Pems freezes, his sling halfway to firing. He stops and looks at the old man. "Is this some sort of fey trick?"
"There is no trick, at least not from me. Once, I was called Illarion Matveius. Now I am known as Black Midnight. I am Baba Yaga’s Black Rider, harbinger of the Witch Queen’s return."
"What is this place?" he asks as he looks around, trying to climb to his feet.
Tsin steps between Illarion and the portal, falchion at the ready for the next one across. "This land is southern Taldor. From your accent, I'd say you're a ways from home. Are you alone?" Tsin doesn't look at the fallen old man, keeping her eyes on the portal.
Hektir joins Tsin at the portal, trying to protect Mal and Pems for the assuredly-coming Fey onslaught.
"Why are you here? If you're looking for a desert or warmth, it's been stolen by snow. I hate to break that to you."
Hektir spits.
"And who the hell is Baby Yogi?"
Malavarius' eyes widen at Illarion's claim, " Well you can tell the Queen of Witches that neither she nor her cruel daughters are welcome here! We want nothing to do with her or her witchy witches!"
Pems nearly leaps as Mal begins to shriek his defiance. He looks from Mal to the old man, clearly infirm and pained and back again.
"It's like watching my grandpas fight." Pems mutters.
"Da, I am alone, though I know not if others are behind me. The servants of Queen Elvanna, ruler of Irrisen and betrayer of her own mother, have hunted down those of us who would herald Baba Yaga’s return. They slew my associates. I am the last of the Three Riders and a threat to Elvanna’s plans."
He laughs, wearily, at Mal's words.
"These are no plans of Baba Yaga's. Elvanna wishes to take Dear Grandmother’s place, and claim all of Golarion as her personal kingdom. Irrisen is a land of endless winter, created by Baba Yaga’s magic, but Elvanna seeks to cover the entire world in ice and snow, using portals like this one. Only Baba Yaga can stop her. Only the Queen of Witches can undo what her daughter has done."
Malavarius frown deeply behind his beard. "Golarion's better off without the lot of them, if you ask me. But say I believe you, Herald. How do we convince the Old Crone to thwart her daughter's coup and plug these blasted snowy portals, hmmm?"
Quinn feel all warmth drain from his already chilly body, "Did you say portalS, as in there are more of these things around Golarion?" A new resolve blooms in Quinn, "We must stop Elf Anna, she cannot be allowed to create more of these portals and plunge our lands into winter! Where is she, Illarion, so that the butcher may strike her down!"
Pems stands and shivers, though not from cold. Something in the Herald's voice rings true with him, for ever since the cold seeped into him he's felt a pull, a calling to the north. As if he were being drawn there.
"Can we close this portal? Is it possible?"
Hektir gives a sharp intake of breath as the Black Rider explains things. He ponders in silent for a moment before getting more and more angry.
"Cover the world in ice!? COVER MY SUMMER IN ICE!?" Hektir spits with rage. "Where is this dang Queen?" Hektir drops his spear and draws his scimitar. "Where is this frosty b*!&!? I murderize her dead! I'll summon fire bears to tear her arms off. I'll...I'll...I'll..." Hektir sputters with rage. "...tell me where to find her! I like my summers hot!"
Hektir begins to hack at the vortex, a furious anger released.
"Baba Yaga has not appeared as planned. I and my companions sought her, but they are now dead and I fear I lack the strength to continue much longer."
"Yes," he replies to Quinn, staggering to his feet. [b]"This portal is but one of many. Even if you were to travel to the Pale Tower and, as you say, plug it, you might save your kingdom for a time, but it would surely fall as the rest of Golarion came to its doom. As for Elvanna, I think only Baba Yaga can stop her. If she was able to kill the White Rider and the Red Rider, and likely me as well, I fear she will be well beyond your butcher's abilities.”
"If all the riders are as aged as you, their fall, as well as yours, doesn't demonstrate her strength as much as it demonstrates your weakness." Tsin takes her eyes off the portal long enough to address Illarion face-to-face.
