Pavel listens silently, waiting for what he deems a respectful moment before pulling out the flask of Taldane whiskey he purchased before leaving Kalsgard. He holds it up toward the horizon and the last view of home.
"To companions nuh'new and old, in fuh'fair weather and fuh'foul.", he says before tipping back a swig.
He offers it around before saying,"Ain't guh'gettin' any warmer, eh? Let's make tracks."
Daeron listens to Ameiko's song, entranced by her beautiful voice as he listens to a song whose words he can't understand. Standing in the cold in a land far from his home, he's struck by the surreal circumstances that have led him to this place. I leave my homeland for a world unknown. It will be a chance to engage with the unknown, but I can't help but feel nostalgic surrounded by strangers in a strange land. I'm adrift, as this woman's words are adrift, alone in a land not my own. Best not to dwell lest I turn into a simpering philosopher. There is much to look forward to learning and seeing.
Shrugging off his melancholic introspection like one would a coat, Daeron listens to Pavel's toast. "Well said, Pavel. One can't move forward without knowing where you've been. Further, pāndaḍānī ēkadama vr̥kṣa vasanta pharī janma thaśē, ṭakī śakē chē, śiyāḷāmāṁ pahēlāṁ paḍē chē." Daeron pauses a moment, smiling thinly, "The leaf falls before winter, that the bare tree may survive, to be reborn anew in spring. It's a Elven proverb my grandfather is fond of. I think we will be tried on this journey before we are 'reborn' in a new land."
Daeron accepts Pavel's flask with a polite nod and takes a small swig, enjoying the warming burn of the whiskey. "Thank you kindly, Pavel. I doubt it will get any warmer. Best to make haste lest we run out of whiskey to keep us warm," Daeron quips with a grin as he offers the Pavel's flask back. Feeling more resolute, Daeron rejoins the caravan.
"My grandmother, Etteb Reldim - my mother's side you know - would always tell us: 'Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose.' Fascinating woman she was."
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Garand has no head for introspection, caught up in the exercise of his skills in this new land. His own Shoanti people always seemed alien to him, so sure that their ability to survive in the cinderlands made them tougher and purer than the soft cityfolk, and he wonders how much more stoic and, perhaps, overproud, a people able to survive in the bitter arctic lands ahead might be, by comparison...
Pavel shakes his head, cursing. He heads back to the others in the caravan and makes a loud, piercing whistle.
"Listen! Wuh'we're headed into frost giant territory, 'cordin' to these truh'tracks. We gotta be extra cuh'careful through here. Bastards are raiders and sluh'slavers, an' I don't fancy our chances against more'n one."
Hearing Pavel's whistle, Daeron breaks his internal reverie and listens to the warning about the frost giants. "These are fresh tracks? Leading where, exactly? Was there anything else unusual about the tracks?" He asks without any trace of his previous joviality. "It seems to me that if they're raiders that they'd prefer to strike without warning. Ambush to crush the strongest opposition leaving easy pickings from there. Do you have some idea how they fight?"
After listening to Pavel's response, Daeron idly pulls out his Perpetual top and and sets it to spinning on the floor of a nearby wagon. Lost in concentration, he watches the whirling colors of the toy as he tries to recall what he had learned of the creatures in the Acadamae.
to determine what Daeron knows about Frost Giants and, in particular, their preferred fighting style.
Raith helps Pavel pass the word along the caravan, "Frost giant territory. Keep a watchful eye out."
Pavel scratches at the thick beard forming on his jaw.
"They're in the area, truh'tracks are only a few days old and they lead to a stone muh'mound. All I know's they can throw a mean boulder, which ain't exactly encouraging. Muh'maybe their Yuh'Jarldom's around here someplace. Don't know about our chances nuh'negotiating, though, so it's best to move as quick as possible."
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"My people sometimes encounter fire giants in the mountains of the Storval plateau, and it is known that they loathe attacks using cold and ice, which seem to hurt them more than expected, but are unaffected by fire entirely. Perhaps the frost giants are similarly affected by attacks using fire, and innured to cold?"
