Vosi nods. "The shards are held by Elvanna and her witches, but our agreement is with Baba Yaga. This is bad. Some fey will follow Elvanna in hopes of more power. Some will follow out of fear. Some will be tricky and fight her. Some will resist and die. Could change everything."
Nathara thinks about this for a moment. "We need those shards back... at least yours. Then the fey would be out of their current predicament and free to choose their own fate." For good or for ill that is. "I have no idea how we might steal them from right under Elvanna's nose, though, but it may help if there were fey sympathetic to that cause. Maybe there is a way to rob the palace without getting caught... There has bound to be an enormous amount of them. And it may be tricky to tell which belongs to whom."
She rubs her temple with back of the claws of her free hand while the other holds her pen over the ink vial. "Unfortunately that is not the plan right now... still, it must be done."
Evelyn's ears perk up at the mention of the fey attacking Elvanna. "If we find those that stand against her we could offer to help, enemy of my enemy kind of thing. If we get the shards we'll be able to gain their trust and turn a lot more against her."
"Indeed. The path shall be unveiled to us as we tread further." Nathara remarks. It was a good thing that Evelyn considered the possibility as well. They would have to fool quite a number of witches and their guards and convince fey to change sides if they wanted to pull this off.
Nathara continued her writing, trying to recall not only the exact words but also the emphasizes and impressions beneath the words.
To Tiferet, the passing of knowledge has always been an oral tradition, so as Nathara and Inire retire to write down their impressions of the portentous experience they've just shared (and Eirikr and Ashen have gone hunting), she finds herself walking to and fro among the Irriseni campsite, lost in thought.
Not too much time passes before her attention is drawn by the fallen troll and his mighty weapon. She kneels to check if there's something noteworthy among their foes' possessions the Rider's unexpected arrival has caused them to miss.
Tiferet's search of the campsite does uncover several things on the bodies of the fey and the troll. The two sprites have little other than their weapons and armor, but Vosi is more than happy to stuff his quiver with extra arrows. Hommelstaub carries a number of magical and alchemical tricks. He has:
- A scroll written in Sylvan
- A second scroll in different handwriting
- A bluish silver potion
- Three vials of liquid ice
- A back-up thunderstone
The troll carries almost nothing on his person aside from his oversized armor and his spear. Interestingly, the spear shifts to a size more comfortable for a human as soon as Tiferet examines it.
Before he returns to the clearing with whatever he managed to get on his hunt, Eirikr shifts back to his human form. Once he looks human again, he finds the rest of they party and assists with setting up camp.
"Once we go through the portal, we'll be in Irrisen," muses Eirikr to no one in particular. "The witches--they'll still be looking for the rider, and we'll be right close to where they were looking for him. Even if we don't run into them, we'll probably run into somebody there--and we don't really look like we belong in Irrisen."
"Well, at least--most of us don't," he continues, glancing at Morgraine. "But we need to come up with a story for what we're doing in Irrisen. Anyone have any plans?"
Tiferet peruses through the duo's belongings, easily identifying the scrolls' purpose as she manages to successfully reproduce one of Nathara's incantations. The potion and the spear, however, prove another matter entirely, eluding any attempt to discern their powers – though the latter's magical resizing is proof enough of its more-than-mundane properties.
Luckily, she has an easier time with the items in the chest. Even if I spent my whole life as a mercenary, I could never make such a sum she reflects as she looks at the veritable piles of gold and valuables it contains. Most swords-for-hire would call the quest over at this point, and retire to a life of luxury. Yet clearly, this wasn't the path that was laid down in front of her. I guess this makes me no longer a mercenary, then. An involuntary smile graces her face as she comes to this realization.
Remembering her dismal performance in the previous fight, she's quick to slip one of the vials in her pouch. The other items she lays down on the cave floor for the others to inspect. She then calls for Eve and Morgraine for help her with the inventory. "How much do you think all of this might be worth, Eve? Oh, and I can't quite realize what magic has been weaved into this spear."
