"What we've seen is many dead men, laid low in the fresh snow. Hunter, rider, warrior alike... But that is nothing new. The winter claims many." the Halfhand shrugs, eyes scanning the snowstorm. "Why is it you ask? Were they a comrade of yours?"
The forlarren smiles with slightly downcast eyes "Comrade of mine no... but an ally once perhaps as the oxen does with a farmer by yoke."
Bastagar, not liking what he's hearing, snarls and retreats back into his pile of furs.
"Death alone
stalks sandy dunes,
slaying Spring's new life
denying Winter's repose,
with naught but lifeless ruins."
Allowing the forlarren to change the subject, Hilde sets her anger aside.
"Which the master
and which the slave,
twixt man and winter fey?
Side by side when fighting now,
to put us all in snowy grave."
The forlarren's voice stiffens slightly as she muses "An answer was sought, but only questions given... if the words are spent and there is not even attempt to sway, I'll enjoy the warmth and shelter in silence."
"Silence is always welcome." Cearb sits in his Yeti furs sharpening one of many blades. He is content to let the bigguns have their words.
"Answers enough
have we shared with thee,
our origins, our struggle,
all plain for you to see.
Respond in kind
if thou seekest more,
your origin, your struggle.
For common ground, let us explore."
"I think I've heard enough as well." The Halfhand says, though even as he moves to find a warmer spot, he keeps the forlarren in the corner of his eye.
The forlarren regards Hilde's last words with merely a half-smirk, and sits in silence. Nadya sees it and you all furnished with a stout stew and black tea if you wish for it, and the rest of the storm is endured in uneasy silence.
When the storm's peak has passed, the forlarren stands and gives a slight bow. First to Nadya and then to you all "Your blessing was offered and received in peace, but now I will take my leave." pausing slightly before adding "May winter's blessing be upon you" and turning to exit the tent.
Hilde nods as the forlarren turns to leave the tent. Her eyes flash briefly as the fiend lifts the tent flap.
Turning to the human workers, the paladin attempts to smooth over the awkward night.
"My apologies to thee,
who welcomed us in from the cold.
Discomfort have we brought thee,
in facing an enemy of old.
Snjorrin shakes his head ruefully once the creature has safely departed, before turning to address Hilde.
"This one notes that you should be more circumspect in the future, and more reluctant to share information. This one does not doubt that there are those in the area who would be greatly interested in learning about you and your band, and this one is sure that they will know before the sun rises tomorrow morning... Be careful!"
"The storm passed, we should be moving too then, lest they find us too easily. With hospitality spent, perhaps he should beware to cross us up on the trail too. Cearb spends a conspicuous moment to resheath his collection of sharpened knives in boots, belt, and bag.
"Let us greet the sun,
with sweat from our brow.
Let us meet the road,
as the day dost allow."
Hilde begins breaking down the tent and helping the humans with their morning chores. As the Irrisen make porridge for breakfast, she shares dried berries from her trail rations. When all is finished, she prepares to set out with the young human woman.
Later, once on the trail, alone to Snjorinn:
"My birthright is clear
to any with eyes,
Nor is the Kinwar
known just to the wise.
Snjorrin shrugs.
"This one suggests that you may wish to learn how to hide your birthright, then, or avoid all major population centers; otherwise, it is liable to get you killed, or worse... Those of your kind tend not to have a long life expectancy in this land."
Bastagar gnashes his teeth, snarling at the newcomer from behind Hilde's cloak. "Does the horned one threaten Bastagar?"
Kelgar mumbles something in dwarvish under his beard as the forlarren exits the tent.
Bringing himself back to his feet, he lumbers to the exit and peeks out after the fey, trying to gauge the general direction of its departure.
The Halfhand spends some time writing in his journal after the Forlarren leaves, detailing its appearance within the pages of his research notes before drifting into an almost catatonic state of half-sleep.
Ormr rests on his chests as the wizard lays semi-recumbant, rousing him from his stupor with a sharp nip as the others begin preparations to move out.
Kelgar finds his glance without frustrated by the screening sleet and snow that continues to fall.
