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No time really. One move to get 10' up the icy wall, but the top is 40' higher. If you were not clinging on, it would be at least a move action to remove a rope from your pack.
The heard stampedes past, crushing Grigori, Hanud and Zimti underfoot!
After a short while, which seems a long time for those holidng on, and an eterntity for Zimti, Hanud and Grigori who are being trampled, the stampede passes.
That nobody was killed seems almost a miracle.
Status
Grigori - 19 damage
Zimti - 19 damage
Hanud - 19 damage.
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"Ooof!" the priest cries out in pain after spitting up blood to one side. Seeing himself splayed about on the ground and not quite remembering how he got that way, the big thumping bump on his head reminds him of the probable reason for his short term amnesia. Looking around at his other trampled companions, the priest begins to slowly stand up once more, wondering why the scent of ox dung is heavy in the air...
The priest eventually begins to perform the rituals for group healing, his broken arm and other wounds closing up nicely as the divine magic works its wonders...
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NL damage is healed 1-1 at the same time as lethal. But after resting a night in the cave, the NL damage was healed anyway.
The group, back up to strength (more or less) presses onwards. Soon the ravine opens out, just as it did on the map.
A dozen Kellid warriors with painted faces stand vigilant in the center of the route. Although they are armed with axes and round, Ulfen-styled shields, their weapons are not drawn. At the head, a tall and powerfully-built figure with piercing eyes steps forward. As he approaches, his hands are held palm up until he is close enough for words.
“I am Hiryla,” he says in broken Common, his words flowing with a strange cadence that suggests that he is speaking words that were given to him by another to say.
“You come with me… We must talk.”
Status
Zimti - 5 damage
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Looking on towards the kellids while speaking to Hanud beside him, "I vwould surmise, comrade Hanud, that if they vwanted us dead, they vwould have attacked us already. Rather than ask us to come and talk."
Grigori scratches his goatee, "If their leader, vwhom I presume vwe are being taken to, speaks a common tongue vwith us, perhaps vwe can use this to our advantage..."
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As the group helps the trampled come to, Zimti takes a moment to help himself some more with his own wand.
...
As the group mutters to each other, Zimti nods as he follows along. "I agree with Jazmine agreeing with Grigori. I sure hope the next conversation continues as peacefully as the introduction did."
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Hiryla leads the pathfinder team eastwards and over a snow covered hill for about an hour. Then, before you is a village at the base of the hill on the far side. The village is composed of small, round houses and low, long buildings built of stone with thatched roofs.
You are led into the village and finally into the largest hut, in the very centre.
Inside this grand hall, dozens of Kellid men, women, and children scurry to and fro, passing food and drink around an enormous central hearth. Long, low benches ring the fire, and a handful of elderly Kellids, decked out in ornate white furs sit on the other side of the flames from the building’s entrance. A young woman with one leg, walking with the aid of a crutch, greets Hiryla in Hallit, and then turns to the door and speaks in perfect Taldane. “Welcome to the North,” she says with a broad grin and a handshake. “My name is Teyma.”
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Jamzine steps forward to accept Teyma's handshake, then bows respectfully toward the elders "Well met! My name is Jazmine, and my companions and I are Pathfinders. It is good that we can communicate. We have been having some trouble that could probably have been handled better if we were able to sit down and talk."
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Teyma gestures you to a table to sit at. Teyma tells you that the Snowmask Clan has skirmished with a group of travelers out of Irrisen many times in the last few days as the intruders have come farther and farther into their lands. Initially, they attempted to talk with these outsiders, but they were attacked, and fought back.
"We are glad you are talking. But we do want to know why two groups of southerners come into our lands and follow the same route."
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"The men that came before us are responsible for some heinous crimes. We are tracking them, trying to keep them from finding the keep of the Huscarl King, and make them atone for their deeds. We have been tracking and fighting them for some time now, and could really use your help in taking these criminals down."
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The priest introduces himself with a formal bow, a slight smile, and smoothly turns a handshake into a kiss on the back of the lovely kellid woman's hand. "Grigori Yefimovich, at your service."
Rolling his eyes at Darius's response, he's pleased with Jazmine's, allowing her response to sink in and be responded to before he chimes in himself.
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"Now, this is the story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute, just sit at the bar-ra
I'll tell you how I became the jester of Oparra."
Darius starts to sing and tells a long and comic story about his childhood and how he turned to the life as a jester. He includes the story of his maid, much to Grigori's horror, and how she played with his third leg.
Fortunately, he also tells about the recent adventures of him and his colleagues about the lengthy pursuit through the snowy region and the reason they are currently here for.