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"It wouldn't be too uncommon for a Jadwiga to travel with an Ulfen bodyguard acting as her harbinger. If Morgraine feels like acting the part, I mean." With a gravity so deep it can only be perceived as the jest it clearly is, she kneels in front of the pale sorceress. "Please, fair mistress, accept my humble services. I look forward to whatever punishments your righteous ire shall see fit to bestow me, so as to be moulded into a better servant for you and your most radiant household."
Nathara manages to identify the spear as she joins later. "A spear of manhunting. You may imobilize the target if you hit.. well, once per day. It does work only on 'humanoids', however, in a very arcane interpretation of the word. It does not work on me, for example, quod erat demonstrandum." She rubs her side, where the wound which the spear had created had been.
"Let Vosi and me have a look at the Sylvan writing..." She starts to translate it as soon as she has it.
As Eirikr returns with food, and Nathara finishes with her writing and conversation, Inire slips quietly into one of the igloos, taking off her backpack. At first she's confused by her outfit - thoroughly so. The buttons were more like studs, which meant they were more for show... and had nothing to do with removing the outfit. Likewise, the belt wasn't particularly useful, as it was just a solid ring of leather. She took off her furs, looking for whatever secret her outfit had beneath them... but finds nothing. Finally, she simply tries to pull it off, and the armor disappears, albeit slowly. Silver accents disappear first. Strands of black fade and disappear, leaving more strands visible as the outfit reveals more of the leather below as it disappears over the course of a few seconds.
She watches the entire process, curiously... but then pulls off the studded leather she'd... procured back in Heldren. The process was considerably less swift than taking the other armor off had been, but once she's out, she wonders how to put the armor back on. No sooner had she asked herself that question than it had reformed, seemingly at the speed of thought. Raven buttons once more faced inwards. The outfit was slightly different from before, tighter. Without the leather beneath, it instead clung to her clothes. Little had changed, as tiny mouse was far from curvy.
She then proceeds to tug on her furs once more, curling into a shape similar to a ball as she uses her knees as a desk to write in her journal once more. She can vaguely make out the conversation outside, but doesn't pay too much attention to it. If they needed her, there would be shouting, or whispers. Whispers that she could hear.
"It looks Eirikr is going to have a new toy, then" Tiferet says, though the association of Eirikr and 'manhunting' can't help but remind her of the times he overheard the ruddy boy mention the name of Jezelda.
She discards the thought with nothing but a shiver as she hands Nathara the requested scrolls. "It should be the same spell he used to make the Alchemist's Fire slip down ineffectively when I threw it at him."
While their set up at camp Evelyn tries to get a rough guess at the value of the things they've found.
Eve takes the time to examine the more mundane items in the treasure horde. The painting and the carving are a bit hard for her to put a value on, but it doesn't take her long to value the rest of the items. The blue gem stones are worth 100 gp each, the diadem is worth 300 gp, the diamond is worth 500 gp, the necklace is worth 400 gp, the rings are worth 75 gp each, and the scabbard is worth 125 gp.
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"It wouldn't be too uncommon for a Jadwiga to travel with an Ulfen bodyguard acting as her harbinger. If Morgraine feels like acting the part, I mean." With a gravity so deep it can only be perceived as the jest it clearly is, she kneels in front of the pale sorceress. "Please, fair mistress, accept my humble services. I look forward to whatever punishments your righteous ire shall see fit to bestow me, so as to be moulded into a better servant for you and your most radiant household."...
So long as we don't meet someone who knows I'm an exile who has even less business being in Irrisen than any of you... she thinks before pasting a smile onto her face.
"Perhaps. Though we'll need a deal less sass in your tone if we expect it to be believable," Morgraine says with a small laugh. Then she turns more serious. "It won't see us through an invitation to court or anything like that, but for traveling on the roads it may serve. I will think of some reason for my being out and about - though without knowing the full situation over there it may be difficult. For all we know Elvanna could have the place under martial law as she hunts dissidents."
"Manhunting. Sounds like fun," says Eirikr as he takes the spear in his hand. "Guess you can never have enough spears. Still like mine better though."
While everyone outside is talking about it, she gets the basic gist of what they're doing, and compartmentalizes it to share her thoughts later.
Morgraine continues, " A traveling Jadwiga would normally have an entourage, guards and servants. Tiferet, you and Eirikr would pass well enough for Ulfen guards, I think.
