Skäne fixes the man with a long hard look;
"Your brodir lie slain in the kald... yet here you stand Yuln..."
:
At Rikka's question he grunts an aside
"Feh. If they did intend so it was nei for weregild or ransom... a rite or sacrifice perhaps? She feeds the krāka..."
At the last comment the blunt Northman shrugs his shoulders
"Sounds like a lot of feet, makes them easy to follow while the trail is fresh. What kills an Unseelie? just hack it to pieces? Did any of you kill one?"
Annalísa looks up from the map at Skäne and then to Yuln. She makes no comment about Skäne's implication, and her face appears neutral but she watches Yuln curious to see his response.
She makes a mumbled sound and then nods her head, "Elghund has a good point, there has to be some tracks we can follow."
Skane's question raises Yuln's hackles, though he responds in even tones "Better here to speak to you vikingr... than dead in the snow and no word to aid my Lady. In the press Argentea was taken... pulled back into the Grungir, legs trailing through the snow. I followed as far as I could, but the winter-touched bastards were too many, my kinsmen were dead and they were too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped, and rode to seek help here. I cut at least one of the sprites deeply... though I'm not certain it was an ending blow.”
To Rikka's query “Aye, they sought to take her. I don’t know why... but if one of Irrisen's witches have her... then no good shall come of it. The unseelie do not act without the leave of those who chilled their hearts. If they’re here, it’s because a White Witch sent them... and much worse will follow.”
On the question of what harms the fae: “Normal steel is turned by their skin. It is with cold forged iron and burning flame that they needs be fought. Both will burn them, and both will set them to fear.”
He grunts as he shifts position and his wounds sent lances of pain through his body "Aye there should be tracks enough for a good set of eyes."
Cool - am playing Skane off on exactly that - the accusation was one actually borne by his own fleeing of fate and battle :)
BTW you remembering Skane's wee trait?? Know you've been bludgeoned in RL Mark, so nae rush mate...
Kló watches the back-and-forth, but especially the injured Yuln. The chair gives a desperate squeal as the big man stands up to head over to look at the map."Time is against if we're to do any tracking in this snow." He gives a nod to the orc as if to say, 'I'll help.'
He hikes a thumb back over his shoulder towards his pack, "I'm ready to leave when everyone else is. Are we all equipped to kill unseelie?" He taps a shortspear hanging in a leather slip on his back to indicate he is.
On the question of what harms the fae: “Normal steel is turned by their skin. It is with cold forged iron and burning flame that they needs be fought. Both will burn them, and both will set them to fear.”
He hikes a thumb back over his shoulder towards his pack, "I'm ready to leave when everyone else is. Are we all equipped to kill unseelie?" He taps a shortspear hanging in a leather slip on his back to indicate he is.
"Flames I have..." she glances at her spear, "...but not cold-forged weapons. Are there any in the village? A spear can be re-tipped. Yuln, did you say that some of the fallen had such arms and they lay still with their bodies under the deepening snow? The honored dead have my respect - but we need weapons for this fight. And the dead, I think, will have better weapons in Valhalla."
Kló nods, muttering, "Wouldn't mind having a backup."
Skäne nods at Rikka's words;
"Aye. Better wielded in the hands of the living..."
Yuln measures the words "Aye, my kinsmen may have left arms upon the field... or the bandits may have taken them. At any rate..." loosening his well used longsword from it's belt loop and placing it upon the table "It's better you use this than it be useless at my side. May it serve you well."
"As to what the townsfolk might have... I'm not sure. Some hold superstition to holding the bane-iron, lest they draw ire from the fae. What weapons they might have they would not be easily parted from"
Rikka nods and puts aside the thoughts of Riimukirjain being reshod in cold iron - time and local fears weren't on their side. "I'm ready to go, then... now if you are all of a mind to it. Or we can wait until morning."
Annalísa moves to claim Yuln's sword.
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Staring into the fire Skäne smiles grimly at Rikka's enthusiasm, before commenting in his harsh accent;
"In a rush to die girl? I plan tae eat und drink minn fill, enjoy the last warmth o' the hearth... but by all means go... dance with the unseelie at night... I'll pluck your pretty spear from your frozen fingers on the morrow...
The warrior spits into the fire and sits mirthlessly watching the flames.
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The Orc utters a grunt in Annalisa's direction, objecting to her move to grasp the sword.
"He cut one of them, I want to look at the blood before you clean it all off, I don't want the blade."
He looks at the weapon intently, turning it over and over. He eventually closes his eyes and inhales along it deeply.
Survival - Track Trying to pick out the scent of the creature.
He then hands the sword over and goes to sit at the fire.
"Can travel as soon as you are all ready. Who is the boss?"