"Frost giants you say?!" Theoden's eyes light up at the thought. "Fantastic! Hopefully one will notice us, attack us, and we can then win the day by striking down the notorious beast! How grand of a battle would that be!" He says, looking far off into nothing as he loses himself in thought at the magnificence of such a battle. Returning from his reverie, "Or, we could talk him out of fighting us and have him join our cause. Now THAT would truly be fantastic." Theoden is unable contain a grand smile at the idea.
Daeron nods at both Pavel's and Garand's words and considers for a moment longer before saying, "Your assessment seems to align with mine as does your knowledge of the creatures. The creatures are indeed particularly vulnerable to fire damage. I'm afraid, however, that at the moment my options along that line are limited to conjuration of elemental beings of fire that may fare poorly in this climate. Moreover, I'm concerned that there may well be an ambush in the immediate area. Those stones may well be ammunition stockpiled near some hiding place. Do you think it worth investigating?"
As he listens to Theoden's exclamations, Daeron pulls a finely filigreed metal rod from his pack. Rolling it in his fingers, he pulls out a small scrap of leather from his belt pouch and begins chanting quietly the needed words of power. Focusing his chanting, arcane runes manifest around both his hands and the rod as the scrap of leather floats into the air before winking out of existence. He nods in satisfaction as he feels the slight pressure exerted on his frame by the arcane armor.
"I'm doubtful that a frost giant would join our cause and, even if it should, it seems likely that we will win little love with our intended trading partners by bringing a giant with us," notes the elven wizard in a dry tone.
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"The mound of rocks appears to be a shrine to whatever gods they serve, so it might be considered holy to them." Garand muses. "It does seem to be in disrepair, however, so perhaps it is a shrine to a god who is likewise out of favor..."
"In any case, whether it be holy still, or in disrepair because it is being used as a source of boulders to throw, I don't think it would be wise to approach it. Tampering with one of their holy sites seems a good way to motivate them to pursue us with righteous fervor, and we have this caravan to protect."
"Ah, this new information does change my analysis. I'm in agreement with you that disturbing a holy sight would be a poor choice."Daeron emphasizes his point with a firm nod. "Since there's nothing else to suggest an ambush, Pavel's suggestion of moving with haste seems most sensible. My primary concern was to avoid damage to the caravan that would delay us further, while also making us considerably more vulnerable."
Raith listens taking in what everyone is saying, "So these giants are raiders and slavers. Them type of folk like to ambush. This here caravan seems a ripe target. Why don't we take a walk over to this shrine, see if we can't ambush the raiders. Show them they best leave us be or we'll bloody the snow with'em. What do you say to that?"
"They moved on duh'days ago. Waste of time waitin' here- we just gotta be cuh'careful- 'specially in rocky passes. Nothin' for it but to stay shuh'sharp.", Pavel says before curtly adding,"And to nuh'not go hunting for glory."
"We can do more than stay sharp. We can become the hunter rather than the prey," Raith surveys the landscape, "I'm a bit tired of letting evil folk decide when and where we'll fight. Keeping sharp won't do a whole lot if they set us up for attack along some forlorn mountain pass where they can drop boulders on us why we try to figure out how to get to them. As far as I'm concerned I say if we come upon any living frost giants, we put them down, take their heads off, and put them on a stick as a message to others we're not to be trifled with. That's the direction I'm heading in. I give a damn about glory as long as the message gets through to those that need to know it."
"If you think there's nothing of importance to be found at the shrine, then so be it. We'll move on."
Daeron listens to both Pavel and Raith before saying, "I'm inclined to think that any fighting would be best done away from the caravan. As I've noted before I believe any damage to wagon's that must be repaired would leave us vulnerable to further attack. In essence, we would be sitting ducks. That said, if as Pavel has said, there is nothing to be gleaned from the rocks, then it would seem best to simply make haste. I am along to make sure this trade expedition succeeds, but I am ultimately not a stakeholder as are the rest of you. I am happy to leave the choice in your hands and those of Master Sandru."
