The date is 4713 AR on Oathday, 17th Earstus at 12:00 pm - current moon cycle: new moon
The location is Heldren - The Silver Stout
The sleepy village of Heldren has rarely seen so much excitement or concern. Hunters from the nearby Border Wood speak of unnaturally cold weather at the height of summer that descended on the forest just days ago. Heavy snow followed, and those who returned spoke of an uneasy presence in the woods, as well as new, dangerous predators. No one knows what this event means, but the town’s soothsayer, Old Mother Theodora, claims dark times lie ahead.
As if in proof of that dire prophecy, a badly wounded mercenary arrived in town yesterday, claiming to be a bodyguard of Lady Argentea Malassene. He told the village council that the noblewoman’s escort came under attack by bandits and strange, wintery creatures near the edge of the Border Wood. He alone escaped, and Lady Argentea was dragged away into the forest. Now the townsfolk cast fearful eyes toward the snowy forest, worried what else might emerge to threaten their peaceful village.
Diplomacy
Asrick Swain
Mina Javid
Rikiru
Rerdahl Tollan
Lore Each Character Gathered:
Old Man Dansby claims that someone keeps stealing from his fields. His farm lies closest to the Border Wood, where half his crops have died from an icy frost and the rest have been carried off.
A farmer's son took ill a few days ago after falling through the ice over Wishbone Creek. The boy said he spotted a white stag in the forest-and heard it talking-then tried to follow it.
A group of rangers in the Border Wood called the High Sentinels usually keep bandit activity curbed. They're doing a poor job if brigands could attack a well-armed caravan and abduct Lady Argentea.
Asric tried to suppress a shiver that ran up his back. Despite the unseasonable weather, he wasn't cold. He didn't get cold all that often. No, this was something different. His grandmother would have said someone had just walked across his grave.
He looked around the tavern. He'd been here a couple of days, wondering which way he should go next. Normally, he felt a sort of pull, like he was being led somewhere. But he hadn't experienced that feeling for a couple of days. Perhaps that was the cause of his uneasiness, but he doubted it.
The town was on edge. There were all sort of rumors going around, about the weather, about the Border Wood. And now a missing Lady. First chance I get, I'm gonna talk to that guard and see what's up. If some brigands are about, perhaps he could help me try to deal with them.
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When Rerdahl arrived in town it was obvious that things weren't normal. This was a small town, quiet but suspicious of strangers. He asked around and got unexpected responses. A noblewoman's escort attacked and the Lady taken? A giant white weasel? He asks direction and heads to the tavern to ask and listen to word. While he had planned to get farther away from Zimar, he could continue his departure after finding out what was going on...
Entering the tavern he requests a drink, then moves around talking to the locals, buying a drink or two if needed to help a conversation, focusing on the strange tales told. Maybe someone has a clue about where the bandits might be? He also looks for other travelers, people in armor or carrying packs and weapons that make them stand out in the crowd. If none were present he finds a table and requests a quick meal. If bandits did indeed take the Lady as a prisoner they intend to keep her alive. I can find some help after eating and be less hungry.
"Have you a bit of stew or something to warm a soul? I'd like a quick bite along with my ale"
One thing he'd learned in his travels was there was rarely the refreshing snap of cold any further south than Varisia. What southlanders called winter was usually warmer than a bright spring afternoon where he was from. He'd gotten more stares from them by forgoing his coat and trying to enjoy the mild weather than almost anything else he'd done. Not including having to explain why his 'wand' was so loud to people who'd never heard of alchemy before.
The small caravan he'd been a part of had holed up for the day, trying to warm chilled appendages before heading further north. Maybe stock up on better furs. Rhone considered the whole idea hilarious. Things weren't going to get warmer in the north. Still, he'd never heard of such chilled weather here before and had changed after hearing about the snows catching the wood. No sense is being caught in an untimely blizzard in thin pants, after all.