Annalísa frowns at the idea of a sword not well kept. "Surely he's cleaned the blade since then?! But go ahead and take a look."
"I don't know about being anyone's boss, but I reckon I know the area the best of all of us."
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"In a rush to die girl? I plan tae eat und drink minn fill, enjoy the last warmth o' the hearth... but by all means go... dance with the unseelie at night...
Used to bravado and bluster, Rikka says with amusement, "Ah, another stout warrior that's afraid of the dark - tsk tsk."
Yuln replies "Aye I've cleaned the blade" but Elghund is able to get enough of a taste of the tang of blood to know that he'd identify the scent if he tasted it again.
Skane's projected spittle bounces off the wall of the first floor private room and sits upon the floor in a miniature puddle of it's own making.
Yuln leans back, watching the measuring of each other and the settling of whose authority speaks to more than the others with a stoic calm.
Halla finds herself left well enough alone by all bar the proprietors who offer her food and drink if she'll take it... or leaves her to her introspection if she doesn't. She thinks that she sees a few queer glances at her silent conversation with no-one... but none make a mention of it.
With the matter of the blade resolved, the Orc listens to the conversation.
Know Nature
"The bandits aren't magical, they are normal, and they will be wantin' to sleep too. Best catch them at night while they rest and fix their wounds. Reckon the Unseelie might be sleeping too. All the better to hunt them. We have trackers and know the way, we should move soon, in the dark"
"Aye, but they'll have the advantage of sight over most of us, though Hundur can be my eyes just fine for me. I have no problem leaving tonight."
Elghund grunts a sound that suggests approval and picks up his things before moving to the door and looking at it expectantly.
"Got work to do, bandits to kill, woman to save, keep to earn"
Skane's voice of dissent is overridden by the others eagerness to get started, something which Yuln grunts an affirmation to "Fair enough, you walk with my blessing. Bring her back... and kill the bastards that took her" before you leave the private room and move downstairs.
Halla sees the group break out of the private room and begin to move to the door... while most folks would have waited till morning... it looks as though these ones intend to be underway tonight...
"Waiting until the sun kisses the sky sees the wounded enemy rested, his bigger numbers at better advantage; in the dark he don't know how many of us, in the light he can measure us. In the dark he thinks we're monsters, in the light he sees just men...and a Orc... and er dog..." His thoughts seem to wander again, as though working out if it is a good or a bad thing.
Elghund fishes a number of rocks out of his pocket and puts them on the ground, as though in formation.
"I will go up front with the Hundur, the guide Annalissa behind me, maybe ten or so paces, dont get too close or you smell too much, just point the way and I can pick a trail. The rest follow as a box, two by two, Skane and Klo in the front, Rikka and Halla protect our rear."
"When we get near the enemy, I will have a look in the dark at how they are camped, maybe you form a wall and wait, or we just walk in as a line and hack them to death".
Elghund lines up the rocks once again, this time resembling a shield wall.
"This way all can chuck spears, axes, or use bows without hitting the other in the head"
He packs up his rocks.
"Unless other ideas?"
Skäne gives a short shake of his head, then pulls together his gear with a resigned sigh.
"Ja. Upfront minn shield can aid Kló when the killing starts..."
Kló listens to the back and forth once again, happy to let it play out while he considers their arguments. As Skä gathers his gear, Kló does the same, finally speaking up.
"I don't like it, but time is on their side." He nods to Elghund's rock-formations, "I can stand wherever, but if we don't really know what we're getting into – and there's a chance we're walking into an ambush – I might be better used at the back of the group. A rear-guard."
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Rikka smiles at the orc's miniature party on the table and points to a fly standing between rock-Kló and rock-Skäne. "Who is that?" Not appreciating the attention, the fly takes wing. "Nevermind. It appears your Griffon has flown away... I'll stand where you wish. At the back or in the middle make some sense. My fýrwylmas galdru strike at no further than 5 long-paces. Having iron weapon bearers at front and back would seem wise."
Having said her peace, Rikka steps out for awhile and returns with a round of steaming mulled drinks and a well-made backpack slung over one shoulder. She puts the drinks down before pulling a thicker winter coat and gloves from the pack - dressing for the worsening weather.
... the guide Annalissa behind me, maybe ten or so paces, dont get too close or you smell too much...
Annalísa lifts the neck of her shirt and gives the inside area a cursory sniff. She mumbles something and shrugs.
Yeah, OK. You think Hundur will be able to smell anything off that blade too?"
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Skäne stands grim faced, gearing up. The warrior takes a small bottle from his pack and rubs the liniment it holds into his shoulders and hands, flexing through gritted teeth as he does.
