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Ylosani rounds the corner just in time to see Yuukyou taken down by a combination of evil energy and zombie fists. There is no sign of any of his other companions.
Though he wants to howl in anger and despair, he knows that will do him no good and he needs to save his breath for what he has to do now. He turns and runs. And runs. And runs, making his way through the woods to the road a ways down through the woods then backtracking his way along the path they took.
He only slows when he can't run any longer and he does not stop until he reaches the village. He storms into the tavern, slamming the Bow of the Southern Winds, which he's had clutched in his fist the whole way onto a table and slumping over it.
He is silent for a time, head clutched in his hands before he stands and looks around the room.
"The danger is more powerful than we expected but we found it's trail. My companions gave their lives fighting its minions. Who here has the bravery to help me avenge their deaths and end this threat for good?"
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Sitting alone in a corner in the quiet tavern in Heldren, Maraxus watches the goings on in the sleepy little town. He was between campaigns and without prospective employment for the moment. Receiving word that there was strange weather happening in this small corner of the world, and being close by after his last work for the church of Gorum, he wandered in to see for himself what was happening, and pondering offering his services to the town to deal with the unnatural occurrences.
Observers of the man would have little difficulty determining his status and profession. His coat of plates was simply adorned with the symbol of Gorum, the plates worn and oft repaired, the chain dented and the leather backing shiny from hard use. Spikes adorn the gauntlets and bracers, sharp but well worn.
A dented bascinet sits on the table next to his mug, like his armor, it is unadorned and undecorated, a simple armor for a simple man.
Above the armor, the man's face is much like his armor, used, battered, scarred and unattractive. A clean shaven face shows scars from both brawls and battles, intense brown eyes watching the room cooly. His hair, already going prematurely grey is cut short and uneven, as if simply chopped with a dagger for field expediency.
Much like the armor and the man, the greatsword and dagger belted to the man's waist are well worn and simple, as is the pole hammer casually leaned against the wall.
The man is what he is, a simple priest of the god of War. Born to battle, seeking nothing further than to fight and strive for victory.
His past is a simple one, so common for warriors for hire across all of Golarion. A simple farm boy, bored with the simple life of an honest farmer, running off to join the exotic and exciting life of a travelling mercenary, only to find less excitement, and even more boredom than farm chores and chasing cattle.
Yet, the god of War called, and he followed.
Eladorn has lived in Heldren for the last 15 years or so. A global traveler for many years (where he picked up a few unusual skills, like that with his nodachi), he stumbled upon Heldren and liked its quiet, laid-back attitude. Far from the politics in Taldor's capital, but alert due to the shadow of conflict with Qadira, it was a place that suited him well.
When the snows began to fall in midsummer, only a few days ago, he knew something was wrong, and that Heldren had a vital weakness: an inability to deal with cold. Eladorn immediately headed to Oppara with his companion Shael. They have only just returned with a vital load of winter supplies that are otherwise hard to find in small outposts like Heldren.
A member of the town's hunting lodge, Eladorn is horrified to hear of the zombie infestation Ylosani--so panicked and out of breath--described in the inn.
"I knew it! I knew there was something going on. I'm in; whatever you need me to do. Me and Shael; we'll do for ya."
The stout stag standing behind the hunter snorts at its master's outburst.
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as ylosani comes crashing into the bar scrawny looking man stands up and shoulders his giant hammer.
"The danger is more powerful than we expected but we found it's trail. My companions gave their lives fighting its minions. Who here has the bravery to help me avenge their deaths and end this threat for good?"
'by the lord Apsu this land does indeed need my help. i shall join your cause my Elf friend." he raises up his hammer and yells"may all who join this cause be protected by Apsu light and grace." as he finishes this he slams his hammer down into the floor. when the hammer hit the floor you can feel the walls rattle alittle and you see the boards under the hammer crack and buckle alittle.
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"Sarenrae works in strange ways," mutters a traveler in the corner. He stands and approaches the elf. "I planned to only be passing through. And had to take a break because of this damnable cold. But it sounds like the warmth of Sarenrae is needed here more than where I was headed." He offers Ylosani his hand. "I will join you, friend. Call me Mustafa."
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Maraxus watches without emotion as a bedraggled elf storms into the tavern and yells on and on about danger or something, he was quite agitated and Maraxus had been busy taking a massive pull from his tankard.
No matter, not my business and nobody has hired me for dangerous work yet
He raises an eyebrow in interest as not one but two representatives of the gods immediately offer their services.
"Goody two shoes, not even asking what their help is worth, such foolishness is beneath... " he starts mumbling to himself, but stops mid sentence as he feels the pull . An odd tension in his stomach that the uninitiated may write off as a stray emotion or twinge of anxiety but he knew... he knew that was the call of his god, the call to battle.
