«That’s mighty generous of you, Votun!» says Jorgo as the old witch purchases the extra pair of snowshoes «A definitely owe you a few rounds at the Stoat when we get back with the skins of these monsters!»
Then he makes for the door, unsatisfied with his weaponry «Speaking of which, let’s see what the ol’ Smithy can offer us… wouldn’t mind myself a weapon of the proper metal. M’lady… Sigrun, is it?» he asks the tall woman «maybe they’ll give us a discount if we order two cold iron axes at the same time!» he says as he starts walking towards the smith.
The dwarf got the guy’s sword… Votun’s headbasher is probably better off in the hands of that redhead … me an’ the old man can conjure up our tricks… what about the father? Would he want something too? He wonders as he approaches the smith.
Once he gets to the forge «Ohi, Isker!» he greets the man «How’s business? Must be good, with all these folks scared of winter wolves and bandits, ah? Won’t you have some cold iron weapons to sell old Jorgo for a good price?»
Feeling into his money pouch for the remainder of his travelling money, Kirridell grimaces...
Little enough to survive a month in Helgren, let alone equipping myself against the Fey...
Arriving at the temple, Kirridell announces his arrival but is greeted with silence...
The Elder must be elsewhere...this damnable cold and peoples' fears must be keeping him busy indeed...I shall leave him a note inquiring whether he would be willing to sell either the scroll or the wand...or donate it for a good and honourable cause...
Leaving his note in a prominent location, Kirridell hurriedly makes his way to the Blacksmiths...
I wonder if I will be able to sell my sword in part-exchange for a weapon of cold iron...
Seeing his companions enter the blacksmiths slightly ahead of him, Kirridell shouts out a greeting to them...
Squawk! "Father Kirridell Jinae, I presume!" the raven squawks from its perch on Votun's shoulder as they all approach Isker's Blacksmith.
Isker looks down, even at the tall half-orc, and booms in his "inside" voice, "Ho Jorgo! Business be as good as yours! Your absolutely right, folks is scared half to death with what's out in this unnat'ral winter! I don't have too much left by way of cold iron, had to send Xanthippe to that crazy trader what lives southeast o' here at the single peak to get some more mountain ore. Just south of the Gilded Vale woods." He scratches an armpit thoughtfully, "Come to think of it...she should be back today. Other'n this cold iron handaxe and this cold iron longsword. I'll be able to make somethin' else once Xanthi gets back."
He squints at Jorgo, and the rest, then says, [b]"Well, I can part with axe for twelve gold and the longsword for thirty gold."
"Well, I've got 23 gold left. Jorgo, if you have seven more, we can loan the longsword to Sigrun, and you can carry my Feyswatter. We can settle accounts when we return," Votun offers.
«We’d both be drained dry, old man… didn’t figure you taxpaying Taldori for such generous spenders!» Jorgo scratches his head. «Aye, I can get seven coins… and you know I always liked me the balance of your headbasher. Gorum knows I’m no good with a longblade, but a solid mace I can swing like the best o’ the Roughnecks back west!»
The half-orc grabs his purse and counts seven coins. He looks at his meager finances with a sigh «We better find them bandits, and they better have some stolen riches hidden away for us to grab, or I’d be scraping pans at the Stout in my free time…»
Kirridell arrives at the Blacksmiths to discover his 'friends' already deep in discussion with a man who he assumes to be the proprietor of the premises. Having heard the price of the weaponry and realising it is beyond the reach of his meagre finances, Kirridell tries his hand at negotiation.
"You say twelve gold for the Axe and I agree, that is a fair price...however it is beyond what I, a simple travelling priest of Iomodae, can pay at this time...I would like to make a proposal, if I may?"
Time to see if the Taldans negotiate as hard as the Pirates of the Shackles
"Our exploration of the Border Woods will, we believe, bring us into direct conflict with the Fey...hence my friends' interest in Cold Iron", Kirridell nods at Jorgo and Votun, "I would offer my sword in part exchange for a weapon of Cold Iron but it belongs to my Church....in fact, this very sword has been carried for several centuries by travelling pilgrims such as I"
Kirridell pauses briefly to assess Isker's response...
"If you would be willing to loan me the Cold Iron axe for a reduced price, say six gold?, with a guarantee of returning it upon my return to Helgren, maybe I could do you the service of blessing your forge in the name of Iomodae?"
I could go as far as ten gold but that will leave me nothing for clothes or rations...it is of no use to be protected against the Fey if the cold gets me first. Of course, this sword could be sold, it is no more holy then the shoes I wear but let's see what kind of deal this 'Smith drives...
Kirridell's words are persuasive indeed...years of bargaining in the Shackles had left their indelible mark...but was it enough to sway this Taldan Blacksmith?
"Heh, can't say as our Elder ever offered to bless me forge. Tell ya what, you agree to preside over Xanthi's (someday) wedding too and you can borrow that axe for the cost of repairin' it when you bring it back. Call it four gold upfront."
