Shades of Ice Trilogy (Inactive)

Game Master Awenydd83

I can find no link in any resource between Hallit and Ulfen. They may coexist near each other, but do not appear to be linked.. kind of like American English and Mexican Spanish. Even if some words are similar, without some kind of ruling on that, I am going to have to say no. Hopefully the spellcasters have something?? However, he is still wounded.. there are other things you can do to improve his mood a bit.

Rovark speaks to the man, who just stares at him uncomprehendingly.

No way for me to understand.

"What is he saying? Sounds like mumbo jumbo to me." Dean scratches his head in a perplex manner. He swings around his sword testing his new toy.

I can't understand him. And he doesn't seems to understand us.

It happens to me twanci when I was working as a guide in Mwangi. Try to not apper threatening and use the usual gestures of peace. Hands up, smile, and so on... suggest Guinfa before drop his shield and his spiked gauntlet before moving near him trying to appear as nice as he can.

Then, with smooth moves he signals were the barbarian wounds were, letting him realize he's been healed.

Diplomacy to improve attitude: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (8) + 9 - 2 = 15 With the penalty you consider as we doesn't talk the same language

I will be more useful if I'm not the only one showing our good will he adds to his companions, inviting them to join him.

Dean sighs, but attempts to be useful. "We come in peace." he says at the top of his voice, following Guinfa's lead, but awkwardly, unsure what the "usual gestures of peace" even mean.

aid another, diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4

The man looks between Guinfa and Dean, completely bewildered and out of sorts. He tightens his arms around his bleeding wounds, trying to staunch the flow of blood. As Dean raises his voice harshly, the man begins to try and scoot away from the group.

Pazacku approaches the man calmly, and points to his wounded arm. Pazacku tears off a strip of fabric from his clothing and wraps it around his own arm. Then he pulls it off and hands it to the man, hoping he mimics him. Once he is done wrapping his arm, Pazacku offers his hand to the man, helping the man stand up.

The half-orc gives Guinfa a look when he asks for assistance. "We're probably treating this guy better than anyone in his life except -MAYBE- his lovers. He can't even make out what we are saying, or he's faking it really well."

He moves closer to the northerner and starts making guttural sounds which wouldn't be called language by many Taldane speakers, but a language is a language.

After a moment of waiting, he continues:

The man carefully accepts the rag and ties it quickly to one of his wounds.. he nods to Pazacku when he is done. As Malik begins to speak in different languages, he shakes his head at ever pause before saying something in his own language. He points to your weapons, then to himself, miming a stabbing motion.

"That poor man, you've only just healed him and he wants you to put him out of his misery already! I can't look!" Dean exclaims as he uses his free hand to cover his eyes momentarily, as he fingers soon become wider to allow one eye to watch.

Ok.. maybe I left a bit to be desired with that description.. lmao. After miming, he looked back at you with a questioning look.

Lol, I think Dean is just being very true to his character. Although I can see how the guy's action can be misconstrued

Rolvark frowns at Dean's words and actions "I very much doubt that's what he's trying to say" Rolvark coughs to get the man's attention, then points to the dead warriors and stripped corpses, followed by the man and finally pointing to the weapons with a questioning look.

As Rolvark points to the corpses and then to the warrior, the man weakly clenches his fist and brings it to his chest, tapping himself twice, then spreading his fingers over his lower face to encompass the paint he wears. However, he turns a quizzical look to Rolvark as he begins to indicate the weapons.

always hate these scenarios where there is a language barrier

Pazacku takes one of his kunai from the small of his back, and kneels in front of the male and begins to draw. First, he draws a stick figure person. Followed by a group of small huts. Then he draws a group of six.

He then looks over to the warrior. First he points to the lone figure and then to the warrior, with the handle of the kunai of course. Then to the group of six and then to himself and his group. He then points to both the lone figure, him, and the group, us and draws a large circle around both, and draws a large circle around the both. He then points to the bunch of huts and the to the warrior once more. Finally he draws a line from the circle of stick figure to the small huts.

I hope he understands this. When we get to his village, hopefully some one speaks Common

essentially, take us to your village

All Shilak can do is look back and forth between his party members and the injured kellid, uncertain how he could help. Instead, he turns to the deceased. With the ground too frozen to give a proper burial, he lays the bodies neatly, although keeping the two groups separated.

I'm back!

I think Shilak is more right than Pazacku, but arguing will not help thinks Guinfa as he silently helps the nagaji to bury the deceased.

The man frowns as he tries to work out Pazacku's message, but once realization hits, a deep scowl darkens his face and he crosses his arms with a solid shake of his head. His intent is obviously a very strong no. He points to each of you and points back the way you came with a shooing motion. He then carefully and with much pain tries to stand.