Riding out the rest of the storm, Nadya accepts what help you offer with genuine gratitude... though you can sense that something troubles her. As camp is almost broken she speaks to you all "It is clear outlanders that you mean ill to the witches that rule this land... and in this I would still hope to offer what help I may. Are you still inclined to join me to my home?"
Snjorrin shakes his head at Bastagar.
"This one means you no harm, and was definitely not making a threat; this one was simply stating fact. Life in this land tends to be short, sharp, and brutal, especially for those who oppose, or draw the attention of, the Jadwiga and their servants."
When Nadya makes her offer, Snjorrin remains silent, awaiting the response of the rest of the group.
The Halfhand stares towards the small town on the horizon as Nadya speaks. His expression is blank, brow furrowed as if searching for something in the distance.
"You are brave." the Halfhand says, turning towards her. "... To make such an offer. You risk much for a stranger. If indeed we were enemies of the White Queen... Why would would you aid us?"
Hilde acknowledges Snjorrin's words but shrugs in response, not knowing how to mask her appearance. That she is fey and not elven is certainly clear enough as is the fact that she is Summer and not Winter fey. Nor are disguises available for the gnomes, although Bastagar might pass as Winter if he was inclined to try.
Asking the Puck for something was definitely a double-edged sword however, especially if the goal was to avoid trouble. 8)
Standing beside the Halfhand later, she notes his question and waits to hear the response. Since the trial of the oaths earlier, she considers the fight against the witches to be their saga, with her in support. Yes, the winter fey are her enemies and yes, the witches as well. However, it seems only fitting that those who took the oath take the lead.
Speaking plainly "I have no love for the white witches... because of them I am widowed, and because of Nazhena Vasilliovna of the Pale Tower only two of my three children are in my home. The supplies on these sleds will buy my flaxen haired daughter back to me."
"Do not think me a fool, I will not risk my kin... but I will not pass up an opportunity so fortuitous."
The Halfhand is silent for a moment.
"... I see." He offers no condolences. If this husk of a man felt any pity or sympathy for her plight, his hollow eyes did not show show it. "Then it is settled. To find an ally here in this land is unexpected... but not unwelcome. We are in your care, Nadya."
He holds out a gloved hand towards her, to shake.
Kelgar's attention is drawn to the woman's words and her mention of lost children.
"Aye, if ye've lost a child and th' tower is t' blame - then ah'll say we'll do our best t' set 't straight."
Kelgar likewise accepts .
Hilde nods and smiles, pleased that their first mission on this new path should be such a noble one.
She is ready to leave once the tent is stowed and the humans ready to head out. Once again, she will offer to carry Bastagar on her shoulders while Cearb rides his dog.
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Cearb ears go up, and he smiles as he comes to a rest upon the dog's back, "Ah, rescue a child, it is good we came upon you, that is something I have experience with..." Then his smile fades a bit and he looks momentarily confused before continuing more brightly again, "...sort of the same...reversed a bit, I guess...but if the Witches have them, we can help see them free, I am sure they make very neglectful mothers, seem to lose their sons a lot, never hear of man-witches..." Not sure anyone is listening or paying attention the rest of Cearb's prattle is lost as he pulls up his yeti hood, which swallows up his head and his voice, but by the way the yeti head bobs, it is clear he is still continuing his one-sided conversation.
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"Musn't say 'witches' aloud in this land. Bad luck it is, bad luck and ill fortune." Bastagar spits, hobbling alongside Caerb. He covers his mouth in fright as he notices that he has done that very thing, knocking his staff on a nearby trunk three times before clambering onto Hilde's shoulder. From atop his perch, he gives Caerb a knowing look. "... and we thinks the winter-queens eats their sons. Cook them in a pot and gobble them up." the gnome says, a little too cheerily.
He turns to Nadya. "Musn't worry. Sled-dog-woman has daughter. Won't be cooked up in a pot. Bastagar too has... rescued a child before. Musn't worry."
Nadya accepts Halfhand's offer of a shaken hand, before turning back to her sledders and seeing them through the last throes of preparation before the final run to Waldsby. When time comes to set off, she takes you on a circuitous route around the town - coming upon the town from the East and leading you to a cabin that sits on the outskirts of the town proper.
