Tivli squints at the figures, but can't tell anything about them. She can pick out a few moving among the animals, but the glare on the snow and the distance means she can see shadowy shapes at best. It's impossible to tell who, or even truly, what, they are.
"I think we should determine if they're friend or foe before we continue. If there's to be a fight, I'd rather it happen out here than in there."
Tivli starts to approach the herd. She has no weapons drawn, but mutters a quick incantation on her bow, just in case.
Bubbles wanders in the same direction, making it clear she's going this way anyway and is in no way following Tivli.
Petronia watched Tivli approach the humanoid-containing herd, ”Make it quick. We don’t have a whole lot of time to spare. We are essentially in a race after all. And I’m with Ner, I don’t particularly want to fight the locals if I don’t have to.”
Tivli moves into the plains, having to move carefully to keep from getting too close to the large bison and even larger mammoths. She sees one of the figures notice her, and hears a whistle of warning. The figures vanish from site - they seem to be deliberately hiding from view.
Tivli watches the figures seemingly trying to hide from her. They're not particularly friendly, but they don't seem dangerous either. She turns back to her friends.
They're not engaging, and not attacking. If you're not worried, let's keep going. But we should keep a careful watch on our rear as we go through the gorge."
"Assuming we do go down the gorge," Matheus said, looking up - as Tivli volunteered to scout the druid had taken the opportunity to rest his feet for a bit and had found himself a comfortable rock to sit on. "I suppose there's a reason why the tracks avoidede the gorge - might have something to do with whatever killed that great big cat. On the other hand, that's where the map directs us..."
Ner tightened his lips and held his chin, his other hand supporting the first's elbow like he was about to make a very shrewd decision. He weighed what everyone was saying and nodded, so much to consider. Probable danger or possible danger or difficult danger were the options he could hear. He took a deep breath in like he was about to say something, then he went back to following Petronia.
Petronia took up position as rear guard. "I'll keep watch from behind in case they try to attack us by following us into the gorge but I think it's time to keep following Skagni's map. We're already behind."
"I suppose there's a reason why the tracks avoided the gorge - might have something to do with whatever killed that great big cat. On the other hand, that's where the map directs us..."
"Unfortunately there's no other way. The path leading up is far too treacherous to attempt, and if we try to go through the herd we'll just end up at a cliff."
Tivli goes first, bow at the ready, keeping a careful eye out for danger as she leads the way through the gorge.
The party heads into the gorge. The snow is deeper here, not being scoured away by the bitter winds. The gorge is about 30 feet across, and the walls are 50-80 feet high.
Moving cautiously, keeping an eye behind them, they head into the gorge. The gorge doesn't run in a straight line, and by the time they're 100 meters in they can no longer see the opening. It's then that they hear something. A deep, rumbling sound. Bubbles suddenly hisses, and Matheus can feel the ground vibrating beneath the snow.
Fearing an earthquake, they look up to the gorge walls, but see no shaking or movement. Which can mean only one thing.
Tivli shoulders her bow and pulls out her boarding axe.
"Stampede! Quick, everyone, over here!"
Tivli does a fast scan for an area of the gorge wall that looks easiest to climb. She positions herself at the bottom, ready to give anyone who needs one a boost.
Bubbles scrambles past Tivli, clawing her way up the wall.
Ner rushes to the wall of the gorge. He fished out the climbing spikes from his kit and, as treacherous as it might be, he started climbing.
Stampede indeed. You need to get 20 feet up the walls, Climb DC 15. You all succeeded your perception, so you get the equivalent of two rounds of actions before the stampede arrives. So two chances to make the climb check. +2 for Tivli's help, for one round, but she'll need the second round to climb.
Petronia swore as Tivli's warning made the vibrations make sense. She did not like her odds since she was at the back and therefore the closest to the stampeding bison and mammoths. The bison were bad enough but out of control mammoths were truly something to be concerned about.