The Vikingr then checks his armour and weapons in turn before finally shouldering his battered shield, giving it an absent minded pat as he does so, akin to the way Annalísa might pet her loyal hund.
As Rikka approaches with horns of warm liquor he questions her in his already deadpan fashion;
"Drinks? Thought you were in a hurry lass..."
She passes the drinks around before answering. "It'll take the chill off the night... besides, I'm not of a mind to sip it."
She holds the horn up a short way, unsure of the toasting traditions of this diverse group, "To the white witches' lamentation and leaving a trail of bodies in our wake - none our own. Skål." She gives the rest of the group a moment to toast in their own way before downing the firey liquor in three long pulls.
"Hmm we can move in the dark, silver moon and the stars make enough light for us to see where we going, won't need more, and bandits camp will probably have a warm fire for us to join them by. If need to make light, maybe fight on the way, have your bits ready to use for then... we don't want to shine like the great green lights in the sky"
Elghund grunts disdainfully at the alcohol coming around and instead fills his own drinking horn with water for the toast.
"Not make you warmer, just make you forget cold, but cold not forgetting you. Then we have to carry home cold person. Don't like cold, get a good coat."
Elghund looks about, somewhat concerned.
"Hmmm, I thought we were six, not five, weren't more coming? Guess some got watery guts and didn't want to hunt"
Walking back down to the common room, he looks about to see if there's any other movement or people readying to leave.
Seeing not much general interest, he offers a final bark "Anyone else hunting? Got a minute to get yer blades and coats."
The toast has a sense of finality about it, and you set about girding yourself to the chill night air and set out from the Silver Stoat. Though late in the evening, it is still early in the night and the silvery moon has not yet ascended to the top of the blackened sky. Passing by the statue of the lady that dominates the town square you quickly pass through the small circles of light passed off by the lanterns and torches that are lit and stride into the deeper dark.
The first part of your journey is slow going and frustrating. Though there is little that portends anything is out of the ordinary, travelling in the dark with naught but the light of the stars and moon to guide you makes the trail harder than it would be during the day. Under Annalisa's guidance, Elghund brings you North to the ford and you see a dark shadow of the Grungir in the distance. Though it is quiet and passive, you still get a sense of foreboding all the same. After the ford, you following the Northern bank of the river a ways and find yourself drawing closer to the site of the ambush as the deepest dark of the night has passed and there is a slow approach to dawn. Your path leaves the river and then cuts Northwards and towards the Grungir.
Near the forest, the temperature grows noticeably colder, though not yet at the temperature where it is of true discomfort. Given the dark you are very close by the time you see it, or indeed the scent is one of the first signs of anything wrong. The road ahead is littered with shadows of 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.
"Big and messy. Left a trail as big as a road as they went too"
Elghund pulls out a grapple and a rope, "Anyone want to open things or seacrh bodies, reckon we hook em and drag em to us. Better that than finding a live bandit playing dead sticking us with a knife, or finding traps set for humans. Isn't just bears an wolves like taking bait"
Elghund advances slowly into the ambush site, carefully stepping around corpses to avoid kicking blades in the snow or anything else that might make an unduly loud noise. He moves towards the intact carriage.
Perception + Scent
"If you're worried about someone playing dead, just stab them, if they weren't dead already, they will be. Gather the weapons, if you will, they can always be used in town if nothing else. Which way did they go?"
"Hmph, I'll keep using my hook, keeps my distance from 'em too. Can't be too carefull. These ones look dead dead though."
Elghund points in the direction of the trail leading off into the snow, "They headed that way"
Rikka circles the periphery of the killing ground observing everything on her way towards the ice statue that she strongly suspects is made of flesh not stone. She mutters quietly to herself weaving an enchantment about her eyes that turn them from grey to blizzard white.
Kló moves along at the back of the group with a steady, even, and sometimes lumbering stride. Those near him do notice something subtle, though. As the group moves through the night, with only the muffled sounds of thier own footsteps and breathing, Kló changes a bit. The farther they move from town, the more his awkwardness seems to drain from him. His reserved glances and uncomfortable shrugs are replaced with a wary but unwavering presence that is far more full of confidence.
You realize that what you saw in Heldren was akin to what a wild animal must look like when it tries to play the part of a tamed, civilized city animal. And at the ambush site, the huge shadow in the night exudes a simple, rustic confidence.
As Rikka breaks off towards the statue, Kló follows her. As the small woman whispers her strange words, Kló gives her a quizzical, considering look. Then, in a surprising move, he pulls a pebble from the snow and a rag from his pack.
Huddling close to the small woman, he wraps the pebble in the rag, then gives a long, slow exhalation of breath. Then he himself whispers a series of words. They aren't words Rikka understands with her mind, but something old… something deep within in her recognizes what they are. Words of ancient power.