Neither of you would get a second look under normal situations, so long as you remain deferential to any Jadwiga we meet and have reason to travel, which as my guards, you would.
Now, for the rest, virtually the only foreigners in Irissen are the Varisian and Tian merchants that bring the food and goods necessary to keep the nation running. Eve and Mouse might pass as these, though merchants without goods to sell might raise eyebrows. Perhaps they were robbed and now have been allowed to travel with me for protection as they seek redress?
Which leaves Nathara. I will not hide it, she is likely to be looked down on by most. She might pass for a tiefling, looked down upon, but if we are lucky, shouldn't attract undo notice.
Of anyone here she will see the most suspicion and would be watched more closely. However, I could probably pass her off as mine; a personal servant or bodyguard also specialized in assassination perhaps.
Eirikr bristles at the idea of having to play the servant--well, bodyguard, which was better than servant, but still. And the idea of having to play the cowering peasant to every noble they met, even if Morgraine would make a better master than any he'd ever met in Ustalav. At least, she probably would. But it was either that or fight every Jadwiga they met, and that would probably get tiresome after the first few.
"Alright. But I won't do any curtsies. Ashen and I don't do tricks, do we Ashen?" he says, crossing his arms; Ashen sits up, his ears alert--and then he offers his paw to Morgraine. Eirikr swats his paw down, but Ashen immediately offers it again.
"Lily's loaded up with treasure. Maybe she's their cargo?"
"So I'm about to get punished? You're a natural, Morgraine!" Tiferet mockingly says, standing up.
"As for goods, there's another small fortune in coins and works of art in the cave. Irriseni in origin, surely, but it might be they mean to make the perilous voyage across the Crown of the World and use them to bring back Tian luxuries on their return. We won't probably have the chance to trade them in any time soon, so once loaded up on Lily, they should lend credibility to our story."
Morgraine smiles, crouches down in front of Ashen and takes his offered paw solemnly. "Very well Ashen, I will take you into my service" She grins and ruffles the fur atop his head before rising.
"I will not ask you to do tricks Eirikr, not unless it is necessary - and it may well become necessary. I do not know what the future holds. To that end, we will just have to trust each other, yes?" She says, looking the man in the eye.
To Tiferet, "Excellent, I had nearly forgotten Lily. If there is plunder to add to her stores, it should aid our deception."
Nathara smirks at Eirikr. "Did you know that in elven there are about one and half dozen words that translate into 'curtsey' or 'bow' depending on the context? As a dancer I know all variations, not just those meant to be used by a female. Let me know should you ever reconsider."
"I am going to see whether I can create something to veil my appearance out of what we have..."
Nathara starts browsing through the furs they have and tries to find useful pieces of cloth, as well as something she can use as improvised tools for sewing. Then she starts to clamp and fold the pieces together in order to try different arrangements.
Finally she sits down to create a hooded cape, with a veil for the face.
"Vosi, could you give me a hand here please and might I borrow one of your arrows? You are better at manipulating fine details than I am. Oh... and let me know if anyone else needs anything. Hm... I wish I had mage hand prepared."
Nathara's winter cloak already has a usable hood, which she's able to modify to suit her purposes with little effort. A bit of extra cloth makes up the difference and covers her face.
"Traitor," says Eirikr to Ashen with a frown. He looks at Morgraine and shrugs his shoulders, and then, with his hands gripping the sides of his cloak, he makes a dramatic flourish that turns into a curtsey--at least, what he half remembers a curtsey being. "My lady. I live to serve. I can fetch, and play dead and roll over. I still won't beg though."
Nathara claps as Erikr performs his curtsey. "You do have a remarkable charm, Mister Wolf." and with a nod to Ashen: "Both of you, course."
She puts on her adjusted modified cloak tugs the hood in proper position so that she can see and asks: "Will that work?" her voice is of course dampened by the cloth in front of her mouth.
With a glance at their accumulated wealth she remarks: "We really need to find some kind of trading post in Irrisen, if such a thing exists. With all the little treasure accumulated we would have enough to exchange some of it for very decent equipment that is also easier to transport."