The brawler felt along the wall but couldn't find purchase and she could feel her heart beginning to pound in her chest as she experienced momentary panic.
Instinctively, she shifted into her more bestial form giving herself much needed claws to help her penetrate the icy walls. The additional traction afforded by her claws allowed her to scramble up the side of the gorge and out of the way of the stampeding animals.
"Sweet dreasming heavens," Matheus murmured as he realized what was coming their way. He didn't have time to wonder what had driven the herd or whatever beasts these were into headlong panic, but figuring that out could come later - this was the time for some some panic of his own.
The druid scampered up the gorge wall with everything he had, thankful that the snow and ice coating the rock at places didn't have much of an effect on his grip, as he was far from a strong climber - his bulk wasn't built for such physical activities in mind.
Tivli's ready to help, but everyone manages to scramble up the gorge wall without her. Only Bubbles has trouble, her claws scratching at the rock and ice.
"Come on Bubbles, it's just like that time in Hillcross with the demonic elk!"
Her encouraging words inspire Bubbles to dig deep, and she finally finds purchase. Tivli follows, her face getting thwacked with Bubbles' tail every few seconds.
You scramble up the steep walls of the canyon, just in the nick of time. The herd of bison, more than a hundred, come thundering through the narrow gorge. Despite the fact that the animals weren't lowing, the noise was thunderous. It took less than fifteen seconds for the stampede to pass, and half a minute later, the gorge was quiet once again.
Knowing all of her friends are safe, Tivli allows herself to enjoy the magnificence of the stampede. The feel and sound of the herd rattle her bones. She grins at Bubbles, who hisses in reply.
Once the herd has passed, Tivli drops easily to the ground. She turns to the others. "Did you see? Some of the bison had blood on their haunches. As if they'd been lashed. I wonder if those humanoid figures set them upon us." She tries to keep the I told you we should investigate subtext out of her voice. That tone never wins friends, no matter how accurate it is.
Ner clung for dear life to the icy cliff face his left ear pressed hard against the wall. Through the surface of the ice it was as if the stampede was amplified. He didn't look around. The last he saw was Petronia sliding back down to the gorge floor. His eyes tight he waited for the creatures to pass but continued to cling for an uncomfortable amount of time after they had gone.
Petronia held her perch until she was absolutely sure that no more animals were coming. As soon as she was convinced the coast was clear, she jumped down. She ran her claws along the wall of icy snow leaving gauges as she went, "If we had more time," she growled, "I'd double back and teach the locals some manners. But the best revenge right now is to do what we came to do."
She decided to stay in her wolf-like form because it afforded her heightened senses. It's not like they were remotely near civilization and so the warnings her parents had always given her growing up seemed not to apply in the harsh barrenness of where they were.
She looked up at Ner whose eyes seemed to be glued shut, "You planning on staying up there all day, Ner?"
Ner opened one eye and saw Petronius was ok. He scuttled down the wall and ran over to hug her leg. ”I knew you wouldn’t be stampeded.” He was a bit hard to shake off but after a bit he followed the others on their way forward.
"Agreed," the druid said, nodding to Petronia as he made his way down with more care than he had displayed during his frantic way up. "If those people drove their herd at us it's pretty good proof they are not interested in talking. If we go to them, we are going to have to fight them, more likely than not. If we continue, they might be satisfied having already shown us we are not welcome."
You move carefully through the gorge, the snow now trampled by the hundreds of hooves. About a half a mile long, the gorge then opens back up, and the main path continues to weave into the mountains.
A dozen Kellid warriors with painted faces stand vigilant in the center of the route. Although they are armed with axes and round, Ulfen-styled shields, their weapons are not drawn. At the head, a tall and powerfully-built figure with piercing eyes steps forward. As he approaches, his hands are held palm up until he is close enough for words. “I am Hiryla,” he says in broken Common, his words flowing with a strange cadence that suggests that he is speaking words that were given to him by another to say. “You come with me… We must talk.”
