"I understand you decision to come along with us, Nadya. It is perhaps in this village's best interest if you leave with your children. I will do whatever I can to protect you and your family on trip." Cara says earnestly once she learns of Nadya's intentions, "Your help getting us inside the city is also most appreciated."
* * *
Upon hearing about Kronek's condition, Cara sighs long and painfully, "He was a great warrior, we all would not be here if not for his bravery and ferocity. He will be missed. I think it best if we leave him here, I would not want to make his condition worse if we carry him on a long trip on dogsled. Please do whatever you can, Brother Halzberg."
The frigidity of Irrisen sets upon you as would a starving wolf the very moment the portal dumps you out on the endless plain of snow. The traversing of the portal itself was a jarring experience unlike anything you had ever felt - perhaps if the Red Rider had been in better health it would not have been such an unpleasant foray. The landing was equally uncomfortable, resulting in the both of you lying prone in a good foot of dense snow, where the howling winds have already pushed drifts into you. Gaining your feet, you squint into the gales to protect your eyes from the incisive fangs of airborne ice and frost but can see only a hazy world of nebulous grey beyond.
You must travel to Whitethrone. The gnarled, fading voice of the Red Rider still burns into your mind. You can certainly feel the weight of his presence even now, settling into your marrow, your souls. It was only moments ago you left him, but already has his mantle come to rest heavily upon you. You will never forget that fateful meeting, you expect.
He came in a flash of crimson astride a red stallion, falling from the air. When the steed crashed into the earth it vanished in a sudden diffusion of bloodred smoke, leaving the rider on his knees. His burnished scarlet armor drank in every ray of sunlight and gave it back twice over. He had probably once been a dashing, handsome man, but his flesh was cracked, a visage of ancientness and decay cast over a face too young to bear such ravages. Your blades sprang from your scabbards, but the slow rise of his hand gave you pause.
"There is no time," he said. There was time for a tale, however, and the one he told was grim indeed.
Elvanna, Queen of Irrisen, imprisoned her mother and usurped her power, and now seeks to cover the lands of Golarion in the same everlasting, eternal winter that Baba Yaga herself carved out of the eastern Linnorn Kingdoms during the Winter War. Yet only Baba Yaga can stop Elvanna, and only the Riders can find Baba Yaga.
Yet the Red Rider was swiftly approaching death and gave you a daunting decision. Take up his mantle and his power and ride on to free the Queen of All Witches, or watch him die and with him one of the last hopes for salvation.
You chose to ride.
His touch - warm, burning even - delivered a grand sense of power into you. You could feel yourselves becoming stronger immediately. But you also felt a great burden, and a great pulling of your spirits. This mantle not only would bring you power, but you would be required to serve as well.
His last moment, last act, to use the last remaining bit of his life and power to open a portal to Irrisen and send you there. His last words - You must travel to Whitethrone.
And now Irrisen has greeted you with its coldness. The skies are grey and though you believe it to be morning the whole land is gripped in a constant crepuscule. You cannot discern cardinal direction in this sea of endless tundra, but you feel the pull within, the pull of Baba Yaga, the pull of your new destiny, and find yourselves looking northeast. Somehow, you know this is the way.
The snow is hard enough to walk on top of without much difficulty, but the real adversary is the wind. It drives in denouncing gusts presently, but you know you must soldier on through the elements to reach your destination.
And so you do.
As the wind howls and cold bites Skäne impassively looks to his companion with his usual grim set. The warrior's enchanted boots protected him from the worst of the harsh weather, but his breath still hung like mist as he spoke;
"Best we get moving eh? Hvítrhöfn awaits...
Trudging through the frigid landscape the dour vikingr grimaces - clearly mulling over the weal and wane of assuming the Rider's mantle;
"Feh. Seems now we have a great witch to free... Perhaps too a few to butcher, if the fates are kind..."
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"Maybe..! But it could also be, um, a s-s-situation where her daughter just wants to be with the person she loves, right? Then we just have to find Baba, and everyone talks... and then she can be with the person she likes and Baba Yaga can just install the next queen. Then love triumphs in the end, r-r-right?" As she speaks she flexes her fingers to keep them warmed up and nimble.
Asgrid is saddened to hear about Kronek, and offers to help Brother Halzberg tend to him before the party leaves. "The best thing for him really is to stay and rest and recover. We'll miss him though. We wouldn't have survived the tower or our other perils without him." She offers the cleric the scroll of remove curse that the group discovered in the ice troll's lair.
Making plans with Nadya, she agrees with Cara's sentiment. "Of course you can come with us. It will be dangerous, but we'll face that danger together." Asgrid shows everyone the lock of frost giant's hair, and reminds the group that Kronek had taken possession of the other portal key.