He scratches his armpit again and looks back at the other two, "An' you shoulda mentioned you were plannin' on takin' care of what's goin' on in those woods. I'll offer the same deal, call it ten gold upfront. An' you got to promise to COME to Xanthi's wedding, whenever it happens."
"Well done, Isker." Votun says counting the ten gold from his coin purse.
Looking to the three others, "All ready? Let's rally at the Stoat." He doesn't wait for a reply and heads out with Munin perched on his shoulder.
Kirridell smiles at the kind offer, "I would, of course, be honoured to preside over Xanthi's wedding"
Let's hope that the Elder is not too offended by this...
Reaching into his money pouch, Kirridell takes four pieces of gold and hands them to Isker, "You are a fair man and an ally to Justice...may Iomodae smile upon you". Taking the axe in his hands, Kirridell assesses the weight and balance of this unfamiliar weapon...
It will serve, when the time comes...
"I will return before we depart for the Border Woods and perform the ceremony of Iomodae's blessing", Kirridell smiles at the blacksmith and then, nodding to Jorgo and Votun, "Gentlemen, I have business to attend to at the General Store, I propose we meet at the Silver Stoat within the hour?"
With that, Kirridell pulls his jacket around his neck and steps out into the snow...
Squawk!
Jorgo keeps the door open for his companions to reenter the Silver Stoat.
«Ah, Colberg! » he greets the dwarf. «We are ready now, you restless piece of work!» he gets closer to the dwarf «Sorry about Tess – didn’t mean to make you nervous – but better safe than sorry with her, believe you me. She can mix nitrates and sulfur like Asmodeus himself! »
Then he turns towards the counter «Kale! Kale, you marvelous taldori rose, you’re wasted behind that counter! How ‘bout a last round on the house before we head for the woods?» yells Jorgo, with clear intention of having the whole tavern hear him «We’ll come back with some pretty wolves’s pelts and the bandits’ hands in a bag, you’ll see!» he roars enthusiastic and optimistic.
While his companions get the last pieces of equipment to deal with the weather, the half-orc settles in a corner of the tavern, opens up a small book and mixes the content of a couple of vials. Then packs everything back the way it was and stands up. «So! Are we ready?»
«Sorry about Tess – didn’t mean to make you nervous – but better safe than sorry with her, believe you me. She can mix nitrates and sulfur like Asmodeus himself! »
Colberg doesn't look up from the map and responds in a slower pace than normal, "'S all good, as long as I ain't gonna be gettin blown up in mah sleep." He scrawls a few more thing thins on the map and then turns to acknowledge the Half-orc who is already address the bar maid. Ah well, he don't look ready to leave yet. I'll tell him later
"AYE! So we all ready ta go and get some witches?! Colberg unfurls is wrinkly map on the table and points to several areas on the map, "These are all areas that I believe bandits could be hiding, the closest several of which are probably in out interest to check out first. However, Kale tells me that the High Sentinel Lodge is probably already looking for the bandits and likely has some information that could help us. I think we should go there first and see what they have to say about it." Colberg looks around the table then sits down.
When Votun arrives his cloak and wide-brimmed, pointed hat go on the same hooks near the hearth and Munin flies to his perch. He settles on to his regular stool at the bar.
"Master Dwarf. That sounds like a good plan. An alternative would be to start from the Dansby farm. Bandits have been thieving there. Since the High Sentinels are much more dangerous than farmers, I suspect the bandits would be more prepared against the Lodge than the Dansby's"
The door of the Silver Stoat swung open another time, letting in a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow, Kirridell slammed the door behind him and apologetically smiled at those customers of the tavern who had stared reproachfully at his, somewhat frigid, entrance. Seeing Jorgo, the Dwarf and the elderly Human sitting together, he places an order for something warming at the bar and sits with his erstwhile companions.
“Gentlemen, how have your preparations gone? Are you ready to venture forth and, more pertinently, where should we focus our search?”
Indicating that he is ready, if not even a little impatient to leave, Kirridell continues, “I have performed my blessing at the Blacksmiths, have offered a prayer to Iomodae at the Temple and am ready. Every minute we tarry, is another minute that the Lady Argentea’s life remains in peril”.
Jorgo puts the vials in his belt and makes for the door «I agree, Dansby’s nearer and we should at least pass by before going deep into the woods!» he weights Feyswatter in his hand, trying to get used to the feeling of the weapon.
«I can be the vanguard – I know the woods as well as anyone else, and I’m just dying to throw some o’ the hot stuff on some creepy winter monster!»
"Aye, Yer prolly right Old man, the bandits likely be ready fer the sentinels. 'Cept we don't have no clue where exactly the bandits be." Colberg points to all the spots he has marked on the map. "The sentinels might though, doubt Dansby knows where they'd be."
"I say we check in on Dansby on the way to the High Sentinel's Lodge...maybe he can tell us something of use and, at the very least, with what we know about the Woods, we should check on his safety", Kirridell continues...looking at Votun with the slightest touch of sarcasm in his voice, "...then we can see what your taxes are paying for at the Lodge"
"I do not know the area as well as you all so I trust wherever you decide." Sigrun says as she buckles the Cold Iron Longsword onto the hip.
