"I hope so, Sven. I hope so."
Gilganis mentally reels at the barrage of questions from the little gnome, trying to sort out each word in his head and form the newly deciphered words into some structure which makes sense. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Featherfoot." the larger man rumbles in his low tone, "Explosives are my area of expertise, I am an alchemist by trade, and somewhat of a lore master in these parts. I've trained with explosives for such a time that I have learned to shape their path and trajectory by applying certain outside forces to their path. A spin here, a twist there, it's all relatively simple really." As the conversation goes on, it becomes clear that the tiefling actually enjoys having someone to talk to, and he appears to enjoy explaining nearly everything in detail.
Note to self, learn Gnomish when time permits. I wonder if they speak this way in their own native tongue.
"About my horns, well, I am a tiefling. Are you familiar with the term? No matter. Tieflings are those who are born with the blood of a fiend somehow intermingled with their own, and the birth usually leads to unusual physical traits, often quite random." as he accentuates the point by snaking his tail behind Bugsy and rapping him on the shoulder, only to withdraw the appendage quickly and resuming the lazy swish behind him with it. "I was born this way, skin and horns and such, and I cannot provide much insight into the why of it. As far as your skin turning blue, give me some time. I might be able to come up with a salve that might do the trick." and he grins at the gnome with a rare smile.
Shortly thereafter they arrive at the stoop of the Iron Flask and Gilganis unlocks the door and ushers them in. The front room is well kept and clean, with nothing more than a few bare shelves and a high counter. To the side is a workroom of some kind, with various herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling in bunches and a workbench littered with flasks and containers holding liquids of various colors. He opens a door in the main room which leads to a small living area with a warm hearth and a number of chairs around a wooden table. He waves at the group to follow him inside as he pours water from a bucket into a kettle and a cauldron, swinging each on an arm to rest inside the flames, setting the liquid inside to warming.
"It isn't much, and space is limited, but please make yourselves as comfortable as you are able. I've started some water for tea and I'll begin working on some soup." He moves about the small room gathering various items from storage and tossing them into the cauldron within the fire.
"So, we are away from prying eyes and ears now. Tell me about yourselves. What are you doing here and who was the fey you were chasing through the woods? I'm willing to bet you are not all native to this land, as neither am I."
I-I am blinded as well Avora. I don't have any magics that can heal this, unless it will heal with a regular heal spell. Eyes are complex and difficult to fix. We will just have to stiffen our spines, as they say, and hope for the best." He then lapses back into introspective silence for the remainder of the trip to Waldsby.
Please Milady , if not me let Avora have her sight returned. Either way the Flame will fill my soul...
Once they are inside and all gathered around, Ankih will do a healing burst of positive energy.. just in case it will help, Though without much hope.
"Milady Bless..."
" Might someone guide me to a place to sit down?" He asks in a hoarse whisper, seemingly worn out from the trek.
Kalt can't help be a bit startled, even alarmed, at their new companion's appearance, but his easy, friendly way with Bugsby - and the fact that the man burned away the flock of accursed ravens sent by Mierul - does much to allay any concerns. Kalt's eyes widen and his hand strays to his blade when Gilganis describes his fiendish heritage, but again, his calm demeanor and obvious good intentions help to ease the Ulfen's somewhat suspicious nature.
His attention no longer focused so closely on the tiefling, Kalt takes a closer look at the village of Waldsby as they enter into it in the early morning light. A feeling of something very familiar nags at him, and the reason for it quickly becomes clear as they come to the town square and Kalt sees the statue at its center. "How..?' he begins to ask, but he struggles to put the thought into words. Looking further and noting the incredible similarity to Heldren, Kalt lays a hand on Sven's arm to take his focus off helping Avora for a moment. When Sven meet his eyes, Kalt swings his gaze to the fountain, the surrounding buildings, his meaning clear without words, We're in Heldren - in Irrisen!