Once you arrive, the sledders see the dogs unhitched, brushed down, fed and watered and then put to a kennel that adjoins the cabin. As they undergo their work, Nadya beckons you to follow her into the house proper.
Following Nadya into her home, you are witness to a pair of twin five year old boys barrelling out to engulf the woman in a welcoming embrace. She laughs "Easy Orm and Mjoli, easy. Today we have guests... to your rooms, I will be with you soon." ushering the wide eyed boys out of the common room and into their bedroom.
She shucks off her furs and looks to stoking the small fire burning as she speaks "First you should shed your furs... they too easily name you as outsiders. I have some old coats that should serve... Waldsby is to our West and the Pale Tower beyond that."
Bastagar scurries to the doorstep, ahead of the others. He notes an iron horseshoe over the door, gingerly lifting it off it's hook with the tip of his shillelagh and flinging it into the trees. His haste does not carry him across the threshhold of the door however, until Nadya beckons him inside. His pale eyes follow the twin boys up the stairs and into their rooms, a strangely curious look on his face.
He warms his gnarled fingers, red raw from the storm, by the fireside, wimpering slightly as he tries to massage some life back into them. Despite the warmth of the hearth, he shudders involuntarily at the mention of the Pale Tower.
Once to the cottage, she joins Bastagar in waiting for an invitation. Upon entering the cottage, she calls out,
"In this home, should faeries stray,
hand in hand, with fairy grace,
from the dusk 'til the break of day,
sing and dance and bless this place."
Nadya responds to Hilde "I do not know her by name, but merely by sight. She moves through the wild, her eyes those of the Pale Tower and acting with their will."
___________________________
Hilde's blessing upon the house draws attention away from Bastagar's superstitious machinations and draws a smile and nodded thanks from Nadya. She bids you "Please, sit... I will see to my boys first and then be back."
Looking around you note other things that would slip the mind of those not already inured to your world. Dishes and plates arranged just so, colours in line... the house is overseen by a fae of some kind.
Snjorrin watches impassively as the group changes the garments they are clad in.
The speech patterns of those ones will still mark them as Outlanders, but at least a casual glance will no longer betray them...
He carefully finds a corner to sit in, and sits down, watching as things unfold...
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Cearb nudges Bastagar and whispers, "Psst, a house sidhe is about, Brownie or Buttery by the looks of it." He pulls off his red cap and makes a few motions to smooth the tangles and twigs of his hair. He shrugs, "Just in case shes pretty"
Cearb looks about, but apart from the tell tales he noticed - he cannot see hide nor hair of the house sidhe.
The Halfhand sheds his overcoat, much unneeded behind his arcane veil, and folds it over his runed targe. Without it, he looks very much the part of the hunter, clad in rough leathers and dotted with scars.
Ormr scurries out from his pocket, resting on the wizard's shoulder. He sniffs the air curiously, chittering into the wizards ear.
"Here?" The Halfhand finds himself patting the blade of his cold iron knife instinctively, as his dark eyes make a small appraisal of the room, trying to pick out which of the blinking eyes in the shadows might be real.
"Shh... Quiet, little one. They will hear you. They will hear."
Bastagar lets out a wicked grin as he notes The Halfhand's discomfort. "See how it trembles at the shadows..." he says, trailing into Sylvan and cackling. "Lig dúinn a thabhairt dó rud éigin a léim ag ... guthanna fairie déanta as aer, fuaimeanna tricksy nach bhfuil ann ..."
fairie voices made from air,/tricksy sounds that are not there...
Suddenly, chittering voices begin to echo from atop the high shelves and under cupboards, whispering cruel threats at the Halfhand and his pet.
"Do you hear that?" The Halfhand hisses to the others. "More faerie trickery at work, to be sure..."
Ormr hisses at the sounds, fur standing on end, and scrambles violently up the wizard's face. The Halfhand responds in kind with a tirade of infernal curses as he pries the frantic weasel from his face and stuffs it unceremoniously into his pack.