"As for striking down queens, that's quite out of my purvey."
"Tell us, Illarion, where do we find this Pale Tower to buy our lands some time, and then where do we find this negligent parent known as Baba Yaga?"
Still not trusting any wintery creature fully, Quinn tries to determine if the man is lying and setting a trap for the party.
"So... we have to find this Baba Yaga woman, then? And she can fix this? Where is she?"
"Be careful, woman," he responds to Tsin. "Our mistress has given us great power, more than what you see now. Elvanna has great resources, that of an entire kingdom, that she marshaled against us."
"The Pale Tower is on the other side of this portal, in Irrisen. As for Baba Yaga, she can indeed fix it, but I know not where she is. If you were to find her, you must use her Dancing Hut to follow her. The hut is a powerful artifact that can cross great distances, even travel between worlds. If you can control the hut, it can take you to Baba Yaga...
"You will take on this challenge then? You will seek out Baba Yaga?"
He stands up as he asks this final question, his voice growing deeper and his words weightier as he looks into each of your eyes.
Hektir stops swinging at the vortex, turning his head to meet the Black Rider's eyes, still snorting figurative fire.
"I don't need your permission to find this icy %@*$! and shove $#%@% right into $#@!, do I? I don't like this cold and it ain't right. No way that nature is going to stand for this...no way at all," Hektir stays stepping closer and waggling his sword at the Rider. "We need to find a dancing hut? What does that even mean? Has your blood loss limited your thinkering?"
Hektir looks at the man and his body softens as he realizes what the man is truly saying.
He's dying...and this is it for him. Pity.
Wishing he could take back his angered words, Hektir bows his head in silence for a moment, trying to find peace. Hektir puts away his sword and looks at the man again.
"Sure. I'll take care of this for you. Don't you worry. You've done what you needed to do," Hektir says.
You can die in peace, you crazy coot. Dancing huts? Baby Gagas? Poor guy...gone crazed. Best send him off all calmlike.
Malavarius tugs violently on his beard, then knocks his hat off his head running his hands over his balding pate, "Seek out Baba Yaga? Seek out Baba Yaga? Seek out ... Baba Yaga?! This... this is madness! Don't think I've forgotten the horrors that Crone's daughter wrought up my friends and mentor, Herald! Is that black-hearted witch really the only way to stop this... this... this Elvanna? Because if she is, this sounds like a positively terrible plan."
Tsin hears Illarion's address, and thinks better of retorting. There's something in his voice that discomforts. That may be shades of death slowly darkening over him. Yes, that's likely it.
"Pems, you addressed the name of Baba Yaga when we first encountered that hut, and that dreadful doll. If the hut is the means to finding the her, then we can turn back. It should still be there, shouldn't it?"
"Look around you. This is not natural, and is just a fraction of what Elvanna is doing. Do you think you can stop this? I promise you, only Baba Yaga has the strength and power to stop her daughter."
The man smiles grimly at Tsin's words.
"I know not what hut you found, but I tell you it is not Baba Yaga's. The true Dancing Hut was stolen by Elvanna and put it on display in Irrisen’s capital, Whitethrone, as a symbol of her power."
"Yes, Illarion, we will find Baba Yaga and provide the proper social pressure to jog her parental instincts, as lacking as they may be. What is our quickest route to the Pale Tower, and from there what is the quickest route to Whitethrone? Does Elvanna have any weaknesses that you know of?"
Bah! Impetuous young people and your hasty decisions! I hope you know what you're so readily agreeing to there, Master Kestrel. Baba Yaga is no friend of ours or anyone else's for that matter. Helping her may prove to be worse in the long run, lad. Oh! I know, maybe we could find a helpful dragon of terrible power. A whole flock of them. Dragons do travel in flocks, don't they? Or is it a murder? Hmmm. Certainly not a herd or gaggle. No no, those aren't right at all. What was I going on about? Ah, right. Baba Yaga! Surely there must be a better alternative than casting our lot in with the blasted Queen of Witches!"