As they arrive at the alchemist's shop, Kalt notes with a lopsided grin that Bugsby has finished his important questions about how the fiend-touched bomb-thrower might help the gnome turn blue one day, and takes the opportunity to speak up. "Thank you very much for taking us in - and for helping us fight the witch's ravens. My friends will appreciate the simple comfort of your shop while they recover from the attack."
After a brief pause to consider how to tell the tale, and how to get his own questions about Waldsby answered, Kalt continues, "We are not of this land, as you will have guessed. We came from Taldor and, as hard as it may be to believe, we were there just yesterday. The village we came from was beset by strange, wintry weather, at high summer. We set out to investigate and, though it's a longer tale than I make it, we soon passed through an icy portal that brought us here. And as odd as our tale is, the damned strangest thing of all is that Heldren, the village we travelled from, is the spitting image of this one, down to the statue in the town square. Do you know any way to explain such a thing?"
As the group continues with their introductions, the town continues to wake up. The sound of saws through wood begins to be heard from the south, and an oddly familiar tuft of blue hair is seen walking past the window of the store. The sounds of horse and cart can be heard heading east as children begin to shirk off their chores and begin playing with the new fallen snow. Telltale “thumps” of errant snowballs packed a bit harder than they should be occasionally resound from the outside of the store, and the rhythmic clanging of hammer on steel drift in from the west.
Gilganis ponders the question and thinks back to anything he might have read that would cause a parallel such as a town appearing in two distinct locations at the same time. If such a thing had ever happened there would surely have been tales of it if the places were discovered.
At the larger man's offering Gilganis extends his hands and feels the giant appendage engulf his own, "Gilganis Felspar, an honor to meet you Sven, son of Bjorn. Your heritage marks you as one of the people of these harsh lands, yet you travel with those from Taldor?"
"I will likely not be the last to tell you that your tale is a strange one, but nothing is too far from the ordinary when dealing with the Jadwiga and their kind. What prompted you to decide to enter an obviously magical portal of unknown origin, sending you by my estimates over 1500 miles in the span of a single stride?" the tiefling asks, obviously not at all doubtful that such a means of transport could exist. "Duty to King and country perhaps? Aroden knows there is no shortage of those willing to claim to be so much in those lands." he continues, then quickly interjects again, "No, nothing that simple. Not for a group such as yourselves. I doubt most of you would bend a knee to a petty noble."
Gilganis’ mind churns with the possibilities. The simplest thought would be that it IS just coincidence. The town is built along logical lines, with the important buildings near the center, trailing away to homes along the outskirts, but that wouldn’t answer the question about the statues. If they truly were identical as indicated, the chances of two people building the same statue for the town square are astronomical. That means there IS a connection. Without looking at the town records, there is no way of telling about founders and town origins, there is also no telling if those records have even been kept so far back. Without seeing Heldren, he cannot tell anything based on landscape, and he cannot remember reading anything about this before. But then his mind hits upon something. In his studies he has learned about natural phenomena and the channeling of Golarion’s inate power. Something called ley lines. Various points of power that interconnect with each other and can augment a spell caster’s already potent magical prowess. Whitethrone is built upon one, which is part of why Baba Yaga originally chose it as her capital. Perhaps there is a ley line connecting points near Heldren and Waldsby, and that’s how the Witches have chosen the points for their portals.
"So your cause is one of correcting the imbalance within your land. There is no small amount of bravery involved in stepping through a mysterious portal to points unknown to save one's own homeland. It speaks of your character at the very least." Gilganis says to the Ulfen. "Personally, I've never held myself to such lofty goals, but perhaps those were times that I was less motivated." In the last statement there is a rather subtle note of sourness, perhaps even stifled anger.
