Pems smiles when Mal mentions his hat. He nods politely to the big man. In his various languages (Common, Halfling, Dwarven, Elven, Skald) he greets the man. "Hello! We seem to have arrived here. We're supposed to be finding the Baba Yaga."
The man spins, looking startled to see you all.
"Ho, obcy," he calls out. "Jestem Ratibor Chrobrego, związany służyć Baba Jaga i ten straży chatę ze wszystkich intruzów. Kim jesteś i jak tu przybyłeś?"
"Ho, strangers. I am Ratibor the Bold, bound to serve Baba Yaga and guard this hut from all intruders. Who are you and how did you come here?"
He looks up, clearly expecting a response. When none seems to be forthcoming, he repeats himself, this time in Draconic.
"הו, זרים. אני Ratibor אמיץ, חייב למסור באבא יאגה ובקתת השומר הזה מכל הפולשים. מי אתה ואיך הגיע לכאן?"
Hektir listens and waits, wondering what is going on.
Quinn hides behind Hektr and listens to strange languages while waiting, "What are they saying?" Sure that Pems can be convincing, or at least communicate, Quinn grants him the guidance of Cayden.
"Oh! Well, isn't this a treat? You know the old language of the dragons! What a delightful surprise. Pleased to meet you. At least I think I am. You're not going to try and gore poor Hektir like that enormous boar from earlier are you?"
As Malavarius carries on in draconic, introducing himself and the others, he utterly forgets to translate for his compatriots. Zeno, reliable and stalwart as ever, ruffles his feathers in irritation before rolling his eyes and providing an on-going translation for the forgetful mage from his perch atop the wizard's hat.
"I have little time to prattle, old man. Explain to me how you came to be in this Hut! I did not see you enter, but I do not see Baba Yaga among your ranks."
"Well of course you don't see Baba Yaga with us, we're the ones looking for her after all. As for how we came into the hut, I was bamboozled by these impatient young fools after we freed the hut from some rather rude witchy persons in Whitethrone. The cauldron was supposed to bring us to Baba Yaga, but apparently has brought us to Iobaria. A trio of riddlesome ravens then brought us ultimately to this room and your own self."
Frowning with a harumpf at the larger man's impatience, Malavarius looks up at the furry underside of the front of his hat and laments to Zeno, "Does no one in this blasted world have the simple decency to have an unhurried conversation with an old man any more? Dark times indeed, Zeno. Dark times indeed."
Tsin lowers her arrow, as the strange man and and the man at the door interact. She tenses as they continue in a strange tongue. If he insists on finding his hat the entire time...
As Zeno translates, Tsin finds herself no less tense, only at least informed on the discussion. What began in anger, continues in volume, as if she regards Zeno's hearing as just as poor as Malavarius's, because of course, old men and hearing.
Hektir waits to see what happens. He assumes that Mal is talking about others when referring to 'fools' and 'bamboobled' because there is no way Hektir fits those descriptions.
Pems just watches Mal "diplomatize" with a horrified look on his face.
"I do not think you are supposed to be here, old man," the massive man replies, adjusting his grip a deadly-looking battleaxe.
"You and your little hangers-on hardly seem worthy of Baba Yaga's attention."
Quinn continues looking baffled by the foreign banter.
"Not supposed to be here? Well, I rather agree with you sir! It seems Baba Yaga isn't here either and it's her we're trying to find, after all." Zeno continues to translate for the group as Malavarius carries on, "I say, where is 'here' anyway? I gather we're somewhere in Iobaria? One of Baba Yaga's Riders, Umber Twilight or some such, gave us some items to use with her cauldron to bring us this far, are there other items to take us further? You wouldn't happen to have them by any chance, would you? Or perhaps my good hat?" As Zeno translates this last question, he slaps his wing across his eyes and beak in despair.
Pems will try to aid by looking as fierce as possible?
"It's starting to feel like everyone who knows Baba Yaga personally thinks they're above the fray. He was standing there watching the door like a dog waiting for its owner's return."
Hektir snickers at Tsin's comment.
"I don't truly know what is being said, but the tone, I get. I sure hope Zeno translates that last thought over, Tsin. This man is far too arrogant, even for a witchy friend."
The man seem to think for a moment, before glancing at Pems and finally deciding to answer, though suspiciously not about Mal's hat.
"Aye, you are in Iobaria. The Dancing Hut stands in the Hoofwood, in the Dvezda Marches in the east," he replies. "I do not have the keys to the Hut. Baba Yaga has enjoined me only to guard it."
You see him relax a bit as he talks.