Spells cast
Summoner Spells
1 - Lesser Rejuv Eidolon x3
Asgrid 30/30
Grugkt 18/18
Geedra was more concerned with her new toys than worrying about the big human's health. "Geedra good. Wand of Icicile am keep Geedra safe now. Geedra am fine ride with Nadya. Excited to see Hut and ride it!"
She had found a steady amount of acid flasks and alchemist's fire, so she was ready to depart when the others were.
Despite his weather warding enchantments Skäne too hunkers into his furs and armour - perhaps more from habit than actual cold.
As Katie extols her idyllic vision of the journey to come, the burly warrior chuckles grimly shaking his helmed head;
"Har! Always the optimist eh Rosten?"
He squints ahead through the howling sleet, then beckons his fellow Ulfen to keep close as his enchanted boots leave no tracks in the snow;
"Stay close und stay sharp. These Irriseni skuma likely lurk everywhere..."
:
You decide that it is best to leave Kronek in the hands of Brother Halzberg. Hopefully the cleric of Pharasma can find a way to save your Kellid comrade, or in the worst case keep him safe and comfortable. It is hard to come to terms with leaving behind a companion who has been with you from the outset, but your mission cannot be delayed. Geedra seems characteristically unfazed by the ordeal, lost in the giddiness of acquiring her new magical toys.
Nadya spends the morning gathering supplies for the wagons, loading them up with food for the dogs as well as for herself and Orm and Mjoli, who seem intent on staying by Kronek's side until Nadya finally drags them away. She also makes sure the sleds are stocked with extra wood and blankets and the like. She says goodbye to her hunting companions who step up to take her place as collective provider for the village.
You say your farewells too, to Iziamar and Tula, Brother Halzberg, the unconscious Kronek, Rolf, Olavi, Bjorn, and Harald, and Hatch the house spirit. You bid farewell to Hestrig as well, who has settled in to the common room of the White Weasel tavern with the books she took from the Pale Tower. You find her taking swigs from a tankard and looking over them.
"Was an honor to fight with you. I'm sorry your Kellid friend took on the iceblood. Nasty sickness. I'd go with you to Whitethrone, but I'd like to steer clear of the jadwiga for a while. I reckon I'll stay here for a spell...look in on the tower and keep an eye on it to see if anyone comes back. Ancestors be with you standing up to Elvanna. Something tells me you'll need every one of them you can get." She raises her mug to you and drinks again.
By noon, you are ready to leave. Nadya leads the train with Orm and Mjoli on her sled, and her final goodbye is to Kashka, to whom she has left her cabin and the rest of her possessions. The two embrace and then Kashka hugs the children as well, tears in her eyes. After that final farewell, Nadya mushes the dogs and you glide out of Waldsby once more across the endless plain of snow.
You travel for hours. Nadya told you it would be ten days to Whitethrone, so you spend the time steeling yourselves - body, mind, and soul - for such a journey through the unwelcoming lands of Irrisen. The winds sweep across the plain, biting and gnashing with every gust, kicking up blinding mists of ice and frost. The sky above campaigns in its endless grey, the sheer monotony of the landscape makes a two hour ride seem like twelve. After those two hours, Nadya slows the train to a stop for a brief rest. The dogs are watered and fed and you are given fifteen minutes or so to stretch your legs.
Nadya explains that to get the most out of the dogs you will stop every 2 hours for a short spell, and then stop an hour before sunset to set up camp in the waning daylight.
"I have not been to Whitethrone in ages, and never inside the city proper, but this regimen should get us there in the ten days. Provided we don't run afoul of a blizzard or some such, Ancestors protect us. Orm, Mjoli! In my sight at all times!" she adds, yelling after her boys who are rolling around in the snow a good hundred paces away. She marches off to wrangle them back to the sleds.
As you rest and help care for the dogs (except Geedra), and take in some food and drink of your own, you begin to notice birds collecting in the sky overhead. At first it doesn't seem to be too strange, as there are a few copses of huddled pine trees about a quarter of a mile away, but you notice how they linger after a few minutes. Still, they remain high in the sky and flock about lazily, so perhaps it is just the general ominousness of black birds that unsettles you.
After another minute, however, you do sense the need to worry. The sky above you is a mass of black and the birds descend, screeching and cawing madly. You all notice and are quick to react, however, and prepare yourselves for the murder's coming.
Init:
Cara: 21
Crow Swarms: 21
Geedra: 16
Asgrid: 4
You talk as you walk, finding ways to bring up this new course of life you have just been set upon. Whatever the case, the two of your are bound now, and you cannot help but feel a strange sense of kinship and comradeship now that you have shared this mantle of power and responsibility.
