brutal in my questioning. I should've known better than the push the line that far, but his conviction..."
"I feel like I'm going mad. I need more answers. We need more prisoners."
"Purpose given is not purpose chosen." Ragnar repeated softly. "You are not a slave to destiny. Or blood. Who your parents are does not matter. Only choices do."
"Do your questions change who you wish to be?"
"Yeah," Droviz says. "That. Ye should talk about that, Stormcrow. So. What were yer Dad and Stepmum like?"
"Yes. The distinction is made by people. That is how we measure right and wrong. Nature may not care, but we do. We must. Without that, we have no hope." Ragnar said slowly.
"That depends what you hope for. Nature is cruel, indeed. But full of purpose. Without rights and wrongs."
Having listened to Havelocks description of his species customs, Warden had quite a bit to contemplate. When Krystae spoke out in response to Droviz, it opted not to re-join the conversation...this seemed emotional, and unaligned views and emotional instability did not mesh well.
Most probably, she needed time to calm down. Or keep talking...to friends. Not having known her long, Warden was only capable of offering the former, by leaving her alone for now.
"Not at all, nature is most fair.
There can be no cruelty without PURPOSE.
To survive in nature, all you need to be is swift, or strong, or tough or smart.
As long as you have even ONE skill, nature will give you a chance.
Nature and Pharasma are the only judges with no bias AT ALL."
"With respect, Watcher, your Pharasma is biased." Ragnar shook his head, using the new words carefully. "She judges all who suffer undeath to be abominations. Fit for being destroyed, no matter the good they do, or if they are victims themselves."
"Warden says nature is full of purpose, and is cruel. You say nature cannot be cruel because it is without purpose. Which is it?"
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Krystae stares at Ragnar for a moment. "No, I suppose not, but this became absurdly more complicated! If she is my mother, how am I supposed to just kill her? Matricide is not something that is generally looked upon with pleasantries." She rubs her face with her hands. "And what if blood does have something to do with my tendencies? I have heard of people whose bloodline affects them in very strange ways, even granting their magical powers. I saw the disapproving looks you all had with the way I dealt with that prisoner... I essentially murdered him. And yet, all I can seem to care about is the fact that I do not have access to more answers. Shouldn't I feel some remorse? Because I don't." She sighs angrily, looking very much like she is struggling to maintain her facade of control that is normally so prevalent. "Perhaps its like you said, Ragnar. It's all about choices. That man made his choice to join the side of a monster that readily murders children..." She trails off as she suddenly remembers that the mother and family of that murdered child was walking with them.
She takes that opportunity to direct her attention to Droviz. "I honestly don't remember much of my step-mom, just a few random memories, but I recall that she was very lovely. My father always made sure I knew she was not my real mother, but she never seemed to love me any less for it." She smiles at the fond memories. "She died when I was only seven and I remember that it broke my father's heart. It was shortly after that we moved to Heldren... He must've been trying to hide me from her." She closes her eyes at the sudden revelation. It was all starting to finally come together. "Father was a kind man, but he was tough and always insisted on being self-reliant. He taught me about the White Witches and Irrisen, but it was always more of a boogieman story to me until he went missing. That was the day I found the crow feather. My training as a Witch Hunter. The tome I found there. It all has lead to this..." Her hand brushes against the feather. "And you say there is no fate, Ragnar?"
"Either there is or there ain't, and either way, here we are," Droviz says to the question of fate. "Makes no nevermind. It's too big for my head, and you can go nuts trying to squeeze it in.
Anyhoo. Sounds like you should worry a bit less about blood. You had a Mum and Dad who loved ya and brought you up so's you could handle the world. Giving birth to you's a big thing, but bringing you up right? That's bigger. Lizards gives life to young, but they just hides their eggs an' move on without giving them a lick of raising.
When it comes ta meeting the witch who's supposed ta have given ya birth, Stormcrow, remember: you've got a lot of toughs with ya to do the chopping if'n it comes to it."
