Avora returns the affection when the big Ulfen leans in close, though the kiss is somewhat clumsy, as if she were uncertain yet. Still, she does not resist.
Bugsby’s bolt flies swift and true across the chasm. The fae notices a split second too late and it impales the tiny creature in the gut. The Fae’s wings continue to flutter for a moment as it tries to stave off death, but soon, it falls to earth, unmoving.
Far below, turbulent waters of the Timber Creek River surge through a couple of waterfalls far below, the rush of the water the only thing preventing the ice from completely covering the river.
The demon radiates palpable evil as Sven focuses on the demon's aura.
Sven hears the demons joints popping as he slowly crushes the creature with his bare hands. Blood begins to ooze from one of its ears and its breathing comes in raspy coughs as it begins drowning in its own blood.
Ankih struggles to keep his head above water as he is swept downstream, making no progress toward the salvation of the rocks. The fae hovering above the water fires a hastily aimed arrow at the slayer of his kin, but the shard of wood and ice flies wide of the gnome sniper. The demon thrashes about and manages to wriggle free of Sven’s grasp. His triumph is short lived as when he tries to flee, Lachna swats him from the sky, breaking its back and knocking him into a distant tree.
The remaining Fae looks at his kin, and his leader, and mutters a tiny”uhoh” as the entire groups eyes turn toward him.
Bugsby gets a mischievous look in his eye as he turns towards the last fey, quickly reloading his crossbow then clapping his hands together in front of his face, then blowing through the middle of his hands towards the creature, aiming to keep it from moving.
Sarenrae must be watching over her chosen, because the rope lands directly onto Ankih’s splashing form, enabling him to easily grab the rope before he gets swept off the falls. Above, Sven feels the rope go taunt, allowing him to begin slowly reeling in his second catch of the day.
The creature doesn't seem to register Bugsby tried to affect him with a spell, it's eyes affixed on the location his leader landed.
Ankih panics as he hits the water, floundering with no real thought as to how to save himself. He hears garbled words above, and flails about trying to grab something.
My dearest Goddess I fear I may join you soon... Water soo cold it hurts... water everywhere... rocks... FALLS!!!!! I pray that I saved Kalt before I fell Milady. I come to you....ROPE!! grab it fool... can't feel my fingers do I have it? Do I?"
Finally he feels the tug as the rope goes taught in his hand and begins to slowly wind him back to the cliff against the current.
As he is pulled up the cliff he hacks and coughs to expel the icy fluid in his chest.
" Hughff...Hughff.. T-Thank y-y-ou Mil-lady. And-d You S-Sven-n... I-I Nev-ver Learn-ned t-to swim-m."
Lachna looks around, clearly torn over what to do. One in the water, two on the ground, and the last fey still hovering by the bridge. She begins to feel a bit helpless and locked in indecision. Finally, after much thought, she goes to stand over Avora, doing her best to shield the fallen druid, hoping that any arrows which may have found their way in her direction will bounce of Lachna's shield instead.
Kalt boldly lies unconscious. Heroically, even.
The remaining fae finally tears its eyes from it's fallen lead, and seeing the two party members felled by their magics beginning to stir, decides to beat a hasty retreat, zipping low over the snow and darting around snow drifts and bushes.
Kalt rolls over onto his back and puts a hand tentatively to his forehead. "Wha...? What happened? By the gods, my head hurts! Did Lachna hit me with that hammer of hers?" He lifts his head from the snow and looks around, eventually looking across the ravine as Sven calls out to him. "What are you all doing across the bridge? Oh! Wait. I'm across the bridge. So why are you all still back there?"
Getting unsteadily to his feet, he looks more closely at what his companions are doing, and realizes there's been quite a fight. "Wow. Bjornson, I feel like that time I pissed off the barmaid in that little dusty town on the west end of the border with Galt. She slipped some kind of ground-up flowers into my beer, told me it was the local specialty. I was out like a snuffed candle and completely missed the fight you and the boys managed to start.". He cradles his head for a quiet moment, then continues, "though I don't think my head hurt quite so bad that time. Is everyone okay over there? You ready to try the icy dance across the bridge? I say we try what we did at the creek crossing before - I'll rig up a taut line, each person crossing can hitch themselves to it with a loop of rope, and they'll have both hands free to hold on, pray, whatever they like. But first you'll have to throw that rope back across."