Skäne is on alert as you plow through the snowbanks, wary of this land of witches and prepared for an ambush at any moment. His instincts seem to serve him well, as you now move through an area where the snowdrifts have blown into banks nearing heights of ten feet and certainly to appear to be good spots for surprise attacks. You move cautiously forward through the drifts, eyes scanning the tops of the ridges and the little valleys that cut back between the banks.
Skäne catches movement atop a ridge to the right and turns reflexively, but it's just thew wind blowing the crest of drift and scattering snow down the side of the slope. Katie's gaze follows his and she tenses, but eases when she too sees its just the wind.
The roar behind you is definitely not the wind, however, and you feel something heavy land behind you. Even before either of you can turn on your heels again, Skäne feels something slam into his hauberk from behind, but the protection does its job and shields his body from damage.
Turning, you see a shaggy humanoid lurching before you. About seven feet tall, it is completely covered in long, coarse grey-white hair. A black, bestial face with blurring blue eyes peaks out from the fur, staring you down hungrily. Its long arms end in sharp claws, and as soon as you turn around the beast lays into Skäne again, twice this time. The first bounces harmlessly off of the vikingr's defenses, but the second finds home and rakes wounds on his skin. The claws burn with frigidity.
You both recognize this creature as a yeti, but it seems a bit short, lean and haggardly for a creature of its kind. Perhaps it is young yet, or weak from hunger or sickness. No matter the case, it certainly seems keen on making a meal of you!
Init:
Yeti: 22
Katie: 10
Skäne: 8
Cara Perception:
Asgrid Perception:
Geedra Perception:
"B-be careful!" Her fingers slide along the blade for an instant to imbibe it with her magical energies, as this one by itself doesn't yet strike her as a threat to waste her bardic power on. She swings her sword at the yeti, trying her darndest to find purchase in the creature's hide.
Main party:
Round two: Geedra uses her move action to cackle and her standard action to grant Cara the same effects of her Fortune Hex. [ooc]Everyone please remember your fortune Hex.
Skäne grunts in pain as the beasts claws rake, then draws his sword .
Grim -set the warrior circles shifts near Katie, keeping her within range of benefiting from his shield if needbe;
"Rosten! Stay close... Minn Skjǫldr will aid you as well as me!"
Following the skald's* lead he stabs his blade forward to bite back at the yeti ;
:
:
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Noticing the dark clouds of birds with a grim expression, Cara pulls out a blunt arrow and fires it at one of the swarms. "Aran, fly away from the crows so you don't get hurt." She says to her owl afterwards.
When the same swarm gets closer, she instead fires two blunt arrows at it.
Asgrid feels a pang at leaving behind Kronek, Hestrig, and some of the others that the group had gotten to know in Waldby. She hopes for the big Kellid's swift recovery, and that the bloodrager stays safe from Queen Elvanna's revenge. During the rest stops, she helps Nadya keep track of the children and helps with the dogs as much as she is able.
When the crows gather and attack, Asgrid agrees with Geedra's tactics and reaches for a flask of alchemist's fire. She also draws out a flask of liquid ice, not sure which will be more effective.
Spells cast
Summoner Spells
1 - Lesser Rejuv Eidolon x3
Asgrid 30/30
Grugkt 18/18
"Agrigah!"
With a cry, Grugkt climbs to his feet and perches on top of the cargo, coming perilously close to pitching the sled over. He frowns at the birds, perhaps sensing something not quite natural about them. He readies himself, waiting watchfully for them to draw closer so that he can swat them from the sky.
Round 1
After the Yeti's surprise attack and flurry of claws on Skäne, Katie reacts and slides her sword from its scabbard. She runs her fingers along the blade's edge, channeling a fragment of her magical power into it. She lashes out, bringing it at an arc toward's the yeti, but it seems quick on its feet and pushes the blade away with his claw.
As it does so, Skäne's own blade comes forward in a thrust, but the yeti's parrying movement has it shift in such a fashion that the point of the vikingr's longsword catches only a tuft of fur.
The yeti growls, its breath icy cold. It seems to leverage both Ulfen even as threats and lashes out at each of them with its claws. Skäne blocks the yeti's attack with his faithful shield, moving the barrier across his body as the blow comes in. He continues the movement and juxtaposes it in between Katie and the claw seeking her as well, just managing to push that strike away as well.
Round 0
Geedra hums as she produces a flask of alchemist fire while simultaneously manipulating the fortune around Grugkt. She looks up at the birds, licking her lips at the thought of roasting them with her bottled fire.
Cara lines up a shot with a blunt arrow and lets loose. The projectile disappears into the dark cloud of crows but you see that a few of them drop, the arrow having bashed a couple of birds. She commands her owl to gain a safe distance and the snowy raptor glides silently away from the area.
