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Lyudmilla plants her feet in the snow tapping her taste tester spoon against her crossbow, finding a rhythm to the recipe's recitation. Her good eye flicks to Broulnindre slashing away at the lumbering Troll.
B and Alethea slash at the Troll’s knees drawing this rivulets of brownish blood. Meanwhile Hekla reaches upwards with her axe but finds the tiny specimen a too small target.
Dawrbrün advances on the troll and swings his axe at it.
The troll howls in frustration at it's ancient foe as it continues to heal from it's wounds. It does little else.
Another magical bullet flies at Hekla but this one bounces off her magical protections.
Not a single peep can be heard from within the igloo.
Barnaby and Ant both begin to think that shoes that allow for one to cross on top of the snow would be genius!
"Let him alone, you big ugly bastard!" Alethea shouts, lunging forward with a painful slash. She recovers into a guard stance, blade held high and parallel to the ground. "Or are ya too afraid to hit a girl?"
If the faerie is still active after that she'll swing at it again, orherwise she'll go troll-crumpin.
Lyudmilla triggers her recuperative magics for Alethea with a flick of her spoon, her sing-songy repetition never losing a beat.
With a loud thud that sends snow flying in a large puff, the troll lands on its back, driven to unconsciousness from it's accumulated wounds. Hekla punishes the flying fairy but fails to knock it from the sky.
"I shall fong you...until your insides are out, your outsides are in. Your entrails will become your extrails. Pain! Lots of pain!" Dawrbrün yells (in Common) at the faerie circling overhead.
Frank and B hesitate.
The fairy sticks its tongue out at Dawrbrun and leaves itself exposed.
Frank takes another shot with his crossbow.
Broulnindre looks at Frank E before nodding. She lines up a claw strike and tries to cause enough damage to keep it from getting back up. She starts digging into its chest.
Hekla knocks the fairy out of the sky and crashes to the ground, it's body now a smear of blue paste. Broulnindre makes sure the troll stays down and when you peer into the igloo the other fairies flew into, you see three perfect ice sculptures delicately alighting on the ground.
While you've earned a moment of reprieve but the troll is recovering from it's injuries.
Barnaby and Anticipation finally finish trudging around the igloo just in time to witness the coup de grais.
Well that hapoened.
Both then watch in rapt fascination the splattering of fey juices all about the deep snow.
Artistically done!
They both then enter said igloo for curiosity and because they deserve whatever is coming....
"Pesky little twit!"
Hekla will bonk the troll to keep it down for a while and then drag it into an igloo.
Broulnindre gets dragged along, riding on top of the Troll and ripping out guts about as quickly as they grow back.
"Okay, looks like we have time for more alchemist fire. Or... anyone have a torch? I have flint and steel. Might manage to light a fire inside one of the igloos." Frank says, as he walks over, curious how Hekla and/or the troll will fit into the igloo.
As Barnaby and Ant step into the empty igloo they find the ground isn't as stable as they'd hoped. The tarp holding the light dusting of snow disguising the pit falls 20ft.
Do the AoUS and it's gnome follow?
Both Barnaby and Anticipation mercilessly fall, fall, fall down, down, down into the burning ring of fire!
At the bottom of the pit, both begin dusting each other off and searching for anything interesting.
Alethea barely has time to catch her breath before Barnaby and Ant go tumbling into a pit. While she goes to their aid immediately, she's mindful of more potential traps, and so she tests the ground in front of her every few feet with her falcata.
"Are you two all right?"
Dawrbrün takes a moment to retrieve the rope from his backpack.
"Here," he says. "We can pull them back up with this."
Eventually the party manages to set the troll aflame and rescue Barnaby and Ant from an icy doom.
Two bearskin rugs cover most of the damp floor in this cave, surrounded by crates, barrels, and other supplies. The ceiling rises fifteen feet overhead, where icicles of frozen condensation hang from sharp stalactites.
A bank of quill-like icicles spear outward in a ring, seemingly grown from a heavy sheet of ice covering the ground. A second ring of giant icicle-shaped monoliths stands inside the outer ring, surrounding a swirling cylindrical vortex easily ten feet in diameter. Icy winds and driving snow blast from the vortex, creating the wintry weather in the clearing.
Barnaby and Anticipation climb up from the boring pit with frowns on their faces.
Well, that happened!
The pair then begins looting, as if they both belonged to the Pathfinder's Society. Lifting the potions of Featherstep, the gnome kicks grass.
Could've use this last fight! F$*@ing writers!
Gnome and giant Ant then make their way over to the Portal of Endless Winter
We can call this the Portal of Endless Winter.