Tivli does a double-take as she notices Petronia's claws. What a handy trick! Tivli has so many questions, though senses that this is not the time to ask them.
As they approach the Kellid Warriors, Tivli steps forward, hoping her friends will hold off attacking if she's in their way.
She replies to Hiryla in Hallit: "I am Tivli, and this is Petronia, Ner and Matheus. Also known as the Mighty Finders League. Where would you have us go? We mean no disrespect, but we're in quite a hurry."
'For once, a group of locals who want to talk,' the druid mused, his eyes drawn to the shields whose form reminded him of his adobted homeland. If the wielder of the axe they shought had indeed been an Ulfen, perhaps these ones might be somehow related to him - or some local tribes that that mighty warrior had made allies of... or subjugated.
Looking a bit surprised to be addressed in Hallit, the leader realizes Tivli is a "local", and smiles hesitantly. "You will come to our village to speak to our elders. You will speak of your purpose here, and we will decide whether to aid you, or kill you."
Turning to the east, he begins walking, the other warriors closing ranks around you. "Come."
It looks like he's leading you due east, only slightly south of the path laid out on Skagni's map.
Tivli translates Hiryla's message.
"I appreciate his honesty," She says thoughtfully. "I think we should talk to the elders. They'll be sure to help us and may be able to offer some valuable insights into our quest."
Tivli looks to the others, hoping they'll agree.
Petronia kept a wary eye on the warriors as their leader spoke. She crossed her arms and sighed, then mumbled, "Great, more talking." Even though she wasn't thrilled with the delay, she never protested as they were lead away by Hiryla.
"Still an improvement over immediately trying to kill us on sight," Matheus murmured. "Particualrly since we are still going in the right general direction."
You travel for about an hour, more or less parallel to Skagni's trail. You see smoke plumes over a hill, and seem to be heading for it. A few minutes later you crest the hill and see a Kellid camp at the base on the other side. Unlike the fur and hide tents common among the nomadic northerners, this village is composed of small, round houses and low, long buildings built of stone with thatched roofs. The rectangular, round-topped buildings number almost 20 in all, gathered around a central, circular building that is larger and grander than the rest.
Inside this grand hall, dozens of Kellid men, women, and children scurry to and fro, passing food and drink around an enormous central hearth. Long, low benches ring the fire, and a handful of elderly Kellids, decked out in ornate white furs sit on the other side of the flames from the building’s entrance.
A young woman with one leg, walking with the aid of a crutch, greets Hiryla in Hallit, and then turns to the door and speaks in perfect Common. “Welcome to the North,” she says with a broad grin and a handshake. “My name is Teyma.”
[tag introductions/questions]
"The snowmask clan has fought a group of travelers out of Irrisen many times in the last few days as the intruders have come farther and farther into our lands. We know you have spared our people when you can, and we wish to know why. Why have two groups of foreigners come into our land, along the same route, so close together?"
Glancing at the elders, Teyma added softly, "My people love a good story. The better you speak it, the more likely you are to sway their hearts to help you."
EDIT: You can speak in Common and Teyma will translate for you.
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Ner stepped forward and dropped his bag to the ground. He wrung his hands in suplication. He knew the moment was solum and desperate. When he spoke he spoke to the elders. "Scabknee said we had to go 'Cuze there was no one else and we wuz the only ones close when the Shadow Logs they already left from the goblin basement with the ice dragon, yup, they had a whole dragon and they still wanted a dark power thing even though we were supposed to read the chest with Scabknee but instead we went an' fought with a ramirez that we gave to the dried-up lady until we found the bear-verine an' all those dead people, well except for the guy who got up and left and he wasn't happy about it. Um ... I think we're late but I'm not sure what time it is." Ner stopped and looked to Teyma. He waited for her to translate. When everything stayed quiet he walked backwards to where he started. Confused, he looked to Matheus.
Tivli gives a nervous laugh. "Ha, yes, well put my friend," Tivli says, keeping an eye on Teyma for her reaction.
