Very well. Hammas jerks with all her, now reduced, might and begins running/climbing up the tunnel. If the rope starts getting pulled up faster than she is moving, she will just hold on to that.
"No but if you try the same bullsh*t as that grig we met before we'll kill you just the same. We're in these lands trying to rid them of threats to Brevic sovereignty. Mostly bandits, and whatever 'monsters' we come across." Roga says, making air quotes when he says monsters. "My name is Roga. Who are you?" The Kellid inquires, bowing slightly.
Inuki tries to soothe Roga. He remembers stories of people cursed by the fey for some ignorant offense. "No need to threaten. Our intentions are peaceful if yours are. I am Inuki Talespinner."
"I'm sorry for being so gruff. It's just after being nice last time I was rewarded with lacerations and smoke damage to my lungs. I'd prefer a peaceful interaction as well."
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"Well, that is very promising indeed. Your kind usually kill the grig ones on sight. Humans do that is." she goes on, nodding an apologetic exception to Inuki, "For generations, the grig have watched over these wilds, and for generations hunters and trappers have slain the small ones for freeing animals from traps, or because of their small habit of collecting shiny things, regardless of what you call ownership."
The atomie gestures to the bag of berries, "You have a rather large bag of berries there that belongs to me. How do you intend on paying for those? If you be not bandits, I assume you do not mean just to steal from my home."
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"A favor. I have been watching you for quite a while. I have a good idea of where you are heading, and what you are up to. Soon, you will learn the whereabout a ring gone missing that is belonging to a friend of yours. Inside the same set of burrows where you will intend to be finding a ring, you will locate a small jar containing a lock of silver hair. I need that jar, with self same the hair intact."
"I'm fine with that. If we come across the jar we'll bring it here next time we come this way." Roga agrees. "We might have a better chance of finding it if you could be more specific about its location."
"We didn't know that you owned the berries." Jutmon shrugs.
"There is bound to be misunderstanding, when two cultures meet. You know little of our ways,(And care less, if you're a grig, apparently) and we know nothing of yours.
Jutmon gives the atomie a serious, level gaze."Before I agree to getting this lock of hair for you, you must tell us who it belonged to, and to what use you intent to put it. The berries are not so important, we can leave them with you, if we don't care for your answers.
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"I only know that you will be there, I don't know when. The bandits you were after can tell you the where."
The small fey waves her hand over the ground, and a small three dimensional map of the grove materializes, glimmering in soft pink tones.
"This is where we are. See, that is you right there! You look kind of silly and ungainly, but hey, that is how life is for some. Moving on."
Before your eyes, the strange magical map expands and grows, as if you were now looking down on the strange glowing forest from a great height.
"This river, just north of us, is the one you were clever enough to fall into. Simply follow it north."
As the sapphire line of a river to the north of your location pulses brilliantly in the illusory map, a bright green ball travels along the course sweeping due north, stopping just as it enters the woods. "Here you will find your bandits, and they will send you in the correct direction."
The atomie claps her hands, and the map explodes into a million glittering motes of light, quickly fading in the growing darkness. "I will be watching!"
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Studying Jutmon carefully, the small creature starts and suddenly halts a dozen times trying to explain, the sighs. "The hair belongs to a nymph. She was my . . . She was very special to me for a very long time." Her voice drifts off and silence falls uncomfortably over the grove, hanging heavily in the air as the atomie collects herself.
The fey's eyes grow misty as she continues, "Then a mortal, like you, betrayed her to . . well she was betrayed. You will learn the rest eventually, but not now. My nymph was the most beautiful of her sisters. When she was betrayed, her eyes were plucked from her skull, her hair shorn off, her face ruined, and her body scarred beyond recognition. Now she lives in eternal torment. I mean to use the hair to locate her," The woman meets Jutmon's gaze head on, eyes burning with a deep and unabashed hatred. " And then I mean kill her. It is time for her suffering to end. It has taken me decades to build my strength. Now I am ready.."
"And before you ask, no. I will not be sharing her name. That is all I have left, and I am not sharing."