"Iomodae would see me using a sword...it is a weapon of justice and honour...but given the choice, I think maybe our friend here", gesturing at the Dwarf, "would be best served by use of the Cold Iron Blade"
As you are walking on the road towards Dansby's farm, you notice the air getting cooler and you begin to see a light dusting of snow here and there. About a mile from the farm and half a mile from the Border Woods you see he road ahead littered with debris and the corpses of slain
humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. To the south, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a statue of ice. A snowy trail leads deeper into the forest.
At the sight of the atrocity before them, Kirridell, sickened by the apparent brutality of the attack, mutters a prayer to Iomodae...commending those who have worshipped Iomodae into her care and promising justice for all who have been slain...
With his sword drawn and ready, Kirridell surveys the scene for any survivors...
He whispers to his travelling companions, "Keep your eyes open...for survivors... or for trouble"
«Oh this is just…» Jorgo covers his mouth with the gloved hand, in a moment of shock. Then grabs his axe, just to be prepared.
«Oh gods… I probably had an ale with this guy last week…» he wanders through the slaughter, keeping his eyes open for a still present danger or for a survivor that he can help.
You notice the carriage that is still standing has a spear wedged into the handles to effectively "lock" the doors shut. There are marks of Taldan heraldry and damage from many arrows. You think you can hear some muffled sound from inside the carriage.
The further carriage, knocked on its side, is wrecked and the door is missing.
The bodies you see leave no mistake, there are no survivors here. Tiny needles and puncture holes you can't seem to identify mark most of the bodies. They have all been stripped of armor and weapons.
Colberg lets out a long guttural sigh upon seeing the bodies, "Guess we were too late for this."
He moves up to the wreckage and touches one of the people to see if it is still warm and approximately how long it has been dead.
He then moves over to the statue to see what it is and how long it has been here. (Based on temperature and how much is melted)
Finally Colberg starts circling the camp looking for tracks or clues to what caused this and where they are headed.
He does all this in calculated silence as though on autopilot.
Colberg's check of the bodies show that they've been dead for some time, maybe a few days. The chill in the air (just above freezing) has kept the bodies from decomposing much and driving off the bugs and animals that would normally feast. He still can't tell what the puncture wounds might be, other than they are round shaped.
The statue contains most of a body encased in ice. Judging by the crest you can see on his breastplate through the ice, he is some sort of mid-ranked officer of the Taldan nation. Pieces of the frozen body are at the feet of the statue, one of which is an arm with a longsword. The ice is slowly melting, but you can't tell exactly how long as you are not sure when how long the air has been this cold. You would guess the man was made as an example around the time the rest of the people here were slain.
The trail leads off to the south, towards the Border Wood. You note many tracks of feet and a solid trail of something being dragged. It is an obvious trail that will take pretty much no skill to follow.
Votun surveys the wreckage wondering if he remembers anything useful. He launches Munin to the top tree (M7).
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The small puncture wounds on the bodies remind you of a particular type of winter magic related to icicles. Although the size and amount of holes on any given body are too small and too many to be the normal spell you know of...
Your attempt to remember anything about the Taldoran nobility or local people here bring nothing more to your mind.
"Can someone reach that carriage? Something is making noise in there. Treated it as a threat until proven wrong." Votun says.
Munin perches near the top of the snow-covered pine tree and surveys the field.
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There are a few seeds but no worms to eat that you see :)
Sigrun moves forward, her face expressionless, familiar with the sight of raids and more brutal attacks. As she scans the area, she searches for both signs of where the attackers may have come from or gone to, her mind trying to discern the intent of the attacked by their actions.
As Votun indicates the noise coming from the wagon, the warrior maiden makes her way over towards it, drawing her axe as she removes the spear.
«These poor bastards have been dead for days…» comments Jorgo «There’s little hope that whatever’s still moving in the carriage is a survivor. Still… that spear looks weird…»
The half-orc walks towards the carriage, the axe in hand. When he gets a few feet from it he stops and knocks on the door with axe handle, hard enough to be heard from inside. Then he says in a powerful voice «Ohi, in the carriage! If you can understand what I’m saying, groan three times!»
He takes a step back and raises the axe in striking position.
The door pops open and a pair of zombies inside groan menacingly at you...three times.
Jorgo's axe barely misses the first zombie.
The sudden explosion in violence as the zombies climb from the toppled wagon stops Kirridell's quiet contemplation of the fallen. Moving to a position near Jorgo, the good father holds his symbol of Iomodae aloft and calls forth the divine judgement of his goddess...
Votun steps up and gives the first zombie he sees the Evil Eye.
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Squawk! Munin starts eating some small pine cones on top of the snow-covered pine tree and continues to survey the field.
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Oooo, you spot a fieldmouse scurrying along the ground! :) Nothing else new to see.