Hopeful that they'll give some credit to her origins, Tivli continues "I am Tivli Darksnarl of the Smilodon Clan. And these are my friends.
Matheus Winterglade, Petronia Fangborne and Ner. And my companion, Bubbles," She motions reverently to the badger, who is stalking the perimeter of the hall, sniffing suspiciously at all she passes.
"We thank you for welcoming us into your home. And while Ner has provided the, uh, broad strokes of our quest, perhaps you'll allow Matheus to fill in some of the finer details.”
”For the intrusion, we apologize,” Matheus began, now quite knowing whether to smile or wince at Ner’s… compact version of the events. ”As you know, we have crossed blades with the people of your lands several times now. You should also know we have fought back only reluctantly, to protect ourselves. For we have been given a quest, and we are honor-bound to finish it or die trying.” The druid rather hoped these tribespeople had been influenced by the Ulfen not only in their choice of weaponry – the people of his adopted homeland were big believers in words of honor and quests, after all.
”We seek the Keep of the Huscarl King and the great weapon hidden there, according to ancient legends,” the druid went on, eyes open for any reaction to his words from the people in the room. ”Not to claim it, nor to use it, but to prevent lost brothers and sisters of our Society from stealing it for their own fell purposes. We have already foiled their plans to sow discord in the Ulfen lands, and rescued our imprisoned friend from their stronghold, only to learn their ambition had driven them to your lands, robbing us from a chance to deal with the oathbreakers. And thus, we give chase. Again, I apologize trekking through lands of you and your ancestors without leave, but our quest and our honor compels us. We would have peace with you, but we cannot turn back with our task unfinished.”
Petronia leaned forward to tap Matheus’ on the shoulder and said bluntly, ”Tell them about the cave paintings. They may not know about them. And if this clan is the one in the paintings then they should want to help us keep the axe from falling into the wrong hands.”
"Ooh, and tell them about how I rescued that crate by flying it out of a gorge! If they love a good story, that's one of the best."
The gathered elders listen to Matheus's words, impressed that he speaks in their language. Every face in the house perks up, some in surprise, some in fear, when he mentions the Keep of the Huscarl King. However, when he finishes his compact version of events, their expressions are mostly one of disappointment. They perk up a bit when Teyma translates about the cave paintings, and the flying crate. Then there is a long and awkward silence.
Hiryla says in Hallit, and Teyma translates, "You speak to your purpose, but that is not your story. How can we judge your true intention when you hide your story from us? Speak more of your journey, of your deeds."
Motioning to Ner, he continued, "The little one has none of your eloquence, but his broken tale of dragons, ramirez, and goblins says more about you than your honeyed words of diplomacy."
”True, but sometimes meaning can be lost in a flood of words. But if you want a story a skald might sing…” Matheus shrugged, cleared his throat and began again.
”Harken, then, to the tale of our wrought journey to this land of winter winds from the lands to the south. Our roads were brought together in the fair city of Absalom, the City at the Center of the World, where an elder of our Order called upon us, to send us on a quest that seemed both easy and simple yet proved to be neither...” Matheus was no bard but he did have a way with words and he had heard more than his fair share of tales in many an inn, some of them old, well-known legends told by master wordsmiths. So he had some idea how to weave their tale into a similar form.
”There were four of us brought together by the quest, as there are here, now, before you, but only three of us were there in the beginning, walking the marbled halls of the Grand Lodge of the Pathfinders, to meet an aging Venture-Captain, a well respected veteran of many a harrowed journey into the bowels of this world and perhaps many others in the days of his youth, to uncover secrets frozen in time as ages passed. Can you imagine our pride and joy at being singled out and called forth by such a person? To be trusted to go where his aged bones could no longer carry his own person?”