Asgrid rummages and produces flasks of her own, one filled with alchemical fire and one with ice. Grugkt clambers to the top of the mound of supplies and cargo tied down to the sled he was on, staring at the birds and waiting for them to come in reach.
The birds descend.
Round 1
Cara snaps off two arrows into the crows a moment before they blanket over you. Her first shot again picks some of the crows clean but the second seems to sail through the mass's negative space and into the sky.
The murders envelop you and there is an eruption of activity. The birds caw and screech and peck ans rake, feathers and small buffeting forms consume you in a whirling cloud of darkness and noise. Flasks of fire crack open and add in a woosh of spreading flame, while Grugkt's roars sound out as he slashes and swipes at the cloud with his claws. Asgrid and Grugkt feel the worst of it as the crows bite and rake across their faces, rendering them unable to see!
Geedra keeps cackling as she moves out of the swarm.
"Got it!" The affirmation is all the speaking Katie does so that she can better focus on the task at hand, giving her sword another helping of her arcane infusion before trying her attack again.
As the yeti's attack proves as fruitless as their own Skäne grimaces and arcs a hacking swing at the creature ;
:
:
Cara fires another blunt arrow into the swarm attacking her before moving in the opposite direction from Geedra in an attempt to force the swarm to pick only one target at a time.
Blood streams into Asgrid's eyes from several gashes, rendering her unable to see. The pain is terrible. The crows seem to be everywhere! All Asgrid can think is to hurl the flask of liquid ice in her hands into the air, hoping the jar of blue water will impact on some of the crows as they wheel about.
Spells cast
Summoner Spells
1 - Lesser Rejuv Eidolon x3
Asgrid 30/25 [blinded!]
Grugkt's eyes are a ruin. His fur is matted with blood from the many small wounds inflicted by the murderous crows. He flails about with his arms, partly to keep the crows at arm's reach, and partly to wreak vengeance on the birds.
Grugkt HP 18/13
Round 2
Katie energizes her blade with her eldritch power once more and draws it neatly across the shaggy hide of the yeti, etching a sanguinary line into the brute's side. It growls out in pain, saliva spraying from its mouth as it does so.
Skäne follows up with a slash from his own blade and cuts the yeti on its opposite side, reddening the snow at his feet with an arc of blood.
Your opponent seems beleaguered already from your bout, as its next two attacks are more sluggish and less ferocious. Katie easily shifts her body away from arm and Skäne almost effortlessly pushes a claw back with his shield.
Geedra and Cara split their distance, each heading in an opposite direction out of the murder of crows flocking around them. Geedra dashes off in the snow cackling and waving her hands, continuing to manipulate the fickle forces of fortune woven around her allies. Cara snaps off an arrow, removing more of the black birds from the savage collection.
Grugkt and Asgrid fight blindly amidst the swarm around them. Asgrid sends another flask through the air but in the confusion and the noise it is hard to say where it ended up.
Grugkt, though bleeding from the eyes, manages to rip and rend crows out of the swarm as he claws ferociously at the air.
The swarm continues its attack on the summoner and her eidolon, pecking and raking as its members screech and caw.
The second swarm seems less interested in the cackling goblin and more so in the elf plucking members from its collection and surges after Cara, surrounding her again.
Seeing both Katie's and his own blades cut furrows in the ice beast's hide, the dour warrior mirthlessly presses home their advantage.
As his shield turns another raking claw, Skäne counters with a hard stab at the brute (Standard Action);
"Eða again Rosten! Turn the sna red!"
:
:
She adjusts her grip, shifting from using her buckler to twohanding her longsword, letting her arcane energies go through the sword again before swinging for the fences.
Turning the yeti's errant blows into a pressing advantage, both Ulfen bolster themselves and one another with words of encouragement, each striking out with a longsword. Both blades find fur and meat, biting deep into the winter monster's hide. The sharp edges saw cleanly and do in fact scarlet the field of snow beneath as the yeti lets out a howl of pain and rage and topples over, collapsing hard into the drift.
A cursory search of the yeti turns up a single hard, wrought-iron band on one of its fingers, mostly hidden beneath its shaggy fur.
"W-w-well, w-we did it..!" She gave a small, nervous laugh as she reached out to tap Skane on the shoulder with a cure light wounds.
"Not a lovely win... but a win is a w-w-win, right?" As she finished, she queued up a detect magic to look at the ring and see if it's worth anything beyond being a crude art object.
Skäne grunts in agreement as he feels the familair warmth of Katie's healing creep though his bones;
"Care not if it is ugly or for the sagas girl. We live. It lies dauðr . Our swords drank. So aye... a win."