Pems frowns. "I will find this witch and her dancing hut. If only because something of this cold has seeped into me and I want to find out what and why."
"Even I know it's a parliament of dragons, and we won't so much be 'helping' her, we'll be 'persuading' her to take care of her children."
"The Pale Tower is not far from the village of Waldsby, which is not far from the other side of this portal. From there, it is a hundred miles or more to Whitethrone. As for Elvanna, I did not expect her to be able to do what she has done, so I wouldn't presume to know what weaknesses she might have."
He smiles, seemingly with some real mirth -- if cold mirth -- at Quinn's words about Baba Yaga.
"I am inclined to readily agree with Malavarius. We are ill-prepared to sustain ourselves through this chaotic weather, with weapons that are turned away by the creatures that will invariably confront us." Tsin wraps herself more tightly in yeti fur.
"Illarion, you said yourself that the genuine Hut lies in the possession of the queen herself. And the Hut is the sole means of locating Baba Yaga. Look at us." Tsin points to each member of the party. "Do you see a fell force, able to procure the Hut from under royal guard? I do not seek to join you shortly in the afterlife."
"If you will accept the mantle of responsibility, I can give you a taste of Baba Yaga's power, which will help you on this quest. If not, I must move on -- my time grows short and I must find someone who can undertake this task."
A spasm of pain wracks his body as he says this.
"These are dark, dark days indeed if we are considering accepting power from Baba Yaga." The aging wizard frowns deeply as he regards the wounded herald. "You young folk are the one's who'll have to live longest with the consequences here, not me. So I'll leave it to you four to decide whether to accept this Purple Midnight fellow's offer or to look for aid elsewhere."
Hektir, in a moment of mercy, reaches to grasp the man's shoulder. He turns his head to hiss at his companions.
"C'mon you guys, he ain't going to last long. Might as well agree...ain't nothing going to come of it. This is important to him...and he ain't got much time left. Besides, we gotta close this portal no matter what. Might as well see things on the other side," Hektir says to the group.
Hektir squares to face the Rider.
"Sure, I'll do it. Now why don't you lay down and we'll try to get you some comfort."
Hektir looks at Quinn.
"Quinn, do you have something to make him comfortable? A lot of whiskey?"
"What about that shard of ice still lodged in his back? Quinn, can't you bring him back to full health, like you've done at least twice for Hektir?" Tsin stays back, watching the portal for possible second or third volleys of ice spears.
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At the urging from Hektir, Quinn grasps the other shoulder of the purple rider. If Hektir is confident in this, then I'll be confident in it as well, there's none more stalwart and trustworthy than Hektir!
"I wish I did have some whiskey left, but I drank my last drops already, same with the wine, and applejack, and that extra skin of ale, plus the bottle I lifted from the lodge, and that flask of corn spirits..." A loud spit from Hektir gets Quinn back on track, "But let's see if there's anything we can do to ease his suffering." Quinn checks the man's injuries to see if anything can be done for him.
Quinn, you begin to investigate, but the man stops you. "No. My thanks, boy, but is no good. Even if Elvanna weren't searching for me, what I must do makes your help with my wound pointless. I rely on the five of you to find Baba Yaga, and let her deal with treacherous daughter."
He pulls a lock of white hair and a plague doctor’s mask from a pouch.
"When it is time, take these keys, which I took from Elvanna. Once I reactivate their power, which Elvanna has stolen, placing them in the hut’s cauldron will retrace Baba Yaga’s path.”
"Now, if you are ready, stand back.”
Hektir, having heard rumors of exploding monkeys, stands the heck back.
"One more question, Umber Twilight, this power you're about to bestow upon us... how can I be rid of it when this task is done?"
From a nearby tree a high pitched voice calls out,
Hektir chortles.
Nice one, Zeno.
"A man is about to die this hour, and you're laughing, tracker?" Tsin glowers at Hektir.
"I would hear your answer to Mal's question."