What bothered him most were the stories the drovers told after going for more feed. Talking stags. Bandits on the road attacking armed caravans. He'd heard those stories before. Lived them, in fact. So he'd gathered his gear and headed for the inn, intent on getting more information from the locals. Maybe enjoy a pint of decent beer (though he doubted they made it thicker than water here) before he decided to do something stupid like go poking about in an nonseasonal frost.
As he entered he dropped his pack and long coat on a small table before taking the first seat not attached to a grumpy horse or lumpy campsite in what felt like five hundred miles. Pulling his pipe, he set tipped his hat gently at the server as she passed, "Could use an ale and maybe whatever's warm and you recommend, if you don't mind." Almost as an after-thought he holds up a hand to stop her, "By the way, is there a town guard about? Heard some things on the way in. I'd love to pick their brain."
The location is Heldren - The Silver Stout
Kale responds to Rerdahl, "Yes we do have our finest stew cooking now. I will get you a bowl. I will be right back with that ale."
She begins to move to the back of the tavern but is stopped by Rhone. She listens to his first request and responds. "Yes sir, would stew be fine it's all we got? I'll get you a bowl." After your second question she answers again, "We don't have town guards. Oh are you talking about that Ulfen man they just carried in yesterday. I think they said he was with the Taldan guard escorting some lady. We haven't really heard much more than that. I will be back with your food shortly." She continues to move to the back of the tavern and out of sight.
He gave her a friendly nod as she turned to leave, even reaching up to tap the brim of his hat before she vanished into the rear for the drink and food. But the mention of an Ulfen guard soured the taste in the back of his mouth. So much so that he stuffed his pipe and lit it without slowing to hopefully drown the taste out.
He was no fan of the southlander Ulfen. He'd heard enough stories of the kind of mercenaries who fled south to play wet nurse to summer-kings and their ilk. Enough that if a few Ulfen guard were kicked in the teeth during a snowy summer in the south he'd call it pure irony. Also enough that the draw of tobacco and the thought made him smile.
So he took a long draw of his pipe and settled in, thinking he may take a bit longer to poking around at tales of talking animals in the frost. Might be hags up to mischief, or it may be the Ulfen finally got what was coming their way. So he exhaled smoke and spoke mostly to himself, "Guess I'll eat and go ask that gleidr blot some questions, then."
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Rerdahl watches and listens as the obviously non-local human settles in for a drink and bowl of stew. He doesn't much like the smell of the burning weed so he waits to see which way the smoke moves and approaches from the other side, bringing his bowl and cup. "Mind if I join you sir? I'm a traveler too as you appear to be, and also concerned about the strange goings on. Ice and snow are likely a centennial oddity around here and easily worth concern. Maybe the Lady's guard has more word that hasn't made it to local gossip?"
He sits, hopefully not waved away by the man, "Rerdahl Tollan's the name. I know a little of arcana and alchemy."
Rikiru was pleased by the rather cordial welcome of Heldren folk; some settlements had greeted him shrieks or pointed weapons; here the worst he'd received was a derisive look or a snide comment about talking rodents. It was refreshing.
The scent of cooking vegetables drew a slight growl from his midsection; he put a hand on his stomach and smiled. time to eat, then. A quick look into his pack left him plenty of rations, but a scratch of his chin and shrug saw him heading once more to the Silver Stout for a bowl of stew. To his surprise he'd acquired a taste for the simple northern fare, though he missed the cuisine of so many places he'd been.
Upon entering he scans the tavern for a server, only to stop his gaze on spotting something unexpected: another of his kind! He turns and heads for the table, observing the conversation. As he hops up into a chair with a smile he offers the bow he learned from Tian lands years ago.
"Greetings, cousin. I am Rikiru. I had not thought to meet another Nezumi this far north. Most prefer warmer weather, yes?"
Not one, but two of the ratfolk?! Hmm, this is interesting. Perhaps this is the sign I have been awaiting.