The vikingr prods the cooling carcass with his boot and a scowl;
"Feh! Would harvest tǫnn or skinn had it been a finer example o' its ilk..."
He flashes a grim smile at Katie;
"We'll just settle for vetr-valdr pelts in Hvítrstóll eh Rosten?"
The terrific three!
RTA
Damage
Fending off the birds from her eyes, Cara fires two more blunt arrows into the swarm surrounding her then takes a 5 foot step out of the Hitchcockian nightmare in the opposite direction of Geedra.
A swift divination concludes that the ring is not magical, but a more mundane inspection reveals it to be quite old; centuries if not more. There are worn, faded markings on the ring and though their legibility has been ravaged by time what is visible is reminiscent of your Skaldic language. Probably an olden form of it, though. Regardless, you're quite sure it is some archaic Ulfen ring.
Skäne looks over the yeti and comes to a conclusion of his own, that the beast is too haggard to be a source of supplies. With your business with it finished, you set off again into the wind and snow, somehow ever pointed north to Whitethrone.
Following the lanes in the drifts most easily traversed, you eventually uncover that the land is on a gentle decline and after about a half hour more of walking it levels out intro a endless stretch of snowy plain. The deep and heavy drifts remain behind you for now, where the wind played upon the slope to gather the slush in such heights. Travel is slightly easier here, though without the drifts shielding you the wind is even stronger. You're forced to tilt your heads to keep the wind from kicking up frost directly into your eyes, but you soldier on through the gusts.
Fortunately, the wind has seemingly kept any other predators away, and you see no other signs of life in your vicinity. Nary a bird in the air, which in your experiences suggests that a storm of some sort is likely on the way.
As she travels, she notes the signs of a coming storm. She's already cold, but this..?
"I think we should find shelter. S-s-soon, hopefully."
Skäne scarred brow furrows, then he nods approvingly;
"Auld is good Rosten... Wear it with matnaðr ."
The warrior eyes the threatening weather with equal concern, before resuming their march;
"Aye. Best press on... Augar sharp mind..."
Cara sends another pair of her blunted arrows into the swarm around her while Geedra assists with a flask of alchemist fire. Nearby, Grugkt flails about within the swarm and rips birds from the air with his claws. Altogether your pressing attacks thin the murders considerably and in a screeching surge they take wing again and ascend, swirling together and flying off to the north in a cawing chorus.
Just as they leave Nadya returns, panting heavily. She stops and bends over, hands on her knees, bow slung over her shoulder.
"Is everyone...all right? I'm sorry, the boys..." She pauses for a moment to catch her breath and stands straight again. "I keep telling them not to run off. By the time I got them stashed on a sled you had already sent the birds away. Spies for the witches, no doubt."
At this point, Asgrid and Grugkt come stumbling over. Both have blood covering their faces and their eyes are screwed shut. After a brief exchange you discover that they have been blinded by the raking and pecking of the birds. After helping them into a sled, Nadya does her best to clean them up.
"I'm not a doctor or anything...but do you think we should try to do anything?"
After taking a few moments to look for blunt arrows, Cara returns to the group and looks at Asgrid and Grugkt with concern. "I will not lie, this looks bad. Here, allow me to see if there is anything I can do."
Tripod
The day only grows colder as the hours pass, and the winds pick up as well, casting their chilling spell across the tundra. Between their velocity and the volume of their howls and the way the sky looks, you are all but sure that a storm is on the way. You've grown enough accustomed to the weather in these climes to see that.
You see no other signs of life this day, not even any more birds in the air. That is even worse a sign of the magnitude of the coming storm. Nadya senses it as well and late into the afternoon she skids the sleds to a halt and disembarks, shaking her head as she approaches the rest of you.
"This doesn't look good," she says. "By the look and feel of things it is about to get a lot colder. Incredibly cold. The winds are bad enough but if it starts snowing as well...we could all be lost in waves of it. We need to find some place to hunker down, but I can't even think of anywhere nearby. This is all lone tundra...we could double back to the south and take cover in the Hoarwood, but that might well set us back at least a half a day. Or we could continue on and hope to find some other area to take shelter. It is your call to make, but I am more inclined to take to the wood since I know it is there. You are the ones on an important task, though."
As the hours pass, it grows colder and colder. The winds become more and more incisive, until they seem as though they are like to flay the flesh from your bones. It is ever clearer by the moment that you must find some shelter from the coming storm, but in all of your travels you've seen naught but endless plain, open and exposed to the elements.