Pavel's going to proceed as stealthily as he can from horseback, picking a route that breaks line of sight. He'll also continue looking for signs of the frost giants' passage.
Stealth:
Perception:
Survival (tracking):
Nodding his understanding to Sandru, Daeron recovers his still spinning top and proceeds to follow Pavel on foot, motioning to Manulani to follow. Speaking to his familiar quietly before they've gone too far, "Stay close and quiet. Help me keep an eye out. You'll have heard of giants in the area." He emphasizes his point with a raised eyebrow and serious gaze before returning his attention to the tracker before him. Daeron keeps a sharp eye on his surroundings, also trying to note any areas particularly well suited for an ambush.
to identify places well suited to throwing rocks from (e.g. range, arc, etc.)
to identify ridges, upcoming cliffs, etc where an ambush is likely
Theoden rides confidently upon the back of his mighty steed, Pride, keeping a sharp eye out as they proceed.
Unaware that it's not nearly as sharp as the wizard's.
Patting the neck of his horse, "Okay, boy, stay sharp. Keep that nose of yours on high alert."
Raith rides near Ameiko's wagon. He's watchful as always. He keeps the hilt of clear of cover so it has a clear line of vision as well. He'll help Garand gather food and water as well.
Perception:
Survival:
Daeron studies the giant briefly, thinking carefully about the words he heard spoken, trying to glean some meaning from them based on his extensive knowledge of languages. Seeing the giant's frown after Garand speaks, Daeron will bow to the giant slightly in a respectful manner before saying, in Skald, "Perhaps you speak Skald, sir?".
Frowning slightly in disappointment, the elf looks to his companions and says, "I've reached the limit of the languages I find likely to work. Like a fool I failed to scribe a scroll of my own spell that would allow me to understand our friend. My spell book containing my arcane knowledge required to prepare it is back with the caravan. Should I have Manulani fetch it? I will require some time to meditate even with the book in hand. Perhaps a quarter of an hour."
Raith falls into the Crane Stance and his hand goes to the hilt of his blade.
"Thinkin' we should see if anyone buh'back at the caravan speaks the language.", Pavel mutters. He holds up both empty hands toward the giant, then one finger and starts to slowly back away to look for an interpreter.
"Agreed, Pavel. He seems to be indicating that this is a sacred place. I can't work out much more then that. Manulani, make your way back to the caravan and tell them we request the presence of someone who speaks giant. Tell them we're not currently threatened. If none speak giant, tell them to wait where they are and retrieve my utility spellbook." Daeron instructs his familiar while slowly retrieving the key to his chest's lock from his pack. He gently hands the key to Manulani and nods. The little elemental takes a last look around before leaving, backing slowly until about he's a hundred feet away before turning and flying quickly to the caravan. Once there, he seeks out Sandru and says, "Hey trade-bossman! Need someone who speaks giant. The groups not in danger but they're being talked to by some big guy. If none of you can speak it, you should stay here! Gonna go get my master's book now."
After recovering the designated spell book, Manulani will fly back and hand the book to Daeron. The elf wizard lays out a blanket in the snow and sits, crossing his legs and propping open his book in his lap. Closing his eyes, he sits silently for around fifteen minutes. Having finished his memorization, he closes the book and places it carefully in his pack. He then begins to intone the needed arcane words of power before, with a pop, a slight glow manifests around his ears. He looks to the giant and mimes the act of speaking and hearing.
Daeron frowns slightly at his familiar before replying, "It was an error of judgement not to have certain of my spells available to me. Sadly I have only limited space or I would carry all of my spells with me at all times. Such is the price of flexible arcane power."
Turning to the newly arrived ranger, Daeron continues, "Thank you for coming, Shalelu. As you can see, we've encountered one of the local giants. He hasn't been overtly threatening and, based on what Garand has just said, he appears to want us to show respect as we cross his sacred land. Perhaps you can shed some light on the matter? My diplomatic acumen is lacking, however, so it might be best to consult with Theodan or Garand."