Really? This fool's errand?
Yet the pull was still there so, cursing softly to himself, he raises his voice.
"Gorum can't miss a fight like this", with a sigh "my hammer is ready to assist you."
Good thing I packed my warm pants
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Tyrael looks around as 2 others of a god join in the fight."Gorum, Sarenrae, and Apsu the gods must truly be worried about this land if they have sent all of us to come and cleanse this land." tyrael sits down and hands ylosani a mug."tell me friend elf what is your name and what have you seen on this trail that has you so angry and shaken?"
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Ylosani's great fear when he rushed into the tavern was that his pleas would fall on deaf ears. He could not ignore the threat or disregard the need to avenge the deaths of his companions but he knew that he had little chance of doing either by himself.
A sense of complete relief overcame him as several men stepped forward to offer their assistance. And they were not farmers or tradesmen who had more eagerness than skill. They were clearly warriors and, he suspected, men who were favored by their gods and could call upon their deities aid.
Tension drained from him, visibly, his shoulders falling and his face going down.
"I am Ylosani and I thank you all. We were beset at every stage of our journey by dangers. An unnatural beast, elementals, and finally, a hunting lodge full of human minions. We dealt with them easily enough but one amongst them was a necromancer who raised his fellows from the dead. They simply overwhelmed us. But I know with the proper preparation and approach they can be overcome," he says.
"Gather your necessary provisions, including your courage and your wits, for you will need both. We leave first thing in the morning to end this unnatural weather once and for all."
Shaky, exhausted, his adrenaline now spent, the elf seeks out a room to rest for the night, his reverie haunted by the faces and cries of the companions he's so recently lost and the whispers of his bow and ancestor telling him he is a failure and driving him on to succeed.
He had travelled far from the sun kissed lands he hails from but he was driven.
The gods he served drove him on, whispering or demanding or in his own private opinion, mocking him to go on.
Up North the whispers sing.
The land of snow. the dreams urged.
Follow the North Wind. as the cold. Yes every bit of it found its way through the thick furs he bundled himself up to chill him in unmentionable places.
As our will sends you on. Like some infernal contact slamming into his skull everytime he dallies.
Warm Hearth awaits you. Short vivid visions assail his senses of a warm forge slowly beating upon heated metal.
Yes. Leave Absolom for Irrisen. Perfectly normal. All because of the call of the gods, he pushes onwards.
Yes. Really. He loves them all. They love him............he hopes.
He really couldn't be bothered about the hour when he chanced upon the Tavern having spied it from the frozen roads amidst the town.
Slamming upon the door he was just in tim to hear:
"I am Ylosani and I thank you all. We were beset at every stage of our journey by dangers. An unnatural beast, elementals, and finally, a hunting lodge full of human minions. We dealt with them easily enough but one amongst them was a necromancer who raised his fellows from the dead. They simply overwhelmed us. But I know with the proper preparation and approach they can be overcome," he says."Gather your necessary provisions, including your courage and your wits, for you will need both. We leave first thing in the morning to end this unnatural weather once and for all."
And in his mind he hears applause.
Wait......
What?
But....but.....but....He just arrived here.
He groaned even as his chapped lips spit open to speak.
Drawing attention to a slender wisp of a man obviously used to more milder climates down south. Swaddled in Furs, he looks like a helpless babe, his very demeanour presenting one who is more confused then confident but somehow he manages to project an aura of someone blessed by the Gods.
"I am Thorn Slivertip from Absalom and I'm here to help because they said so."
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Newmark closed the book he was studying. The Stone Seers were unusually detailed in their vision. A small vibrate pub in the Taldor village of Heldren. That's where he'd meet his destiny. The headmaster had seemed particularity interested in his studies at Irriseni Bloodstone Conservatory. The headmasters portends indicated that his 7 years of study in the Land of Eternal Winter...may soon show some yet un-revealed value ..in Newmark's life quest.
"I am Ylosani and I thank you all. We were beset at every stage of our journey by dangers. An unnatural beast, elementals, and finally, a hunting lodge full of human minions. We dealt with them easily enough but one amongst them was a necromancer who raised his fellows from the dead. They simply overwhelmed us. But I know with the proper preparation and approach they can be overcome," he says.
"Gather your necessary provisions, including your courage and your wits, for you will need both. We leave first thing in the morning to end this unnatural weather once and for all."
Newmark considers the desperate nature of the elf and swallows a bit of distaste before standing-up.m I'll be coming with ye fey friend ...if you'll have me.
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Maraxus wakes early, as is his custom, and prepares his spells, oils his weapons and armor and heads towards the path.