Jutmon bows his head in empathy. "I'm sorry for your loss. I guess both mortals, and fey, share the same emotions. Emotions that sometimes, are too strong. You can count on my help."
Hammas is in obvious awe of the fey's magical map. I wish I could do that.
Once the fey has shared her story. I too am sorry. Continuing in Sylvan, I found the body of a grig. She is yours, but I will give her to the stars if the burden is too heavy.
Removing the tiny body from her clothes, offers it to the fey.
"Thank you for sharing with us the location of the bandits. Whoever did that to your friend deserves to die, and your nymph deserves rest. I will try my best to help you." Roga says after listening to everything. Turning to his companions he says, "How about we deliver the berries, head back to Oleg's for resupply and then head out to take care of the bandits? That was after all our original mission."
Ought to track down the she-troll before anything else. Right we've got a good trail and she's injured.
If objections are raised. She'll come back to avenge 'er mate and our scent is all over this place now. Anyhow, promised her, gesturing towards the fey. I would.
"She won't have stayed injured for more than a couple minutes would she? Even injured I still consider troll fighting suicide at this point. Their claws can rip a horse to shreds in an instant, how are we going to fare better?" Roga seems annoying that the newcomer is again insisting on suicide.
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Nothing enters the glade over the course of the night. No birds, no fox, wolf, rabbit. Nothing. You have a delicious dozen hours of completely unmolested rest.
The morning sun shines brightly on the white driven snow. The slow but constant night breeze has redistributed the snow, hiding all trace that any battle occurred here the preceding day.
No answer comes from within the hole should you wish to check, and it appears that someone or something has deliberately caused several small scale cave-ins, limiting the space available for easy access substantially.
Nodding to Nareth, Glad I'm not the only one with sense.
Hammas glares at Roga, Burns heal as slow for them as for us. You're as ignorant about trolls as I am the swordlords. We'll fare better because we ain't horses. You fight trolls the same way you'd fight a bear. Trap it and stay out of reach. Anyhow, you aren't obligated. I am.
The next day, on seeing the freshly driven snow, Hammas begins to swear vigorously in orcish and angrily packs up her gear. Let's find those zòrèy krinit bandits!
After spending a few hours fuming, the half-orc approaches Nareth. You seem almost sensible. How'd you end up with this lot? And, Gesturing to his holy symbol, Him.
"Sergei, Jutmon, Inuki what do you suggest for our next move?" Roga asks the quieter party members.
"You seem to be very critical of 'This Lot', friend Hammas. Makes me wonder why you would want to throw in with us."
Jutmon shrugs, he doesn't really care if Hammas stays or goes, at this point. Her survival skills are overbalanced by her lack of social grace and suicidal bravado.
I'm with you Roga. We found some wealth, maybe we can get some better equipment while we are at Oleg's. An actual bed would make a welcome change as well."
Genuinely puzzled, Why do you call me friend when you don't mean it? I asked because I'm curious, not to give offense. You're all odd folks and odder still as a group, so I want to know the story. Asked him because we seem to get along, but would hear yours as well. If you care to tell it. I'm here because you're willing to take on the Stag Lord. Not many are, and that's worth a lot.
As for offense, it seems that you're as critical of me as I am of you, and for less cause. I haven't called you bandits, nor done like you and threatened a fey.
"The grig we met first played tricks on us, which we responded to mildly, with a friendly offer to help him get something he might want. It was actually Nareth's terseness that set the fey off. The little vermin animated plants to try and kill us, and filled our camp with caustic smoke. We have good reason to be wary of fey. They are fickle creatures."
Certain it was a grig? They can't kill you with plants. Trip you up or slow ya down, sure, but not kill. Only the greater fey have powers like that. Smoke sounds right though, and the tricks. It's their nature, but usually pretty harmless. Killing or real harm isn't like them.
To Nareth, What'd you do?
"It was a small cricket-like creature, I believe they're called grig. The plants would have only killed us if we'd been already hurt, but they did leave some nasty cuts. The small dragonfly-winged woman was much more reasonable. I do hope we can have a peaceful relationship with her."
