Glim stands to one side, still rocking from the balls to heels of his feet, hands linked behind his back.
When Linge moves to leave and gather her belongings, his eyebrows jut up, and he does the same, stopping only to bow here and there to each of his new companions, muttering under his breath each time, "Stone's blessing, stone's blessing on you, stone's blessing."
Then he's gone, out the door, to hurry back to the Silver Stoat, arguing with himself the whole way and accusing himself of being an impetuous fool - but there's no denying the excitement in his heart as he enters his room and gathers his belongings.
Not much later he's back outside the apothecary and ready to go.
Honsul pauses and contemplates for a minute on all the information he’s recently learned. While thinking, his gaze wonder over to Oerstag’s frost-bitten and manacled body.
”Perhaps you should go get a winter coat,” Gritil voice suggests inside Honsul’s skull. “I won’t freeze... obviously, but I don’t want your body looking like that. I can’t carry you out if you fall unconscious.”
Honsul’s face, noticeably unfocused on his surroundings, lights up, ”You’re so right Gritil! That’s a great idea! Perhaps some of our new friends might want to come with us.”
Blurting out before he notices anyone leave, Honsul calls out “Hey friends! We’re going to go see about renting a winter coat just in case things out there in the Borders get a little frosty. Would anyone like to come with us? Or maybe there’s somewhere else in town we could show you?”
Honsul smiles warmly and gestures to those he doesn’t recognize from town.
"They had to need Fire..." Paldo thought to himself. Throughout his life Paldo had tried to get his brother to do most of the heavy lifting, but this time he knew he had to step up. Growing up in the cold north Paldo had heard the stories of the winter war and the winter-touched fey of which Yuln spoke. Just the mere mention of Irresen was enough to send a chill down Paldo's spine. Instinctively he chanted his all too familiar spell that allowed him to survive there, sighing with relief.
Paldo did his best to sound excited, "Well my friends, you are all in luck! My desperation for warmth in the cold reaches to the North led my studies to the element of fire. I should be able to melt those creatures in the woods so that we can rescue Lady Thurdanhelm. You can count me in."[/b]
Looking puzzled at the pale looking gnome as he walked out the door Paldo found himself thinking out loud "Did that Guy??? say something about blessing us with a stone? What is he anyway?"
Snapping back to reality Paldo said "If you will excuse me, I am going to tell my brother I will be out of town a few days to help sort out this mess. And I will be sure to ask him for advise as to what we might need up there. Maybe we have some old things collecting dust."
"And Iomedae's blessing on you. Garran returns as he passes by the slate skinned gnome of a man. Perhaps there will be a chance to speak with the unusual individual later. Garran has to admit his curiosity is piqued.
"I Would like to see about purchasing some flasks of alchemical fire." Garran answers Honsul. "And pawning an extra rope. If you know your way around town..."
The royal we. Interesting. He doesn't look to be a king. Perhaps a madman. He seems sane enough, though.
A smile flickers across Garran's face. Maybe he has a mouse in his pocket.
"Stone's Blessing, he said." Garran clarifies this for Paldo.
"What's brought them so far South?"
"Well, that's what I was sent here to find out. I'd wager the answer lies somewhere in the forest - and if the kidnapped Lady doesn't know, those who are holding her probably do."
Sigrun nods her thanks to the councillor and the mercenary as the meeting adjourns, making sure to wish the latter a speedy recovery on her way out. Being already mostly prepared for the cold and having not much money to spend, she stays at the apothecary, mulling over the situation and the strange group assembled to deal with it. Several Ulfen and several...quite strange little folk. Well, hopefully they can fight well - it seems like there's going to be a lot of that soon.
Would you be in possession of something belonging to Lady Thurdanhelm?
"Bring that pack over to me," he says, pointing feebly toward the door. When you bring it to him, he rummages around in it for a moment before pulling out a ring.
"This should do. The lady had . . . removed it as we left Zimar and asked me to sell it when we returned to Oppara. But previously, she wore it often."
Linge briefly stops at the nearest grocery shop -she doesn't know how long the rescue mission will take, and last time she checked, food was getting scarce. The unexplained cold had been a real disaster for the crops.
As she strides back home, she can hear Horn's bawling getting louder. Before she had adopted him, she had no idea what kind of noise a bear cub could make when excited or angry. On the very first night Horn spent at her house, she knew. It was hoarser than the squealing of a pig, nearly as loud, and guaranteed to wake anyone with a start as their house suddenly sounds like it's being invaded by a wild demon, instead of a cute baby bear.