He casually strolls as he sees his new battle mates making their way to where the elven archer is waiting.
He is fully kitted, bascinet on, aventail tucked into his armor and arranged under his heavy cloak and pack, long haft of his hammer resting on one shoulder.
A simple grunt and head nod of greeting indicates he is ready to travel.
This still seems foolish to just blindly wander into combat without even a hint of discussion about pay. Why do the gods have to be so mysterious all the time?
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Newmark closed his spellbook and let out a puff of chilly air. The Stone Seers were correct...something ill and ominous has darkened this land. What was it they said? Only someone who has studied with the White Witches could understand their ways...Perhaps this un-natural weather was their doing...perhaps not. The Jadwigga seldom traveled far from Irrisen.Besides, the witches Pact magic was powerful...but was it powerful enough to change the weather of an entire nation? Newmark furrowed his brown in frustration of not having answers. Well...that's what we're here to find out...
A few minutes later Newmark found himself outside waiting for the elf to show up at the appointed time. A few of the others were already there. One of them, adjusted his cloak to keep the cold bite of the wind, from stinging his face.....Newmark hardly noticed the weather, his thoughts were hundreds of miles to the north.
Groggy from the previous late night, Thorn casts a spell to help him with the chill. Oh how he missed the Sun Lit lands of the South! However one must go where the gods will and in this case, sigh. They must have thought he was enjoying himself to much and thus sent him here.
Cleaning himself up, he grabs a bite and comes down to meet the others.
"Morning to all of you." He greets the group meeting out front.
Eladorn meets the others outside the inn at dawn, his companion Shael at his side; it seems they slept somewhere else. He seems to be a Heldren local, so that doesn't strike anyone as particularly unusual, except you get the impression that despite the weather, they didn't sleep under any roof....
He nods to all, silently, looking ready to go.
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Despite his eagerness the day before, Ylosani is one of the last ones to arrive at their meeting point. Even when he arrives, he is only half there, his attention obviously somewhere else. His gaze is distant and it takes him a few moments to focus on his new companions.
His relief is obvious for a moment then his expression goes back to being carefully controlled.
"Thank you all for coming. I was afraid that...well, nevermind that. Thank you. If we're all ready, this way. Wait...there was one more wasn't there?" he looks up and down the street for the last volunteer from the day before.
He draws his bow, idly running his fingers over the weathered surface.
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Mustafa awakes before the dawn, as he does most days. He takes a bit of time to praise his goddess and ask her assistance in their coming trials. He then dresses, pulling heavy winter clothing around him and his armor. Satisfied that his weapons are easily within reach, he grabs a bit of breakfast from the inn, tipping the innkeeper, and heads to meet with his new traveling companions. Although they head into danger, the light of dawn fills him with confidence and serenity. An odd lot, perhaps, but they look capable.
"A good day to you all. May the dawn bless our endeavor."
Counting his companions, Thorn shrugs.
"There's six of us. If there's noone else then we must all be here and is it me or all of us under the auspices of the Divine?" after noticing of their somewhat similar attire.
oh come on! his mind rails.
They all have a holy symbol or some sort and It's obviously a gathering sent by the gods. Why else would they be pushing him here?"
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"There's six of us. If there's noone else then we must all be here and is it me or all of us under the auspices of the Divine?"
Newmark considers the Holy-man's words for a moment. Perhaps our penitent friend has a point...Have the Gods sent their servants? Or are these lowly servants trying to prove something to the Gods? Torag doesn't have much use for the weather, underneath his mountain.
I doubt very much the Gods caused this un-natural weather.. announces Newmark. The Gods tend to be even more destructive than this; Newmark turns to point at the falling snow. ... when they manifest fully on Golarion...assuming, we let History guide or suppositions. Newmark taps his forefinger idly on his chin... No me thinks ...me thinks this is something....something altogether different. Newmark looks up at Thorn to study his expression.But enough guessing! Newmark turns Ylosani, Your first companions were killed. You've asked for volunteers to exact vengeance. Five of us have come forth to help you...for one reason or another. Newmark folds his arms in a stubborn posture, across his chest. I think it's time you tell us, exactly what we're up against and how you plan to defeat the enemy!? Newmark gazes intently at Ylosani waiting for a response.
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There is a wry expression on Ylosani's face as he looks at his new companions. Though he reveres one of the gods, he does not have the connection to them that the rest of them do. He does not wear a holy symbol, for one thing.
But he is happy enough to have assistance, no matter whether it was sent by the gods or purely mortal choices.
"We did not see the true source of this unusual weather, at least nothing that we could identify as the source. What we did encounter were undead left behind at the original ambush site and a defender who had been frozen solid."