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The fop of a priest was about to regale their tale himself when the foolish jester SO rudely interrupted him. The priest does wait impatiently for his face-painted frenemy to finish already before adding his own short addition, using what he believes to be a superior rhyme structure, to fill in any missing details... and begins with a correction.
* ahem * "The youth alas was nev'r laid,
By the lovely and patient maid.
For only in his head quite dense,
Of course didst such event commence..."
He orates a few more verses. Unfortunately, Grigori's annoyance with Darius becomes too palpably distracting from the skill of his oration to be effective...
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Darius takes the poor attempt at a jab and twists out a few verses of his own aimed at the old man, which are of much better quality than Grigori's.
"Tsk, the old man tries his best,
But every task he tries becomes a failfest.
Be it climbing walls or females,
Perhaps he should really stop chasing those tails.
For to his coffin they only add more nails,
And the man's heart is already so stressed"
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Jazmine starts clapping and tapping her feet in time to a wild and earthy tune.. haunting and entrancing. As the boys go back and forth in their petty arguments and innuendos, she lifts her voice in song herself. Starting low and rhythmic then rising to sudden peaks only to fall back down the scale, the music seems to carry its own magic, lurking behind the boys. As they finish their songs, Jazmine lifts her own voice to the Elders, as her feet shuffle into halting steps half forgotten.
"Through fire and pain,
this tale wends its way
from far distant lands
to near frozen shores.
The deceitful enemy bled the village dry
and turned the master awry.
Vengeance he sought but
in error it was aimed
Too well did the enemy do their jobs.
Wrongfully blamed, the Pathfinders fought
No justice to be found,
but through strife, shadow, and dismay
eventually even the wing'ed deamon fell.
That brings us to now..
an enemy desperate and fell
searching for the weapons of the past.
We harry and harass, but ever from behind
until through the fate of the gods
we are before the ancient friend.
Tomorrow has yet to be spoken
nary a clue from behind the veil
but each day dawns new
each man with his own life in his hands."
As her voice falls for the last time, she hums the melody for a few more measures, slowly dropping off the clapping and dancing as she does. She then steps back into the crowd, awaiting the Kellids reaction.
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Ozak looks over those assembled and tells them of his homeland Tien and some of his life there and family.
"When i leave Tien to travel i always remember my home and what was teach to me. I joined the Pathfinders to help those i can and to repent for the things that made me leave Tien. I wish to help you and those like you." Ozak says. Though he never says why he leave sorrow plays across his eyes while his face betrays little of the pain he feels at remembering.
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Though Grigori is ready to rip the jester a new one with a few more choice verses, he hesitates as Jazmine steps up to... sing?! Grigori listens with surprised wonderment in his eyes as Jazmine performs her heart out.
Oh delight of delights!
"Brava! Bravisima!" the priest claps for several seconds...
...before continuing her song in his own operatic baritone! Totally ignoring the Tien man's brief tale, Grigori puffs his chest and belts it out. He raises and lowers his right hand to emphasize certain phrases as he holds certain notes. It would appear that the huntress inspired him to perform far better this time.
* ahem * "My comrades' spirits are low,
Trudging through the chill vwinter.
But the jester is a schmo,
And makes us feel much lower.
The sparrow's belly is chill,
Sitting on the icy bough.
But our bellies are more chill,
As vwe step through glades of snow.
Our enemies' hearts are cold,
As they seek the Huscarl's shrine.
But vwe are much colder still,
As vwe yearn to thwart their crime."
Hoping to entertain the kellids (and Jazmine) with his talented operatic voice, he goes on for several more verses, using the first verse as a refrain he repeats a few times... well, he had to include Darius in there somewhere...
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Hanud smiles.
"I hail from Five Kings Mountains, coming to the Pathfinder society due to me interest in learning of ancient things. While I was but a wee pup, learning the ways of proper archaeology, me former master was struck down in devil-touched Cheliax, while I was on an errand in ancient Osiron."
He takes a breath for effect
"I voewed no one would ever be enslaved or harmed over finding out our collective past, and I would battle those who would choose to hide it from the world."
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The clan listens in growing awe as the tale of the pathfinder society, and the individual tales of the pathfinder team comes out. An appreciative audience, they ply the team with hot food and interesting beverages as the tale is told (and retold by Teyma). Finally once your tale is told, they start to tell their own.
One of the elders, her face painted white like those of Hiryla and the other warriors, stands from the bench. With no other cue the room falls silent as she speaks. Her words have a strength and resonance belied by her withered frame. Again Teyma translates.