It would not be difficult to do that in Oppara or in Absalom, but Irrisen is a different story.
Morgraine nods while wearing a wryly amused expression as Eirikr makes his 'proper obeisance'.
"Mysterious and deadly. The perfect left hand for a Jadwinga intent on playing the game of... ahem... politics" Tiferet says appreciatively.
She sighs when Nathara mentions a trading post. "It all depends on where this portal opens on the other side, I suppose. If it's near a major settlement like Whitethrone... we should be so lucky. The Rider spoke of wilderness surrounding it, but we know this Mistress, this... Nazhena Vasilliovna must have her centre of power nearby, too. This Pale Tower. This means there's likely to be a village not too far from it, which the Witch's stronghold depends on for provisions. I would not let my hopes get too high, though. Some backwater thorp, probably. In the meantime, it will serve as our intrepid traders' merchandise."
"Speaking of which" she adds thoughtfully, "it would be unusual for two merchants to wander alone through Irrisen's frozen wastelands. Perhaps one of us should act as their bodyguard, rather than Morgraine's..."
"I've heard stories--of wolves who talk like men, up in the North. Up in Irrisen. I might fit in there better than you think," says Eirikr with a shrug of his shoulders as he heads towards the cave. "Wake me when it's my turn for the watch. Tomorrow--Irrisen."
He always speaks of monsters... to the point that I wonder if he doesn't consider himself one. I wonder if in the Realm of Monsters he'll finally find some sense of belonging... Tiferet thinks as Eirikr take his leave.
"Since it appears you're already well protected, Milady, I'll humbly take my leave from your service... Who knows, perhaps two intrepid merchants will hire me?"
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+1 v surprise
Inire finishes taking notes in her diary and then moves into position to take her watch... And eat.
Her previous attempts to maintain distance from the loss that was inherent to the world around her had failed at this point. Distance was impossible when you have direct access to the memory of when someone's life was put onto the path that lead to their demise. But perhaps even greater was the fact that she had been a part of that death. That the man had sacrificed himself - not for her, no - so that she would be strong enough to succeed where he had failed.
A piece of him, his quest, at the very least was now a permanent part of her, and nothing short of divinity could free her from that. A part of her wondered if, if the mantle were passed on again, would the new person see her in this moment? First step settling onto a path that would not allow for deviations or mistakes?
She couldn't view this moment - far too real - in the black and white of charcoal and paper. There was far too much red-on-white for that.
People died. It was simply a part of life. A portion of life that was easy to accept within a society filled with men and women whose spirits often lead them to glory... Or death. But this was the first time she had lost someone with whom she shared a very real and very vivid memory. Certainly they had not been friends, but now... Now there was far too much intimacy for that.
Inire sat near their fire, watching and listening, twisting buttons with hands-never-idle. Silver-on-black, tossing and turning like sleepers in the night.
As the conversation slowly dies out and the fragrant aroma of the fruit of Eirikr's foraging starts filling the air, Tiferet pulls the traps down from Lily's load and lays them around the Portal.
Later that night, she's tossing and turning in her blanket, sweating despite the freezing temperatures. Sleep has not come easily and, once weariness finally overcame her, it has not been of the soothing kind; rather, visions plaguing her dreams, cackling crones, and the stern visage of ghostly ancestors silently pronouncing her anathema to her Clan and her heritage.
So it's little surprise her turn to stand watch finds her already alert and lucid. Truth be told, it's not just nightmares that have been keeping her awake. She feels energetic, empowered, frenetic. The world around her has become deeper, the colours more vivid; she hears and perceives things once secret, once whispered. All of a sudden, there was more in the world, or better yet there was more world willing to open up to her senses; and there was more of her as well, accordingly. She has spent all her life dragged by the flows and undertows of destiny, unaware of the larger scope, a living creature oblivious of its own being alive, carried by the currents. Now, the forces arrayed against her were no less titanic, probably more; but for the first time in her life, she feels like she can swim.