As he finishes speaking, Kalt raises a hand unconsciously to his neck. When the hand comes away covered in blood, he says quietly, "Hmm. Well, seems I didn't miss everything. Have to thank Ankih and his god again, I guess."
Thanks be to you Milady. I am alive. It seems you have led me to boon companions after all. Blessed be.
Ankih kneels in prayer for a moment after he catches his breath.
" Hughff. hack. Groan...Kalt are you ok? I tried to reach you with my healing aura, but wasn't sure if I got close enough, when the fey struck me from the bridge. Once we get across, I will channel again to make sure we are all alright. "
He begins to check the contents of his bolt case and scroll tube to make sure everything is all right, then realizing that he dropped his crossbow in the tumble. He glances around to see if it hit the hill or bridge, or fell to the river.
Bugsby is positively bouncing after the fight, the little bundle of winter clothed gnome positively bubbling. "Kalt! Didyousee??DIDYOU?!" the gnome pauses for dramatic affect, even lifting his small crossbow heroically above his head, "I saved your life." the words slow and profound, full of manly import and other tough things.
When the others are ready Bugsby will tie the rope about himself and try to cross the bridge, slowly inching across.
The morning your group plans to set out, your old buddy Tengezil bumps into you carrying a dozen of these oddly shaped wooden contraptions. "Bugsbyguesswhat! IheardyouwantedfancyshoesforyourfeetandImadesome! TheyreamazingyoujustdothisandthatandthentwistthishereandBAM, shoesthatmakeyourfeetthreetimesbigger! TheyaresoamazingImadesomeforallyourbuddies! WhenpeoplesayhowamazingyourshoesarejusttellthemitsaFimbrocketspecial! Illberichwoohoo!"
Bugsby accepts these gifts with aplomb, and then wild adulation, thumping his friend on the back and trying out the shoes as soon as possible, distributing the snowshoes to his friends as soon as he returns to them. "Tengezil, thesearegreat! PlusI'vealwayswantedbiggerfeet, sothat'sabonus!!" and commences a happy jig.
Bugsby smiles proudly as Sven approves of the shoes, "Iwaslookingtobuysome, heardaboutthemawhileago. Myfriend,Tengezil,heardIwasinterestedandmadesomeforallofus! WeneedtospreadthewordthatTengezilmakes'emforothersthough. It'sonlyfair."
Kalt smiles broadly in spite of his splitting headache, the tiny figure with his equally tiny weapon held high is such a picture of the proud, victorious warrior. "I am truly sorry I did not see, Bugsby. I'm afraid a wicked barmaid must have slipped something into my drink, and I slept through the whole fight. But I see your crossbow bolts stuck in the little winged icicle that laid me low, and I'm sure he would have done worse to me still if you hadn't taken him down. For that I thank you. I hope we avoid running into any more of those little archers, as I'm sure Sven will agree - but if we do, I'll do my best to kill one for you, as you did for me."
Shifting the snowshoes from Bugsby off of his back where they've been slung, Kalt continues addressing the exuberant gnome. "I've been meaning to tell you, I've used snowshoes plenty before, when hunting in Icemark. But these are so cleverly crafted, I'd be happy to spread the word about Tengezil's work. Though the flying fey and their other winged friends may not make him the best customers."
Lachna accepts a pair of snowshoes from Bugsby and straps them on, then takes a few awkward steps.
A kind gift yer friend gave ter us indeed. Many thanks. She looks over the bridge again and sighs. I feel worse n'about this than afore, but got ter be done. I'll bring up ther rear.