Asric stands up from his chair and approachs the table where the ratfolk have joined another man. "Pardon me, I do not mean to seem rude. I have never seen one of your kind," he says indicating the ratfolk, "let alone two. Do you mind if I join you? I would like to learn more about your people."
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Rerdahl chuckles as another ratfolk sits. "Greetings Rikiru. I am Rerdahl Tollan. We probably shouldn't talk like family though around humans. Can't be sure that they'd know that we aren't actually family!"
"I'm actually from another village near here. It's usually quite comfortable. The freezing temperatures, ice and snow are quite strange. Personally it doesn't bother me much though. My mother was from the frozen north of Irrisen. I don't like the cold, but it doesn't sink in to my bones as quickly as others"
When the other traveler approaches he looks him up and down. "Well, the table was originally held by the man here. He didn't object when I sat but I can't just accept for him. Pardon me sir but you don't look quite human. I was just commenting to Rikiru here that most humans couldn't tell on ratfolk from another, but I'm curious about your appearance."
He hesitates just a moment thinking, "I guess that could be rude too. I hope you don't mind....
Asric blushes a bit. "Not at all. The circumstances of my birth are a bit of an oddity. Though my parents look like normal humans, I apparently favor an ancestor from the Shadow Plane. I, umm, have yet to discover which ancestor that might be." He shrugs. "One cannot really help how one is born, yes?"
He remains standing until the gentleman grants him permission to sit. "Forgive me. My name is Asric." He extends his hand to any who would greet him. "You say you are a local? Do you have any clue as to what is going on with the weather? Or perhaps any information on this injured caravan guard?"
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Rerdahl motions for Asric to sit. "Don't stand on formalities. While the silent one here hasn't said for any of us to sit, he also hasn't told us to move. It's really a case of permission granted by silence."
"As to the weather or the caravan guard, I haven't any information on either that I haven't heard in the gossip.The snow and ice are very odd for here at any time of the year. As for the caravan guard, I was thinking that we could all go to speak with him once we have a meal. If he was wounded he should be with the local healer. We'll just have to ask directions and I'm sure anyone can direct us."
"I did also hear that a local hunter thought he saw a giant white weasel, an animal that is not native to these lands. He's out trying to trap it now to prove himself. I hope he survives. If we do head in to the woods and he isn't back, perhaps we can scout the high ridge and try to find him. "
One oddity after the next seemed to fill this small cluster of roofs in the middle of chilled summer nowhere. Primarily the sudden appearance of not one, but a pair of ratfolk. Even as one asked to sit he could only wave to the seat before another appeared, causing an amused memory of the old adage about the speed rats could multiple to jump forth. He smiled around the stem of his pipe in his teeth as he exhaled a waft of smoke even as the two started to talk.
What came next was a man who favored what he supposed a man made of Ustalav pipe weed burnt as brush may look like. Wispy black smothered inside skin to make a man who looked more akin to a piece of night sky struggling to emerge from the shell of a human being. He'd seen plane-touched and ratfolk before, often times sprinkled as travelers along the roads or people coming to the north looking for something better. Though the last time he saw a pair of ratfolk together who weren't related somehow was a strange little cluster of alchemists out of Numeria peddling pieces of some 'iron mountain' they swore unlocked the secrets of the world.
With all of them taking seats he scooped his pack and coat away, tossing them down next to his chair and relaxing in, figuring if they were up for gossip he was up to listen. Still, he turned to the first of the small ones who appeared and extended his hand, "Rhone of Averaka."
Pulling the pipe free after the handshake he narrows his eyes and waves the pipe stem, "What's this about a white weasel? Already heard about a talking stag in the area. Not that this place should see anything close to snow except in a bard's bad salt-show, now there's northern game roaming the summerlands?" He leaned back in his chair, taking another draw of his pipe with a sour look, "Did I bump my head and wake up in Varisia?"
"Giant arctic weasels, talking white stags, unseasonably cold weather, and travelers from far and wide. Gentlemen, I don't believe in coincidence. What I do believe is that there is something going on here, and that it is no accident that we have met. Let us finish this meal and then make some more formal inquiries." With that, he flags down Kale for a bit of stew for himself. No sense going into the unknown on an empty stomach.