And yet, her internal struggle hasn't abated. Having temporarily left her sleeping companions to the protection of Nathara's watchful eye, she's piled her clothes and weapon in a tidy stack within reach (should any threat befall upon the camp in this unfortunate moment), and she's now kneeling naked in the snow, performing her obedience. She's soaring upon the endless northern wastes, but this time, there's no dawn in sight, only a deeper, more sinister night. The northern lights are far and gloomy, bathing the horizon in a spectral, eerie light. The connection with her deeper core, once so easy and strong, is now tenuous and shaking like her faith.
She opens her eyes, grimacing in frustration. The water in the bowls has evaporated. She stands up, but instead of getting dressed, her bare feet lead her to a patch of loose soil among the snow-covered, frozen ground – the unmarked grave of one of the North's most legendary creatures. She didn't say a prayer for the fallen Rider then and she's not saying one now – whatever god (if any) he had worshipped in his mortal life, time and myth would have long obscured by now, and Tiferet doubts he continued his devotion into his service to the Queen of Witches. She stands there motionless for a while, pondering about the mystery that has tied their fates together – no, that has made hers a continuation of his.
Aside from the constant low sound of wind blowing from the icy portal, the night is utterly silent and slightly... ominous. The sun is almost reluctant to rise in the morning, peaking over the trees and casting long shadows over the snowy ground.
When morning comes, Eirikr and Ashen leave their resting place in the cave and make their way towards the portal; Eirikr tries to get a glance through it, but the snow and ice coming through it is too great for him to get a glance of anything.
"Do we want to try to scout it first?" says Eirikr. He looks over at Vosi, a smile crossing his face as he does. "Vosi is the smallest of us--and he would probably blend in pretty well."
"I don't think many merchants would use scouts so if they get caught our cover might be blown, I think it's best to just head in all at once and play it by ear from there."
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"Well, there's bound to be some degree of forward guard, either way. And the same range we've been using wouldn't be all that questionable." she adds, offering a small smile.
"But I agree. Definitely much better to pass through all at once...ish. If we rely on people coming back to let us know, we're hanging them out to dry. If we rely on just following them in a few moments later, we're just splitting up to be taken down more easily... and then there's the fact that maybe everything's okay, but we can't get back the way we entered..." she says, offering a shrug as her eyes scanned the treeline once more.
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"There's always some degree of risk involved, whatever option we'll end up taking" says Tiferet joining Eirikr in front of the portal, the hint of bags under her eyes testament to her tumultuous night.
"If there's no-one guarding the other side, as Illarion's words and the fact no-one tried to cross the Portal to check on Teb's silence would suggest, it really makes no difference – other than the very real possibility Inire suggested" she reasons, arms folded. "If there is some kind of presence, on the other hand... then we'll be better off facing it all as one than in dribs and drabs." Coming through a supposedly guarded Portal from the other side of Golarion would hardly qualify us as merchants, after all.
"I say we all enter the Portal, together."
"Right, then. Well, let's go through," says Eirikr, heading through the portal, Ashen following behind him.
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Nathara follows Tiferet with her eyes as she walks to the rider's grave, nor does she comment on it. To honour ones fallen foes and to be able to forgive them their darkest deeds (not that Nathara knew any dark deeds she could attribute to the rider, but she did not doubt they were feared for a reason), displays a greatness of heart. Nathara herself thinks neither good nor ill of him. There are lots of things she would like to know, but few she would have to say. She wonders whether she should feel more, but she will not fake compassion were none exists.
For now she casts the thought aside and pierces the darkness with her eyes and lets her feet find their own way on regular, short patrols. The feet of a dancer are not meant to stand still.
It feels strange to actually walk through the portal now. It was very well possible that their life would end within the next few hours... then again, that had always been the case since their group had decided to stand up against the winter and follow through with it. Her feelings might be mixed, but the strength of her faith that they would survive somehow even amplified itself when she realized it. She smiled.
"Given yesterday's events, sticking together sounds vastly preferable to me. I don't want any of us to be exposed like this again." She seems even amused as she continues: "I am not inclined to make the same mistake twice."
She lines up at the portal, ready to follow right behind Tiferet at Ashen. "I am curious whereas the witches saw the forboding of our arrival in the stars." She did not sound like the thought particularly frightened her. Quite contrary, drastic turns of fate would hardly be veiled from the witches, whether or not they could help it. And Nathara hoped their group which shared the mantle of a rider would change the fate of the witches massively. "I have a feeling that Desna is with us."