The gnome then casts Unseen Servant to help carry stuff.
Hunter and Ant begin looking about for anything relevant to this portal.
Nice save, Ant!
Hekla grabs the diadem, one of the sapphire rings, the mirror, and the faerie figurines for further study and will haul whatever else she needs to.
Then she heads to join Barnaby at the swirling vortex!
"Won't be endless once we close it now, will it?"
She'll look around as well and see if she can figure anything out.
"That's...much easier said than done, I'm afraid," Alethea replies, clearly at a loss.
Hekla grins over at Alethea. "Chin up there, princess, we'll have this shut in time for a hot dinner."
Frank looks at the swirling vortex.
"Well, we could always try smashing it, I suppose."
Alethea starts to reply but turns away, face reddening in embarrassment.
The party wracks their brain-boxes against the conundrum of the portal to colder climes, but unfortunately none of them have had much experience with them. They're unsure what lies on the other end, how it was placed here, nor how to even begin to close it. Perhaps with a good library they could track down further clues.
Before you're able to investigate further a sudden blast of wind blasts from the swirling vortex in the ring of icicles, gusting outward in a stinging spray of snow and ice. A gaunt man with curling ram's horns and wearing coal-black armor lurches through the portal astride a black warhorse, surrounded by tendrils of cold, dark mist. The man slumps in the saddle, shard of blue ice jutting from his back. As rider and mount come to a halt in the snow, the horse suddenly dissipates into black smoke, and the horseman falls to the ground.
The man regards you and the destruction you have wrought on the guardians of the portal, and with a wave his fearful facade falls. What remains is a feeble looking old man, exhausted, pale from blood lose, and close to death. He beckons you closer, "I am known as Black Midnight. I am Baba Yaga's Black Rider, harbinger of the Witch Queen's return. Every one hundred years she returns to Irrisen to place a new daughter on the throne. But Queen Elvanna has somehow thwarted her mother, she has not returned and the Queen has slain everyone loyal to her mother. I am the last."
The man coughs and spits blood on the white snow, "I beseech you stop Queen Elvanna. It is the only way to prevent Golarion from being thrust into an eternal winter."
If the man is lying Dawrbrun cannot tell.
Black Midnight? Baba Yaga's Black Rider? Harbinger of the Witch Queen's return? Queen Elvanna?
The gnome squints through the blistery wind and snow.
Irrisen
Hunter looks to Ant with a shrug.
Anticipation chitters in eagerness.
...stop Queen Elvanna. It is the only way to prevent Golarion from being thrust into an eternal winter?
Barnaby looks about to the others.
It seems we found out why this winter has come.
He just stares at the portal.
I suppose that will lead us to Irrisen? And what the pray tale would we be able to do there?
Frank raises an eyebrow at Alethea's bashful moment.
"Would smashing this portal help thwart her plans?" Frank asks Black Midnight, hopeful.
I suppose that will lead us to Irrisen? And what the pray tale would we be able to do there?
The aged and mortally wounded man nods at Barnaby, "You must find Baba Yaga. Only Baba Yaga can defeat Elvanna. Only the Queen of Witches can undo what her daughter has done."
He draws a ragged breath before continuing, "You must use her Dancing Hut to find her. The hut is a powerful artifact that can cross great distances, even travel between worlds. If you can control the hut, it can take you to Baba Yaga. The hut is on display in Irrisen's Capital, Whitethrone, you must go through the portal to Irrisen and find the Dancing Hut."
Frank raises an eyebrow at Alethea's bashful moment.
"Would smashing this portal help thwart her plans?" Frank asks Black Midnight, hopeful.
"This portal is one of many and its source is in the Pale Tower, on the other side. Through them, Elvanna will spread a new ice age accross your world, consuming it for all eternity. Closing this portal will slow Elvanna's plans but Golarion would still be doomed."
Alethea, tired as she is, whirls in alarm as the rider comes crashing into their world, relaxing only when he shows his true, weakened form. She looks on in disbelief as he and the others try to carry on a conversation with him, as if he wasn't bleeding out into the snow.
Kneeling beside him, she examines his wounds and curses herself for her ignorance of medicine.
Barnaby nods to the aged and mortally wounded man, as he spills forth crucial information to the group.
Find Baba Yaga. Defeat Elvanna. Dancing Hut is powerful artifact. Go through this Portal to Irrisen's Capital, Whitethrone to the Pale Tower.
Ant-icipation is seen wearing a court clerk's outfit, diligently and furiously scribing notes down on a tablet.