Thank the Gods that her mother, true to herself, had bought a house on the outskirts of the town. She was distrustful of people -even more so of noisy neighbours.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Linge mutters to Horn (or maybe herself) as she unlocks the backdoor.
The bear cub's claws rattle on the wooden planks as he nuzzles Linge's legs, rolling on his back to get a tummy rub -and crushing both of her feet under his weight as he does so.
She can't help but smile.
"What a little terror you're being," she pets his soft fur for a few moments, before getting back up to change into warmer clothes, and get what they will need.
She finds her old backpack exactly where she left it before her mother got sick: stuffed in a wardrobe. After a couple of months, it is covered in a thin layer of dust, but it's mostly intact. She roughly cleans it with a cloth, and then starts filling it with everything useful she can think of: some parchments, herbs to cast her spells, Horn's favorite honey biscuits-
The bear cub's claws rattle away, and soon, something soft brushes her leg.
"Yes, yes, I'll put on your jumper, just a minute."
Linge had had the idea of honey biscuits when she was still training Horn, looking for a way to motivate him, and give him a small reward when he was doing something right so that he would memorize tricks faster.
It had been so effective that, in hopes of being taught new games and hopefully winning some biscuits, he was always eager to go on a stroll, and took the habit to fetch his "coat" on his own -a simple, knitted sweater to protect him from the cold outside.
When Linge grabs the additional, leather protection that the bear cubs typically wears for training, he is practically vibrating with excitement.
"Let's go on an adventure, little one," Linge tells him softly, switching to Skald.
She's still too unsure about the way the villagers would react to Horn to risk going out through the front door. She carefully locks all the doors behind them as they're leaving through the backyard.
"Come on. Let's head to the village's entrance."
Halleva leaves the apothecary with a sense of extreme paranoia, watching the woods suspiciously and listening carefully for that sweet and deadly call of winter. She gathers her belongings, digging through her pack for her furs and a small charm from her homeland. She grips the rough-worked nail in her left hand, ignoring the slightly unpleasant tingle that spreads through her fingers at its touch.
She picks up a cold-iron sickle from the smithy, more for comfort's sake than anything else, and heads to the village entrance to wait nervously for the rest of the eclectic little group.
Her fears are momentarily forgotten when she sees Linge already waiting, a furry little creature by her side. The farm girl drops to her knees in the snow and gently holds out an ungloved hand to the baby bear. "Hei lille bjørn," she whispers to him in Skald, and then looks up at Linge. "Yours?"
Rarely has a stranger set of heroes set out on a journey from the small town of Heldren, but other than the councilwoman, no one comes to see them off.
The information Yuln provided reveals that the site of the ambush sits about 5 miles outside of Heldren, which you think will take you about 3 hours to reach.
When Horn sees a tall, slender Ulfen woman approaching, he freezes by Linge's side, his black eyes locked on her. Linge holds him steady and whispers something in his ear, apparently afraid of his reaction -but the bear cub is pretty relaxed, and lets himself be petted and seizes this opportunity to sniff her pale, slim fingers, before Linge can warn her about the tickling.
He is intrigued, but not nervous -contrary to his trainer.
"It's, um. Sort of, I believe. I found him in the woods, four months ago. Though I wouldn't say I own him, it's... Sometimes it's almost like he can read my thoughts, and I can read his."
Too weird, Linge. Too weird.
Linge starts scratching Horn behind the ears. He certainly doesn't seem to mind being the centre of attention.
It suddenly dawns on her that this is the first time she's heard the woman speak.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've quite caught your name. Mine's Linge. Have you just arrived in Heldren?"
Paldo made his way through the small town of Heldren returning to his and his brothers residence. He opened door and immediately noticed the crisp smell and crackle of a fire in the hearth. "It's not that cold yet Grimthar is it?" His brother sitting in a chair beside the fire simply shrugged. Paldo began "Well I have had quite the day while you have been sleeping. There was an injured man in town claiming to be the body guard of a rich noblewoman. It appears she's been abducted, and since you chose to remain in bed this morning it's now up to me to rescue her and reap the rewards." Paldo narrowed his gaze "Before you even think of joining me, there are already several volunteers, you missed your chance. Besides someone needs to stay here and keep an eye on the place, I doubt it will take that long, a day or two perhaps."