"You misunderstand. There is destiny. It is real. All things are part of it. It is called the Wyrd, the great tapestry. We are all just threads."
"Unchallenged, it pushes us all toward death on a road we cannot see."
"So we fight. We do not accept. We forge our own way. Take our thread to other places. Cause snarls in the weave."
"You have destiny. The part most do not realize is that destiny does not care about you. You are it's slave. Nothing more. Unless you fight it. Be something different then you were meant to be."
"This is why prophesies are evil things. They turn people into tools. Destiny is your life when you cannot choose anything else."
"We have all chosen something else."
"Drovitz was supposed to be a sword in the dark. Instead he is a shield in sunlight"
"Watcher Havelock was supposed to be a sage of cold intellect. Instead he is a warrior of fire and passion."
"Warden was supposed to guard the natural world. Instead she saves children from it."
"I was supposed to be a king. Instead I am a shepherd."
"You were supposed to be a witch. Instead you hunt them."
"None of us are what destiny intended. That is why we suffer. Threads out of place are not treated kindly by the weaver.
"If memory serves, weavers get a lot less stroppy if you threaten to break another -- to break a knuckle or two," Droviz offers.
"Look, everyone.
This is fast getting overly complicated and slightly out of hand.
One important thing to remember however is that none of us have proof for what we say or think.
Without proof we will not be able to sway any of the rest to our way of thinking.
I know I will not be swayed by words alone.
So let us forget the spiritual, ethical, philosophical and intellectual discussion at least for now and focus what is here and now.
And right now, we should focus on getting some rest, because we need to be off early in the morning."
Less than a mile later, the group comes upon a rough wooden cabin standing just inside the wood. There is no sign of activity around the cabin, but smoke rises from the chimney.
A strikingly beautiful, red-haired woman in a hooded coat comes out of the cabin with her arm up and waving in greeting.
"Hello. I am Sylgja. You look tired and I would offer you lodging, but I fear my husband is missing, taken deeper into the woods by a moss troll that lairs in a nearby cave. If you are brave enough to go after him, I would be most grateful. Please, won't you help my husband?"
Ragnar stopped and waited for the scouts to check things out.
Droviz casts his magic-detecting gaze on the place as the group approaches, his fingers subtly clenching his quarterstaff.
Droviz picks up no signs of any magical auras until a strikingly beautiful, red-haired woman in a hooded coat comes out of the cabin with her arm up and waving in greeting. A few faint magical auras of varying colors highlight her appearance to Droviz's eyes.
"Hello. I am Sylgja. You look tired and I would offer you lodging, but I fear my husband is missing, taken deeper into the woods by a moss troll that lairs in a nearby cave. If you are brave enough to go after him, I would be most grateful. Please, help my husband and I would do anything in my power to assist you."
Before she's even done talking Droviz has counted two faint magical auras on her person that seem to be coming from items. The first is fairly obvious as the dagger on her hip glows faintly. The other aura is harder to tell, but glows faintly as the suppressed light barely escapes the pouch opposite the dagger.
It's harder to see why and even harder to explain, but Sylgia is not human.
Droviz cocks his head at Sylgia.
"Got no problem with helping out someone in need fer hospitality, but I'm surprised you din't go after him yerself, missus," he says. "I see magic in yer knife, some other spellery in yer pouch .... an' I dunno what it is, but ye're not human, is ye? Takes one to know one."
The Drow sounds friendly enough and is not immediately hostile, but he is ready for treachery.
Unable to spot whatever it is Droviz noticed, Havelock tenses up a bit, wondering if they are encountering another malevolent fey or something of that nature.
At the moment he was also quite irritated and tired, so speaking up now would, most likely make him even MORE acerbic.
Hardly grounds for good diplomacy.
Ragnar looked at the woman, and then at the skeletal ranger next to him, then back to the woman.
Her reaction to their group seemed very strange indeed. Something was not right.
"Droviz is right. You seem human, yet are not. We are a varied group ourselves, there is no need for a glamour.", Warden adds in a friendly tone, at the same time subtly directing Fang into a position on the other side of the group.