Pems steps back nervously. The idea of the old rider bestowing power upon him, upon any of them, makes him very very nervous.
"You can ask Baba Yaga to take the power from you, should you find her and wish it. Otherwise, you shall have it until you die."
"A man is about to die this hour, and you're laughing, tracker?" Tsin glowers at Hektir.
Hektir looks at Tsin and spits.
"Ah, Woman, you misunderstand. I think what he's doing is glorious. A man should die as he wants to die. There is honor in that," Hektir spits again to emphasize his point. "Now, this one wants to die because he believes in his fairy tale...a great Baby who has children. I respect that...it's no more real than Eskimos or boomsticks, but real to him just the same. Now, if he wants to die like this or by being snoo snoo'd to death by nymphs, I'll support him in that. Man's honor."
Hektir stands quiet for a few seconds before chortling again.
Umber Twilight. Addled old goat. Teehee.
"Be wary, stranger. You do not wish to cross Baba Yaga, for she is deadly. Mock her at your own peril."
With that, he locks eyes with each of you for a moment. Then he pulls a knife and, before you can react, he plunges it into his throat. His eyes widen for a moment and then he gives a sigh as he blood flows out.
It coats the lock of hair and mask, but seems to be simply absorbed by the two items, though plenty stains the white snow around him.
As he collapses, his magic robes melt away like ice in a fire, leaving behind the body of an old man dressed in a simple black tunic.
Moments later, you feel a numbing cold fill your bodies, and your skin seems to tingle as you shake violently for a few seconds. The sensations soon passes, leaving you feeling invigorated.
Quinn reaches down and picks up both the lock of hair and the mask. "What strange gifts? Still, he seemed a nice enough fellow, shame he cut himself like that. Mal, do you want to take a look at these things, I'm still never sure what I'm looking at."
Hektir swallows some (if not most) of his self-confidence as the effect washes over him.
That wasn't make believe...that was real. Baba Yaga is real!?
Hektir swallows hard, looking around to see if others felt the same thing.
"She's real? This ain't a joke?" Hektir asks with consternation, while flexing his new muscles. "He wasn't joking. This is for real. What'd we agree to?!"
Hektir looks at Quinn.
"What did we agree to, Quinn? Why didn't you stop us?"
"It's just a short walk-about, it won't be nothing, a little travel is good for the soul. First we find some ale, then we watch Tsin smack around some icy beasts in a tower, then we ride a walking hut for a hundred miles across the frozen tundra, then we chastise an uninvolved mother and her selfish child. That should be easy after besting a troll in a snowstorm. We'll be back before harvest festival." Quinn beams happily at Hektir and the rest of his companions, "Finally, it feels like the end of this winter is within our grasp!"
Tsin falls to one knee, shocked look on her face. She laughs involuntarily, then catches herself. "That. What. Was. That?" She regains herself, and stands, looking back and forth between the others.
"Illarion, what did you do?" Tsin approaches the body, looks it over for the wound, newly aware of the weal imposed on herself and the others.
She quietly starts dragging the body away from the portal. She brings the body to the igloo with the 20' pit, and awaits the others, especially Quinn. "How must we prepare the body, to show him the most respect?"
Not wanting to disappoint Tsin, and understanding that people need closing, Quinn does his best to present some sort of frozen ceremony of burying the old man in an icy tomb. "Here, hack lots of those pine branches to lay across him after we place him to rest in this tomb." Sliding into the pit, Quinn sets the man in a position of rest and speaks a few rites over the corpse, then gently starts placing the pine boughs in a laced pattern over him. After several feet of layering, Quinn climbs out of the hole and enlists the efforts of the group in collapsing the ice block hut over the hole and sealing the icy tomb. "Hopefully the thick layer of branches keep the animals from him when the thaw starts. Maybe we come back when this wintery business is all finished and build him a real cairn?"
Pems gasps as the man kills himself, then falls to the ground as the shaking and trembling begins. When it passes, he lets out a long gasping breath and stands, still weak and shaky. "I... I don't know what just happened. But I feel oddly... better?"