Paldo moved into his room immediately going to the closet. Opening it he pulled out an old chest containing various items from his past in the North. He found some old furs meant to cover as much of his body as they could. Blowing the cobwebs off of them he pulled them out. "Hopefully I don't need to wear this too long" he thought to himself.
Looking back on Heldren as they left Paldo was certain this task would not take long and soon enough he would be back in front of the warm hearth with his brother.
As the journey began Paldo moved up beside Honsul to strike up a conversation. "Looks like your sister didn't make it after all? That's too bad I would have liked to meet her. My brother didn't accompany us either, I left him at home to tend to our affairs. Fear not, we will see them both soon enough."
After making his purchases, Garran makes his way back to the apothecary shop where Yuln is resting.
"I'll take you up on your loan of your sword." Garran tells the frost bit Ulfen. "But I leave you my blade, until I can return yours." Garran draws the scabbarded weapon out from under his wide leather belt and places it leaning up against a chair within easy reach. He takes up Yuln's weapon, replacing his own.
"Thank you." Garran nods to the northman, then hurries out.
Seeing the group of other rescuers collecting Garran strides over. "All ready then?" The cleric un-slings his shield from his pack, and takes it up with his left hand.
"I can take the point."
Sigrun nods at Garran as he approaches, her own shield already in hand. "I can be up in front with you", she offers to her fellow Ulfen. She remains silent as they set off, staying vigilant, casting around her steely glare at the foreign environment, only speaking when spoken to first.
Glim is fascinated by Horn, though he keeps a respectful distance, not every coming closer than five or six feet.
"Found him in the woods? Or he found you? His mother? A sad tale, no doubt. Alas. The way of the wild. Nature. Cruel mother. Nature, that is. Not as nurturing as people say. Even where I'm from, one can observe acts of great kindness and cruelty. Still. Horn. A curious name? Unless you believe that he shall soon grow a horn? Become, as it were, a unibear?"
All this said with the utmost seriousness.
Glim himself is wearing a new outfit; tricked out in slate blue and black leathers, his new outfit is padded and reinforced on the knees and elbows, and at the joints a lush, black fur peaks out, as if the whole of it is gorgeously lined within.
"It grows very cold in the Darklands, as it is called, here." He gazes pensively at his scuffed and well-worn outfit. "This, however, ameliorates the worst of it. Perhaps, given the frigid nature of our foes, it shall be of help up here."
Once everyone arrives he nods to them all, and then takes a spot in the center of the group, peering around them as they walk with all the curiosity of one who has only been on the surface of the world for a week or so.
Linge cannot help but chuckle. A unibear?
"I took him in after his mother died," she explains, ruffling the bear cub's fur. "And I'm afraid that his name doesn't have any profound meaning. He's just... Really noisy."
Like any little terror of a child, Horn shoots her an outraged look, the perfect image of juvenile innocence.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've quite caught your name. Mine's Linge. Have you just arrived in Heldren?"
The girl nods. ”Halleva,” she offers, and takes a step back as the rest of the group arrives, pressing her mouth into a nervous line as they prepare to depart.
Honsul picked up a child sized Cold-Weather outfit from a local merchant and his mom was insistent hat he wear a lime green knitted hat on his head so that “his new friends could find him if he gets lots in the snow.”
Honsul and (the fully manifested, ectoplasmic) Gritil will move in the middle of the party either side by side or with Gritil in front. They will prioritize standing close to Horn as well.
Upon arriving back to the group to head out, Honsul takes a minute to shunt Gritil out of his mind and into the space next to him. Coincidentally this happens as Paldo approaches from the other side to ask about Grilil.
“What are you talking about Paldo?” Honsul’s voice rises as he ponders Paldo’s question. She’s been with us the whole time silly!”
With a warm smile, Gritil adds ”Such a pleasure to have you joining this expedition. I just know you’re going to be a great help!
Having grown up in these woods, a sense of calm serene fills Honsul and Gritil as they move with the group. The two spent years in the Border Woods (both before and after “The Incident”) and the journey’s beginning feels meditative for the usually rambunctious and chatty pair.
However, the pair do immediately spot Horn and immediately become infatuated.
”Do you think we can pet him, or should we ask first?” Gritil contemplates under her breathe to Honsul.
Rather less quietly, “I’m not entirely sure how to ask a bear a question. Do you think he would understand this?” Honsul pantomimes stroking the lime green knitted hat while responding.