Sarenrae continues to smile on her freezing acolyte, as it seems the flailing on Ankih’s fall caused him to fling his crossbow onto the snow near the bridge. Bugsby makes it across the bridge, perhaps quicker than those coming down from the adrenaline high of combat would like to see.
Bugsby will try and use Prestidigitation prodigiously on Ankihs wet and frozen clothes, trying to clean them off a little faster than normal. He accepts the thanks for the snowshoes with a blush and a smile, and excitedly puts them on his own feet as well. He also reties the ropes where it's been cut, shortening it slightly but making it more secure. "Shouldbesafetocrossnow!" he says as he and Kalt secure the rope on their end.
After Ankih crosses the bridge, Kalt is able to see that the Keleshite is dripping wet and shivering. "Here, Ankih, you'll need these more than I will.". He lifts his heavy woolen cloak off his shoulders and offers it to the priest, saying, "You put on all my cold weather gear, and we can take yours and spread it over a few of our packs while we travel, maybe dry it a little faster. Given the number of times you've put me back together, friend, it's the least I can do."
At the sound of Sven's voice, Avora snaps out of her unconscious state. "I'm... alright," she says groggily.
The group manages to cross the ravine without further incident, and after a few moments to make sure everything is in order, they press onward. Driving through the snow and winds, Kalt signals a halt about half an hour later. The rangers keen senses notice a side trail. The main trail continuing south, while a side path heads to the northwest. In the distance, a thin wisp of smoke rises above the woods in that direction, barely visible through the snow.
Bugsby notes the wisp of smoke, which in turn spurs a memory of Dryden Kepp. He mentions Kepp and his multiple cabins to the others, suggesting the smoke might belong to the hunter/trapper, and the story about the giant white weasel. "Shallwegohavealook?" asks the little gnome, the thought of a warm fire no doubt near the top of his thoughts.
The group veers northwest, thinking a rest in a warm cabin will do wonders for the chilly cleric and general mood of the group. However, a few minutes later they come across rocks and snow that are stained a reddish brown, with many tracks crisscrossing the area. Upon further examination, Kalt notices there are two sets; boots and many more, oddly misshapen prints .
Bugsby looks at the reddish brown snow, a worried look crossing his face, "Anyoneknowwherethetrackslead?" asks the near-to-the-ground-gnome, looking a bit lost. "Shouldwejustgotothehousefirst?"
He gathers up his crossbow, and SLOWLY makes his way across the bridge.
" Gather around, all please. Bless this endeavor Milady. Light the path and help us burn away the cold."
Ankih will then strip off his wet winter clothing and hang it off his backpack.
" Thank you for the offer friend Kalt, but I will be ok."
He raises his holy symbol, and intones a quick prayer.
" Dawnflower be praised, protect this humble servant from the cold."
" I'm am not sure of these things Bugsby." He says with a smile." But I will try them."
Donning the snowshoes, he stumbles around in them for a while, relearning to walk.
" I'll be fine friend Sven. By all means let's continue."
" I'm all for the fire, but this weasel sounds disconcerting. Just how big is a giant weasel? " He says as he takes out his crossbow and reloads it (with a normal bolt)" We should be prepared."
Kalt studies the tracks carefully, sword in hand and some confusion on his face as he tries to make sense of whatever strange traffic has moved through this place. He also takes a closer look at the red-stained snow, fearing it is not old wine. He then pokes about in the snow a bit, to see if whoever spilled the stuff is still near.
Kalt begins surveying the area, looking for signs of what caused the coloration of the rocks and snow. Circling around a nearby tree, Kalt finds the frozen body of a man who died no more than a week ago. He seems to have died from blood loss due to multiple claw lacerations on his chest. He is dressed in studded leather, with a longbow still gripped in death. What causes the keen eyes ranger to furrow his brow, is that none of the footprints are that of an animal.
Bugsby slumps to his knees in the snow, the snowshoes coming up at an odd angle as he does so. "Poor Kepp." he laments in a sorrowful tone, "Whatdidthistohim?" he asks, looking around at his companions.