As the waves of energy dissipate, Malavarius grumpily barks, "Bah! Now we've really put our foot in it! Under the sway of Baba Yaga! Let's see to the Old Crone's former herald and then be on our way. The quicker we're rid of Baba Yaga's touch the better!"
Hektir grunts as he helps Quinn build the ice cairn (but not before searching the Umber Twilight's body for magic and loot).
"Sure wish you had told me what we were getting into Quinn. Like that time you tricked me into signing up for the militia. This is a bit worse. I just wanna buy a good wife and go back to my warm woods. I didn't sign up for all this shit."
When he is finished helping Quinn, Hektir will spend an hour of quiet contemplation alone.
* * *
Hektir looks at the rest of the party.
"Now what? Do we really need to go through with this? Maybe we go back and find some nice womanfolk to cuddle with. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"
Quinn reminisces at Hektir's mention of their militia days...
Spring had just blossomed and the frost was out of the air. It was the perfect time to get the road back underfoot, to see new lands in their height of bloom. When the man offered to pay them for traveling, what a deal! Quinn signed up both him and Hektir on the spot, sure his friend would be eternally grateful to be paid for traveling and sleeping outdoors. The whole militia bit was just nonsense, some cattle rustling charge, most likely a few ranchers not making good neighbors, and those kind of squabbles always turned out peaceful. In hindsight, Quinn probably should have told Hektir about that part before they got on the road, but it had slipped his mind while they were celebrating their new jobs with fresh cider.
The working vacation started out wonderfully, fresh riding horses to quickly cover the still muddy roads and a few dozen armed companions to keep any threats away. Quinn basked in those first three days of open travel, loving the feeling of being outside and passing the flask between him and Hektir far too many times. By the third day they had opened his third flask and were drifting well behind the rest of the grumbling militia as they approached the ranch.
The plan was to rattle a few sabers, make a few threats, and intimidate the ranchers into cooperation. The best laid plans often go awry, and terrible plans have even worse odds. The truth was rancher feuds could get very ugly and a drunk small town militia with poor weapons and worse tactics did not help to calm the situation. Ultimately it was Cayden Cailean's influence that saved their lives, at least Quinn believed that, if he and Hektir hadn't been drunk and far behind the rest of the group they would have shared the same fate.
As it was, they just lost their horses due to a lack of drunken riding skills as they fled from the massacre, while the rest of the militia lost their lives in a swift and bloody encounter. The silver lining was that Quinn learned a great deal about healing during the slow walk home, having to tend the wounds that both he and Hektir suffered in their falls from the horses, and it got them outdoors for a solid two weeks as they hobbled across the countryside.
Tapping a finger on Hektir's chest, Quinn emphasizes his point without spitting, "You haven't found a wife yet around here, and the old guy said go to a city or two in Irrisen where it's always cold, maybe you'll have better odds of finding a gal to snuggle with if it's really cold and she needs the warmth? Come on Hektir, don't tell me you're reluctant to take the chance at finding a wife, she could be just a short walk from that portal and we'll never know unless we go through it." Turning to the whole group, Quinn offers encouragement, "Come on guys, it'll just be a short little trip, I promise!"
Hektir, still grumpy at Quinn for letting him make this mistake, shakes his head at Quinn.
This ain't going to be good...but I like the idea of warm women in warm beds on cold nights.
Hektir starts prepping for going through the vortex, his first step to reattach his heavy shield to his arm. He takes the mancatcher spear and offers it to Quinn.
"This ain't right for me. It just don't feel right...I like having m'shield, but you Quinn...you got that tin plate and this will fit in your hands mighty fine, I think. And it's magic. Might fit you well," Hektir says while offering the weapon.
"Give it a try for a bit, eh? And let's get moving, huh?" Hektir spits, starting to herd the party to the vortex.
"I'll go first, I ain't afraid of nothing no how."
When people are ready, Hektir will draw his scimitar and step through, his snowshoes crunching in the snow.