About two hours into your journey, the temperatures begin to plummet, the winds pick up, and you start seeing signs of snow, a sight almost unheard of in southern Taldor at this time of year. The farther you travel, the more ground is covered in snow.
Wind blows snow in Linge's face, forcing her to blink twice as more. She has trouble seeing where she's going, and Horn has got snow up to his knees, slowing him down.
She's ready to bet that it's the work of the cold feys.
They're getting closer, but it's probably going to be difficult to find Lady Thurdanhelm. It's worth a try to ask Horn to pick up her trail.
She reaches for the Lady's ring, kneeling next to the bear cub so that he can sniff it:
"Here, boy! Track!" she encourages him.
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Glim grumbles as he tucks his chin into his chest, hugging himself tightly as he walks into the flurries.
"So this is snow. I cannot say I am in favor of it." He's not really talking to anybody in particular. "I shall allow a moderate aesthetic pleasure in its appearance. Moderate. But it will make the hurling of bombs a challenge."
Halleva keeps her face turned up, letting the snow catch in her eyelashes and hair that isn't contained in her hood, and relishing in the feeling of the cold against her skin. It may be the cause of all her fears, but it's hard to deny the feeling of familiar comfort and delight that it brings her.
She sets her jaw, emotions roiling within her as she picks up her feet, trudging through the snow with practiced ease.
Sigrun grips her shield tightly and wraps her furs around her as the unseasonable snows build and build. It's been a long time since she was last exposed to this kind of weather, but she feels at home - at least when she isn't feeling unnerved by its clearly unnatural nature. Either way, she doesn't let it show. They've got a job to do - a person to save - and there's no time to mess around.
The snow whipped into Paldo's face causing his eye lashes to fuse together as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "What sorcery is this??! I feel like I am back in Waldsby! This cannot be natural this far south." He had cast his protections from the bitter cold that morning which kept is body temperature normal, however it didn't make it any easier to walk or see as the small pellets assaulted his face.
As much as Paldo wanted to avoid the front of the formation he found himself moving into Sigrun's shadow (if a shadow could be seen in the storm). Standing only half Sigrun's height Paldo was sheltered from the whipping snow by the ulfen's hulking size and armor. Recognizing's Garran's markings as a follower of Iomedae, Paldo tried to yell over the storm "Garran! I pray that Iomedae and Sarenrae have not decided to abandon us! We could really use their help right now.
"She would never." Garran answers over the rushing wind. Garran finds the chill invigorating. The lack of visibility is of greater concern. Garran squints into the swirling mass of grey and slogs ahead through the deep snow.
As the air turns more frigid and snow begins to cloud visibility, Honsul pulls his winter coat around him tight. Following Paldo’s lead, Honsul and Gritil attempt to move in behind the large Ulfin women’s shadow to allow her body to block some of the wind and snow. The pair also discover walking becomes easier if they focus on walking in the snowprints created by their companions heavy steps.
I'm assuming that the Northern Ancestry trait counts as "some other way of combating the cold".
After another hour or so of traveling through the blowing wind and snow, you see something on the road ahead. Moving closer, you see that the road is littered with debris and the corpses of slain humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. Further along, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a statue of ice. A snowy trail leads deeper into the forest.
Taking advantage of the cover provided by the tall evergreen trees, Linge scans her surroundings, while Horn sniffs the air. There may be people to heal, but it is no use falling head first into a trap.
"I shall take a look around," says the deep gnome rather enigmatically, and then takes to the shadows beneath the trees, moving slowly and carefully through the drifts as he peers at the scene of the ambush.
Picking his way cautiously, taking his time, the svirfneblin makes his way clockwise around the area, pausing here and there at the toppled carriage and corpses.
Garran pauses to look around for enemies, before moving in to check the wagons.
The snow is falling steadily enough that Glim isn't able to find any sign of tracks, but he and Garran both hear muffled sounds of movement inside the eastern carriage just as Horn perks up, smelling something foul from that same direction, and begins to growl.
Horn's behaviour becomes more and more aggressive, and Linge knows the bear cub well enough to know that it is very bad news.
" Glim. Garran. Everyone. Grab your weapons."
Kneeling in the snow, the young woman rests a hand on Horn's head, whispering a few words into his ear. There is brief and dim flash of light. The bear cub leaves the cover of the trees, and appears ready to join Garran.
Glim fights the urge to light his pipe as he considers the carriage, and slowly lets a bomb slip down into his open hand. Waving to the others to catch their attention, he points at the eastern carriage.