As Guinfa and Shilak'ho begin to separate and position the bodies, the man says something in his own language and in a commanding tone, trying to interpose himself between the two Pathfinders and the native dead. He becomes visibly agitated if they get close to a body of one of the fallen Snowmask warriors.

Malik sighs heavily, and slowly walks off into the distance.

He returns in a few minutes with the sleigh and moves towards the body of the dead animal they dispatched a few minutes ago.

He walks towards Pazacku's drawing in the snow and claps a few times to get the native's attention. Once the native is focusing on the half-orc, he gestures to the man to come closer to the drawing again, and waits for his response.

The man tentatively draws closer..

Guinfa stops helping to bury the deceased as long as the man interpose between Malik and him, and the bodies. He raises his arms, making clear he's stopping and turns back.

It looks he doesn't want his comrades buried. Or we don't know the proper way to do it, who knows.

Dean walks in circles, and draws circles in the ground with his shiny new blade, to kill of the boredom. Finally, after a while, he blabs "Well, No real use helping those who don't want it, amirite? The keep is still ahead of us! And the tracks are still fresh, any longer the tracks might rot." He then bursts into a small laugh, happy at his little joke.

Once the half-orc has the native's attention, he starts playing his pantomime. He points to the native, and grabs his arm. His face turning into a painful grimace, and the makes an imitation of a limping walk for a few seconds. Once he stops, he points to the man again.

"That's you...", he exclaims, not considering the fact that the man probably won't understand the words.

Now he points to the stick figure drawing in the snow representing the native, and does a little walking gesture with two fingers along the line to the drawn village. He repeats this several times, while pointing at the native with his free hand/ Suddenly he raises one hand closed in a fist, but his index finger straight: "But...", he speaks again, and walks over to the wolverine's cadaver. He drags the animal towards the native, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

"... what if you get attacked?", he says, as he lifts one of the wolverine's paws up to the native's injured arm, and makes a clawing motion with it.

He repeats the clawing motiona few times, then quickly let's go of the hand, draws his dagger, and makes a stabbing motion with it at the wolverine's body.

"We can protect you. Do you understand?", he speaks, while imitating to stab the animal again.

"Don't be dumb, human. you can barely walk... Let. Us.", he quickly moves both of his hands between himself and the native several times, palms open: "Help. You."

He points to the now-empty sleigh and the bodies of his unit a few times.

Once he is done, he extends his right hand towards the man, offering a handshake.

Perform Act, I guess? Pantomime?: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18

Daaaaaam Son! Nailed it!

The man seems like he is able to follow the pantomimed conversation, but replies with just a shake of his head. Tentatively, seeing if anyone moves to stop him, he returns to the dead of his clan and picks up a sword before grinning at Malik. He stabs the dead wolverine while looking the half orc square in the eye. He returns to his fallen comrades, keeping himself between you and them.

There really isn't much more to be gathered here with the language barrier.. he is going to rabbit the first chance that he gets. Although this may be much more entertaining around a table, we do need to move on. I will let you wrap it up as you see fit and move us along tomorrow.

Malik shrugs and looks at Dean: "This is a lost cause. I'm with Dean. Nice hilt, by the way. This is the pirate sword you were looking for?"

Dean lets out a large sigh of relief hearing those words."Thank you... that's what I've been trying to say."I think. He says confidently. Turning to his sword, he proudly beams it, "Yes! I believe it is so! What luck falls upon us this day!"

Rolvark nods at the warrior, and makes a gesture of 'safe travels' before turning to his companions "Well, if he wishes to travel by himself then let us respect his wish. His pride in his warrior skills must be wounded, and this is probably not aided by the fact that his companions lie dead. Let us move on to where the other tracks lead." Rolvark gestures down where the other tracks went.

Disappointed, but resigned that you are going to get nothing more from the man, you leave him to tend to his own and head out on your northeasterly path. The tracks from the previous group are easy to follow, and they lead precisely the same way as your map tells you is the path to the Keep. About an hour later, you hear the deep booming sound of a horn echoing up from behind you to the south. A few moments later, another horn sounds from in front of you to the north east.

Despite the active start to the day, very little else of interest occurs as you slosh your way through the snow. Near dusk, you are tired, cold, and seeking a cave Skagni marked on your map as a possible shelter. Your route takes you through a rocky field adorned with an ancient ring of druidic stones surrounded by heaps and piles of drifted and blown snow.

The gradual shift into rockier terrain is now more apparent than ever. Large, round stones evoke cobblestones as they form a layer of ground, although the hard-packed snow is still visible between. Ahead, an ancient ring of boulders juts from the ground to form a ring. The wind’s erratic path around the massive rocks has blown the snow into large, haphazard drifts.