“This is the story that the elders told me when I was a child. Once, a great warrior came to our lands from the South, though his blood and his beard were of the West, in the land where the first dragons hunt and kill. With gold and magic this warrior built a stone keep at the base of a mighty mountain. During this time he came to us, in peace, and invited us to his hearth with gifts of furs. Humbly he asked the elders of our clan if he could hunt with them and share in our ways. Quickly he proved himself a friend to all, sharing in our customs and sharing his with us."
“By the time the last stone was laid in his keep, he had hunted with the elders many times, and made many kills. His axe, sheathed in fire, had protected us from the white wolves and the yetis, just as we too had used our food and furs to keep him warm against the deepest colds. When his banner was raised, the elders were guests in his hall, and some of his own house had already merged their blood with our own. For years the king and our elders prospered, and we learned of crafts, weapons, and ways different from those that came before."
“Then the white wyrms came. For beneath the keep, in the iced averns below, the dragons had bred. For years their eggs slept and waited. When they hatched, they plagued the king and his new house, but he fought them back with the strength of his arm and the fire of his axe, and the battle was nearly won. But when a matriarch of the white returned to tend her brood, she was furious at the king and threw herself on the keep in madness. In the season of the longest nights, still the sun set and rose again before the battle was decided. The King struck the wyrm down, even though his armor and his beard were white with the ice of her breath. Our elders made trophies and talismans from what remained of the beast, and helped rebuild the crumbled tower."
“The mammoths crossed the plains ten times, three times over before the great king passed, and still the dragons were kept at bay. When the hour of his dying came, the great and generous Huscarl King gave all within his castle to those that had served and befriended his house, save for his mighty axe. With this, the elders buried him, and as we raise a mound of stones over the dead when the earth is too cold to dig, so did the elders bring the mountain down atop our king. Ever since have we held vigil over his tomb and what lies within. We remember his lessons, his ways that bled into the ways of the elders to
become our ways. And we remember his beard, first white with frost, then with age, as it symbolizes what he protected us from and what he stood watch against.”
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The priest calms down from his excessive musical performance, and listens intently to Teyma as she translates the elder's words. He admires her beauty, yet appears to be simply focused on her words the entire time.
Finally, he mutters a brief prayer to Pharasma, then steps forward. With regal stature, he asks Teyma to please translate what he says to the elders. His begins more calmly, but rises in passion as he speaks. "Comrades. The time has come to protect the Huscarl's tomb once more. Those who came before us, the strangers vwhom attacked your people, vwe call them the Shadow Lodge. A sinister purpose guides them, and vwe seek to put a stop to their plans. They know of the fiery vweapon of your generous king, and seek to use it for evil! But vwe vwill put a stop to them."
He looks around with confident and burning defiance in his eyes by this point, inspiring the kellids to join them in battle. "Vwho among your vwarriors is vwilling to fight vwith us, to put an end to their sinister plans... and secure against the desecration of your great king's tomb and the bloodshed of many?"
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"You speak brave words. I and four of my warriors will accompany you!".
During the evening you spend some time getting to know the snowmask tribe, who are friendly and generous with those who are their friends. You even spot the man you saved from the woverine at the start hiding near the back of the group drinking your good health.
You also pick up enough of the basics of the language to be able to make (very basic) communication.
After resting the night, you head off in the morning with five Kelid assistants, helping you make good time. Within a few hours you are close to the mountains, and entering a slightly oddly shaped valley.
The bones of two ancient stone watchtowers rise from the ground like sentries set to guard the entrance to Ranulf’s Keep. Snow and ice still cover their base, making them inaccessible, but they mark the edge of the Huscarl’s Keep, just visible in the distance.
Hiryla’s scouts signal the approach of the Shadow Lodge agents from within the keep as you approach the structure.
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As the enemy approaches and the end of this horrid journey nears, Jazmine thinks of all the sights and experiences that have come since she first set out with this motley crew so long ago. Good friends and good times, as they say... Mostly unexpected, but largely very satisfying. She squares herself off, getting ready, and as she does so, she casts a spell on her sword. Giggles begins a growl deep in her chest, and gets larger before your eyes She lifts her weapon, and true hate flashes in her eyes as she thinks of all the harm these evil roaches have caused.
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"Many a lady has said,
Shadow boys are bad in bed!
Before trouble approaches,
they pour out of their fortress,
And come before she's half done!"
The priest steps forward with his bejeweled crossbow of ebony while continuing to loudly rant about the renowned premature... ahem, "evacuation," of Shadow Lodge members, taking aim at the nearest target and letting a bolt loose upon him or her...
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Since their opponents are so far off, Darius moves forward twenty feet, pulls his sword and goes on the defensive.
-Posted with Wayfinder