Listening to the planes-touched he couldn't help but take a long draw from his pipe before adjusting his hat on his head, settling in for what he assumed was going to be an entertaining event. Two rat-men and a rather earnest man who smelled of unblinking devotion to something all together fanatical. Maybe it was a sin in his past he was trying to atone for, or a general drive to be the good person the world might need. He didn't know. But at least he didn't foam at the mouth when he talked about it, so that was a bonus from what he'd seen before.
Instead he exhaled a lung of smoke and shrugged at the gathering, "Summer frost, especially here, mixed with northern game and fey creatures roaming free?" He pointed a finger at Asric with a grin on his face, "Bet you a bottle that who, or whatever is doing this has something to do with a hag of some form or another. Damn things were thick as last season's preserves in the north at one point before we drove them through the Path of Aganhei."
Plopping the pipe back between his teeth he grinned, "Last I heard the Tian traders were picking up where we left off and turning in crone heads for gold dragons back home." Taking a pull he let a smoke grin peek through, "Or maybe those Ulfen finally pissed off their ancestors enough to send some fey after them for serving a summer-king. Either way it should be interesting."
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Rerdahl turns his attention to his stew, quickly finishing it before it has a chance to get cold. "Sounds like we are like minded. Let's finish our stew and go ask about the guardsman. Unlike the stag and weasel, I believe he is still in town. If he can point us in the right direction we might get a glance at things before nightfall."
"If there's actually ice I might want to look around for some warmer clothing. Maybe the local merchant has something to fit a teenage human that could be made to work?"
Mina had only recently managed to scrounge up enough money to travel south from her unexpected "exile" in Irrisen, yet it seems like the cold weather had followed her down here! Frozen crops, a white stag ... and rumors of cold magic. None of that boded well.
And now the apparent kidnapping of a noblewoman. There wasn't much that she could do about it, at least not alone.
Today, she sits in the Silver Stout, sipping hot tea that Menander had just brought over. (Menander always went out of his way to bring Mina her meal and drink. Kale, his wife, stared daggers at Mina. The usual reaction.) "Thank you, Menander," she says with a languid smile. "I appreciate it."
Not too far away, she spotted an interesting-looking quartet forming at a table: a fair-skinned human with a longcoat and a pipe, a very dark-skinned human -- no, something else, planetouched, perhaps? -- and two ratfolk. While she couldn't hear everything they were saying, words like "white stag" and "unseasonably cold" caught her attention.
She slid off her seat and strolled over. "Good day, boys. Sorry to interrupt." She smiles warmly and says, "I couldn't help overhearing you mention this ridiculously cold weather. I have some expertise in that area if you're looking to warm things up around here. You can call me Mina."
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As the lovely lady strolls over and introduces herself to the group, Rerdahl almost feels actual warmth. If she was just a little shorter, and had fur, and a snout, and a tail.... "Hello Mina. I am Rerdahl Tollan. Yes, we were discussing some of the strange occurrences. None of us are from this town but I am from near here and the word of snow and ice in the forest is a concern."
"We were about to go and try to find the caravan guard to see what he might be willing to tell us that local rumor hasn't already provided. Then I was thinking that I might check out the general store for some warmer clothing, and perhaps check at the armory to see if they have a crossbow small enough for me to use. The weaponry I have doesn't really lend itself to longer ranges like might be needed if we need to do any hunting, say for a giant white weasel...."
Rikiru cants his head slightly at the sight of new arrivals, smiling to himself as the group grows ever more diverse. The idea of a hunt makes her ears perk up.
"A hunt, is it? I have something for that." He lifts a small tube from his outfit, placing it to his lips for a moment. "It is no longbow, but if I am close enough, it will most certainly do."