"While I am no expert, and having never stepped foot in this town of Heldren that you mention, there are possibilities that other forces could be at work. Coincidence is one, although this is unlikely considering the similarities you mentioned. Additional research might be required. If your quest is a pressing one you may not have such a luxury." For a moment Gilganis returns to the soup heating in the fire, gazing into the coals and losing himself in the hypnotic dance of the flame. Many seconds pass by in silence as he fails to continue his explanation, his hand still on the ladle within the cauldron, the heat of the fire going unnoticed. After a few seconds he seems to come back to his senses and picks up his speech as if only a brief pause had passed, "Magical forces could possibly tie the locations together, although such an event would be rare in the least. This would have had to have been a part of a much larger plan. If the locations were connected it would serve as a means to focus arcane forces in one location and cause a manifestation to result at another location. Perhaps these two villages were indeed created to mark the spot for such an event."
Listening in on the conversations around him, Ankih snorts in laughter...
"It could all be a coincidence I suppose, but it all seems so connected. I am sure , just by looking at me, you realize that I am not from Taldor. Funnily enough, I was passing through, trying to raise enough funds for a trip to ...well, here!"He laughs again, with an almost hysterical edge to it.
" In my travels, to meet my parents, whom were escaping the Pactmasters of Katepesh themselves, I met an escaped slave girl from this realm. We spent a few weeks together, and I found myself smitten by her. She never told me her real name, but asked to be called Irrisen.
Sadly enough, my parents met their doom not to far from Heldren, and with no other goals or ties, I decided to try to locate her in Irrisen the country. It's all rather confused now, but I have sworn to aid in this quest, so I shall."
He chuckles again then drops into a contemplative posture, 'looking' off into the distance.
Besides I have also made an agreement with Milady Dawnflower, to become her servant of flame....
As the morning passes, the sun shines brightly on the new fallen snow, creating glare through many of the shops windows. It is the sudden lack of glare that draws the attention of Sven and Kalt. Peering through the windows, they see a full dozen armed men, with a grizzled looking man at the head of the martial train. The men are clearly geared for combat; swords, armor, and spiked shields all appearing well used, but in good repair. As they march down the road, the citizenry give them a wide berth, and children dash behind parent’s legs, hoping to remain out of sight.
The train marches directly to The White Weasel, filing in in an orderly fashion, leaving 4 of the men standing guard around the tavern. These men are clearly watching for something, their head and eyes repeatedly scanning the area as they watch all four entrances to the town.
As Sven introduces himself, Kalt weighs in as well, ”Yes, Sven and I were both born in the land of the Linnorms. Though he fled the great worms and the cold while I stayed,” he adds with a grin. ”I am Kalt Ìsson, of Icemark. I left my home there some years ago, and travelled far and wide, eventually coming to Taldor, where I met Bjornson. We have fought, and occasionally nearly died, together, ever since. The people of Heldren, the village that so resembles your own, asked us to look into the mystery of their wintry weather. When we found the portal, it seemed the answer to the mystery lay through it – so here we are."
Kalt nods at Sven’s quick glance, agreeing silently that Gilganis seems deserving of the truth, bizarre as it is. And as Gilganis offers an explanation for the similarities between the two villages, Kalt responds, ”Well, that’s better than any explanation I’d have come up with – seems you’re a good man to know.”
As Sven asks about the armed troop of men, Kalt chimes in, "Whoever they are, they're on watch for for someone. Poor way to do it, too, stomping about and announcing your presence for a quarter-mile." He then turns away from the window and looks to Gilganis for an explanation.
Bugsby crows with pleasure at the thought of a salve to turn himself blue, and he finds himself quite enjoying the Tieflings company and conversation. "Thetailseemsmosthandyaswell, heehee. Getit?! Handy!" and giggles more at his joke, but then turns serious. "Ishouldliketohaveatailverymuchaswell. Bluewithatail, andwingsperhaps... Doyouhaveasalveforthat?"