As you collect yourselves and start to prepare in earnest, searching for a plan, you do spot to the southwest a haze of grey-green on the horizon, which looks to be a forest of some sort. The trees would likely provide you some protection from the wind and any coming snow, as well as provide kindling for a fire...but it looks to be in the opposite direction of your destination, and would likely set you back a half a day or more...you are unsure, however, at what lies ahead of you in this land.
[ooc]Skäne is protected from having to make saves from the cold weather due to his boots of the winterlands, but Katie is subject for the past 3 hours of travel. After two successful saves, the third gets the better of her, and she takes 3 points of nonlethal damage. How you wish to proceed is up to you. Press on northward, double back to the woods, or try to secure a shelter where you stand.
Cara tsks to herself as Nadya explains the dire situation, "I would rather not be set back. It is difficult to describe, but I feel an urging at the back of my head prodding me to move onward. That being said, I do not want to put the safety of you, your family, or the dogs at risk. So, if you feel it is too dangerous to continue, Nadya, then I am fine with the woods. Otherwise, I say we risk moving forward."
As Katie begins to feel the bite of the cold, Skäne nods his helmed head toward the snow topped tree-line;
"Best we make for there. Camp and get you varmr girl..."
The warrior leads her the the forest, then eyes the woods warily before they enter;
"Best we ware. Might be heimili of fey..."
:
:
Is it?
She has no idea, but the woods mean shelter, and that means the possibility of building a fire, and she's all for that. "I-I'd take fey over the cold, at this point..."
Sometimes fey were friendly. Or at least, not actively biting--which still makes them better than the cold, to Katie's current eyes. Still, while waiting for the fire to start she keeps watch as best she's able.
"It's a crossroads, to be sure," Nadya replies. "I won't lie, my desire to protect my children will sway my decision. But you bring up a good point as well...the dogs will not fare well in such a storm. Without them the trip will be longer still."
Cara, as you more closely try to gauge the weather, you do ascertain that something dire is on the way. Perhaps not a great amount of snow, but a terrible windstorm.
Asgrid takes the cloak with thanks, and in donning it does much resemble a smaller Grugkt. The eidolon sniffs at Asgrid and prods her beneath the cloak, perhaps a bit confused.
In the end, you decide that thought it will set you back a day or two. The possibility of losing any dogs are supplies is slightly too big a risk to press on, and the forest is the only thing you can see that might provide shelter.
Nadya leads the dogs south, making a wide arc and shifting direction. She pushes the sleds hard, knowing that the sooner you get into the woods the longer you will have to rest and find respite. After a few more hours of travel the trees finally come into focus and loom over you. She slows the dogs and picks a path and the sleds glide into the thick forest of pine and aspen.
You go a few hundred yards past the treeline, as Nadya seems unwilling to probe the depths of the wood. The dogs are slower here, the sleds cumbersome, but you are able to pick your way ahead until you find an area large enough to somewhat comfortably house the lot of you. The dogs are worn out from the day and are eager to lie down amidst the pine needles and rest, panting heavily. Nadya hops off of her sled as soon as it comes to a halt and orders her two boys to start feeding the dogs.
"Hopefully there is a stream nearby we can crack and get some water from," she says. "Why don't we gather some wood and start a fire. We'll need to clear a spot of needles and such, as well."
You set to work, gathering supplies from the immediate area. After clearing the foliage and detritus from the earthen floor and erecting a small firewall circle of stones, wood is heaped into a pile and set to burning. The warmth from the flames is most comforting, and you sit down to eat with the dogs who are happy to lie close around you for mutual warmth.
"I can't believe this is all happening," Nadya says as you eat. "You took out the forces at the tower...and now I'm leading you to Whitethrone itself so you can move to stop Elvanna? Maybe the jadwiga can even be driven from this land once and for all and my people can be truly free again."
You spend a few hours trudging across the tundra to get to the forest. You are unmolested in your journey by everything but the biting wind that at times threatens to flay your skin from your bones. Skäne, with his magical protection from the cold, does his best to protect Katie from the worst of the elements as you travel. Finally, the woods present themselves before you, a cradle of pine and aspen that promise shelter from the driving wind. So too do the woods seem dark and ominous, however, but you cannot let that dissuade you now.
You push through the foliage and the ground beneath you turns from hard snow to earth and pine needles, and even gaining a few feet does much to divert the wind. You decide to strike in a few hundred yards as to not lose yourself too deeply in this unfamiliar territory, but far enough in to get a good ways away from the wind.
After you find a suitable spot for camp, Skäne does what he can to warm Katie's frozen bones. He heaps his furs onto her and starts a fire and you have a short conversation about the possibility of fey. Even the mere mention of them seems to put you on edge, as if they were watching you at this very moment...