”When we heard of the mission, to carry a mysterious chest to the Lands of the Linnorm Kings we did not hesitate. The first leg of our journey was to be by the seas, carried by a skilled veteran of the blue waters, an Ulfen Captain of the Froth Wolf. Have you ever seen the sea? A vast, boundless field of blue, an expanse that can turn from glass smooth to towering waves that seem to reach for the very heavens in mere hours! A place of power and elemental violence, a place that can crush the greatest of ships into kindling if one dares take its mercy for granted. Now, we were spared the worst of the storms on our journey, no doubt in large part thanks to the skill of our Captain, who seemed to be able to whisper to the winds themselves, and glean truths about the future from the movements of the sea birds. But the journey was not without its dangers – oh no. Mere days after leaving the Inner Sea behind and reaching the Arcadian Ocean, we sprung a trap laid by hags of the deep seas! A body of one of their earlier victims, tied to a piece of flotsam to spur us into attempting to rescue the poor wretch – and what sailor would leave one of his own kind behind, lost to the high seas? If one does not offer help, one has no right to expect to receive it were one in the need for rescue in the future! But ships are victims of the very winds they rely on to move around, and not easy things to turn around in a hurry, so I took it upon myself to dive into the seas – I had little fear of sinking, since I always carry my own life preserver wherever I go,” the druid went on, taking a swing from his waterskin to whet his throat while rubbing his impressive, bare stomach with the other hand, inviting the audience to join him in laughter.
He told the tale simply but truthfully, from his conjuration of the aquatic cavalry of hippocampi to revealing the ambush to their combined efforts to dive the hags trying to board the ship back under the waves.
”… and then, finally, we reached our destination. Trollheim, the kingless city ruled by Castellan Freyr Darkwine, mighty commander of the Blackravens who patrol the border between the Ulfen lands and those of the Irrisen. Weary of our long journey, we hoped to deliver our mysterious burden into the hands of the famed historian, only to find his home burned to the ground, enemies lurking in every shadow to slay anyone who tried to seek the man out, and fell plots abound, to turn the good people of the Linnorm lands against our very own Society!”
He went on with his story, telling the clanspeople about their various encounters with the fallen Pathfinders and their minions, the occasionally humorous run-ins with the local City Watch and their habit of keeping to find themselves in ever deeper trouble – but also of their talent of clawing their way over every obstacle throw in their path. He told how they parted ways with one of their companions, but picked up an Irrisen Witch to take his place almost immediately, and of their frantic battle against the Shadow Lodge members and their local agents as they sought to send the Castellan and his forces against the Pathfinders by assaulting the local armory, intending to leave behind only corpses and proof that pointed in the Society’s direction.
”Finally, our enemies we overpowered and surrendered or slain outright, and we had a chance to have some questions answered,” the druid went on, ”but rather than an end to our travels we realized we had only been given another task – the scholar we were seeking was alive, but under thrall of the Shadow Lodge members in Irrisen, in the land of the White Witches, in the home to the children of the witch-mother itself!”
Inspired by Matheus’ tale, Tivli steps forward to tell the small piece she knows. She speaks in Hallit
”I’m from the small Smilodon Clan in the Realm of Mammoth Lords. Our people worship the Smilodon, or Saber-tooth Tigers as they're sometimes known. We’re a fierce people who pride ourselves on our ability to tame and train the mighty Similodon.
“We have a ritual when a child comes of age, where you're sent into the wilderness alone to find your kindred animal. My family was shocked when I returned three days later with a mewing baby badger.” Tivli looks at Bubbles fondly. ”She was so small she could curl up in the palm of my hand, making a perfect little fuzzy circle that could have been blown away by a gentle breeze. What was I supposed to do, let the young Similodon eat her?
“My mom said yes, that’s exactly what I was supposed to do. But the elders said that each person had a kindred on the tundra and our hearts would find them. And my heart found Bubbles.
“My parents sent me on a secret quest, they said to toughen up me and Bubbles, though I’m fairly certain the Gem of Orillious doesn’t exist.”