But responding to Gilganis question about the Fey they were chasing, Bugsby tells the sad tale of his brief but vibrant love for the blue, lovely and mysterious Mierul-witch. "Idiscoveredhermissingandfearedtheworst. Kalttrackedhertowherewefoundyou, anditbecameclearthenshenevertrulyLovedmeatall. Shewasjustlovingmeandleavingme, andsendingcrowstoeatmyeyes." and hangs his small head dejectedly.
------------
As the discussion of the towns being the same, Bugsby will proceed to inspect the town as thoroughly as he can to explore the extent of it's same-ness with his own town. Playing with children, blades of grass, smells of midden-piles, distance between buildings, air currents from rooftops, the ease of entries into locked storerooms, the reactions of well-dressed locals to snowballs to the face, and other such important research is completed.
Seeing the soldiers come into town, the gnome approaches one with a big smile. He's sure to speak slowly for the slow-witted human guard --never a good prospect for a quick wit, "Hello sir! I'm Bugsby. What brings you and your merry band to town this cold day?" He takes a drink from a newly purchased bottle of ale, offering it up to the guard.
Gilganis notes the approach of the men from the window, his face instantly contorting with a sneer. His eyes narrow to slits and his teeth begin to grind together, the calm persona thusfar seen by the party flying away to be replaced by one of pure malice. "Guards, from the Pale Tower. Likely shaking down the townsfolk as is their habit." he says, his voice louder and more prominent than before, "They are not to be trusted. And it is possible that they are finding out about your arrival at this very moment unless we are lucky enough not to be seen. Most fear them, many hate them, but some are in league with them." He moves through the rooms, gathering various items and tucking them into his belt and pack. He retrieves his crossbow and knocks a bolt, obviously expecting the worst.
"I'd be ready for anything, at least until they are clear of the town." Strangely, he doesn't appear to regret the idea of a conflict.
"The Pale Tower?" asks Kalt, anger and suspicion in his voice. "That's where Nadya met the White Witch! Nazhena Vasillovna, she called her. The witch who took her daughter and made her into one of those ghoulish guardian dolls. I have sworn to Nadya I would do what I could to rescue her daughter from that place, or help her get revenge on the witch, if that is all that's left to her." He looks out the window at the guards, then at his blinded friends, his frustration mounting. He manages to control it with an effort, and says, "Sven is right. As much as I'd like to take these men down, that will only put Avora and Ankih in danger, and not get Nadya a thing. We should wait, though it pains me."
The tiefling is startled by the revelation from the ranger, "You know of Nadya? How is this?", words quickly stopped by the mention of the fate of her daughter. Gilganis seemingly loses it, consumed in rage. as the tiefling pushes his way past the group looking out the window and makes for the front door.
The guard stares at Bugsby a moment, clearly befuddled by the gnomes actions. Then, calling out in skald
Kalt darts out the door past Gilganis, muttering darkly,"What were we thinking, letting Bugsby wander about out there on his own? It's a wonder we've only some guardsmen to fight, and not an angry mother linnorm!" He draws his sword as he steps out of the building, calling out, "Set that little fellow down, and nobody'll get hurt!"
The guards look at Kalt, and a slow grin begins to form. The one near the door yells loudly into the tavern:
Bugsby's grin is quickly wiped away as the two ruffians grab him up, "G'awck!" he cries out in surprise. His alarm turns into a rush of relief as Kalt and Sven show up, "Help! Theymeantoeatme, I'msureofit!"
Hearing the sounds of struggle, Avora rises from her bed and makes her way to the door. "Sven?! What's going on?"
Meanwhile Bugsby tries to reason with his would-be-captors, "Really gentlemen, I'm not very tasty! Also, too little to really fill either of you up!"
A one of the guards moves forward, away from the others and calls out in skald,
Bugsbys wiggling causes one of the guards to lose his grip, but the one holding his feet drags to poor Gnome back towards the door, bouncing Bugsbys head against the trampled down snow. The one by the door shouts into the Tavern while staring a Kalt,