As the woman stepped forward he could only watch as she eyed them. The kind of eyes that slithered over you in some fashion or another. He'd seen those kinds of looks, and most of them came from the type who wanted something you had or expected you to do something for their benefit. Considering the odd company she was keeping close by it wasn't a stretch to guess as to which was which.
But all the same as she introduced herself he reached up and tapped the brim of his hat, "Ms. Mina."" Yet he watched the way the light played on her all the same. Like watching something otherworldly slink about with all the inhuman casualness that came with it. Even through the small haze of pipe smoke he could see a glint of something else in her appearance that was just human enough to entice, but just otherworldly enough to be worth noting.
When the smaller folk began to talk about hunting from a distance it didn't take long for one to pull a small tube from his pack and slap it on the table. Something he'd expect from less advanced natives, to be honest. But the group he was with seemed to be the 'meet it head on' type to begin with. He was more partial to stopping power and maybe causing some terror while he was at it.
With a grin he raised an eyebrow at the weapon, "Well isn't that... unique."
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Rerdahl glances at the strange weapon the other ratfolk has, "If a creature gets close enough for that I could probably use my spear, or dagger, or my magic. But in the woods I would prefer to keep my distance if possible. But if the woods are dense enough close weapons may be all I could use."
"Are we all ready to go check on the guard?"
Asric has never seen anyone who looked quite like Mina. But he's also never seen one of the ratfolk up close, so today was looking like a day of firsts. "It's possible this problem could use all the help it can get," he says to the lady as he offers her his hand.
"Yes, let's go check on the guard. And we will be sure to stop by the town merchants before we investigate the outskirts of town. It won't do to have anyone getting frostbite."
As it seemed the others were intent on questioning the Ulfen in question, he wasn't one to stand in the way. Instead he upended his pipe and stamped out the embers on the bottom of his boot, making sure to keep it clean for later. Stowing it he pulled the pistol from the cross draw on his left hip and snapped the small release at the side to check his powder was loaded and ready before slipping it back into it's holster and standing.
Scooping up his gear he slid into his long coat and secured the warm vest before slipping on his pack and tucking his gloves into his belt, "Whatever a warm-weather Ulfen may say assaulted him? Probably best to cut those numbers in half. If he claims it was an army, it was probably two rather cross halflings with sturdy pots." Adjusting his hat in case the wind had picked up he gave the group a smile, "Not that it would take two, but I assume the Lady probably required more of a challenge if she was taken."
With a gentle tip of his hat towards the patrons he turned for the door and to find the guard.
"That's adorable," says Mina with apparent sincerity after Rikiru places the blowgun on the table. She places a hand on the ratfolk's shoulder. "Do you use poison with that? You must use poison with that, yes?"
After Rhone gets up and heads for the door, she adds to Rikiru, "We can chat about this on the way. Let's go!"
She also leaves to find the guard.
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"We need to know where the guard might be. Wandering the town randomly will waste time."
Rerdahl looks around for Menander or Kale Garimos. If he can find either he approaches, "Do you have any suggestions about where we might find the guard from the caravan that was attacked? We'd like to help but don't know where we would find him."
The couple look at each other then shurg. Kale responds, "I don't think we asked. Did you check with Tessaraea at the Apothecary? She's good with herbs and remedies." They both nod at each other.
"Well then, let's head there."
Rikiru smiles up at Mina as the group begins to move off. "The blowtube? It can use poisons, yes. I have none now, but if aimed well enough it most certainly can kill." A glint in his eyes punctuates the final word. His ears perk up at the mention of the apothecary visit and he follows along, happy to have interesting new company and something to occupy his mind. "I wonder if this apothecary might trade some useful doses for a service or two?"
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
A well-tended garden sits in front of this equally neat house, the home of Tessaraea Willowbark (female elf), Heldren's resident apothecary. Tessaraea is a relatively new transplant to Heldren, having arrived in the village only 25 years ago after a failed adventuring career up north in the River Kingdoms.
When you knock on the door, someone answers. Tessaraea opens the door and greets you, "Good afternoon, how can I help you today?"