It’s still difficult to talk about. Tivli wipes away a tear as she continues. ”Bubbles and I have spent the last 6 years wandering the north, helping folks when we could in exchange for an interesting trinket or a good story.
“And that would be the end of my tale, if fate had not brought these fine folks to me a few weeks ago.
“Bubbles and I were exploring what was surely the remnants of a frost giant trap in a deep ice crevasse, and found a delightful little chest. It was the perfect opportunity to try out a little treasure I’d been carrying - an enchanted feature that would sprout wings on any object! I rode that flying chest right out of the ravine and to the feet of 3 folks who were destined to be my new friends. Bubbles and I have seen many fantastic things on our journey, and it’s always delightful to witness something new. These 3 were traveling with a Snowman! A very focused Snowman who took the chest without so much as a hello.
“I didn’t know anything about this Pathfinder Society, but I did know that these three were about to embark on a dangerous journey through a land they didn’t know. It felt like destiny - Bubbles and I were meant to escort them and help keep them from harm.
“We headed north together, staying very cozy nights in these marvellous little shelters that Matheus is able to create. Not long into our travels we came across a collapsed bridge over a frozen river. I’d heard of great monsters that lived under the ice, but honestly thought it was stories created by locals to lure travellers to the bridges to ambush. Well, was I wrong! A giant heat serpent erupted from the river and swallowed Petronia whole! She is a mighty warrior and punched her way out of the beast’s stomach. Then we climbed down into the ice and explored the tunnels the creature used to get around. We found some of its eggs we had to destroy, and I cut off some of its exoskeleton and a leg to show a local town, in case they didn’t believe us. They told us the beast was called a Remorhaz. The ladyship who runs the town - I’m not entirely sure, but I think she and her friend were dead! But alive…anyway, she was very happy and gave us all potions.
“We kept heading north, and when we first crossed into the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, well, it’s the first time I’ve been back since my parents sent me away. And we came across the remains of a battle, and that’s when we first met your warriors and fought a giant wolverine.
“We met more in this druid circle and I tried to talk to them, but they kept attacking and unfortunately my friends killed a few defending themselves.
“We spent an evening in a cave that had been home to two starved dinosaurs. Ner and Matheus made us the most delicious dino-stew. That was the cave Matheus spoke of, with the beautiful paintings of the history of the weapon.
“That pretty much brings us to where we met you, right after we had to scale the gorge walls to escape that bison stampede. Say, was it your folk who set the herd upon us? We saw figures hiding among the animals but couldn’t get a good look.”
"You asked what our true intentions are. I believe that my friends speak the truth when they say they want to stop the others from obtaining this weapon, those who would use it for great evil. As for me... I want to help them. And, hopefully one day, be able to return home and show my parents that Bubbles is a worthy companion, and I'm a worthy daughter.
Tivli looks a tired and a little amazed at having spoken for so long. And at having an audience who listened. She smiles a little apologetically and steps back, suddenly embarrassed.
Ner stood quietly and, although he couldn't understand a single word anyone was saying, milked as much as he could from the tones of peoples voices ... which was very little. His efforts in gleaning some information kept him from fidgeting and he perked up whenever he heard the words 'Ner' or 'Matheus' or even 'Bubbles'. He watched the elders and their people to see if they were listening and happy.
Petronia never had eloquent or many words to say but she felt the need to add, "Duty. My story involves duty. I was tasked with a job to do and I have every intention of seeing it through. I refuse to let the Shadow Society obtain and use a weapon of mass destruction against those who can't fight for themselves."
After you finish your tale, there are many excited and interested murmurs as the elders and others in the hall remark on it to each other. It is clear that your tale has made a positive impression on them.
After a few minutes, one of the elders, her face painted white like those of Hiryla and the other warriors, stands from the bench. With no other cue the room falls silent as she speaks. Her words have a strength and resonance belied by her withered frame.