Interestingly though, you see no signs of life other than the occasional bird call. You don't hear any movement from the brush apart from when an errant breeze ruffles the foliage. Why there seem to be no animals or other creatures around, you cannot say...perhaps forage is poor in this wood, or perhaps the coming storm has driven them further inward? Or something more sinister....
As the fire jumps to life in your kindling you are grateful for its warming energy. The stillness of the air is a boon as well, for so long in the wind has numbed and reddened your flesh. You sit together before the fire and prepare to wait out the storm.
Skäne sits by the fire sword across his lap as he packs his pipe;
"I'll take first vǫrðr Rosten. Best you eat something then hunker down eh?"
The warrior tosses her a small dented hip-flask with a hard grin;
"Sterkr liquor... Will varmr those kald bones o' yours."
He then lights his pipe and continues to watch the surrounding forest as best he can;
:
"And I never believed that I would start to adjust to camping in the snow regularly, but I am getting used to it." Cara says with a slight laugh, "I do hope we will be able to find some allies in Whitethrone to help us with our struggle. We only barely bested the tower and that was with Kronek's assistance."
A few minutes later, Cara looks around the assembled group and takes a moment to think, "I think we will be okay with two watches. I'd suggest Grugkt take the first watch, and I'll take the second."
The Threesome:
"Alright. I'll leave first watch to you." She needs rest to recover her spells, anyways. Katie turns her attention to a quick meal and a good sleep. "Wake me if someone tries to kill us."
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Katie partakes in a bit of your whiskey and then settles into sleep by the fire. It doesn't take her long to fall into slumber beneath the warm of the furs and near the soft crackle of flame. You smoke your pipe and sit nearby, eyes scanning the dark forest around you. Katie shifts in her sleep and your eyes dart to her. It is strange; you barely know the lass yet you feel so connected to her, as if she were blood of your blood. Likely the effects of sharing the name and title of the Red Rider, no doubt, but regardless the strength of the bond is somewhat surprising.
The fire throws shadows out through the trees and as you keep watch the shifting darkness does its best to keep you alert, ever thinking that some motion or trick of the light is something watching you or moving about. Despite the cover of the wood, a breeze still slithers through the forest, but is not nearly as bad as it could be. That is evident by the howling of wind miles in the distance, a true windstorm raging across the tundra. The decision to make for the forest was quite prudent after all.
The hours pass but the forest seems dead. Often a wood will breathe around you; the chorus of birdsong, the rustle of bush and bramble as deer and rabbit skitter through it, the buzz of insects. But here there is nothing but the malevolent whisper of the breeze. The thought that fey might prowl here keeps you on edge, and you know what the tales say of them.
Fortunately, none such fey confront you in your watch, and halfway through the night you rouse miss Rosten and hunker down yourself, soon falling into a much needed rest.
And you dream.
You walk the lands of your fathers, and your fathers' fathers. Lands on which you have been tested in battle and raid, where axe and blade have carved out a worthy tale of your for skalds and sagas. You have claimed honor and glory, claimed a name to be sung of in the stories for generations. A hero and legend.
Life is bright for you, Skäne, son of Ingvâr. Why then, does it grow so dark?
A thunder surges through the ground and you witness the coming of a terrible force. Fey and trolls and giants and witches rampage across your land from the horizon, winds blowing around them and waves of snow appearing beneath their feet. Flying high above this army is a blonde woman with porcelain skin and her icy laugh rends the skies.
"As my mother did so long ago, I shall take this land in winter and war!" she proclaims. "And I will not stop as she did, but claim it all, and make slaves of those who do not submit."
Your blood pumps and boils. This battle will be your last and you will forever ingrain yourself in the sagas. Your draw your blade as the army and cold and snow washes over you. But you cannot fight. Magic has gripped you in its nefarious hold and you are taken. Taken as a slave.
Slaves have no place in the sagas.
You serve fey and trolls and witches and when you are not you sit chained in a dungeon. A robed figure is likewise shackled next to you here, but when he raises his head to speak to you scarlet light burns in a dark face.
"This is what is to be, Skäne Ingvârssonn, if Elvanna is allowed to win. Never forget your purpose. I can ride no longer, so you must. Whitethrone beckons. There will you find your path. The Hut knows the way, and you must break the chains."
You dream.
Love is everywhere around you, in stories made real. It flourishes in warmth and joy and you are center to it all, bright and beaming, with books and quills to commemorate each blooming happiness. Your quills never stop moving, in fact, with so much to write! Smiling, you scrawl out tale after tale and the couples and people around you shower you and your work with laurels. You can feel all of their joy washing through you and if sets fire to your spirit.
Why then, is it still so cold?
A darkness falls across the square and a wind sends your parchment to scattering. The laughter and song around grows quiet as snow begins to blow down the street. Moments later come the fey and the trolls and the witches.