"Damnable creature!" he snarls, holding the bag closed as it jostles around in his arms. "You'll stay there 'til you're sensible!"
Hilde hears the voices from the shadowed cupboards and shelves, as well as Bastagar's spell, understanding the tie between the two.
Slipping over to Nadya, her back to The Halfhand, she winks to the young woman with a smile and raised finger to pursed lips.
"A faerie be present,
for here the wards be set,
it seems they recognize the shadow,
that we bear but would forget."
Drawing a fine steel dagger, she carefully examines the kitchen's nooks and crannies for their fae foe. Quietly, faking a whisper not meant to be heard, she says,
"Fear not, fair wee one,
just keep this shadow in your sight.
I will guard the bairns today,
so you can take the half-man,
in his sleep tonight."
Kelgar shuffles into the cabin and reluctantly parts with his overcoat before his eyes widen, his jaw drops and he scrambles like a child on a holiday eve to the fireside. Just as he is about to take the closest seat, he hesitates as the children rush past to greet Nadya.
His eyes, buried deep in his face beyond ruddy cheeks, again buried beyond a mass of fur, wet themselves, as memories of his own children dance in his mind.
Still gazing into the distance, he finally *plops* into a chair and pays little attention to the sounds about and allows the warmth and fond memories to return him home for a lone evening.
Bastagar cackles gleefully at the weasel's distress, pleased with what he sees as a job well done. He shakes off his filthy furs, and with it several items roll across the floor: a ball of twine, a pouch of what seem to be animal bones, the last of the days-old chicken from Heldren, Caerb's whetstone, Kelgar's smoking pouch and the Halfhand's hunting knife. Freezing in place, Bastagar stiffly walks away from the scene of the crime, his attempts to act natural making him seem more akin to a wooden windup doll.
He gleefully picks up the ill-fitting coat in his hands, marvelling at the frayed, patchy surface as one might the finest velvet. He pulls it over his head, his wirebrush hair even more disheveled than usual. The coat drags along the ground as he fumbles with the sleeves, which hang several inches too long. If anything, the gnome is more likely to draw stares.
Hilde's words and search do not turn up any further evidence or presence of the house sidhe, but your knowledge that it is there is reinforced. You know that many of your kind have the talent to fade from sight, and you wager that the fae is content to observe for now.
Nadya spends a good span of minutes with her twins before rejoining you in the common area of her house. She notes the recumbence of Kelgar as well as the comical nature of the be-furred Bastagar in equal measure and without overt mirth taking at the least. She fires her stove and sets water upon it, fragrant leaves nearby with the intent to brew a restorative liquor of tea.
Hilde's mention of the fae gives her a slight pause before she seems to make a mental resolution and haltingly responds "His name is Hatch... I found him in the snow near death and near to the Pale tower. After his strength was restored we do not see him much... but he is here."
Snjorrin listens to the woman's words, before nodding in understanding.
"One who has suffered at the hands of Winter is unlikely to ever be its friend. He should be safe enough."
He then turns to the others.
"With the threat of death by freezing temporarilty forestalled, there is a chance to plan. What is to be done?"
"Thy have the goods
the weregild can ye pay.
I'd not risk thy future
if here you plan to stay.
When payment's taken
perhaps we can attend
and once thy family's clear
foul villains meet their end."
Additionally, per Hilde's search with the dagger, she was playing off Bastagar's joke at The Halfhand. She was pretending to look for the faerie while also pretending to secretly tell it that it should take the human in his sleep. Perhaps that didn't come across so well as most of the party ignored the joke and The Halfhand did not respond. Hilde was not really looking for Hatch and figures he'll come out when he's ready.
"There is no surprise. Voyeurism is what faeries do best." The Halfhand scowls as the others continue to make jabs at him, folding his arms in tight. "Always watching with hungry eyes."
Snjorinn's interjection brings him relief however, as they return to planning.
"When we go, we go as one. Our numbers are few as it is... And if this tower is as of great import as we have been led to believe, it's not likely it would be only lightly guarded." The Halfhand glances over his companions. "As much as I hate to announce our presence in these lands so early, there is much to be known there."