As the big man whispers his words, the wind seems to answer. The same words… quiet but as big as the northern wind… sweep past their ears, rustling their hair, and the pebble – still covered by the rag – catches fire with a heatless flame. Only the rag keeps the light from becoming bright enough to give away their position to anyone nearby.
By the light of the muted, heatless flame in his palm, Kló's long face splits into a small grin at Rikka. "Maybe this will help." He turns to regard the statue as well.
Somewhat perhaps to her surprise, Rikka also finds Skäne shadowing her, his ax and heavy shield bearing the lion of Taldor both readied.
In a low voice he grumbles;
"Reckon you're far too valuable to lose first girl... minn shield is your shield"
Elghund and Annalisa do not pick up on any immediate threats or danger - so you are emboldened to step a little closer. As you do you're able to pick out more details from the scene from shadows and doubt. One carriage is rent and broken, smashed apart and lying on it's side. Amidst the wreckage you see the bodies of two women, what look to be courtiers or handmaidens as opposed to warriors. There is not any weaponry left behind on the field, and the corpses have been stripped of armor also. The bodies of the guards are pierced with tiny needles and shards of ice. The light borne by Klo's shuttered stone plays over the scene with flickering results, seeming to make the corpses dance as he walks.
The second carriage is expensive and decorated in a Varisian air... but the grandeur has faded as it is studded with the remains of many arrows. The wheels are broken on one side so you doubt that you would be able to make it mobile once more without a lot of work. Curiously a spear has been wedged between the handles of the carriage doors to hold them closed. As you pick through the debris... you hear muffled thumping sounds coming from within it.
The ice statue grows more grim as you approach. The figure is a proud Ulfen man frozen solid within the embrace of ice. A look of mixed horror and fear upon his face. After he had frozen, it appears that something had been chipping away at the ice to carve into his body. His right arm has been broken off of the main block, lying beside the ice statue in a separate block of ice. Where most of the bodies on the ground have been stripped of valuables - he still bears his chainmail and his dismembered arm grips tightly upon a sword within the cold encasement.
At the edge of the massacre site, an obvious trail leads between a copse of trees and over a snowy plain toward the Grungir. The trail shows booted feet and the hooves of horses that are stark and true in the heavy snow.
Looking at the frozen Ulfen, Kló's shield suddenly feels like so much dead weight. "What unnatural fae devil can do this?"
But his thoughts are brought up short by the sounds from the Varisian-style carriage, and Kló's shortspear is suddenly in-hand, the rag-encapsuled flame-pebble held in his shield-hand.
He gives a nod to the group, ready to face whatever danger is trapped within.
By the light of the muted, heatless flame in his palm, Kló's long face splits into a small grin at Rikka. "Maybe this will help." He turns to regard the statue as well.
The sorceress looks surprised and impressed at the hulking man, re-assessing him. "She always said there's depth to ash trees that only a fool discounts. You're tall as one and it seems you've depths, too."
She is about to continue on their course, working by the druid's shielded light, when the axe-wielding warrior emerges from the darkness.
"Reckon you're far too valuable to lose first girl... minn shield is your shield"
Rikka's eyebrow raises in surprise even as her eyes return to their normal grey. She gives the warrior a small, awkward, curtsy, "You have my thanks Skäne, son of Ingvâr. May your axe always bite true and your shield never break." She hastily turns back to the matter at hand, unused to such protection. "No magic remains here aside from what we can all see."
The live thumping from the carriage stands in stark contrast to the butchery that surrounds them. Rikka shares a skeptical look with Kló and Skäne, dubious that the unseelie and bandits let anyone live particularly after stripping all the corpses of valuables. "Trap?" She approaches the carriage cautiously with the rest of the group, staying clear of everyone's firing line. She keeps an eye on the trees as well, in case the thumping is a feint. She waves to Elghund, mimics the hook and rope he bears, then points to the spear holding the doors shut.
Skäne eyes the frozen Ulfen's fate with a grim set to his jaw;
"Nei way for a warrior to die... frozen and broken like an iss statue..."
He spits into the snow and moves with the others toward the carriage, ax and shield readied.
At Rikka's question he shrugs his broad shoulders;
"Could be... or a survivor... burn it just to be sure..."
"We're not burning it. If there is something in there needing killed, we're going to kill it. If there's something in there needing saved, we're going to save it." She says matter-of-factly.
Sword readied, she nods to Elghund, seconding Rikka's suggestion that he use his hook to pull the spear free.
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Skäne smiles grimly at the Annalísa's virtue;
"Huh. In the company of great haelar I see... clearly I been down South too lang..."
The hard-bitten warrior spins his axe a couple of times before settling into a fighting stance