Halleva muffles a cry at the grisly scene before them, feeling self-conscious about her fears around the rest of the group, particularly the older and more experienced Ulfen man and woman.
At Linge's warning, she takes a defensive posture in the snow. Some of her hair seems to stand on end, even in the shelter of the trees, as she watches the carriage with wide eyes.
"Is that an ice statue or a frozen person?" Sigrun muses out loud as she pushes through the bush beside Garran. Before she can go over and investigate, though, the others warn of possible hostiles, so she turns and readies her shield.
Paldo felt his mouth drop in horror at the sight of all the slain humans and horses. He noticed he is not the only one taken aback as he sees Halleva try to hide her shock.
Never being very perceptive, Paldo began to focus on the strange ice sculpture, the focal point of the massacre. ”This certainly looks out of place.” he muttered to himself before he spoke the words of an incantation.
Before he could take too much time to study the statue an aweful smell filled his nostrils. When Linge shouted her warning to grab weapons, Paldo tightened his grip on his sling. Realizing he only used the sling as a last resort, he readied his mind waiting to see what would jump out at them.
"Something making noise inside this carriage. Hostile, I'm assuming." Garran gestures toward the back of the eastern carriage. "Let's get into position, and I'll pop the door open."
Looking more closely at the ice statue, Paldo can now clearly tell that it is indeed a frozen person, though with parts of his body chiseled off and dropped at his feet.
Let's get into position, and I'll pop the door open.
Horror sweeps across Honsul and Gritil's face as the severity of the situation becomes apparent to them. The twins thought they knew what they were getting into, but carnage on this scale was previously unknown to them.
However scared, the pair take up a position behind the much taller (and hopefully more enticing) full sized companions when they hear Garran order everyone into position. Honsul glances around for a branch or rock to launch with telekenetics.
Paldo maneuvers himself between Honsul and Linge looking out from behind a thick ice covered tree trunk.
Looking a bit closer at the carriage as Garran approaches, you see marks of Taldan heraldry and extensive damage from the arrows that litter its side. A spear has been wedged between the handles of the carriage doors to hold them closed.
Garran slides the spear out and swings open the door. Immediately, a number of corpses wearing soiled rags, their flesh rotting off their bones, pile out of through the doors.
A flash of light bursts in front of one of the creatures, but it doesn't react in the slightest.
Glim inhales sharply at the sight of the corpses as they begin to move, leaning over the snow encrusted log to stare with wide eyes, then, in a jerky movement that seems more reflex than purposeful, he thumbs a small vial down into the bomb he holds and hurls it up high to arc down and explode in their midst, a wreath of crimson and black flames engulfing the closest zombie and splashing over onto the others.
"Ha! Experience a dose of Glim's Fulgurous Decoction, you - you foul creatures!"
The zombies grunt in rage as the fire washes over them, but doesn't seem to slow their surge forward.
Green: 15/19
Blue: 17/19
Yellow: 17/19
Not impressed by the swarm of corpses, Horn let out a growl and lunges forward to deliver a powerful bite.
Linge takes out her sling, aiming at the nearest zombie:
Paldo watchied in horror as the corpses spilled out of the caravan. Without thinking he fired off the spell he had ready on the tip of his tongue. It flashed with a bright light in the face of one of the moving corpses but it didn't seem to phase it what so ever. He took a quick moment to asses their foes.
After realizing the true nature of his foes, Paldo cursed knowing that his attempt to phase the creature would have no effect. As his allies moved into combat Paldo shouted "Companions! Pull out your blades if you have them, they will be much more effective!"
Sigrun's eyes narrow as the enemy tumbles out of the carriage - finally a chance to test her skills live. Heeding the halfling's warning, she draws her battleaxe as she moves up, then swings, but the carriage restricts her angles of attack, and her blow doesn't connect.
Halleva's fears are made flesh as a series of corpses stumble out of the carriage, and as panic sets in, she is overtaken by the most base of instincts; her ruddy Ulfen features become deathly pale, her hair whips about as if in a violent snowstorm, and most gruesome of all, her fingernails twist and grow into sharp, icy claws. She lunges toward the creatures, ready to kill or be killed!
"Zombies!" Garran exclaims, in tones tinged with loathing. He grasps his symbol of Iomedae, a simple painted wooden disk, and brandishes it at the undead.
"Abominations! Be gone! The will of Iomedae compels it!"
A dim flash of silvery light strobes from the holy symbol for a brief instant.
.