The one before them might have had something to hide, and might not be inclined to share that something with nosy outsiders. It could also be an elaborate trap, a set-up, to lure them into the woods. Warden was suspicious, and ready to react if things went hostile.
Ignoring the obvious questions, the woman continues on. "Please, you must help my husband. Take my dagger...and my pouch. Take it all" she says. "Just please, help my husband." She drops down into the snow onto her knees, slipping the dagger out of the sheath and tossing into the snow a few feet in front of her.
"I care not who or what you are. Only that you help my husband." Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she continues "why should it matter what I am?"
Warden walks up, curiously eyeing the pouch:"You misunderstand. Droviz and I were trying to tell you it does not matter what you are. That there is no need to pretend. You seem genuinely worried, and while I can't speak for all of us, I would be willing to retrieve your husband."
Ragnar lifted his dragonskin eyepatch for a moment. A small spark of ghost light floated in the darkness of the hollow socket.
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Krystae continues to watch the woman with open suspicion, but realizes they are not likely to find better lodging before the storm strikes. "Sylgja, if we do as you ask, will you keep your word of safe refuge to ride of this coming storm?"
She looks at her companions. "I see no other choice, but to help this woman. If she is lying, then she is very good. The child needs a warm place to recover his strength." She turns back to Sylgja. "Our guide has brought along her children, but they are weak and need of warmth. While we seek our this troll, can our guide and her children seek the shelter of your home?"
"What? You would do this? Of course! Leave the little darlings here, by all means. I can take you to the cave where I last saw the moss troll. They should be perfectly safe and comfortable. It's not much, but it's cozy and you're welcome to anything. Please" she asks, still on her knees, but now with hope in her eyes.
"Stay with them. Protect them from harm." Ragnar said to the skeletal ranger.
Hmmm, I am not sure I trust this woman yet...
Krystae and Ragnar seems to trust enough to take her offer.
Ah, but they are human, a naive race. Lucky for them that I am here.
"Hrm. Arright. But mind me, we care about these young'uns," Droviz says.
There is no outright threat in his words, but there is a note of warning.
"Surely there is no cause for concern arising from a lack of trust, since Sylgia is coming with us to guide us while Nadya and her offspring rest. If she shows us the place, it would be thoughtless to let her wander off alone - we could end up rescuing her husband while she gets taken by a different troll. Nobody wants that.", Warden shakes it's head, calling Fang back to it's side.
Opening it's palm, focusing on it, suddenly 4 nuts grow at a rapid pace. When they are ripe, Warden closes it's hand, then holds it over Nadyas to let them fall down into hers:"These will help your boys. Nature provides."
Nature provides to the strong, in some ways I would say we are going AGAINST nature really...
Stroking his beak, the Tengu ponders the philosophy for a moment, unsure of from which part of his splintered psyche that thought originated from.
Nadya nodded as she took her boys inside the cabin. "Come now, inside."
Sylgja stood up and dusted off her clothes and wiped the tears from her face. "This way" she said as started heading off away from the cabin, heading deeper into the woods. It's a short walk before the forest gives way to a clearing, about half a mile.
The moon hanging in the sky lights up the forest as the snow refracts the light all around.
"There" she said, pointing to a lone cave in the side of one of the smaller mountains, a hundred feet across the clearing.
"That's the last time I saw him" she said as she started choking up again. Even from this distance, tracks outside of the cave are obvious through the snow.
The tracks are of a medium sized humanoid.
Moss trolls are typically large standing close to 9 feet tall and weighing in over 500 pounds.
Ragnar glanced at the ground. "Troll. How big is it?" he asked the woman.
Droviz edges up to Krystae and whispers to her: "I dunno from trolls, but what went in there's the size'a man. This is startin' ta smell like a setup."
"Uh, big? He looked bigger than you" she said as she looked up at Ragnar.
"When I saw it, I hid. I didn't try to get close. I was terrified."