Sergei shoved the pistol into the holster at his hip after cleaning it and looked up. He pointed at Hammas, "You have been here for less then two nights, and I don't trust you anymore then I trust the wild creatures of the stolen lands. Your argument about being so better equipped then bandits is a straw man fallacy because we know the Stag Lord has well-equipped bandits in the area, and you have been mighty eager to put us in harms way. We have already seen what a troll can do, we lost a horse to it before we even knew what happened. I have no interest in losing my life to a troll, wounded or not. I will return to Oleg's if you insist to pursue the troll." He went about collecting the reminder of his supplies as he continued to say his peace.
"I have no love for the fey after our first encounter with them. The grig meant us harm as the smoke was stifling and meant to keep us in her entangled and thorny plants would could have done great harm had we been wounded or not been lucky enough to escape it in time, and while I feel they died bravely I feel no need to avenge their deaths. You informed one of their kind and delivered a grig to them and they will deal with their own. That one seemed reasonably more peaceful, but still strutted around like he owned the place. These lands are ruled by Brevoy as recognized by the law, and we are under no obligation to deal with the native wildlife about here. My only interest is putting my pistol over the heart of the Stag Lord and burning it from his chest as his men did to me years ago." Sergei said speaking the most words that he had spoken the entire time they had been in the Stolen Lands it seemed.
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As the others debate on troll hunting and Hammas, Nareth crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. As the others continue with their argument and exressing their opinions, Nareth suddenly says "Most of you have expressed interest in why I follow the Prince in Chains, or as you know him Zon-Kuthon. Would any of you like to know why?" As he speaks his eyes scan their faces
To Roga, Me too. Most usually don't go for it, but if a little folk gets upset enough, they'll turn invisible and slit you're throat in the dark. And the atomie, dragonfly back there, has more magic than I'm comfortable with to boot.
Hammas nods, Debts need to be paid. So you know, try to laugh and see the humor when a fey tricks you. They like it, and if someone seems too serious they try to help out by tricking them more. Just how they are. And yes, I'd like to know. It's why I asked.
Surprised by Sergei's speech, Well that's plainly said and not unfair. And yeah she acted like she owned the place, it's hers. By the Freedoms and whatever rule the fey have. What matters is who's here and who isn't. Only real law there is. For your intent, when it comes time, I'll hold him down for ya if ya like. That's something even 'beasts' can understand.
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"When I was in need Zon-Kuthon granted me power. At first it was indirectly, such as making my wounds heal faster" he coughs and looks around before going on "However, my need grew as my enemies did. Without his aid I would have been cast aside or killed. Eventually I discovered it was he who granted me my magic, and that it came at a cost" He pauses, then begins rolling up his sleeves "The Prince in Chains demands pain, demands blood and torture from his followers. Most people fulfill this demand upon others..." he finishes rolling up sleeves, then peels red bandages off to reveal his forearms "...while I shoulder the burden myself" deep knots of old and fresh scars criss cross his arms. Some are so fresh they're still bleeding. However, to a trained eye it's clear that the cuts were surgically done to avoid causing any permanent damage or impairment of movement, however painful they are.
He lets the cool air wash over his arms for a moment, then sets to applying new bandages while occasionally glancing up at the others reactions "I have a debt to be paid, but it can never be fulfilled, and so instead of spreading the misery of this curse I came up with a way to shelter the rest of the world from it" he finishes bandaging his arms up, then rolls his sleeves down, feeling his own heart beat as he waits for the others reactions
Roga simply grunts at Nareth's revalation. "At least I don't need to kill you then." He says with a smile and a wink.
Jutmon listens to Nareth and shakes his head. "That is a heavy burden you bear, my friend."
What can be said to such a story? Jutmon imagines that Nareth could find redemption in a temple of Shelyn. It is never so simple as that, though. Jutmon, himself has been known to call on Nethys. A god only slightly less troubled than the Midnight Lord. Life is complicated, and choices are seldom easy.
"Who says I don't mean it? You have done no harm, so far. A few insults, perhaps you don't even know you are being insulting. As I said to that fey, just now. Differing cultures. Maybe we can still work it out." This last is directed at Hammas.