"From there we were attacked by a strange icy serpentine...thing. Then, at a river crossing there were guardians made of animated ice."
"All those things we could handle but we arrived at a hunting lodge that was full of enemies. We were able to defeat them but as we were investigating the rest of the cabin, we were attacked by some cold undead and while we were dealing with them, a necromancer animated the corpses."
"There were simply too many for us to deal with in such close quarters, but I believe if we approach it properly, we can vanquish them then move on to the true threat," Ylosani explains, giving the quick version of the events that lead him here.
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Maraxus grunts at the elf's story.
"So we have a necromancer and a house full of zombies" presumably your former companions "as known enemies, and still we will need to locate the cause of this unnatural cold."
He ticks points off on his gauntleted fingers as he goes, then finally adding "oh, and find the kidnapped noble lady."
Letting out his breath in a puff of steam he grunts, "Gorum's bloody fist we have some work ahead. Well, off to it then." he finishes with the nonchalance to danger of a seasoned mercenary.
If it was his time to die, he would, else he would fight and win, the fortunes of war were what they were.
As everyone gathers in front of the inn, Eladorn has been slowly and casually strolling around the space in front of the inn, his eyes glancing up and down the road as often as they nod towards someone who's asked a good question. Shael is stationary, but his gaze remains alert, paying the party no mind at all.
"Necromancer. Explains that we have to deal with quite alot of the risen undead then." Thorn comments even as his mind mentally lists Maraxus Keld as Gorum's Chosen based on his words.
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Ylosani nods. "As you all seem affiliated with good aligned gods and they are generally opposed to the undead, I am hoping that your skills and abilities can be put to good use against our foes," he tells them.
He looks to Mustafa and frowns. "We were not able to find the victim's location but we were on the trail."
"Lead on then. We shall see to your fallen comrades first." Thorn urges, wanting not to stay too long lest they proceed to get ideas on pushing him along.
"I agree." Eladorn finally speaks. "We shouldn't dally. The dawn breaks; we are fed and rested."
"The longer we wait, the more time we give our foe to make preparations. I am a member of the hunting lodge you described; I know the way well." Eladorn visually confirms that everyone is ready to leave, and begins heading towards the Border Wood.
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Ylosani is a eager to get moving as any of the rest of them. He follows Eladorn, though not too closely. He knows, firsthand, the dangers in the area and keeps some distance so that he can put the Bow of the Southern Winds to good use.
"I have a few gifts I plan to deliver to the necromancer. I would have given him one already if he had not been hiding behind his animated corpses," he replies to Maraxus, patting his quiver full of arrows.
Eladorn pauses when he reaches the fork. "Ylosani, your tracks are covered by the snow already; I can't tell which way you went the first time. What direction are we headed?"
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Ylosani, your tracks are covered by the snow already; I can't tell which way you went the first time. What direction are we headed?"
Newmark seems a bit irritated by the question, Well you're an experienced woodsman and tracker right?....So find the path and guide us for goodness sake! Newmark blows out a cold puff of air, We all have our talents... Newmark let's that last comment trail off without further elaboration.
"So find the path and guide us for goodness sake!
"I'll happily do that if Ylosani's forgotten the way, but I choose not to waste effort when I have a guide who's gone this way before." Eladorn shakes his head at Newmark's poorly considered suggestion.
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Maraxus smiles behind his visor as the group debates directions and devolves into bickering.
Figuring out which way to go is not his concern, smashing the foes at the end is. He doubted the woodsman would let them get lost so he was not worried.
He idly starts whistling a marching song as he waits, pole hammer resting comfortably across his broad armored shoulders.
"No use fighting now. We're all eagar to go on I suppose." THorn interjects gently.
Wait. Was this why his gods wanted him to come? To play peacemaker? Surely not!
"Your tracks are covered pretty swiftly here, would the eney have prepared other traps perhaps?" in a bid to direct the group to focus on a common foe.
"I think I'm most concerned by the amount of snowfall. This is serious; we're a days ride from a Qadiran desert right now. And we can't find tracks that were left yesterday."
Eladorn looks down both paths, sending Shael a few yards down the right as he steps a few yards down the left. They both return, make a bit of eye contact, and Eladorn makes a suggestion. "Listen; I know my way around these woods. These paths will both take us to the lodge. Let's take the other path, see what we can find that way. Maybe we can learn something about this weather."
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"I think that is a bad idea. I'm certain our enemies have had time to seed the path I took with fresh dangers, but there is at least a chance that we won't encounter any trouble until we get to the lodge. That chance seems smaller on a path that has not been previously cleared. While I do think we need to learn what we can, I also think that the true source of the trouble is beyond the lodge, not along the way," Ylosani says, plainly troubled as he looks down the un-trodden path.