The Hunter stops.
Should we be expected?
Barnaby then looks to Anticipation, who gives a thumbs up.
Hekla heaves forward as well. The idea of a grand adventure certainly excites her, and she feels drawn to the portal. It's possibly a more powerful urge than anything she's ever felt before. Alarm bells in the back of her head warn her about something her Father told her once, very long ago, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it.
She slides to her knees in the snow beside the man and Alethea.
"What happened? How can we help you? You can tell us about the quest once we get you fixed up."
She tries to heal his wounds with magic.
While Hekla attempts to heal the old weird guy from a strange magical portal that causes spontaneous winter, the ever-pragmatic gnome begins counting the loot.
Perhaps, we stop buy the store first before we jump through into wintery maddness?
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"What happened? How can we help you? You can tell us about the quest once we get you fixed up."
She tries to heal his wounds with magic.
"Elvanna hunted down those of use who would herald Baba Yaga's return and slew my associates. I am the last of the Three Riders and a threat to Elvanna's plans. Find the Hut, it has many keys, objects attuned to it, that can take it almost anywhere. I managed to secure two of these keys, but Elvanna stole their power to prevent anyone from using the hut to find her mother. Once they are reactivated, placing the keys in the Hut's cauldron will retrace Baba Yaga's path."
Despite Hekla's attempt to heal the Black Rider, it has no apparent effect.
He produces lock of coarse white hair and a plague doctor's mask, "I'm no longer capable of carrying out the mission, I must pass the responsibility on to you."
I will reactivate the keys." With a look of grim determination on his face the man draws a knife, slitting his own throat and bathes the keys in his own flowing blood. As he expires his clothes melt away like ice in a fire only leaving a tired corpse. The mantle of the Black Rider leaves the old man and wraps around you, empowering you but also leaving you with a heavy weight.
Barnaby and Ant look at the puddle of mud, look at each other and sigh.
I feel like only the sound of a (taco) bell would allow for any off-script shenanigans.
Alethea falls backwards into the snow, overwhelmed by not just the sudden surge of power from the mantle, but by the Rider's shocking end. She pulls herself to her feet, wiping blood from her cheek.
"Why did he...we could have..." she says, trailing off.
Hekla recoils as well and stares at the corpse in surprise for a moment before reaching out to steady Alethea.
"These must be more important than his own life..." She reaches down to pull the lock of hair and the plague mask out of the pool of blood. If she was shocked by his quick act of self-sacrifice, she didn't seem to be that affected by the blood.
Over the next few minutes, she studies the items carefully.
After a while, she realizes that she might have blood splashed on her, being so close. She gets out her mirror to take a look at herself. She blinks in disbelief when she sees the aged face of Black Midnight looking back at her, but it's gone as soon as she opens her eyes again and her own blood-splashed face looks back at her.
"That's odd. He was looking at me in my mirror. Perhaps some piece of him is still clinging to us?"
"Maybe. I feel...odd," Alethea replies, climbing to her feet. "We should bury him."
While the others catalogued their reaped rewards, Lyudmilla spent her time collecting herself before waddling back down the path to retrieve her bison and cookery as the damage had seemingly disipated. An after-battle snack was just the thing to raise everyone's spirits!
Upon her return, she looks up from quilling notes in her recipe book about the inedible nature of trolls, just in time to witness the horsemen in black collapse out of the wintery portal.
Trundling forward, she hears the last haggard words of the dying rider, whispered names hanging above her like a precarious blade from above. Queen Elvanna. Baba Yaga. Panic takes hold, colder than the portal billowing chill as their dire circumstances begin to fully dawn on her.
"Ve are very much in over our heads..."
"I'm used to it, m'Lady," Dawrbrün replies to Lyudmilla, giving her a smile and a wink. "It seems a grand adventure awaits us through that portal. Tavern tales about goblins and orcs will pale in comparison to a battle to dethrone the Ice Queen or Irrisen! Come friends, let us earn our spurs, or die gloriously in the attempt!"
"Grand adventure? Maybe. That? That was almost as- as bad as- B..."
Frank explains.
He notices Broulnindre look away.
Frank's expression darkens.
"Well, I don't really want to help Baba Yaga, but- oof- wow that felt weird. Er- seems like we don't have much choice." He says before nodding at his eidolon. She trudges over to fetch his donkey in silence.
"You heard him," Alethea says, looking from the Rider to the swirling portal."What's happening here will happen all over the world if we don't." She turns back to the others, her swagger starting to reassert itself. "My whole life, I've been waiting for something like this. So, come on. Let's go save the world!"