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Her steps led her inevitably before the portal. Picking her way carefully by the moon's light so as to not set off one of Tiferet's traps, she came to stand just before the abyss. The wind swirled about her, blowing out from within the portal and whipping her hair and cloak as if trying to bow her over backwards. She leaned into the storm, eyes tearing against the wind; tears freezing as she squinted into the darkness. One word formed upon her lips as it simultaneously flooded her mind:
Home...
That single word brought a rush of emotion Morgraine had long buried and forbidden herself from feeling. It all came rushing back at once, hitting her like a blow to the stomach and threatening to succeed where the wind had failed in bringing her to her knees. The longing, the homesickness of the months away flooded her being. Images of people she had left, friends and enemies both. Images of her home, of the forest where she had hunted as a teenager. The beauty of the sun’s rays as they kissed and shone upon the frozen lakes. The promise when her power had begun to blossom. The incredible sense of loss when it had all come crashing down and it was all ripped away from her. The sound of Lydilia’s laughter ringing in her ears as she tore Morgraine’s power from her very being. The sorrow, the seething anger, the loneliness that came after as she fled. Now, in the present: fear. Fear of failure. Fear of it all happening all over again. Something had reawakened within her, despite Lydilia’s spells – yet she knew she was still but a shell of her former self. She was not ready to face Lydilia – nevermind Elvanna herself and all the covens and armies of Irissen, Night’s mantle or no. Yet fate had brought her here for its own purposes. She must go on. Destiny was inexorable.
Morgraine dropped to her knees and, perhaps for the first time in her life, began to pray. She did not know to who - it did not matter, so long as someone heard. She sat in the snow long minutes after the words drifted away. If there was an answer to her silent cries, the only one she heard came in the form of something nudging against her side. Morgraine pulled Kettu into her lap and hugged him close...
That morning, a tired looking Morgraine shared what bits of useful information she could think of with the others. Common greetings and farewells, proper attitudes and demeanor when addressing the Jadwiga or a Winter Witch. Common trading practices, including what goods were typically valued highly (merchants usually trading minerals or furs for cloth, wood, or food that doesn't grow in Irrisen's cold).
"I agree. Entering together would be advisable." Morgraine says, though it seemed to have been already decided anyway. She yawns and rubbs her eyes then looks at the portal. A look of determination hardens upon her face and she and Kettu take position in line to go through after Nathara.
The instant the party touches the portal, they feel overwhelming, utter cold filling their entire bodies. Frost begins to form on their clothing and they can feel the chill down to their bones as they push against the wind. Then they burst through the other side, completely unharmed. They stumble forward a few steps, nearly tumbling down a snowy hillside. They are once again in a snowy forest, though far closer to the edge than the Border Woods. They can see the trees beginning to thin out at the bottom of the hill the portal is placed on top of.
Inire takes the time to disable each of the traps in front of the portal, to ensure that there aren't any accidents (and for later use) and makes sure that the studded leather (if no one desires it), as well as the traps are also loaded onto Lily before readying herself to go through.
She's somewhat surprised when Eirikr crosses with a complete lack of ceremony, but patiently waits for the others to travel through; she'd be the fastest on her feet once through, so 'bringing up the rear' only made sense.
Once on the other side, she would begin to look around the portal to see if she could figure out some way to... for lack of a better idea... break it.
The first thing that Eirikr feels is the cold--it's colder than back in Taldor--it's colder than it ever got back in Ustalav in the winter, even. He wraps his cloak tightly around himself as he walks past the portal and into Irrisen. It looks--not that different from Taldor, though the forest is less thick here. He looks to the edge of the wood, trying to see if they are close to a settlement or outpost--hopefully not too close, as that would give their cover away.
He stops for a second, ignoring the sound of his companions following behind him. He can hear something--a sound coming from down below the hill--a battle, perhaps, though it is too far away to tell just from the noise.
"Something's happening. Down at the bottom of the hill," he says, moving in the direction of the noise, Ashen bounding after him.