The Dvezda Marches are a frozen stretch of grassy steppes and untouched wilds that form the northeastern quarter of Iobaria. This unclaimed region is known by many names including the Wilds, the Witchwilds, the Plague Lands, and its old cyclopean name of Old Koloran. The region's current name comes from the Dvezda centaurs who claimed the marches as their territory and united the region's centaur clans before being wiped out by one of the region's many plagues.
The Hoofwood is a sprawling boreal forest of coniferous trees. Named for the dozen or so clans of Rashalka centaurs who find shelter within the forest, no other sentient creatures are known to dwell beneath the Hoofwood's trees, making the region an island of stability within the chaos of Iobaria.
Hektir stares at the man, wondering if this is going to turn into a fight or not.
"Ask him why he doesn't leave. Tell him the truth that Baby Yaki isn't coming back anytime soon and he can go and leave us alone."
"What? We're in Old Koloran?! Good heavens, that's a twist. Hmmm." Malavarius strokes his beard as he thinks on the old Witchwood, it's nearness to the Three Who Watch, and what he recalls of centaurs. He starts as Hektir asks a question of him and looks at the tracksmage with wide eyes. "Good heavens, Hektir! When did you turn back into a man? Oh my." Shaking the surprise from his mind and taking a few steadying breaths, he looks at the group and Ratibor and whispers loudly, "I say, do you all think that barrel-chested fellow over there has seen my good hat by any chance? Oh! I'm sorry Hektir. What was it you wanted?"
"Tell him the truth that Baby Yaki isn't coming back anytime soon and he can go and leave us alone."
"Why would you think that's the truth of the matter? The man just said Baba Yaga has instructed him to guard the hut. Right, Zeno? Continue translating both sides of the conversation, and speak up louder. Hektir seems distracted, and misses what you tell us of the man's intentions."
Tsin moves closer to the man, studying him while tucking away her bow. "Ask him when he last spoke with Baba Yaga. Perhaps if we simply wait, she'll return, and save us the heart ache of having to wander out into foreign territories."
"Ah! Yes, thank you, Tsin." Malavarius turns back to the fellow at the door and inquires further, "Have you seen Baba Yaga recently by any chance? Her daughters in Irrisen are causing quite a lot of trouble, after all."
It takes some more conversation, but Pems continues to talk to the man through Mal and finally he seems to relax, having decided you couldn't be here without Baba Yaga's permission.
"I have not seen Baba Yaga since she imprisoned me here, some 200 years ago."
"So, she's missing and she's clearly not here. Why are we here, then?"
"...200 years...
"Ah well, there goes that hope. Likely the Ravens were up for a bit of sport, bored out of their minds for the years they failed to entertain guests."
Tsin moves to the front door, reasonably sure she won't be attacked in the endeavor. She opens the door, not sure upon what she'll lay eyes.
"Two centuries? Dash it all but that's an awfully long time. Have you had any dealings with those riddle-loving ravens or any of Baba Yaga's riders during that span? It seems a rather lonely task she left you with." Malavarius eases into a seated position atop a crate as he asks further questions of the burly doorman, sighing in relief as settles onto the sturdy wooden box.
Hektir, in a show of more goodwill than he feels inside, takes out one of his 8 remaining bottles of prime hoochshine and offers it the man.
"After 200 years, you must have a powerful thirst," Hektir says with a spit. "Too bad I couldn't bring a woman or two to help your needs there."
"200 years! What have you been doing with the chamberpot all this time? Careful stepping out that door, Tsin, might be a mess out there."
"I do not know, little man," the guardian responds. "I wonder why you are here as well. I have not talked to the ravens or any riders here, but I thank you for the drink."
He quaffs the bottle, taking a long pull of the liquid inside.
He steps aside as Tsin passes, though his eyes travel to her at Hektir's words.
She opens the door to see that the hut stands in a clearing in a dense, snow-covered forest.
Hektir's eyes glance to the snow covered forest, then back to the interior of the relatively warm hut.
"Maybe we rest here for the night, get some work done, and relax a bit before we go freezing our asses off out there," Hektir says with a spit and thinking of another bottle of hoochshine in his pouch.
As the man drinks the offered liquor, Quinn relaxes. "Well, at least we know he has the potential to appreciate Cayden. Let us rest here tonight, then continue the journey in the morning."
Pems shakes his head, still troubled by the missing witch and by what power could remove an icon like her.
"I agree with the rest. Mal, what do you know about this land?"
"Iobaria? Why, it's about as far east from Irrisen as Taldor is south. And it's old. Very old. The woods and marsh where the hut has placed itself used to be ruled by cyclopean tyrants in the distant past. Now, if I recall correctly, the only semblance of civilization is found in the various centaur tribes that have taken root, or hoof - ha! Did you hear that, Zeno? 'Taken hoof!' Remind me to remember that one in the future, won't you? Now, where was I? Ah, yes! The old Witchwood. I've not the faintest idea if my good hat's come this way or not, my boy. Blasted thing is dreadfully elusive, isn't it?"