Asric steps forward. "Good day, miss. We were wondering if we could take a look at your wares and perhaps ask a question or two." Asric has found that many merchants tend to look more favorably upon those who purchase goods from them, or at least look like they will.
After they've made their purchases, he asks, "We had also heard about a lady being overrun by bandits. Someone said one of her guards was here. Do you know where he would be recuperating? We would like to see if there's something we could do to help."
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
Tessaraea opens the door wider and welcomes you in. ”Yes, you may come in. I do have some alchemist fire prepared .” She accepts your payment. "I don't really have any potions made today except for a potion of resist energy for cold for only 300 gp.”
Tessaraea responds to your second inquiry. "Oh yes, they did bring him here. He is sleeping at the moment but I think he might be healthy enough to talk. Let me check with him, one moment." Tessaraea walks past a curtain and after a few minutes returns. "He is awake and very eager to talk to someone who will help, follow me." She pushes back the curtain and steps into the back room again.
As you follow you see a man that seems to be badly frostbitten. Yuln Oerstag
Asric gasps seeing the man's condition. He had no idea the man was this bad off. Regaining his composure, he asks, "Sir, are you able to tell us what happened? What attacked you?"
Mina follows the group into Willowbark Apothecary and looks around at the wares. After hearing Tessaraea's reply to Asric about the wounded guard, she accompanies them into the back room.
Her eyes open wide. "Severe frostbite... here?!" she whispers. She leans back against a wall and listens for Yuln's reply.
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
Yuln responds to Asric, "We thought they were just bandits at first-outlaws who hide like wolves in the forest. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey of the north. They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of the winter-touched all the time, but I never expected to meet them this far south.”
"Fey from the North?" says Mina with some concern. "Did it seem like they were specifically going after her Ladyship?"
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
Yuln shifts in the bed making small grunts until he answers Mina, “I don't know. But if one of the White Witches took her, no good shall come of it. The winter-touched do nothing without the leave of those who placed the ice in their hearts. If they're here, it's because a White Witch sent them. And much worse will follow.”
There's a certain amount of distrust for Ulfen who stray too long from home in the name of coin. Most northern kingdoms cheer for the prospect of quick raids and easy targets with fat purses and things easily taken in their wake. And while Rhone had grown up apart from that shortsightedness, he hadn't grown up apart from the stigma that came of being a northman who forgets his northern roots.
Understanding what it was and moving past it being two different things, he couldn't help but have some mirth at the idea of the other Ulfen suffering from frostbite and the beating he'd taken. Some small part of him delighted in it, even if he knew he shouldn't. The same part of him wanted to doubt he'd remember what a northern fey would even look like. Probably bested by the much maligned magic of some sorcerer who left his ego more beaten than his bruised and bitten flesh.
And fey rarely worked in concert with humans unless a higher power was at work, or so his father always said.
Sliding his thumbs behind the buckle of his belt he nudged his chin at the Ulfen, "Where did the bandits take your Lady, summer-born?"
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
Yuln notices the sudden crowd in the room. "Into the forest, back through the ice and snow. Beyond that, I don't know. I followed as far as I could, but the winter-touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped, and rode to seek help here.”
"That is indeed distressing. I'm afraid the hunt will have to wait, Rerdahl. This takes precedence. Yuln, can you direct us to where you were attacked?"
I hope one of these people is a good tracker. It may be difficult in this snowfall.
"Ah, we should also grab some winter gear before setting out."
Rikiru's eyes dart over the ulfen's harrowing condition, a note of concern stealing over his face. "I had planned to travel far north enough to see some snow, but this..." He scratches his chin a moment before a slight smirk emerges.
"...This should prove to be far more intriguing."
and rewarding, if we can be rescuers to some sort of noblewoman...
The location is Heldren - Willowbark Apothecary
Yuln tells you about the location. "Follow the road south until you reach the trail that leads into the Border Wood. That is where we were attacked, there on the road."