“Your tale is one of honour, and well-told. We thank you for it, and will keep it alive in our clan. In return, we gift you this; the story that the elders told me when I was a child. Once, a great warrior came to our lands from the South, though his blood and his beard were of the West, in the land where the first dragons hunt and kill. With gold and magic this warrior built a stone keep at the base of a mighty mountain. During this time he came to us, in peace, and invited us to his hearth with gifts of furs. Humbly he asked the elders of our clan if he could hunt with them and share in our ways. Quickly he proved himself a friend to all, sharing in our customs and sharing his with us."
“By the time the last stone was laid in his keep, he had hunted with the elders many times, and made many kills. His axe, sheathed in fire, had protected us from the white wolves and the yetis, just as we too had used our food and furs to keep him warm against the deepest colds. When his banner was raised, the elders were guests in his hall, and some of his own house had already merged their blood with our own. For years the king and our elders prospered, and we learned of crafts, weapons, and ways different from those that came before."
“Then the white wyrms came. For beneath the keep, in the iced caverns below, the dragons had bred. For years their eggs slept and waited. When they hatched, they plagued the king and his new house, but he fought them back with the strength of his arm and the fire of his axe, and the battle was nearly won. But when a matriarch of the white returned to tend her brood, she was furious at the king and threw herself on the keep in madness. In the season of the longest nights, still the sun set and rose again before the battle was decided. The King struck the wyrm down, even though his armor and his beard were white with the ice of her breath. Our elders made trophies and talismans from what remained of the beast, and helped rebuild the crumbled tower.
“The mammoths crossed the plains ten times, three times over before the great king passed, and still the dragons were kept at bay. When the hour of his dying came, the great and generous Huscarl King gave all within his castle to those that had served and befriended his house, save for his mighty axe. With this, the elders buried him, and as we raise a mound of stones over the dead when the earth is too cold to dig, so did the elders bring the mountain down atop our king. Ever since have we held vigil over his tomb and what lies within. We remember his lessons, his ways that bled into the ways of the elders to become our ways. And we remember his beard, first white with frost, then with age, as it symbolizes what he protected us from and what he stood watch against.”
As Teyma translates the last few words, the room falls into silence once more. The elders and Teyma turn to the four of you, clearly waiting for your reaction.
Ner let out an involuntary "Ooooooooo"
Tivli listens to the Elder's tale with rapt attention, barely breathing for fear of missing a word. Even Bubbles settles down, crouching under a bench, her wide eyes fixed on the storyteller.
"That is an impressive story, and well-told. Thank you for sharing it with us. We're honoured, and will carry it with us always. The Huscarl King sounds like a mighty and generous warrior. Those coming for his weapon must be stopped."
Petronia listened as the elder filled in the gaps of what they'd discerned from the cave paintings.
"Tivli's right. First we stop the Shadow Lodge from acquiring the axe. Then we determine what to do next."
She looked over at their translator before addressing the elder who had spoken, "I know thst it's unwise to assume your help but I would gather from this meeting that you won't actively work against us? We have to stop the Shadow Lodge but I would rather not have to fight any of the Snowmask Clan in the process."
She looked over at their translator before addressing the elder who had spoken, "I know thst it's unwise to assume your help but I would gather from this meeting that you won't actively work against us? We have to stop the Shadow Lodge but I would rather not have to fight any of the Snowmask Clan in the process."
"We would rather the axe of your ancestors didn't fall into the hands of our wayward kin," Matheus added. "In that, at least, it would seem our interest align."
Teyma translated, then added in common, "They're impressed with you and your story. If you ask for help, they may say yes."
"If you would help us, to allow us to help you keep the axe of your ancestor from the hands of those who would use its power to their own benefit, we would be honored," the druid said, bowing his head slightly to the elder - it was, after all, fine to show respect but if these people had retained more of the Ulfen ways, they might not take kindly to too over-the-top attempts to curry their favor. "My blood may be from the South, but I was raised in the Linnorm Lands, and it'd be an honor to fight shoulder to shoulder with people who have kept their tribe's ancient traditions alive for all these passings of seasons."