Please place yourselves on the map.

Dean makes his way to the centre of the runes, "Look at me!" He spins around, in a funny dance but also attempts to detect magic and look for treasure.

perceptiom: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Shilak stares at the stone structure suspiciously, forking out his tongue repeatedly as if to taste if anything untoward might be emanating from it. "Hsss. I don't trussst thisss. The druidsss of Nagajor build earth and ssstone ssstructuresss like thessse in the junglesss and ssswampsss warded by ssstrong primal magic."

He pulls out his wand again, and after a while, manages to activate it on himself. He glances in concern as some of his party moves into the circle, but he stays resolutely outside, hand on his sword.

Malik shuffles aroud the stones, looking for any writing on them.

"Never saw one of these... Fascinating."

He is apparently bewildered and curious.

I seem some stone structures in Mwangi Guinfa lies, but not with strong magic or strong guardians.

And I hope there's nothing of that here, or Dean is going to cause some problems he adds in a cheerful voice as he mpoves toward the circle

I love the imaginery of our pirate dancing in the middle of a sacred circle. What can go wrong?

Rolvark leans against one of the stones and rubs the stone
I wonder what were the purpose of these stones...a burial site? A meeting point? It is unfortunate that I do not share the same tongue with the people here...now I doubt I will ever know.

Whilst mulling over these thoughts and blithely ignoring Dean's antics, Rolvark silently surveys the landscape with a watchful eye

perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Nothing can go wrong!

"it's just stone! What exactly could happen?" after exhausting himself, he turns to one of the pillars to give it knock. Like a knock knock "See, nothing can go wrong!"

And if something goes wrong, at least it's going to be interesting

There could be guardians if it's a sacred site Guinfa answers, Or there can be nothing.

Sorry for not posting yesterday. I tried to log on, but all I was getting was the spinney wheel of boredom and "page not loaded" notifications.

Dean dares the gods fate by dancing in and out among the blown snow and the standing stones. The rest of the group spreads out, not trusting this site.. and their mistrust is soon given a voice and a form as three shaggy forms rise up from the snow banks, tossing off the furs that allowed them to hide safely under the snow. They stand with weapons drawn and the same white pain from their nose to their throat, but do not yet attack. The one from the north calls out in a language you do not understand.

Rolvark is startled by the sudden appearance of the warriors, but tries to stay calm when they do not immediately attack. When the first one calls out in his language, Rolvark's heart sinks

This must be Hallit again. Unfortunate that none of us can speak the language Rolvark holds his hands in front of him palm facing outward to show he is unharmed "We come in peace..."

diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7

Pazacku, not wanting to fight the natives, resist the urge to draw his katana. He offers the same gesture as Rolvark.

We do not wish to fight. We are just passing through
diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Shilak deliberately holds out his hands in a nonthreatening manner, keeping them well away from his weapons. "We are not enemies..."

diplomacy, aid: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 Oh well, guess a snake-like humanoid would look particularly threatening.

Malik was preoccupied with the stones. He only notices the ambush when the pathfinders start speaking. He shifts his attention from the stones to his surroundings, and immediately drops everything he has in his hands, raising them to his chest level and attempting to speak to the locals in Taldane, Orc, and Giant to diffuse the situation:

"We don't want trouble and are merely passing through."

If I had been thinking about it, I would have scrubbed this encounter, but we were already in it before I realized my mistake.. So, a bit of rewriting it is!!

The locals look between the group members as they each try the languages that they know. The leader looks you over quizzically.. then as he lowers his weapons and motions his companions to do the same. In very broken common, he manages to say "You no belong. You not follow friends. They will die. You will die."

Observing the little attempt for chit chat without a common language, Dean facepalms himself and watches it in humor. After the group attempts to communicate, Dean stares puzzled at what the man tries to say, "So, if we follow friends, we not die? Who are friends? Where are we now?" He points to the rocks.

Rolvark grunts "We no fight you. We help."

The man grunts at you, in obvious discomfort at the language difficulties. "Your friends you follow. They will die. You leave now. Go back."

To Rolvark, he says "Not need any help. We destroy invaders. Protect land.

"What friends? It's just us here! We're not following anyone!", Malik enters the conversation again, fists clenched, and eyes racing from one ambusher to another.

"Don't waste your time with pointless fighting, guys!"

Malik is now on the edge. If the natives close in weapons drawn, he's determined to protect the pathfinders.

Malik: You are following the trail of other humans, presumably the shadow lodge agents. As for the weapons, they are lowered and neither the weapons nor the natives are actively threatening you.

:-)

"You follow trail made yesterday. Only people out here. You must be part of other group."

"No part of other group. They are bad men. We hunt them. We follow trail. For our honor"