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Nareth inclines his head to Jutmon. After a moment he takes a deep breath, and the air seems to clear "I shared that for two reasons. One, you have traveled with me long enough and trusted me that you deserve to not feel like I'm keeping something secret from you. And a cleric who follows an evil god keeping secrets never ends well. Two" he smiles a little thinly "Due to some of these things I have quite the experience with pain and torture, including conducting it. I know when someone is lying, it's my job" his eyes flick to Hammas "And I don't believe she could tell me the wrong time of day without it being blatantly obvious"
"But that's what I meant dear Nareth. You are brave enough to handle the pain yourself instead of inflicting it on others. It is for this reason that I would never seek to harm you, and now consider you a friend. Shared battle is quick to make brothers of strangers." He then pauses briefly. "As for Hammas," he says turning to look at her, "she may be a bit suicidal but I don't think she's a threat to us. While I have no proof of her trustworthiness yet, I suspect Oleg could provide such. I'm happy to have her along for now. It's also another reason to go to Oleg's before the bandit camp."
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Nareth smirks a little at 'dear', but when Roga finishes he inclines his head "You are very understanding Roga, thank you for your patience and wisdom" He turns so he addresses the party in general "I believe most of us, including myself are of the same opinion for our next destination; Oleg's. Once there we can decide on our next course of action in the warmth and light of shelter, agreed?"
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Four days and night pass in relative peace. Having two horses makes the river crossing much easier, enabling the group to safely get across with little difficulty. The weeks on end of travelling through the frozen lands has begun to take its toll on the bard, however; and he finishes each day's journey frozen to the core, huddled against the fire trying to restore circulation. At sunset on the fourth day, you find yourselves back in the foothills just a couple days ride south of Oleg's outpost. You have managed to set up a comfortable as possible camp.
The bard is, per usual, near frozen, having suffered through another day of trudging through knee deep snow.
Roga approaches the bard as they are making camp. "We must see about getting you a horse. It pains me to see you frozen like this. Starting now, you must ride Midnight with me. That will at least keep you out of the snow."
Thank you for that. And sure, Oleg's sounds fine. Hammas nods solemnly to Nareth, and falls silent.
The wizard has the right of it, that is a heavy burden, and a troubling one. The priest's bargain sounds uncomfortably close to slavery, and that has no place here, not even, or especially, if it involves gods.
Hammas will keep an eye on the weather, warning her companions of what is likely to come, and taking whichever watch is the darkest. Her interactions with Nareth have a new watchfulness or wariness to them, as though she were looking for something. She still spends more time with him than the others.
Seeing Inuki's poor condition, Hammas offers him one of her winter blankets as a they travel. Not as good as real clothing, but it's a lot better. If there is any night that his condition seems dangerous, or just more than uncomfortable, Hammas will offer him use of her tent. It don't mean nothin', but between me and Garm you'll be fine. Frostbite's too serious to mess around.
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One evening when they come to rest Nareth approaches Inuki "Do you mind if I see your feet? I'm afraid of frostbite setting in" Nareth takes a moment to see how seriously the cold is effecting him, then grunts and gets a journal out. He rips some pages out and shreds them with a knife, packing them into Inuki's boots "This might provide some insulation, keep your feet warm and generally you'll get a lot warmer. Also I'd take Roga up on that offer, I don't believe a strong creature like Midnight would mind a few more pounds"
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Everyone is just beginning to lay out for a much deserved rest after another long day of trudging through the cold. The miserable bard has just managed to warm up again, and you have all slipped into a comfortable pre-slumber state, when the sounds of a fast creature slithering and crunching in the snow alert the party of a approaching, less than stealthy, enemy.
Turning the direction of the sounds, you notice a medium sized serpentine creature with the head of a ferocious dragon and two relatively small forearms that end in tiny claws.
Inuki expresses his gratitude to the others for their attention and happily rides double with Roga. He uses his healing songs at the end of the day to treat his injuries, and tries to provides some more music and tales to keep spirits up. He is truly moved by Nareth's revelations.
Inuki believes we should plan for an encounter with the troll(s), but is in favor of delaying until we are better equipped and more experienced.