Hektir preps for a rest. He sets his bedroll and begins to re-stack boxes and what not to create a nice chair and drink table.
He will open up another hoochshine bottle for he and others to share, having one more day of warmth before what he expects to meet in the Iborian tundrascape.
"Ayep, I figure we will march right out and find whatever we're looking for," Hektir says, taking a sip of 'shine and offering the bottle to Quinn.
"Say Mal, Pems...what are we looking for now? Some more eggs or something?"
Hektir stretches out.
Quinn takes the offered bottle. "Eggs would be nice, and some bacon too, I can't think of the last time we had a good Taldan meal. We should brew up that cauldron stuff for the good witch and find Mal's hat, then travel back south." Content to nurse the bottle, Quinn volunteers for first watch.
Tsin closes the door, pressing her hand on the wood to steady her anger. Why did I even hope that Baba Yaga would be right here, where the Black Rider said she's be? 'Oh? Didn't I tell you? First, you must bend over. Second, you must grab your ankles. Third...' She turns back on the room, her gaze passing across each man.
She listens to Malavarius describe their new location, watches the others get comfortable. She looks at the guard dog, turning to Malavarius. "What's this man's name, Mal? Have you at least properly introduced all of us?" She crosses the room, an ear still cocked to listen to Mal inquire, then pronounce names.
"Quinn, does Cayden still shine on you today? Can you still heal, if needed? I wanted to try something..."
Tsin thinks on winter, bringing her skin to a deep chill. She moves to Quinn, before he gets too comfortable. She places a hand on his forearm, curious to see if her has the desired effect. "I only want to know if I can depend on the Robe's magic, Quinn. If I've judged you correctly, you have a resistance to the cold, as I do." She looks with interest to see what happens.
She moves about the room, looking for food items. If she finds none, she crosses the hall, and searches the cauldron room as well. Finding anything worthwhile, she prepares a charcuterie board of any meats she finds, or dried fruits or the like. She lays it out, having already eaten what she can while preparing. She excuses herself, indicating her desire to use the cauldron room to sleep. Before she leaves, she inquires with Malavarius.
"Mal, have you learned yet how to apply flame permanently to my falchion? We are still in cold clime, and the ability to burn is quite valuable, wouldn't you say?"
You do not find any food in either room.
"Ooww!" Quinn quickly pours hoochshine on the wound and sighs in relief.
"Ah, well that seems to work rather well. Thank you, Quinn. I'm in your debt, should you require reciprocation."
Tsin grumbles, as she finds nothing edible within the Hut. "Let's not tarry too long. We've nothing to eat here, so we might need to hunt for sustenance."
Hektir watches Tsin icy display with interest. He takes the hoochshine and begins to rub it against her robe.
"Just hold on here a moment, Tsin, you might finally be useful..."
Hektir ices up the hooch good and passes the bottle to Quinn to sample.
"Maybe it's better chilled."
Pems yawns, finding himself tired and suddenly unable to remember the last time he had a good night's sleep. He finds a warm corner, pulls his cloak over himself and snuggles up with Flash, dreaming of small women.
"His name? It's 'Rattyboar' or somesuch, if I heard him right. As for your sword, I'm not sure if I could do what you ask or not. If I could, it would take quite some time and we don't have the necessary powders and dusts I'd need to weave the magic and blade together." He taps the end of his nose and draws the wand he'd used so frequently and finally drained of magic. "I do have enough to ensorcel this I think, but that too would take some time. And time isn't something we seem to have in abundance at the moment."
Tsin nods begrudgingly. "Alright. You'll let me know if I bother you too much regarding your crafting, won't you? It is a shame we don't have the luxury of time. I would be willing to wait for your renewal of the wand, if it's not overly long."
You wake up in the morning to grumbling stomachs after an uncomfortable night in the Hut and make your way to the door.
Ratibor stands aside as you approach, but offers a warning: "Remember, I am enjoined to not let anyone not in the company of Baba Yaga enter this Hut. If you return, I have no choice but to hold to that binding."
As you leave the hut's interior and emerge onto the porch into the cold wintry air, you suddenly hear a yell.
A blue-skinned man, about 15 feet tall with light blue skin and matching eyes, wearing a chain shirt and metal helmet decorated with feathers lets out a yell and hefts a wintry boulder.
"Noe kommer ut!" it hollers.
"Something's comin' out!"
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Antagonist:
"Cayden, grant us patience against these yokels. Pems, can you talk some sense into these brutes?" Quinn grants the guidance of Cayden to Pems.