People scream and try to run but are put to sleep by fey magic, grabbed by trolls, or frozen by the witches. Your books and stories are broken and torn, shredded and cast away. All of the joy and love is replaced by fear and pain as people are gutted in front of their loved ones and taken away.
One woman with white-blonde hair and porcelain skin floats above the chaos, her icy laugh chilling the bone.
"There is no love to have but for your new Queen! Only the sovereign of jadwiga and new master of this world are worthy of such adulation!"
And so you are taken and chained to a desk in a cold, icy dungeon. Your only company are malicious fey that needle you with jeers and tiny teeth. Endlessly you toil, writing stories of the greatness of Queen Elvanna, every day and all day, but each one is returned. None are worthy and Elvanna demands only more and better works. But nothing is ever good enough.
A cloaked figure arrives and drops a stack of parchment on your desk and places a hand on your shoulder. You look up to see crimson eyes staring at you from beneath the hood.
"This is what is to be, Katie Rosten, iff Elvanna is allowed to win. Never forget your purpose. I can ride no longer, so you must. Whitethrone beckons. There will you find your path. The Hut knows the way, and you must break the chains."
You with a start to Skäne's hand on your shoulder. The night is halfway gone and it is your time to watch.
As Skäne falls asleep you nervously peer out into the wood. It seems dead; nary a bird call to be heard or rustle of game in the brush. A soft breeze meanders through the branches, but it is a far cry from the storm outside the wood. Even from here you can hear the distant howl of the wind and somehow you know it would have been suicide to traverse the plain in that.
The hours pass and the fire throws dancing shadows throughout the trees, giving constant motion to the darkness that keeps you on edge. You recall stories of the winter fey and pray that you are not confronted by any, and fortunately you are not. At long last, pale daylight trickles through the trees and you wake Skäne.
You eat and ready yourselves for the new day. You can still hear the wind beyond the forest but it does not sound nearly as bad as it did through the night, and you hope it has died down well enough to travel. As you snuff your campfire and gather your things, you both notice something amiss.
Skäne, you find that your signal horn is missing as well as both potions of magic weapon you carry.
Katie, you find that your ink vials and several pens are gone as well.
Strange, as neither of you saw or heard anything during your watch. You investigate the immediate area, and do spot tiny tracks around your campsite, but none leading to or away from it....you widen your search, however, and find more of the small tracks in the trees beyond the clearing, heading east.
After sharing food and warming by the fire, everyone takes their rest. Grugkt stands guard, patrolling the perimeter of the site, keeping an extra close eye on Asgrid.
The wood seems dead. There is no game rustling the brush, no birds in the trees, no insects buzzing. There is only the crackle of flame and the meandering breeze through the branches. After a few minutes though you do hear the wind miles away on the plain. It howls like a pack of wolves, and somehow you know that this was the best decision, to take shelter from the windstorm. Even from this distance the sound of it chills bone.
An few hours into the watch, you hear something sound out softly behind, turning, you sees a tiny humanoid creature behind Grugkt, on the other side of Asgrid. It is just finishing pulling something out of her pack, and at first you cannot tell what it is until it turns slightly and you spot it - the frost giant hair Asgrid was carrying...one of the cauldron keys! Three more of the creatures - fey, obviously - are dotted around the Camp. Two are rummaging through packs and the other moves its eyes from one person to the next, looking upon you a moment later. The fey lets out a sharp cry and the others all immediately stop what they are doing. It doesn't look like any of the others have anything, but all at once they vanish!
You stand and look around frantically, and Grugkt responds to the cry as well. A few dogs have likewise awoken. A moment later, you can hear the laughter of the fey in the trees to the west, growing fainter as they flee.
_
Skäne rises with a hard nod to his companion.
He eats stoically, wearing a troubled scowl... which only grows when he realises items are missing;
"Skit! Rosten - you been into minn pack in the night? Minn horn and Fróðleikrmungát are missing!"
The warrior's tone is more confused than accusatory, until they notice the tiny footprints...
His voice turning more angered as he gestures toward the East;
"Damned fey! They will taste kaldjarna afore the day is dark!"
"Everyone, wake up! We're being robbed!" Cara calls through the camp with urgency as she stands up and begins to lightly shake those who try to sleep through her wake up call, "Some tiny fey stole one of the cauldron keys, we need to go after them now."
Once at least one person seems awake enough to acknowledge her statements, Cara moves immediately to the west where she last heard the creatures.
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...
Skane would never touch her ink. The guess of her companion is probably right. She draws her sword, the picture of calm and composed rage.
"I agree. Nobody ferrits through my art supplies without asking!"
There were fey to hunt. She would see her ink returned, or else.
Triple terrors: